A walk in the rain

Typically, on the first day of the school holidays, the very long, dry, hot spell we've been having broke dramatically. We had drizzle interspersed with very sharp bursts of torrential rain and it was much the same across most of the UK. It was still warm and much more humid, of course, so after my walk I felt very sticky. Whilst it's a shame for all the children who want to play out, the rain is much needed. Our soil, lawns and plants are parched and the reservoirs almost empty. It felt like quite a novelty to have a walk in the damp, really refreshing. Whether the wet weather will continue, who knows? It did rain a little on St Swithun's Day, 15 July, which is supposed to herald forty days of rain but in all my years I've never noticed that old saying to be particularly true. 

St Swithun's day if thou dost rain

For forty days it will remain
St Swithun's day if thou be fair
For forty days 'twill rain nae mare

Lingalonga

Lingalonga... and who wouldn't want to, when the scenery is as tranquil as this? Several boats were taking advantage of the shade of the trees alongside Hirst Woods. I imagine being moored in full sun soon has the inside of a narrowboat heating up unbearably. 

The canal itself is littered with seeds and pollen. We haven't had rain for weeks here, and everything is parched and dirty. Where trees have dropped their sap, the pavements are gluey and grey, and my car and my flat's windows are covered in sticky dust. A good rain shower would be cleansing! 

The river looks a bit messy too, albeit it has a very slow current that stirs things around a tiny bit. 

The water level is very low indeed. The 'crocodile' is still there, now with a much longer snout as the river level drops. 

It's not often that I would welcome a few heavy showers but, with temperatures currently higher in the UK than in Greece, Italy and Spain and no significant rainfall since March, this weather pattern is unusual.  

Snow days

It's beginning to feel a bit like lockdown, since this last week of snow, ice and below freezing temperatures have made me disinclined to venture out of my cosy little apartment. I've run out of chores. (It doesn't take a lot of effort to keep this place clean and tidy.) I've been feeling incredibly blessed that I don't have to go anywhere and have nothing better to do than play. 

I have books, of course, and time to process a few photos on my computer. I completed an incredibly detailed and therefore absorbing jigsaw (below) called 'London from Above', which included most of the major London landmarks. I thought it would be easy (not much blank, blue sky) but, although I didn't have to source pieces just from the shape like you sometimes do, it did require meticulous attention to tiny details like lamp-posts. It took me all week, on and off, so it was most enjoyable. 

Then I decided I'd get out my watercolours. It's a long time since I did any painting and I'm still learning how to use them - to mix colours, get the right amount of water versus pigment and so on. It is another of those 'whole brain' activities that are so good at keeping one's mind off the dreadful state of the world. I was just playing with random patterns and these are not 'keepers', just experiments - but I really had fun messing about. 

Now the snow appears to be melting a little. I was able to go out and clear the dumped snow off my car without too much effort. It may freeze again overnight but hopefully I'll be able to drive to the supermarket and stock up. I've been living off what I have in the freezer and cupboards - thankfully plenty of stored home-cooked meals, as when I cook I usually make a few more portions than I need and then freeze them. I nearly always keep some bread and milk in the freezer too. I am so fortunate. 

Dreich

The weather on the day I took these photos could only be described as 'dreich', a Scottish word for the dull, damp, dreary weather that Scotland, in particular, but also the North of England does so well! Nevertheless, there's a certain beauty, I think, in these views of the old mills and chimneys that still grace our local landscape. 

The first photo is a view of Shipley Wharf on the Leeds-Liverpool Canal, looking towards Saltaire. The second's a view down the hill from Shipley Kirkgate towards Salts Mill. 

(Now we have snow, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough to go out to take photos! Our hospitals are in crisis with a flu surge so, if anyone falls on the ice, they could be waiting hours for rescue and treatment.) 

Turbulence

The Aire was as full as it could be without actually flooding after Storm Debi, our fourth named storm in a few weeks. Honestly, it feels as though it has been raining almost constantly since mid-July, save for the odd sunny day here and there. The newly-laid riverside path was inundated in a few places so my walk was a bit of a paddle in parts. The water has a lot of power when it is like this, and I'd be worried if I lived in one of those riverside properties as there is no sign of a let-up in the rain and there is flooding up in the Dales. Along with the high water, there were a few trees down in the woods. The wind has been gale force, although it was strangely calm by the time I went out. I had to limbo nimbly under some branches blocking the path - not easy when I had a good many layers on, which made it harder to bend - though it actually wasn't as cold as I'd expected due to the lack of wind. Bin collection day tomorrow (as I write this) so let's hope the wind stays away or everywhere will be littered

