Unveiling the Hidden Arches: A Norland Perspective of Copley Viaduct

The Copley Viaduct, a stoic sentinel of stone and rail, is a familiar and imposing sight to many in the Calderdale valley. Its grand, rhythmic arches, usually captured and admired from the more accessible Copley side of the river, are a profound testament to the ambition and structural ingenuity of Victorian engineering. However, on a crisp 5th of November in 2016, armed with my trusty Nikon d3300, I embarked on a personal quest to unveil a lesser-seen, often-overlooked side of this magnificent structure – the view from the wilder, higher Norland embankment.

The Quest for a New Angle

My intention was born from a desire for a unique perspective. The viaduct, an integral part of the railway line stretching towards Halifax, is the longer and more impressive of the two major crossings in the area. Yet, the rugged Norland bank of the River Calder at this point is rarely photographed. I wanted to see it through fresh eyes, framed by the wild, untamed beauty of the western slope, capturing the interplay between the raw landscape and the man-made marvel.

The viaduct itself, a Grade II listed structure completed in 1852 for the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, is a marvel designed by the prominent engineer Sir John Hawkshaw. Its original purpose was to link Sowerby Bridge and Halifax more directly, bypassing the earlier, circuitous branch line. Its 21 to 23 arches (sources vary slightly) elegantly span the valley, crossing not just the River Calder, but also the historic Calder & Hebble Navigation and the Wakefield Road (A6026). This sheer scale and historical importance add immense weight and character to every stone.

An Unrecommended Ascent

The specific viewpoint I sought demanded an ascent. The climb up the embankment was, to put it mildly, a significant challenge. It was a steep, difficult scramble, weaving through thick undergrowth and navigating treacherous, uneven terrain. As I pushed upwards, my mind was half-expecting to encounter a formidable fence at the summit, a clear, sensible demarcation preventing access to the elevated, active railway line.

To my surprise, when I reached the top of the banking overlooking the line, there was no fence. While this offered an unobstructed view, it instantly reinforced the absolute necessity of extreme caution. I maintained a safe and sensible distance away from the active railway lines at all times. The brief moments at the top were only for two quick, carefully composed shots before I commenced the careful and difficult descent back down the banking.

I must stress this point strongly: I absolutely would not recommend anybody else attempt this climb. The risks involved, especially the proximity to a busy, active main railway line like the Calder Valley route, are far too high, and the terrain itself was unforgiving. Safety, around any railway infrastructure, must always be paramount.

The Rewards of the North Bank

The effort, for me, was justified by the images captured, which offer a rare glimpse into the hidden world beneath and beside the viaduct from this unique vantage point.

Looking up from the base of the embankment, the sheer scale of the viaduct becomes strikingly apparent. The imposing, semi circular arches, usually perceived as elegant distant features, now loom overhead, their weathered, rock-faced sandstone a massive canvas of time and history. They dwarf the surrounding trees and give a visceral sense of the colossal effort that went into their construction.

The scene, captured on an autumnal day, is framed by the skeletal trees, stripped bare by the approaching November chill. Their branches reach like gnarled, dark fingers towards the sky, creating natural, gothic frames for the stone arches. The low, crisp light of the day filters through the canopy and between the arches, creating pockets of illumination and deep shadow—a moody, almost ethereal atmosphere that hints at the industrial and natural secrets held within the valley.

The Norland side, less manicured and more rugged, provides a powerful contrast to the structure itself. It reminds you that this incredible piece of Victorian infrastructure was driven right through a landscape that did not easily surrender, a landscape still defined by the steep banks of the River Calder.

The images taken from the top of the embankment offer the true prize: an unprecedented, sweeping view along the length of the viaduct as it vanishes towards Halifax. This perspective, often monopolized by the distant Copley side, reveals the full, majestic sweep of the arches from a parallel, elevated angle—a fitting reward for a difficult photographic quest to see a familiar landmark with completely new eyes.

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The Sunday Drive Mystery: Dating an Unknown Bavarian Baroque Church from a 35mm Slide

This image, pulled from a 35mm slide, captures a serene, sunlit scene that is rich with historical and geographical clues: a beautiful church set against rolling hills, a field of grass, and a few vehicles, one of which is the star of the show.

