Category Archives: Art and architecture.

A RAMBLE AROUND CLITHEROE.

P1060609 Another from a leaflet in the series of Walks with Taste in Ribble Valley, this time setting off from the centre of Clitheroe. I’m becoming lazy with route planning and relying on someone else’s choice, Ribble Valley BC this time. It promised “starting from Holmes Mill, wandering through the grounds of Clitheroe’s Norman Castle to the River Ribble for an easy riverside ramble”

I park in a side street in Clitheroe near Holmes Mill which has its own small pay and display carpark. The place is just opening up and I will sample its delights later in the morning.

My first objective is Clitheroe Castle and I navigate a series of steep and sinuous paths to reach its ramparts. Arriving at a terrace there is an ornate stone turret, strangely from the Houses of Parliament, presented to the borough by its MP (Sir William Brass) in 1937, in commemoration of the coronation of King George VI. Also known as the Pinnacle, it dates back to the mid-1800s when there was rebuilding work at the Palace of Westminster after a fire. P1060604 P1060594 P1060600

On the next tier is the oft photographed war memorial, a sculpture of a soldier standing in a mourning pose with head bowed. The main inscription reads “Erected by the inhabitants of Clitheroe in grateful remembrance of their fellow townsmen who gave their lives in defence of their king and country in the Great War 1914 – 1918”. The sculptor was Louis Frederick Roslyn, (incidentally you will see the same figure at a memorial in Slaidburn) P1060608

On its rocky limestone outcrop the remains of the castle keep rise above me , up yet more steps. Built in 1186 by Robert de Lacy, the Norman keep, reputed to be the second smallest in England, was in an important strategic location. After the death of Henry de Lacy in 1311, the castle passed to the Earldom of Lancaster, and then became the property of the Duchy of Lancaster. The castle was used during the Wars of the Roses, but was soon in a state of disrepair and it was damaged further by Parliamentary forces during the English Civil War. The castle was privately owned until 1920 when it was sold to the local council to establish a memorial to the First World War.

The medieval buildings associated with the castle have all disappeared. In the eighteenth-century Castle House in the castle grounds is a museum which of course is not open a this time of day. P1060605

I climb to the top for views over the Ribble Valley, into Yorkshire, the cement works and the nearby Pendle Hill. All a little hazy. I do spot the white Waddow Hall, at the base of the Grindleton hills, I’ll soon be walking close by it. But first I have to find my way down.

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Leaving the grounds I notice one of the Tercets installed at intervals on The Lancashire Witches Walk enjoyed with Sir Hugh back in 2016. P1060626

I made a special effort to come and see Dandy, the Black Dog last week and here I am again walking past him near Booths Supermarket. The Platform Gallery at the railway station is open so I have a look around at the art and crafts on display resisting any attempt to purchase. P1060631 P1060634 P1060635 P1060636

Time for some proper rambling. I make my way through familiar streets down to Brungerley Bridge and my reunion with the River Ribble for the third time in thee outings. A gentle stroll downstream and I see the imposing C17th Waddow Hall on the opposite bank. It has been used by girl guides for decades but now the Association in their wisdom has decided to sell it. P1060644 P1060650 P1060655

The river has been placid until now where it flows over a weir and cataracts down the valley. This is where water would have been taken off into a leat for the mill downstream. Out of the woods and past all the horsey fields and tidy allotments. Down here was once a mill village, Lowmoor. In 1928 when the mill closed, there were 200 houses (many back to back), nine shops, a National school, church and two Methodist chapels. The mill was demolished but many of the houses remained now being swallowed up by a modern estate on the site of the mill. P1060657

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I pop out onto the road between the Swimming Pool and gym and head back to the river at Edisford Bridge. I walked this section less than a week ago. The riverbank being popular with young families. Still no Kingfisher. P1060667 P1060668

Across the road, the one leading to the tip, and at last onto new ground – a field path alongside Pendleton Brook. A hazy Pendle Hill in the background. New housing is spreading out here and soon after the railway bridge I’m hemmed in. P1060671 P1060675

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Did an architect actually design this.

I recognise the buildings of Primrose Mill, an early cotton mill, which have been tastefully converted into office spaces. At Scott Bridge the culverted Mearley Brook heads through the complex before joining the for aforementioned Pendleton Brook. A fish ladder has been built along this stretch to give fish access to higher water beyond the dam of Primrose Lodge, Having spent thousands I wonder has anybody told the fish. P1060681 P1060682

Looking down onto the fish ladder.

Fish ladder in construction. ribbletrust.org.uk

Rather than walk along the road I take to the Primrose Nature Reserve which follows the valley of Mearley Brook beyond the lodge. At the end I escape up a cobbled street towards the church. P1060683 P1060692 P1060696

It’s noon when I find my way into the Holmes Mill complex. A former C19th Textile Mill, it was the last working cotton mill in Clitheroe, steam-driven until 1973. Historic England tells you all about it. In the last ten years redevelopment has resulted in a cornucopia of beer, food, ice cream, cinema, bowling alley and hotel. I head for the Beer Hall, said to have the longest bar in England, and home to Bowland Brewery. I choose their new season pale ale – Happy Hedgehog and find a quiet corner to enjoy. There are more waiters than customers. As well as the Bowland Beers the bar holds at least 40 other drafts. Next door is the engine room with a steam engine in situ. The bistro and foodhall are packed with customers. P1060698 P1060712

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Four and a half miles and I was home for lunch. More of a verbal ramble than actual walking.

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RAMBLING ON THE RIVERBANK.

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My enthusiasm in last weekend’s sunshine for getting an early start has waned. Today I’m still faffing about late into the morning, procrastinating over the weather and a suitable walking route. But the weather is improving so I shouldn’t miss the day. Whilst I was in Clitheroe I picked up half a dozen leaflets describing walks based on local pubs. Walks with Taste in Ribble Valley. published by Ribble Valley Borough Council and sponsored by Whalley Warm & Dry, a trusted outdoor shop.

I find on their website there are more, 16 in total and all downloadable. P1060494

For convenience I choose the one starting in Hurst Green, 15 minutes away.

“This riverside ramble starts from the Shireburn Arms and descends through farmland to the River Ribble, crossing the impressive footbridge at Dinkley, then following the river downstream towards Ribchester, returning through the woods and pasture to Hurst Green.”

I have walked this way many times but never tire of it, a route for all seasons. So lets go.

Parked in Hurst Green by 12 am. I take the familiar Lambing Clough Lane down to the dilapidated farm, Trough House. I can never tell if anybody actually lives here, a few years ago there was an invalided lady struggling on. There must be life as there are cars about and pullet eggs for sale. (Pullet eggs are small, extra-rich eggs laid by young chickens. Loved by chefs, they are not usually found in Supermarkets. and often go to egg powder factories) £1.50 for a dozen Michael! I buy six and use my waterproofs to hopefully transport them safely. A good start to the day.

Trough House.

Pullet eggs.

Shopkeepers.

I cross the heavily engineered new Dinkley Bridge, which has replaced an earlier, damaged, suspension bridge and an even earlier ferry. One of my old posts from 2015 illustrates that earlier bridge. Today the Ribble is in playful mood down the rapids, I have seen it in full spate here – a sight to behold. P1060543 P1060546 P1060551

I wander down to the sandy beach which was probably thronged last weekend. You can find a wide variety of geological pebbles down here. Strangely I find a decent garden trowel which goes into my backpack.

Then the sheep cropped turf is a delight to walk along. A meeting with a Blackburn Muslim couple gets me talking about early days vegetable shopping in Whalley Range, Blackburn and the Chapati and Dahl cafes back in the 70’s. P1060553 P1060556

Into Marles Wood, a tangle of tree roots. Trees seem to be having a tough time recently with lots blown down in the area. P1060562

The river is fast flowing through the gap into Sales Wheel where it all calms down again, I’ve seen it much worse. P1060569 P1060570 P1060566 P1060568

I escape from the trees onto the road for the unavoidable mile long trudge to Ribchester Bridge. The river will be flowing faster than I am walking. Along the way…

Salesbury Hall.

Manor Court Offices.

Elderflower wine?

Ribchester Bridge.

The lane past the timber store, signed The Ribble Way, has been resurfaced and I’m soon back on the riverbank for awhile. This section can be difficult, flood debris, tree roots and the river itself encroaching on the path. All good fun. I push my way through Himalayan Balsam which will be more troublesome later in the year. P1060497 P1060509 P1060510 P1060511

A metal gate, despite being bypassed. is probably safer than a dilapidated wooden stile.

I never quite know where to go after leaving the woods away from the river. Vaguely up the field, down to a stile and up the next field to an oak tree and gate. It’s up here you get those views down to the Ribble and Dinkley Bridge with Mother Pendle in the background, Onto a lane above Heyhurst, down again to a footbridge and then alongside fences. My leaflet gave decent directions. Shame that the Ribble Way is denied access to the Ribble for long stretches. A failed project. P1060527 P1060525

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I walk through a sea of buttercups. The cows are back in the fields, time for me to start heading to the fells. At least this lot are lying down – said to be a sign of rain in country folklore. (Cows are more likely to lay down when they’re chewing their cud rather than when expecting a storm.) P1060532 P1060529

I’m back where I started almost, why didn’t I wait till back here to collect the eggs? It did come onto rain along the road to Ribchester Bridge but as you know my waterproof was being used as safety wrapping for the half dozen eggs.

By the time I reach the top of the lane I’m ready for a pint in the Shireburn Arms. Bowland Brewery beer and a packet of crisps equate to the calories my phone says I have used on the walk. C’est la vie. P1060585

Another point, regarding the Trade Descriptions Act, less than two miles of this nearly six mile riverbank walk were on the riverbank. Blame that on the anglers and landowners denying us access to our rivers.

I’ve enjoyed it none the less – a classic Ribble walk.

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ALL HALLOWS CHURCH, MITTON, AND A BLACK DOG.

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Following my morning’s walk to Clitheroe and back by the River Ribble I had time to look around the church in Mitton, which was fortunately open. It features in Simon Jenkins England’s Thousand Best Churches.

The church dates from the late C13th.

Inside, the chancel screen includes some medieval woodwork, which possibly came from Sawley Abbey, after the dissolution of the monasteries.. There are ornate carvings on it.

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In the C16th a chapel was built on the north side of the church to house memorials of the staunchly Catholic Shireburn family from Stonyhurst. The alabaster tombs, dating from the 16th to the18th centuries. are said to be some of the finest in England. This is where it gets complicated, all of the men commemorated by the effigies in the chapel were named Richard Shireburn.

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The first Sir Richard died in 1594 shortly after the chapel was built. and is buried with his wife Maud, with voluminous petticoats. The detail on the carving is exquisite. It was created in the Royley family workshop in Burton-upon-Trent. P1060432 P1060434

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Sir Richard’s son died in 1629 and he is remembered by a large plaque on the north wall, depicting Sir Richard junior and his wife Catherine, kneeling in prayer, plus smaller images of their children. Two of the children are pictured in a bed, suggesting that they died in infancy. P1060425 P1060423

Three more altar tombs along the north wall are to the next succeeding generations: Richard (d.1668), Richard (d.1689) with his wife Isabel ( d.1693) and their son Richard (d. 1690). it was Isabel who commissioned the four marble effigies in the chapel before her own death in 1693. These were I think sculptured by William Stanton of Holborn, London.

