Walking the Calder and Hebble Navigation: Sowerby to Salterhebble

The Calder and Hebble Navigation isn't just a waterway; it's a testament to the ingenuity of the Industrial Revolution and a living thread in the history of West Yorkshire. As you walk the towpath between Sowerby Bridge and Salterhebble, you're treading the same ground once bustled with horse-drawn barges and the clamour of industry. This specific stretch, captured so beautifully in these photos from February 2020, reveals the canal's rich story, from its vital role in commerce to its peaceful modern-day purpose.

The Broad Canal's Genesis

Opened in 1770, the Calder and Hebble Navigation was a groundbreaking feat of engineering. Unlike many of its contemporaries, it’s a broad canal, designed to accommodate wider boats and larger cargoes, a clear sign of its ambition to be a major commercial artery. It was a fusion of man-made cuts and cleverly "navigated" sections of the existing River Calder and River Hebble. This design was both a blessing and a challenge, harnessing the power of nature while requiring meticulous control to manage water levels and prevent flooding. Our journey begins at the Sowerby Bridge Basin, a historic nexus where the Calder and Hebble Navigation meets the Rochdale Canal. This connection, completed in 1804, transformed Sowerby Bridge into a critical trans-Pennine hub, linking the ports of Hull and Liverpool. The basin itself is a beautiful blend of industrial architecture and modern leisure, where former warehouses have been converted into cafes and bars, and canal boats now serve as peaceful homes and holiday cruisers.

Copley: A Glimpse of Industrial Life

As you follow the path from Sowerby Bridge, you'll reach the picturesque section around Copley. Here, the canal flows alongside the Calder, and you can see tangible reminders of its industrial past. The pictures show old sluices and delivery chutes, once used to load and unload goods directly from the mills that lined the waterway. These structures are more than just ruins; they are silent witnesses to the daily grind of workers and the flow of raw materials that fuelled the textile industry. The tranquil water and green banks today stand in stark contrast to the smoke-filled, noisy reality of two centuries ago.

The Salterhebble Locks: A Stepping Stone to Halifax

Continuing east, the canal eventually reaches the Salterhebble Locks. This is a particularly fascinating point, as it marks the former junction with the Halifax Branch Canal. The branch, opened in 1828, was a crucial link for mills in Halifax town center, rising an impressive 110 feet through 14 locks. Although the branch was abandoned in the 1940s, the remnants can still be seen, including the locks and the charming lock keeper's cottage. The lock complex at Salterhebble itself is a piece of living history, with some of the original handspike-operated paddle gear still in use, a rare sight on Britain's waterways.

Today, the Calder and Hebble Navigation is a vibrant leisure route, used by boaters, walkers, and cyclists. Its transformation from a workhorse of industry to a peaceful recreational haven is a powerful story of renewal. It reminds us that even after their original purpose has faded, our industrial waterways continue to provide a valuable resource, connecting people with nature and our shared past.

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From Loom to Legacy: The Unfolding Story of Dean Clough

Step back in time to the heart of Halifax, West Yorkshire, and you'll find a monumental testament to Britain's industrial past: Dean Clough Mills. Today, it's a bustling hub of commerce, arts, and culture, but its origins are rooted in the very fabric of the Industrial Revolution. This isn't just a collection of old buildings; it's a living museum, a phoenix risen from the ashes of a bygone era.

The Crossley's Carpet Kingdom

In its heyday, Dean Clough was home to a globally dominant enterprise. Built by the Crossley family, who founded Crossley's Carpets, the complex expanded rapidly between 1840 and 1869. The first mill was built in 1802, and the family's foresight and ambition transformed a small valley into an industrial powerhouse. At one point, Dean Clough was the largest carpet mill in the world. Imagine the sheer scale: thousands of workers, the rhythmic clatter of looms, and mountains of wool and yarn being transformed into carpets that graced homes across the globe. The mills were more than just a workplace; they were the lifeblood of the local community. The sheer size of the buildings, as seen in the photos, hints at the immense scale of this operation.

Decline and Rebirth

The golden age of Dean Clough wouldn't last forever. In 1970, Crossley's Carpets moved its headquarters to Kidderminster, a sign of changing times. Faced with declining sales and fierce competition from cheaper imports, the looms fell silent for good in 1982, leaving a massive, derelict site. It could've been the end of the story, with the buildings left to decay like so many others from that era. However, a remarkable transformation was on the horizon.

