The Salvage Archive: Rediscovering Derwentwater through 35mm Slides from October 1978

 There is a unique magic found in the click of a slide projector and the warm, slightly dusty scent of a halogen bulb heating up. For collectors of vintage photography, these small, plastic-framed windows are more than just images; they are tactile time machines.

I have spent years hunting through antique fairs, estate sales, and online auctions to build my collection of found 35mm slides. There is a profound sense of responsibility that comes with being the custodian of someone else's memories. Recently, I unearthed a particularly stunning set that transported me back to the English Lake District during a very specific moment in time: October 1978.

These four slides capture the moody, ethereal beauty of Derwentwater—the "Queen of the Lakes"—just as the 1970s were drawing to a close.

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The Haunting Hues of a Cumbrian Autumn

The first thing that strikes you about these 1978 transparencies is the colour palette. Modern digital photography often feels "too sharp," lacking the organic grain and soft colour shifts of 35mm film. In these slides, the fells surrounding Keswick aren’t just green; they are a rich tapestry of russet, gold, and deep charcoal.

In the primary landscape shots, the iconic silhouette of Catbells and the surrounding Northwestern Fells dominate the horizon. The peaks are bathed in that soft, diffused October light that Lake District enthusiasts know so well. It’s a light that feels heavy with the coming winter, yet warm enough to set the autumn bracken ablaze with orange hues.

A Glimpse of the Keswick Launches

One of the most evocative images in this set shows the wooden jetties and the distinctive profile of a Keswick Launch. In 1978, these boats were already a historic staple of the lake, having ferried tourists since the Victorian era.

Looking at the slide, you can almost hear the gentle lap of the water against the timber piles and the distant call of a crow from the Friar’s Crag woods. The composition—framed by overhanging branches—is a classic example of 1970s amateur photography: thoughtful, unhurried, and deeply appreciative of the natural frame.

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Why "Found" Photography Matters

You might wonder why a collector would seek out the holiday snaps of a stranger from nearly 50 years ago. The answer lies in the authenticity of the gaze.

In 1978, taking a photograph was an intentional act. You only had 24 or 36 exposures on a roll. You didn’t see the result until weeks later when the yellow Kodak box arrived in the mail. This meant that the photographer chose this specific October day at Derwentwater because something about the light, the stillness of the water, or the shape of the mountains felt worth "saving."

These slides capture a Lake District that feels remarkably similar to the one we see today, yet subtly different. The shoreline in the fourth slide reveals a few vintage cars parked on the grass—automotive silhouettes that firmly anchor the scene in the late 70s. It serves as a reminder that while the mountains are eternal, our presence among them is fleeting.

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The Technical Charm of the 35mm Slide

From a technical standpoint, these slides have held up beautifully. The "sold 27-12" notation on the frames suggests these were perhaps part of a larger curated lot, sold during a winter long ago.

• Grain and Texture: The film grain adds a layer of "atmosphere" that digital filters try (and often fail) to replicate.

• Dynamic Range: Notice the way the shadows in the foreground trees remain deep and mysterious, while the sky retains a soft, milky texture.

• Historical Record: Beyond the aesthetics, these slides serve as a geographical record of lake levels and woodland density in the late 20th century.

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Preserving the Legacy of Derwentwater

Owning these slides feels like holding a secret. In October 1978, the person behind the lens stood on the shores of Derwentwater, perhaps wearing a heavy wool sweater and bell-bottom corduroys, marvelling at the same view that inspires us today.

By digitizing and sharing these images, we ensure that their "decisive moment" isn't lost to the back of a cupboard or a dusty attic. We are keeping the spirit of 1970s Cumbria alive, one slide at a time.

Whether you are a lover of the Lake District, a vintage film enthusiast, or someone who simply enjoys the nostalgia of a bygone era, these glimpses of Derwentwater remind us of the quiet beauty of the English landscape. They encourage us to slow down, look through the viewfinder, and appreciate the stillness of an autumn afternoon.

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Stone Sentinels and Industrial Dreams: A Winter Walk at All Saints Church, Salterhebble

Discovering Victorian Gothic grandeur and the final resting place of a confectionery legend on the hillsides of Halifax.

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The Spire Over the Valley

If you drive along the valley bottom south of Halifax, your eye is inevitably drawn upwards to a needle-sharp stone spire piercing the skyline. It belongs to All Saints Church in Salterhebble, a building that has stood sentinel over this industrial landscape since the mid-19th century.

To walk through its churchyard today, especially amid the rust-coloured bracken and bare trees of winter, is to step back into a time when Halifax was a powerhouse of the Victorian textile industry. It is a place of immense atmosphere, where the roar of modern traffic fades away, replaced by a quiet solemnity and architectural beauty.

The imposing spire of All Saints, framed by winter branches against a crisp blue sky. This vertical composition perfectly captures the church's dominance over the landscape.

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Architects of the Textile Boom

All Saints Church was consecrated in 1858. It was born out of necessity; the industrial revolution had swelled the local population, and the existing chapels could no longer cope.

