Tag Archives: Art and architecture.

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 In places the stiles have been replaced by those utilitarian galvanised kissing gates.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. P1040511P1040514P1040517P1040519P1040522

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. P1040526P1040528P1040530P1040529

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. P1040536P1040537P1040543P1040541

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.
P1040548P1040550From 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.P1040551P1040553Soon 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 213325Screenshot 2024-02-24 213447Here 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.

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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. P1040381P1040382

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.P1040390P1040386P1040393P1040398

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.P1040403P1040404P1040406P1040407P1040411P1040415

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.P1040426P1040428

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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. P1040438P1040440P1040443P1040445

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.

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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.

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Pretty Downham cottage.

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Worsaw Hill.

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The ‘Jesus’ barn.

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Disappearing bridge over Worston Beck. 

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

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

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Little Mearley Hall with the Sawley windows to the left. 

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A little disinterested today. 

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Good to see hundreds of mixed hedging plants going in. 

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

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Diversifying into paper cups.

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More limestone knolls below Pendle, and Rad Brook.

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Downham Beck. 

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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

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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.P1040237P1040238

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. P1040162P1040163Screenshot 2024-02-04 214247P1040164

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. P1040182P1040180P1040181

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The iconic Jowett Jupiter.

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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.

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Charity. 2002.  Damien Hirst.

 

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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. 

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

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

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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” 

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

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

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Gazing Ball. 2018. Lucy + Jorge Orta.

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

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

 

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“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”

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Gold Lamé 2014. Tony Heaton.

I wander up the park through the highly polished granite shapes by Japanese sculptor Masayuki Koorida.  P1040113

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Over the bridge up to the iconic Love statue.

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Ha-Ha Bridge. Brian Fell.

 

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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_15401720240131_15410420240131_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.

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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. 

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Dream City 1996 and Promenade 1996. Sir Anthony Caro.

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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”

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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.

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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.

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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

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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. P1030958P1030953P1030960

At the bottom are the remains of the ornate C17th Lady Eglinton’s well. P1030967P1030965

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. P1030423P1030430P1030442

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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.

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Family of Man.  Barbara Hepworth. 1970,

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

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

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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.

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Mick. 

 

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

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Octopus. Marialuisa Tadei. 2011. More mosaics.

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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”

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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.

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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. P1030522

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. P1030349P1030136

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.P1030148P1030152P1030168

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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P1030177This video tells you more about him and is worth watching. 


I then suddenly find myself in the Kim Lim’s Space, Rhythm and Light. P1030209P1030207

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. P1030327P1030330A 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.P1030361Looking across from the gallery window that bridge, now closed to traffic, is visible with the chapel prominent. P1030401Time for a walk out in the sunsgine to take a closer look and bring the picture to life.P1030397P1030383P1030386P1030389P1030394

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. P1020983P1020984

‘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. P1020990P1020995P1020996

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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.P1030074P1030048P1030051P1030053P1030062P1030111P1030094P1030100P1030120

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.P1030088P1030087P1030083P1030080

On our way back to the car I indulge in some reminiscing of those carefree climbing days long ago. P1030103P1030109P1030123

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.

***

Screenshot 2024-01-25 163951

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. 

***

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. P1020521P1020547P1020543

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. P1020575P1020581P1020578 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.

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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. 

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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”P1020625P1020633P1020628P1020635

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.P1020657P1020653P1020680

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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.

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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.

***

Screenshot 2024-01-22 201906

 
 
 

 

A CHILLY CHIPPING.

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This is not the day I had intended. The weather, is it really only the English who are obsessed about the weather? has at last changed from that dreadful rain to frost and sun for the next few days. I was ready for it. Spent time yesterday replacing a punctured inner tube with a brand new one. Cycling gear donned this morning – Glasson here I come. Not so fast laddie, the tyre has deflated overnight. I hadn’t the will to start again with the wheel, it is always the awkward back one. The bike is unceremoniously dumped back in to the garage for another time and I head in for an extra coffee.

Surely I can’t waste another day, I have missed too many this holiday season either from the persistent gloom affecting the weather and my mood.

My usual short winter walk from Chipping is on the lanes circling Leagram Hall. I love the approach up the drive with the prominent oaks, alas some have gone missing in the last few years’ storms. The snowdrops will soon be making an appearance in that copse over the wall. This land was once a Royal deer park in Medieval times. Names on the map, Laund Farm, Park Gate and Pale Farm, bear reference to its origins and there is an interpretation board telling me all. The background is Longridge Fell and Pendle. Now sheep are the main source of meat. P1020223P1020224P1020231

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The lane is quite slippy in parts where the overnight frost persists, the air temperature is just above zero but as there is no wind feels pleasant enough. More than pleasant really with the sun shining, a perfect Winter’s afternoon for walking. And the good citizens of Chipping are making the most of it – a steady stream of friendly walkers encountered all the way around. 

