Spring is coming

The weather has been very mixed over the last few weeks. We've had the winter gales, the rain, the mist, but hardly a day of frost - though last Thursday was pretty hairy on the bike. But it's mainly been a winter memorable for it's mildness - so far. And it's the winter when climate change seemed to hit the mainstream press. It seems that not a week goes by without press coverage. Well, I suppose when I say 'mainstream' I do mean The Guardian, the Independant, and Radio 4. The tabloids had more important things to discuss, such as the bickering of celebrities.

At Ryton, the first signs of spring are emerging: snowdrops, hellebores, and crocuses. Let's hope that they do not regret emerging an estimated two weeks earlier than usual: I could still find myself eating my words about the mildness of the winter, it is not done yet.

Late for work...

...because I had to cycle through a river. The Sowe burst its banks and I got wet feet.

Compare the photo below with those in my post 'Sowe in spate'. The level of the river isn't that much higher...

...but this is the result. By the look of the Environment Agency website, the block of flats in the background is just out of the flood risk area. I still wouldn't fancy living in a ground floor flat there.

I was almost disappointed when the Avon was still - just - where it should be. But during the day we heard that it had burst its banks and the road was deeply flooded. At hometime, it being a dry evening, I went to see if I could get through anyway, and I could, as the separate pedestrian bridge and walkway was still a foot or so above the water. But it was quite exciting, with a wide swathe of roiling brown water pouring underneath. A group of teenagers were hanging out and watching the cars which tried to get through - irritatingly several SUVs made it through even though the water was at least half a metre deep.

I do rather like these natural phenomena which we have little control over, but I had to remind myself that someone, somewhere has probably had their house flooded out today, which isn't too good.

NB. The use of both metric and imperial measurements is intentional. Having learnt my maths in the '60s and '70s I was taught both, and it's very useful to have a wider repertoir to use.

Christmas in Grassington

We like going to Yorkshire at Christmas for the views, fell-top walks, and crisp, snowy weather. But it doesn't always work out that way. This year it was misty all week - apart from the day when it rained. However, Grassington has an intriguing network of public footpaths radiating out in all directions, made more mysterious and secretive by the mist. All week we ventured out on short expeditions to explore iron age field patterns and deserted medieval villages, extinct lead mines, woodlands and river valleys. This part of the Yorkshire Dales is a classic karst limestone landscape, with potholes and sinkholes peppering the hills, as well as the abandoned mines, so we stuck to the footpaths, though much of the area is now open access.

Grassington itself is a lovely little big village, with some good shops. It's a bit touristy, but that's to be expected, and it's not too over-the-top. There's no lead mining left, and I'm sure mining tourist's pockets is a more healthy trade.

The River Wharf at Linton. We didn't use the stepping stones, as experience from a couple of years back has indicated that they can lead to wet feet, a bruised hip, and unseemly sniggering by one's walking companion. Well, I couldn't see the ice, it was transparent!

St. Michael's church, in the middle ground, is built on a bend in the river, probably a pagan site of worship. St. Michael is often a dedication to a church on a knoll or tor, also probably pagan sites. It's a lovely church. Nearby Burnsall Church has a display about the viking influence in the area, and a couple of very early hog's-back tombs.

Grassington Lead Mine. A huge area was mined, and as recently as the '60s the waste spoil was being re-worked for barytes and fluorspar. It has left a fascinating landscape of pits and derelict buildings which we explored as they loomed out of the mist.


Flue and chimney. The smoke from the lead smelting was routed in a flue up the hill for several miles, so that lead would condense out of the smoke onto the walls of the flue.


The flue is a narrow tunnel, now collapsed in places. Every so often the smelting mill would be shut down and boys sent up the flue to scrape off the lead. It was a dangerous process as shown by the comments under this far sunnier picture. More info on lead mining in Yorkshire here.

The day when it rained? We went to Skipton for the best scone and latte in Yorkshire! ('Wild Oats Cafe' if you're interested). And we happened to do a little bit of shopping too...