Floodwater on Rawcliffe Meadows and Clifton ings, 21 Jan 2021

The ings are doing their thing, as the city does its best to deal with another deluge.

Weather conditions permitting, I’m trying to get out for a walk most days, as it feels more important than ever to get exercise and fresh air, rather than sitting inside staring at a screen and getting drawn in to ‘doomscrolling‘.

Today, in welcome sunshine, I headed out of town up Shipton Road, as I often do. Having seen photos online of the flood levels in the city centre I was curious to see how the situation compared with last February (as mentioned in my 2020 review of the year).

The Clifton and Rawcliffe area of York, my local area, is up river on the Ouse, and the land here on the ings by the river Ouse takes in a lot of water, which therefore means less water down river, in the city centre.

It’s not the focus of a lot of attention, as most images in the media focus on the height of the floodwaters by the city centre bridges, or King’s Staith. This time, as always, it’s important to see different perspectives.

It wasn’t as bad as I was expecting, down here on the flood bank. The water levels at around 3.30pm, today:

Rawcliffe Meadows, from the flood bank near Shipton Road, late afternoon, 21 Jan 2021

Compared to the same stretch of flood bank (from a slightly different angle) back in February 2020:

Rawcliffe Meadows, from the flood bank near Shipton Road, late afternoon, 24 Feb 2020

Many people were out walking, or running, many more people than I used to see here, and dogs in particular seemed to be enjoying the shallower areas of water.

From the flood bank, Rawcliffe Meadows, 21 Jan 2021

When I walked along here in February last year the volume of water and the speed (and sound) of it was quite striking/threatening, and I wanted to get off the flood bank as quickly as I could. Today, in bright sunshine, in a welcome escape from the general miseries of the current time, it felt quite different.

Another comparison – looking back the other way, pictured below, today and last February. On the left is the water from the overflowing Ouse, on the right a reservoir area that Blue Beck runs through.

Water on both sides, but not as much as in Feb 2020

2020, February, reservoir basin and river Ouse waters

I arrived back home feeling quite cheered up/warmed/optimistic – as much as it’s possible to be, in the current situation. Everyone else I passed was I hope benefiting from it too.

Then, back at my desk, checking on the flood updates etc, I saw warnings not to walk on the ings in this area, because of overtopping of the defences. I’d just got back from walking along some of them and had seen no breaches, nothing near.

It probably needs to be clarified that there are two lines of floodbanks in the Clifton/Rawcliffe area. One is right by the river – the flood bank that has had some incursion from the river over the top of it, today, apparently.

The other is the one I walked along this afternoon, the one that is pictured above. It’s some distance from the river. As I’ve been here a while I know the best access points that aren’t a sea of mud. I wouldn’t recommend visiting if you don’t.

Flood levels hadn’t quite peaked at the time of writing. But hopefully enough spare capacity here and elsewhere to contain most of the flow.

A lot more could be said, and probably needs to be, but more on that story later perhaps.

. . . . .

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York Minster across flooded Ouse, from Water End, 27 Dec 2015

I went for a short wander yesterday, Sunday, going back to the Ouse to see how the ings lands were looking after the floods. The photo above was taken on Sunday 27 Dec, and featured on an earlier page. The photo below was taken from the same place on Sunday 10 January, two weeks later.

York Minster across flooded Ouse, from Water End, 10 Jan 2016

As we can see, the waters have retreated here on the Leeman Road side, enough for people to be out walking their dogs in what looked like a lake two weeks ago. The Ouse though is still beyond its usual banks. In normal conditions the strip of dry land pictured below has the Ouse to the left of it, rather than to the left and the right.

Ouse on left, floods on right, from Clifton Bridge, 10 Jan 2016

If we cross the road at Water End and look out across the ings and the Ouse the other way (looking out of town, upstream) there’s still a lot of floodwater. It doesn’t seem to have dropped much, over the course of a fortnight.