In 1983, two visionaries, Sir Ernest Hall and Jonathan Silver, saw potential where others saw ruin. They bought the complex and set about turning it into the Dean Clough Galleries and Industrial Park. While their partnership was short-lived, with Sir Ernest Hall taking the reins a year later, his commitment has been unwavering. To date, he has invested over £20 million into the redevelopment. The vast, empty sheds were repurposed into essential parking spaces, and the Victorian buildings were meticulously restored. The resulting space is now a vibrant mixed-use development.

Modern-Day Marvels

Today, Dean Clough is a thriving ecosystem. Over 150 companies have made it their home, ranging from small start ups to established businesses. But its purpose extends far beyond commerce. The complex now features a hotel, leisure facilities, restaurants, and the renowned Viaduct Theatre. This blending of old and new is what makes Dean Clough so captivating. The imposing brickwork of the old mills now stands alongside modern infrastructure, creating a unique and compelling architectural landscape. The presence of the large, metal sheep sculpture adds a touch of quirky art that pays homage to the site's wool and textile history.

The redevelopment of Dean Clough is a shining example of how industrial heritage can be preserved and repurposed for the 21st century. It's a reminder that even when an industry dies, its spirit can live on, transforming a relic of the past into a beacon of the future. The next time you find yourself in Halifax, take a walk through Dean Clough. You'll be treading the same paths where a global empire was built, and witnessing a legacy that continues to unfold.

I took these pictures with a Polaroid is2132 camera in May 2015, clicking on any of them should open a link in another window to my Colin Green photography store on Zazzle.

All the pictures can be seen in the YouTube slideshow below.

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End of the Line: A Farewell to Cottingley Railway Station?

On a seemingly ordinary day, August 27, 2022, I stood on the platform of Cottingley Railway Station near Leeds, my Nikon D3300 in hand. The sun was out, the tracks were glinting, and a train approached with a familiar rumble. What was captured in those photographs, however, was not just a snapshot of a working train station, but a moment in time for a place on the brink of change.

Cottingley Railway Station is a modest two-platform stop, a vital link for the communities of Churwell and Cottingley. It was built with function in mind, a no-frills facility with limited shelter and access. Yet, since its opening on April 25, 1988, it has been a quiet success story. Created by the West Yorkshire Passenger Transport Executive and British Rail, it steadily grew its patronage. The annual usage surged from a humble 10,000 in the early 2000s to a remarkable 100,000 before the COVID-19 pandemic. This growth is a testament to its importance to local commuters.

But change is on the horizon. A new, state-of-the-art station, the White Rose Railway Station, is being built just half a mile away on the same Huddersfield Line. The proximity of the two stations makes keeping both unviable, and as a result, Cottingley is scheduled to close. The pictures I took that day feel like a farewell tour, a visual record of a place that will soon become a memory.

The images tell their own story. The signs are clear and functional, guiding passengers to Platform 1 for services to Leeds and Platform 2 for those heading away from the city. The basic shelters, a splash of yellow against the grey platforms, are a stark reminder of the station's utilitarian purpose. Yet, there is a beauty in this simplicity. The footbridge, with its intricate metalwork, stands out, a structure that will thankfully remain as a public right of way even after the station closes.

And then, there are the trains themselves. The photos capture a Trans Pennine Express service pulling into the station, its lights cutting through the shade of the bridge, and another departing, a symbol of the journeys that have begun and ended here for over three decades.

The closure of Cottingley Station is a classic case of progress vs. history. While the new White Rose station will offer improved facilities, better accessibility, and a strategic location to serve the nearby White Rose Shopping Centre and Office Park, it marks the end of an era for Cottingley. The footbridge, a physical and symbolic link between the two communities, will remain, but the trains will no longer stop.

As a photographer, I find myself drawn to these moments of transition. They are reminders that even the most mundane parts of our infrastructure have a story. Cottingley Railway Station is more than just a stop on the line; it's a place that has served a community, enabled countless journeys, and witnessed the rhythms of daily life. Soon, it will fall silent, a ghost station on a busy line.

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A Snapshot of Village Life: Lealholm Post Office & Service Station

Lealholm is a village that seems to exist at its own pace, a peaceful hamlet nestled in the heart of the Esk Valley. On a sunny day in August 2022, I found myself exploring this tranquil corner of North Yorkshire, having just visited the quaint Lealholm Railway Station. As I walked back towards the village centre, I stumbled upon a truly charming sight: the Lealholm Post Office and Service Station.