I’m heading towards the hills, Parlick, Fairsnape and Wolf Fell, but then skirt round the base of them before dropping down to the site of Wolfen Mill. This was a water powered mill built in the 16th Century. Historically the mill made spindles and bobbins for the local spinning mills, closing production in the 1920’s. All changed now with luxury holiday accommodation.  P1020239P1020243P1020245P1020240

I walk down the lane above the tumbling Chipping Brook, which powered Wolfen Mill and several more down its course through the village. Kirk Mill, originally cotton spinning, being the largest My very last picture shows a waterwheel which was restored several years ago at a property in the centre of the village. P1020246P1020248

I take a signed but rather enclosed footpath on the outskirts of the village which brings me down a lane of houses, Broad Meadow. Friends lived here in the late C20th years, both deceased now, a trip down memory lane. A lot of the old properties from the C17th in Chipping are listed and the quaint streets and pubs are popular with visitors. I’ve written about them many times before. Slowly newer housing is encircling the village but the heart remains the same.  P1020254P1020258P1020260P1020261P1020268

A simple stroll on good surfaces with plenty of interest which I highly recommend to local readers. Ideal for families. 

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BLOGLIFE. PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE.

I have enjoyed the year reading all of your adventures. The Lakes, Silverdale, Rivington, Ribble Valley, the Thames Valley, Cheshire, even Manchester, the US of A, Coastal ways, Northumberland. I hold them all dear.

Castles, boutique hotels, camping pods and caravans, village inns, tents in  remote places, wild water swimming.  You have planned your explorations carefully.

Books to read, towns to visit, art to find, food to relish, music for my ears.

Nature in abundance, history documented, environmental comments and political asides.

I’ve enjoyed them all. Thank you.  Sorry mine have been limited in response.

What’s next on the horizon?  I look forward to your posts appearing in my inbox. Ignore  the endless boring and predictable YouTube contents, the obvious uncomfortable selfies and forgettable Facebook pages. No I rely on your intellectual input to keep me sane, grounded and stimulated.  ‘Anonymous’ yet a real group of people sharing their thoughts, interests, desires  and  images. WordPress or Blogger are your platform. You know who you are. Thank you.

Here’s to an illuminating 2024.

FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS.

20231213_123002
I have been visiting Morecambe on my ‘off road’ cycle rides for some time now, there is a good network of cycle paths in the Lancaster area. And that is where I am, the only choice – clockwise or anticlockwise? A tossed coin determines my day, simple enough.
Lethargy sets in from the word go – I’ve not been on my bike since that unfortunate episode back at the end of August. It took two months to get my car repaired. My bike has sat in the garage for three months, I gave the front wheel some more air but think the back is OK. I capitulate early on and walk up the ramp to the canal aqueduct. Even on the flat I am struggling to keep up a decent pace and I am very wary of the narrower sections of the towpath under bridges. The water looks very cold. I realise my back wheel is taking the bumps badly, yes it is underinflated. I press on even though I know I should maybe give it some assistance with the hand pump. I’m too lazy to bother. Anyhow the sun is shining and there are few people about, let’s just get on with it. Where have all the ducks gone?
Soon I am on the famous promenade stretching ahead of me for four or five miles. The tide is in and the water lapping up to the sea defences. With the sun shining the cluster of boats, usually seen floundering in the mud, give the impression of a Mediterranean bay. 20231213_121415

As I near the Midland I can here a bell chiming, I instantly know where it is coming from – the Time and Tide Bell on the Stone Jetty. One of several around the coast of Britain. I have documented this bell before and photographed it at different states of the tide, but this is the first time I have heard its ghostly sounds. Makes me think of shipwrecks and sea sirens from the deep. I get up close and feel the vibrations, I try a video just for the sound but of course the wind noise always intrudes. That is why on the telly the reporters have those big fuzzy mikes dangled in front of them.

A couple of ladies walk by. “It must be 12 o’clock the bell is chiming”  “No I think you will find it keeps on chiming” says the other.
I must make the effort one day and dine in the Art Nouveau Rotunda of the Midland. Today I just cycle by and eat a banana on a promenade bench. The sea is perfectly calm.

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I’m always a little wary of a short section of the cycle path past the station and down a dingy alley. I have had a near miss assault there in the past by dodgy characters. Today it is blocked by council workers clearing the ditches and they tell me there is no way through. They agree about the potential danger and explain there are no cameras on that section, a situation easily solved with little cash funding. Anyhow I follow their suggested diversion, which with the aid of my phone’s maps, brings me back onto the cycleway past their work and more importantly past the dodgy section. Thanks for that, I will keep using it in future.
My progress becomes laboured as I pedal the old railway back into Lancaster, over the rattly Millennium Bridge and on alongside the Lune to Halton. 20231213_132515

 My arrival at the car park coincides with the Lancaster University’s rowing club’s Christmas festivities. I hope they all survived their river escapades, I am sure health and safety will keep an eye on the students more than in my day.

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I should have pumped my tyre up way back when. Stubbornness or laziness? More likely stupidity. I was knackered at the end – I thought the bell was tolling for me.

SCULPTURES DOWN THE EDEN.