Richard Shireburn, d.1668.

Sir Richard d.1689 and wife Isabel.

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Richard Shireburn d. 1690.

A monument on the west wall, is to Richard Francis Shireburn, (grandson of Richard and Isabel), who died in 1707, aged nine. The centre piece is thought to be his mourning mother. Screenshot 2024-05-28 222428 P1060415

On the floor is a badly eroded figure of a knight in armour, the notice tells the story. P1060435 P1060436 .

What a unique chapel telling the story of the Shireburn family whose legacy lives on in Stonyhurst School. Here it is seen from outside with the date stone and Shireburn family coat of arms above the door. P1060481 P1060476 P1060478

Whilst I’m outside in the graveyard I search for two Grade II listed historical relics – a sundial and an ancient cross.

The sundial is a tall inscripted, sandstone shaft dated from 1683. P1060460

The medieval cross has a C14th round head on a more modern shaft. The head depicts scenes from the crucifixion. It possibly came from one of the monasteries after dissolution. P1060462

Not far away up the lane is the base of another medieval cross. Whalley is close by and there would have been trade with Sawley Abbey.

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And now for something completely different. I drive a few miles into Clitheroe to seek out a new statue that Sharon of Sunshine and Celandines pointed out. A black dog prowling the streets, it’s just outside Booths supermarket.

We are at the heart of Pendle Witch country and several of my posts have reflected on their troubled history. Only recently I was exploring the The Pendle Sculpture Trail and in the past followed the Lancashire Witches Walk. A black dog was often associated with so called witches, and this one relates to James Device. He was one of the ten accused back in 1612 and was found guilty of witchcraft and hung at Lancaster. He had named his spiritual black dog Dandy.

An evocative statue made from stainless steel by Darwen based Marjan Wouda. It was certainly getting plenty of attention from the Saturday shoppers. A Devilish looking black dog.

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BOTH SIDES OF THE RIBBLE – A MITTON ROUND.

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Its four years since I last did this walk. https://bowlandclimber.com/2020/07/07/the-ribble-between-mitton-and-clitheroe/

I’m up early. Seth, my cat, demands his breakfast at 6am.. Out of the kitchen window the Weigela shrub is looking splendid in the morning sunshine, a good start to the day.

P1060325 P1060326 Too good to go back to bed. I’m motivated to get out there and do a walk. This one springs to mind.

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I’m parked in Mitton by 9am, a record for me. This time I walk the route clockwise. Leaving the road down a tree tunnel and I’m into open meadows. The grass is still damp from the overnight dew. Vast open blue skies surround me and entice me onwards, it’s that sort of morning. The way is not clear but I follow my nose between the occasional stile. Glimpses of Kemple End vie with the view of Waddington and Easington Fells ahead of me. Territorial fishing interests keep me away from the Ribble at this stage.

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The public footpath comes to an end on a little lane, ahead is a busy road but fortunately a concessionary path has been established to meet up with the Ribble and follow it into Clitheroe. (shown only as a black dotted line on the OS map) The signage says head for the yellow circle which unfortunately I can’t see. Heading in the right direction it becomes apparent at a gate next to the ‘bear chair’, which is looking worse for wear. P1060342 P1060343 P1060346

The path drops steeply down through the woods to run alongside a loop of the Ribble. I haven’t met anybody so far but spot dogwalkers on the opposite bank which I’ll be following shortly. P1060348 P1060350 P1060354

Out through the damp woods to the road at Edisford, Pub and Bridge. The signage is rather strict and restrictive but at least the concessionary path exists – too many of our river banks are no go areas. P1060355 P1060356 P1060359

This stretch of river, on the outskirts of Clitheroe, is a popular picnic spot due to nearby parking and also an adjacent camp site. Even early today there are people in the water, which incidentally has just received DEFRA designated bathing water status – whatever that means. There are more dogs in the water than humans however. P1060363 P1060369 P1060366 The path now continues back along the true left bank of the river. I’ve seen Kingfishers here, but not today. One is soon away from the razzmatazz of the picnic area only to find oneself on the busy little road to Clitheroe’s Waste Recycling centre. Past this there are only a few houses before the road ends and one is back into fields close to the river. I notice a reminder of the Covid restrictions and on the water Canada Geese are protecting their young whilst fishermen discus the best spot.

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The river is very calm along this stretch with only one weir for measuring the flow. P1060386

The cows are back in the fields but seem very docile, too intent on chewing the new grass. Pendle Hill doesn’t look far away, synonymous with the Ribble Valley. P1060385

I’m approaching the end of the walk and the path climbs up onto a promontory above the river. This sandy cliff is home to hundreds of Sand Martins at this time of year and they fill the sky, too fast to photograph. There are lots in the photograph below. P1060394

Across the river are the Church and Hall of Great Mitton and then I arrive at the road next to the Aspinall Arms, before they open for the day and too soon for a pint. Once a coaching inn known as the Mitton Boat. A ferry boat operated across the River Ribble before the present road bridge was built in the C19th. This was the border between Lancashire and Yorkshire before the reorganisation. P1060395 P1060396

I re-cross the river on another fine stone bridge and this is where you get that long view of the River Ribble winding its way under the gaze of Pendle. A view I never tire of. P1060400

Once safely over, it is a busy road, I climb up the hill to admire the old Hall. P1060403

The Three Fishes across the road has reopened as a fine dining venue, out of my price range I fear. P1060405

And there, next to where I parked my car, is All Hallows Church, dating from the C16th. P1060470

It has an interesting interior which I had been denied before, but the church was open today so I got to explore – but I think I will leave that to another post on a rainy day, along with Dandy, the black dog of Clitheroe!

This has been an easy four and a half mile walk in perfect weather with lots of variety, which I’m sure most of you would enjoy.

A BIT MORE OF BLEASDALE.

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Here I am in Bleasdale again, I walked around a couple of weeks ago.

Mike is searching for a four mile walk for his, increasingly aging, walking group. I suggest this as an option. good surfaces on the whole, no stiles or steep inclines. a toilet at the start and a pub not far off for lunch. We are joined by Moira who will be leading the walk if Mike is still sailing in Scottish waters. A perfect warm Spring afternoon awaits us.

I am writing it up again as I have come across some additional interesting history of the area, courtesy of Historic Walks around Bleasdale, Dixon and Jarvinen, hidden in my bookshelves from 1988. Anyhow I never tire of this circuit in the bowl of the fells.

As usual we park at the Grade II listed Saint Eadmer’s Church, the only one named so in the country. “There was a church on this site in the C16th. In 1702 Christopher Parkinson of Hazelhurst gave £5 10s a year for the wages of a minister. It was rebuilt in 1835. Mullioned windows from the original church were incorporated into the tower and decorated stones can be seen in the wall next to the gate“ P1050362 P1050368

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Nearby is Admarsh Barn, now converted into living accommodation. “Above the door is a date stone 1720 with the initials of the Robert Parkinson” mentioned above. P1050970

The short diversion to Bronze Age Bleasdale Circle is duly taken. It will look better when the replaced circle of trees have grown. P1050982

We walk on heading for the fells. Sheep and lambs are everywhere and we spend time trying to reunite a bleating lamb with its mother in another field, best to let them sort it out themselves. P1050979

Bypassing Admarsh Farm (1814) we climb slowly to Holme House farm, these are remote farmsteads. Now for an interesting historical update. The lane continues to Hazelhurst Farm passing an isolated cottage on the way. this had been derelict for years but is now refurbished and occupied.

“A hamlet known as Coolan once existed here, consisting of six cottages, the inhabitants making a living from wool combing and straw hat manufacturing. Only the old village stocks and a deserted cottage remain today (1988) as forlorn reminders of their industrial enterprise. The wool was transported as far as Burnley and Halifax and the packhorse bridge was built along the route at Brooks. Careful inspection of the farm walls around Hazelhurst will reveal the remains of mullioned windows, dressed building stone and old doorheads, part of the old Coolan“

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We are distracted by the farmers bringing in their sheep so we don’t see the stones – next time I will be on the lookout. P1050997

On through Clough Head, over the bridge built by the boys from the reformatory school, whose buildings still stand along the way. “This bridge was built by the boys of North Lancashire Reformatory School between 1858 and 1859 under the guidance of Christopher Foster, mason instructor at the school. Above the upstream arch of the bridge is a dated foundation stone and above the downstream arch is a carved tablet showing the bridges tools of construction. The school was established by W. G. Garnett, J.P. of Bleasdale Tower in 1857, to give one hundred boys useful employment, principally in agricultural labour, and their farming operations brought many areas of moorland into good cultivation“

I managed to take a photo of the downstream parapet once,

We don’t go up to the Tower but follow the estate road left past the Packhorse Bridge, by beautiful beech hedges and the old school buildings, closed in 2019 when only two pupils were registered. back to our car. P1060006

What a lovely walk in the bowl of the fells and now a little more of its history told.

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PENDLE SCULPTURES.

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If you go down to the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise.

I had heard of the Pendle Sculpture Trail for years but never searched it out. Launched in 2012 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the trial of the Pendle witches. The Pendle area is steeped in witchcraft heritage and legends. I have previously walked the 50 mile Lancashire Witches Walk from Barrowford to Lancaster Castle, where the witches had been tried, again commemorating the 400 years. Along that walk are a series of cast iron Tercets (like a Haiku) embossed with stanzas from the walk’s poem, written by the then Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy, each one relating to one of the ten witches hung.

The Pendle Sculpture Trail has a similar theme and starts in Barley taking you around nearby Aitken Wood. We come armed with a leaflet downloaded from the Visit Pendle website. It shows 26 installations, I think we find a dozen at most. sculpture_trail_print_friendly_2019_v2.pdf (letswalkinpendle.co.uk)

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An easy stroll out of Barley on a private United Utilities lane is pleasant in the morning sunshine but there is a cold wind blowing from somewhere. Is there a storm witch behind us? Entering the woods is an outsized rubric cube type wooden puzzle. We marvel at its intricate construction but have no idea why it is here. P1050414

Be prepared for a steep start to the forest trail, perhaps we are out of puff and so don’t spot the first few sculptures. A roe deer disappears in the trees. P1050415

We can’t miss the Magic Chair (Ben Gates) right by the path. Intricate wood carvings connected by metal fastenings. distorted and moulded. Spooky limbs and eyes but lovely boots. It was a little cold on the bum to sit in for long. P1050419 P1050418

I am disappointed we missed, or had it disappeared, the Quaker Tree in view of my recent postings on George Fox and the beginnings of Quakerism.

The Witchfinder (Martyn Bednarczuk) was obvious through the trees. Based on Roger Nowell the local magistrate who investigated and prosecuted the witches. Very stern. Why do people feel the need to insert coins into wooden statues, apart from being unsightly it hastens the demise of the wood. P1050420

Neither of us can work out the significance of the Ceramic Column, (Sarah McDade) and it isn’t particularly attractive despite the exquisite smoothness of the ceramics which is appreciated by Clare who dabbles in pottery. The good thing about outdoor sculptures is there are no signs saying ‘don’t touch’. P1050422

Are we getting our eyes in, for we soon spot the next two. Reconnected 1 and 2. (Phillipe Handford) are trees that have been felled and cleverly sprung back to their stumps. I like these, very organic. Unfortunately, as it is with wood, rot is setting in. P1050424 P1050423 P1050425 P1050426

Nearby and rather scary is the resin Wishing Widow, (Joe Hesketh). The artist herself, a local lass, apparently was a loner in her childhood and felt herself a witch, casting spells on her classmates. This may explain her strange sculpture.

