Resilience and Renewal: The Story of St. Michael's Church, Mytholmroyd

Nestled by the banks of the River Calder, St. Michael's Church in Mytholmroyd stands as a testament to both architectural heritage and community resilience. These images, captured in October 2013, show a church that is both a historical landmark and an integral part of the local landscape.

A Product of a Pious Plan

St. Michael's Church, officially known as Mytholmroyd Parish Church, was consecrated on September 8, 1848. Its very existence is tied to a significant piece of British history: the 1820 Church Building Act. This scheme, informally dubbed the "Million Pound Church Act," was a concerted effort by the government and public to construct new churches in areas of population growth, a response to a period of stagnation in church building since the early 18th century.

Funds for the project came from a combination of government contributions and public subscriptions, with a notable portion derived from the war indemnity collected after the Napoleonic Wars. This unique funding source led to these new churches being known by various names, including "Commissioners Churches" and "Waterloo Churches." St. Michael's, with its Gothic Revival style and sturdy stone construction, is a perfect example of this era of ecclesiastical architecture.

A History of Adaptation

Like many historic churches, St. Michael's has undergone changes to meet the needs of its community. The church was extended in 1888, and a two-story Sunday School was added soon after. This school building was later reduced to a single story and converted into the church hall in the 1970s, a practical adaptation that ensured the building remained a functional space for the congregation.

The photographs show the church and its sprawling graveyard, with gravestones of varying ages and styles, each a record of a life lived in Mytholmroyd. The path meanders through the markers, leading the eye to the imposing church tower, complete with its clock face, and the surrounding, verdant landscape of the Calder Valley.

Facing the Flood

A more recent and dramatic chapter in the church's history is its encounter with the devastating Boxing Day floods of 2015. The River Calder, usually a tranquil presence beside the church, rose to unprecedented levels, submerging the building under more than four feet of water. This was the most significant flooding St. Michael's had faced since the 1940s and led to a prolonged closure of nearly two years.

The community rallied around the church, however, demonstrating an incredible spirit of resilience. The extensive damage was repaired, and the church was rededicated and reopened, stronger than ever. This experience has led to a greater focus on flood prevention, with new work taking place along the riverbanks to protect the church and the wider community from future deluges.

The images from 2013, taken before this event, capture the church in a moment of peace, a beautiful reminder of the calm before the storm. They show the River Calder flowing serenely by, the church standing proudly on its bank, and the community it serves laid out before it. St. Michael's Church is more than a building; it is a symbol of faith, a repository of history, and a testament to the enduring spirit of Mytholmroyd.

The River Calder flowing past St Michael's, a little over 2 years later the river burst its banks and rose to approx 4ft above the floor of the church. The buildings to the left were so severely damaged they were demolished shortly after and now it is an open space between Burnley Road and the River.

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A Walk Across the Co-operative Bridge, Sowerby Bridge

In the heart of Sowerby Bridge, where industrial heritage meets the tranquil flow of water, lies a little-known but historically significant structure: the Co-operative Bridge. These images, captured on a chilly December day in 2013, reveal its character and the unique vantage point it offers over the landscape.

A Bridge of Industry and Connection

The Co-operative Bridge serves as a vital pedestrian link, connecting the Industrial Road and Hollins Mill areas of Sowerby Bridge. Its name, "Co-operative Bridge," suggests a connection to the town's rich history of co-operative societies, a movement that played a huge role in the lives of the working-class communities in this region. While the exact age of the bridge is uncertain, its appearance on maps dating back to the 1870s places it firmly in the late Victorian era, a time of immense industrial growth in the Calder Valley.

The photographs highlight the bridge's intricate ironwork railings, a testament to the craftsmanship of the period. The black-and-white image accentuates the geometric patterns of the railings, creating a striking perspective that draws the eye down the path.

A Unique Perspective

The bridge's primary function is to span the Rochdale Canal, a waterway that was once a bustling artery of trade and transport. The images from the bridge, looking out over the canal, are particularly compelling. The calm, reflective surface of the water, a stark contrast to the rusty, peeling paint on the bridge's own railing, captures the beauty of the canal in winter.

Interestingly, despite crossing the canal, the bridge offers no direct access to the towpath below. The steep steps on either side, one set descending from Industrial Road and another from the Hollins Mill side, lead only to the bridge itself, a curious design feature that underscores its singular purpose as a connector between two distinct areas rather than a thoroughfare for canal-goers.

