Uncovering the Urban Wild: A Stroll Along a Stretch of Halifax's Hebble Trail

There’s a unique charm in finding pockets of forgotten beauty amidst the urban sprawl. On June 13th, 2015, armed with a Polaroid is2132 camera, I ventured onto a stretch of the Hebble Trail in Halifax, specifically the path between Water Lane and Sedburgh Road. What I discovered was a captivating blend of industrial history, rebellious artistry, and nature's resilient reclaim.

The trail itself felt like stepping into a liminal space, a narrow canyon carved between towering walls. On one side, gabion basket walls, overflowing with stones and topped with wire fencing, hinted at past engineering and perhaps flood defences or land stabilization efforts. The raw, exposed rock and mesh provided a stark, almost brutalist aesthetic. Yet, clinging to these walls, and in every available crevice, was an explosion of tenacious greenery – ferns, weeds, and wild grasses pushing through, softening the edges of the man-made structures.

Across the path, older, more ornate brickwork, possibly remnants of bygone industrial buildings, stood as a testament to Halifax's rich manufacturing past. Arched window openings, now mostly bricked in or obscured, whispered stories of bustling factories and forgotten laborers. These walls, however, weren't silent. They were alive with a riot of colour and expression – vibrant graffiti tags, intricate murals, and bold statements painted by countless anonymous artists. One image in particular, a striking green, skull-like creature with glowing red eyes, captured the raw energy and subversive spirit of this urban art gallery.

Walking deeper into this concrete canyon, the path twisted and turned, at times narrowing, at others opening slightly to reveal glimpses of the sky. The ground underfoot shifted from rough asphalt, dappled with moss and fallen leaves, to uneven cobblestones, suggesting an older pathway that once served a different purpose. Litter, unfortunately, was also a constant companion – discarded papers, plastic, and general debris adding to the raw, untamed feel of the place. It's a reminder that even in these hidden gems, the challenges of urban neglect are present.

One of the most intriguing aspects was the presence of the Hebble Brook itself. Peeking through gaps in the foliage and under archways, the dark, fast-flowing water added another layer to the landscape. Its ceaseless movement contrasted with the static permanence of the walls, a natural force carving its way through the man-made environment. The way the brook disappeared into dark culverts and reappeared further along added a sense of mystery, making me wonder what other hidden passages and secrets lay beyond.

The overall impression was one of stark beauty and resilient life. It’s a place where nature battles concrete, where history meets modernity, and where anonymous artists leave their mark. The light shifted throughout my walk – some sections were bathed in bright, diffused light, while others, particularly where the path dipped under structures or narrowed, were shrouded in a captivating gloom. The black and white image, in particular, stripped away the colour to highlight the textures, the stark contrasts, and the interplay of light and shadow, emphasizing the raw, almost melancholic beauty of the trail.

The Hebble Trail, at least this section of it, isn't manicured or picturesque in the traditional sense. It's grittier, more authentic, and in its own way, incredibly beautiful. It's a testament to how urban spaces can evolve, becoming canvases for expression, havens for wildlife, and intriguing pathways for those willing to look beyond the obvious. My Polaroid captured not just images, but the very essence of this urban wild – a truly memorable and inspiring stroll.

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All the pictures remain the copyright of Colin Green.

The Closed All Saints Church at Whitley

There's a certain melancholic beauty to a building that has outlived its original purpose, especially a church. Standing silent amidst the changing seasons, these structures become quiet sentinels, holding stories in their very stones. Such is the case with the closed All Saints Church at Whitley, a poignant landmark spotted from the A19, near junction 34 of the M62.

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit this intriguing site, drawn by its gothic charm and the air of quiet mystery that surrounds it. Approaching the church, the first thing that strikes you is its isolation. Surrounded by tall, unkempt grass and framed by mature trees, it feels like a forgotten piece of history, tucked away just out of reach. My Canon R100 was ready, eager to capture its essence, but a firmly padlocked gate barred access to the grounds. While the temptation to explore further was strong, my respect for property and the distinction between a photographer and an urban explorer kept me to the roadside. This meant the hidden side of the church remained unseen, adding to its enigmatic allure, but what was visible offered plenty to ponder.

