Ending the Year on a High: A New Year’s Eve Trek to Stoodley Pike

Date: December 31, 2016 Location: Todmorden, West Yorkshire Camera: Nikon D3300

There are few better ways to say goodbye to an old year than by climbing above the noise of daily life and standing on top of the world—or at least, on top of the Calder Valley.

On New Year's Eve, 2016, I took my Nikon D3300 up the muddy tracks to one of West Yorkshire’s most iconic landmarks: Stoodley Pike Monument. The air was biting, the light was fading into a winter gloaming, and the moors were silent.

Join me on a walk to the "Sentinel of the Valley."

The Ascent

The climb up to Stoodley Pike is never a casual stroll, especially in the depths of winter. The Pennine Way crosses here, and the path is well-trodden by centuries of boots. As I made my way up, the winter light began to shift, turning the rough moorland grass into a sea of rusted gold.

The approach. The muddy tracks leading the eye straight to the obelisk, standing solitary against the grey winter sky.

There is a stark beauty to the moors in December. The Nikon D3300 did a fantastic job capturing the texture of the dry grasses and the heavy, cloud-laden sky. It felt like the weather was holding its breath, waiting for the year to turn.

A View of Todmorden

As you gain elevation, the town of Todmorden falls away beneath you. One of my favourite shots from the day was looking back down into the valley..

The view from the heights. You can just see the streetlights and house lights flickering on in Todmorden, warm specs of amber against the cooling blue of the hills.

This image captures the isolation of the Pike. Down there, people were likely preparing for New Year's Eve parties, warming their homes. Up here, it was just the wind and the sheep.

The Peace Monument

Standing at 121 feet (37 meters) tall, Stoodley Pike Monument is imposing up close. Interestingly, the structure we see today is actually the second monument on this site. The first, built in 1814 to commemorate the defeat of Napoleon, collapsed in 1854 after a lightning strike and decades of weathering. The current structure was completed in 1856, built to mark the end of the Crimean War.

The monument framed by the rugged gritstone boulders that litter the summit.

Standing tall. The darkening stonework contrasts sharply with the pale winter sky, emphasizing the monument's brooding presence.

It is a structure born of war, yet built for peace, standing guard over the valley for over 160 years.

Into the Darkness

Unlike many follies and monuments that are sealed off, Stoodley Pike invites you in. The entrance is a small, dark opening at the base that leads to a spiral staircase. There are no windows on the way up—it is a pitch-black ascent (a torch or phone light is highly recommended!) that eventually opens up onto a balcony.

The heavy stone base and the entrance. The massive blocks of stone give you a sense of the engineering required to keep this standing against the fierce Pennine winds.

The Balcony View

Stepping out onto the balcony is a visceral experience. The wind usually hits you with renewed force, but the view is worth it. You are standing some 1,300 feet above sea level.

Looking out from the balcony. The weathered stone railing, carved with the initials of visitors from decades past, overlooks the vast expanse of the moorland plateau.

Final Reflections

As the light finally gave way, I captured a silhouette of the monument. It felt like a fitting end to the photo walk—a strong, enduring shape against the fading light of 2016.

The silhouette of the Pike. A simple, powerful geometry against the morning sky.

Visiting Stoodley Pike is a reminder of the permanence of the landscape compared to the fleeting nature of our years. If you find yourself in West Yorkshire, pack your boots and your camera. The hike is steep, but the perspective it offers is unmatched.

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The Salvage Archive: A September Afternoon at Fountains Abbey, 1975

There is a unique magic to holding a 35mm slide up to the light. It’s a tiny, suspended square of time—a moment captured in silver halides that hasn't been seen, perhaps, for decades.

As a collector of vintage photography, I often stumble upon these little windows into the past. Recently, I acquired a small set labelled simply: "Fountains Abbey, September 1975."

Today, Fountains Abbey in North Yorkshire is a slick, well-oiled machine of heritage tourism. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site, managed by the National Trust and English Heritage. But what did it look like half a century ago, before the visitor centres and the designated World Heritage status?

Let’s load the carousel and take a trip back to the autumn of 1975.

The Gothic Giants

The first slide captures the sheer scale of the Cistercian engineering. This view, likely of the Chapel of the Nine Altars, shows the towering lancet windows reaching up to a sky that looks distinctly 1970s blue.

What strikes me most about this image is the light. Slide film from this era had a specific way of rendering contrast—deep, crushing shadows and vibrant, almost painterly greens.