1. The Architecture: The Zwiebelturm

The most striking feature is the church tower, crowned with a distinctive dark, rounded, onion-shaped dome—a style known in German as a Zwiebelturm. This is the most significant geographical clue, as this Baroque style of cupola is overwhelmingly common in Southern Germany (Bavaria) and parts of Austria.

• Conclusion: The church is almost certainly located in the Upper Bavaria or Lower Bavaria region of Germany, a center for Baroque and Rococo Catholic architecture.

2. The Car: Dating the Image

The white sedan in the foreground provides the strongest evidence for dating the photograph:

• The Car Model: The car appears to be a BMW 1500, 1800, or 2000 (part of the "Neue Klasse" or "New Class" series). Production for this influential model began in 1962.

• The License Plate: The plate reads B · CU 528. The "B" indicates the vehicle was registered in Berlin. While the car is miles from Berlin, this detail confirms the photograph was taken on a road trip or driving holiday by West German citizens.

• The Film: The colour saturation and slightly faded tones are typical of mid-century colour slide film (like Agfacolor or early Kodachrome), reinforcing the date.

3. The Landscape: A Rural Backdrop

The church sits adjacent to a field with rolling hills in the background, suggesting it is a significant feature of a rural village or small town in the Alpine foothills. The landscape is not a major city, making it a smaller, lesser-known parish church or abbey.

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Where in Bavaria? (A New Search)

While the exact location remains a mystery without boots-on-the-ground searching, this structure is typical of many fine parish churches, such as those found in towns like Ebersberg, Wasserburg am Inn, or smaller towns in the Landshut area.

The church's size and style suggest it may have belonged to a former Abbey (Kloster) or served as a prominent pilgrimage church (Wallfahrtskirche) in the area.

This stunning slide not only documents a beautiful piece of architecture but also freezes a moment in time: a German family from Berlin on a road trip through the heart of Bavaria in the mid-1960s.

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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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Autumn Whispers on the Knottingley and Goole Canal

Inspired by the serene, almost cinematic view captured near Whitley, Eggborough, North Yorkshire, this photograph of the Knottingley and Goole Canal on a crisp November day speaks volumes. The glassy, dark water reflecting the overcast sky, the scatter of fallen leaves, and the line of moored narrowboats create a scene that is both tranquil and a reminder of the region's industrial past.

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The Working Waterway: A History of Innovation

The Knottingley and Goole Canal is a vital section of the Aire and Calder Navigation, a waterway system with a rich history dating back to the late 17th century. This specific cut, opened in 1826, bypassed a slower, more circuitous route to the River Ouse, cementing its importance for trade.

Unlike many canals that faded completely after the railway boom, the Aire and Calder Navigation adapted and continued to thrive as a key commercial artery. Its enduring legacy is tied to the movement of coal from the Yorkshire collieries. This section of canal was engineered for efficiency, most famously through the use of 'Tom Puddings'—compartment boats linked together in long trains and towed by steam tugs. These innovative trains, which could carry up to 740 tons of coal per trip, were a remarkable feat of Victorian engineering and helped establish the inland port of Goole.

• 1704: Initial improvements to the Rivers Aire and Calder are completed.

• 1826: The Knottingley to Goole cut opens, shortening the route to the Humber.

• 1860s: The famous Tom Pudding compartment boat system is introduced, enabling the bulk transport of coal.

• Today: The navigation remains a working waterway, carrying freight like oil, sand, and gravel, alongside its use for leisure.

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Life on the Water at Whitley

The image captures the modern reality of this historical canal: a peaceful mooring spot for residents. The row of narrowboats, nestled against the grassy bank, suggests a life of tranquillity and connection to nature, even with the backdrop of distant industry (note the high-voltage power lines and commercial buildings in the distance).

The boats themselves are miniature homes, often equipped with solar panels (visible on the roof of the narrowboat closest to the camera), highlighting a blend of traditional canal living and contemporary, sustainable technology. The contrast between the brilliant blue narrowboat and the subtle, autumnal colours of the foliage and the grey sky is striking. The reflective water amplifies the calmness of the scene, broken only by the gentle ripples spreading from the stern of the boat.

For those interested in exploring this area, the village of Eggborough is known for its proximity to the River Aire and its own rich local history, including the decommissioned power station which was a major landmark.

