Steeped in History: A Visit to Steep Lane Baptist Chapel, Sowerby (June 2015)

Back in June 2015, armed with my Polaroid iS2132 bridge camera, I took a series of photographs around the exterior of Steep Lane Baptist Chapel in Sowerby, near Halifax. These images, rendered in a classic monochrome, perfectly capture the enduring character of this historic building and its picturesque Pennine setting.

Walking around chapels like this always sparks a sense of connection to the past, and Steep Lane is no exception. It's a place that tells a story not just of faith, but of community, industry, and the landscape itself.

A Beacon of Faith on the Hillside

The first image captures the chapel's impressive façade. Built of local stone, its Georgian-style architecture is both sturdy and elegant. Above the entrance, the inscription "BAPTIST CHAPEL" is clearly visible, along with the date of its construction or significant renovation. This chapel was built in 1808, replacing an earlier meeting house from 1754, making it a truly venerable institution in the area. The circular motif above the inscription, perhaps a sunburst or wheel, adds a touch of decorative flair.

The notice board on the right, even in monochrome, hints at the continued life within: "STEEP LANE BAPTIST CHAPEL, SOWERBY. Worshipping God for over 250 years." It’s incredible to think of the generations who have passed through those doors.

Resting in the Pennine Landscape

The other photographs provide a broader context, showcasing the chapel's relationship with its environment.

• The Graveyard: The second image looks towards the side of the chapel, with its arched windows, framed by an ancient-looking graveyard. The old headstones, some leaning, some ornate, are testament to the countless lives connected to this chapel and the surrounding community. The long grass and wildflowers give it a natural, almost wild beauty.

• Nestled in the Valley: The wider shots (Images 3 and 4) truly bring home the chapel's location. It sits proudly on the hillside, overlooking the vast, undulating landscape of the Pennine valleys. The drystone walls crisscrossing the fields, the distant farmhouses, and the scattered trees all paint a picture of rural England, yet still within sight of the industrial heartlands that once thrived nearby. The small houses with their characteristic stone roofs are typical of the Sowerby area.

Historical Footnotes

Steep Lane Baptist Chapel holds significant historical importance:

• Early Nonconformity: Nonconformist chapels like Steep Lane were vital centres of community life in the industrialising North of England. They provided not only spiritual guidance but also education and social support for their congregations, many of whom were involved in the burgeoning textile industries of the region.

• A Continuous Presence: For over two centuries, this chapel has served its community, witnessing immense change in Sowerby and beyond. Its continued presence is a testament to the enduring faith and spirit of the people who built and maintained it.

Capturing these images with a camera that itself feels a little nostalgic (a Polaroid bridge camera!) seems fitting for such a timeless subject. This collection of photographs isn't just about a building; it's about the history, the community, and the rugged beauty of a very special corner of Yorkshire.

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Revisited: A Glimpse into Britain's Hidden War History

I've always been fascinated by the quiet, unassuming places that hold powerful stories from our past. Years ago, I visited the remains of a World War II Operation Starfish site near Sowerby. On August 16, 2022, armed with a much better camera—my Nikon D3300—I decided to return, knowing that while the scenery would be the same, the story it told would feel just as poignant.

And in many ways, nothing had changed. The sprawling moorland landscape remained a beautiful, desolate expanse. The old brick bunker, a silent sentinel on the hill, was exactly as I remembered it. The only real difference was the unfortunate addition of more rubbish and a bit of minor damage to the brickwork, a sad mark left by time and neglect.

This remote spot was once part of a crucial large-scale deception plan known as Operation Starfish. Developed by Colonel John Turner after the devastating bombing of Coventry in November 1940, the plan was a brilliant, if simple, ruse to protect Britain's cities. The idea was to create large-scale decoys that would mimic the glow of bombed-out cities and industrial targets, tricking German bombers into dropping their payloads in harmless, open countryside.

The sites were strategically located about four miles from their intended targets. In the fields surrounding the bunker, metal troughs were hidden, ready to be filled with a volatile mix of creosote, coal, and diesel oil. When enemy bombers were overhead, these troughs would be set alight, creating a convincing imitation of a city on fire. After a short period—usually about 15 minutes—water would be added to the fire, causing a burst of flames and smoke that mimicked a secondary explosion, signaling a direct hit to the bombers flying high above.

The Sowerby site was specifically designed to be a decoy for major industrial centers and railway junctions. Its blazing fires would have been intended to lure bombers away from the cities of Manchester and Leeds, as well as the vital railway goods yards in nearby Greetland, Halifax, Todmorden, Littleborough, and Rochdale.