The architecture itself speaks volumes. Built of a warm, honey-toned stone, characteristic of many Yorkshire churches, All Saints features classic Gothic Revival elements: lancet windows with elegant tracery, a steeply pitched roof, and a prominent bell tower crowned with a modest spire. Even from a distance, the craftsmanship is evident, hinting at a time when this building was the heart of the Whitley community. The bell, still visible in its belfry, seems to stand in eternal readiness, though its chime has long been silenced.

The overcast sky on that 10th November 2025 only enhanced the church's evocative atmosphere, casting it in a dramatic light. In black and white, the church takes on an even more timeless quality, its textures and forms emphasized against the brooding sky. It’s a scene that prompts reflection: what stories unfolded within these walls? What baptisms, weddings, and funerals did this church witness?

A Glimpse into Whitley's Past

While the exact opening and closing dates of All Saints Church can be elusive without deeper archival research, its architectural style suggests it likely dates from the Victorian era, a period of significant church building and restoration across England. Villages like Whitley, though now somewhat overshadowed by major road networks, would have once been vibrant agricultural communities. The church would have been more than just a place of worship; it would have been the social hub, a place for community gatherings, local news, and spiritual guidance.

The decision to close a church is never taken lightly. It often reflects changing demographics, dwindling congregations, and the significant financial burden of maintaining old, often listed, buildings. For All Saints, its closure likely marks a shift in the local population, perhaps with residents moving to larger towns or finding their spiritual homes elsewhere.

The Future of All Saints

So, what becomes of a beautiful, closed church like All Saints? Its future is uncertain, but there are several possibilities:

• Dereliction: Sadly, some churches fall into disrepair, becoming victims of the elements and neglect. Given its sturdy construction, All Saints appears to have resisted this fate for now, but without intervention, it's a risk.

• Conversion: Many redundant churches find new life through conversion into homes, community centres, art studios, or even unique commercial spaces. This requires sensitive planning to preserve the architectural integrity while adapting it for modern use.

• Preservation by a Trust: Organizations like The Churches Conservation Trust acquire and care for historic churches no longer needed for regular worship, ensuring their preservation for future generations to enjoy.

• Occasional Use: Sometimes, a closed church might still be used for special services, local events, or as a filming location, though regular public access remains limited.

For now, All Saints Church at Whitley stands as a beautiful, silent monument to its past, a landmark that prompts passers-by to pause and reflect. It's a reminder of the enduring power of architecture and the ever-changing tapestry of rural England. My brief encounter with it, even from behind a locked gate, left a lasting impression, a sense of history whispered on the wind that sweeps across the fields of Whitley.

I took these pictures on the 10th November 2025 with a Canon r100, Clicking either of them should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

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All the pictures remain the copyright of Colin Green.

A Night at the Gas Works Bridge: Sowerby Bridge's Industrial Past

Sowerby Bridge, a town steeped in industrial history, offers a unique blend of rugged Pennine landscape and a rich heritage shaped by its canals and rivers. As the sun sets and the streetlights cast a warm, golden glow, places like the Gas Works Bridge come to life, telling a story of a bygone era.

Standing on this unassuming pedestrian bridge over the River Calder, you're not just looking at a waterway; you're looking at the lifeblood of an industrial revolution. The River Calder, flowing beneath the bridge, was a key artery for trade, powering the textile mills and feeding the Calder and Hebble Navigation and the Rochdale Canal, which meet just a stone's throw away. This confluence of waterways made Sowerby Bridge a vital trans-shipment hub, connecting the industrial heartland of Yorkshire to the ports of Hull and Liverpool.

But the Gas Works Bridge has its own fascinating history, one that's closely tied to the very name it bears. Built in 1816, this bridge is a significant piece of engineering. Made of cast iron by Aydon and Elwell of Shelf Ironworks in Bradford, it's one of the earliest surviving cast-iron bridges in the Calderdale area. Originally a road bridge, it was widened in the mid-19th century with a steel overlay, and today it serves as a footpath, a quiet walkway for those looking to connect with the town's past.