Historically, 1975 is an interesting year for the Abbey. While the State had purchased the Abbey ruins in 1966, the surrounding Studley Royal estate wasn't acquired by the National Trust until 1983. In 1975, this site was managed by the Department of the Environment. You get a sense here of a site that is maintained, yet quiet. There are no crowds in the frame, just the silent, hulking skeletons of the monastic past.

A Wilder Ruin

This second slide offers a fascinating detail that you might not see today. Look closely at the top of the jagged masonry. You can see tufts of grass and vegetation clinging to the high stones.

In modern conservation, this is often known as "soft capping," but back in the 70s, ruins were often allowed to be a little more "romantic" and wild. Today, stonemasons and conservationists work tirelessly to keep invasive roots out of the mortar to prevent the structure from toppling.

This image captures the texture of the dissolution. When Henry VIII ordered the dissolution of the monasteries in the 1530s, the lead was stripped from the roofs and the stone was quarried for other buildings. What we see here is the slow, centuries-long battle between the stone and the reclaiming nature of the Skell Valley.

Framing the Past

The unknown photographer who took these slides in 1975 had a keen eye for composition. This is my favourite of the set. By using the dark, heavy masonry of a doorway in the foreground, they have framed the sunlit tower in the distance perfectly.

It creates a sense of depth and mystery. It reminds us that Fountains Abbey isn't just one building, but a sprawling complex of dormitories, refectories, and cellariums.

The 1975 Context

When these photos were taken in September 1975:

• Pink Floyd had just released Wish You Were Here.

• The UK was experiencing a warm end to the summer.

• Fountains Abbey was still 11 years away from becoming a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Viewing these places through the medium of 35mm slides adds a layer of nostalgia that digital photography simply cannot replicate. There is a grain, a texture, and a colour palette that roots these images firmly in their time.

These slides might have sat in a box in someone’s attic for forty years, but projected here on the screen, the sun shines on the Yorkshire stone just as brightly as it did on that September afternoon.

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Stepping Back in Time: A Sepia Afternoon at Hebden Bridge Station

 Date: November 21, 2013 Camera: Samsung Galaxy Tablet

There are some places that seem to resist the pull of the modern world, where the clock ticks a little slower, and the air feels heavy with history. Hebden Bridge Railway Station is one of those places.

On a crisp afternoon in November 2013, I found myself on the platform with my Samsung Galaxy tablet. Looking through the lens, the scene didn't feel like the 21st century at all. In fact, when I switched to sepia, the station transformed completely, revealing its true Victorian soul.

Join me for a walk through this historic gem of the West Riding.

The Arrival

The first thing you notice about Hebden Bridge is that it doesn't look like a modern commuter stop. It feels like a film set. As the train pulls away, you aren't left with concrete and plastic, but with iron, stone, and silence.

A train departs, leaving behind the quiet charm of the platform. Note the "Coffee Station" sign on the left—a beloved local fixture occupying the former parcels office.

The station you see today is actually the second iteration. The original Manchester & Leeds Railway station opened here in 1840, but the current buildings date back to 1891-1893, built by the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway (L&YR). The sepia tone of these photos captures that 1890s atmosphere perfectly; if you removed the modern train, this could easily be 1913.

Victorian Grandeur

Walking along the platform, the architecture demands your attention. In the 1990s, the station underwent a massive restoration to return it to its L&YR glory, including the installation of heritage-style signage and the preservation of the ironwork.

Looking down the platform. The sheer scale of the canopy reminds us of a time when railway travel was an occasion, not just a commute.

The intricate ironwork of the canopy. The "Way Out" signage and the gas-lamp style lights (now electric, of course) maintain the illusion of the Victorian era.

The main station building is constructed of rock-faced stone with ashlar dressings—a testament to the solid, confident engineering of the industrial north. It was built to serve the booming textile mills of the valley, and its grandeur reflects the wealth that once flowed through these hills.

The Booking Office exterior. The building originally housed first-class waiting rooms and "ladies' rooms," separating passengers by social standing—a practice long gone, thankfully.

Into the Depths

One of the most atmospheric parts of the station is the subway. Originally, passengers had to cross the tracks on foot, which was perilous. During the 1890s expansion, this subway was dug to connect the platforms safely.

The subway tunnel. The monochrome processing brings out the texture of the glazed bricks and the damp, moody lighting. It feels like a portal to another time.

