2010

Skipwith Common was officially recognised as a National Nature Reserve in December 2009, and as I’ve been visiting here for years, I thought it was about time I got around to including it on this site, in honour of its new official designation.

This is a special place, a varied landscape, never dull. Most obvious are the four-footed creatures – cattle and sheep and ponies, among areas of wide open space and in the more enclosed wooded parts.

I first visited here in the 1970s as a child, with my dad. I realise now, in hindsight, that the airfield remains buried within Skipwith Common were probably one of the things that made it an interesting destination for him. For me, I do remember the weirdness of the mounds of earth and the remnants of brick buildings, but I was oblivious to the fact that we were walking for part of the time along old runways.

In the early years of the Second World War, airfields were constructed all over Yorkshire, and RAF Riccall occupied part of the area now known as Skipwith Common. Visiting more recently, with more awareness of the importance of the remnants of World War Two airfields, I’ve found myself searching the area marked on the OS map as a ‘Camp Site (disused)’, and found brick buildings with small windows almost lost in undergrowth, hidden by trees that have grown much taller in the intervening years. Nature reclaims what we forget.

It’s an ancient, multi-layered landscape, always being added to. The common has earthworks and burial mounds from the Iron Age and Bronze Age. Though it seems wild in parts and like it would have been centuries ago, with trees and boggy places and bracken, in other parts are the remnants of 20th century conflict, in another area 21st century boardwalks and a viewing platform, and a memorial constructed in 2010. Cattle line up to drink at the ditches, in scenes that could be almost medieval if it weren’t for the plastic pipe outlets, and dark-woolled sheep meander through the undergrowth, leaving fragments of brown fleece on the branches.

Map and further information

View Skipwith Common – National Nature Reserve in a larger map

View a route around the Common: OS Explore – Skipwith Common wander

Also on this site: the Riccall airfield memorial at Skipwith Common

England’s newest nature reserve cleared for take-off – Natural England

Friends of Skipwith Common – their page on the history of the common may be of interest, and the site also has news of events taking place.

The post Skipwith Common appeared first on York Stories.

21 July 2006

Up on the cliffs above the beach, in front of the handsome old Crescent buildings, I found a splendid area of park and planting. Then, further into the town, a few photos of things observed.

This bandstand stands in the middle of a large formal park. The park’s flowerbeds were full of bedding plants, arranged in conventional blocks of colour. I don’t normally like this kind of thing, and on roundabouts it looks silly. But here it looked perfect, stunning in fact. No doubt helped by the summer’s good weather, but I imagine this takes a lot of thought and a lot of maintenance.

Behind the park area with its bandstand is The Crescent, visible on this photo – six stuccoed blocks of elegant accommodation, the first of which was built in 1840-1. The Pevsner guide says that The Crescent "is what made Filey and it still today gives the town its distinctive and refined character."

The bandstand was an unexpectedly moving place. Inside, around the roof, are scores of small plaques, commemorating loved ones. I imagine that perhaps donations were given to make this place, in memory of local residents and visitors who came here for holidays. "Frank thought Everything and Everyone in Filey was "beautiful", read one of them. Isn’t it embarrassing when you’re in a public place and read something that makes you cry. Fortunately the only people who could see me where a group of senior citizens sitting nearby, and they were busy making arrangements on a mobile phone.

This photo was taken from inside the bandstand looking out, across the bright bedding plants and the tidy lawns of the park, to the benches, with the sea and the coastline visible in the distance.

There’s even an ornamental pond, with fish and water lilies. With all these things of a relaxing nature to look at – the flowers, the fish, the green of the park and the blue of the sea, I can’t imagine that anyone in Filey is suffering from stress-related problems. I guess it might be boring if you’re an adolescent – just the kind of place that would make you want to move to London or Leeds. But I bet you’d come back.

