Last week we’d been up to the North East for a few days. I had a work commitment up there so we took the opportunity to stop over a couple of nights and visit some family. On the way back home we decided to break the journey and stopped off at Knaersborough, somewhere I’d never been before.
It’s an old town, going back to Norman times, if not before, with the remnants of a Norman fortress. Although in the middle of Yorkshire it used to be part of the Duchy of Lancaster. It’s very close to Harrogate (which I have visited several times for work and pleasure) and was the main centre in the locality until mineral waters were discovered in the latter leading to it’s development of a spa resort and subsequently outgrowing it’s older neighbour in size and importance.
We only had a few hours to spare – especially with the short hours of daylight during this time of the year, but that was enough to get a flavour of the small town. We parked up in a car park on the edge of the town centre and then made our way down to the market square. It was market day, so we had a mooch around the stalls before looking for a suitable hostelry to grab a bite to eat. The small town isn’t lacking in cafes and the likes, and we decided on the Six Poor Folk a cafe bar located in a former hospital for paupers, dating back to 1480. It was quite small and could only “cater” for a small number of patients, hence its name.
It was very cosy and nicely decorated inside (with appropriate spacing and other Covid precautions)
and was even frequented by the Town Crier
We bought ourelves a tasty light lunch (I had the steak sandwich) and J treated herself to a glass of mulled wine
Well fed, we wandered over towards the ruins of the Norman castle, taking in the view over the River Nidd far below.
There were dark clouds in the sky, but some sunshine kept breaking through lighting up the keep.
The castle was held by Royalists during the Civil War but was captured by Parliamentarian troops. As with other Royalist strongholds, it was subsequently dismantled leaving the ruins we see today.
Inside the grounds there’s an impressive Tudaor building which today houses a small museum
with displays, including furniture from when it was used as a courtroom during Tudor times, and exhibits about the castle, the town and notable former residents.
After visiting the interesting little museum (entry fee only £2) we had a mooch around the small town centre. The buildings looked to be largely Georgian. I noticed that quite a few of them had tromp d’oiel paintings on their exterior.
Knaresborough used to a centre of the linen industry and there’s a number of old textile mills that have been repurposed, like the one below which is an art gallery and framing shop
The most famous person associated with Knaersborough is Ursula Sontheil, better known as Mother Shipton. Born in 1488, during the reign of Henry VII, she found renown as a prophetess, allegedly foretelling the future of several monarchs, the Great Fire of London in 1666, and the defeat of the Spanish Armada. the cave where she is supposed to have been born is a popular tourist attraction, which include a petrifying well which “turns everyday objects into stone” by the precipitation of minerals onto their surface when submerged. There’s a statue of the prophetess in the Market Square
close to a second celebrating another former resident, Jack Metcalf, better known as Blind Jack, who lost his eyesight due to smallpox at the age of six. Despite this he found fame as a musician, tourist guide, soldier (who was present at the Battle of Culloden) and road engineer.
After purchasing a couple of slices of Yorkshire curd from a local baker’s to take home with us, we headed back to the car and then set off on the journey home. It was only 4 o’cock but was already starting to go dark.
We enjoyed our brief stop in the town and may find ourselves back there again to explore further in the furture.
Monday morning during our holiday in Whitby was rather gloomy. But after breakfast, while everyone else was taking it easy in the cottage, I decided to go out for a wander over to the east side of the harbour.
After crossing the bridge I turned down Church Street and where I found myself irresistibly drawn into the rather good independent bookshop, The Whitby Bookshop. After a good browse I carried on down Church Street before turning down Henrietta Street which leads to the harbour piers. I passed the smokehouse, but decided against purchasing any kippers. I’m very fond of the smoked herring but didn’t want to stink out the cottage!
I reached the harbour and walked onto the walls
Taking care to avoid being blown off the wall by the strong wind, I snapped a few photos of the town under the moody sky.
I set off back towards the cottage,
Picking up a few supplies on the way.
After dinner, it had brightened up so leaving our daughter behind to catch up on some work for her course, the rest of us decided to walk over to the east side of the town to have a mooch in the shops and take a few photos under a sunnier sky
We’re just back from an enjoyable family holiday in the historic seaside town of Whitby. This was our second visit having had a holiday there in July 2017.
