One of Fallon’s Anglers

Many of you may not know but photography is not my only passion, I have another which has sometimes kept me away from the darkroom when I should have been working and sometimes away from my bed when I should have been sleeping, and that is the gentle art of fishing. So I was over the moon when I was given the opportunity to combine my two passions and create an article for the wonderful fishing journal Fallon’s Angler. I had a fantastic time exploring some of my favourite rivers with my 5×4 camera and a fishing rod while trying to capture some of the essence of being on the bankside and fond memories of fishing with my grandfather.

Inside Article

If you want to find out more and maybe purchase a copy to read for yourself please follow this link

http://fallonsangler.net/product/fallons-angler-issue-6-pre-order-for-april-18th/

Profile Picture2

Thanks

Graham

The Long Haul

If you have ever driven across the A66 motorway as it crosses over the wide expanse of fell and moorland between Bowes and Brough called Stainmore you may have noticed a black metal sign standing a short distance below the road. The sign is a replica of one which stood beside a train line that once past by here and simply reads “Stainmore Summit. Height 1370 Feet”  this is the highest summit of any railway track in England and was an engineering feat of it’s age. But like so many of these rural lines “The South Durham and Lancashire Union Railway” didn’t survie the Beeching cuts of the 1960’s and the last train to pass this point was on the 5th of April 1965.

The Stainmore line has interested me for a while and few years ago I visited it not far from the summit sign and the photographs I took became one of my first posts on this blog called  “Return to Bleath Gill” . On that morning in March 2013 a late fall of snow had covered the hills and the old railway embankments were covered by deep drifts. However this day couldn’t have been more different as I stepped out of the car to meet my friend and fellow photographer Gary Liggett on a bright crisp Autumn morning. So under a clear blue sky we started to follow the course of the line towards Bowes, soon reaching a shallow cutting lined on both sides by crumbling stone walls and the occasional gnarled alder tree. The rains the night before had turned the old bed of the railway into a quick flowing stream, almost transforming it from it’s heavy indusrtial past back into a moorland beck. It was then that I realised that in my rush to get ready I hadn’t brought all of my film. All I had was my 6 sheets of 5×4 in my grafmatic back and one role of 120 I found at the bottom of my camera bag, but luckily for me I still had what was left of my pack of Type 665 polaroid. So I was going to have to be careful with what I chose to shoot especially as the light was becoming more and more promising. Clouds had started to sweep in from the west casting long shadows over the landscape, it was becoming a perfect day to be on the moors with a camera.

All became water

All Became Water, Stainmore. Polaroid Type 665.

We continued on and soon the cutting opened out onto an embankment with a river, in fact River Greta running below us and infront wide views across the Forest of Stainmore. In the far distance a small plate layers hut came into view, it still had it’s chimney but it windows had been blocked up long ago. As we got closer we could see it’s door had been left off it’s hinges but inside it still had it’s small open fire hearth. These little shelters must have been a real life saver in cold days, which are common up here even during the summer. How many times during the life of this hut had it provided a respite for the railwaymen caught out in the snows and driving winds of deep winter?

The Long Haul

The Long Haul, Stainmore.

As we passed by the hut and carried on it became obvious it was going to become increasingly difficult to get much further so we decided to turn round and start walking back towards the cars. Throughout the morning we hardly noticed our slow descent, but now Gary and I could really start to feel it as we headed back up towards the summit. It was turning out to be a long and steady haul and things were being made harder by the fact the ground which seemed solid at the begining still frozen from the previous night, had now thawed turning everything into oozing marsh. By time we reached our starting point we were both covered up to our knees in mud. Well at least it was at the end of the walk and not the begining.

Cheers

Graham

The Great Look Out!

This is a bit of a late post. It was at the end of Febuary and I was back in Swaledale with my friend Gareth and my dad for another walk, this time to the summit of the mighty Great Shunner Fell! Not only was it my first proper fell walk of the year it was also my first attempt to climb this impressive mountain, which dominates the heads of Swaledale and Wensleydale and at 716 meters above sea level and just so happens to be the third biggest fell in the Yorkshire Dales.