In the photo below, the green strip across the middle of the photo is the floodbank created to hold in water from the overflowing Ouse, to reduce the levels downstream, as discussed on a page some years ago. On 27 December, standing here on Water End, I could barely see the floodbank, which appeared to have so much water behind it that some of it looked to be spilling back over. So the level has dropped a bit, but not much. Not as much as I expected it might have, after a fortnight.

The white dots on the water are gulls. They often congregate on these watery ings lands, in times of flood.

Clifton riverside and ings, from Water End, 10 Jan 2016

I wanted to have a bit of walk, having been ill and indoors too much recently. I was hoping it might be possible to access the riverside pathways, down by Clifton Bridge. It hadn’t been possible on 27 December, as the bottom of the slope leading to those paths looked like this (taken from up on the bridge, looking down):

Floodwater on riverside paths near Clifton Bridge, 27 Dec 2015

On 10 Jan, two weeks on, I was able to walk down and stand where those floodwaters had been. Looking at the riverside path towards town, it was clear that levels hadn’t dropped dramatically enough for me to take a stroll that way.

It’s retreating, but not much. Floodwater on riverside paths by Clifton Bridge, 10 Jan 2016

Water under the bridge … as is usually the case when the river’s high, but thankfully the gate on the higher part was open. Hurrah, let’s see how far we can get along the riverside path.

Under Clifton Bridge: nice to see that gate open in the dry part

All bright in the late afternoon sun, muted winter colours, dry path leading onwards, all looking good …

Looking good …

… but not for long. Seconds later, the dry path becomes another watery place. River to the left, and river on the path. How disappointing. I guess I’ll have to turn back.

… Looking wet …

I didn’t turn back though, as an alternative route suggested itself.

I’ve walked and cycled along here many times over the years. To the right of the tarmac path there are trees and a tangle of ivy and other vegetation, and land rising up away from the river. It’s just a thin strip of land, left to go wild.

Through the carpet of ivy on this bank there are a few narrow muddy tracks leading upwards away from the river. I’ve been vaguely curious about them, but never curious enough to climb up there. This afternoon, with floodwater preventing further progress on the normal path, I thought I would.

Time to venture up the track up the bank, through the ivy

Clambering up the slope into the ivy and trees I walked along this higher level path, littered with the usual rubbish, all unkempt, but clearly fairly well-used, the litter suggested.

Then I noticed this rusty old thing.

Rusty relic by the track

Bent and collapsing, it was still recognisable as a railing, a simple guard rail, on the outside of the path where the land dropped down to the lower path and the river beyond. Apparently used a long time ago, in an age before littering pleasant places with empty lager cans became common practice.

The path went on for only a short stretch, behind the playground of the Homestead Park, visible through a wire fence, then dropped down again, back to the floods. No further progress possible. I just stood there a while and looked out across the watery expanse, towards Holgate and Acomb, the water tower just visible in the distance through the winter trees.

View across floodwaters of the Ouse, 3.20pm, 10 Jan 2016

Then headed back. Passing another rusty remnant of guard rail, forgotten and redundant in the ivy and shrubbery, under trees mature enough perhaps to have been there when this path was well-used enough to need a guard rail, before the lower level tarmac path took over as the preferred route.

Another rusty old relic

Descending to the tarmac path I met a man and his son out for a bike ride, heading out of town, as I’d tried to. He asked if they could get through ahead. I looked doubtful and said I didn’t think so, that I hadn’t been able to, they might be able to on bikes. The son urged his dad to have a go. I sounded like a nannying fussbucket perhaps, cautioning against endangering themselves, though said with a laugh. The man said, as they cycled off, ‘it’s only a bit of water’. They soon reappeared, presumably realising that it was more than a bit of water, and really quite a lot of water. I was still standing on the path, looking up at what would have been the course of that higher-level walkway, trying to imagine how it worked, where it started, before the massive concrete structure we know as Clifton Bridge appeared here, cutting through the old landscape, bridging the river, in the 1960s.

When I got home, I looked for images I remember seeing before, of Water End on the Clifton side, before the bridge was built. Here’s one, from around 100 years ago.

