Tales from the riverbank

Here are a few scenes that appealed to me from a recent wander along the river, on a chilly and misty morning. The water was unusually calm, with hardly a breath of wind to ruffle its surface, so that there was quite a peaceful atmosphere. 

 Breathe... let go... and relax...

 

Light in the darkness

Two of our village's Advent windows have taken a similar theme, that of light in the darkness. The first one uses a Bible quote: John 1:5 'The light shines in the darkness' [and the darkness has not overcome it], with a brightly burning candle as its centrepiece. 

The second uses a quote from a Doctor Who Christmas Special (A Christmas Carol): 'We're halfway out of the dark'. Not that I know that one, as I've never been a real Doctor Who fan, but Google is a wonderful thing - and I did, of course, recognise the time-travelling Tardis. 

Both quotes seem very apt, as we look back on a tough year and forward to the hope of a vaccine that will enable us to resume something resembling a more normal rhythm of life. Both windows also meet the need for a bold and crisp design that is not too complicated. Well done to the artists. 

 

Disco Santa!

I was just making tea in the kitchen yesterday when I heard loud disco music from outside. Being nosey, I looked out of the back door and saw... Santa! He's certainly getting around. If the children can't go to him this year, people are making sure he goes to them. This was, sadly, not the real thing but a cheery inflatable model. It was drizzling so I didn't stay outside for long but I think I recognise the bike as possibly being one of the Cecil Green Arts creations. One of Santa's helpers was, I think, Vick Jenkins, our local Labour councillor, though it was pretty dark so I can't be sure. What a lovely thing to do though. The neighbourhood's children enjoyed it and I'm sure everyone needs a little something to smile about. Apologies for the fairly poor photo. The only thing I had to hand downstairs was my iPad, which doesn't have a great quality camera compared to my phone (which was charging) or my big camera. It did the job though! 

Advent windows

It's traditional in Saltaire that people decorate their windows with festive scenes during Advent. Usually one window is 'opened' every night from the 1st of December until Christmas. This year there will be many more than that, with a total of 55 to see by the end of Advent. I notice that there are other towns and villages taking up the idea too, in this country and internationally. I think people got enthused early in the year when we were making rainbows for the NHS and even more people have discovered their creativity and community spirit.

I don't suppose I shall find room for all the 55 (!) but I will ferret out the most photogenic, as I usually do, to share on my blog. I know people enjoy seeing them. Saltaire's URC church always manages a bold and clear design (created by Jenn).  This year there are angels (above) bringing 'glad tidings of great joy', despite a particularly difficult year for the church, who have had to contend not only with Covid but also storm damage to the church roof and ceiling inside. 

I don't think the windows at the Victoria Hall are illuminated at night but children at Saltaire Primary School have painted some snowy scenes for our enjoyment. 

The daily 'reveals' are posted on the Saltaire Living Advent Calendar Facebook page, so you can see them all there if you wish: https://www.facebook.com/saltaireadventcalendar/

 

Festive Haworth at night

The village of Haworth (known for being the home of the literary Brontë sisters) usually pulls out all the stops at Christmas, with all sorts of festivities during December. They have torchlit parades, markets, carol singing, a nativity and the tradition of 'scroggling the holly' (don't ask!), all mainly designed to attract people to spend time and money in the village. (See HERE for a description of past years). 

This year it will all be much reduced, as we try to navigate through the pandemic. Instead of events, they have concentrated on making the Christmas lights extra sparkly, with lots of little Christmas trees all over the village. I was passing nearby on my way home one evening, so I stopped off in the village to take a look. It started raining hard after a while and I struggled to keep my lens clear of rain spots, though it did have the bonus of giving some nice effects on the wet cobbles. 

The top photo shows one of the village pubs, the Black Bull, reputedly haunted. It is famous for being where Branwell Brontë, the sisters' troubled, alcoholic and drug addict brother, spent much of his time. Sadly many pubs are currently closed but it still looked cheerful and cosy with all the lights on. 