It was a bright sharp day when we set off from the small village of Thwaite which nestles in a fold of hills near the head of the dale. We followed the path of the Pennine Way up the long slopping ridge along the edge of Stock Dale towards Shunner Fell Rake. As we slowly climbed up the slope stopping here and there to take pictures the more the summit loomed above us. Beneath its domed top, snow cornices still clung to the ridges and gullies on the fell sides.

The higher we ascended up the fell’s broad shoulder towards Shunner Fell Rake the more this mountain started to live up to the name it was given by the Norse settlers who came to this part of the world in the 10th century “Sjon’s lookout hill” from the Old Norse, Sjon + haugr meaning hill. All round us the views started to open up. To the north Teesdale and Mickle Fell could be seen with Stainmore and the A66 lying in between, to the south the high tops of Pen-y-Ghent and Ingleborough. We stopped for a quick break beside the large cairn which marked the beginning of the steep rake to the summit.

Shunner Rake Cairn

The cairn is a fantastic example of the wall builders art and must have stood over 6ft tall, it had slump to one side slightly giving it the impression of stoop old man. We had a quick cuppa as we soaked in the wild grandeur of the landscape that was stretching out before us before continuing on our journey along the rake which is an old Cumbrian term for a steep path or track up a hill. The closer we got to our goal we were treated with more glorious panoramas and mountain vistas, now Wild Boar Fell and Mallerstang could be seen and behind them the Howgill Fells could just be made out.

Shunner Fell pool

At the top we found a very comfortable shelter cairn so we hunkered down for a while out of the cold wind, mixed with occasional snow flurry, soaking up the atmosphere of the summit before starting our long descent down to the Buttertubs Pass and then back to Thwaite. This was by no means an easy route as it meant crossing the enticingly named Grainy Gill Moss and Grimy Gutter Hags. When people started to name these places they didn’t just pick names on a whim they were often descriptive and created to form a kind of oral map of the landscape so “Grain or Grainy” means a meeting of gills or sikes and “Moss” is the old term for a marsh or peat bog with that in mind we where pretty thankful the ground (if you could call it that) was still part frozen as I have no doubt that we would have been up to our ears in peat if we tried it on a wet summers day!!

I took a few more pictures before we dropped down onto the road that would lead us back to the car just as more dark clouds swept across the fell.

Clouds Over Shunner

Once we dropped down to the massive limestone sink holes of Buttertubs the rest of the walk was on tarmac which always makes the journey a bit longer than it should, even more so this time because I knew I had a 6 hour shift behind the bar at work to look forward to. So sadly this time we didn’t have the pleasure of celebrating what was a fantastic day out in the hills, we will just have to save it for later!!

 

Cheers

Graham

 

Land Of Lead Revisited!

A few weeks ago me and my girlfriend Helen was chatting with my mate Gareth over a nice pint when me and Gaz started to reminisce about our recent trip to the Old Gang Smelt Mill in Swaledale, the conversation soon moved onto new topics but it got me thinking about whether I really got the most from all the pictures I had taken that day? There was one in particular I’d been really disappointed that it hadn’t turned out as I hoped. So inspired by my friend today I made a bit of spare time in my darkroom session to take a second look at the one that nearly got away.

 

Smelt Mill

Smelt Mill Door, Swaledale. 90mm Schneider Angulon lens, Fomapan 200.

The final photograph was made by contact printing the negative onto Fomatone Chamois paper at grade two and half for 6 seconds with a bit of extra burning in. I think in the future I should follow in my friend and photographic hero Bill Schwab’s advice and not be scared of thin negatives but love them for their beautiful delicate tones, the devil is in the detail after all!!

And of cause thank you Gareth for putting me back on track!!

Cheers

Graham

 

 

 

Land Of Lead

 

These days I usually head out to the hills by myself and I don’t often get chance to go walking with my friends. So when I got a call from one of my best and oldest friends asking me if I wanted to head out for a walk I wasn’t going to miss out on the opportunity! We made plans to meet after the new year. By then more snow had arrived and as we drove through Richmond and started to head up Swaledale the landscape quickly became a winter wonderland of snow and ice.

