Hawkweed or Hawkbit,
(definitely) Harebell growing through a former sea bed of limestone,
and something familiar I’ve not seen before #wildflowerID - growing along a quarry face as a peregrine begged its parent to share some food.
Recently, a well-meaning national park worker posted a photo of The Howgills. Got ten times the usual "likes" but also caused a PILE-ON due to the overgrazed, bare land it showed. No point repeating it.
Instead, I bought a book and went for a look.
a THREAD: LOVELY / DESOLATE ?
Alfred Wainwright understated most things in his guides. How hard these walks can be. How beautiful they can be. But he leaves plenty of clues.
Like his amazement at seeing a single tree here.
As he wrote "even God has been driven out"
Alfred found loveliness & desolation here.
Just after his visit, a film was made: "The Dale That Died". You can watch it for free here thanks to @BFIPlayer
(Watch the first 3 & last 3 mins if you're in a terrible rush).
Visit @farfieldmill near Sedbergh this week or soon!
There’s a brilliant contrast of beautiful and ‘terrible’ things to see.
But most of all, there’s this: “Through The Locking Glass” - a collection of work created during lockdown by dozens of Cumbria’s creatives.
SHORT THREAD
Here’s the ‘terrible’ in both senses...
William ‘a young boy untroubled by any schooling’ worked at the mill. He ran away and was found by sniffer dogs. He was soon accidentally skinned by a waterwheel. Later, he survived the flu at 17 and finally retired. After 86 years of service.
Fancy coming for a walk round ours? Tried something new...I took a photo (in any direction) every 100 metres.
You don’t need to go that far, or reach summits to escape.
Dog-friendly stile.
Two pairs of snipe? seemed as surprised as me.
Landmark trees.
Tractor ballet.
I’ve finally mown mine. First time since Spring. Three small bales.
Himalayan Balsam. Bees might like it but no one else does.
I can see the woods from here!
The ‘Huttonwood’ Walk of Fame. They’ll be glad of that when they look back...
I’m back. (I know. You didn’t know I’d gone. It’s OK).
Had an unplanned adventure yesterday. It went meanderingly well. Looked for fungi first, for BBC radio.
Overheard one of this trio reading aloud. They told of the local ‘Grumbletrog’. I knew exactly what they meant.
THREAD
I once read a story aloud outdoors about the Raven of Eycott Hill. Bit intimidating as the writer and her family turned up.
And she is very tall and beautiful. I am neither.
She writes & draws story maps for nature reserves.
They enjoyed their Grumbletrog tale trail.
Then this
It felt like the government asking for donations to run their nature reserves? Well, I’d heard schools had been doing the same for ages. Natural England is ‘independent of government’ and skint?
I’d missed a nearby village’s exhibition but this cheered me up after that thought.
First walk for weeks with John.
Neither of us had been before.
And I thought he’d been everywhere.
We sploshed east of Shap summit (Wainwright somehow missed this one) to Bretherdale.
A lovely little valley. Turned out to be filled with abandoned farms. Not sure why.
A THREAD
The farms must have been tiny. And working incredibly hard, arguably against the nature of this wild place.
Bit of a change from Missing Cat.
Think we might have found it, anyway.
And a wall gap that might explain why you missed your turn off.
‘Here be dragons’...
More former farms. Much more recently abandoned?
Still got glass windows. Taps.
And look carefully, I think that’s a satellite dish..?
After Windermere's sunshine and swallows over Claife Heights, I was feeling short of what Alfred Wainwright called "featureless desolation, and solitude, and silence"...
Welcome to Wasdale, near Shap.
Low cloud 'CLAG' was a bonus. AW had promised:
Terry Abraham was over in the other Wasdale that day filming handsome folk & fells. (Bet he'd have rather been over here with the wild Angelica).
Then the clouds lifted. I'd not noticed that the Shap Summit Memorial had it's own memorial before...
Gordon's widow & friends came up to Shap in 2013, on this, his 1955 bus. To remember Gordon and everyone up there. It's a hard place.
I followed the Roman road, away from the traffic.
It soon gets quiet.
Never really gets dry.