The View from Above

From the Co-operative Bridge, you get a beautiful, almost panoramic view of the Rochdale Canal as it carves its way through the landscape. The photographs show the waterway stretching out, flanked by the towpath and the distinctive architecture of Sowerby Bridge's old mill buildings. The rugged, overgrown banks and the bare trees of winter add a sense of wild, natural beauty to the industrial scene.

The last of the images, captures a wider view of the canal, with the hills of the valley visible in the distance. The blue sky peeking through the clouds and the sunlight glinting off the water create a serene and peaceful scene, a stark contrast to the gritty, industrial feel of the bridge itself.

The Co-operative Bridge is a small but significant piece of Sowerby Bridge's fabric. It is a reminder of the town's industrial past, a functional link for its present, and a testament to the enduring character of its landscape. It may not be a grand landmark, but for those who know it, it is a bridge with a story to tell.

I took these pictures on the 29th December 2013 with a Samsung Galaxy Tablet.

Looking across the bridge towards the Industrial Road area.

The Rochdale Canal towards Sowerby Bridge.

The bridge pictured from the Industrial Road end.

The steps down from the bridge to Hollins Mill Lane.

The Rochdale Canal towards Luddendenfoot from the bridge. The famous Puzzle Hall Inn can be seen to the left of the canal.

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From Malting House to Learning Centre: The Enduring Legacy of The Maltings, Halifax

The Maltings in Halifax is a building with a rich and layered history, its sturdy stone walls holding the memories of a bygone industrial era. These images, captured on a grey February day in 2014, showcase its imposing and unique architecture, a testament to its former life as a vital component of the Webster's Brewery Fountain Head complex.

A Glimpse into Industrial Heritage

Built in 1898, The Maltings was once at the heart of the brewing industry in Ovenden Wood. Webster's Brewery, a name synonymous with Halifax's industrial past, had operated from the Fountain Head site since the mid-1800s. The Maltings was where the magic began—where barley was steeped and germinated, a crucial first step in the brewing process. The building's distinctive oast-house-like kilns, seen prominently in the photographs, are a beautiful reminder of this function.

The brewery's closure in 1996 marked the end of an era. The site was redeveloped for housing, but thanks to its Grade II listed status, granted on April 18, 1990, The Maltings was spared. Along with the nearby Long Can, it stands as one of the last remaining structures of the once-sprawling brewery.

A New Purpose

Instead of being demolished, The Maltings was given a new lease on life. The building was repurposed as a college, a fitting transformation from a place of industry to a place of education. The broad, expansive windows that once let in light for the malting process now illuminate classrooms, and the strong foundations that once supported heavy machinery now support the dreams of students.

The photographs from 2014 show the building in this transitional phase, its industrial heritage clear in its design, yet its new purpose evident in the signage at the entrance. The mix of colour and a black-and-white image in the collection highlights the timeless quality of the architecture, which looks just as striking in monochrome as it does under a moody sky.

A Link to the Past

The presence of a railway is also a key part of The Maltings' history. The Halifax High Level Railway ran right past the building, and it's speculated that a railway siding may have existed there for a time. This connection to the railway network was undoubtedly crucial for a brewery, facilitating the transport of raw materials and finished products. The nearby Wheatley Viaduct, a magnificent piece of railway engineering, stands as a testament to this past.

These pictures, taken with a Polaroid is2132 camera, serve as a valuable record of a moment in time, capturing The Maltings as it continues its journey from industrial landmark to modern educational facility. Its unique architecture, a blend of functionality and Victorian design, makes it a true gem of Halifax's built heritage.

The Maltings is more than just a building; it is a symbol of adaptation and preservation. It reminds us that our industrial past is not something to be forgotten, but something to be celebrated and, where possible, repurposed for a new future. It stands proudly, a sentinel of a time gone by, but with a vibrant, new story still being written within its historic walls.

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St. James the Great: A Timeless Sentinel in Hebden Bridge

Nestled amidst the picturesque, rolling hills of the Calder Valley, the Church of St. James the Great stands as a silent witness to nearly two centuries of history. Affectionately known to locals as Hebden Bridge Parish Church or Mytholm Church, this Grade II listed Anglican place of worship is about to celebrate a remarkable milestone: its 190th anniversary this October.

These images, captured on a crisp November day in 2013, offer a glimpse into the enduring charm of this historic building. The late autumn light, a mix of brilliant sunshine and soft cloud cover, beautifully illuminates the church’s weathered stone facade and the vibrant foliage of the surrounding trees.