What immediately caught my eye was how a seemingly ordinary stone house had been transformed into what is undoubtedly a central hub for the local community. It’s a place that feels as if it has grown organically from the landscape, serving the needs of the village's approximately 380 residents and the surrounding rural communities.

The photographs, taken with my Nikon D3300 SLR camera, capture the essence of this little building. There's a certain timeless quality to it. The stone exterior, the traditional roof tiles, and the potted flowers by the front door all contribute to a sense of warmth and welcome. The vibrant red of the post box stands out against the muted tones of the stone, a small but powerful symbol of connection.

This place isn't just a post office; it's a vital service station as well, a testament to its role in a rural area where such amenities are a lifeline. In a world of digital communication and big-box stores, there's something incredibly reassuring about seeing a place that combines these essential services under one roof. It speaks to a way of life that values convenience and community in equal measure.

The art-style versions of the photograph, with their textured, painterly effect, add another layer of charm. They transform the scene into something more than just a snapshot; they make it feel like a cherished memory or a piece of folk art. They highlight the rustic, lived-in quality of the building and the lush, green backdrop of the surrounding hills.

This image, and the feeling it evokes, reminds me of the unique character of rural life. It’s a world where a single building can be a post office, a shop, and a place to fill up your car, all at once. It’s a place where neighbours likely know each other by name and where a trip to the post office is not just an errand but a chance for a chat. The Lealholm Post Office and Service Station is more than just a building; it’s a heartbeat of the community, a humble yet essential hub of village life.

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An Autumnal Walk: All Saints Church, Salterhebble

The crisp air, the rustle of fallen leaves underfoot, and the warm, low light of an autumn day create the perfect atmosphere for a journey back in time. On October 24, 2014, I found myself drawn to the timeless beauty of All Saints Church in Salterhebble, Halifax. Armed with my Polaroid is2132 bridge camera, I set out to capture the essence of this historic place, and the resulting images tell a story of faith, community, and the passage of time.

As you approach the church, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer presence of the building. The tall, elegant spire reaches towards the sky, a beacon of faith built from the local stone. It’s no wonder that a significant part of its construction was a community effort, with Samuel Rhodes generously providing over 400 cartloads of stone from his own quarry. This collaborative spirit is etched into the very fabric of the church.

Designed by the prolific architects James Mallinson and Thomas Healey, whose work can be seen in several other churches in the area, All Saints Church is a testament to the Victorian Gothic Revival style. The pointed arches, intricate stonework, and stained-glass windows are all hallmarks of this architectural movement, designed to evoke a sense of awe and reverence. The foundation stone was laid on August 26, 1857, and the church was consecrated and opened for worship the following year, in 1858. It has been a continuous place of worship ever since, its walls having witnessed generations of baptisms, weddings, and funerals.

Walking through the churchyard is a contemplative experience. It’s an overgrown, verdant space, where ancient headstones, some leaning and weathered with time, are partially reclaimed by nature. The sepia tones of the photographs capture this sense of history and quiet decay, highlighting the ornate crosses and memorials that stand as silent sentinels. A path, strewn with fallen leaves, winds its way between the graves, inviting you to wander and reflect.

One of the most remarkable sights in the churchyard is a large, ornate memorial, a striking contrast to the more traditional headstones. This is a mausoleum, a grand statement of remembrance and a captivating piece of architecture in its own right. With its intricate arches and detailed carvings, it stands as a testament to a significant person or family from the parish's past.

Another discovery was a hidden gateway, a small archway in a stone wall, half-covered in thick foliage. It felt like a portal to another world, a secret entrance to a part of the church grounds less travelled. The vibrant greens of the leaves, still holding onto their colour in the autumn light, create a beautiful frame for the simple stone steps that lead you through.

The images taken that day, some in rich colour and others in a timeless black and white, capture the dual nature of All Saints Church. It is both a functioning place of worship and a living, breathing piece of history. The autumn colours highlight the beauty of the surrounding nature, while the monochrome images emphasize the architectural details and the solemnity of the graveyard.

As I left All Saints Church that day, I felt a deep appreciation for its enduring presence. It’s more than just a building; it’s a repository of stories, a link to the past, and a quiet haven in the bustling world. It stands as a powerful reminder of the community that built it and the history that continues to unfold within its walls.

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