We where heading for Surrender Bridge which sits high in the fells above the small town of Reeth. From there we wanted to explore the ruins of the Old Gang Smelt Mill one of the best preserved relics of lead mining industry that’s once dominated this landscape.

It’s a steep drive up to Surrender Bridge and the higher we climbed the worse the roads became. I couldn’t help feeling grateful that I had just replaced my front tyres, and for once I had someone with me who could get out and push. Very soon the road had completely vanished beneath the snow, but luckily it stated to level out a bit so we decided it would be safer to park up and travel the rest of the way on foot.

It seemed like an age since me and Gareth had last been out walking together, and it didn’t take long for us to fall back into our usual banter of music, films, and on this particular trip the Viking Saga’s! Crossing the mysteriously named Surrender Bridge, talk turned to the possible origins of it’s name, which as far I’m as I am aware know one alive today knows? On the OS map higher up the fell they have marked a Surrender Ground and a Surrender Moss which I think all took their names from the local Surrender Mine, but where that name comes from who knows?  We followed the Old Gang Beck up its little dale and quickly we started stopping to take pictures. The landscape was breath taking, the thin dusting of snow gave a dramatic contrast to the dark heather and the dry stone walls, while all the time clouds constantly rolled over the fells.

North Gate To Brownsey Moor

North Gate to Browney Moor, 90mm Schneider Angulon and Fomapan 200.

Soon we reached the dramatic ruins of the Old Gang Smelt Mill. I often come across the remains of lead mining on my walks and I still find it hard to believe that these places where once the centres of a major heavy industry which boomed throughout the 18th and 19th century, at it’s hight employing 1,260 people in Swaledale alone. The days freezing weather brought into sharp foucus what the men, woman and quite often children had to endure to earn their daily wage. But by the 20th century cheap importants forced all the mines to close, and in the end the Old Gang Lead Mining Company which was once one of the largest employers in the dale was sold for £25 in 1933. We climbed above the old smelt mill to explore the ruins of the massive peat store. The huge structure was said to hold up 3 years supply of dried peat to feed the fires of the mills in the valley below. The game keepers had been hard at work burning back the heather for the red grouse, and the charred remains seemed to suit the subject matter somehow.

Peat House

Peat Store, 90mm Schneider Angulon and Fomapan 200

Soon the weather started to close in around us as heavy snow laiden clouds started to move across the hills, so we decided to leave the higher summit for another day and beat a retreat back to the car before it became buried in fresh snow.

Throughout the day we talked a lot about the Norse settlers who came to these dales in the 10th century and left there mark in many of the place names and dialect of their descendants. Many of which I’ve used in this post such as dale, fell, beck many of which can be seen in the place names of Norway and Iceland. But a poem kept returning to me which I first read as student which though not really Nordic seemed apt for days weather….

“Where has gone the steed? Where has gone the man? Where has gone the giver of treasure? Where has gone the place of banquets? Where has gone the pleasure of the hall? Alas, the gleaming chalice; alas, the armoured warrior; alas, the majesty of the prince! Truly, that time has passed away, grown dark under the helm of night as though it had never been. Now there remains among the traces of those dear people a wall, remarkably high, painted with serpentine patterns. The might of ash spears has snatched away the men, the weapon greedy for carnage, notorious fate; and storms beat upon those heaps of stones. A falling snow storms fetters the earth, winter’s howling. The darkness comes; the shadow of night spreads gloom and send from the north fierce hailstorms to the terror of men. The whole kingdom of earth is full of hardship. Here wealth is ephemeral; here a friend is ephemeral; here man is ephemeral; here kinsman is ephemeral; all this this foundation of earth will become desolate.”

Wanderer [Book Of Exeter]

See the Anglo-Saxons could write a pretty good tale as well Gaz!!

If you want to see more photographs from our trip to the fells please have look of my friends blog post:

https://numberofthegaz.wordpress.com/2015/01/21/old-gang-smelt-mill-swaledale-north-yorkshire/

Thanks once again for reading!

Graham