We miss a few more until we come across the Rings of Time, (Phillipe Hartford) strung from the trees. Maybe a nod to Star Trek or the rings aging a tree. We don’t see the significance of the dates on the discs, but here is a full explanation. All a bit too obtuse as we are stood below them.

1324 – Barley ‘Barlegh’ appears

1507 – Pendle Forest deforested by Henry V11

1612 – Local ‘witches’ taken to Lancaster Castle

1652 – George Fox

1661 – Richard Towneley’s barometric readings on Pendle Hill

1750 – First Inghamite church in Fence

1894 – Black Moss reservoir built

1912 – Clarion House built

1918 – War memorial in Barley

1935 – Aitken Wood planted

1938 – Whitehough established

1945 – end of WW2 and losses from Barley

1987 – The Pendleway created

2012 – Sculpture trail started

2018 – second phase of the trail

One of the blank discs is for when time began and an empty ring for infinity.

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The Black Dog, (Incredible Creations) can’t be missed. More like a fierce demonic wolf than a dog. Black dogs were associated with witchcraft back in those days. We give him a replacement horn for the one that had gone missing. P1050431 P1050432

Look up and you will see Three Bats In Flight, (Steve Blaycock) another animal associated with witches, is this all getting too scary for children? I hope I don’t have nightmares. P1050435 P1050434

Somehow we miss other bats allegedly hanging in the trees. The Living Wall, (Phillipe Harford) is unanimously dismissed as rubbish. P1050441

I am looking at the all encompassing greenery on the trees in the shady forest and there all of a sudden is a Dryad, (Incredible Creations) emerging from her tree. She is covered with Ivy, has acorn earrings and a butterfly in her hair. Closer examination shows it isn’t a living tree at all but part of the sculpture, the bracket fungi have me fooled. There is even a ladybird lurking around the back. Dryads or Tree Nymphs only live as long as the tree they inhabit, which could be a long time.

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Spiders, owls and a fairy are not found; we aren’t doing very well really. But there is a Unicorn, (Incredible Creations again) another mythical beast. Only the deep surrounding mud prevented Clare taking a ride of fancy. P1050444 P1050445 As we leave the forest a stark metal silhouette of Chained Witches, (Peter Naylor) being marched from Pendle to Lancaster. I am impressed with the detail imparted by a few strips of metal, a reflection of the artist’s skill. P1050446 P1050449 P1050450 P1050451

As the artist says and implies in his sculpture “These women were not actual witches but rather misunderstood individuals. Some of them were elderly, and some with various mental issues. Society and the authorities unjustly persecuted and executed them. The sculpture serves as a reminder of their plight and the importance of empathy and justice in our own time” The latter I fear sadly missing.

All along up here in these delightful woods Pendle Hill has been looking doen on us, as it seems to do in most of this part of Lancashire. P1050452

We walk back down to the Black Moss reservoirs and take a different path home through fields full of primroses and trees festooned with healthy lichen. P1050453 P1050454 P1050457 P1050458

Across the way the rather stark Aitken Wood hides her secrets. P1050456

That witchy wind has become even colder so we are glad of a coffee in the friendly little café back at the carpark in Barley. Next up for more Pendle sculptures is Letcliffe Park in Barnoldswick.

If you do this walk, about three miles, be sure to highlight the sculptures we have missed.

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AT LAST. THE QUAKERS AROUND SEDBERGH.

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This post has been two weeks in the writing, not that that makes it any better.

It’s been a strange time. Monday, having my haircut with Phil, a traditional barber, we all come out with the same style, fine by me. Most of our conversation was about mutual friends who have or who are shortly to depart our presence. With a humorous twist I can’t go into details here.

After my recent soaking on Longridge Fell I decided on some indoor culture for Tuesday. There were some interesting exhibitions at Abbots Hall Gallery in Kendal. I drove up in horrendous wet conditions on the motorway, found somewhere to park, £3.50, and walked to the hall only to find it only opens Thursday to Saturday at this time of year! Why didn’t I check? I phoned Sir Hugh in Arnside hoping for some sympathy and coffee, but ironically he was in Preston shopping. Drove back down the motorway in horrendous wet conditions.

Then on the Friday drove down to Manchester to visit my longtime friend, since university days, who is suffering with Pancreatic Cancer. It was a joyous occasion as we dutifully reminisced our days in various flats in London; beer, curries, girls, music and football. He showed me around his local park, John Leigh. What a wonderful space cared for by wonderful volunteers, a blue print for community parks anywhere.

The sun shone on Saturday, Sunday and Monday but I was ill, another humorous incident I can’t recall here. The tablets were working so I hoped to take advantage of a good forecast and complete a walk I have had in mind for some time – The Sedbergh Quaker Trail. It was not to be, three close friends died this week and I was quite depressed. I missed the good weather.

Preparations were underway for all my family visiting at the weekend for my birthday. I awoke in the night and found that my electricity had tripped. At 3am I was paddling about in my dressing gown trying to find the problem. I isolated it to the kitchen and disconnected everything in there, but it still tripped. Into the garage for extension cables to at least keep my freezer and fridge working. The birthday dinner must be saved., not sure how I will cook it. An early phone call, Saturday morning, to our community electricians and within an an hour Paul is prowling around the kitchen with his magic electric probe. “The problem is between these sockets and the dishwasher” Visions of the walls coming down. But as both of us lie on the floor peering into the dark of that forgotten space behind the kickboard below the units the evidence is clear – a mouse has been nibbling at the wires. Within a short time he has rewired it and all is go. I’m keeping the space open until a few mice have been humanely caught and deported.

The birthday meal was a huge success.

All of this has nothing to do with Sedbergh and the Quakers but may explain my tardiness.

***

Historians mark 1652 as the beginning of the Quaker movement. In that year on Pendle Hill George Fox, (1624-1691) is said to have had a vision commanding him to “sound the day of the Lord” to a great gathering of people. I have written about Fox’s Well.

In June1652, fresh from his vision on Pendle Hill, George Fox arrived in Sedbergh. He did not preach in St. Andrew’s church there but the next day he was encouraged to attend a large gathering of ‘Seekers’ and other nonconformists in and around the small chapel on Firbank Fell a few miles from Sedbergh.

Fox wouldn’t go into the chapel to preach but instead spoke for three hours to the gathered crowd from the top of a nearby crag – this is now known as Fox’s Pulpit. Many Seekers were convinced by Fox on the Fell that day and added their weight of missionary zeal to his and what became the Society of Friends, or ‘Quakers’ – after Fox told a Derby judge to “tremble at the word of the Lord” By 1660, there were 50,000 followers.

Meeting houses for silent prayer and contemplation, such as Swarthmoor near Ulverston, and Brigflatts near Sedbergh, were subsequently built. Brigflatts,1675, in Cumbria, is one of the most famous Quaker meeting houses, known and loved by Friends all over the world. It is acknowledged for all the simplicity of its lime-washed stone walls and interior woodwork — panelling, columns and balustrading — as one of England’s vernacular gems. For many, the peace and tranquillity of the Meeting House at Brigflatts leave a lasting impression. (information from their website.)

People of all faiths can admire the Quakers’ respect for all humans, their tolerance and belief in peace without the need for churches, rituals, holy days, or sacraments, to practice religion. Rather religion should be something one lived and acted out every day. These ideas were radical in a period where the established church held great political power, and many early Quakers were imprisoned and oppressed for these beliefs. Quakers were conscientious objectors in both world wars. Because Quakers were barred from universities and many professions, one natural outlet for them was in business. A large number of British businesses were founded by Quakers, including such household names as Barclays, Lloyds, Carr’s, Clarks, Cadbury, Reckitt’s, Rowntree, Fry and Terry’s. The football team In Darlington that I supported as a teenager was nicknamed The Quakers from the links within the town.

***

This Tuesday the forecast is good, Despite a bit of faffing I am parked in Sedbergh by 10 am. Too soon to pick up a leaflet from the Tourist Information Office describing this walk. I’ll just have to do it from the map and follow my nose, I think I am pretty good at that.

I pay a visit to St. Andrew’s church. Once through the cemetery I’m on a quiet lane to Birks, a hamlet of farming cottages, a brief flirtation with the River Rawthey. P1040883 P1040884

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Through muddy fields to visit Brigflatts Meeting House. What a beautiful peaceful place. Built in the style of a Cumbrian farm house, it has open doors for visitors. The porch with its ?original studded door leads into the main room. A place for prayer or contemplation. Alongside was another room used as a library of relevant books and a place to sit and have a brew. All very inclusive. P1040895 P1040900 P1040896 P1040899

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I move on, suitably refreshed in mind and body. I think I miss a turn to Ingmire Hall but find myself on The Dales Way for the first time in 40 years. It is a little disappointing following the road verge for some while. Some rather complicated navigating through The Oaks, holiday lets now, and I’m on the banks of the Lune for a short stretch to the strangely named Lincoln’s Inn Bridge. The adjacent farm had been an in at one time.

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I leave the Dales Way until rejoining it later in the day, and find a way up into the mixed woodlands which will be resplendent with bluebells in a few weeks time. For photos of them have a look at John Bainbridge’s post from 2022. P1040941 P1040947

Emerging onto a narrow moorland lane at New Field.

Onwards and upwards I reach the highest point and there on the right is the rock or pulpit from where Fox is said to have preached way back in 1652. An isolated spot as you could find. P1040954 P1040957 P1040965

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The plaque affixed to the rock reads –

Here or near this rock George Fox preached to about one thousand seekers for three hours on Sunday, June 13, 1652. Great power inspired his message and the meeting proved of first importance in gathering the Society of Friends known as Quakers. Many men and women convinced of the truth on this fell and in other parts of the northern counties went forth through the land and over the seas with the living word of the Lord enduring great hardships and winning multitudes to Christ.

I sit atop of the rock eating my sandwich, nobody about to hear my words. The chapel mentioned up here fell into disrepair and has vanished but there is an abandoned graveyard with one lone standing gravestone.

I choose a nearby squelchy, but well signed, bridleway to take me back down the valley. The Howgills are spread out in front of me, but unfortunately the summits are cloud covered. P1040973 P1040975

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Half way down past Goodies Farm I cross the bed of an old railway. This was from Ingleton, via Kirkby Lonsdale and Sedbergh. to join the main line at Tebay. It opened in 1861 and the rails were finally lifted in 1967, twelve years after it had closed to passengers. I had previously passed below it near Brigflatts and seen in the distance the Waterside Viaduct. P1040992

I cross the River Lune on a recently rebuilt footbridge and back onto the Dales Way but now going in the opposite direction. P1040995 P1040996 P1040997

A series of farms and fields take me south. The farmer at Hole House complains about the wet weather causing problems at lambing time. At Nether Bainbridge most is falling down.