You may be surprised to see these vegetables above appearing in the middle of this page about Filey’s parks and buildings – just as I was surprised when I discovered this unusual bit of municipal planting in the midst of otherwise conventional bedding schemes. One bed in the park had been given over to growing ornamental vegetables, with a helpful sign explaining the project.

They looked fantastic – helped no doubt by the good weather, and the fact that weeks of dry sunny days has kept the slugs and snails away. The lush and colourful leaves of chard (above left) and what I think is an ornamental cabbage (above right) were perfect, untouched by pests.

I always noticed things like this about a place, but it’s only now I’m carrying a digital camera that I can record them. Here, two very different signs painted. One on old stone, one on a more modern rendered wall. Northcliffe’s gateway is very grand. The house was designed by Brierley, a well-known architect who designed many of York’s Victorian board schools.

Just up the road, in a side street, an old and faded painted advert for a Ladies and Gentlemens Hairdresser.

Further up the road into the town, Filey’s war memorial – a garden with a stone gateway, which is inscribed "In honour of the men of Filey who died for their country in the two World Wars". Inside there are more well-kept flowerbeds, bright under the summer sun.

In the course of compiling these pages and looking at buildings I’ve developed a couple of particular passions – firstly, for nonconformist chapels, and secondly, for railway-related things, particularly small railway stations and abandoned railway lines.

Filey’s line isn’t abandoned, but it isn’t exactly busy. There was only one person on the platform waiting for the late afternoon train. Still, at least the town still has a railway service.

This is the handsome entrance to Filey station, designed by G T Andrews. The station, says Pevsner, is "Andrews at his best". G T Andrews was a busy architect in the middle of the 19th century. This station was built in 1846, five years or so after the opening of Andrews’ station at York (now railway offices on Tanner Row).

Later alterations to Filey station were made in 1865 by Thomas Prosser, who was also the architect who submitted the initial designs for York’s second railway station (the current station).

I’m not sure which architect was responsible for the bridge – a good-looking iron structure – but it looks like it might be a later addition, from the way it goes rather oddly through the brick wall on the opposite platform.

The station buildings seemed a shadow of their former selves, much changed since the enthusiastic expansion of the railways in the mid-nineteenth century. A bygone age was best summed up by the area to one side of the station, where among the weeds this still rather pleasing brick and stone building remains. At one time, I think, it supported the iron water tank, which held the water for the steam trains. Some of these structures remain close to Victorian stations, but as far as I can see, most lost their tanks long ago.

Next to the water tank building, between it and the main body of the station, are these gates. Looking closely, I noticed that they’re sliding gates, with sections that move on wheels that at one time ran in grooves. The tracks are silted up, and the gates look like they haven’t moved for a long time.

Still handsome though, and more ornate than they need to be, just like the small building above that supported the water tank. Both illustrate how the Victorians felt about their railways, whereas the emptiness of the station on the day I visited probably illustrates how we feel about the railways now.

I’ve just checked, and apparently you can get from York to Filey in just over an hour by train (depending on the service – some take longer), changing once at Seamer. Though, like most people, we came by car.

We’ve visited Filey a few times in recent years, but this was the first time I’d taken my camera, and the first time I’d taken notice of historical and architectural details. It’s interesting to see how towns developed when the railways brought new visitors to them, and how even in the Victorian period, tourists were looking for new destinations, perhaps quieter ones, more genteel. Filey has had to change to keep up with changing tastes, but thankfully it hasn’t filled its seafront with ugly old tat. It’s a fine place, still, two hundred years after the mention of its charms in the Gentleman’s Magazine.

More information

Bill L’s website | A brief history of Filey | www.fileybay.com | Cobles of the East Coast

The post Filey /2 appeared first on York Stories.

21 July 2006

I don’t remember ever coming here as a child, but as an adult I’ve certainly appreciated Filey as a seaside destination. On a quiet weekday afternoon, during the heatwave in July 2006, it was the perfect place to be. This wasn’t a walk with a particular route – we just wandered. But thought I’d share some photos and thoughts.