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Your Next Yorkshire Canal Adventure

Whether you're a seasoned boater, a history enthusiast, or simply looking for a peaceful walk, the towpaths along the Knottingley and Goole Canal offer a unique blend of heritage and nature. It's a place where you can trace the paths of the Tom Puddings while watching modern-day narrowboats cruise by. It's a reminder that sometimes, the oldest routes are still the best.

I took this image on the 10th November 2025 with a Canon r100, I was in the area to picture the nearby railway station and closed All Saints Church at Nearby Whitley, the church will feature in my next post.

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Village Gossips: Unpacking an Early 20th-Century Postcard

The humble postcard—a fleeting communication in its time—often becomes a profound historical artifact for us today. I recently acquired a wonderful example, titled “Village Gossips,” that invites us to pause and listen in on a moment of rural life from over a century ago.

The Image: An Idyllic Scene of Everyday Life

The front of the postcard features a vibrant colour lithograph of a scene rich in atmosphere:

• The Setting: We are on a dirt or gravel track, flanked by sturdy dry-stone walls characteristic of the British countryside. The central focus is a wooden gate, perhaps leading into a farmyard or a private dwelling.

• The Figures: Two women dominate the scene.

  • The woman on the left stands outside a handsome, reddish-brick cottage. She wears a light-coloured skirt, a pinkish blouse, and has her hands on her hips in a familiar, perhaps slightly impatient or expectant, posture.

  • The woman on the right is paused by the gate, looking toward her companion. She is dressed in traditional, darker working clothes, including a white head covering—likely a bonnet or folded shawl—and a large apron over a dark blue dress.

• The Title: The title, “Village Gossips,” immediately frames the interaction. This isn't just a casual meeting; it's a moment of shared secrets, local news, or community rumour. The women are the custodians and distributors of the vital social network of the village.

The artwork style, with its soft, slightly blurry edges and romanticized depiction of rural life, strongly suggests a date from the Edwardian era (c. 1901-1910), a time when postcards flourished as the primary means of short, quick correspondence.

Decoding the Message: A Glimpse into the Postbag

The reverse of the postcard, a "Tuck's Post Card" (Tuck being a highly famous publisher, Raphael Tuck & Sons), is where the real personal history lies. The format—with "FOR ADDRESS ONLY" on the right and space for the message on the left—confirms its early 20th-century origins.

The Recipient and Location

The address is clearly legible:

• Miss Pond

• White House

• Chipstable

• Wiveliscombe

• Somerset

Wiveliscombe is a small town in Somerset, England. The sender was clearly writing to a Miss Pond, perhaps a relative or friend, at the White House in the nearby hamlet of Chipstable.

The Message and the Date

The handwriting is a classic early 20th-century script, written vertically down the left side, as was often done to maximize space:

"Loving greetings dear Miss [?]. Have nice [?] & arrived [?] all safe & sound. So pleased you [?] safely back [?] of your [?] I [?] [?] I [?] of your [?] of [?] love from all [?]. R. & G. [?] of the [?] to [?] it."

• Key Phrases Deciphered: "Loving greetings," "arrived [?] all safe & sound," "So pleased you [?] safely back," "love from all," and the sign-off "R. & G." (or possibly "E. & G.").

• The Content: The message is one of relief and welcome. The sender is clearly happy that the recipient (Miss Pond) has "arrived" or is "back" after a journey, suggesting a significant trip of some kind. The tone is warm and affectionate.

Reading the Postmark

In the top right corner, we see the remnants of a postmark, which is always the best way to date a postcard. While the postmark is heavily obscured and partly covered by the stamp, we can make out some elements. Based on the style of the stamp (a King Edward VII or early King George V design) and the postcard format:

• Estimated Date: The handwriting and context suggest a date around 1905 to 1915. The sender’s reference to arrival “all safe and sound” might even hint at the anxiety of travel during the uncertain years around the First World War (1914-1918), though this is speculative.

Why This Matters

This simple postcard, once a quick piece of news between "R. & G." and "Miss Pond," now offers a poignant window into the past:

1. Social History: It shows us the postcard craze, a genuine social media of its day, where visuals and short text were swapped across the country.

2. Rural Life: The image captures a romantic view of a quiet village, where news was shared face-to-face, not online—a true moment of "gossip" and human connection.

3. Personal Touch: It immortalizes a small, caring moment—the relief of friends or family over the safe return of a loved one.

This "Village Gossips" postcard is a small treasure, preserving not just a picture of an English village, but a genuine expression of early 20th-century friendship.

