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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Unveiling the Secrets of the Hollins Tunnel and Wier: A Glimpse into Sowerby Bridge's Industrial Past

Recently, I ventured out with my camera to capture a couple of short film clips showcasing a fascinating corner of Sowerby Bridge: the weir and the enigmatic Hollins Tunnel. These aren't just any local landmarks; they're tangible links to our industrial heritage, whispering tales of a time when waterways were the lifeblood of commerce. You can now find these glimpses of history on my YouTube channel 

One of the stars of these clips is Hollins Tunnel, or Hollins Mill Tunnel as it's also known. More than just a passage beneath Hollins Mill Lane, this canal tunnel stands as a testament to the ambitious engineering feats of over two centuries ago. Imagine this: back in 1804, this very tunnel played a crucial role in the opening of a vital artery – a canal connecting the bustling Calder & Hebble Navigation right here in Sowerby Bridge with the distant Bridgewater Canal in Manchester. It's a connection that fuelled trade and transformed the landscape.

What strikes me most about Hollins Tunnel is its sheer scale. Stretching out as the longest canal tunnel in Yorkshire, it possesses a certain imposing presence, especially when you step into its cool, damp interior. There's a palpable sense of history within those stone walls, a feeling of countless boats having passed through its darkness, laden with goods and the aspirations of a bygone era.

My filming on the 6th of December 2018 aimed to capture this duality. At either end of the tunnel, you can witness the contrast between the daylight and the encroaching shadows. But it's inside the tunnel where the atmosphere truly shifts. The air grows still and carries a damp chill, the only sounds perhaps the echoing drip of water or the rustle of unseen life. It can feel quite an intimidating place in the dark, a silent sentinel guarding the secrets of the past.

These short clips are more than just visual snapshots; they're an invitation to connect with a piece of Sowerby Bridge's identity. They offer a moment to consider the ingenuity and sheer hard work that went into creating these waterways and the tunnels that facilitated their reach. I hope you'll take a few moments to watch them and perhaps gain a new appreciation for the enduring legacy of Hollins.

Hollins Mill Weir.

Cruising along the tranquil Calder and Hebble Navigation near Sowerby Bridge, a subtle yet persistent murmur often drifts through the still air within the canal tunnel. It's the voice of Hollins Mill Weir, a historic structure lying just beyond the darkness, so close you can almost feel its spray, yet often remaining just out of sight.

For generations, this now-partially submerged cascade wasn't just a sound; it was the lifeblood of the bustling mills that once defined this stretch of the Calder Valley. These mills, now consigned to the annals of history and the leveled earth, hummed with the energy harnessed by the very water that now tumbles over the weir. Imagine the rhythmic thrum of machinery, powered by the relentless force of the river – a stark contrast to the peaceful quietude that envelops the canal today. The weir, in its current silent vigil, stands as a poignant monument to that industrious past, a stone sentinel whispering tales of a vibrant era.

However, the weir's story isn't just one of bygone industry. It's also a testament to the raw power of nature and the resilience of the landscape. The devastating Boxing Day floods of 2015 ripped through the Calder Valley with terrifying force, and Hollins Mill Weir was not spared. A significant section of its structure succumbed to the deluge, a stark reminder of the day the river turned from a source of power to an agent of destruction. While the visual evidence of this damage might be elusive in a fleeting glimpse from the canal, the absence is a palpable part of the weir's current narrative.

On a crisp December 6th, the water flowed over the remaining stones, perhaps carrying echoes of both its industrious past and its more recent battering. To listen to the weir's constant rush is to connect with layers of history – the ingenuity of those who harnessed its power, the destructive force of the floods, and the quiet perseverance of a landmark that continues to shape the soundscape of this waterway. It's a reminder that even in apparent stillness, the past continues to resonate.

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