At the heart of the operation was a two-room bunker, which, remarkably, still stands today. Protected by a blast wall, it would have been a small, claustrophobic space where the brave men operating the decoy would have lived and worked, orchestrating the fiery deception. The images I took, particularly those from inside the bunker, show a space now filled with rubble and rubbish, a stark contrast to the purpose it once served. Yet, even in its neglected state, you can feel the history, the tension, and the ingenuity that once existed within those walls.

These hidden relics of Operation Starfish serve as powerful reminders of the lengths to which a nation will go to defend itself. They are memorials not of grand battles, but of quiet, strategic brilliance, and of the forgotten individuals who played a crucial part in protecting their country.

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

The blast door pictured in front of the bunkers main entrance

Inside the bunker on the left hand side of the entrance is this former control
room. Now filling up with rubbish that has been left behind.

Looking north over the bunker. In the foreground can be seen some
brickworks, probably housed washrooms and generators. Their isn't much
evidence of the site ever being linked to mains electric.

The former control room to the right hand side of the entrance.

Looking west away from the bunkers entrance, taken from the roof I
assume the site in front of me would have housed the metal pans
that created the dummy lighting effect.

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Decoying the Blitz: Uncovering the Remains of Operation Starfish on Sowerby Moor

 High on the expansive moors above Sowerby, amidst the windswept grasses, stand the unassuming brick and concrete remains of a wartime secret. These structures, captured in striking black and white on a clear summer's day in June 2015, are the remnants of an "Operation Starfish" decoy site, a ingenious and desperate measure to divert the devastating bombs of the German Luftwaffe during the dark days of the Blitz.

The year is 1940. British cities were enduring relentless aerial bombardment, with the almost complete destruction of Coventry in November serving as a stark and horrifying example of the enemy's destructive power. In response to this escalating threat, engineer and retired Air Ministry officer Colonel John Turner was tasked with expanding his existing "K" and "Q" sites. These earlier decoys were designed to mimic factories and airfields, but the scale of the destruction demanded a new approach. Turner's expanded vision led to the creation of "SF" sites – "SF" standing for "special fire" – intended to replicate the fiery glow of nearby major cities under attack. While initially designated "SF," a site near Bristol was given the evocative codename "Starfish," and this name ultimately stuck for all subsequent sites.

One such vital "Starfish" site was strategically established on the Sowerby moors. Its purpose was audacious: to act as a decoy for the industrial powerhouses of Leeds and Manchester, as well as the crucial railway goods yards at Greetland and major railway junctions at Todmorden, Halifax, and Rochdale. The hope was that enemy bombers, drawn by the deceptive fires, would unleash their deadly payloads upon the empty moorland instead of their intended targets.

The construction of these sites was remarkably clever. During daylight hours, they were designed to blend seamlessly into the landscape, often disguised to resemble innocent farm buildings. However, their true function lay hidden beneath the vegetation. The surrounding area was crisscrossed with metal troughs, concealed from above, connected to tanks filled with oil and water. These troughs were also primed with creosote and coal. When an air raid was anticipated, a carefully orchestrated pyrotechnic display would begin. Approximately 15 minutes after the initial ignition of the combustibles, water would be released into the hot pans, creating a spectacular burst of flame and a loud explosion. This dramatic effect was specifically designed to confuse enemy bombers, leading them to believe they had successfully hit a populated, burning urban area.

The heart of this deception lay within the site's control bunker. As seen in the photographs, the bunker was a two-room control area, accessed by a short passage. Crucially, this entrance was protected by a substantial blast wall, a testament to the dangers faced by the personnel operating these decoys. Despite over 70 years having passed since these images were captured in 2015, the bunker and its accompanying blast wall remain in remarkably good condition, a durable brick and concrete monument to a forgotten aspect of wartime defence. The interior shots reveal the stark, empty rooms, littered with debris but still recognisably a former operational space.

Today, there is little else surrounding these structures to hint at their significant historical role. The expansive moorland stretches out, seemingly undisturbed, making the discovery of these remains even more poignant. They stand as a silent, rugged tribute to the ingenuity and resilience of those who worked tirelessly to protect Britain's cities during one of its darkest hours. The Sowerby Starfish site is a tangible link to a hidden chapter of the Second World War, where fire and deception played a crucial role in safeguarding lives and industry.

All photographs were taken on 16 June 2015 using a Polaroid IS2132 bridge camera, clicking any of them should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

Inside the right side control room.

The left side control room.

Taken stood atop the bunker looking in the direction of Lancashire.
The blast wall was in excellent condition.

The only entrance / exit to the bunker. I imagine it could have
got quite claustrophobic inside.