It seemed that there were some rules on the beach about where dogs were allowed and not allowed. Wherever they are allowed they go all giddy and excited and run in and out of the sea in a mad way. When we first discovered the delights of Filey a couple of summers ago, the dogs on the beach were so entertaining that whenever we visit Filey now we look for them. When I think of Filey I think of dogs of all shapes and sizes dashing into the waves and up and down the beach.

As a cat owner, I see this kind of excitability only every now and then, when our cat has a "mad half hour". Dogs seem to be like this all the time, whenever they’re out and about. It’s a great antidote to stress, watching the dogs on Filey beach. It’s particularly nice when you’re not the owner and you haven’t got the responsibility of worrying about where they do their toileting. I didn’t notice any dog do anywhere in Filey – the owners must all be considerate and tidy people, armed with plastic bags and poop scoops.

And of course there are people too. Walking, sunbathing, or flying kites. This young chap was an apparent master of kite-flying. While at the other end of the beach, young ladies were promenading, as they might have done in this resort’s Edwardian heyday. Though these days young ladies show a bit more leg.

Being a serious student of architecture (well, I felt like one – I took my Pevsner guide to the beach with me), I was interested in the buildings and the history of the town. My Pevsner guide didn’t mention these – which appear to be beach huts – but whoever chose the paint and painted them deserves a mention. Those blue touches and the nice calm cream paintwork forms a lovely composition against the green behind and the shingle in front. They’re mainly unoccupied, it seems, but then this is the North Sea coast.

Filey is one of those resorts that developed rapidly after the railways reached it in the mid-19th century, though as early as 1805 it was noted as a rather classy seaside destination. It’s still classy, two hundred years later, which is no mean feat.

In 1801 it had a population of around 500. The railway linking it to York and Hull opened in 1846-7, and by 1851 the population was 1,1511. It must have been a place for discriminating folks, as Charlotte Bronte visited here twice in the mid-19th century.

Its heyday was the period just before the First World War. The Pevsner guide says of Filey: "unlike East Yorkshire’s other seaside towns, it has neither decayed nor become totally commercialized and it has to some extent retained the air of an Edwardian resort."

These ladies were walking along the seafront as we were sitting on one of the many benches. Apart from the style of their clothes, and the tarmac they’re walking on, this could be 100 years ago.

In recent times, Filey’s population has been around 7,000. Nowadays many of its residents depend for their livelihood on the day visitors, like us.

Living in York as I do I know what it’s like to be a resident of a tourist-oriented place. It means some positives, and some negatives. One of the positives is that the local authority has to think about how the place looks, so that it impresses its visitors. Everything here looked clean and well-maintained.

This couple were strolling along the seafront by the railings, with the beach and the waves and the curve of the bay stretching out before them.

The left hand view shows the sandy beach, with a curved wall behind it. The curved part houses a paddling pool at the top, which looked as clean and well-kept as everything else around here. What a brilliant idea to put a paddling pool here, overlooking the bay, so that it isn’t just a place for children to play, but for adults who are supervising them to have a proper view of the beach and the sea.

And if you were going out to sea, you’d need a boat. Here are a couple of handsome examples I spotted earlier, up at the other end of the bay. Ebbing and Flowing, and Morning Mist. In this case we’re not sailing off onto the high seas, but walking up the path from the beach, towards the Crescent, the flowers and the town.

The post Filey /1 appeared first on York Stories.

23 May 2006

This Triton, blowing on his conch shell, is on the gatepost to the church in Sledmere. He’s one of many fascinating sculptural elements in this much-admired estate village. There are so many things to see in Sledmere that I’ve had to include several pages on the various memorials – see the links at the bottom of the page. This page has photos from the village, and the deer park, which is open to the public via a permissive path.

Having visited Sledmere’s village, and admired the delights of its surroundings, I have a high regard for its handsomeness, and a much higher opinion of rich landowners (previously not fondly thought of, because of the large chip on my working-class shoulders).