The church looked rather nice with flood lighting and Christmas trees at its gate. The Brontës' father, Patrick, was the minister here from 1820 to 1861 when he died. (His wife and children all predeceased him). The present church was, however, largely rebuilt around 1880. 

The village has many small shops that cater mainly to tourists. I guess they've had a hard time of it this year. They were putting on a lovely festive show, beautifully decorated and lit.  

 

Simply cruising

I thought people were advised to restrict their movement on the canal in the latest lockdown, apart from essential journeys, but that doesn't seem to have stopped boats from cruising and mooring locally. I can't really see that it presents much of a risk. So much of the guidance seems illogical and I guess that's why people are tending to make their own decisions. I actually felt quite cheered to see this boat quietly slipping by on a rather damp and misty morning. There's a kind of romance about canal life; nostalgia perhaps for a simpler, slower, gentler time (though it probably never was like that in reality). 

Shop local

I was reading recently that Saltaire has defied a retail downturn during the pandemic by seeing a surge in popularity in our local shops. It seems many people have discovered the benefits of shopping local, avoiding the big supermarkets in favour of the small, friendly outlets where they have a strict policy of social distancing, only allowing a limited number of shoppers inside at any one time, with many also doing home deliveries. Salts Village Bakery (above - looking warm and inviting on a dull, wet day) often has a queue outside. The Scandi-influenced former coffee shop, Nordish, has adapted to become a bakery too, selling posh Scandi pastries and fancy bread. Edward Street Bakery is opening a new shop up on Gordon Terrace and Binns of Saltaire, the high-quality butcher, has moved to a much larger store in the same row of shops. Binns and their near neighbour The Orange Grove greengrocer and fishmonger started delivering food right at the start of the initial lockdown and I think that gained them some loyal followers. I note that The Orange Grove is currently selling Christmas trees too. 

There are a couple of shops (Mr Whetstone and Giddy Arts) retailing eco household products, minimally packaged wholefoods and cooking ingredients. A bit of 'gentrification' going on, perhaps, but it all chimes with the zeitgeist in the village as it becomes home to an increasing number of young professionals and creative types. Of course, we also have a few gift shops like Rad Studio (below), this being to a certain extent a tourist area. After weeks of being closed, I'm sure they must be relieved to be able to open for a couple of weeks prior to Christmas, as that must be when they make the most significant local sales. There was a queue outside! 

It's that time of year

It's that time of year when a mid-afternoon walk can be enlivened by the low winter sunshine. It glints off buildings so that they stand out in a way they wouldn't normally do. A case in point was how the tower of Saltaire's New Mill was positively glowing orange, as was its reflection in the canal. The rest of the mill was in shadow so the effect was quite striking. 

Pass progress

It appears that they have finished building the fish pass on the river beside the weir at the entrance to Roberts Park. They started in March just as the lockdown began here, so it has taken a long time. It still seemed to be blocked by a barrier at the top so no water was running through it (though a few days before I took these photos, when the river was high, water was crashing over rather spectacularly). I have to say it doesn't really improve the view at this iconic spot but I suppose the aim - to allow salmon to travel upriver to spawn - perhaps excuses its utilitarian appearance. Maybe one day I'll be able to see a fish leaping there.

 

Christmas is coming

Ho, ho, ho - who is this coming along the canal? Why, it's Santa Claus, of course. It will soon be Christmas, after all. Despite the pandemic, Santa will find a way to visit and bring gifts.

It actually made me feel a bit teary-eyed that people will go to these lengths to bring a little joy to our children, who've all had such a strange and unsettling year. I'm assuming it was organised by volunteers, who decorated a canal boat and cruised from Gallows Bridge boatyard in Shipley, through Saltaire and up to Hirst Lock. There was Christmassy music and a few flakes of snow blowing around, and of course, Santa Claus on his sleigh. There may be little opportunity this year for a visit to Santa in his traditional grotto, so it was a lovely idea to do this. The canal towpath was lined with families, despite it being a chilly and damp day. 