Before the bridge: looking down towards the Ouse from Water End in Clifton (Photo: Explore York Libraries and Archives

If we were standing in the same place now we’d have Clifton Bridge stretching out before us. The slope down to the river is still there, to the left of Clifton Bridge. To the left of that, the tall brick wall is still there, as pictured on photos above. The slope here used to lead to the ferry, taking people across the river to the Leeman Road side.

On the right of the photo, a pathway bends round to the right, with a plain iron guardrail, two horizontal bars between uprights. Leading to what must have been a very pleasant riverside promenade high up and still accessible in times of flood. Rusty remnants of its railings still there in the trees.

Many years ago I did some family history research and found that ancestors on my dad’s side lived here in Clifton at the turn of the 19th century, in housing that was cleared to make Clifton Dale, then in Abbey Street. One of my great-grandmothers lived there for decades, into her 90s. I didn’t know that when I moved to the Clifton area 25 years ago, but I’ve always felt at home here, and have since wondered if that has something to do with it.

When I saw the rusted redundant railing on a forgotten walkway above the Ouse I thought about how you can live in a place for so long and still have new things to find, when forced from the usual ways and the beaten track. And thought about all the people back then walking this way, how our tracks through the ivy still lead to the old way, where they walked. Only though when sitting down to write this did I think about my own family history and the Welbys in Clifton, and how they might have walked along here when the railings weren’t rusting and the ferry took people over the river.

So many layers. And that’s why I keep writing these York Stories, even though it makes no money and sometimes feels like a waste of time and effort. Sometimes it flows, just like the river, and it seems best to go with it, when it does.

Lisa

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‘Floods remove summer bandstand’ — Yorkshire Evening Press, 30 Dec 1978

It may be time to leave the subject of the floods, for a while. But before we do, I can’t leave the 1970s newspaper without mentioning a couple of other things reported in that edition of the Yorkshire Evening Press of 30 December 1978.

Bandstand ‘took a hand in deciding its own fate’

I’m sure we all remember the bandstand dispute of 1978 …

Under the headline ‘Floods remove summer bandstand’ the YEP reported:

York’s summer bandstand in the Museum Gardens — subject of a shall – we – take – it – down – and – store – or – leave – it – up – all – year – round dispute — took a hand in deciding its own fate yesterday (Friday).

When North Yorkshire County Council’s Yorkshire Museum Sub-Committee arrived at the Museum for a meeting yesterday, they found the bandstand floating off in flood water, into the swollen Ouse.

“There is grave doubt if it will be found at all after the floods,” committee member Coun. W. E. Lockwood told the Evening Press after the meeting.

“But, if it is, the Yorkshire Philosophical Museum feel very strongly that it should be allowed to be placed somewhere in the gardens for this coming summer. But that they would like proper arrangements to be made for its removal and proper storage each year at the end of the season.”

Several paragraphs follow, detailing the dispute. The Sub-Committee were considering the conflicting views. ‘Now, they will wait to see whether the bone of contention surfaces again after the floods.’ The Hospitium in the Museum Gardens was under four feet of water, and ‘the bandstand was seen banging against the windows before it went over the railings.’

Squirrels: the new star attractions

The piece continues with the proceedings of North Yorkshire County Council’s Yorkshire Museum Sub-Committee meeting:

Not lost in the flood were about a dozen grey squirrels which have recently taken up residence in the Museum Gardens. These, the Sub-Committee heard from the Curator, Mr. Michael Clegg, “have rapidly become star attractions to the public.”

Mrs Mary Pierce, a museum cleaner, had struck up a rapport with the squirrels. There had been educational benefits, as Mrs Pierce had ‘laid on a squirrel performance’.

The paper reported that ‘the peacocks, including the two 1978 hatchlings, now have competition.’ And members were told that the squirrels will not damage the Museum’s trees. But there were concerns that if they get too tame they may damage some of York’s tourists, by leaping onto the shoulders of visitors, expecting a fuss, whereupon nervous visitors might shake them off, and the squirrels might ‘get nervous themselves, and inflict a bite.’

. . . . . .

Did the bandstand ever come back? If it did, was the store it/leave it out all year bandstand dispute ever resolved? Was anyone ever bitten by the squirrels? I’ll leave these questions with you, dear readers.