This section of road, with its extremely handsome well/memorial has been pictured far more impressively in David Hockney’s painting ‘The Road to York through Sledmere’.

I’ve included another page on the monument to Sir Christopher Sykes.

A wander along the road through the village reveals many architectural details those who are driving through might not notice. Left – from the top of the well/monument mentioned above. Right, a spirelet on the roof of the school.

The school, above left, dates from 1874-5, and was designed by G E Street, with a later addition by Temple Moore. Much plainer – but still handsome – is the Methodist chapel, dating from 1889, by William Petch.

There’s a satisfying neatness and order in Sledmere – it’s a very well-kept place. One of the things I noticed was the paint colour. The Triton on the photo above left is at the entrance to Sledmere House, but the red guttering behind him is repeated on the guttering of the less substantial houses on the other side of the street, and on the village noticeboard.

We were here not just to look at the village, but to follow a short circular walk through the deer park and other parts of the Sledmere House grounds. As we approached the deer park we noticed warning signs:

"WARNING
The Stags are rutting
The Stags have been de-antlered but still get quite excited at this time of year." [don’t we all – it’s May, it’s all green and everything!] "They do not normally become aggressive with humans but should be treated with caution and reserve."

And here we are. Oh deer, oh deer, oh deer, oh deer. Lovely, aren’t they. Though we did notice that one at least hadn’t been de-antlered, and we kept our distance.

They were reacting to our presence with caution and reserve, and we reacted similarly, respecting their dearness/deerness.

As we walked across the park, the number of deer became apparent, as did the fact that every single one of the assembled throng was apparently checking us out, as friend or foe.

It’s quite a spectacle, so many deer eyes looking at you, and so many deer ears all upright and pointing in the same direction. Unfortunately I don’t think this photo fully conveys their dear ears and dear eyes, as I was at some distance, not wanting to frighten them.

And the deer have a house – here it is. Another handsome building, obviously created and located with aesthetic principles in mind. I just thought it was one of those impressive eyecatchers you find near country houses, but the Pevsner guide calls it the Deer House. I’m not sure if the deer still use it, and what they do when they’re there (Watch the TV? Have parties? Have deer friends round for dinner?)

And I almost forgot to mention, having been distracted by the huge deer gathering, that earlier during our wander through the park, we had a marvellous view of Sledmere House itself. The present house was begun in 1751 by Richard Sykes, later extended in the 1790s by Sir Christopher Sykes. It is open to the public for part of the year – for details see the Sledmere House website.

The path curves round back towards the road, and for a time runs parallel to it, along a beautiful tree-lined track.

Walking along this track, in late May, with the trees in their green perfection, is one of my favourite memories of Sledmere. Those past landowners who planted the trees wouldn’t have been around to see them fully grown. But their descendants, and, happily, the rest of us too, can now walk among them.

More pages on Sledmere

There are several handsome and fascinating monuments, including the well memorial mentioned above. I’ve covered these elements on separate pages. See: more about the Sykes well memorial, the Waggoners memorial, and the Eleanor Cross. In the grounds we walked through there is also a monument to the Sykes family’s dogs.

More information

Though charges are payable to visit Sledmere House itself, there is a permissive path allowing public access through the grounds, including the deer park. Note that high stiles at the edges of the deer park may make access difficult for some visitors. The route, and many others of interest, is included in a lovely little book in the Jarrold Short Walks series: In and Around the Vale of York: Leisure Walks for All Ages.

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18 August 2005

3 – Wandering on the Wolds

It was evening by the time we’d looked around Wharram Percy and St Martin’s Church. The remainder of the walk followed a route high in the Wolds, across fields and along a narrow road.

Though
cultivated plants in gardens are generally still full of flower in August,
the wilder landscape showed many signs of the approaching autumn. The wildflowers
and grasses throughout our walk were noticeably full of seedheads, and the
general impression was of green turning to autumn’s shades of brown and
gold.