A Product of a Pious Era

The story of St. James the Great is inextricably linked to a significant moment in British history—the Million Pound Act. This government initiative, designed to provide places of worship in rapidly growing industrial areas, led to the construction of numerous churches across the country. St. James the Great was a beneficiary of this scheme, built at a cost of £2,700 and consecrated on October 5, 1833. It’s a testament to the foresight of its creators and the burgeoning faith of the community it was built to serve.

Initially a chapelry within the Parish of Heptonstall, St. James the Great gained its own identity when the Parish of Hebden Bridge was established in 1844. This marked a new chapter for the church, solidifying its role as the spiritual heart of the community.

Architectural Evolution

Like many historic buildings, St. James the Great has evolved over time. While the original structure was a solid example of early 19th-century church architecture, it was significantly enlarged in 1876 with the addition of a chancel. The pictures show this blend of architectural styles, a subtle harmony between the original design and later modifications. The last major alterations were made to the tower in the early 1980s, ensuring the church's structural integrity for future generations.

The stunning stained glass windows, visible in some of the images, are all from the 1870s. Their rich colours and intricate designs tell their own stories, filtering light into the hallowed interior and adding a layer of visual splendour.

A Place of Remembrance

The churchyard itself is a poignant and peaceful space. It is home to a stone cross war memorial, a solemn tribute to the local men who made the ultimate sacrifice during the First World War. The memorial stands as a constant reminder of the community's history and resilience. An additional memorial is located inside the church, ensuring that their names and memory are forever honoured.

As you wander through the rows of gravestones, some worn with age and others still bearing clear inscriptions, you can feel the weight of history all around you. Each stone marks a life lived, a story told, and a connection to this place. The churchyard, with its moss-covered headstones and towering trees, is a place of quiet reflection and deep reverence.

An Enduring Presence

These photographs, taken a decade ago with a Samsung Galaxy Tablet, capture not just a building, but the soul of a place. They show a church that is both imposing and welcoming, a landmark that has been an integral part of Hebden Bridge's landscape for almost 190 years.

As St. James the Great prepares to celebrate its anniversary, we are reminded of its enduring significance. It is more than just a place of worship; it is a symbol of community, a repository of memory, and a beautiful piece of architectural heritage. Its stones hold the stories of generations, and as it enters its 190th year, it continues to be a steadfast beacon for the people of Hebden Bridge.

Built using Yorkshire Stone and rising 14ft high, this memorial is dedicated to the men killed from the local area in World War 1.

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A Quiet Echo of a Bygone Era: A Visit to Burnley Rose Grove Railway Station

Stepping onto the platform at Burnley Rose Grove railway station, you're not just arriving at a stop on the East Lancashire Line; you're stepping into a quiet echo of a bygone era. On a late summer day, the 19th of August 2022, I took my camera, a trusty Nikon D3300, to capture a station that, in many ways, tells a story of the ebb and flow of Britain's industrial past.

Burnley Rose Grove, which opened on September 18, 1848, was once a bustling hub, far grander than its current, minimalist form suggests. It was built to serve not only the Rose Grove suburb but also the nearby town of Padiham. The station's importance truly blossomed with the opening of the Great Harwood Loop, also known as the North Lancashire Loop, in 1875. This new line, connecting Rose Grove to Padiham and beyond, cemented the station's role as a vital link in the local rail network.

Looking at the station today, it’s hard to imagine the volume of activity that once took place here. The images I captured from the metal staircase leading down to the platforms giving a sense of the station's compact, functional nature. The blue metalwork of the bridge and stairs, though stark, serves as the main access point, a testament to the station's lack of disabled access and its simple, no-frills character.

The platforms themselves are a study in modern railway minimalism. A small shelter provides some cover from the Lancashire rain, and a few metal benches offer a place to rest. Information boards, like the one with "East Lancashire Line" proudly displayed, offer a connection to the wider rail network, but there are no cafes, no toilets, and no staff—a far cry from the station's heyday when it was a hive of activity.

The railway's story here is a familiar one. Passenger numbers began to decline between the two world wars, and the goods traffic that had sustained the station for so long started its own descent in the 1960s. The coal and oil trains, which once served the nearby power stations, made their last journeys in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The station's fate was sealed. The Great Harwood Loop closed in 1964, and the goods yard soon followed, much of it now buried beneath the concrete sprawl of the M65 motorway. By the early 1980s, the station buildings were gone, and the staff were withdrawn, leaving behind the stripped-down, essential stop we see today.