The town developed following the establishment of an Anglo Saxon monastery high up on the East Cliff in 656 by Oswy, the Christian king of Northumbria. It’s in a narrow valley at the mouth of the River Esk, flanked by tall cliffs. The original settlement was at the bottom of the cliffs on the east side of the river, eventually spreading over to the west bank. It’s location means that it’s a maze of steep, narrow streets and ginnels – not the easiest of places to drive around!
Until relatively recently it was very much an industrial town with alum quarries on nearby cliffs and shipbuilding was a major industry – it’s hard to believe that in the 18th century it was the third largest shipbuilding port in England. Not surprisingly it was a fishing port and in the mid 18th century it also became a centre for whaling. Whitby developed as a spa town in Georgian times and tourism really took off in the mid 19th Century with the arrival of the railway, leading to the development on top of the West Cliff.
Bram Stoker stayed in Whitby and it inspired him to write his novel, Dracula, which started with the Dementer, the ship carrying Dracula running aground, its crew missing, its dead skipper lashed to the wheel was wrecked on Tate Hill Sands, below the East Cliff (his inspiration for this was the beaching of a Russian ship, the Dmitry, on the sands in 1885). One of the novel’s characters, and Dracula’s victim, Lucy Westenra, was attacked by the Count in St Mary’s Churchyard, the Parish Church that stands in the shadow of the Abbey.
We had a relatively easy week, spending our time wandering around the streets, cliffs and beaches with only one trip out to Scarborough. We didn’t spot any vampires, fortunately!
Here’s a few snaps that I took around the town during our stay, starting with a few views of the East Cliff from the harbour and West Cliff
There’s a fine beach to the west of the town stretching a couple of miles to the small hamlet of Sandsend
It can a long, tedious drive back home from the North east. I didn’t fancy the chaos of the M62 after a bad, traffic jammed journey the previous Friday, so we decided we’d drive back across the Pennines on the A59 via Harrogate and Skipton. Not a fast route but likely to be more pleasant than the alternative. We also decided to break the journey so stopped at Ripon, somewhere we’ve never visited before. It’s quite a small town, and the major attraction, besides nearby Fountains Abbey, is the Cathedral.
There’s been a church on the site since the 7th Century, originally a wooden structure, which was replaced by a stone building in 672, one of the earliest stone buildings erected in the Anglo-Saxon Kingdom of Northumbria. It’s been twice destroyed (first by the Vikings and then by the Normans) and rebuilt. It’s been modified many times over the years, resulting in the building we see today. Like many of the old Cathedrals it incorporates several different styles of architecture, mainly Gothic but with some traces of Romanesque style. There’s even a remnant of the first stone church – the crypt.
The west front is a very impressive example of the early English Gothic style, with it’s lancet windows
Entry was free although you are supposed to buy a pass, costing £3, to take photos. I stumped up but there were plenty of people snapping away who clearly hadn’t.
The first thing we noticed on entering the Cathedral was the installation suspended high up in the ceiling
The Cathedral’s website tells us
Since May, 10,000 origami angels have been made by 100 volunteers and 300 school pupils, who have helped to create an inspiring host of angels in the nave of Ripon Cathedral. Each angel represents a dedication made during the COVID-19 pandemic to key workers and loved ones. Our volunteers range from 3 – 90 years old and are located across the region.
The Nave was in a later Perpendicular Gothic style
This is the old 15th Century stone font
I liked the impressive Arts and Crafts style pulpit, made by Henry Wilson in 1913 a.
At the end of the nave, we descended down these narrow stone steps into the crypt
This is the only remaining part of the original stone building and would hold the “holy relics” which are so important in the Catholic Church. It’s a tiny space and was only reopened recently, entry having been stopped during the height of the Covid crisis.
The transept is one of the oldest parts of the main building, with elements of both Gothic and, with the rounded windows, the earlier Romanesque or Norman style.
The highly decorative roode screen leads to the Quire (or Choir – take your pick as to the spelling!). The stone screen is medieval, but the stautes of Kings, bishops and saints are Victorian
There’s a massive stained glass Great East Window – an example of Decorated Gothic – at the end of the Quire, behind the high altar. The glass is Victorian – the original glass was destroyed by Puritans during the Civil War.
Looking back down the Quire (the light made it difficult to get a decent photo
The same workers also carved the misericords at Beverley Minster and Manchester Cathedral.