This
part of the walk took us along the top of Deep Dale, where the sun was setting
over the fields on the other side of the valley. The sun was rather hazy,
again giving an impression of autumn. Hawthorn trees were full of berries
already red, and a flock of birds flew ahead of us, from tree to tree. Apart
from the birds it was still and silent.

6.30
– the dale in the evening sunlight. There were cattle grazing at the bottom
of the valley, and evidence of human habitation in the ploughed fields on
the other side of the dale, but otherwise it felt like we were in the remotest
place, or in another age – perhaps the time of the medieval villagers of
Wharram Percy.

The route of the walk took us away from Deep Dale where it bends to the
right. We took a left, over a stile into a field. This photo shows the view
looking west, back to Deep Dale. It’s not often that I’ve been out walking
in the countryside so late in the day, but our late start on this walk meant
we saw this area in the evening sun, which seemed to highlight the contours
of the land.

Perhaps because of the effect of the light, or perhaps because
we’d seen the remains of Wharram Percy, all the history in this landscape
seemed more obvious – and more meaningful – than usual.

At
the edges of the field, a few poppies were bright against the green grass,
and even more brilliant with the low sun behind them.

Looking
back still, towards the west, as we followed the path along the edge of
the field. The field was full of mature crops, presumably waiting for harvest.
Elsewhere the harvesters were busy in the fields we had passed, but we were
glad that this field hadn’t yet been cleared, as the golden corn reflected
the late sun.

All through this walk I’d been conscious of how many farmers were working
hard on the land, bringing in crops that would feed us. Though it’s easy
to forget the food producers when we’re grabbing our products off the shelves
at Tesco.

It’s
rather beautiful, in close-up, isn’t it? A whole field of this was waving
around, giving a general impression of abundance, and I realised how much
we take all this for granted. I also realised that I’m not very clued-up
about cereal crops. I thought this was wheat, but think that it’s probably
barley. I found a couple of interesting websites full of information on
agriculture, helpful for townies like me – details at the foot of the page.

The
path left the field and skirted a piece of woodland, within which, the OS
map told us, are air shafts. We thought we discovered one, near the edge of the wood, as an area was fenced off as dangerous. It was all rather overgrown, so it wasn’t possible to see anything interesting, but we were looking for these features because they are apparently air shafts for the Burdale Tunnel, which emerges some way further along to the south. The tunnel – now abandoned – carried the railway line, part of which we walked on page 1.

The Pevsner guide brought the existence of the Burdale Tunnel to my attention. It says that the tunnel, just over a mile in length, was constructed in 1847-53, and is ‘a remarkable piece of Victorian civil engineering’. Though remarkable, it is no longer visible, and has gone the way of so many other feats of Victorian railway engineering.

As
we left the field and wooded area this waymarker was noted on the fence
post. I realised that this is yet another long distance walk that I hadn’t
been aware of. A quick Google brought me to The
Chalkland Way home page, which explains that this route is a 40-mile
circular walk across the Wolds. I was glad we weren’t doing all 40 miles
of it, but were hoping to be back at the car in less than 2. (I realise I’m starting to sound a bit grumpy, but we’ve been out here for hours, I’m a bit tired, and it feels like the next part of the walk will be a bit dull.)

Most
of the rest of the route was along this narrow road across the top of the
Wolds. The view is probably an uplifting one usually, but the light was
rather poor and hazy by this stage, so the distant vistas were lost to us.
All we could see was a road stretching on apparently forever, with flat
fields on either side, and the occasional telegraph pole. This is the view
looking back along the road, but the view in front was exactly the same.

It
could have seemed rather dull after the interesting landscape at Wharram
Percy. But the sunset over the fields enlivened the view. The road ahead
seemed endless – we could see it stretching on over the brow of the next
hill some distance away, and I began to wonder what it would have been like
for the travellers of old.