Along the track a farmer is repairing his drystone wall. I get the whole history of the area. A magic conversation. P1050014

I leave the Dales Way at Bramaskew and walk on to High Branthwaite, taking the farm lane up to Howgill Lane which I can follow all the way back to Sedbergh. The alternative was to walk along the higher fellside of Winder Hill on open access land. After nine miles I was happy to use the traffic free lane. All the time looking at the surrounding fells. The Howgills, Baugh Fell and Dentdale with time to spot a few early flowers. The area is mostly neglected by hiking community who go elsewhere to the honey pots. I’ve not met a single walker all day on my ten mile round. P1050026

Back in Sedbergh the village is buzzing with visitors mostly decked out in the latest walking garb. The, no doubt otherwise helpful, Tourist Information closed at 4pm so I never acquired that walk leaflet.

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***

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BELOW PENDLE AGAIN.

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I’m parked up at the same spot as a couple of weeks ago in straggly RIMINGTON. There seem to be more cars about than last time, perhaps a walking group have departed some time before me. But I never meet another walker throughout this short walk. Looking again at Clitheroe Ramblers’ 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys I see this is the only one I have not completed in the past. It should prove ideal for a short off the cuff walk.

C18th Bustards Farm, my starting point in the village.

It is a pleasure to be back on the better drained limestone hills after last weekend’s mud-bath. Straight forward walking out of the village, across fields on a concessionary path and then a footbridge across Ings Beck. Robins are singing from every tree, Jays are making a commotion in the woods, yellow Celandines are poking through and the sun is shining, so perhaps we have turned a corner in the seasons. I’m soon alongside Twiston Mill and on to the minor road. I resist the short diversion up to Witches Quarry, a popular limestone climbing venue.

Twiston Mill.

Its silted up mill pond.

Each chapter in the book is written by a different local author and the standard of accuracy has varied, todays is not the best and I have to resort to my OS mapping on the phone to find my way above Twiston. Its uphill all the way to meet the next minor road. I recognise some stretches from a reverse walk in March two years ago which helps. The Blackthorn Blossom is just starting, as it was last time I came this way. P1040666 P1040665

Looking back to the Ribble Valley.

All morning Pendle Hill has been looming above me, a little hazy at times and at the road its big end is directly above. The scenery changes here, I’ve left the green pastures and venture onto the open moors for a stretch above Coolham Farm. This is the highest I get on Pendle’s skirts. I have to imagine Ingleborough and Pen-Y-Ghent ahead of me in the haze but can pick out Rimington far below. P1040670 P1040673

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Out of nowhere a wall enclosed green lane appears heading down from Twiston Moor. I follow it, doglegging, until alongside a deep wooded clough, the upper reaches of Ings Beck. I try to take some pictures of the red buds on the Larches here but the breeze makes it difficult to focus. P1040683 P1040680 P1040691 P1040687 P1040695

Just outside the garden of Clough Head Farm is the Thomas Peel Bulcock memorial of which I knew nothing. It was erected by Thomas Bulcock in 1863 in memory of his son buried here and other relations buried in Whalley and Downham churchyards. The Bulcock family apparently had a long association with the area. P1040698 P1040701

Having passed through the farmyard I find myself in one of the longest fields I’ve seen in these parts. Back to green pastures I wander down the hillside to come out onto a familiar lane. P1040704 P1040705 P1040710

From there I traverse the hillsides above the Ings Beck where silver rich lead was mined for many years. I wrote about this last time. Today I find the remains of the limekiln for the little limestone quarry and pass the mine managers cottage. Oh and that lamp post in the middle of nowhere.

Knowing the way I am soon back into sleepy Rimington. P1040739 P1040746

The converted Black Bull and Cosgroves ladies clothing shop.

A sprightly five miles.

***

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GRUNSAGILL.

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Grunsagill, no I hadn’t heard of it either. This map gives a clue, only just in Lancashire. Screenshot 2024-03-04 150021

***

I have previously come up the Skirden Beck from Bolton-by-Bowland as far as Blue Scar, but today we were heading farther up alongside its tributaries to the isolated hamlet of Grunsagill. It turned out to be quite an epic, if one can apply that word to rural Lancashire.

Mike found the walk in 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys by Clitheroe Ramblers. We have followed a few of their walks in recent week deep in our countryside. I notice that the publication is 20 years old now so one expects to find changes in the routes, but our experience is more that nobody is walking some of these rural paths which are becoming overgrown with poor infrastructure. What would today be like up above Bowland-by-Bowland.

Yes, it is official it has been the wettest February in recent history so we can expect mud at the very least. In fact we miss out the first water-logged field in favour of the water-logged farm lane alongside Blue Scar, with locked gates. The farm has been unoccupied for years and last time I was here I struggled to find the PROW up from Skirden Beck into and through the farmyard, only to discover there was a concessionary path bypassing the farm altogether. Forewarned we follow it today dropping us down to the beck side. Those new galvanised gates help us find the way to the footbridge and the steep climb to Ray Head Farm, 1677. The fields are merely damp. P1040578 P1040579

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Barking dogs guard the farm yard but are called off as we pass through and follow more gates and newly planted hedges up towards Lodge Farm. There are hills ahead we don’t recognise and behind ever present Pendle watches our progress. So far so good. We stop to take off a few layers as the day has warmed up, the sun is shining and there is no wind. A green and pleasant land given over to sheep farming.

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We are back to wooden stiles now and the guide warns of difficult route finding, we go astray in the wrong field above and unable to gain access to New Gill Beck. Backtracking is the only option and we find our own way down through no man’s land to another new gate and the little footbridge over the beck. Out of the blue we come across a waymark for The Ribble Valley Jubilee Trail. Later research suggests this would be a worthwhile week’s 65 mile walk through some of the best of the Ribble Valley. P1040591 P1040592 P1040593

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Strangely there is an in situ caravan relic in the next field, no idea how it got there. P1040596 P1040598

We make better progress on a pleasant stretch alongside the beck. P1040602 P1040600

And there in front of us is the imposing Beckfoot Farmhouse with its mullioned windows, dating from1686 and partly rebuilt 1876. The lower plaque in the porch says EBI AN.DO 1686. P1040604 P1040607 P1040606 P1040605

Stately living indeed and they are making changes to the landscape hereabouts, lots, and I mean lots, of tree planting but the footpath remains clear through their estate. There has also been a lot of work done along with the environment agencies to slow down the flow of water in the beck in times of heavy rain. A work in progress no doubt. It looks like an ideal place to reintroduce Beavers? P1040609 P1040610

A bit of rougher ground and a dodgy footbridge brought us to the road at Butterfields. P1040611 We now follow the quiet lanes for a mile or so, at the high point Pendle comes into view again. There are lots of cyclists, presumably from east Lancashire clubs, using this switchback route. A majority of the properties seem to be holiday lets, is this the only future for English farming? See below. P1040614

We drop into Grunsagill, a once stately house and a couple of farms. Chatting to the farmer he says it is too cold and wet up here for lambing now, best in April. In fact it turns out his sheep are down in lower fields at Longridge where we have come from.
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A brief spell by Grunsagill Beck, another tributary of Skirden Beck, and we descend into what is basically a holiday village, Lower Gill. Farm buildings done up as self catering units and attached recreational facilities including a heated pool. P1040619 P1040620

If the day had ended here we would have been very happy with our walk.

The next three quarters of a mile however were spent sinking into the worst possible flooded fields and then even worse trying to stay afloat on what was basically a slurry lagoon. Slurry is an integral part of modern farming where animal waste together with other waste organic farm matter is converted over a period of time into fertilizer that can be reused on their lands to fertilize crops. It should be in a controlled slurry pit not dumped into farm lanes. Slurry pits are dangerous enough from the point of view of deadly gases and drowning. Out here we felt very vulnerable on the virtually impassable slurry track. God knows what damage and pollution the run off into streams is creating. It can’t all be blamed on the wet weather, this is dumped farm waste. It should be looked upon as a serious enough problem as fly tipping in the countryside and sewage disposal by the big water companies. A world away from the high end vacation focused and sanitised ‘farming’ back at Lower Gill. I wonder if it is their land and slurry? P1040626 P1040629 P1040631 P1040630

We needed hosing down and disinfecting after the ordeal. A walk to enjoy in the summer months.

***

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RIMINGTON – ‘Time flies swiftly away’.

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For a change you may start this post with a piece of music to set the scene.

The tune is the hymn ‘Rimington’, composed by Francis Duckworth. He was born in the Ribble Valley village of Rimington on Christmas Day 1862 at the grocery store, now a house. When he was five he moved with his family to nearby Stopper Lane, where they ran the village shop next door to a Wesleyan Chapel and hand loom cottages, now all private residences. Francis’s mother died when he was 12 and he began a hard life of working in various family shops. He later opened his own grocer’s shop in Colne. He was well known throughout the area as an accomplished musician and organist and composed many hymns, often named after local villages. ‘Rimington’ appeared in 1904. He remained in Colne until his death in 1941. He is buried in nearby Gisburn’s churchyard where his memorial is inscribed with the first couple of lines of his famous hymn.

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We find ourselves parked this morning in that village of Rimington to follow another walk from Clitheroe Ramblers – 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys. Once again under the shadow of Pendle Hill, only a few miles from touristy Downham where I was a couple of weeks ago. But there are no tourists here, it is a curious village strung out along the lane with no obvious centre and a variety of housing styles. The Black Bull pub mentioned in the guide is nowhere to be seen, presumably closed.

Anyhow we find our footpath heading into the fields – it is marked as a Heritage Trail, of which we know nothing. Some of the stiles are hard to spot with the sun in our eyes; as is Pendle towering above us. Yes, at last the sun is making a weak appearance today. In places the stiles have been replaced by those utilitarian galvanised kissing gates. I’m still not bowled over by them, being a dyed in the wool old git; see below. Anyway we head towards a farm through more tradional old gate posts and past a street light in the middle of nowhere. Bits of limestone break through the grass giving us a clue to the geology of the area. P1040511 P1040514 P1040517 P1040519 P1040522

Before we go farther I would like to do a poll on which of the following you feel is most appropriate in our countryside, assuming progress has to be made. Galvanised or green?

Disused mines are marked on our map, perhaps they are something to do with the heritage trail. On the ground, pits start to appear all over the hillside and across the other side of Ings Valley. Apparently silver rich lead was recovered from here originally in the C17th from bell pits and later on an industrial scale from mine shafts. A smelt mill was built in the C19th. “Between 1880 and 1885 the York & Lancaster United Mining Co. Ltd sank a shaft and raised some ore. Unfortunately, James Wiseman, the banksman in charge of the shaft top, fell down the shaft and was killed in September 1884” This latter information I gleamed later from the internet where Rimington’s heritage is well represented. We should have known this before to fully appreciate and interpret the area. P1040526 P1040528 P1040530 P1040529

We come across a small limestone quarry but fail to spot its limekiln. P1040532

There is probably a lot of heritage around here.

In the distance below Pendle is listed but modernised Clough Head Farm. We are almost on the border of Lancashire and Yorkshire hereabouts. I remember when White Rose flags were flown in Gisburn long after it had been assimilated into Lancashire. Lanes, which switchback the slopes, bring us to Middop Hall, C17th and again listed but without much change. A grand display of mullioned windows. Somewhere in the barn are remnants of Sawley Abbey. The stone from the abbeys must have been reused in many farms in the area, we have passed some at Little Mearley Hall before. P1040536 P1040537 P1040543 P1040541

Shortly after leaving Widdop Hall we get into conversation with a friendly farmer on his quad bike. After the usual discussion on the weather he opens up and tells us he lives at the Hall and relates its history. If only we had met him down there we may have had a closer look around.