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 Eden Benchmarks are a series of ten contemporary stone sculptures located at intervals along the length of the river Eden between its source above the Mallerstang valley and Rockliffe, north of Carlisle, where it runs into the Solway Firth.
 “Each sculptor worked in residence for six weeks and this enabled them to formulate their ideas by familiarising themselves with the locations and talking with local people, including schools, who were encouraged to visit their workshops to see the sculptures taking shape. The artists’ brief allowed as much creative freedom as possible to produce site-specific sculpture, which harmonises with the landscape and captures the essence of each unique locality.
 Collectively the sculptures give visual expression to our awareness of the river’s ecology and the need to look after it; individually they foster a profound sense of place, their capacity as seats accommodating an interactive focus for quiet reflection.”

These sculptures were funded and commissioned by the East Cumbria Countryside Project group in 1996. It disbanded in 2008 when funding dried up, but the sculptures are still there even if not officially cared for.

I have already discovered the first two in the last couple of days, ‘WATER CUT’ in Mallerstang and ‘PASSAGE’ in Stenkrith Park, Kirkby Stephen. Today I intended to visit as many of the remaining eight before I ran out of daylight. It would mean more driving than walking, I had plotted a route down the Eden between all the village sites. The satnav on my new phone proved invaluable.

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I’d enjoyed my two nights at the Black Bull in Nateby and they sent me off with a hearty breakfast, I didn’t eat again until I was back home in the evening. I stopped briefly in Kirby Stephen to take that photo of Lady Anne Clifford’s statue which I used yesterday. I noticed this seat with its friendly notice, I didn’t have time for chatting but what a good idea. As the benchmarks have all been sculptured to provide a seat to sit and contemplate this was a good start to the day.P1010658

A mad dash up the scary A66 and I was taking the road into Appleby. A little side lane, Bongate, lead down to an old ford over the Eden by a derelict mill and a small carpark. At the edge of the carpark was a rough looking boulder – could this be the benchmark? It was only when I walked around the other side of it that I could see fully the carved flower. I brushed the leaves aside and sat in it for awhile watching the river flow by. Stunning.

‘THE PRIMROSE STONE’ by Joss Smith at Bongate near Appleby.

Shaped from a nine ton block of St Bees Sandstone, the Primrose Stone magnifies the ‘inscape’ of the much loved first rose of spring. As you approach the sculpture from behind it looks like a rough erratic boulder and the carved petals of the flower at the front come as a surprise. It envelops the sitter in a bowl shape that is positively seductive and, like a primeval satellite dish, amplifies the sights, sounds and smells of the river”.

 Joss Smith lives in London. His work is mainly studio based and traditionally figurative but has recently been making accessible sculptures for public places.

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*

 I needed more time to explore Appleby but I was soon on the way farther north. I found a bit of roadside parking by the cricket pitch on the outskirts of Temple Sowerby and strode across muddy fields towards the river. You can see the state of the ground after all the heavy rain. The sculpture came as a surprise with the spheres scattered over the surface ripples. There was a distinct feeling of motion as the spheres ran into the river. I loved the ripple effects she had created around each grain.

‘Red River’ by Victoria Brailsford at Temple Sowerby.

“The stepped slabs of Lazonby Sandstone in this sculpture represent the contours of the landscape and its light, shade, pattern, shape and form. The spheres, reminiscent of gigantic pebbles in a fast moving stream, are a powerful evocation of the river and its energy but also, like hugely enlarged grains of sand, recall the origins of sandstone in the shifting sand dunes of Triassic Cumbria”

 Victoria Brailsford’s  work relates to ecological issues and ranges from charcoal drawings to wood carving and large stone sculptures. P1010107P1010110P1010117P1010116P1010140P1010120

*

 Back across the boggy fields and reset the satnav for Edenhall, a tiny red sandstone hamlet across the river from Langwathby. I park in a small pull off and ask the couple on the adjoining garden if I’m OK there. They don’t see many strangers in the village and I explain my mission. They are proud of their nearby Benchmark and regale me with their favourites, they haven’t made it to the Water Cut in Mallerstang as yet. I leave them to their pond maintenance and walk down the lane towards the squat red sandstone C12th church. I turn off at the wheel headed cross, the base looks ancient but the shaft as is often the case much more modern, There used to be a manor house down here which explains the churches isolated position surrounded by parkland. It also explains the name of the river bank walk I was about to set of along – The Ladies Walk. Built for the manor house occupants, a level path above the river with old iron railings and stone seats at intervals, fit for a lady. Not sure how far along I would have to go, met a bloke walking the other way but he knew nothing of Benchmarks. Up some steps and there is the sculpture. Two curved pieces of red sandstone in juxtaposition. They have graceful curving lines and wonderfully detailed surface rippling. The low lying one is being gradually covered by green moss and for a moment I think of cleaning it to reveal the detail, but I stop myself in time. These sculptures were specifically envisaged to reflect the landscape and now I feel they are slowly becoming part of it. That is probably hidden praise for the sculptor’s skill in the first place. I was warned that the ongoing path was flooded so I turned tail  and followed the  ladies alongside the ever enlarging river.

‘South Rising’ by Vivien Mousdell on Ladies Walk at Edenhall.