The crops here had been harvested, and only the stubble of stalks remained. Between them wandered large flocks of birds – young or female pheasants we thought – and on hearing our approach they squawked and grumbled and dashed off away from us, across the sunset fields.

After their sudden noise, everything would fall silent again, with only the sounds of our footsteps on the road.

At last, as the road bent round to the right, our path took us straight ahead
into a field, on the other side of which was the road where we started our
walk, at Wharram-le-Street. As we crossed the field at the edge I noticed
the hedgerow, and particularly this rather beautiful berried shrub, which
was the only bright thing in the rather dull dusk-darkened landscape. I
think it’s a viburnum. Its berries end up very red, after turning an interesting
range of intermediate shades. Beautiful thing.

Route info and maps

Distance: 4 miles approx.

Route: I’ve plotted this route on a Google map. See ‘Wharram and the Wolds’ walk.

Or see: OS map for this walk (extract from OS Explorer 300 – Howardian Hills &
Malton)

Alternatively: If you don’t fancy the whole
trek, but want to see Wharram Percy, it can be reached via a shorter walk
from a designated car park closer to the site. See the English
Heritage Wharram Percy site information for more details.

UK
Agriculture is an interesting website that has been set up to ‘promote greater public understanding of the role of agriculture in the countryside’ and to protect and conserve the countryside.

Yorkshire Wolds Way – part of
this walk follows this long-distance route.

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18 August 2005

2 – St Martin’s, Wharram Percy

This ruined church remains as a reminder of the lost village.

Archaeologists’ excavations revealed how the church changed shape and size over the centuries, at one stage reflecting the need of the community for a larger place of worship, then shrinking again. Now mainly open to the elements, its remaining stonework also shows the changes and developments over the years, and how materials were reused or altered.

Even though the weather was cloudy at the point when these photographs were taken, the light still pours in to the interior of the church, as there’s no roof to keep it out. I found it, in many ways, far more beautiful than the usual church interior, as the stonework could be seen more easily, and it seemed more ‘godly’ because of the simplicity of stone and sky. It felt more spiritually significant than other churches with the more usual roof. Perhaps all churches should be open to the sky. (Though this of course wouldn’t suit the congregation or the furnishings.)

I’m not a practising Christian but I love churches, and the way they are dotted around the landscape, even in the tiniest villages. Ruined churches – when preserved and cared for, are perhaps even more meaningful. A constant, through all the changes in the landscape, that we strive to hang on to, even when they’re officially ‘redundant’. In this church, as I read the information board about the changes over the centuries, the way the church grew, then shrunk, I could picture the flow of people through this building over the centuries, as populations rose and fell.

My attention was drawn to these extremely handsome wooden doors, which had obviously been recently made, and from the smell, perhaps also recently treated with woodstain. It seemed odd to have a pair of wooden doors in a building with no roof and no glass in the windows, but they certainly enhanced the old church, being so beautifully made.

Above, right: one of the doors is shown next to the partly tumbled-down tower of the church. They were so solid and heavy, but I was determined to capture the image of the handsome door next to the tower, and finally achieved this by propping it open with my foot and balancing precariously on one leg. Not a position generally conducive to taking an unblurred photograph, but thankfully it worked.

Left: the exterior of the church tower. The Pevsner guide tells me that by 1949 the church had stopped being used for services, and that a storm in 1959 caused the collapse of this tower.

Right: detail from the interior, of one of the (now unglazed) windows.

We leave the old village via the path taking us past the mill pond. This view, looking back, shows St Martin’s church in the distance. The rest of our walk, described on the following page, takes us along the edge of the beautiful Deep Dale, by arable fields, and back to Wharram-le-Street on a narrow Wolds road.

Route info and maps

Distance: 4 miles approx.

Route: I’ve plotted this route on a Google map. See ‘Wharram and the Wolds’ walk.

Or see: OS map for this walk (extract from OS Explorer 300 – Howardian Hills & Malton)

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