Onwards on the deserted lane with more ups and downs than I want. Then we are heading up onto the slopes of Weets Hill to join the Pennine Bridleway on Coal Pit Lane, more heritage there.
P1040548 P1040550 From this elevated position the Three Yorkshire Peaks are just visible but too hazy to photograph. It is a slightly better view down the Ribble Valley towards the Parlick and Fairsnape group of Bowland. And of course you can’t get away from Pendle in these parts. P1040551 P1040553 Soon we are on the return leg, again on quiet lanes, through the hamlets of Howgill, Newby and Stopper Lane. Lots of interesting buildings are passed and we guess at their original purposes.

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A lot we walk past without a second glance, never mind a photograph. We do notice the plaque to Duckworth in Stopper Lane, but had no idea of the industry here. The historic photo is of the village’s joinery shop with its ‘windmill’. Screenshot 2024-02-24 213325 Screenshot 2024-02-24 213447 Here abouts is the village institute hall, a good half mile out of the village proper. But it does have an information board which tells us, all too late, about the Heritage Trail we have almost followed. P1040562

If you are planning to visit this area be sure to download this map from their website. https://www.rimington.org.uk/index.php/rimington-s-heritage/heritage-trail We wish we had and feel the need to go back and check out our omissions.

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The sundial on Martin Top Chapel, under scafolding today, is a reminder that this life we live is short and fleeting, and also seems to comment on the changes that have occured quite rapidly in these working villages in our lifetime.

*** Screenshot 2024-02-24 203735

BASHALL EAVES CIRCULAR.

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On the map this looks like a nice gentle rural walk, perfect for Mike’s training schedule before flying off to Madeira’s sunny adventures. I agreed to join him, secretly knowing the true facts from a relatively recent visit.

Another route he had chosen from Clitheroe Ramblers’ Walks in the Ribble and Hodder valleys. Today it was the Hodder.

The cloud was down on the Bowland Fells which is a shame as there is a fell race up there today. Even Longridge Fell stayed under mist as we drove alongside to park in Bashall Eaves. We had a window of dry weather until about three this afternoon. Better get a move on.

All started well along a farm track, the guide’s instructions just said follow a waymarked route through the farm and cross five fields. Of course there were no waymarks and we had to ask the farmer the way out of his yard. He looked us up and down and delivered the fateful “there is a lot of water in the fields” before sending us into those fields. The first was the worst, a glutinous shaking morass. It was best to keep sidestepping the worst and not linger as your boots were being sucked down. To make things worse the stiles, if you could find them, were rotting and held together with string. Not a good start to the day and I knew things were to become far worse. Not many people come this way. P1040381 P1040382

If we are going to have to become accustomed to water logged ground in the future I think I need to invest in some good walking Wellingtons.

Agden Farm was a Land Rover graveyard, at least the cows are kept inside,. The path, as it was, disappeared into undergrowth before tackling a steep ravine on muddy steps. This was the first of several cloughs we encountered today, steep and slippery down and steep and slippery back up. P1040390 P1040386 P1040393 P1040398

Guesswork and some dodgy stiles delivered us to the next roller coaster, Paper Mill Wood, where at the bottom a fast flowing stream had to be forded. There was a brief respite alongside the River Hodder, the scenery idyllic. This is fishermen’s territory and there isn’t a lot of public access. P1040403 P1040404 P1040406 P1040407 P1040411 P1040415

Open fields above the Hodder, with the instruction to head uphill to the three oaks. That was easy enough, they were unmistakable. Now head for a lone ash. This brought on a discussion on identifying trees in Winter mode, a skill neither of us had, I may go on a course I see they are running at Brockholes Nature Reserve. Drop down to a stile wasn’t very helpful as we couldn’t see one. But there was the faintest evidence of a path, the first today. Not many come this way. P1040420

I was telling Mike about the next bridge, at one time erroneously marked as ‘Roman Bridge’ but more likely a mill packhorse bridge, we were heading for. How maybe 35 years ago my eldest son and I arrived at it on a walk to find it taped off and in a dangerous state. We recklessly crawled across the crumbling stonework with a large drop below us. I had returned a few times after it was rebuilt as a wooden structure in 1997. But the bridge we came to today didn’t look very impressive, perhaps my memory is playing tricks. P1040425

No we weren’t there yet. Dropping farther into the woods we eventually arrived at the deep ravine of Mill Brook and the dramatic ‘new’ bridge. It was an impressive, as I had remembered it, and no doubt expensive, piece of engineering. The brook is 40 feet below. Having not met a single person since the first farm, a spaniel trotted across the bridge in front of us, soon to be followed by his master. The conversation that ensued turned out to be between two architects, one practising and the other retired. I listened in. He, the practising one, had just come from Lees House where he had been responsible for recent renovations. He warned us of more slippery paths to come and then posed on the bridge for his photo. P1040426 P1040428

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The way onwards and upwards was indeed awkward through a series of fallen trees. Not many people come this way, get the idea. P1040435

The guide book has you continuing across fields to pick up the road for a while before doubling back to Lees House. A rather pointless exercise as there is on the map a lane direct to the house from the edge of the woods. All right, it may not be a public right of way but we were happy to risk it and we were soon through the buildings without encroaching on their privacy and back on track.

On track meant a narrow hemmed in path past Lees House and a slithering descent through the woods to yet another footbridge over Mill Brook. (I wonder if a direct way could be found alongside the brook from the near the ‘Roman’ bridge). I have never found an easy way up from this latest footbridge, often ending up in impenetrable Elephant grass. Today we staggered steeply upwards through the mud and low tree branches. Not many people come this way. The grass has not started its growing season yet, but was lurking in the background. Eventually we were in the open fields heading to salvation. In hindsight, a wonderful thing, I think I might know a better way next time. P1040438 P1040440 P1040443 P1040445

Salvation was reaching the farm track at Micklehurst Farm in the middle of nowhere. It was great to hear and see Lapwings flying over these fields. Some of the caged working dogs were noisy but probably harmless, but the brown one on a short chain looked particularly menacing. How strong are those chains?

We didn’t quite make the entrance to Browsholme Hall. The seldom travelled side road took us through felled plantations, now being resurrected as nature reserves. That often in these parts is an equivalent for pheasant breeding and shooting grounds.

I diverted from the direct way back to Bashalls to show Mike the Saddle Bridge below Rugglesmire Hall. Probably from the C17th but restored, by public conscription in 1954. It is known locally as Fairy Bridge, said to have been built one night by fairies to help an old woodcutter who was being pursued by witches. A delightful spot. P1040455

In the hamlet of Bashall Eaves, maybe a dozen cottages, is a preserved Lancashire Cheese press worth a picture. P1040478

A delightful walk, all great fun. Those six miles took us over four hours. Come prepared for a testing time, but enjoy the unspoilt environment and wildlife of Bowland.

Across the fields to Longridge Fell.

***

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IN THE SHADOW OF PENDLE.

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After all that arty stuff over in Yorkshire last week it is time to get back to some proper Lancashire walking.

This walk is described as a classic in the booklet published by Clitheroe Ramblers – 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys. An excellent little production from 2004 with several authors describing their favourite local walks. I can vouch for most of them.

Wednesday is the only decent day of the week before a yellow warning for snow and ice. I thought of going for my usual cycle ride around Morecambe Bay and visiting Sir Hugh, but he turns out to be occupied, it can wait till another time when he is free. All this thinking and procrastinating and it is nearly lunchtime. Who else would be free for a quick short walk – I phone JD and he says he will be ready in 15 minutes, that’s what friend are for. Somehow I feel I need company today.

An easy drive and we are parked up by the little stream in Downham, one of the prettiest villages in Lancashire. The estate does not allow overhead electricity lines, aerials or satellite dishes etc , making it a popular location for period films. The classic 1961 film Whistle Down the Wind was based on the area and more recently the BBC 1 series Born and Bred. Many of the buildings in the village and surroundings are listed, including the stone bridge we are parked by.

But we haven’t come to look at the houses, no we have a brisk 5 miles to walk in the limestone country below towering Pendle. The guide book is very functional and basically just gives you directions without any historic or geological embellishments.

Chapter 14. A Downham Classic. Gill Morpeth.

We are soon unto fields heading towards Worsaw End Farm and there below us is the barn where Alan Bates (AKA Jesus or ‘the man’) sought refuge from the law and entranced the children from the village in that famous 1961 film, Whistle Down the Wind. Hayley Mills is the girl feeding and protecting him. I have just found out that the original novel was written in ’59 by Mary Hayley Bell, wife of John Mills and mother of the star Hayley Mills. If you get a chance to watch this black and white movie you will recognise a lot of the scenery but it is deeper than you think with strong allegorical passages as well as Lancashire humour. “he’s not Jesus, he’s just a fella”

The phrase ‘Whistle down the wind’ comes from Falconry. When falcons are released to hunt they are sent upwind and when turned loose for recreation they are sent downwind. So down the wind is to be cast off to find ones own path. There is no wind today and we have a map so perhaps there are no similarities to be drawn. We just get on with walk.

Above us is the rounded Worsaw Hill, a grassed over limestone reef knoll which today is popular with the local sheep. I went up it once for a spectacular view down the Ribble Valley, well Clitheroe Cement works at least. We pass briefly into the yard of the farm featured in the film and than are back into fields alongside the meandering Worston Brook. We spot an almost hidden ‘packhorse bridge’. The water looks so clear, having come down from Pendle. I remember fishing as a child for Crayfish in these Pennine becks. I met a woman recently who was doing some research for DEFRA on crayfish in certain locations, they are apparently a very good indication of water pollution.

We approach Worston but don’t visit it, half a dozen houses and a good rural inn, The Calf’s Head. Instead we take a direct route up the fields towards Pendle. I don’t recognise this way, but when I look at my map from the last time I have, So much for my memory. I do know I have been past Little Mearley Hall many times and point out the windows supposedly taken from Sawley Abbey after the dissolution. I warn JD about the tied up dog that will surprise us round the side of the barn, yes he is still there today but seems to have lost his bark. The farmer is busy planting new mixed hedging along the way, they have grubbed up so much in the past..

The walk now follows for a mile or so a line of farms scattered at the foot of Pendle, Angram Green, Moorside, Barkerfield and Hookcliffe, all looking ancient and steeped in Lancashire’s countryside. As always with JD the conversation is stimulating and far reaching. We are making good time without stopping as I want to delver him home to help his wife with the grandchildren after school.

Cutting across fields towards another reef knoll the guide mentions a barn at Gerna a strange name for these parts, ?Nordic. The farm itself has been gentrified.

Soon we are following the lively beck back into Downham, the cottages here having the water run under there front entrances.

That’s been a quick walk for me, just two hours for the five miles which bodes well for my rehabilitation into longer trips, of which I have a few in mind.

Here’s a few snaps to give you a flavour of the area and maybe entice you to Downham for this enjoyable walk.

Pretty Downham cottage.

Worsaw Hill.

The ‘Jesus’ barn.

Disappearing bridge over Worston Beck.

Hazy view down the Ribble Valley. Kemple End, Beacon Fell and Parlick.

JD hoping we don’t have to go all the way up Pendle.