“Made from Lazonby Sandstone, ‘South Rising’ pays tribute to a vigorous ecosystem, representing the river’s perpetual journey and the annually recurring movements of migrating fish and birds. The horizontal stone alludes to the river itself, flowing north, and the tall vertical stone, with perhaps a passing resemblance to Long Meg, inclines south toward the rivers distant source. Chiselled with a surface texture reminiscent of water reflected sunlight, both stones have been carved in sweeping curves like the surrounding landscape, creating a rhythmic energy passing from one to the other”

 Vivien Mousdell trained in ceramics but switched to wood and stone carving and letter cutting. A skilled and versatile artist she has specialised in public commissions such as the stone boundary markers on the Cleveland Way and a variety of wood carvings on the Whitehaven to Ennerdale cycle path. She is also a puppet maker and performer and video artist. Some people are just so talented.

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 *

 Straight up little lanes in picturesque scenery, through Great Salkeld, I need to visit Long Meg and her Daughters on the other side of the river some day. Down there by the river are Lacy’s caves, chambers carved into the soft sandstone, which I distinctly remember from my Eden Way walk all those years ago. There was also an excellent climbing crag which is unfortunately now banned. Public footpaths and access are at a premium along this stretch which is a disgrace. The Settle-Carlisle line comes through the middle of Lazonby, I duck under it and head for the riverside picnic area. The Eden is in full flow. In rather drab surroundings the next benchmark lies low in the grass, can you spot it? P1010747P1010724

This one really is becoming organic. Moss is taking over and obscuring most of the stones’  cyphers. I see the sun or is it moon at one end and that’s about it. I do like the view up to the graceful bridge though.

‘Cypher Piece’ by Frances Pelly at Lazonby.

“The sculptor presents us with a series of puzzles to be decoded. The combined stones mimic the river landscape and contain various references to human history. A sun and moon have been carved at one end of the sculpture representing the winter solstice and a variety of images are portrayed elsewhere, including a fish, a Roman 1996, a Celtic horses head’ a rams horn and decorations taken from a Norse tomb”

 Frances Pelly lives in Orkney. As well as carving stone she also works in bronze.  P1010738P1010732P1010733P1010740

 *

 Where next? A short drive along the valley to another delightful village, Armathwaite. This a spot I know well having climbed on the riverside crags many happy times. I parked at the bridge and walked through the grounds of the Fox and Pheasant and up into Coombe Woods on a carpet of leaves until quite high above the river and the crags. The path leveled out and there was the carved block in a ring of smaller stones. I could easily pick out the intricate carvings of discarded clothing from the bloke who has gone for a swim. What an imagination, the sculptor’s not mine. I found a lower way back closer to the roaring river. A magic stretch of water.

‘Vista’ by Graeme Mitcheson in Coombs Wood near Armathwaite.

“A solitary walker reaches a plateau in Coombs Wood where beneath him, between the trees, he can see the winding river Eden. Nine stones form an ellipse in clearing. It is a hot day and he removes his clothes and goes for a swim. This sculpture is about walking in the countryside and being at one with nature. The largest of the stones is carved with representations of various items of clothing and a map, which also functions as a sundial. A tiny face depicted on the cap is reference to a series of faces carved on the cliffs below in 1885 by William Mounsey who famously walked the length of the Eden”

 Graeme Mitcheson  lives in Derbyshire. His work is based in traditional stone masonry and he turns his hand to everything from commissions for bird baths and garden ornaments to architectural restoration and memorials.

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 An easy drive and I was parked on the village green at Wetheral near the church. It was just after one o’clock and for the first time I thought I might make the Solway today. A steep little lane took me down to the river and there was the next sculpture on a flat piece of land. This was a large affair, a bench with angels’ wings, cushions and arched panels reflecting the nearby bridge.

‘Flight of Fancy’ by Tim Shutter at Wetheral.

“The steep scale of the wooded bank across the river and the soaring viaduct combine to give the feeling of an outdoor cathedral. ‘Flight of Fancy’ plays with this ecclesiastical sense of lifting the spirit with angel’s wings, church style masonry and very convincingly carved prayer cushions”

 Tim Shutter is a master stone mason in the classical tradition. He is based in London.

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Back on the village green I became distracted by some tiny yellow fungi hidden in the grass -possibly Golden Waxcaps? There’s beauty in the minutiae too. P1010844

 *

 I was apprehensive of my detour into the centre of Carlisle for my penultimate benchmark. I new there was some parking near the castle so I asked my phone to take me there. It was clever enough to warn me that “the castle may be close today” Despite the heavy traffic delays I eventually arrived in the car park but couldn’t understand how to operate the pay machine. Two ladies took pity on me and as they had just finished their shopping spree gave me there still in time ticket. I felt the day was slipping away with these delays. P1010850

I walked towards the river only to find another car park without charges, the dog walkers used this one. Somehow rivers either bring a city to life or become subjugated into the background. The river Eden in Carlisle is of the latter character – lost between rail, roads and industrial sites or maybe it was the dullness of the afternoon that prejudiced me. The four stones were set in a line in the parkland alongside the river. Strange angular carvings which didn’t relate easily to me, erosion usually produces smoother features. OK they are smooth on one side but I find the other angles jarring.