Meanwhile, up in the village, two ladies were busy decorating a Christmas tree outside the Methodist Church.  Hooray for all our community-spirited volunteers.

Small pleasures

I opened the curtains one day and noticed these bright little jewels of leaves for the first time, spraying out from behind the railings of the property opposite. Perhaps it was the way the light was striking them that made them stand out suddenly - or perhaps I was just in a receptive frame of mind. Anyway, later in the day I went across and took a photo. As I crouched down on the pavement, a passing stranger looked at me as though I was nuts but I don't care! 

I keep reading about mindfulness and, in these pandemic days, I have been seeking to cultivate the habit, walking with my eyes and heart open. Thus it was that I observed how the low sun shone through a small shrub by the locks and turned it into a 'burning bush'. 

I spotted these large daisies, beautifully counter-pointed by the rough stone wall behind, still blooming brightly despite it being nearly the end of November.  

In the woods, I spied a little door at the foot of a tree. I always thought there may be elves living in the forest, though I've yet to see one!   

All small pleasures and true joys. 

 

The aqueduct

Repeating the same local walks, with minor variations, for much of this year leaves very little 'new' to photograph though I seek to continue to find things. 

I don't think I've ever shown these two views of the aqueduct that carries the Leeds-Liverpool Canal over the River Aire, about a mile outside of Saltaire. Designed by the famous engineer James Brindley and constructed in 1773, it carries the canal at a height of 9m (30ft) over the river. It has seven arches and, nowadays at least, the river only flows through a few of them. It drops a lot of silt and debris, which has built up over the years and blocked some of the arches.

Now the vegetation on the banks has died back a bit, you can actually get nearer to the river to see the bridge (above). It's quite an amazing piece of engineering. A few years ago they had to drain the canal to do some repairs - see HERE for what that looked like. 

The canal towpath at this point is on the left of the picture below. It takes you across the change-line bridge at Dowley Gap (behind me as I took the photo) and then, taking a little track round the mill buildings at this point, you can access the other side of the canal from below the aqueduct. You can cross the aqueduct bridge on the footway on the right hand side, as you can see from the photo, which means - happily - I can do a circular walk out along the canal and back through Hirst Wood (or vice versa). 

 

Cheer you up yellow

The bottom end of Westgate in Shipley is far from being an attractive 'entrance' to the town centre, but this tree's autumn yellow was doing its best to cheer things up. It's quite a nicely shaped tree too, I think. Funny how sometimes you notice things more than others. I don't usually give the tree more than a glance but I suppose it is rather shouting 'look!'  Further up the street you can see our modernist market hall and its square clock tower - a 'Marmite' (love it or hate it) structure for sure. 

I've looked at clouds from both sides now

I've looked at clouds from both sides now

From up and down and still somehow

It's cloud's illusions I recall

I really don't know clouds at all

I was reminded of that song by Joni Mitchell recently, as I marvelled at the reflections of clouds in the water of the canal on a bright day. I'm not good at recognising cloud types, despite the best efforts of my beloved Geography teacher, who I recall, once took me outside on the way out of our morning assembly to look at a 'mackerel sky'. Well, I know this wasn't a mackerel sky. I think they might be cirrus clouds that presage a change in the weather. 

Grazing heaven

I've mentioned before that Trench Meadows, an area between Saltaire and Shipley Glen, is a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI). It is undeveloped lowland pasture, a nationally rare habitat. In order to keep it properly maintained so that the typical plants, such as Black Knapweed and Devil's Bit Scabious, continue to thrive, it has to be grazed periodically. I don't think cattle are loose in there all the time. I certainly don't remember noticing them when I walked through in the spring. (See HERE) I took that route again recently, and found it just about passable - it gets very muddy in wet weather, with tiny streams running off the hillside. There was a small herd of bullocks grazing, thankfully right over the other side away from the path. After I left the meadow, I walked round and took these pictures leaning over the boundary wall! I'm never that keen on walking through fields with cattle in them, though these looked peaceful enough.