The Sentinel of the Line: The Signal Box

Perhaps the crown jewel of the station's heritage is the signal box. While many mechanical signal boxes across the UK have been demolished in favour of modern digital signalling centres, the Hebden Bridge box has survived.

A view from the platform looking towards the signal box, nestled against the tree-lined valley side.

Built in 1891, this is a Type 4 L&YR box. It is now Grade II listed, recognized as a structure of national historic importance. It represents a lost era of manual labour, where signalmen pulled heavy levers to guide steam giants safely through the valley.

A closer look at the Signal Box. You can clearly see the timber upper structure sitting on the brick base. It’s rare to see one in such original condition.

A Timeless Stop

Leaving the station that day in 2013, I felt like I was stepping out of a time capsule. Whether you are a railway enthusiast, a history buff, or just someone who appreciates a good cup of coffee in a beautiful setting, Hebden Bridge station is a destination in itself.

These photos on my tablet may be digital, but the spirit they captured is undeniably analogue.

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A Forgotten Waterway: Walking the Halifax Branch Canal

The Calder and Hebble Navigation is one of Yorkshire's great industrial arteries, but one short spur holds a particularly fascinating, and largely buried, history: the Halifax Branch Canal. Recently, I took a walk along the small, navigable section that remains today, from Salterhebble Top Lock to the Salterhebble Basin, and was inspired to look deeper into this forgotten waterway.

The Last Surviving Stretch

The walk starts where the main navigation meets the spur. The modern-day journey is short, a serene quarter-mile of placid water contrasting sharply with the busy road nearby. This short section is a peaceful haven, offering moorings and a tranquil reflection of the industrial past.

The basin at Salterhebble, now a calm, boat-filled pool, was once the hive of activity for the main canal's final push towards Halifax before the branch opened. Today, it’s a spot to pause and appreciate the peaceful coexistence of nature and history.

The Buried Climb to Bailey Hall

What many people don't realise is that this short length is just the beginning of what was once a mighty, ambitious climb right into the heart of Halifax. When the branch opened in 1828, it extended for about a mile and a quarter, rising an astonishing 110 feet via 14 locks to terminate at Bailey Hall Basin, near the modern-day railway station and the former Mackintosh (now Nestlé) factory site. This monumental civil engineering feat was necessary to bring heavy goods like coal and stone directly into the thriving industrial town. The canal was crucial, as one horse could haul up to 60 tons by boat, a huge advantage over carting goods over the steep, difficult roads of the area.

An Expensive, Challenging Engineering Feat

The Halifax Branch was notoriously expensive to run. The terrain was challenging, and local mill owners were fiercely protective of the water supply in the Hebble Brook. This meant the canal company couldn't rely on the usual gravity-fed reservoirs.

The solution was a feat of ingenuity: a brick-lined culvert was built to carry water from the bottom of the arm all the way to a reservoir near the top at Phoebe Lane, where a massive steam-powered pumping engine then lifted the water to the highest level. The cost of running this engine and maintaining the long, leaky canal meant tolls were double those on the main Calder and Hebble.

The Ghosts of the Locks

The branch’s life was relatively short; it officially closed in 1942 and much of it was quickly drained and infilled. The route is now largely preserved as the Hebble Trail, a fantastic walking route that traces the canal's former path.

Walking this trail is like following a ghost. You walk over what were once the lock chambers—those well-built stone walls and depressions you see are the tops of the buried locks! It's an incredible sensation to know you're traversing a route where barges once struggled up and down a staircase of water.

Interestingly, the old structures, including bridges and the lock chambers themselves, were so robustly built that demolition would have been too costly. They were simply buried—a fascinating thought for a history enthusiast! Even the aqueduct that carried the canal over the Hebble Brook at Farrah Mill Lane still stands, though it faces problems today.

A Legacy of Industry and Leisure

Though its commercial life ended over 80 years ago, the spirit of the Halifax Branch lives on. The remaining section at Salterhebble serves as a reminder of the colossal ambition that shaped the West Riding's industrial landscape. The Hebble Trail ensures the route isn't completely forgotten, allowing walkers and cyclists to literally walk in the footsteps of the horse-drawn barges of old.

So next time you're in the area, don't just see the tranquil waters at Salterhebble. Take a moment to think about the 14 locks and the 110 feet of elevation that lie buried beneath your feet, connecting the busy present with a forgotten past.