‘Toward the Sea’ by Hideo Furuta in Bitts Park at Carlisle.

“The four components of this sculpture are manifestations of the sculptor’s intense and mathematical explorations of the stone itself and, almost incidentally, describe a sequence of water eroded stone running parallel with the flow of the river nearby”

 Hideo Furuta sadly died in 2007 aged 57. He was an artist of international standing and was based at a granite quarry  in Dumfries and Galloway. P1010853P1010861P1010862

 *

 Maybe I was a bit harsh about Carlisle as I know from my trip on the Hadrian Wall path that the Eden is in magnificent form either side of the city. Anyhow I was pleased to find an easy way out of the city to my last destination, the village of Rockcliffe on the Eden before it slips into the Solway.

The clock had turned three and the light was fading and I couldn’t find anywhere to park. I eventually used the carpark of a nearby pub and walked on down past the church to a little red cliffed bay area next to the river. Flood debris showed that it is often underwater. At the end I could see my final benchmark and thankfully it was a thing of beauty reminding me bizarrely of the amoebae I used to study under the microscope. How does the sculptor achieve such smoothness and shapes out of a block of sandstone? My only thought is that it could have been positioned closer to the Solway estuary itself but there may have been practical reasons against that. Here I saw the river slipping around the corner into that unseen estuary. I found a place to sit inside it and watched the sun fading in the greyness over the flat marshlands.

‘Global Warming’ by Anthony Turner at Rockcliffe.

“The title of this sculpture is indicative of its global perspective. Situated where the river Eden flows out to sea there is an expanding awareness of the wider world. It could simply be a huge sea creature washed onto the shore but it conveys the sense of an even bigger scale. There is a mysterious pregnant silence about it and it resembles a planet earth held carefully in a hand. The term global warming is now ominously synonymous with the world overheating yet we would like it to mean a nurturing, life enhancing glow”

 Anthony Turner was born in Kenya. A self taught painter and sculptor.  Recalling his childhood in Africa his sculptures are organic, exotic and sensual.

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*

 What a journey. I didn’t expect to reach all the Benchmarks today but time just seemed to flow for me. You must admit these sculptures are so impressive and yet so diverse. At each one I felt a strong connection with the artist, the stone and the setting. It is too late for me to rewalk the Eden Way but wouldn’t that be a finer way to appreciate the river and take in these works of art.

I’m back home after an easy motorway journey from Carlisle and preparing to visit my cousin and her husband down in Derbyshire. In the past I have shared walks with him but now he has advanced dementia and is bed bound.  Maybe I’ll show him some pictures of the River Eden.

EDEN VALLEY, MALLERSTANG.

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Time to head into the hills. After a good breakfast I  was ready to be away fairly early from the pub. Interestingly the garage opposite had more farmers’ quad bikes in for servicing than cars. P1010656

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Refueling.

It was a short drive up the valley into Mallerstang proper. On the way I passed the ruins of Pendragon Castle. The early morning light was so clear that I made a quick photographic stop in case things were murkier when I returned, it starts getting dark between three and four.

There is a lot of legend associated with the castle. it was supposedly built by Uther Pendragon, the father of King Arthur. It is said he tried to divert the river to form a moat.

A well known local couplet goes –

    Let Uther Pendragon do what he can,                                                                                                     Eden will run where Eden ran.

 The castle was built during the reign of King Rufus in the 12th century by Ranulph de Meschines,  After attacks by Scottish raiders in 1541 it became uninhabitable until the C17th when Lady Anne Clifford inherited it. She rebuilt it and added to it in 1660. It remained one of the favourites among her many castles until her death in 1676 at the age of 86. She spent her time between Skipton Castle and here in Westmorland  becoming involved with local affairs and restoring several nearby churches. A long distance walk tracing her travels passes this way. There is a statue of her in Kirkby Stephen market place. P1010666

 Her successor, the Earl of Thanet, had no use for the castle and removed anything of value from it, By the 1770s much of the building had collapsed. It now stands as a romantic ruin with pointy Wild Boar Fell in the background. P1010185P1010188P1010189

Whilst wandering around the ruins I was treated to a flypast by a Lockheed Hercules. P1010205

I drove through Outhgill which I visited yesterday and parked up at The Thrang for a walk I had picked off the net. It would take me up to the first Eden Benchmark, Water Cut – before visiting Hell Gill and its waterfalls, and then wandering back past valley farms.P1010209

Quite a broad track headed away from the valley floor, an old bridleway to Hawes at the head of Wensleydale. All the rivulets coming down from Mallerstang Edge were in full flow and my feet were wet after the first ford crossing. P1010224P1010221

That dot on the horizon turned out to be the benchmark in its very prominent position – how come I have never spotted it before? After some steady walking and a few more fords it was reached at about 420m. P1010225

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Water Cut by Mary Bourne. 1996. 