Storm Babet

Ever since they started naming storms, the weather seems to have got a bit above itself. It definitely has a swagger to it! Storm Babet swept in over the past few days, bringing torrential rain and high winds across much of the country. It was particularly bad over central and eastern Scotland, with widespread flooding. Yorkshire took a battering too, but thankfully I haven't heard of any floods in our local area. You can often judge how bad things are by where the river level in Roberts Park rises to. It's been known to flood right across the lower field, but this time it only spread over the footpath and had already receded by the time I went down to take these photos. You could see people were having to divert across the grass though, so the perimeter path must still have had some standing water.  The weir was rushing and foaming but, again, I've seen it worse. 

Weathering well

There has been a weather recording station in Bradford's Lister Park since 1908 and it has provided weather reports every day since then. At one time it was manually checked but now it's automated and monitored by the Met (Meteorological) Office 24 hours a day. I'm not sure exactly what it measures but temperature, wind speed, air pressure, humidity and rainfall must come into it. There is a variety of instruments inside, protected by a fence. I've passed it many times without realising that each side of the fence depicts a different season. Spring (above) has green leaves appearing on a tree, a man walking a dog and the sun hiding behind a cloud. 

Summer (below) has children playing with a ball, full sunshine and a verdant tree. 

Autumn's person battles an inside-out umbrella under storm clouds, whilst the tree is being stripped of its leaves. Winter has a bare branched tree and a snowman. 

A wet Wharfedale walk

Changeable weather in July meant a wander by the River Wharfe turned into a WWW: a Wet Wharfedale Walk. It is, however, quite pleasant to swap the hot, dry days of June for something cooler and more refreshing. Our land needs the rain and a brisk wind meant that conditions changed quickly: sharp showers followed by sunshine. It all looked much more interesting than a landscape under a clear blue sky tends to do. 

We set off from the Strid car park on the Bolton Abbey Estate and walked upstream, following the Dalesway long-distance path. In the photo above, you can just about see Barden Bridge in the far distance. The River Wharfe was fairly low, meandering lazily over its gravel bed.  

The big sky and its grey, swirling clouds were shot through by the occasional blue patch, with an accompanying burst of bright sunshine picking out parts of the landscape.

Arriving at Howgill, we left the Dalesway, crossed the road and walked up a track, past some old stone barns and farm buildings. 

An attractively dilapidated old shed caught my eye; so many wonderful textures there.  

Our halfway point was, happily, the Brownie Barn, where a pot of tea and a brownie (Morello cherry - yum!) soon revived us. You could, however, see the rain approaching and our return along the lanes and down through the fields was a much soggier affair! 

Icons in the fog

Fog strips the warmth out of Saltaire's honey-coloured stone and, I think, brings in a bit of an air of menace or spookiness. I suppose it's for that reason that some dramatic films use fog machines to wreath a scene in mist for added atmosphere. In these conditions our iconic buildings: Salts Mill, Saltaire United Reformed Church and the New Mill, have a very different ambience. The big mill chimney, so tall, almost gets lost in the murk. 

 

Fog on the Aire

Here are a few more photos from the freezing, foggy weather we had recently. 'Fog on the Tyne' (1971, Lindisfarne) was a hit song in my youth but this was 'fog on the Aire'. 

The river beyond Saltaire was calm and the hint of gold from the willow trees was picked up in the water. I didn't walk right down to the aqueduct - it was too cold for me to want to stay out long. 

There were not many people in the park. Even Hirst Weir seemed more muted than it sometimes is. It's funny how fog literally has a blanketing effect, not only visually but sound too. 

Freezing fog

This winter is throwing all sorts of weather at us - freezing fog persisted all day. I wrapped up well and went for a walk anyway, and it was interesting to see how unfamiliar things look in those conditions. The canal towpath walk had an air of mystery, as though one might enter through a portal and find oneself in some other place.   

Rain stopped play

A scene fairly typical of the past few weeks: chilly, damp and with heavy cloud and misty rain. There were no children in Hirst Wood playground and no adults using the fitness equipment. All a bit of a wash-out! The blue telephone box is a little free library where you can borrow books and return them for nothing.

Rain-drenched Kilnsey

A friend and I set off recently, planning to walk along the river in Grassington and then have lunch somewhere... but as we drove up through Wharfedale the rain came down hard. We ended up driving to Kilnsey Trout Farm - a beautiful spot even on such a dreadful day - and had a lengthy coffee stop in the café there. Kilnsey Crag, at the far side of the fishing lakes, is more visible through the trees in winter. The little beck that flows down to the Wharfe was in full spate. 