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Yorkshire Evening Press, 30 Dec 1978: SIEGE OF YORK reports on severe floods

The recent floods have been said to be ‘the worst since 1982′, because of the Foss barrier failure. The severe floods of 1982 followed severe floods of only four years earlier. This old Yorkshire Evening Press I have (discussed on a page a few years back, and pictured above) reports on the floods of December 1978, before any of the defences we’re now familiar with were constructed. The Leeman Road area suffered badly.

The caption reads: ‘Just like a canal … A bird’s eye view of Salisbury Terrace (foreground) and Salisbury Road, leading to the junction with Landing Lane and Water End, York. In the background are the swollen River Ouse and Clifton Ings. Many families are living upstairs in the snow-capped homes, without electricity or gas.’

Looking surprisingly cheery in the circumstances, these men in a boat on the temporary river of Salisbury Road (with Water End junction in the background):

I mentioned on the previous page an interesting study from the early 1990s: Public perception of rivers and flood defence (345/2/T) : flooding and flood defences in York by S M Tapsell, S M Tunstall and M Fordham.

It reminds us, at a time when perhaps we need reminding, of the work that has been done to protect so many homes previously vulnerable to major floods.

Of the Leeman Road area defences it says:

According to the NRA, it was the 1978 flood which initiated this scheme as 225 houses in the area had been flooded. This had been the worst flooding since 1947 when 332 houses had been flooded.

… Some local residents were being flooded every year or two.

The study seemed to confirm something I’d heard before, that soil from the nearby sugarbeet factory was used to construct the original floodbanks, which were completed in 1980. It also includes this interesting snippet of information:

the Local Authority wanted to be able to mow the grass at the top of the banks. This involved flattening the top of the banks (standard floodbanks a crescent shape) which slightly increased the cost of the scheme.

It also reported problems with ‘mole infestations’ in the floodbanks.

Further work was needed after the 1982 flood because of seepage. Other work was scheduled to take place in 1992. The defences in this area seem to have had several modifications and improvements, and more work has taken place very recently, with newly formed floodbanks taking shape in the last couple of years. Available information suggests that residents in this area have had to campaign for a long time for adequate, improved defences, as the original floodbanks weren’t high enough.

The authors of this study into perceptions of the defences mention the belief among some residents ‘that the Leeman Road scheme deflects the current of the Ouse and makes flooding worse in other areas of York.’ This could of course be said of all flood defences, and often is, in a phrase I’ve heard a lot recently: ‘one man’s flood defence is another man’s flood.’ All this floodwater we’re wanting to get out of York goes through a few other places downstream, doesn’t it. Which is why it’s probably better, as many have suggested, to have better management further upstream. Perhaps that will come, one day.

For now, it seems the improved Leeman Road and Water End defences have done their job, been a success. Perhaps anyone who knows differently can add a comment, but they looked to be doing well when I had a wander along there on 27 December. This success — and the success of other 1980s and early 1990s defences — has, understandably, been overshadowed by the failure of the Foss barrier. Which caused the same kind of havoc and misery as the residents of the Leeman Road area used to suffer.

It’s clear, looking at that old yellowing (broadsheet sized) Yorkshire Evening Press of 1978, how many changes there have been, in York and everywhere, since the late 1970s and early 80s. Perhaps best summed up by quoting again from Public perception of rivers and flood defence (345/2/T) : flooding and flood defences in York, reporting on what consultation had taken place on the plans for the Leeman Road defences, back then, as remembered by a Mr Wilson:

… public consultation was carried out through the local working man’s club and the vicar of a local church. He thought that there had probably been a newsletter circulated … Mr Wilson said that he did not remember any objections to the scheme and, in fact, the local milkman had told his wife that he should be given a medal for what the Authority did regarding the flood.

Leeman Road area, flood defences, 27 Dec 2015

Further information

Leeman Road Flood Defence Scheme Worries (2008)

Flood defences given extra £1m to protect hundreds of homes (2013)

York’s leaders praise flood defence project (2014)

The post Leeman Road defences appeared first on York Stories.

