Yarn, Yorkshire and All Manner of Wonderful Things!

Posts tagged ‘local history’

Rosedale East

Ten miles from Pickering is the village of Rosedale Abbey. There is no Abbey just a rather nice parish church which I once visited for Sunday Spires a few years back. There is a pub and a campsite and super riverside cafe selling cream teas. Stock up because we are going exploring. 1 1/2 miles out of Rosedale Abbey on the road to Castleton is a sharp left turn to Upton, otherwise known as Rosedale East.

Pretty and peaceful, the Dale spreads out in front of you. But look closely, because that is not a natural view. Once upon a time this valley ( Dale) was once completely forested. Gradually it was cleared for sheep to graze and the wealthy to shoot grouse. The moorland heather and gorse took over. But look again even closer, notice that there appears to be a ridge or road running along the far side. It’s not a road but the remains of a railway which runs right around the Dale. For this was once the hub of  coal mining and iron works which only stopped production in the 1920’s. Let’s walk.

A few houses remain. This is School Row, now mostly second homes and holiday cottages.

And this is High Row. Again no phone signal here, get stuck and you will need that phone box.

The iron works were very short-lived. This little community went from 558 people in 1851 to 2,839 in 1871,then 1396 in 1901 to 286 in 1961. Each house was occupied by a family and several miners who lodged with them. Everyone else was housed in Rosedale Abbey.

I visited at the end of April, the sun was shining but boy was it windy. Imagine what it must have been like to work there through some really severe winters.

Let’s go on.

This farm stands on the site of what was the iron foreman’s house. The miners had to walk up the track every day past his more luxurious accommodation to go to work. Passing the house on the left the track becomes the old railway line, all that remains of that is a cinder track.

This is what remains of the Coal depot, for this was the end of the railway which transported iron up to North East.

Walking along the top of the Dale now past the Old calcinating Kilns where the iron ore was processed.

The chimney up above is a ventilation shaft for the  coal mines below ground.

Looking back along the way I walked the railway is the lower ridge and the tramway which connected everything is above, by the remains of buildings on the higher level.

Here I paused at the site of a ruined house.

Love the fireplace, and can you imagine the view from the window.

I clambered up to the tramway with numerous rabbits for company to explore the top buildings.

A row of cottages.

Workshops long gone.

Not a bridge to nowhere but the forgotten entrance to a coal mine.

I say a while , just me , the curlews and rabbits. Peaceful and calm. All the noise and busyness gone, but not forgotten. I shall find out more, I am hooked on this place.

So long Rosedale East.

I hope you enjoyed my walk and exploration of quite a different kind of Yorkshire village. And if you ever go yourself, tell the rabbits I sent you.

 

 

 

 

Friday Fences!

I came across this  blog  recently and it is such a great concept I just had to join in! Basically you take a picture of ,or through a fence! As a born nosy ( Sorry naturally curious) person I much prefer fences to walls and tall hedges so you can see the other side, this is something I must applaud! Trouble is I live in a countryside of dry stone walls and hedges, so finding fences is going to be a challenge to equal Sophie’s monthly photo scavenger hunt ! Anyway here is my first Friday fence..

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This fence has it’s own story of neighbour battles and a local community against a new comer landowner. Are you sitting comfortably..

Once upon a time there was a little museum which wanted to expand. A house with some land nearby was to be sold, but the Mighty Local Council was a little slow and the house and land was Sold. The new landowner did not realise that the local community had used a footpath over his land for Years and Years and thought it was a Public Right of Way. The Landowner did not think that his neighbour should have a right of way over his land to get to his field. The fact that his neighbour could not get to his land any other way dd not bother him one whit! Enter the Lawyers and the Planning Authority and finally Common Sense. There is now a public footpath across the lane where the People always thought it was. However the the neighbour has now fenced in his bit of land from the public hence this Fence at the bottom of this hill. He is still in dispute with the Landowner and can’t get into his field except on foot! Meantime just think how popular the Landowner now is in his new community. The moral being- check before you buy land for footpaths in common use!

The story is sad because the little museum is short of space and has had to turn away a really lovely collection of artifacts which can now be seen here instead

Don’t think I will manage a fence every week and certainly not one with a story, but I shall try jolly hard!  Do check out the other fences!

Yarn Along!

I finished the little white matinee jacket at the weekend with three smiley face buttons. I did not like this fiddly pattern and so it has now gone to a charity shop where I hope it is found by someone who likes it.26.6.13 011

As for the book I am reading Parade’s End- well I am half way through now. Teitjans the hero (Benedict Cumberbatch in the TV series) is about to be sent to the front line looking after horses, his wife inexplicably is also in France- she has reminisced about her infidelities and now fancies the pants off her husband who couldn’t care a fig for her as long as she looks after their son and is not a disgrace! So nothing has happened really since last week. But it is very good for bedtime reading.

So what’s new..

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I have three lovely sons and two gorgeous grandsons and Miss J who was three when I became her step grandmother, but I have not known the joy of a baby granddaughter. Now there is apparently an 85% chance that the new little somebody is a Girl. All think PINK now. If my son and daughter in law can talk about their new daughter then I am chancing a few Pink knits. This is Sirdar Crofter and I have done the back and two fronts!

As for the book. Well I treated myself to a Kindle this year, which now contains some holiday reading, but somehow I can’t get out of the habit of looking at books in charity shops, and indeed some books are cheaper second hand  than those for a Kindle. And some I guess will never be available on a Kindle. Like the one in the picture. It is called “The Way We Were”, By R.W.Scales. Published in 1987, Mr Scales has trawled the pages of a local paper called the Malton Messenger. The newspaper is no more. The period covered in the book is 1854-1939. Infinitely more amusing and so interesting of times gone by than Parade’s End. Real Yarns!

I have three extracts for you..

1856 Pheasant Shooting

About daybreak one morning last week a certain sporting gentleman in Pickering was aroused out of his slumbers by a neighbour to come and shoot a pheasant which was perched on the top of the Independent Chapel in Hungate. After dressing, the double barrelled gun was procured and loaded and on arriving at the place where the game was, it was pronounced by the sportsman to be a cock bird. True aim being taken, bang,bang went the gun, down fell the game into the yard and on being picked up proved to be the old hen belonging to Mr S Simpson of the George Inn.

Mr Simpson’s reaction is not given.. but fancy giving space to this simple tale. The George Inn is no more but the Chapel is..

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Fifty years or so later  my Grandparents were married here.

1856 New school

The Wesleyans of Pickering have purchased a piece of ground near the end of Westgate on which they intend to build a National School , it is reported that the entire cost of the ground and building is expected to amount to £600.

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Here’s the school, still standing. I went there from the age of 6 to 10! It’s now a working men’s club. Somehow I don’t think the Wesleyans would have approved of the change of use.

1855  Wife Sale

The antiquated and disgraceful farce of selling a wife has taken place in Thirsk within the last few days, a blooming young woman, the wife of Mr W Marshall of Wombleton near Kirkbymoorside was led in a halter to the cross and there sold for2/6d. Mr Marshall was 54 years old when he married and Mrs Marshall only 19, they had lived happily together for 16 years and then agreed between them that the knot of wedlock should be severed and an agreement drawn up, after which she was sold to Mr John Webster of Oswaldkirk.

It still seems incredible to me that wife selling really happened.

Linking in with Frontier Dreams

and Ginny for Yarn Along

And looking forward to seeing what others have been making and reading. Do leave a comment they are the best bits.

PS Think PINK!

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