Little Mearley Hall with the Sawley windows to the left.

A little disinterested today.

Good to see hundreds of mixed hedging plants going in.

Don’t follow your satnav, they were soon coming back.

Diversifying into paper cups.

More limestone knolls below Pendle, and Rad Brook.

Downham Beck.

Another pretty Downham cottage.

***

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BRADFORD INDUSTRIAL MUSEUM NOSTALGIA.

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For my last day in Yorkshire I had a choice of venues. I wondered about the National Coal Mining Museum nearby, but due to ‘staff training’ there were no underground tours that day and I did wonder whether the place would be overrun with school children. A lady at the Hepworth had recommended a NT property, Nostell Priory, but the house is closed in winter and the gardens were restricted. So there are two to come back to. Other considerations are Bradford’s Cartwright Hall Gallery, where one can see Lowry, Warhol, Lichtenstein and Anish Kapoor, or the ever popular Salts Mill in Saltaire. But there is one other possibility – I check its opening times and am decided.

When my children were small I used to take them on occasions to the Bradford Industrial Museum, for reasons which will become clear. I’ve not been back for getting on for forty years, time for a reappraisal and it is on my way home if I avoid the M62. I let the satnav take me there from the Campanile in Wakefield. I still am unsure of its precise location in sprawling Bradford, look it up, but I am delivered to the entrance in less than an hour.

I first took my boys there for them to see the inside of a mill with working machinery. But there was also a room dedicated to transport vehicles manufactured in Bradford. Jowett cars and motor cycles mainly but tagged on the end were a couple of cycles hand built in the city. (Between the wars and ever since there has always been a tradition of quality hand built lightweight steel racing cycles from our northern towns. You may well of heard of Ellis Brigham, Bob Jackson, Jack Taylor, Dave Yates – all sort after frames) As I will tell below I had owned a Baines bike and ridden it regularly whilst the boys were young. Imagine their surprise when there was the identical cycle in the museum. “ your bike’s in a museum Dad!” I’m not sure whether that was said with pride or shame, but they never forgot.

Here is a photo I took in the museum back in the early 80s. baines1

Going back farther in time, as a teenager, maybe 15, I was into racing cycles and time trials. There was a cycle shop in Northgate, ??Cunningham’s, and in the window was a second hand bike I coveted. A Baines ‘flying gate’ racing machine built in Bradford. For an article and photos of the Baines cycle have a read here. and here.

Priced at £20 it was out of my reach but I would still go in and look at it. Eventually I came to an understanding with the owner, a racing cyclist in the past, that he wouldn’t sell it until I had saved up the money. I don’t know how I saved out of my meagre pocket money but perhaps I was helped by my various aunts and uncles. So the day came when I marched into the shop with £20 and marched out with the precious Baines cycle.

Dragging out another old photo, sometime in the early 60s. Can’t see much of the Baines in detail, although the chromed front forks show up. Note the ‘musette’ bag strap (‘bonk’ bag) over the shoulder and the bottle with straw. That is my longtime mate Mel behind, he of the long distance walks who sadly passed away in 2020. P1040357

Here we are at the start of Hadrian’s Wall Path in 2012. Hadrians Wall Peel Crags 026

That bike was my pride throughout my teenage years, I used it to cycle to school, tour the youth hostels in the holidays and to compete, poorly, in 10 and 25 mile time trials. Most of that time it was in classic fixed wheel mode. After University and when I had settled down in Longridge in the 70s I resurrected the bike, added some Campagnola gears and started using it for cycling locally and through the Trough. At some stage I took it into Sam William’s, another ex-racer, cycle shop in Preston and arranged to have it resprayed. It came back looking brand new with chromed forks and original name transfers. The only problem was that I was informed that there was some rust in the tubing which could weaken it. That put me off using it often and I built another bike for regular use. The poor old Baines was left hung up in the garage.

That’s how it could have ended but a few years ago I had a minor declutter and advertised it on one of those well known sites. There was a lot of interest and eventually the auction ended with a substantial financial gain for me. The chap who bought it was from Bradford and a collector of Baines Cycles. He was thrilled with his purchase and intended bringing it back to life with original fittings, though not necessarily to ride. I was pleased it had gone to a good home. My youngest son, who now has more bikes than I can count, however was very disappointed I had sold it. When I send him a photo of the same bike in the museum today his immediate reply was – “I still haven’t forgiven you”

***

So back to the museum.

The museum is in the former Moorside Mill, built around 1875 as a small worsted spinning mill. Bradford Industrial Museum has permanent displays of textile machinery, steam power, engineering, printing machinery and motor vehicles etc etc. You can also visit Moorside House where the mill manager lived, and in contrast the mill-workers’ back to back terraced housing.

It is crawling with enthusiastic and noisy, young school trippers.

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The whole of the first floor is taken up with machinery from the worsted manufacturing era. Worsted was from sheep’s wool as opposed to cotton fabrics from, well, cotton. Many of the processes are similar. Blending, scouring, carding, combing, twisting, spinning, winding and finally weaving are all explained. There is machinery from the water mill era through to the steam era. Now all can be seen working by the flick of an electric switch. There are set times for switching the demonstrations on, I just follow the school groups. P1040229

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When the machinery is working, particularly the looms, the sound is deafening, imagine working in this environment. Hope the videos play.

There is quite a lot of educational material on the social environment in the weaving towns in the late C19th and early C20th. I am not sure how much the junior school children took in. P1040237 P1040238

The development of steam engines since over 200 years ago is highlighted. They were important to the weaving industries as well as the growing industrial world. The information too complicated to take in casually, but there are many working models to admire. And down in the basement an actual steam engine, recovered from Linton cotton mill when it was demolished in 1983. Victor, as it is named, is steamed up at certain times of the year and must be a spectacular show of power. P1040162 P1040163 Screenshot 2024-02-04 214247 P1040164

The transport section is just the same as I remember it and there at the end of the line past all the Jowetts is that classic cycle. P1040182 P1040180 P1040181

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The iconic Jowett Jupiter.

A black Jowett Javelin behind the Jupiter.

After a coffee in the basic café I wander outside to look at the mill owners stone house. It is furnished in the period style, early twentieth century. There is so much detail to take in, literally a view into the past. P1040244

The much humbler back to back cottages across the way, saved from demolition and again furnished in the era of the mill’s working. Some of them also show life in the 60s and 70s – lots of nostalgia there for the older visitor and amusement for the school children. P1040268

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There is so much of interest in this museum, far more than I have highlighted, particularly to industrial or social historians and those of an engineering background. We of a certain age will find abundant memories for a lost but recent part of our lives.

I am pleased I stopped off for a visit, especially for that bike. We all love nostalgia.

NATURAL YSP.

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A short post today after all those lengthy ones.

Looking through my photographs of all the sculptures I took in the Yorkshire Sculpture Park I see some interesting shapes in nature. I’ve put a few together for my amusement.

Another time I visit maybe I should just ignore the sculptures and look at the trees.

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YSP MISCELLANY III.

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***

Crossing the bridge at the end of the lower lake one couldn’t but notice the large lady strutting across the field. I have never been a fan of Damien Hirst ever since I came across his open womb pregnant Verity in Ilfracombe, whilst walking the South West Coastal Way, and this figure before me is unmistakably his. The Virgin Mother. 2005. Damien Hirst. ”We are here for a fun time, not a long time”

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And there are more in the distance but I was content with long zoom images.

Charity. 2002. Damien Hirst.

The hat makes the man. 2004. Damien Hirst.

I could have walked down the valley to the Weston Gallery but time was getting on. There is always another day and I wanted to see some sculptures this side of the lake. By now the wind was getting up and it was difficult to hold either myself or the camera steady.

Black Mound. 2013. David Nash. Oak charred in situ. Another of his that will age with time naturally.

49 Square. 2013. David Nash. Silver birch which will grow into a white square by the lake.

Oeuvre (Verdigris) 2018. Gavin Turk. A large bronze duck egg.. “I made an egg that will last forever – but now we no longer no what forever means – it depends which report you read”

Hazmat Love. 2017. Tom Friedman. Embracing, wrestling or dancing?

Mind Walk. 2022. Peter Randall-Page. A continuous line carved into Bavarian granite.

Gazing Ball. 2018. Lucy + Jorge Orta.

Notice the small heart, their reference to a close friend who died waiting for a transplant.

Diario. 2016. Mikayel Ohanjanyan. Where the steel wire cuts into the marble the names of all his friends are written.

“during our lifetime, these acquaintances shape our identity, values, and human dignity”

And now for something completely different. This is based on an Invacar, the basic three wheeler, all pale blue, issued to disabled people by the NHS for thirty years from 1948. I just about remember them. They were eventually deemed unsafe. Heaton was issued with one in 1971, he says he felt like a solitary cripple in it. Now painted gold – “from lame to Lamé”

Gold Lamé 2014. Tony Heaton.

I wander up the park through the highly polished granite shapes by Japanese sculptor Masayuki Koorida.

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Over the bridge up to the iconic Love statue.

Ha-Ha Bridge. Brian Fell.

Love. (Red Blue Green) Robert Indiana.

I was running out of time although the park closes at 5pm the galleries close at 4. Going the long way round and exploring I had misjudged it. I missed out on the Chapel’s Light Organ show and much more but I wanted to complete my Erwin Wurm tour from this morning. There were a few more in the garden but the light had gone for photography. Fortunately the majority were in the Underground Gallery where I had 20 minutes to spare – too short a time really for all his curiosities. Thankfully there was no one about to take a picture of any of my appendages poking through his caravan. All bendy vehicles, gherkins and sausages. 20240131_154017 20240131_154104 20240131_154043

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The YSP is on a grand scale and the large open spaces suit a lot of the larger statues. As I intimated there is lots more to discover. Next time I may park at the Weston Entrance and walk around from there. I did think about returning tomorrow but perhaps a change of scenery is needed and I have a couple of other options. Certainly spending the two nights in Wakefield has been a winner although I think I will give the Campanile’s pizza a miss tonight.

***

This a rough map of my anticlockwise ramblings. 5 miles measured but more like 6 or 7 actually walked.

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Looking through my photos of all things non-sculptural I have some interesting natural images which I may post as an alternative view.

YSP MISCELLANY II

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Continuing my perambulation in the park I wander down towards the lake, the lower one. Here are two large ‘architectural’ installations from Anthony Caro.

Dream City 1996 and Promenade 1996. Sir Anthony Caro.

Promenading in front of the hall.

A strange but captivating ring of twelve animal heads from the Chinese Zodiac. The artist Ai Weiwei, a Chinese dissident, wanted them to be fun “everybody has a Zodiac connection”

Circle of heads. Ai Weiwei 2010.

Looking at my map I see there is a footpath around the upper lake which looks interesting. The two lakes were originally hand dug for Bretton Hall in the C18th and are at the centre of the park, they are connected to the River Deame which flows through the park. In amongst the trees I come across scattered artworks.

123454321 Sol LeWitt 1993. Mathematical progressions present in nature.

Idit Nathan and Helen Stratford’s Further Afield. 2021. are several railway sleepers inviting you to play.

Idee de pietra – Olmo. 2008. Giuseppe Penone. The tree is bronze, the stone real.

No sculpture park is complete without Antony Gormley. One and Other. 2000.

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Ravine. Tania Kovats. 2010. Cast concrete ‘eroding’.