The massive spaces of the Nave and Quire in cathedrals can be overwhelming and I often find the smaller, more initmate, side chapels the most interesting. The Chapel of the Holy Spirit is on the south side of the quire and has a modern look. The striking screen, meant to resemble lightning bolts, screen was designed by Leslie Durbin, a jeweller who designed the rear of the first pound coins and the Stalingrad Sword that was presented to Stalin by Churchill at the end of the Second World War.
St peter’s Chapel, on the other side of the Quire, has a more traditional look
The altar is made of a reused font, possibly dating back to the medieval period. The painting behind the altar is a reproduction of a work by Reubens.
The Chapel of Justice and Peace is located at the west end of the church, to thee north of the entrance
Behind the altar are words of the poet Wilfred Owen, who spent his last birthday here in 1918, words that speak of tragedy and loss through war.
It’s been a while since I’ve indulged my interst in art and architecture, so it was good to have the opportunity to visit this excellent example of a grand Gothic church. We spent a good hour looking round but had to hit the road. I’ll have to find time to take another look sometime, perhaps combined with a visit to Fountain’s Abbey. I’ve not been there for a while. And I do have coneections with Ripon – my family history research suggests I have a family connection – but I don’t shout that out, it’s hard to accept I might have some Yorkshire genes 😬
For my second walk during the hot and sunny Bank Holiday weekend, not wanting to endure the inevitably busy traffic, I decided to take the train over to Littleborough. I’d worked out a route that would take me over to Todmorden, taking in a stretch of the Pennine Way. It was a long walk but doable. As it happens I ended up extending it a little.
Arriving at the station, a short walk along the road I was on a minor road that crossed the canal and then became a track that was soon out into the fields. A path then took me through some woods, past a farm and then past the golf course with views of the hills opening up.
The low cloud that was hanging over Wigan and Manchester had cleared by the time I reached Littleborough. It was sunny and becoming hot and there was barely a breeze. The wind turbines on the hills were completely still.
The line of pylons carrying power cables that stretch out over the moors brought to mind a poem by Stephen Spender that I’d studied for my O Level in English Literature. Here’s an extract
The secret of these hills was stone, and cottages Of that stone made, And crumbling roads That turned on sudden hidden villages
Now over these small hills, they have built the concrete That trails black wire Pylons, those pillars Bare like nude giant girls that have no secret.
by Stephen Spender (extract)
Can’t say I’ve seen many nude girls that look quite like that, mind!
I guess that the modern day equivalent are the Wind Turbines of which I could see plenty on the nearby hills during my walk.
I’d originally planned to climb up the “Roman road”, that would let me join the Pennine Way to the north of Blackstone Edge. As it happens as I reached the path that would lead me to the start of the ascent, looking up to Blackstone Edge I decided to divert and climb the edge, taking the path up to the south of the summit, adding 2 or 3 miles to my planned route.
Looking down to Hollingworth Lake as I climbed
A couple of curious locals ahead
The top of Blackstone Edge ahead
It didn’t take too long to reach the top of the hill with it’s jumble of millstone grit bolders
I stopped by the trig point for a short break and a bite to eat. Just like on Friday, long range visibility wasn’t so great but the views over the moors were still OK.
I was now on the Pennine way so followed the path heading northwards. Looking back to the Edge.
I reached the Aiggin stone
The Pennine Way then descended down the “Roman road”
before turning north by the drain – a waterway taking water from one of the reservoirs that feed the Rochdale canal
It wasn’t too long before I reached the White Horse pub on the A58 which runs over the Pennines from Littleborough to Halifax.
Crossing over there’s a short walk stretch of road before the Pennine way continues along a gravel path that’s used a a service road for a string of reservoirs.
This path extends for a few miles and is pretty flat. It’s reputedly the easiest stretch of the Pennine Way. The lack of inclines means it’s also one of the least interesting stretches, but on a fine day there were good views over the moors and the water in the reservoirs was a lovely bright blue.
About a mile along the track I reached this little bridge, which I crossed and then walked along to an outcrop of millstone grit in a former quarry
Inscribed on the rock is a poem
This one of the Stanza Stones – poems by Simon Armitage (the new Poet Laureate) inscribed on rocks on the moors between Marsden (his home town) and Ilkley, all about an aspect of the water which frequently falls on these moors. This is the Rain Stone
Unusually (!) it wasn’t raining today, but it had been a few days before and the moors off the path were wet and boggy.