One of the most poignant scenes I captured was of the disused and overgrown rail track. Parallel to the active line, this track is a physical remnant of the station's past, swallowed up by nature. It's a powerful visual metaphor for a railway that has shrunk but not disappeared. The tracks that remain still serve a crucial purpose, splitting to the east with the East Lancashire Line continuing to Colne and the Caldervale Line heading towards Hebden Bridge and Todmorden.

Burnley Rose Grove is a junction, but it is also a quiet monument to a different time. It stands as a reminder that not all progress is about expansion and growth; sometimes, it's about finding a new, more modest purpose. For those who appreciate the subtle beauty of industrial heritage and the quiet narratives woven into our landscape, a visit to Burnley Rose Grove offers a moment of reflection—a chance to stand in a place where the past and present meet on parallel lines, one active and one reclaimed by the wild.

The only way to access the station is a steep metal staircase, a daunting climb that immediately highlights the lack of accessibility for disabled passengers or anyone with mobility issues. As you ascend or descend, you're faced with what I recall as 34 steps—a challenging number for anyone burdened with luggage or a pram.

This humble station bears little resemblance to its former glory. The center of the platform, now a wide, empty space, was once home to solid stone buildings. It's almost impossible to visualize the vast network of tracks that once existed here; I'm told there were two additional bay platforms and at least eight lines crisscrossing the area.

To the left of the main platform, where the overgrown goods yard once lay, a secret remains. I was later informed that the original bay platforms are still there, hidden from view, tucked away by the dense tree line on either side of the picture. They are a silent testament to a time when this station was a central hub of industry and transit.

Platform 2 occupies this southern side of the bay platform, Trains towards Hapton, Accrington and Blackburn can be caught here. Again the station's only access, the stairs can be seen.

Platform 2.

Overgrown and abandoned track bed viewed from Platform 1. I have been told that there was a bay platform where the trees are.

The island platform from the end of 1.

The opposite end of Platform 1, the sum total of the stations facilities on show, an info board, shelter and bench seats.

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A Frosty Morning's Embrace: Bridging Bradford's Landscape

There's a unique stillness to an early winter morning, especially one touched by frost. This image, captured on the 10th of December, 2022, perfectly encapsulates that quiet beauty. It's a view from a pedestrian bridge that gracefully arches over the A650 Wakefield Road dual carriageway, connecting the Sticker Lane and Dudley Hill areas of Bradford.

The photograph, taken with a Nikon D3300, tells a story of dawn breaking on a truly cold day. The path across the bridge is dusted with a delicate layer of frost, sparkling faintly in the nascent light. Each tiny ice crystal reflects the low, golden rays of the rising sun, creating a natural shimmer that contrasts beautifully with the dark, heavy clouds still clinging to the sky.

The railings, a mix of dark metal and a warmer, almost ochre tone on the brickwork at either end, frame the frosty expanse. Beyond the bridge, the trees stand bare and skeletal against the horizon, characteristic of winter's grip. Yet, there's a promise of warmth in the subtle glow that hints at the sun's eventual triumph over the morning chill.

This isn't just a bridge; it's a silent witness to countless commutes, daily strolls, and moments of quiet contemplation. On this particular morning, it offered a brief, picturesque interlude, a moment of stark beauty before the day's hustle truly began. It's a reminder that even in the most functional parts of our urban landscape, nature still finds a way to paint a breath taking scene.

Next time you're out on a frosty morning, take a moment. You might just find a similar, unexpected beauty right in your path.

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The picture remains the copyright of Colin Green.

The Hidden Corners of Heptonstall

Perched high above the bustling market town of Hebden Bridge, the village of Heptonstall feels like a place suspended in time. With its cobbled streets, rugged stone cottages, and a history etched into every building, it's a favourite spot for those who love to wander. While many come for the famous ruined church, my recent journey there was about exploring the lesser-known, quieter corners that truly define its character.

Heptonstall, home to around 1,400 people, has a long tradition of hand-loom weaving, a past that’s visible in its sturdy architecture. The village has also found a new kind of fame, recently serving as a backdrop for the drama The Gallows Pole, a story about the notorious Cragg Vale Coiners. Their leader, "King" David Hartley, is buried in the churchyard—a reminder that this idyllic setting has its share of dramatic history.