Foss barrier, summer 2007

Poor old Foss barrier. We loved it once. Well, many people admired it. It even won awards:

The design of the barrier and adjacent flood walls replicate the architecture of the city’s famous buildings and walls. The scheme has received several awards by organisations including the Institute of Civil Engineers and the Brick Development Association.

– Environment Agency (PDF on this link)

Or, as my Pevsner guide puts it:

(See also ‘Further information’, at the end of this piece, for notes on the date of construction.)

Just after Christmas, when the barrier failed, I went Googling for more info. If you Google ‘Foss barrier’ now you’ll get thousands of articles about its recent failure. So you might never find the interesting ‘historical’ documents I found, from the 1990s.

Via those documents we can go back a bit, to recent history, to the days when the defences were new and exciting things. 

Compiled around 1991 (published in 1993) when the Foss Barrier was very new, other now familiar defences were quite new, and the North St/Wellington Row walls and gates had yet to be constructed:  Public perception of rivers and flood defence (345/2/T) : flooding and flood defences in York by S M Tapsell, S M Tunstall and M Fordham.

Researchers from Middlesex University studied perceptions of the York flood defences, working with the National Rivers Authority (since subsumed into the Environment Agency).

The available PDF appears to be a photocopy and isn’t clear or enlargeable, so I thought I’d include a few sections here.

I was at school and university when most of this flood-defence construction was going on, and I don’t remember it at all. But from this study — ‘the first attempt at a post project appraisal on the public perception of four of the York schemes’ — I learned that the proposals to construct the barrier met with opposition from some local residents, and that its original location and design was modified in response. Campaigners objected to the effect it would have on the immediate environment around it, and particularly that it would involve the felling of trees in New Walk.

Over 200 people turned up at a public meeting on 22 March 1985 and gave the ‘thumbs down’ to the siting of the barrier near to Blue Bridge. According to the study, the council of the time wasn’t keen either, and didn’t want to contribute financially.

The plans progressed:

… At the feasibility stage the pumping station was planned to be underground and people were told that this would be the case. However, as the plans were revised a control room was added and much of the building was built above ground (although the pumps are mostly underground). This raised other objections as the building would be an ‘eyesore’ and would block some of the view for local people.

— (Source)

Jumping forward to today, a piece in the Press today clarifies some of the reasons for the failure of the barrier, including the fact that ‘floodwater was actually seeping into the building that housed the electrics for the Foss barrier pumps.’

I’m just wondering if that’s something that might have been avoided if this now leaky part of the structure had been built higher up, and if it was the protests of the 1980s about blocked views etc that meant it wasn’t? I’m not going to seek out documents in the archives to find out, as I’ve got far too many other things to do (including an overdue visit to Layerthorpe) but I thought I’d just leave that thought there, if anyone would like to ponder upon it further.

Let’s return to the old days of the 1980s, as reported in the study.

The scheme was redesigned in response to protests, and the barrier moved 50-60 metres upstream:

This caused some accusations to be directed at Yorkshire Water Authority as they had initially said that the Blue Bridge site was the only place where the barrier could be built. They were therefore accused of lying when the new site was proposed.

— (Source)

A common thread between then and now — suspicions about various authorities lying to the public.

The study refers to a campaign group of the time: the Huntington Road Flood Action Committee. I don’t suppose this is still going, but in light of recent events it could be something that residents of that area might want to resurrect.

We may return to this interesting report, but for now I’d just like to remain with the Foss barrier and mention another document from the old days when it was all shiny and new.

The publication date of this one isn’t clear (‘before 1996′ is the date given in this information) but it appears to date from soon after the Foss flood alleviation scheme was completed and the barrier was operational. It’s worth a look if you’re interested in the workings of the barrier, or if a hydrograph of the 1982 flood is something you could draw useful information from. (I’m afraid I couldn’t.)

The brochure has diagrams and detailed operational stuff I don’t understand at all, and I have no idea what’s been updated since in the workings of the Foss barrier and its associated structures. (I think the computer equipment pictured will have been replaced since.)