Rejoining the path I carried on heading north passing a string of small reservoirs.
After passing the last of the reservoirs, the path continued over the boggy moor. Fortunately flagstones have been laid down over the boggiest section other it would have meant walking through a quagmire. There’s a reason why Simon Armitage located his Stanza Stones up here!
Soon, Stoodley Pike came into view
It didn’t look so far off, but sometimes your eyes can deceive you!
Carrying on, Todmorden and the nearby villages came into view down in the valley
and looking in the opposite direction towards Cragg Vale, home of the Coiners
My plan was to descend down the Calderdale Way and follow it to Todmorden where I’d catch the train back to Wigan. Looking north along the Pennine Way, Stoodley Pike didn’t look so far off and I was tempted to continue onwards.
But I’d extended my walk by a few miles already by tackling Blackstone Edge so I decided to stick to my original intention.
The path was an old packhorse trail and had been paved, making the walking relatively easy.
I was greeted by a couple of sheep as I entered the small village of Mankinholes
It’s small village of old traditional Pennine houses, an ancient settlement, going back to the 13th century, and some of the houses were built in the 17 th century. They would probably have been originally occupied by textile workers, weavers and spinners, who worked from home, so the houses have the typical rows of mullioned windows that allowed maximum light into the first floor work rooms.
I reckon that later on, after the Industrial Revolution had killed off the domestic textile industry, the occupants probably went to work in the mill in nearby Lumbutts – there’s an old path across the fields between the two villages and that was what I followed.
Lumbutts isn’t as old, coming into existence along with the mill in the late 18th and early 19th centuries.
Reaching Lumbutts I passed the local pub which, on a Bank Holiday afternoon, was busy with customers enjoying a meal and a pint.
Time was getting on so I didn’t stop but carried on to have a look at the village chapel
It’s rather a large chapel for a small village but probably served the surrounding area. It was only constructed in 1911, replacing an earlier building. The ground floor was used for the Sunday School with the main chapel above it.
I rejoined the Calderdale way which carried on along the road and down the hill towards the old mill. The only thing left is the unusual old tower.
The mill was water powered and the tower contained three water wheels, one on top of the other, powered from lodges on the hills above.
I carried on along the road for a while passing the rows of terraced workers’ houses
A short while further on the Calderdale Way turned off the road to start crossing some fields. Looking across to Stoodley Pike
I passed a number of old, traditional houses which are now expensive, desirable residences
Soon I could see Todmordem, but it was still a way off
I carried on along the Calderdale way through fields and along a country lane, eventually arriving at the small former textile town down in the bottom of the narrow valley.
Todmorden used to split by the border between Lancashire and Yorkshire and the neo-Classical Town Hall actually straddles the border.
Since Local Government reorganisation it’s been entirely in West Yorkshire, but remnants of the old loyalties remain. My walk had taken me from Littleborough in Lancashire (well, Greater Manchester these days) and across the border into West Yorkshire. But it would be difficult to tell the difference as the landscape and architecture across the South Pennines is essentially the same.
I’d run out of water a couple of miles before reaching the town (should have stopped at that pub!) so needed to get some cold liquid. It was nearly 5 o’clock and everything seemed shut but I managed to find an off licence were I was able to buy a couple of bottles of diet coke from the fridge for a couple of quid. The cold liquid and caffeine were more than welcome and I quickly downed the contents of one of the bottles saving the second for the journey home.
I didn’t have too much time to look round before the next train was due so I made my way to the station. It was running 10 minutes late and I might have otherwise missed it (although they run every half hour). Just over an hour later I was back in Wigan.
Another grand walk on what was probably going to be the last sunny day for a while. I also feel that September is the beginning of Autumn, so this was my last walk during this year’s summer. But Autumn can be a good time for walks too – so fingers crossed!
Almost a couple of weeks ago, on a Sunday, I decided I’d drive over to the Yorkshire Dales and walk up Ingleborough. I’d been up there before, a couple of years ago, from Ingleton, but this time I wanted to try another popular route, up from Clapham (no, not the district of London, but a small village in Yorkshire).