Water Cut is located a few miles from the source of the river Eden, high up on the eastern side of the Mallerstang valley. Like a huge milestone, it stands alongside the ancient green road known as Lady Anne Clifford’s Way. The space carved between the two vertical pillars creates the shape of a meandering river in the sky and provides a ‘window’ onto the real river in the valley below. It also symbolises the power of the river Eden cutting through the rock on its journey through East Cumbria and our own human journeys through the rural landscape and through life. Made from Salterwath Limestone, taken from a quarry near Shap, it also resembles the gate posts and stiles in drystone walls, which are so characteristic of the area, whilst it’s outer curve makes reference to the viaduct arches on the nearby Settle-Carlisle railway.”

Mary Bourne is an accomplished stone carver,  living in the North East Scotland. Her work explores forms of the landscape and her relationship with the natural environment.

I played about with various camera angles. The more I looked they resembled two salmon leaping, are there salmon in the Eden?

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From up here one has good views north along Mallerstang Edge and across the valley to Wild Boar Fell. The limestone lower layers contrasting with the overlying gritstone.

Not much farther I came to Hell Gill, I could hear it well before I reached the bridge over it. A deep rift in the limestone tearing down the hillside with thrashing waters in its depths. This was dramatic. I tried to get views down into the canyon but it was sensibly well fenced off. All was green mossy and ferny, I think there are fairies down there. P1010346P1010352P1010366P1010372P1010377P1010388P1010398P1010401

The water tumbled on down the hillside and I followed. It came to a welcome rest at a ford. P1010409P1010418P1010422P1010424P1010433

But what was that noise? A small steep detour and I could see the next and probably the best cataract. A video should have been taken. P1010440P1010451

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My boots were under water crossing the fast flowing ford.  P1010462

It must be all downhill from here but the next few miles tried my patience. I was basking in the beauty of Mallerstang and yet struggling to find the bridleway marked on the map on the ground. There was a lot more rough walking to come. It tended to keep above the top intake wall and hence involved tussocky grass and boggy areas. Few people use this way. P1010464P1010480P1010513P1010533

There were a few more waterfalls to admire and the light on the other side of the valley was beautiful. No steam on the Settle to Carlisle today.P1010550P1010472P1010477P1010466

Eventually I made my way to the valley bottom and along by the Eden back to my car just as the sun was going down behind Wild Boar Fell.P1010539P1010565P1010572P1010579

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I would highly recommend this walk, it packs a lot into those 6 miles without going onto the tops. I never saw another person.

Mallerstang-trail.pdf (edenriverstrust.org.uk)

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THE POETRY PATH. KIRKBY STEPHEN.

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 Twelve short poems, interpreting the hill farmer’s life throughout the year, written by Meg Peacocke, have been carved by lettering artist Pip Hall (0f Stanza Poems fame) on blocks of stone on a circular walk either side of the river Eden just outside Kirkby Stephen. Each stone also has an engraving depicting the month’s theme.  There was a handy car park at Stenkrith Bridge as this is also the start of another walk on the old rail track over three viaducts.  I was amazed at the flow of water through the little gorge below the bridge, a hidden thundering cataract. A little metal bridge took me over the water into the park.P1000777P1010052P1000791P1000785
 Alongside the path in the trees the first of the poems, well actually it was the ninth, October (Sheep Sales) as I had come into the trail half way round. Two stones, one of sandstone and the other Limestone. It was just possible to make out the poem.
 
 Sandstone. A desert wind, grain by grain, laid down these rocks. How did we trace a path through ancient dunes?
 Limestone. A million blanched and compacted shells. How did we swim through the drift and not perish?
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 The next poem, November (Tupping Time) was on a pair of upright stone slabs, again at the edge of the woods next to some spectacular rapids in the Eden.
 
 Through hazels and alders, softly or in spate, Eden moves in the valley it has hallowed  from Mallerstang to the shifting Solway sands.
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 I diverted from the poetry Path to try and find my first Eden Benchmark which was described after two of the poems. I could find no sign of it alongside the river and wondered whether it could have been washed away in the frequent floods. I was not entirely sure what I was looking for so I gave up and headed across the fields to the next poem, a Haiku.  December (Tree Planting)  I found them lying flat in the field.
 
  There sails the heron  drawing behind him  a long wake of solitude.P1000838P1000841
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 Next to Swingy Bridge was an upright stone commencing the year in January (Hedge Laying)
 
 The sky’s harsh crystal, wind a blade, trees stripped, grass dull with cold. Life is a kernel hidden in the stone of winter.
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A close up of the hedge laying motif showing how difficult they were to pick out.

 Having crossed the Eden I now followed an old sunken path through the woods on the other bank.
February’s (Cattle brought in for winter) poem was a stark tower of four blocks.
 
 Snowlight peers at the byre door. Neither day nor night, Four months ago we fetched the cattle in, safe from reiving wind and rain, months of standing shifting, burdened with patience. When will winter end?
Thin strakes of run on the byre door. Fork a load of silage out, straighten your back to watch them shove their muzzles in, and wonder if they crave the hazy nights when they can roam among tall summer grasses, sleek and sound and warm.  P1000862P1000877
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 The path crossed a small but lively stream and the March (Walling) poem’s block was in the water itself. Apparently when they were deciding where to place this stone it slipped from its cradle but landed perfectly in the water.
 