I particularly like this use of the old boat house. JocJonJosch. Eddy.2014. in which the three artists each have an oar, going nowhere.

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Flagstone, 2016. Willem Boshoff. Belfast granite polished back to the molten state. The lettering translates – ‘a drop of water hollows a stone, not by force, but by continuously dripping’ Ovid.

At the end pf the lake by the bridge this young man is on his phone. But what is he thinking about? Network 2013. Thomas J Price. P1030837

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I’ve never been up to the Longside Gallery on this side of the park, and despite it being closed I fancy the walk. A steep field leads me upwards with good views back over the lakes and park. Hereabouts are lots of lovely trees which has given me an idea for a separate post on nature in the park.

There is nobody about as I continue along the ridge to the Round Wood and unexpectedly come across a circular stone wall, it must be one of Andy Goldsworthy’s. P1030863

Longside Gallery. Closed.

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Outclosure. Andy Goldsworthy. 2007.

Oh, there is somebody up here, a solitary figure sat looking at the view. But as I get closer he becomes much larger. Sean Henry’s Seated Figure. 2016 plays with scale. The last photo in the series fortunately has a passing lady stood next to him for perspective.

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As I walk down the hill the boundary wall in the sunken Ha Ha suddenly develops small deep rectangular enclosures, could this be Goldsworthy again? In one a suspended tree has been captured, perhaps there were in the other two but decay may have moved in. P1030922

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Hanging Trees. 2007. Andy Goldsworthy. (YSP photo)

I can’t get to grips with the last ‘installation’ on the hill. Seventy One Steps. David Nash. 2010. And that’s just what they are, though I didn’t count them. Charred Oak sleepers embedded in coal and slowly merging into the hillside, probably just as he imagined similar to his Barnsley lump of coal on the other side of the park. P1030958 P1030953 P1030960

At the bottom are the remains of the ornate C17th Lady Eglinton’s well. P1030967 P1030965

I was glad I had done the long walk up the hill.

Time for a sit down and a spot of lunch.

YSP MISCELLANY I.

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Crossing. Nigel Hall, 2006.

The Campanile was cheap and cheerful, and was only 20 minutes away from the Yorkshire Sculpture Park in the grounds of Bretton Hall, outside Wakefield. I was parking there just after they had opened at 10am, hoping to get a full day exploring some parts of the park I had previously missed and there is always something new.

I decided to to walk the park first and go into the galleries later in the day when the weather was deteriorating. My plan didn’t quite work out.

My must see today is Trap of the Truth – over a hundred works from the quirky Austrian Erwin Wurm. I’ve tried to share a video of Wurm talking to Clare Lilley, Director of the park, but technology has defeated me. However if you click on the link below and go well down the page to their 15 minute interview you will be impressed.

https://ysp.org.uk/whats-on/exhibitions/erwin-wurm

What a nice bloke and how innovative. Here are some of his outside sculptures. Make of them what you want, there are a lot of hidden meanings relating to fashion and consumerism. P1030423 P1030430 P1030442

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Leaving Wurm for now I wander off into the park where round every corner one comes across some new curiosity and probably miss just as many, That is why repeated trips here always pays dividends.

Family of Man. Barbara Hepworth. 1970,

Hydra vs Bear. A fantasy, Jordy Kerwick. 2023.

Protomartyr. Elizabeth Frink. 1984. A bonze St. Stephen.

Barnsley Lump. David Nash. 1981. A lump of coal slowly disintegrating.

Whilst walking through the wheelchair accessible garden I meet one of the staff, Mick, a retired miner/mental health nurse/ Yorkshireman/grandfather and more. He was passionate about the sculpture park and works a few days a week as a general helper. Time well spent chatting to him.

Mick.

Buddha. Niki de Saint Phalle. 2000. Glistening mosaics.

Octopus. Marialuisa Tadei. 2011. More mosaics.

Sitting. Sophie Rider. 2007. The Mother hare.

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Bag of Aspirations. Kalliopi Lemos. 2013. Outside the Camelia House. “human lives are valued less than their possessions”

Usagi Kannon II. Leiko Ikemura. 2013. Fukushima nuclear disaster,

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A Needle Woman. Kimsooja. 2014. A needle weaving our lives.

Most obtuse quotation/interpretation so far –

“Overall my work can be summarised as an attempt to translate the longstanding historical and political ambitions of traditional figurative sculpture into a revised sculptural language appropriate to the current cultural situation. The aim of my work is to question certainties and stereotypes, introducing a variety of fact and fiction into sculpture that is descriptive but not representative of the ‘real’ world.” Kenny Hunter. Bonfire 2009.

And the most apt –

“it would be very nice to put sculpture on hillsides or in small valleys, or place them where you think it would be nice for them to be and for everybody to enjoy” Barbara Hepworth.

Time for a coffee up at the café. Come back soon.

THE HEPWORTH.

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My passport is stamped and I’m heading over the Pennines into deepest Yorkshire. To be honest I hate the journey on the M62, particularly the ‘safe motorway’ sections. Getting around Manchester I witness some crazy driving, weaving between lanes at high speed and undertaking even using the hard shoulder. And that is after I had delayed my departure to avoid the rush hour. Around Leeds more chaos ensued. I was heading to Wakefield, home of the Hepworth Gallery.

Since 1923 the Municipal Art Gallery in Wakefield has had a high reputation for their collections and support for local artists. But it was time to expand and modernise and in 2011 the new gallery, in Brutalist style. was opened on the banks of The Calder in the city centre. Its aim was to continue to be a leading gallery with contemporary additions and also to house a large permanent collection of Barbara Hepworth’s work, helped by a family donation of her historical output.

Barbara Hepworth was born in Wakefield and went onto become one of our most famous and respected modernistic sculptors. Coincidentally Henry Moore came from nearby Castleford and they were both helped in their early careers by the Wakefield gallery.

I watch the queue of elderly all trying to fathom the complicated instructions of the carpark ticked machine. I am content to sit in the car and enjoy a leisurely flask of coffee after my hectic journey here. Time to slow down before trying my own elderly luck with the machine. The last time I was here was two years ago. A lot of water has flown under the bridge since then, quite literally judging from the volume cascading down the flooded Calder dramatically surrounding the gallery. I’m pleased it is a bright sunny day as much of the light in the galleries comes from the largo windows, and as a bonus they are being cleaned. P1030349 P1030136

I am a little disappointed to see this sign on the entrance… P1030134

…needless to say I didn’t.

What’s on? Well apart from all the Barbara Hepworth collection there is a major exhibition of Kim Lim’s work, a collection of new acquisitions, the first solo exhibition of Andrew Cranston, a sound installation by Shenece Oretha and much more. Here is a sample pf the best.

On the stairs to the first floor galleries are four panels relating to the repression of women the world over but particularly in Iran. Women, Life, Freedom. In Sept2022 a young lady in Iran was detained for the incorrect wearing of the Hijab, her death in captivity sparked massed protests in Iran. The posters have been designed by four Iranian women , tellingly living outside their country. A good start to the day, art is never far from politics. P1030369

The galleries are in a circular arrangement from your arrival on the first floor. Its up to you which way round to go. Today I chose anti-clockwise, I think I always do.

The first room housed the newly acquired – A Living Collection. varied styles and mediums. The gallery is trying to give a better representation of female artists and those of a diverse ethnic backgrounds. A party of secondary school children up from Chesterfield were busy at work creating their own interpretations. Some were very good. The master in charge was effortlessly sketching his pupils scattered around the rooms. All very jolly and making the gallery come to life. In amongst them were a Hepworth and a Moore to remind one of the true history of the place. P1030148 P1030152 P1030168

My own favourites were a bright energetic painting by a young Jade Fadojutimi, Ob-Sess-Ion, and a thoughtful print from Jimmy Robert, Frammenti VII, not many Greek Statue subjects were coloured.

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Mother and Child. Barbara Hepworth, 1934

The adjoining rooms shows a diverse selection of works from Scotsman Andrew Cranston, What made you stop here? From large scale paintings to small intimate oil and varnish on hardback book covers. The large Echoes, bleach and dye on canvas, had me entranced as did a few of the smaller ones, Granny and the more challenging The Sweet and the Weird, he has a fascination with fish. That is reflected in his larger fish picture which has a humorous tale behind it, which I will leave for you to discover.. P1030276

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P1030177 This video tells you more about him and is worth watching.

I then suddenly find myself in the Kim Lim’s Space, Rhythm and Light.

Her career is covered from when she arrived in England in 1954. Prints and sculptures from that time until her death in 1997. Innovative from the start she was prepared to experiment with different materials and travelled widely for inspiration. For the last 20 years of her life she carved solely in stone.

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Time for a coffee in the excellent restaurant. P1030274

A room full of Hepworth, Moore and ethnic statues is given over to Shenece Oretha’s experiments with sound. In her residency here she spent time tapping and touching the different sculptures and recording with high sensitivity microphones. The results are hypnotic and enhance ones experience of the exhibits. I am entranced and try to guess which sound matches which statue. Have a listen. P1030284

The next gallery highlights Barbara Hepworths works, many of them prototypes for larger projects. The surealism was added to by the window cleaner. P1030309

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There is a reconstruction of her studio and more examples of her plaster carving and bronze casting techniques. P1030327 P1030330 A room given over to The Art of the Potter highlights ceramics from the Wakefield’s collections over the years. P1030333

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The last room is given over to all things Yorkshire with more Hepworth and Moore sculptures and including a painting by a Philip Reinagle, 1793, of the old Wakefield Bridge and Chantry Chapel. The chapel was built in the C14th and is one of only four surving in the England. P1030361 Looking across from the gallery window that bridge, now closed to traffic, is visible with the chapel prominent. P1030401 Time for a walk out in the sunsgine to take a closer look and bring the picture to life. P1030397 P1030383 P1030386 P1030389 P1030394

Now to head to my cheap hotel, the Campanile on a nearby industrial estate, for a good night’s rest before the YSP tomorrow. I can’t face the M62 twice in one day.

THE FINAL STANZA?

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It never used to be so busy at the Cow and Calf Rocks’ carpark A bright Saturday has brought crowds up here above an equally busy Ilkley. We are here to find the last of Simon Armitage and Pipa Hall’s Stanza Stone Poems, Beck, hidden in Backstone Beck where the latter comes down at speed towards the town. I have downloaded some ‘simple’ directions but am afraid I may get distracted by the nearby climbing crags.

Ilkley Quarry, the Cow and Calf and the Rocky Valley were favourite haunts of my early climbing days. There was plenty of traditional excitement to be had on the rounded gritstone. But no let’s find the poetry stone first.