Clapham is an attractive linear village which lies along both sides of Clapham Beck. Although there’s been a settlement here right back to at least Anglo Saxon times, the village we see today is largely the work of the Farrars, a local farming family who became Lords of the Manor in the 18th Century after accumulating wealth as London Lawyers. They remodelled the village, which became an ‘estate village’ where almost all the residents were tenants, many of whom worked on the estate. They built Ingleborough Hall and created the Lake and gardens on their estate.
I set out from the village and took the path up through the Estate Gardens alongside the lake – after paying the £1 toll.
Lots of wild garlic in bloom
The path took me past Ingleborough Cave, but I didn’t stop to have a look (and pay another fee).
The path started to climb and I was soon in Trow Gill, a narrow limestone gorge.
It’s likely that at one time this was an underground passage carved out through the limestone, like the many caves in the area. The gorge was created when the roof of the cave collapsed.
Carrying on I turned on to open moorland. I’d noticed quite a few other people walking up through the Estate and the Gill and talking to a few of them discovered that they were only going as far as Gaping Gill, a a 98-metre (322 ft) deep pothole just below Ingleborough, which has one of the largest known underground chambers in Britain. The Bradford caving club “opens” Gaping Gill to the public for a couple of weeks in May, lowering people down on a bosun’s chair. This was the start of the two weeks.
As I got closer I couldn’t help but notice the “tent city” which had been errected close to the entrance to the system. I diverted slightly off the path to take a look.
But I hadn’t planned to get lowered down a deep hole in the ground – I much prefer the open skies – so carried on towards Ingleborough which was covered with cloud.
I carried on, climbing up the path towards the subsidiary summit of Little Ingleborough, walking into the low cloud.
The path flattened off for a short distance but the climb up to the summit of Littleborough itself.
It was still covered with cloud and was quite cold and windy on top. I made my way to the summit cairn and the stone shelter where I stopped for a coffee from my flask and a bite to eat. There were quite a few others arriving on the summit from different directions, many of them attempting the “Three Peaks Challenge“.
I had hoped the cloud would clear as the last time I came up here we’d started out at Ingleton on a warm day under a sunny blue sky, but by the time we reached the summit it was cold, windy and covered with cloud. Just the same as on this occasion.
I walked across the summit to start my descent on the path that leads towards Horton in Ribblesdale. The cloud was swirling in the wind and through a gap that appeared I glimpsed the rather magnificent Ribblehead Viaduct. But the cloud soon swirled back in.
I descended down the steep path and soon reached flatter moorland.
Carrying on walking there were good views towards Penyghent, the smaller of the Three Peaks.
After a short while, looking back I could see that the cloud had cleared. If only I’d set out a couple of hours later I’d have had a view. That seems to be the story of my life at the moment (see my post about my trip up Great Gable). I could have turned around and climbed back up to the summit, but thought it best to carry on.
After a few miles, after a ruined shooting hut, at Nick Pot , I turned off on the path that headed south, which would take me back to Clapham. Initially walking over moorland, I soon came to an area of Limestone pavement and “shake holes“.
I carried on across the moorland towards Clapham, and looking across the moors there were good views towards the cloudless summit of Ingleborough.
The path continued above the beck, on the opposite side to my route up through the Estate and Trow Gill. No toll payable on this side!
The path descended steeply down hill and then passed under two tunnels, which had been built by the Farrers to prevent travellers along what was a major route wouldn’t have to cross the Ingleborough Hall Estate.
I was soon back in the village
and stopped for a brew and fruit cake with a slice of Wensleydale cheese in the cafe located in a very old building.. The cup was even in Wigan Warrieors colours!
After a short wander round the village, I went back to the car and headed back towards home.
It had been an enjoyable walk but I was a little disappointed that, yet again, when I was on top of the hill it was covered with cloud and I missed out on the view over the Dales.
The next Wednesday promised to be a sunny day and chance had it I was able to finish work early. I wanted to make the most of the sunshine and get out for a walk and had my boots in the car. It was a little late to drive up to the Lakes but as I was only about an hour’s drive away I decided to chance a climb up Ingleborough.
I parked up in Ingleton and set off in bright sunshine up the path towards Ingleborough. It took me a couple of hours to reach the summit.
I was lucky this time – the cloud kept away, although it was windy and quite chilly. bUt I’d brought my soft shell and that kept me nice and snug. I stopped at the shelter for a while, chatting with a couple of retired walkers from Leyland and a Yorkshireman who was part of a group tackling the Three Peaks.