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Beneath the Hill: Sowerby Tunnel

Ever wondered about the hidden passages that connect our towns and landscapes? Just a short stretch along the Caldervale line, nestled between Sowerby Bridge and Luddendenfoot, lies one such fascinating piece of railway history: Sowerby Tunnel. This brief video I've put together offers a glimpse into its past and present, featuring both striking images and footage collected over the last six years.

Built way back in 1840 by the pioneering Manchester & Leeds Railway, this tunnel isn't just a conduit for trains; it's a transition point. Stretching for approximately 657 yards, its eastern portal emerges directly from the bustling, industrial landscape of Sowerby Bridge. Yet, as you journey through its dark embrace, you're transported to a different world, exiting its western portal into the greener, more open country setting that gives way to Sowerby, Tenterfields, and eventually Luddendenfoot.

Interestingly, Sowerby Tunnel goes by many names. Locals often call it Dixy Tunnel, but it's also known simply as Long Tunnel or, perhaps most fittingly, Cemetery Tunnel, given that it runs directly underneath Sowerby Bridge Cemetery and the picturesque Dixon Scar Woods.

One of the pictures featured in the video, taken near the tunnel's western portal, was captured from a unique vantage point directly on the track. I want to be absolutely clear: this was done with full permission, on a day when no trains were running, and with strict adherence to all health and safety regulations. It is incredibly dangerous and illegal to enter railway property where trains operate. Doing so can lead to severe injury or even death. Please, for your safety, never trespass on railway lines or property.

Join me in the video to explore this intriguing piece of our local railway heritage!

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Operation Starfish: Deceiving the Luftwaffe Over Sowerby

The night skies of World War II were a theatre of terror, illuminated by the deadly dance of bomber streams and the fiery destruction they wrought. In the desperate struggle for survival, Britain turned to ingenious deception, and one of its most remarkable stratagems was Operation Starfish. This ambitious project aimed to divert German bombers from their intended targets, safeguarding vital industrial cities and infrastructure.

The Shadow of Coventry:

The catalyst for Operation Starfish was the devastating blitz on Coventry in November 1940. The near-total destruction of this historic city underscored the Luftwaffe's relentless efficiency and the urgent need for effective countermeasures. Colonel John Turner, a visionary engineer, conceived the idea of creating elaborate decoy sites that would mimic the appearance of burning cities from the air.

The Starfish Strategy:

These decoy sites, known as "Starfish" sites, were strategically located approximately four miles from targeted urban areas. They were designed to replicate the chaos and inferno of a bombing raid. The ingenious method involved a network of metal troughs laid through the surrounding fields, filled with a volatile mixture of creosote, coal, and diesel oil. When German bombers approached, these troughs would be ignited, creating a convincing illusion of a city ablaze. After a carefully timed interval, typically around 15 minutes, water would be added to the burning mixture, producing a dramatic explosion and a towering burst of flame. This spectacle was intended to convince the overhead bombers that they had successfully hit their target, prompting them to release their remaining payloads on the decoy site rather than the intended city.

Sowerby's Secret Role:

In the heart of West Yorkshire, the landscape surrounding Sowerby played a crucial role in this deception. The Sowerby Starfish site was specifically designed to protect the industrial cities of Manchester and Leeds, as well as the vital railway goods yards at Greetland, Halifax, Todmorden, Littleborough, and Rochdale. These railway hubs were critical for transporting supplies and munitions, making them prime targets for German bombers.

A Glimpse into the Past:

Today, the physical remnants of Sowerby's Starfish site are sparse, but a tangible link to this clandestine operation remains: a two-room bunker. This sturdy structure, accessed through a short passage protected by a blast wall, stands as a silent testament to the ingenuity and determination of those who worked to protect their communities. The lack of extensive surface evidence speaks to the secrecy surrounding these operations, a necessity in wartime.

A Visual Record:

The accompanying photographs, captured on June 16, 2015, with a Polaroid is2132 bridge camera, offer a visual glimpse into the present-day landscape of the Sowerby site. While the fields may appear tranquil, they hold the echoes of a dramatic and vital chapter in British wartime history.

The Legacy of Deception:

Operation Starfish was a testament to the power of strategic deception. It played a significant role in diverting German bombers, saving countless lives and protecting critical infrastructure. The sites, like the one at Sowerby, represent a fascinating blend of engineering ingenuity and wartime necessity. While the physical scars may have faded, the story of Operation Starfish remains a compelling reminder of the resourcefulness and resilience displayed during one of history's darkest periods.

Further Exploration:

For those interested in learning more about Operation Starfish, further research into Colonel John Turner's work and the broader context of British wartime deception is highly recommended. Local historical societies and archives may also hold valuable information about the specific role of the Sowerby site.

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All the images remain the copyright of Colin Green.