I took these pictures with a Polaroid is2132 camera on the 13th June 2015, clicking any of them should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

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A Summer Stroll Through Crow Wood Park, Sowerby Bridge

Stepping into Crow Wood Park in Sowerby Bridge, especially on a lovely day like the one captured in these June 2023 photos, feels like discovering a peaceful, green oasis. The mix of open, rolling lawns, mature woodlands, and charming historic features offers a welcome escape.

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The Rich History Beneath the Grass

What many visitors may not realise is the fascinating history woven into the very fabric of this beautiful public space. Crow Wood Park wasn't always a park—it was once the grand grounds of Crow Wood Mansion.

• A Wartime Legacy: The mansion itself played a significant role during World War I, serving as a hospital until its closure in 1920.

• A Public Vision: The forward-thinking Sowerby Bridge Council purchased the estate in 1919 with the vision of creating a public space, a true community hub. The mansion was subsequently demolished, and the park officially opened its gates in April 1923.

• A Place of Remembrance: A profound feature is the Memorial Gate, unveiled on November 10, 1929. This powerful monument was dedicated to those from the Sowerby Bridge area who perished in the Great War, and now honours the fallen of both World Wars.

• Centenary Status: In 2014, the park was fittingly renamed Crow Wood Centenary Park to mark the 100th anniversary of the start of WWI, reinforcing its historical significance and protecting it forever as a Centenary Field.

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A Park for Every Season (and every Nikon d3300!)

Our collection of photos, taken on a bright summer day, perfectly highlights the park's diverse appeal:

• Winding Paths & Open Views: The asphalt paths invite you for a gentle run or a leisurely stroll, leading you through sun-drenched clearings and offering lovely views over the local valley and the houses nestled below.

• Woodland Serenity: Parts of the park feel wonderfully enclosed, with dappled light filtering through the mature trees, creating cool, lush green tunnels and secluded walkways.

• Historic Charm: Keep an eye out for the remnants of its past! Ornate features like the stone pedestal or what appears to be part of an old fountain or wellhead add a touch of historic grandeur to the formal garden areas.

• Modern Amenities: While the original bandstand has been repurposed, the park remains a vital community space with facilities like tennis courts, now benefiting from recent refurbishment investment!), and open fields perfect for a picnic or simply letting the kids run free.

Whether you're looking for a peaceful walk, a place to reflect on local history, or a green space to stay active, Crow Wood Park truly is a jewel in Sowerby Bridge's crown. It's a living, breathing testament to community spirit and enduring local heritage.

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A Glimpse into the Past: Brotton Railway Station and Its Story

This beautifully colorized postcard of Brotton Railway Station truly brings a piece of history to life. It’s more than just a picture of a building; it’s a snapshot of a bygone era, bustling with local life and hinting at the stories held within its brick walls.

Let's take a closer look at what this image tells us about Brotton, a village with deep roots in the ironstone mining industry of North Yorkshire.

The Heart of Brotton: The Railway Station

Brotton Railway Station was a vital artery for the community, especially after the discovery of ironstone in the Cleveland Hills in the mid-19th century. The railway wasn't just for passengers; it was crucial for transporting the extracted ironstone to the smelters in Teesside, fuelling the industrial revolution.

In this image, we see the station's rather grand and substantial architecture, suggesting its importance. The distinctive chimneys and roofline give it a sturdy, almost institutional feel, typical of many railway buildings constructed during the Victorian and Edwardian periods.

Fashion, Faces, and a Fenced Future

The most captivating elements of this photograph are undoubtedly the people. We see a group of children and adults gathered near the station entrance, some looking towards the camera, others seemingly engaged in conversation or movement. Their attire offers valuable clues:

• Children: Dressed in simple, practical clothing, many in dresses and pinafores.

• Adults: The women's hats and long skirts, and the men's more formal wear (one figure on the left appears to be wearing a cap and coat, while another in the group seems to be in a uniform of some sort, perhaps a railway worker or a local constable), all point to an earlier time.

The presence of the wooden fence along the right side of the image, the unpaved ground, and the general air of a growing, yet still somewhat rural, settlement further inform our perspective. The "WHITBY" sign on the left near the fence is also a wonderful detail, highlighting connections to other local towns and likely signifying the train's destination or a local business.

Dating the Image: A Best Guess

Based on the architectural style of the station, the clothing worn by the people, and the overall feel of the scene, we can make an educated guess about the photograph's date.

Brotton Station opened in 1875. The clothing styles visible, particularly the women's and children's outfits, strongly suggest the late Victorian or early Edwardian period. The formality of dress, even for children, was common until well into the 20th century.

