Unveiling History: A Dawn Walk at Baitings Dam

The sun began its slow ascent over the moorland, painting the sky in a blaze of gold and orange. The air, still cool from the night, held the promise of another warm day. But this wasn't just any sunrise; this was a moment of revelation at Baitings Dam, a reservoir that had, for a brief time, relinquished its hold on a forgotten piece of history.

Constructed to quench the thirst of Wakefield, Baitings Dam stands as a testament to human ingenuity. Completed in 1956 after eight years of arduous work and a cost of £1.4 million, it's the higher of two dams that harness the flow of the River Ryburn. Its lower sibling, Ryburn Dam, built in 1933, shares the task of supplying water to the city.

But with its completion came a bittersweet sacrifice: a small hamlet named Baitings was submerged beneath its rising waters. And with it, an ancient packhorse bridge, a vital link between the historic counties of Lancashire and Yorkshire, was lost to sight. Or so it seemed.

As I arrived on the morning of August 19th, 2022, the low water level—a result of the summer's heat—had performed a spectacular act of unveiling. The exposed, cracked earth of the reservoir bed stretched out before me, a stark contrast to the shimmering water that remained. And there, revealed in all its stoic glory, stood the old packhorse bridge.

For decades, this bridge has been a ghostly landmark, its existence a matter of local lore. While sensationalized reports claimed its first appearance in over 50 years, locals know better. This was not a unique event, but rather a more frequent occurrence in recent years, a consequence of the recurring summer heatwaves that are becoming the new norm in the UK. I’ve seen it at least three times in the last few years alone.

Standing by its side is a more modern successor: the concrete structure of Back O'th Heights Bridge. This bridge, with its sturdy pillars reaching down to the current waterline, offers a powerful visual lesson. The tell tale marks just beneath the road level show just how high the water can rise, a humbling reminder of the dam’s true capacity. When full, Baitings Dam holds an astounding 113 million cubic feet of water, or over 700 million gallons.

The River Ryburn, born from the run-off of the surrounding moorland, begins its journey here, flowing down the valley to eventually meet the River Calder at Sowerby Bridge, about six miles away. The dam is an integral part of this local landscape, and seeing it in this state of low ebb offered a unique perspective on its scale and the history it holds.

As the sun fully crested the horizon, its light caught the water's surface, creating a dazzling golden path that led directly to the rising sun. The pylon lines, a modern addition to the landscape, stretched across the sky, their silhouettes a stark line against the brilliant morning light. It was a beautiful, almost surreal scene.

For a photographer, Baitings Dam in this state is a dream. Every detail, from the cracked earth to the exposed foundations of the modern bridge and the newly visible old packhorse bridge, tells a story. And on this particular morning, using my Nikon d3300, I had the privilege of capturing a few chapters of that story as it unfolded under the golden light of a new day.

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The tide marks underneath Back O'th Heights Bridge show the dams level when full.

The former bridge is submerged for most of the year, it's appearances becoming
more frequent in recent years.

The former bridge can be seen beyond it's replacement, this gives an idea of how low
the water level has dropped due to the recent dry weather.

The waterless back of the dam beyond the former bridge, the water level normally
hiding the river that feeds it.

I took this further up the A58 towards Rochdale, looking across the fields in the direction
of the bridges and Baitings Dam.

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Burnley Barracks: A Hidden Gem on the East Lancashire Line

Ever heard of a request stop? It's a bit like an old-fashioned bus stop, but for trains. You have to actively let the driver know you want to get on or off. That's exactly the kind of place Burnley Barracks is—a small, unassuming station on the East Lancashire Line, but one with a surprisingly rich history.

The station, which opened way back in 1848, was originally known as Burnley Westgate and served as the temporary terminus for the line. It was only meant to be a short-lived stop, but the rapid development of the area, including a new army barracks, led to its reopening in 1851. Renamed Burnley Barracks after the nearby military base, the station became a local hub, serving passengers while the larger stations at Rose Grove and Bank Top (now Burnley Central) handled the freight.

Today, Burnley Barracks is a simple affair. As you can see from the photos, the station has a single platform, a basic shelter, and a card-only ticket machine. It offers step-free access and relies on on-street parking, but its charm lies in its simplicity. It’s a quiet spot, often overlooked, but it's a vital link for the local community.