River Foss flood alleviation scheme (intro page, summary, with link to PDF)

Here’s part of it:

Diagram from River Foss flood alleviation scheme

It includes the following information on the Tang Hall and Osbaldwick Becks:

These were originally tributary to the River Foss but in the late 18th Century were culverted to the River Ouse. River Ouse levels are therefore reflected directly back up the culvert into the Becks.

Which I thought was interesting, following on from my recent investigations into one of the watercourses on the other side of town.

The Tang Hall culvert was then altered:

In order to prevent direct reflection of River Ouse water levels up the culvert, a 1.35m diameter diversion has been built which relocates the outfall in the River Foss upstream of the barrier, as indicated on Fig. 4. A branch off this diversion forms a bypass of the gate which can be used to equalise levels on either side of the gate prior to opening.

So much going on with our rivers and watercourses and their defences, in recent years and before that.

Perhaps one day, if we keep trying, we might get through a major flood without hundreds of homes and businesses having to send vast skipfuls of ruined goods and furniture to Harewood Whin — or wherever we send it to once Harewood Whin is full.

Further information

Anyone researching online for the basic fact of when the Foss barrier was built might have noticed, as I did, a range of dates — between 1986 to 1989. This bothered me as I do try to present reliable facts. The variation seems to be explained by this paragraph in an article in the Yorkshire Post:

Construction work on the Foss Barrier started in October 1986 and it was completed in November 1988. The agency took it over in February 1989 and it first operated a month later on March 24.

The article: Flood barrier to be checked on-line dates from a full ten years ago (as that hyphen maybe indicates — in more recent years ‘online’ without the hyphen is more usual). Again, it’s worth a read, for facts and figures and general information about Foss barrier happenings in the years most of us were barely giving it a thought, before its failure made us all think about it and its mysterious workings.

The post Our new defence: the Foss barrier, back then appeared first on York Stories.

Clifton Green and the Bur Dike, 1852 map

Though this side of town (away from the Foss) stayed mainly dry in the recent floods, there were sudden surprising amounts of water in a few places.

On Boxing Day, photos on Twitter alerted me to the fact that Water Lane in Clifton was in one section true to its name, and covered in water. I went up there to have a look.

A large lake had appeared at the lower point of the road, at the junction with Kingsway.

Flooding on Water Lane, Clifton, 26 Dec 2015

Flooding at Water Lane/Kingsway junction, Clifton, 26 Dec 2015

This is nowhere near the river, so clearly this isn’t the river bursting its banks kind of flooding. It might have been assumed that this was the result of heavy rain, and perhaps blocked/silted-up street drains (a fairly common problem in many suburban areas).

After standing there a while it became clear that the water’s surface was in places bubbling up, presumably from manhole covers in the road. Suggesting that this water hadn’t come down from the sky but mainly up from the ground.

I think what we were seeing here was the bubbling up of the Burdyke. (Or ‘Bur Dike’, as it’s called on the 1852 map above.)

This road is one of the old routes, and clearly has one of those typical old names, the ‘call it what it is’ type of name, like the many Church Lanes leading to churches. The map of 1852 shows the Burdyke (Bur Dike) running alongside Water Lane, which presumably often flooded back then. And on this day late in 2015 it was again. This isn’t uncommon, apparently.

It was impassable near to the junction at Clifton Green by the time I got up there, but I wanted to see what was happening at the Green, so it was necessary to backtrack (and approach it via the forbiddingly named ‘Dead Man’s Alley’).

The water covered a large area of Clifton Green, and some of the road areas alongside.

Clifton Green, with floodwater (and redundant water trough) 26 Dec 2015

This used to happen a lot, and appears to have been much worse in the 1892 floods.

Flooding on Clifton Green, 1892. (Photo: Explore York Images and Archives)

There are a couple of short stretches of the Burdyke still visible upstream at Clifton Backies. (This photo was taken today, not during the floods last week.)