The images I captured on a crisp November day show a different side of the village, focusing on its nooks and crannies. The black and white photos accentuate the timelessness of the stone and slate. You can see the old Cloth Hall, where weavers would have sold their wares, its solid walls hinting at the commerce that once drove this community. Walking through the village, you discover delightful details, like the a foreboding archway leading down to the village square and the narrow passages, or "snickets," that wind between the houses. One such snicket, framed by an ancient archway dated 1778, feels like a secret passageway into the past. You can almost hear the echoes of generations of villagers hurrying through, their footsteps muffled by the same stone walls that stand today.

Another highlight was the old water pump, an austere but beautiful piece of functional history built into a stone archway. It’s a powerful symbol of a time before modern plumbing, when life was harder and every resource was valued.

While this set of photographs deliberately omits the more famous landmarks—the Wesleyan Chapel and the twin churches—they offer something more intimate. They reveal the soul of Heptonstall: a village of resilient stone, winding paths, and a palpable sense of history that you can feel with every step.

I took these pictures with a Samsung Galaxy Tablet on the 16th November 2016.

The Museum Snicket runs from Towngate alongside The Cloth Hall towards the Museum and Churchyard, which is to the right behind the metal railings.

The Cloth Hall on Towngate was built around 1545 by the Waterhouse family who lived at Shibden Hall, Halifax. The building was originally single story and known as Blackwell Hall, it was used by local hand-loom weavers to sell their cloth. The 2nd story was added around 1766 by John Uttley, and remained in use for traders until the Piece Hall was opened at Halifax in 1779. It is now a private residence and was granted Grade 11 Listed Status in December 1984.

Towngate is the main road through the village and features at least 15 Listed Buildings along it's length. The stone sets on the road were rediscovered in the 1980's, a plan to replace them was thought off by local residents and they were restored, it is now seen as helping to calm traffic down through the village.

The village water pump was replaced by a public water supply in July 1933.

Bottom of Towngate.

I think I took these last 2 somewhere near the church and museum, the bottom picture I would have thought must be amongst the oldest properties in the village.

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Crossing History: Mearclough Bridge

Standing on the banks of the River Calder at Sowerby Bridge, you can't help but feel a connection to centuries of local history. This spot, where the quiet stream flows past ancient stones, has been a key crossing point for hundreds of years, linking the historic townships of Norland and Warley. The latest, and most enduring, of these crossings is the beautiful, three-arched Mearclough Bridge.

My recent walk to the bridge took me along the river, a scene made even more picturesque by the rich autumn colours. The photos I took on that day perfectly capture the serene, almost timeless feel of the place. The river, with its gentle flow, contrasts with the solid, dependable presence of the stone bridge.

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A Bridge with a Story

The current Mearclough Bridge, a stunning stone structure, replaced a previous crossing sometime between 1774 and the early 1800s. Its history is tied to the local townships it connected. The people of Norland were once responsible for its upkeep and were even fined for neglecting it—a detail that highlights the bridge's importance to the community.

Today, its role has changed. The bridge is now a Grade II listed structure, protected from heavy traffic by modern restrictions. These changes were a welcome relief, especially after a new bridge, the Sterne Mills Bridge, was built in the mid-2010s to divert larger vehicles. Before that, Mearclough Bridge, barely wider than a single track, was repeatedly damaged by heavy goods vehicles heading to nearby industrial units. Now, it stands as a peaceful monument, a reminder of a bygone era.

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The River's Power

From the bridge, looking east toward Sowerby Bridge town centre, you can see the Mearclough Weir. It's a fascinating part of the landscape, hinting at the area’s industrial past. This weir is believed to have once powered the Mearclough Mills, said to have been a corn mill in the early 1800s. The river, once a source of industrial power, now offers a tranquil backdrop for a walk, its gentle cascade over the weir a perfect soundtrack to the quiet beauty of the surroundings.

This visit to Mearclough Bridge was a perfect reminder that history isn't just in books or museums. It's in the stones of the bridges we cross and the rivers that flow beneath them. It's a history that has shaped the landscape and the communities that call this place home.

The River Calder pictured from Mearclough Bridge, the former mill weir seen in the middle of the picture. Mearclough Mills were a chemical site by the turn of the 20th century and occupied land on both sides of the river. The mills were known as Triangle Mills by the 1930's and involved in photographic printing.