The station's history is written in its very structure. The old eastbound platform, which was taken out of use when the line was singled in 1986, is now largely overgrown and hidden from view. It's a subtle reminder of a busier past, a time when the station had two platforms and a footbridge connecting them.

While passenger numbers have fluctuated over the years—dropping significantly after the army barracks closed in 1898 and local slum clearances in the 1960s and 70s—they've been on the rise in recent years. This is thanks to new housing developments and a growing trend of people opting for public transport over their cars.

Burnley Barracks is more than just a stop on the line; it’s a living piece of local history. It's a testament to the changes in the area, from its military past to its modern residential communities. On my recent visit, it was the busiest of the eight stations I visited on the East Lancashire Line, with several passengers boarding and alighting the train.

There's a proposal to close the station should the line be upgraded, but for now, Burnley Barracks remains a quiet, functional, and fascinating part of the railway network. It’s a small station with a big story, a true hidden gem just waiting to be discovered.

So next time you're on the East Lancashire Line, why not make a request stop at Burnley Barracks? You might just find yourself stepping back in time.

The pictures were taken with a Nikon d3300 on the 19th August 2022, clicking any of them below should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

Colne bound training just leaving. It would 45 minutes before another train passed through the station.
There is 1 train in each direction approx. every hour.

The entrance sign to the station

The station looking west from the end of the platform. Despite Junction Street Bridge (Foreground)
and Padiham Road Bridge (Background) passing over the station, the 2 platforms were connected
by a wooden passenger bridge sighted between the 2. I assume this was removed when the line
was singled in the 1980's, but it may have been earlier as there is evidence on another site entrance
just off Junction Street Bridge.

The station looking eastward (towards Colne) from the end of the platform. The stations only
facilities are the shelter seen before the bridge and a ticket machine to my right
just out of shot.

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A Sunrise Walk at Baitings Dam

There's a certain magic to an early morning walk, especially when you're there to witness a landscape change before your eyes. Baitings Dam has been a regular fixture in the local news lately, with the unusually low water levels exposing secrets that are usually hidden beneath the surface. While some reports claim the old packhorse bridge has been seen for the first time in 50 years, that’s not quite right. In a world of changing weather patterns, what was once a rare sight is now happening every couple of years.

Just a few days ago, on August 19, 2022, I got up before the sun to capture a moment that beautifully illustrates this change. With my Nikon D3300 in hand, I headed to the dam, a place I often walk my dogs. As the sun began to rise, it cast a golden light over the landscape, illuminating a scene that tells a story of both nature and human history.

In the foreground, the original packhorse bridge stands revealed. This historic crossing once spanned the River Ryburn, long before the construction of Baitings Dam was completed in 1956. It's a humbling sight, a testament to a time when travel and trade relied on these simple, sturdy stone structures.

Just behind it, the more modern Back O'th Heights bridge seems to float above the water, a new path built for a new era. When the dam is full, the water level comes within just a couple of feet of this bridge, making the presence of the old one below even more remarkable.

As the sun climbed higher, it bathed the entire scene in a stunning glow. Its light caught the dam's headwall in the distance, a massive structure holding back the water that has both created this modern reservoir and submerged the landscape of the past.

This sunrise at Baitings Dam was a powerful reminder that history is not just found in museums or books; it's often right beneath our feet, waiting for the right moment to be revealed.

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An Underground Oasis: Discovering Jameos del Agua in Lanzarote

On July 30, 2013, with my Samsung Galaxy Tablet, I had the pleasure of exploring one of Lanzarote's most extraordinary attractions: Jameos del Agua. This unique site is a brilliant fusion of art, nature, and architecture, born from a collapsed volcanic tube and transformed into a cultural center by the visionary artist and architect, César Manrique.

The journey begins as you descend into the cool, dark embrace of the earth. The air, thick with the scent of salt and rock, leads you into a subterranean world. The most captivating sight is the saltwater lake, a tranquil body of water nestled deep within the cavern. Its waters are home to a rare and fascinating creature: the squat lobster. These tiny, white, and blind crustaceans are an endemic species, found nowhere else on Earth. Peering into the crystal-clear water, you can spot them scuttling along the rocks, a silent community thriving in the perpetual darkness.