Considering these factors, a likely timeframe for this photograph would be between 1890 and 1910. It captures an era just before the dramatic changes brought about by the First World War and the subsequent shifts in fashion and daily life.

What a wonderful piece of local history brought to life with this colorization! It prompts us to imagine the sounds and smells of the station – the hiss of steam, the whistle of a departing train, and the chatter of villagers going about their day.

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Village Gossips: Unpacking an Early 20th-Century Postcard

The humble postcard—a fleeting communication in its time—often becomes a profound historical artifact for us today. I recently acquired a wonderful example, titled “Village Gossips,” that invites us to pause and listen in on a moment of rural life from over a century ago.

The Image: An Idyllic Scene of Everyday Life

The front of the postcard features a vibrant colour lithograph of a scene rich in atmosphere:

• The Setting: We are on a dirt or gravel track, flanked by sturdy dry-stone walls characteristic of the British countryside. The central focus is a wooden gate, perhaps leading into a farmyard or a private dwelling.

• The Figures: Two women dominate the scene.

  • The woman on the left stands outside a handsome, reddish-brick cottage. She wears a light-coloured skirt, a pinkish blouse, and has her hands on her hips in a familiar, perhaps slightly impatient or expectant, posture.

  • The woman on the right is paused by the gate, looking toward her companion. She is dressed in traditional, darker working clothes, including a white head covering—likely a bonnet or folded shawl—and a large apron over a dark blue dress.

• The Title: The title, “Village Gossips,” immediately frames the interaction. This isn't just a casual meeting; it's a moment of shared secrets, local news, or community rumour. The women are the custodians and distributors of the vital social network of the village.

The artwork style, with its soft, slightly blurry edges and romanticized depiction of rural life, strongly suggests a date from the Edwardian era (c. 1901-1910), a time when postcards flourished as the primary means of short, quick correspondence.

Decoding the Message: A Glimpse into the Postbag

The reverse of the postcard, a "Tuck's Post Card" (Tuck being a highly famous publisher, Raphael Tuck & Sons), is where the real personal history lies. The format—with "FOR ADDRESS ONLY" on the right and space for the message on the left—confirms its early 20th-century origins.

The Recipient and Location

The address is clearly legible:

• Miss Pond

• White House

• Chipstable

• Wiveliscombe

• Somerset

Wiveliscombe is a small town in Somerset, England. The sender was clearly writing to a Miss Pond, perhaps a relative or friend, at the White House in the nearby hamlet of Chipstable.

The Message and the Date

The handwriting is a classic early 20th-century script, written vertically down the left side, as was often done to maximize space:

"Loving greetings dear Miss [?]. Have nice [?] & arrived [?] all safe & sound. So pleased you [?] safely back [?] of your [?] I [?] [?] I [?] of your [?] of [?] love from all [?]. R. & G. [?] of the [?] to [?] it."

• Key Phrases Deciphered: "Loving greetings," "arrived [?] all safe & sound," "So pleased you [?] safely back," "love from all," and the sign-off "R. & G." (or possibly "E. & G.").

• The Content: The message is one of relief and welcome. The sender is clearly happy that the recipient (Miss Pond) has "arrived" or is "back" after a journey, suggesting a significant trip of some kind. The tone is warm and affectionate.

Reading the Postmark

In the top right corner, we see the remnants of a postmark, which is always the best way to date a postcard. While the postmark is heavily obscured and partly covered by the stamp, we can make out some elements. Based on the style of the stamp (a King Edward VII or early King George V design) and the postcard format:

• Estimated Date: The handwriting and context suggest a date around 1905 to 1915. The sender’s reference to arrival “all safe and sound” might even hint at the anxiety of travel during the uncertain years around the First World War (1914-1918), though this is speculative.

Why This Matters

This simple postcard, once a quick piece of news between "R. & G." and "Miss Pond," now offers a poignant window into the past:

1. Social History: It shows us the postcard craze, a genuine social media of its day, where visuals and short text were swapped across the country.

2. Rural Life: The image captures a romantic view of a quiet village, where news was shared face-to-face, not online—a true moment of "gossip" and human connection.

3. Personal Touch: It immortalizes a small, caring moment—the relief of friends or family over the safe return of a loved one.

This "Village Gossips" postcard is a small treasure, preserving not just a picture of an English village, but a genuine expression of early 20th-century friendship.

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