The church was designed by the architectural partnership of Mallinson & Healey. If you look closely at churches across West Yorkshire, you will frequently find their names. They were the go-to architects for the region's booming mill towns, masters of the "Gothic Revival" style. They didn't just build functional spaces; they built statements of civic and religious pride, designed to emulate the soaring spirituality of medieval cathedrals, constructed from durable local stone.

The church is large, dignified, and solid—a perfect reflection of the confident era in which it was built.

The imposing spire of All Saints, framed by winter branches against a crisp blue sky. This vertical composition perfectly captures the church's dominance over the landscape.

Presented in sepia, the textures of the local stone construction and the rhythmic pattern of the lancet windows are brought to the fore.

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Victorian Views on Death and Status

TheVictorians did not hide away from death; they celebrated it with elaborate rituals and grand monuments. A person’s status in life was often reflected by the size of their memorial in death. All Saints churchyard is a fascinating necropolis, filled with the graves of mill owners, merchants, and the professionals who kept the town running.

While many stones are now leaning, reclaimed by ivy and tall grass, others remain starkly impressive. The grounds feature several significant "chest tombs" and mausoleums—above-ground burial chambers designed for wealthy families who wanted to ensure their legacy was visible long after they were gone.

Victorian funerary grandeur. This large, ornate chest tomb, featuring intricate carvings and cusped arches, indicates a family of significant wealth and local standing.

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A Sweet Slice of History: The Mackintosh Grave

Among the hundreds of weathered stones, there is one that holds a particular fascination for anyone interested in Halifax's commercial history—and anyone with a sweet tooth.

Tucked away in the churchyard is the family grave of John Mackintosh (1868–1920).

Known internationally as "The Toffee King," Mackintosh began his confectionery empire right here in Halifax. Starting with a small pastry shop, his unique blend of brittle English toffee and soft American caramel revolutionized the sweets industry. His company would eventually give the world beloved brands like Quality Street, Rolo, and Toffee Crisp. Standing before his modest but dignified memorial is a direct connection to a global business empire born in this very parish.

The final resting place of the "Toffee King." The inscription for John Mackintosh, J.P. (Justice of the Peace), is clearly visible in this black and white photograph.

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Atmosphere and Shadow

There is a distinct mood to All Saints that changes with the light. On a bright day, the warm Yorkshire stone glows against the blue sky. But when the clouds roll in, or when viewed through the lens of black and white photography, the church takes on a brooding, gothic atmosphere.

The interplay of shadow against the heavy masonry creates a sense of drama, highlighting the intricate carvings and the sheer weight of the history contained within these walls and grounds.

High drama and deep shadows. This monochrome shot captures a large mausoleum nestled against the church walls, emphasizing the gothic atmosphere of the site.

Visiting All Saints

All Saints, Salterhebble, remains a functioning place of worship and a vital part of the local community. When visiting the churchyard to explore its history and architecture, visitors are encouraged to remain respectful of the site as an active burial ground and a place of quiet reflection.

It is a location that rewards a slow walk and a keen eye, offering a profound connection to the generations that built the Halifax we know today.

I took these pictures on the 24th November 2023 with a Nikon d3300, clicking any of them should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

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All the images remain the copyright of Colin Green.

Discovering the Beauty of Bradford Cathedral (Exterior Exploration)

On a crisp December day (December 10th, 2022, to be precise!), I took my Nikon D3300 out to explore a true architectural gem in the heart of Bradford: Bradford Cathedral. While I focused my lens solely on the exterior – understanding that interior photography often requires special permission – the building itself offered an abundance of captivating details and a sense of timeless grandeur.

My journey began with the approach to the cathedral, and what an interesting entrance it is! The area around it feels steeped in history, with some beautifully intricate stonework.

Walking closer, I was drawn to the unique arched passageway leading up towards the main structure. It almost felt like stepping back in time, with the impressive stone staircase hinting at stories from centuries past. The ornate lantern hanging overhead added a touch of old-world charm.

Just beyond this entrance, nestled within an archway, I was pleasantly surprised to discover a beautifully arranged nativity scene. It was a lovely, festive touch, and the colourful figures against the ancient stone made for a striking contrast, especially with the subtle dappled lighting.

Continuing my ascent, another set of steps, complete with a distinctive blue handrail, guided me further up the grounds. The architecture here is a fantastic blend of robust stone and delicate decorative elements.

As I reached the higher ground, I was able to appreciate the full scale of the cathedral's impressive structure. Surrounded by a mix of evergreen and bare winter trees, the sheer size and intricate details of the building truly stand out. It’s remarkable how well it blends into the urban landscape while simultaneously commanding attention.

One of the most striking features, of course, is the towering clock tower. The beautiful blue clock face with its golden hands against the grey sky was particularly captivating. You can really get a sense of the craftsmanship that went into its construction, with every arch and buttress telling a story.

Taking a moment to wander around the perimeter, I noticed the peaceful pathways and scattered autumn leaves that still clung to the ground. Even in winter, there's a quiet beauty to the cathedral grounds.

Another charming entrance caught my eye, with its inviting open door and the warmth of the stonework. The lush bushes and smaller trees around it add a touch of softness to the grand architecture.