‘Take the path out of the car park’ was an obvious start, we could manage that. The paths are more well used than I remember them, were they even here back then? But there are lots of them going off in all directions. And there are people in all directions too. Some coming up from Ilkley by way of the tarn, most like us wandering from the Cow and Calf and others from over the moor. Dogs, in all shapes and sizes, are everywhere, which gives Zola plenty of canine interactions, Clare is on hand to call her in when things are starting to get out of hand. I am amazed that she can bound off into the distance (Zola, not Clare), in a place she has never set foot in, and keep reappearing at our heels. The bracken is dead which helps us find the narrower paths. All the time we have a panoramic view of Ilkley down below in the Aire valley. P1020983 P1020984

‘Head towards a plantation’ was the next instruction, yes, but which one? A solitary Stanza Poem fingerpost then takes some of the adventure away. The sound of the beck meant we were close. ‘Scramble up alongside the beck’ was our instruction – but steps have been provided recently. ‘Squeeze through between a gorse bush and a boulder’ the guide says. But someone has cut the gorse bush back. Is this all down to the YouTube/Instagram/what three words phenomena creating honey pots in our wild countryside? I’m beginning to feel a little cheated, this was to be the climax of our poetry trail with the most difficult stone to find. Zola obviously finds it for us, but then in the end we have it completely to ourselves. P1020990 P1020995 P1020996

False trail

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Is this what you are looking for?

What a spot, a wild tumbling beck with the brown bracken clinging to the hillside. Water is splashing around the rocks and there in the centre of it all is the Stanza Stone. A proud boulder sitting in the flow as was Pipa Hall when she carved out the letters. We ask ourselves how did they find this elysian place? P1030027

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It is all one chase.
Trace it back the source
might be nothing more than a teardrop
squeezed from a Curlew’s eye,
then follow it down to the full-throated roar
at its mouth – a dipper strolls the river
dressed for dinner in a white bib.
The unbroken thread of the beck
with its nose for the sea
all flux and flex, soft-soaping a pebble
for thousands of years, or here
after hard rain, sawing the hillside in half
with its chain. Or here, where water unbinds
and hangs at the waterfall’s face, and
just for that one, stretched white moment
becomes lace.
©Simon Armitage 2010

A bit of precarious scrambling had us up close to the poem which is slowly taking on the patina of all the other water splashed rocks. What will it be like in another ten, twenty or fifty years? all a very short period of time for the stones up here on the moor. The references to the curlew and the dipper are perfect for the situation. If you have read any of Simon Armitage’s poems you will recognise his acute observation, engagement and ability to weave his words. If you haven’t, a good start would be an anthology of his writings – Paper Aeroplane, 1989 – 2014. The title poem at the very end is one of my favourites, a self-effacing offering worlds apart from Tennyson, Simon is no stuffy Poet Laureate.

Where next? Well I had suggested we explore the wild moor looking for those thousand years old markings in the rocks up here. Cup and ring marks and geometric carvings. I won’t bore you with our subsequent wanderings. Zola probably derived the most benefit from the open moorland obstacle course. Did we find any? I can’t say for certain, lets just leave it there. I don’t know who C Clark and Crackety Jack are. P1030074 P1030048 P1030051 P1030053 P1030062 P1030111 P1030094 P1030100 P1030120

Our only trophy was stumbling across a ‘poetry seat’ constructed in line with the poems. The sign said Marsden 451/4 miles, where we had started with Snow up in the quarries at Pule Hill in October. We have not walked the whole trail but picked off the stones on the way – Rain, Mist, Dew, Puddle and now Beck. Whichever way you approach it this gives a wonderful feeling for the Pennine scenery, the vagrancies of its weather and the talent and inspiration of the poetry team.

Going with the flow Clare posts a poem into the letter box. I wonder when it will next emerge. P1030088 P1030087 P1030083 P1030080

On our way back to the car I indulge in some reminiscing of those carefree climbing days long ago. P1030103 P1030109 P1030123

There was no congratulatory drink in the nearby Cow and Calf Inn, a quick toilet stop and I was happy to be on my way home before all those high intensity car headlights had chance to confuse me. How the mighty have fallen.

***

There is however a post script. Our journey is not yet done.

The final Stanza? Armitage and Hall spoke about a seventh, hidden Stanza Stone. Although they disputed its size, both agreed it was fairly small and had been placed within either a “wooden casket” or “hollowed-out log”. Armitage added: “We took it to a place above Hebden Bridge, where the Ted Hughes poem ‘Six Young Men’ is set, and placed it under the riverbank there.” Shortly afterwards the valley was flooded, “so we’ve no idea where it is now. It’s either in the Atlantic, or in the North Sea – or lying in someone’s cellar in Todmorden”.

Let me know if you come across it.

***

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SEA SWALLOWS AND SHIPWRECKS.

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This may take some time to write up and to read. I completed the short cycle ride on a frosty January 18th. 2024.

How many times have I cycled down the seafront from Fleetwood to Blackpool? How many times have I later flown past, with the wind behind me, the several pieces of artwork without realising their significance? The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind. A song still appropriate to the present troubles of our world and my wanderings.

Grab a coffee, relax, listen and read on.

I aim to put that right today. I have done a little research on the Cleveleys website. Over recent years the sea defence improvements at Rossall and Cleveleys have provided a wonderful promenade, a leisure amenity alongside the coast popular with walkers and cyclists. At the same time funding was secured by Wyre Council through Sea Change, a national fund designed to regenerate the coast through the Arts.

This gave rise to Cleveleys Mythic Coastline art work following the story of The Sea Swallow A children’s fairytale, written by Gareth Thompson and illustrated by Hannah McGee, it blends legends with local features. Each primary school child in Wyre was given a copy of the book in 2011. (I need to find out if any copies are still available – just this minute ordered ordered one from ABE Books.) The book tells of the epic story of land versus sea and uses old fables from this stretch of the Fylde coast with the sea swallows protecting it. A tale of an Ogre stirring up the sea with his giant paddle, threatening the waterfront community, only to be thwarted by the story’s heroine, Mary and her golden shell. Mary is granted the ability to journey to the seabed for an encounter with the sea-ogre, who covets the shell and threatens her village with inundation. I need to read the book to find out the hopefully favourable outcome. The story and pictures from the book have been the basis for the public artwork subsequently installed along the seafront.

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To set the scene: I unload my bike as usual near the delightful ‘Welcome Home’ statue on the front at Fleetwood and pedal off in the freezing temperatures, my hands rapidly becoming numb. There are patches of ice along the promenade and the beach is frozen solid. The tide is farther out than I’ve seen it before and one can imagine the difficulties of navigating into the mouth of the Wyre and Fleetwood’s docks. Out to sea the Isle of Man ferry is heading to Heysham whilst a couple of freighters are leaving, with the back drop of Barrow, Black Coombe and the snowy Lakeland hills. P1020491

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Once past the toppling coast watchers and round Rossall Point I’m onto the new tiered promenades of Rossall’s sea defences with concrete walls showing wavy themes in relief. P1020521 P1020547 P1020543

Along here are three art installations I’ve not bothered to examine before. Each one consists of three slender arching columns, grass-like, decorated with a floral theme. Ragwort, Sea Holly and Sea Spurrey and their animal dependents, Cinnabar Moth, Red Tailed Buff Bee and Common Toad respectively. I can find little information on them, but obviously, they reflect coastal species. They are sited at access points to the beach for maximum impact; perhaps they are marker posts between here and Cleveleys. P1020529

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It was along here that Sea Swallows started appearing in the back wall and, at the end an impressive larger relief featuring Mary. P1020575 P1020581 P1020578 I now realise there was another Mary ‘panel’ at the start of the wall farther back – it gives me an excuse to have another leisurely exploration.

The main installations of the Mythic Coast are from the storybook – The Shell, The Ogre, The Ogre’s Paddle and The Sea Swallow, and the nearby Shipwreck Memorial. They have all been put together by artists and designers from Broadbent Studio.

First up was Mary’s Shell, a large piece of spiralling metal in a shell shape on the Cleveley beach below the café. Looking through it at low tide is the sea; at high tide, it becomes completely submerged. The complex Conch shell was made from stainless steel in Ulverston, with a blast finish and weighs in at 17 tons. Today, the tide was out, and I could have, should have, gone down the steps to come up close, but with the bike in tow, I was content to view from the promenade.

The Ogre is easily missed alongside the boulder groyne just south of the Shell. It is in fact a boulder carved to represent the crouching giant. He was hand carved from a single fifteen ton block of limestone by the stonemason Adrian Wright and fittingly submerged for a lot of the time. Today, I was lucky, and he was plain for all to see. Again, I should have gone down onto the beach for a closer look, but as I said a good excuse to return.

Can you spot him?

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The Ogre’s Paddle is on the higher promenade, unceremoniously in front of the cinemas and gym. The paddle was constructed in purple heart wood from South America, carved with decorations and text from the story by the woodcarver John Merrill.

“the Sea Ogre’s paddle drifted up to lie on the muddy sand like some strange offering” P1020625 P1020633 P1020628 P1020635

The Sea Swallow monument is right in the middle of the promenade. A 10m tall sculpture, its shape inspired by the feel of a book coming to life and the swallows flying out of it.. The swallows are the town’s protectors, and I now realise are representative of Sea Terns. Just look at that blue sky.

“This feature acts as a visual beacon to draw people from the town centre to the seafront” . The granite was supplied by Hardscape, and the aluminium structure fabricated and installed by Chris Brammall Ltd. of Cumbria. P1020657 P1020653 P1020680

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‘For at night they stand together on the sea wall, as if protecting the town with their great white wings.’

Illustrations from the book have been carved and blasted into the granite base of the sculpture. “maybe somewhere along the coast, the shell waits for someone to find it again”

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You may have noticed everything is curvy (wavy) on Cleveleys promenade, often practically to soften the force of the waves but more of an ongoing architectural statement. I think it works quite well. P1020713

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The last piece, the Shipwreck Memorial, stands proudly on the Cleveleys Promenade. A huge piece of iron, 15mm thick, laser cut with the names of lost vessels. It stands 4.5m tall against the sky, supported by two huge solid pieces of timber. The metalwork is slowly rusting, as would have the sunken ships.

It acts as a memorial to all known ships lost along the Fylde since 1643. It is positioned on the promenade at Cleveleys, adjacent to the site of the most recently lost ship – The Riverdance, which ran aground in 2008 and became a tourist attraction as it slowly lost its cargo and was subsequently dismantled. In the same area the wooden ribs of The Abana, sunk in 1894, still show up at low tide. Apparently, they can be seen through the disc in the memorial, I should have looked more carefully.

On the wooden supports are a couple of panels listing all the ships with more information about their wrecking. A sobering list, a huge graveyard of over 200, The first listed as Unidentified, wrecked near Fleetwood in 1643 having run aground after being set on fire by Loyalists in the Civil War. In more modern times, the Trawler industry suffered disproportionately. A full list of wrecks has been transcribed onto a page on the Cleveleys website.

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A final installation – Coloured Sea Swallows, cast in resin, was planned to sit along the seawall on the Cleveleys promenade. They have been temporarily removed following the unfortunate theft of several of them, and are awaiting re-siting.

Historical picture.

The Shipwreck Memorial stands on the border between Wyre (Cleveleys) and Blackpool. I’ve gone as far as I want today; it’s time to head back.

But first I stop to watch some activity on the beach. They are building more stone groynes to prevent potentially dangerous deep-side channels from developing across the beach. Blocks of stone, Granite from Shap and Limestone from Carnforth, have been ‘dumped’ on the beach. Concrete ramps to allow access along the beach have been built, and they are now starting to carefully place the boulders at right angles to the prom, forming the groynes. Each block weighs between 3 and 8 tons; anything lighter would get washed away in storms.

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Needless to say, I haven’t seen any Sea Swallows but a cheeky Starling joined me for some lunch. P1020722

Thanks for sticking with me. Maybe listen to Bob again.

***

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