The River Calder again pictured from the bridge looking in the direction of Copley, To the left of the picture hidden by the trees is the Calder and Hebble Navigation, to the right again hidden by trees is a tow path that runs alngside the river to Sterne Mills Bridge.

Mearclough Bridge, the tunnel area just beyond the right arch was once the cellar of a dwelling that occupied the top corner of the structure. The Calder and Hebble Navigation is behind the wall a few feet higher than the river, there is a water overflow for the canal into the river to the right of the picture not shown.

Mearclough Bridge has 3 arches, the 2 larger ones pictured cross the water, a third one crosses waste ground now and is hidden by the trees to the left.

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A Winter Walk Along the Spen Valley Greenway: From the M62 to Cleckheaton

The Spen Valley Greenway, a linear park stretching for roughly 8 miles across West Yorkshire, offers a unique blend of nature, history, and urban convenience. It follows the former route of the Spen Valley Railway, a line that once connected Low Moor to Ravensthorpe. Having already explored the section from Low Moor to the M62, I recently ventured out on a crisp December day to walk the next stretch: from the motorway bridge to the old site of Cleckheaton Central Railway Station. The journey proved to be a quiet, reflective ramble through a landscape transformed.

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A Ghost of a Railway

The Spen Valley Railway, originally known as the Mirfield and Low Moor Railway, was a vital artery for the region. It first opened in 1848, with a branch line added a year later. At its peak, it served eight stations, connecting bustling towns like Cleckheaton, Liversedge, and Heckmondwike. Passenger services ceased in 1965, a casualty of the Beeching cuts, and freight traffic ended in the late 1980s. The track bed, left to nature, became a linear wilderness until Sustrans acquired it in 1998, transforming it into the greenway we know today.

As you walk this section, the history of the line is ever-present. You pass beneath a series of bridges—some rust-stained steel girders, others crafted from brick or stone—that once carried roads and people over the railway. These structures, including the one at Whitcliffe Road, are a powerful reminder of the route’s industrial past, now softened by time and greenery. Occasional remnants of the railway, like old sleepers and signal posts, are still visible if you look closely, adding to the feeling of walking through a living museum.

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From M62 to Cleckheaton Central

Starting just north of the colossal M62 bridge, the path narrows and the air grows quiet. This initial stretch feels more enclosed, with thickets of trees and undergrowth creating a natural tunnel. Graffiti-covered concrete walls flank the path, a modern counterpoint to the area's history. As you proceed, the path gently meanders, and the sound of traffic fades into the background.

The walk is surprisingly flat, a testament to the engineering of the original railway. The route's gentle curves take you past open fields and through wooded sections where the winter sun casts long shadows across the gravel track. It’s here you can appreciate the work that went into converting the overgrown trackbed into a smooth, accessible route for cyclists and walkers. You'll see locals out for a stroll or a bike ride, proving the greenway's success as a community resource. Before you know it, you arrive at the former site of Cleckheaton Central Railway Station. There's no grand station building here anymore; instead, you find a paved platform area with benches and railings. It's a poignant space, as if the ghosts of commuters and steam trains still linger. Adjacent to the site is a large supermarket, a stark symbol of how the landscape has evolved. The railway has been replaced by a new form of commerce, but the greenway ensures the corridor itself remains a vital link for the community.

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The Future of the Line

It’s interesting to note that there are ongoing discussions about reopening parts of the line. With a population of over 50,000 people along the Spen Valley route and limited rail access, both heavy and light rail proposals are being considered. Walking the greenway, it’s easy to see the potential. The track bed is largely clear and unbuilt upon, offering a tantalizing glimpse of what a restored rail service could be. It's a testament to the foresight of those who preserved this route that such a conversation is even possible.

For now, the Spen Valley Greenway stands as a perfect example of repurposing. It’s a route for commuters, a place for exercise, a corridor for nature, and a living piece of history all in one. Whether you’re a local or just passing through, it's a fantastic way to spend a few hours, connecting with the past while enjoying the present.

The M62 Chain Bar Railway Bridge, pictured from the north (Low Moor) side. The line closed here whilst the M62 was constructed, this stretch of track remained open until 1981 as far south as Heckmondwike.

The southern end of the M62 Chain Bar Bridge. Laithe Hill Footbridge can be seen a sort distance down the cutting.

Laithe Hill Bridge.

Whitechapel Road Bridge,

A row of railway sleepers to the north of Cleckheaton, I'm guessing these were placed here as a nod to the greenways railway heritage.