Further into the cavern, the space opens up, revealing a breathtaking auditorium carved directly from the volcanic rock. The stage and seating are a testament to Manrique's genius, blending seamlessly with the natural contours of the cave. I can only imagine the incredible acoustics and the magical atmosphere of a concert held in such a unique venue.

Emerging from the depths, you are greeted by an explosion of light and color. The path leads to a sun-drenched pool area, a stark and beautiful contrast to the dark cavern below. The stunningly white pool, surrounded by black volcanic rock and vibrant green palms, is an image of pure, tranquil beauty. It is said that only the King of Spain is allowed to swim in this pool, adding to the mystique of the place.

The gardens surrounding the pool are a lush haven, with native plants thriving in the volcanic soil. As you climb the stairs, you are treated to a view of the pool from above, and the unique architecture continues to impress. The stairs themselves, with their abstract design and a natural light source filtering down from an opening in the cave ceiling, feel like a piece of art in their own right.

Jameos del Agua first opened to the public in 1966, and it truly embodies César Manrique’s philosophy of harmonizing art with nature. By preserving the natural landscape and enhancing it with his creative touch, he created a place that is not just an attraction, but an experience. It's a reminder of the power of art to transform, and the incredible beauty that can arise when we work in harmony with the natural world.

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The lobster sign at the entrance.

The swimming pool area, the guide I was with claimed that only the King
of Spain is allowed to swim here.

The stairs up from the saltwater cave to the swimming pool
and bar area.

The auditorium, the guide claimed gives one of the best sounds around.

The saltwater cave that is home to the squat lobster.

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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.

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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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Lost to the Trees: Unearthing History in Jumble Hole Clough

There’s a unique feeling that comes from stumbling upon a forgotten corner of history, a place where nature has begun to reclaim what was once a bustling part of human life. On May 4, 2022, I had one of those moments while walking through Jumble Hole, a wooded valley that meanders down from Blackshaw Head toward Eastwood, tucked between Hebden Bridge and Todmorden.

The valley is carved by the Jumble Hole Clough, a waterway historically known as Blackshaw Clough. This stream is more than just a scenic feature; it's a boundary steeped in history, traditionally marking the line between the counties of Yorkshire and Lancashire. More importantly, it was the lifeblood of a small, industrious community. Its waters once powered several mills, and scattered dwellings lined its banks, housing the people who worked and lived there. The stream even had a spiritual significance, used for baptisms by the nearby Nazebottom Baptist Church.

As I followed a path alongside the water, I passed over an old stone bridge, its arch gracefully spanning the clough. The sound of the water cascading over the rocks and a small waterfall was a peaceful soundtrack to the green, moss-covered landscape. But my eyes were drawn away from the rushing water and towards the hillside. Tucked into the lush greenery, I saw the stone remains of a building, a silent witness to a time gone by.

I had to investigate. Pushing through the undergrowth, I found myself standing before the ruins of what was once a home. The most striking feature was a stone fireplace, still standing strong despite the roof and walls having long since collapsed. Covered in a thick layer of green moss and surrounded by new growth, it felt like a monument to a lost world. The fireplace, once the warm heart of a home, now stands open to the elements, a somber reminder of a community that faded into history.

Exploring Jumble Hole Clough is like stepping back in time. It’s a place where the past isn't just a story in a book; it’s a tangible presence, waiting to be rediscovered by those who take the time to wander off the beaten path. These forgotten ruins and stone bridges serve as a powerful link between the valley’s industrial past and its wild, beautiful present.

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Inside the abandoned dwelling I found. This artwork is based on
a photo that can be seen below.

Jumble Hole Clough.

Jumble Hole Clough, the abandoned dwelling is just to the right
of the picture.

Another artwork of the inside of the abandoned dwelling.

The abandoned dwelling, it was the top of the fireplace, just visible
that made me go and take a look around.

Jumble Hole Clough weir.

The photo of the fireplace my artworks are based on.