It was so full that it was flowing over the old clapper bridge, though the more modern wooden bridge at the entrance to the farm park is slightly higher and was just about clear of the water. The fields around the Wharfe were boggy but not completely flooded; a lot of the water has moved further downstream to Ilkley and beyond. As we drove up, the Aire valley flood plain around Silsden and Skipton was saturated. It looks very different - and not unattractive - when fields become lakes and the flood plain does its job of soaking up the excess. There's really nowhere to stop along the trunk road, or I might have taken some photos there. 

It wasn't really the day out we'd planned. I feel I may be turning into my mother, going 'out for a drive' rather than a walk! We even ended up at the Keelham Farm Shop outside Skipton, to complete the 'retired/elderly people' trope! But I am retired and also still trying to return to my usual self after Covid, so there's no point in being sad about it. I don't think I'm really in much danger of becoming 'elderly' yet!

Don't feed the horses

A few horses live in the fields bounded by Saltaire's allotments, the canal, the railway and the nature reserve. They have shelters and a wide area to roam in so I rarely see them up near the footpath. As I went past one day, two of them were standing there in the pouring rain, looking wet and forlorn. Despite the sign, perhaps they were hoping for a titbit of some sort, or maybe just a friendly pat on the nose. The field is double-gated; there is another strong barrier where I was standing so there is no chance of getting close to them. It seems their owners take security pretty seriously, with good reason. A campaign aims to educate the public on the dangers of feeding horses without their owners' permission, which can unwittingly result in illness or be fatal to the animals. 

Frost

I think we are too deep in the valley to get the beautiful hoar frost on trees that I see on many photos (or maybe I just don't get up and out quickly enough). It's sheltered here and soon warms up when the sun comes out. Nevertheless, the slightly sub-zero temperatures we've been having have created a ground frost and even a little of the white stuff makes everywhere look different and rather magical. 

The heron had decided that roosting in the sun in a field was preferable to having cold, wet feet standing on the weir, where he's normally to be found. He was pretty hunched up, with feathers fluffed out, not looking too overjoyed about life. 

The river wasn't frozen over but the canal was, with various leaves suspended in the ice. 

Ice bound

We've had sub-zero temperatures for a week or so. Whilst much of the country has had snow, there's been none here yet, but it's been frosty and icy. 

The two boats (above) have been moored here for many weeks and are currently ice-bound so they won't be moving even if they wanted to. I think they've decided to stay here over the winter. I often see the owner chopping logs on the towpath. I suppose having a woodburner constantly fired up uses a lot of fuel. 

Nearer the locks there are a couple of boats that have arrived more recently. The cheery red wheelhouse cover was, photographically, a lovely foil to the cool colours of its surroundings. 

On the aqueduct you can clearly see how the canal, with fairly shallow and static water, is frozen over whereas the river Aire below is still running free. I was careful along this stretch. I know from past, painful experience that the concrete footway over the bridge can get very slippery. I was surprised to see a few boats from the rowing club out on the river. I wouldn't fancy my chances capsizing in that cold water! They obviously trust their ability to handle their craft. 

Rain stopped play

Saltaire's cricket pitch in Roberts Park is possibly one of the most attractive settings for a sports ground in the UK, especially when the pink roses are in full bloom on the park's main promenade. There were dramatic storm clouds building up and, shortly after I took the photo below, the heavens opened. The sudden burst of torrential rain would surely have had the players dashing for the pavilion. It certainly had me racing home!   

Castles in the rain

Northumberland break 9

As I was exploring Holy Island, the weather was dramatic to say the least. Bright spells of sunshine were interspersed with very heavy downpours that you could see coming from far away. I got thoroughly drenched a couple of times, though thankfully modern outdoor clothing soon dries out. The island is relatively flat so Lindisfarne Castle, built atop a volcanic plug, towers over the scene. That was my first place to visit, though I soon got distracted, hunting 'the best view' of it for a photo.  

Looking back from the castle across the sheltered harbour inlet afforded an attractive view of the village, with the ruins of Lindisfarne Priory on the left. That was another casualty of Henry VIII's reforms, despite its long and significant history. Stone plundered from the ruined monastery was used to build the castle as well as some of the village houses. The castle was originally a small garrison built as a defence against the threat from Scottish raids. 

 

Looking south from the beach near the castle, you could just see Bamburgh Castle on the horizon, illuminated occasionally in breaks in the storm clouds.