 From field and fell run cols run small. I am the rain tear in the eye blood in the vein I am the sea.  
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 April (Lambing) was built into the stone wall on the right. If the stone was already in the wall, which I assume it was, it is a sign of the walls antiquity.
 
 Coltsfoot, celandine, earliest daisies. Twin lambs race to the mother, baby cries, Mam! Mam! Jolt out of them and now they jostle the ragged ewe, boosting each split hoof high off the bitten turf. Pinching jaws and hard curled coats are braced against these April suns and sleets.  P1000904P1000908
 
 Farther on just before a bridge over the old railway line and again built into a wall was the larger May (Paling) poem. Another piece of ancient wall. Look at those lovely lichens growing on the rock.
 
 Penned in a huddle, the great tups are clints of panting stone. The shepherd lifts a sideways glance from the labour of dagging tails. His hands are seamed with muck and sweat runs into his eyes. Above us, a plane has needled the clear blue.  P1000914P1000915P1000917
 
 After the bridge June (Gathering and marking sheep) was found in the undergrowth on the right. The two blocks look as though they have come out of a mill floor.
 
 Light drops like honey from branch to branch. Elders balance their dishes of cream, while fledglings try small quivery leaps, testing buoyancy of the air.  P1000926P1000929P1000927
 
 I followed the path down to join the track of the old railway, part of the longer viaducts walk. July (Haymaking and silage) was soon encountered, a large rough block of limestone there on the left.
 
 Silage. Tractor incises the first green furrow. Skilful geometrician, the driver judges an arc of weather. P1000938P1000940P1000941P1000946
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Farther along August’s (Showing sheep at shows) poem is semi hidden in the trees to the right. A large weathering sandstone block with a white patina of lichens encroaching on the lettering.
 
 Crabapples tart on the tongue, Hazelnuts milky, Rosehips cool in the hand, Thistledown silky.  Squirrel is speaking his mind.
Knapweed purples the banks.
For touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing I give thanks.”
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 The last poem on my circuit was September (Farmer’s markets) a block of shaped red sandstone maybe reflecting the railway’s past. The bold lettering adding to the effect.
 
 Revetted banks, a concrete post. Rabbits tunnel the cinder waste. Angle iron, link of broken chain. Listen, and catch the hiss of steam again. P1000982P1000989
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I have transcribed the poems above as photographs don’t show them clear enough. As well as the poems, motifs reflecting the subjects were inscribed on the stones, I found it virtually impossible to make these out which is a shame but sculptures on natural rock exposed to the elements will suffer from corrosion. I really enjoyed this little walk, a great idea to highlight the area. The stones were well chosen and positioned. Meg’s poetic lines are to the point and very evocative – make sure you read them.
 
 I was back where I started, but smarting from not finding that benchmark, I rechecked  on my phone, ‘pocket computer’, It seemed to suggest it was after the first two poetry stones and gave a grid reference. But people often quote misread grid refences. Lets look again. I delved deeper into the undergrowth by the river after the second poetry stone and found nothing, the grid refence I was getting was different from the publicised one. I then followed my phone to the given grid reference and there stumbled upon the installation It was close to the river hidden by undergrowth, nearby the first poem which being composed of two stones could have caused the confusion.
 
 This, the second Benchmark down stream on the Eden was called ‘Passage’ by Laura White
Evocative of the river’s passage through the gorge under Stenkrith Bridge, this sculpture is subtle and unobtrusive but exudes an inner strength that somehow gathers the special ambience of its location. The shapes carved into the stone are clearly derived from the shapes in the river bed rocks but have been refined to activate and compliment the space and provide a focal point for contemplation”  
 
 Laura White’s early work with stone explored organic themes but more recently she has used mixed media and video images. She lives in London and teaches at Goldsmiths College in London and Manchester Metropolitan University.
 
 Ah well, at least I found it. The stones were rather lost in the vegetation and are slowly naturally mossing over, not many people visit them or perhaps can’t find them. Whatever, it was a good excuse to spend some more time alongside the lively Eden and on the breccia bedrock. 
 
 
 
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Tomorrow I will head to the hills for the first of the Eden Benchmarks. 

GOLDSWORTHY PINFOLDS IN THE EDEN VALLEY.

 
 
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“People also leave presence in a place even when they are no longer there” 
 Andy Goldsworthy.
 