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The 1912 Swimsuit Revolution: An Edwardian Lady on the Beach

 The Photo: A Glimpse of the Shore in the 1910s

This stunning photograph, likely a postcard or cabinet card from a beachside studio, perfectly captures the social and fashion transition of the early 20th century. The woman is dressed in what was, for its time, a remarkably modern and functional bathing suit.

The image features:

• A solitary woman posing on a sandy beach.

• She is wearing a dark, one-piece bathing suit—a belted tunic over modest bloomers or short trousers—likely made of wool or heavy cotton knit.

• She has a dark bathing cap on, and appears to be wearing dark stockings and beach shoes.

• The look is a classic example of 1910s swimwear, reflecting the era just after the Edwardian period.

Date & Context: The Rise of the Swimmer (Circa 1910–1915)

We can confidently date this photo to the period immediately surrounding 1912. This specific style of swimsuit was directly influenced by two major social changes:

1. The Sporting Revolution

Before the 1910s, women's "bathing costumes" were essentially heavy dresses and suits designed for paddling and sitting, not swimming. They were often voluminous, made of flannel, and weighted with lead to prevent them from floating up—a serious modesty concern.

The key turning point was the 1912 Stockholm Olympics, which introduced women's swimming events. This development officially recognized competitive swimming for women and immediately sparked a demand for practical attire. The cumbersome dresses were replaced by the sleeveless tunic-and-short combination you see in this photo.

2. The Annette Kellerman Influence

The popular Australian swimmer Annette Kellerman was arrested in 1907 for indecency on a Boston beach for wearing a relatively form-fitting one-piece suit (which she wore for performance swimming). Her suit—a modified version of men's knitted swim-togs—caused an international scandal but also kickstarted the movement toward less restrictive women's swimwear. By 1912, her fight had paid off, and the one-piece or tunic-and-short style became the accepted, if heavily debated, new standard.

Fashion Notes: The Fabric of Modesty

While this suit looks modest to modern eyes, it was a huge step toward liberation.

• The Fabric: Wool knit was favoured for being warm (when dry) and less transparent when wet than cotton. However, it absorbed a tremendous amount of water, often making the garment heavy, saggy, and even a drowning risk!

• The Belt: The belt was a key feature, not just for style, but to help define the waist and keep the wet, heavy fabric from dragging too far down.

• Stockings and Shoes: The dark stockings and shoes were often required by beach ordinances to preserve modesty, even with the new suit styles. Going without them was considered highly risque.

The Photographer: An Anonymous Seaside Studio

While the specific photographer is unknown (as is the case for most popular postcards and seaside snapshots from this era), we can assume the picture was taken by an itinerant or permanent beach photographer.

• In the early 1900s, it was a common holiday practice to have a portrait taken at the seaside.

• These photographers often worked with simple backdrops or posed their subjects in front of the actual sea, then offered the prints or postcards for sale a day or two later.

• The subject here is posed perfectly—confident, athletic, and meeting the camera's gaze—a stark contrast to the coy, overly-modest poses of the earlier Victorian era. She embodies the "New Woman" of the 1910s.

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What This Photo Tells Us

This single photograph is more than a lady on a beach; it's a social document:

• It marks the beginning of swimming as a true sport for women.

• It represents a significant (and controversial) easing of modesty standards.

• It captures the spirit of the holiday postcard—a memory of sun, sea, and freedom.

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A Glimpse into History: Bradshaw's Church of St John the Evangelist and War Memorial

Bradshaw, a charming village nestled near Halifax, holds within its boundaries not only picturesque scenery but also significant historical markers. In June 2015, I had the pleasure of capturing some moments around two such important sites: the Church of St John the Evangelist and the Bradshaw War Memorial. Join me as we delve into their stories.

The Church of St John the Evangelist: A Victorian Gem

The Church of St John the Evangelist stands as a beautiful example of Victorian architecture and a testament to the enduring faith of the local community.

A Brief History: Before the mid-19th century, residents of Bradshaw would have had to travel to Halifax or other nearby parishes for worship. As the population grew, the need for a local church became apparent. The foundation stone for St John the Evangelist was laid in 1837, and the church was consecrated in 1839. It was designed by a prominent architect of the time, though sometimes sources vary on the exact name, it's generally attributed to John Oates, a well-known Yorkshire architect.