Finally, a wider shot encompassing the full glory of the cathedral from a slightly different angle. The intricate rooflines, the impressive tower, and the surrounding greenery all come together to create a truly magnificent sight. It makes you wonder about all the history and lives that have passed through its doors.

Even without venturing inside, Bradford Cathedral offers a profound sense of history and architectural splendor. It's a testament to enduring craftsmanship and a peaceful haven in the bustling city. If you find yourself in Bradford, I highly recommend taking some time to walk around its impressive exterior – you won't be disappointed!

A Glimpse into the Past

While the building is a stunning sight today, the site itself has been a place of Christian worship for nearly 1,400 years, dating back to Saxon times. The core of the present church, originally known as St. Peter's Parish Church, was largely rebuilt in the 15th century after an earlier stone church was burned down by Scottish raiders around 1327. The beautiful Perpendicular Gothic tower you can see today was added later, finished in 1508. The church was elevated to cathedral status in 1919 when the Diocese of Bradford was created, and subsequent extensions by architect Sir Edward Maufe in the mid-22th century gave the building its current, comprehensive form.

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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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All the images remain the copyright of Colin Green.

Chasing Winter Light: A Sunday Stroll in Sowerby Bridge

 Date: December 1, 2019 Location: Sowerby Bridge, West Yorkshire Gear: Nikon D3300

There is something uniquely crisp about the first day of December. It marks the meteorological start of winter, where the light sits lower in the sky, the shadows stretch longer, and the air bites just enough to make you walk a little faster.

Back in 2019, I took my Nikon D3300 out for a Sunday wander through Sowerby Bridge. This corner of the Calder Valley is a photographer's playground, offering a perfect triad of subjects: the industrial stillness of the Rochdale Canal, the raw power of the River Calder, and the skeletal beauty of Dixon Scar Woods.

Join me on a walk through the frost and the history of West Yorkshire.

The Glassy Stillness of the Cut

The walk began on the towpath of the Rochdale Canal. One of the joys of canal photography in winter is the lack of boat traffic, which turns the water into a near-perfect mirror. The greenery of summer has faded, revealing the structural "bones" of the landscape—the stone walls and the bare branches.

The long view along the Rochdale Canal. The blue sky reflects perfectly in the water, creating a peaceful, leading line through the valley.

Moving closer to the town centre, the relationship between the waterway and the industrial heritage becomes clearer. Sowerby Bridge was built on wool and engineering, and the old mills still tower over the water.

Where industry meets leisure. A boat sits quietly moored beneath the towering stone walls of the converted mills.

Crossing the Canal

Crossing over the Rochdale Canal, I headed toward the River Calder. Unlike the man-made tranquillity of the canal, the river is untamed and energetic. To get there, you often have to traverse the old infrastructure that stitches this town together.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the "Co-Op Bridge." It isn’t pretty in the conventional sense—it’s rusted, covered in graffiti, and utilitarian—but it has character. It frames the transition from the urban streets to the wilder woods perfectly.

The texture of the city. The rusted iron lattice and stone steps of the Co-Op Bridge provide a gritty contrast to the nature that surrounds it.

The Roar of Hollins Mill

Just downstream, the sound of water dominates the air. The weir at Hollins Mill is a reminder of the power that once drove the industry here. Even on a calm day, the water rushes over the stone steps with impressive force.

A wide view of Hollins Mill Weir. You can see how the houses cling to the hillside, overlooking the tumbling water.

I spent some time here playing with the shutter speed on the Nikon D3300 to capture the movement of the water crashing over the historic stonework.

The power of the Calder. The intricate stonework of the weir breaks the water into white foam as it heads downstream.

Into Dixon Scar Woods

Crossing the river leads you into Dixon Scar Woods. This area feels ancient, especially in winter. The leaves had mostly fallen, carpeting the floor in varying shades of brown and gold, allowing the low winter sun to pierce through the canopy in spectacular fashion.

Looking back at the river from the edge of the woods. The mossy trees dip their branches into the cold, blue water.

The highlight of the walk, however, was the light in the clearing. The sun was positioned just behind the tree line on the ridge, creating a stunning "starburst" effect that illuminated the frosty mist clinging to the meadow. It was one of those moments you have to be quick to capture before the clouds shift.

The golden hour strikes at midday. A perfect sunburst through the trees illuminates the frosty grass and a dog enjoying a morning run.

The quiet meadow. The frost lingers in the shadows of the valley floor, creating a cool, textured foreground against the wooded hill.

Final Thoughts

Looking back at these photos from 2019, I'm reminded that you don't need to travel far to find beautiful landscapes. Sowerby Bridge offers a density of photographic opportunities—from gritty industrial textures to ethereal woodland light—all within a mile's walk.

If you ever find yourself in West Yorkshire on a crisp winter day, take a walk down the cut and into the woods. Just don't forget your camera.

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All the images remain the copyright of Colin Green.

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.

Clicking any of the images should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

Please take a moment to share this post, follow me on social media, and explore my work on Clickasnap and Photo4Me using the links below. Your support means a lot!

All the images remain the copyright of Colin Green.