I took the opportunity to soak in the view which extended over to Morecambe Bay and the Lakeland Fells,
Pendle Hill and the Bowland Fells in the west and over the Dales to the east. And, at the third attempt, I got a great view over towards the Ribblehaead Viaduct standing below Whernside, the highest of the Three Peaks.
Satisfied that I’d eventually managed to climb the hill when it wasn’t covered in cloud, I made my way back down to the village, passing some curious locals on the way.
Ingleborough is a grand mountain. A good climb in pretty countryside that’s quite different to that of the Lake District, which is not so far away. It’s certainly worth the effort to climb to the top even when the summit is covered with cloud. But I was glad I’d found the time to get up there when it wasn’t!
I came across this gentlemen at his stall on Hebden Bridge market when I was there a few weeks ago. He made up cigar box guitars and after spotting them I had to have a closer look.
He greeted me by asking me “have you got some blues in you?” Well I have – a little anyway! He spotted my Lancashire accent but despite this (!) I got chatting with him about how he made his hand built guitars and I had a go at playing one – they’re meant for playing slide or “bottleneck” style and it’s not something I’d really attempted before.
He told me that he had Parkinson’s disease (he had the characteristic hand tremor) but still persevered in building the instruments. I thought they were quite reasonably priced (probably worth more) and would have been tempted to buy one if I wasn’t just about to set out for a walk on the moors.
After looking around Heptonstall and grabbing a bite to eat I set off on my walk up to Stoodley Pike, a 1,300-foot (400 m) hill topped with a monument, which lies on the Pennine way in the South Pennines close to Todmorden and Hebden Bridge. I’d decided to follow a route published by the AA, although I did vary a little from it.
Setting out from Hebden Bridge, passing the train station, I was soon climbing up a quiet country lane.
As I climbed up through the woods I could look down on Hebden Bridge at the bottom of the narrow Calderdale valley
Coming out of the woods by a telecoms mast,
the route continued up hill through the open fields
with the sun beating down with no cloud cover and now out of the shade for most of the route I was glad I’d decided to wear my wide rimmed Aussie hat !
Looking back I could see Heptonstall village on the other side of the valley
and looking ahead my objective came into view, silhouetted by the bright sky
After a while I turned off the path through the fields to continue on along some quiet country lanes
passing a number of traditional buildings, some working farms but many had been converted into (no doubt expensive) homes
There weren’t many other people about on this stretch of the walk and no noise other than the bleating of sheep and the call of curlews and other birds.
Getting closer to the Pike now
which was quite busy with other walkers, most of whom seemed to have come up from Todmorden. (I angle my photos to avoid the “crowds”)
Good views from the top
The 121 foot (37 m) high Monument on the top of the hill commemorates the Napoleonic wars. It’s actually the second structure, replacing the original tower, completed in 1815 and paid for by public subscription, which collapsed in 1854 after a lightning strike.
After a short stop to take in the views and refuel, I decided to continue along the ridge for another mile. The peat is quite eroded. It’s a busy path, popular with people coming up from Todmorden but also part of the Pennine Way
Having had quite a long dry spell I didn’t have to wade through a muddy morass.
I thought about descending the hill taking the path down towards Todmorden and then following the bridleway that traverses the foot of the hill, but it was sunny, with hardly a breath of wind and very pleasant on the top of the hill, so I turned round and retraced my steps back towards the monument
I retraced my steps back down the hill,
turning off to follow the Pennine Bridleway in the direction of Hebden Bridge
after a while turning off the bridleway to take a path through some pleasant woodland towards the town
before hitting a cobbled track
and being watched by some curious locals
It was the day after Good Friday!
I was getting close to Hebden Bridge now
After descending the steep hill I was back on the Rochdale canal
I picked up some cold drinks from the Co-op, then carried on along the towpath back towards the station
I only had short wait before my train arrived that would take me back to Wigan. 90 minutes later, I was back home.
Another good day out. The train is making this area very accessible without a car, avoiding an awkward drive across the busy M62 and down narrow roads, and also avoiding the bother having to find somewhere to park. I think I’m going to be spending more time exploring the area in the near future.