Architectural Highlights: The church is built in the Gothic Revival style, a popular architectural movement of the Victorian era that sought to emulate medieval Gothic designs. You'll notice features like pointed arches, stained glass windows, and a sturdy bell tower.

Inside, the church is known for its beautiful stained glass and intricate wooden features, creating a serene and contemplative atmosphere.

Interesting Fact: The church was built as a "Commissioners' Church," meaning it received funding from the Church Building Commission, established after the Napoleonic Wars to build new churches in rapidly growing industrial areas. This highlights its importance in catering to the spiritual needs of a burgeoning community during the Industrial Revolution.

The Bradshaw War Memorial: A Solemn Tribute

Just as poignant, and equally important, is the War Memorial that stands as a silent sentinel to the sacrifices made by the men of Bradshaw.

A Community's Remembrance: Erected after the First World War, the memorial is a deeply personal tribute from the community to those who gave their lives in both World Wars and subsequent conflicts. It serves as a permanent reminder of the human cost of war and the bravery of those who served.

I took these images with a Polaroid is2132 camera in June 2014. Clicking any of the images above should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

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Stones of History and Dales Views: A Photo Journey Through Settle, North Yorkshire

Settle, nestled in the stunning landscape of the Yorkshire Dales, is a market town where the past is visibly woven into the present. A recent trip allowed me to capture a collection of images that perfectly illustrate this blend of history, architecture, and dramatic scenery. Join me as we explore the stories behind these Settle snapshots.

The Folly: A Grand Statement in Stone

One of the most architecturally striking buildings in Settle, and a central feature of any visit, is the magnificent house known as The Folly

This imposing structure, with its multiple gables and magnificent mullioned windows, is a superb example of seventeenth-century gentry house architecture.

• A Solicitor’s Ambition: The Folly was built in the late 1670s (either 1675 or 1679) by a wealthy local solicitor, Richard Preston. He strategically placed it where the main road entered Settle at the time, clearly intending to display his wealth and status to all who arrived.

• The Name: Why "The Folly"? While the name is often associated with a costly but useless structure, in this case, it’s also thought to have derived from the French word feuille, meaning leaves, or even an earlier meaning of "delight."

• A Building of Many Lives: Over the centuries, The Folly has led a remarkable number of lives, including a family home, a farmhouse, a bakery, a furniture shop, a doctor's surgery, and even a fish and chip shop! Today, after meticulous restoration, it is owned by the North Craven Building Preservation Trust and houses the Museum of North Craven Life. Its survival and current use are a testament to the community’s dedication to heritage.

The Talbot Arms: An Ancient Hostelry

The brilliant white facade of the Talbot Arms contrasts sharply with Settle's traditional stone, but its history is just as deep.

• Claiming Antiquity: The Talbot Arms is reputed to be one of Settle's oldest pubs, with claims of a history dating back to 1642. Inns like this were vital stopping points along the ancient trade routes that crossed the Dales.

• On the Old Road: The pub stands on what was historically the main street, the pre-turnpike road to Skipton, a prime location for catching travellers and locals alike. It remains a popular, welcoming free house today, celebrating local Yorkshire ales.

The Town’s Commercial Hub: A Distinctive Facade

Another photograph captures a significant building, now housing commercial premises, standing prominently on a corner. Its formal stone facade, with a central arched entrance and striking circular window above, suggests a public or commercial role, possibly even a bank or municipal building in its past.

This building is an excellent example of the 18th or 19th-century confidence and prosperity that grew in Settle as a central market town, often incorporating architectural grandeur into its commercial premises to reflect its importance. The bunting adds a touch of modern life and festivity to the historic setting.

The Mystery of the Elephants

A quirky and unexpected sight in the town is the pair of metal elephant sculptures. This small installation adds a delightful, slightly eccentric touch to the streetscape, standing in front of what the sign indicates is the Tourist Information Centre.

• A Literary Connection? While a definitive origin is hard to pin down immediately, the elephants might subtly nod to a literary or historical figure with a local connection. Settle is known for its surprising link to the famous novelist and aeronautical engineer, Nevil Shute. Though he is more famously associated with Australia and aviation, there are local stories suggesting connections to the area that sometimes inspire local art or references.

Castlebergh and the Landscape of the Dales

The final photograph pulls back from the town to showcase its magnificent backdrop: the surrounding Yorkshire Dales. Dominating the view is the steep, grass-covered limestone crag that rises directly behind the town.