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The Legacy of a Visionary: Edward Akroyd's Halifax

On a grey February day in 2014, with a Samsung Galaxy Tablet in hand, I captured a series of images of a statue in Halifax. This wasn't just any statue; it was a monument to a man whose legacy is etched into the very fabric of the town's social and architectural history: Edward Akroyd.

Born in 1810 in the Ovenden district of Halifax, Edward Akroyd was a textile manufacturer who inherited his father's business in 1847. But he was more than just an industrialist; he was a social reformer with a vision. Deeply concerned by the squalid living conditions of the Victorian era, he embarked on a mission to improve the lives of his workers.

A Model for a Better Life

Akroyd’s most enduring legacy is perhaps the model villages he built for his employees. These communities, Akroyden and Copley, were designed to be a testament to how housing conditions could be dramatically improved. These villages, with their thoughtfully laid-out streets and well-built homes, still stand today, a living reminder of his commitment to his workers' well-being.

His social consciousness didn't stop at housing. He was a pioneer in many other areas, responsible for the establishment of the first working men’s college outside of London, a local allotment society, and a school for child laborers. He even created a workers' pension scheme, a truly forward-thinking initiative for his time. A devout man, he also contributed to the construction of numerous Anglican churches around Halifax, including All Souls Church, which his statue now stands proudly outside of.

A Life of Service

Edward Akroyd's influence stretched far beyond social reform. He was a co-founder of the Yorkshire Penny Bank and the Halifax Building Society, and played a crucial role in bringing the railway to Halifax. He served his country as the Lieutenant Colonel of the 4th Yorkshire West Riding Rifle Volunteers and his community as a Member of Parliament for both Huddersfield and Halifax.

A Monument to a Man

The statue itself, a 9-foot bronze figure atop a 10-foot plinth, is a fitting tribute to his stature in the community. Sculpted by Ceccardo Egidio Fucigna and John Birnie Philip, it was unveiled on July 29, 1876, at North Bridge, before a crowd of 10,000 people. On each side of the plinth, bronze panels illustrate key moments from his life.

The panels tell their own stories: one depicts him as Lieutenant Colonel, directing his troops on horseback; another shows him addressing workers, a spade at his feet, symbolizing his role in improving their lives. Another panel is a detailed coat of arms with the motto "In Veritate Victoria" (In Truth, Victory), a motto that seems to embody his life's work.

Due to his failing health, Edward Akroyd eventually moved to St Leonards-on-sea, where he died in 1887. His funeral was a massive event, attended by over 15,000 mourners, a testament to the immense respect and affection he had earned. The statue itself was moved to its current location on October 28, 1901, to make way for the development of the North Bridge for trams, and it was given Grade II listed status on November 3, 1954, securing its place as a protected piece of local history.

Today, this statue stands not just as a likeness of a man, but as a symbol of the enduring impact one individual can have on a community. It's a reminder of a visionary who believed that prosperity should be shared, and that a better life was a right for all.

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The pictures below feature on the plinth and commemorate a scene from the life of Edward Akroyd.

This panel which can be seen on the plinth is to commemorate the
statue being completed by the townspeople of Halifax.

Colonel Akroyd is represented on horseback giving orders out to the 4th
West Yorkshire Rifle Volunteers, at his feet are Major Ingram, Major Holdsworth
and Captain Holroyde. Men from the regiment are visible behind
his horse.

This panel shows the laying of the corner stone at the nearby All
Souls Church on 25th April 1856. Some of the other men shown in the picture are
Mayor Joshua Appleyard, Bishop Longley of Ripon, Reverend Canon
Fawcett, Archdeacon Musgrave, Richard Carter Mayor of Barnsley and
Gilbert Scott architect of All Souls Church.

The picture on this panel shows the cutting of the first sod of the
Leeds, Bradford and Halifax Railway of which Edward Akroyd was
chairman. The picture is to show a scene from 1846 when the railway was
known as the West Riding Union Railway. In addition to Colonel Akroyd
some of the other men featured in the picture are Jonathan Akroyd, Lord Morpeth,
Charles Wood (Lord Halifax), Colonel Joshua pollard and the lines engineer
Sir John Hawkshaw.

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