Burdyke, Clifton Backies, 5 Jan 2016

The rest of this watercourse, heading downstream, is culverted (piped in). But apparently it still follows the same course as it used to, heading towards the Ouse via Water Lane and then Clifton Green, and then under a centuries-old pathway from the Green (which is still a snicket), bending its way behind back gardens and under roads. Near the end of Westminster Road it takes a turn towards the river.

The flood alerts on Boxing Day had mentioned the Burdyke pumping station. I get the impression that the Burdyke pumping station isn’t a well-known structure. The pumps are apparently under the end of the floodbank behind St Peter’s, at the point where the path crosses from the river to the end of Westminster Road. At this point there’s a small brick shed behind the flood bank, and a concrete structure embedded into it.

Burdyke Pumping Station, Clifton, 5 Jan 2016

I’m sure I remember standing on the floodbank here during the floods of 2000 and hearing the noise from within, of the pumps, presumably, full-on and making quite a racket. Similarly in 2012, as mentioned on an earlier page.

On Boxing Day this year, after seeing the water on Water Lane and Clifton Green I followed part of the route of the buried Burdyke, towards the river, thinking I’d stand on the floodbank and from there get a better view on things, a perspective on how bad it was, having stood/walked there so many times before.

On the way, in this low-lying area on the old pathway/snicket by the school grounds, more evidence of what seemed to be the Burdyke bubbling up, near the end of Westminster Road.

Flooding near Westminster Rd, 26 Dec 2015

Then heading for the river, to survey the scene, the route became impassable in ordinary walking boots and would have needed wellies. I got as far as the brick building which is part of the pumping station for the Burdyke, but couldn’t get onto the floodbank beyond it.

It all seemed fairly quiet down there, with a few people on the floodbank itself, standing looking at the water. I’d thought I’d be able to hear the pumps doing their thing, but perhaps, I thought, I wasn’t close enough.

Later, reading comments on the Press website, I noticed a reader had mentioned that they thought those pumps at the Burdyke weren’t working. That they’d gone down to the riverside, (presumably via a different route or wearing wellies) and stood on the bank above the pumps, and thought that it all seemed rather quiet.

It could be that the Environment Agency have invested in extremely quiet pumps. Or that the person who commented on this online was mistaken. Or that the pumps had been turned off for some technical reason none of us understand. Or that they’d failed. In any case, as far as I’m aware the flooding of the Burdyke area doesn’t cause any flooding of homes, it just seems to produce a temporary lake for Clifton and inconvenience motorists.

The Clifton lake seemed to disappear very quickly, and by around midday the following day there wasn’t much of it left on Clifton Green. These two photos illustrate the change from one day to the next:

Clifton Green flooded, 2.21pm, 26 Dec 2015

Clifton Green after flooding, 12.30pm, 27 Dec 2015

Which is quite impressive really isn’t it. There was a bit of water left on the Green the day after (see the first photo on this page), but not much. I assume this was connected to the Burdyke and its pumps? Were the pumps ‘overwhelmed’ (a word I think I’ve seen in connection with the Foss barrier pumps) and then recovered themselves and resumed pumping, and that’s why all this water disappeared again surprisingly quickly? Did the emergency services come along in the night and manually pump the floodwater away? Does anyone know?

I didn’t like to ask before now, as there have been more important things going on with the Foss at the other side of town. But it’s all linked, all these watercourses heading for the Ouse.

There may be big obvious rivers through the city, but there are also several rather important and ancient watercourses, and the Burdyke is one of them. The buried Burdyke, in times of over-capacity, seems to flood up and out to remind us of what the landscape was like in centuries past – just as the Foss did recently, reclaiming the old ‘King’s Fishpool’. We perhaps need more knowledge and understanding of our becks and dykes, the ‘ordinary watercourses’, as they’re called in the flood strategy documents. (Which contain more information on our becks and the Burdyke, should you be interested. The relevant links can be found on this page.)

I could go on, but I fear I’ve already overwhelmed readers with a flood of information. Thanks for reading. Comments and local insights (and expert insights from further afield) are welcome, as always. If any of the above is factually inaccurate, it’s not for want of trying. The information on the Burdyke and its pumping station is sparse and until recently it seemed fairly impossible to find any information on it at all.

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