On Easter Saturday I decided to take advantage of the good weather and get out for another walk. I’d enjoyed my walk over Blackstone Edge the previous Saturday so thought I’d take the train back over to the South Pennines, this time to Hebden Bridge for a walk over to Stoodley Pike. I arrived in the former mill town in the bottom of the narrow Calder Valley, which has now become rather trendy and “Bohemian”. I didn’t stop long, I’d been a couple of times before, but decided to gead up to the small community of Heptonstall, just up the hill from Hebden Bridge. And what a hill it is!
I took the VERY steep cobbled lane up from the centre of Hebden Bridge
and then up a steep road that took me into the village.
There’s been a settlement here as far back as at least 1253 and it was even the site of a battle during the Civil War. Historically, it was a centre for hand-loom weaving, The work was done in the worker’s own homes, usually on the top floor and the old cottages and houses have long rows of stone mullioned windows on the first-floor which were meant to allow in plenty of light for the weavers.
High up on the hill it was away from the dark and damp valley floor. However, during the early Industrial Revolution, with the advent of water power, the new factories were built by the source of their power, the river, so Heptonstall went into decline. As a consequence, it’s almost as if it’s been frozen in time. I guess that for many years the buildings would have fallen into disrepair, but with the resurgence of Hebden Bridge, Heptonstall has also become a desirable location and the old houses and other buildings have been renovated.
The former Cloth Hall, which is now a private house,was built between 1545-58. Finished cloth produced in the town and nearby area used to be traded here.
The Octagonal Methodist Chapel was built in 1764 and the design and construction of were overseen by John Wesley, who frequently preached here. It’s one of the oldest Methodist churches in continuous use today.
No visit to Heptonstall would be complete without a visit to the churchyard. There’s actually two churches there, one of them a ruined shell. The original church, dedicated to St Thomas a Becket, was founded c.1260, but was damaged by a gale in 1847. The new church which replaced it, dedicated to St Thomas the Apostle, was built just across the churchyard.
A large proportion of visitors come up the hill to see the grave of Sylvia Plath who is buried in the new graveyard, just across a narrow lane from the church.
There’s a lot of old graves in the old churchyard
The most notable “resident” is David Hartley, the KIng of the Crag Vale Coiners, who was executed in York on 28 April 1770 This is his gravestone
Some consider the coiners to be local heroes, Calderdale “Robin Hoods”. Others consider them as a bunch of vicious rogues. In either case, they are the subject of a rather excellent prize winning novel, The Gallows Pole by Ben Myers, who lives in the area
Just by the graveyard there’s a rather excellent little museum, housed in the old grammar school building that was constructed in 1642
There are exhibits about the history of the village, its industry, the Civil War battle and, of course, the coiners.
Partway back down, the view over Hebden Bridge
and then down the steep, cobbled lane
back to Hebden Bridge where I took a break by the old packhorse bridge for a bite to eat before setting off on my walk up Stoodley Pike
We’d been wanting to walk along the cliffs from Robin Hood’s Bay back to Whitby during our recent holiday. Unfortunately the weather hadn’t been particularly promising. But on the Friday the forecast was for sunshine until the evening, so we laced up our boots and took the bus the few miles to Robin Hood’s Bay and set out along the coastal path. It was easy walking at first but we soon had to negociate a series of “ups and downs” along the cliffs.
Looking back shortly after setting out.
A short distance along the route we came across this “rocket post”. Devices similar to this were used by the coastguard to practice rescuing shipwrecked sailors. Rockets were used to fire ropes across to stranded ships.
It was a beautiful day, if a little windy. There were great views of the cliffs ahead and the sea was a beautiful shade of blue.
“Scars” could be seen under the water. It was high tide but these rocky selves that make this stretch of coastline potentially treacherous for shipping would soon be revealed as the tide receded.
Looking out to sea.
Moving along the coast
This must be the shortest lighthouse I’ve seen.
A cliff face of Kittiwakes
A short distance after the lighthouse we passed this disused foghorn station. I wouldn’t have liked to be walking past when this was blasting out.
Carrying on the cliffs
Getting closer to Whitby. We passed the bay where we’d been foddiling earlier that week.
The Abbey came into view
Looking down to the ship wreck we’d walked past during the fossiling trip
Whitby harbour came into view.
Getting closer to the Abbey
We finished the walk with tea and cake in the YHA café next to the Abbey.