The bridge's name, however, isn't just a label—it's a historical marker. It was built for Thomas Fearnside & Son of Mearclough Bottom Mill, but it’s the nearby gas works that gave it its enduring name. The former gas works site, located near the bridge, was a crucial part of the town's infrastructure, supplying power for streetlights, factories, and homes. In fact, a gas-making plant was installed in Sowerby Bridge as early as 1805, a remarkably early example of commercial gas production. Though the gas works closed in 1954, the bridge remains as a testament to this important part of Sowerby Bridge's industrial legacy.

As you stand on the bridge at night, the lights of the town and the distant beacon of Wainhouse Tower on the hill create a striking contrast against the dark sky and the reflective surface of the river. The photos capture this atmosphere perfectly—the warmth of the lamplight, the cool blue of the distant town, and the haunting silhouette of bare winter trees. It's a scene that bridges the past and present, a quiet moment of reflection in a place that once thrummed with the energy of industry and innovation. The Gas Works Bridge is more than just a crossing; it's a silent guardian of Sowerby Bridge's history, a place where you can feel the echoes of its industrious past in the calm of the night.

I took these pictures on the 29th December 2018 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 pictures remain the copyright of Colin Green.

The Secret Stairways of Halifax: A Journey Up the Snickets

In the heart of West Yorkshire lies a town where history is etched into every stone wall and winding street. Halifax is a place of grand Victorian architecture and industrial heritage, but its true character is often found in the hidden corners and forgotten paths. For those with a curious spirit, these places are an invitation to step back in time. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the town's numerous snickets, narrow alleyways or passages that often take the form of steep, cobbled stairways.

Inspired by a recent trip to Old Lane near Boothtown, I captured two such snickets, each a unique testament to the town's past.

Snicket 1: The Gentle Ascent

The first snicket appears almost as an open invitation. Its worn stone steps are wide, leading up a gradual slope between two sturdy stone walls. On the left, a weathered wooden fence hints at a private garden, while a bare tree stands as a silent sentinel. The path is littered with autumn leaves, and the wet cobbles gleam under the grey sky.

This snicket feels like a well-trodden path, a practical shortcut used by generations of locals. It's a connection between two worlds: the quiet residential street below and whatever lies at the top. The image evokes a sense of tranquillity, a brief moment of quiet contemplation before returning to the rhythm of daily life.

Snicket 2: The Vertical Climb

Just a short distance away, the second snicket presents a stark contrast. This is not a path for the faint of heart. Narrow and steep, it rises like a vertical ribbon of stone. A metal handrail runs alongside the towering stone wall, a necessary aid for those brave enough to make the climb. The walls themselves are a patchwork of different-sized stones, telling a story of repairs and rebuilds over the decades. The vegetation on the left, overgrown and wild, adds to the feeling of a passage carved directly from the landscape itself.

This snicket is a challenge, a true "Boothtown" climb that speaks to the rugged terrain of the area. It feels more secluded and intimate than the first, a hidden passage known only to those who need to use it. It is a reminder that in Halifax, some of the most beautiful and interesting places require a bit of effort to discover.

Why We Love the Snickets

These images, captured in stark black and white, highlight the texture and form of these pathways, stripping away the distractions of colour to reveal their raw, historical beauty. They show us that a snicket is more than just a shortcut; it's a living part of the community's history. These aren't manicured tourist attractions; they are the veins and arteries of the town, connecting homes, streets, and people. They are a physical representation of the town's resilience and its enduring spirit.

Next time you find yourself in Halifax, I encourage you to look beyond the main roads. Seek out a snicket. Take a moment to feel the history under your feet and imagine the countless journeys that have been made on those very same stones. You might just discover a new appreciation for the secret stairways that define this incredible town.

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All the pictures remain the copyright of Colin Green. These were taken with a Nikon d3300 on the 23rd December 2023.