• Castlebergh Crag: This striking hill, or crag, is known as Castlebergh. It has been a prominent feature and viewpoint for centuries. Notice the column of stone rising from the woods below the crag—this is likely part of the Castlebergh Plantation, a wooded area on the lower slopes.

• Victorian Pleasure Ground: Castlebergh became a popular attraction in the Victorian era, laid out with paths and even serving as a pleasure ground, attracting visitors arriving via the newly constructed Settle-Carlisle Railway. The views from the top, where a flagpole now stands, are truly spectacular, overlooking the town and the vast green expanses of Ribblesdale.

Settle offers a rich tapestry of sights, from grand 17th-century houses and historic pubs to captivating landscapes and charming modern touches. These photographs capture just a few layers of this beautiful and history-rich North Yorkshire town.

I took the pictures with a Nikon d3300 in August 2016, 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.

Echoes of the Past: The Lost Railway of Blake Dean

Hardcastle Crags is a place of timeless natural beauty, but hidden beneath the lush green slopes of Blake Dean are the fascinating, almost unbelievable, remnants of a short-lived industrial marvel. This is the story of the Blake Dean Railway and its spectacular wooden trestle bridge—a forgotten piece of engineering that briefly transformed the Hebden Valley over a century ago.

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A Railway to the Sky

In the early 1900s, the booming town of Halifax needed water, and the remote moorland above Hardcastle Crags, at Walshaw Dean, was chosen for three new reservoirs. Contractor Enoch Tempest needed a way to transport thousands of navvies, materials, and supplies to the high, distant construction site. His solution? A narrow-gauge railway, a daring 5.5-mile line that skirted the valley's edge.

The railway's most dramatic feature was the incredible trestle bridge at Blake Dean. Designed by Hebden Bridge architect William Henry Cockcroft and built by local joiner George Greenwood, this wooden giant was a sight to behold:

• Length: Over 700 feet

• Height: 105 feet (the equivalent of a ten-story building!)

• Material: Constructed entirely of sturdy pitch pine.

Locals considered it the Eighth Wonder of the World. Imagine the sight of steam locomotives and carriages packed with workers trundling over that massive wooden structure, high above the valley floor.

The mighty wooden trestle bridge at Blake Dean, a stunning temporary marvel, over 100 feet high.

🛠️ The Work and the Wonder

For just over a decade, the serene valley was alive with the sound of the railway. The line started at "Dawson City," a temporary workers' shantytown near Heptonstall, and delivered its precious cargo—the men and materials—to Walshaw Dean.

The bridge stood up to everything the Pennines threw at it, even a small fire caused by engine sparks in 1906. It was, however, a place of danger. Safety warnings were often ignored by curious visitors, and tragically, at least one death occurred on the bridge when a local lady fell from it in 1909.

A close-up of the dizzying height and complex structure of the trestle viaduct.

All That Remains

The Blake Dean railway was always destined to be temporary. Once the Walshaw Dean reservoirs were completed, the line had served its purpose. In 1912, the massive bridge was dismantled, the valuable pitch pine sold off for recycling, and the rails lifted. The valley quickly reclaimed its peaceful silence.

Today, if you walk deep into Blake Dean, following the path that winds down to the Hebden Water, you can find the only tangible evidence of this incredible feat of engineering: the stone foundations, or 'stumps,' that once supported the monumental wooden legs.

Standing here, looking up and across the deep ravine, it takes a leap of imagination to picture that massive structure soaring overhead. These moss-covered stones are a profound reminder of the ambition and hard labour of the past.

All that remains—the stone foundations of the trestle bridge, now peacefully reclaimed by the valley floor.

🚶 Visit the Ghost Railway

For those who enjoy a piece of history with their walk, seeking out the remains of the Blake Dean trestle bridge is a rewarding detour on a hike through Hardcastle Crags. You can also trace the level, overgrown trackbed (or 'terrace') high on the hillside, which once carried the trains on their journey to Walshaw. It is a stunning, quiet corner of Yorkshire where nature and history meet.

The wider valley view, showing the railway's level track bed high on the slope and the foundation ruins below.

I can not give credit on the first 2 pictures as the name has been lost to time, the second 2 of the foundation stones were taken by me on the 10th September 2016.

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