 I had two objectives today – The Poetry Path in Kirkby Stephen and Andy Goldsworthy’s six Pinfold Cones, from early this century, scattered around the area. As the day progresses an Eden Benchmark crept into my itinerary. It became a bit of a whirlwind day. Just warning you, in fact I have just decided to remove the poetry to another post.
It is difficult to write a post when virtually all of your six subjects, in this case the Pinfold Cones. are almost identical.
  A fairly early start and I found myself driving narrow lanes in the mist. This is limestone country. Through the village of Orton and onwards to Crosby Ravensworth to try and find my first pinfold. This was easy as it was next to the main street at the south end of the scattered village. A small square pinfold with one of Andy Goldsworthy’s stone cones in the centre. The cone shape is said to have been influenced by the Nine Standards Rigg above Kirkby Stephen. He has used it in installations in many places. He talks of the cone shape being warm and enveloping, a source of hope and also protection. They focus our attention on the environment and the history of man’s influences upon it.
 This cone is made from local limestone, looking quite black in this damp morning. The Pinfolds will have been around for a long time, a pen used for stray animals before they could be reunited with their owners. We have a good example on the outskirts of Longridge. I have found some reference for Goldsworthy’s pinfolds being rebuilt on the  original sites, there doesn’t seem to be any documentation for each one. I must assume at least that it will now guarantee their survival.P1000674
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 Back in Orton I stopped for a coffee in Kennedy’s Fine Chocolate shop. Maybe I should have stocked up on luxury Christmas presents, but I didn’t. Across the street is The George Hotel, we ended up there one afternoon after climbing at nearby Jackdaw Scar, Kings Meaburn, a crag where you start on a sandstone lower wall which morphs into limestone as you progress. The geology of this whole area is fascinating and one learns a lot from climbing on its cliffs. The bar staff had had a busy Sunday lunchtime and were wanting to rest before the evening’s trade. Being officially open, they happily accommodated us though, by locking us into one of the bars at the back with orders not to let anybody else in. We sipped our supplies of beer and played pool for an hour or so. P1000687P1000689
 I drove through the village of Raisbeck without realising and ended up on a single track road going nowhere. I had to backtrack and found the next Pinfold, a larger square with a gated entrance hidden away in the trees, the clue being Pinfold Bridge shown on the map. Another limestone construction. Judging by the vegetation few people bother to search it out. P1000696P1000698P1000703
 Not wanting to face that narrow lane again I retraced my way back through the few houses that make up Raisbeck. Something caught my eye as I passed a small building. Stopping for a closer look it turned out to be an old school house. The Dame School was built in 1780 by farmers of Raisbeck and repaired in 1857, probably closed by 1900. Dame schools were for young children of poor families providing only a basic education.  By the 1970s the old school building was in a bad condition. A poet named Michael Ffinch and local supporters fought to have it designated and restored. 
 The notice on the door said “COME IN”. There was a room downstairs with a fireplace and wooden floored room upstairs. There wouldn’t have been space for many children. How good that it has free access without any obvious funding. Ffinch wrote a poem about it and I wished I had photographed it in the room because I can’t find it now.
Outside was an unusual stone picnic table and 2 stone ‘flower beds’ one celebrating Queen Elizabeth’s reign, the other Charles coronation. They are quick off the mark up here.P1000717P1000732P1000739P1000758
  There was still mist about on the hills as I drove down to Kirkby Stephen. P1000767P1000770
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 My next stop just outside Kirkby Stephen – The Poetry Path. But I am leaving that for a separate post.
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 The day was still young or so I thought and therefore I decided to drive to find more Goldsworthy Pinfolds which were easily accessible by road in the area north of Kirkby Stephen. 
 I drove the short distance to Church Brough and parked under the shadow of the castle at the primary school. There was the circular Pinfold with its Cone – but slap bang in the middle of the school’s play field. I hesitated taking any photo of  this one due to its proximity to the school. P1010667
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 Up the fast and furious A66 to Warcop. All around are military training grounds with lots of warning signs. In fact as I got out of the car distant artillery bursts were audible. The little square pinfold was a haven of peace. We are now in sandstone country.
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 Farther up the A66 past Appleby I took to those narrow country lanes again to the small village of Bolton. The pinfold was easy to find right next to the road. New housing is going up all around and it is good that the Pinfold survived even though it is somewhat hemmed in. Not as sympathetic to the environment as Goldsworthy would have liked..P1010101P1010098
 
 
 Driving back to Kirkby Stephen there is still light enough to carry on to Outhgill, higher up the Eden at the start of Mallerstang, where the last of my pinfolds was situated. I have driven through this hamlet many times but never stopped to explore.  At one time Outhgill had an inn, a post office, a smithy, parish church and a Methodist chapel. Of these, only the church still functions. In the churchyard are the unmarked graves of 25 of the builders of the Mallerstang section of the Settle-Carlisle Railway who died or were killed during the construction. At the time the line was constructed (1869 to 1875) between Dent and Kirkby Stephen, six thousand navvies and there families were employed and housed in shanty towns in the valley. Can you imagine the squalor?

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 I noticed one property named Faraday Cottage, where the father of the scientist Michael Faraday was the blacksmith in the late 18th century. He in fact moved to London before Michael was born so the link is tenuous.  P1010616P1010615
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Faraday Cottage.

    The Outhgill pinfold was up a little lane and was the smallest I had come across.  P1010614P1010611P1010608
 
 Quite a busy day. The Black Bull in Nateby proved a very friendly place with good food and beer. I slept much better than I do at home.  P1010648P1010651P1010650
 
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