The Spen Valley Greenway on a slight climb up to Whitcliffe Road Bridge. The line started to pen up just beyond the bridge to enter Cleckheaton Central Station and goods yard.

Whitcliffe Road Bridge from the opposite side.

The former trackbed away from Whitcliffe Road Bridge in the direction Cleckheaton Central Station.

The previous 2 pictures show the site of Cleckheaton Central Railway Station, the goods yard was off to the right of the picture and is now a Tesco Supermarket.

The former Cleckheaton Central Railway Station, which first welcomed passengers in 1847, met an untimely end in June 1965, a casualty of the infamous Beeching cuts. While goods traffic continued for a few more years, ceasing in May 1969, the station itself seemed to be on a clear path to demolition. But the story of its end took a truly bizarre and unexpected turn.

In a tale that sounds like something from a mystery novel, British Rail's demolition crew arrived at the site in August 1971, only to find nothing but an empty plot. The station had vanished. It turns out, a different contractor had already "cleared" the site over three weeks, a job for which they were never paid.

This remarkable incident led to a court case in 1972 at Wakefield Crown Court, where a contractor was accused of stealing the station—or, more accurately, its stone, timber, and metal fittings. He claimed he had been hired by an untraceable third party, a story the court believed. He was found not guilty, a victim of a very unusual scam that left him out of pocket but free of a criminal record.

To this day, the case of Cleckheaton Central remains a unique footnote in British history: the only time a railway station was stolen. It's a fittingly strange end for a piece of industrial heritage that has been so beautifully repurposed into the Spen Valley Greenway.

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Ruskin's View: A Glimpse of the Divine, and a Race to Save It

For a moment, standing at a certain vantage point in Kirkby Lonsdale, you can feel a connection to history, art, and the very soul of the English countryside. This is Ruskin's View, a panorama so stunning it moved one of the Victorian era's most influential figures, John Ruskin, to declare it "one of the loveliest views in England, therefore in the world."

The view, a sweeping vista of the River Lune valley, has been immortalized not only by Ruskin's words but also by the brush of one of Britain's greatest painters, J.M.W. Turner. His painting, an ethereal depiction of the Cumbrian landscape, captures the essence of the scene looking northwards from St Mary's churchyard, with Underley Hall nestled in the distance. The painting itself is a masterpiece, and in 2012, it fetched a price of over £200,000, a sum that puts it well out of reach for most of us.

But the beauty of Ruskin's View is that you don't need a fortune to own it. You just need to be there. And so, on April 4th, 2015, I did just that. With a simple Polaroid is2132 camera, I aimed to capture my own version of the scene, standing where Turner once stood, and taking in the same "naturally divine" landscape that so captivated Ruskin. The photos I took show the view in two directions—the classic northward vista that inspired Turner, and a couple of shots looking south-east, revealing a different, but equally beautiful, aspect of the valley.

The pictures reveal a tranquil scene: the River Lune, winding like a silver ribbon through lush green fields, with scattered trees and distant hills providing a soft, rolling backdrop. The sky, filled with dramatic clouds, is reflected perfectly in the river's calm surface, creating a mirror image of the heavens on earth. The vibrant yellows of daffodils in the foreground add a touch of cheerful colour, hinting at the promise of spring.

But this timeless view is, sadly, under threat. In late 2015, just months after these pictures were taken, Storm Desmond wreaked havoc on the area, severely damaging the banking that supports the footpath and the viewpoint itself. The area has been closed to the public ever since, a stark reminder of nature's power and fragility. The local town council is now in a race against time, trying to raise £1 million to repair the damage and reopen this beloved spot. The thought of this view being lost for good is heart breaking, not just for the local community but for anyone who cherishes the beauty of the English countryside.

Ruskin's View is more than just a pretty picture; it's a historical and cultural landmark, a place that has inspired generations. It's a reminder of a time when people had a deeper, more profound connection to the natural world. As we wait for the restoration efforts to succeed, these images serve as a precious record of what we stand to lose. Let us hope that this cherished corner of the world is not lost to the elements, and that future generations will be able to stand in the same spot, and feel the same sense of awe that Turner and Ruskin once did.

The 2 pictures above show the Lune Valley in a south eastern direction.

The picture above and below show the valley in the same direction and from a similar position as Turner's painting.

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All the pictures remain the copyright of Colin Green.