Uphilldowndale

Watching nature take its course, from the top of a hill in northern England


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How old?

Nine years today, since my first post. Which seems pretty amazing to me.  As does this view, it’s Newborough beach on Anglesey, we’ve visited here a few times; whilst Tom has been studying at Bangor university, not so very far away. He’d have been twelve when I started blogging. He handed in his dissertation last week and has only a couple of exams left to sit.

Newbrough_


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Did someone mention Spring?

Well, it came and went

snowing april_

Cold winds blew

snowing april lamb

Then the sun shone, but it seemed no warmer, although the sight of a curlew always warms the heart.

Curlew_

Then clouds blew by again, I’m fascinated by how different fields ‘hold’ the snow longer than others.

All kinds of weather_

Strangely the life force that is spring growth, has kept moving despite the chill of winds from the artic , you know I’m a sucker for larch trees

larch cones  3

The icy jewels were a very pretty adornment, that kept my rapt attention, for quite some time. 

larch cones  2_

Then it was drawn to my attention to the fact,

larch cones_

that I did promise I’d play ball….

larch cones  and spud


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Fluffy Clouds

We got more blue sky and fluffy clouds today than the weather forecasters led us to expect. Not very warm though.

The trees are on the brink of bursting into leaf, but we are there yet.

fluffy blue sky_

Yesterday was the Queens 90th birthday, our neighbours got a nice new flag to mark the occasion.

McDW  Flag_

It’s a while since I posted, we’ve been a bit under the weather, Mr Uphilldowndale and I, a strange little virus that seemed to be able to drain every last drop of energy and leave behind achy joints and lethargy. We are on the mend now, but it scuppered our planned trip away in the van last weekend. 


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Time and Tide Part II (and a little bit)

Yesterday Gerry asked what the view was like looking inland, from the site of the wreck of the Helevita, ‘would it be this isolated or would it show a cheerful holiday destination?’

I don’t think much can have changed since the night of the wreck, although there might be more bracken (which is what is being burnt off, left of shot)

Rhosilli Bay 2

The house, the Old Rectory, is  owned by The National Trust and is available for holiday lets.

Rhosilli Bay_


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Time and Tide Part II

I was giving you a tour of Rhosilli Bay on the Gower Peninsular,  but I got distracted. It happens.

I thought you might like to see the remains of   the Helvetia, wrecked  in 1887

Wreck

It is amazing that the tides and pounding storms of the last 129 years haven’t swept away every trace of this ship, especially as it was extensively salvaged.

And given that these are timbers, wood, a natural, bio-degradable material, and they are still with on this beach,  just think  of plastic and of its non bio-degradable qualities, and hold that thought, for a post or two.

Its old  timber bones have simply slumped into the sands

Wreck 3 

Explorer Edgar Evans, was born in Rhosilli in in 1876, its said* that as a young boy seeing the drama of the wrecking of the Helvetia was in part, instrumental in him joining the navy, where he became a member of the “Polar Party” in Robert Falcon Scott‘s ill-fated Terra Nova Expedition to the South Pole in 1911–1912 from which he never returned.

Worms head_

* I did read that bit in the pub in Rhosilli, I think I’ve got the detail right. I’m sure someone will correct me if needs be.


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Salted Seasons.

I pulled in the car park at the top of Holme Moss for all ten minuets today and watched four seasons of weather whizz by.

There was hail, sleet and a dash of show

Sleeting Holme Moss_

Emly Moor mast,  briefly sparkled in the sun, it stands at over a thousand feet in height and is a Grade II listed building, it puts the wind turbines in the shade.

Emley Moor_

These dark satanic looking  turbines emerged out of the swirling hail, they brought to mind the film, War of The Worlds, as the seemingly marched across the moors.

Black wind farm 2_

Back over the county boundary from Yorkshire into Derbyshire, I met the gritter lorry climbing the steep hill casting its cargo of salt. That’s a shame I thought, I’d have liked a photo of that,  I rather like the bleached grass, the empty road, the tar black winter heather, the flash of orange; but  there was no where to pull over. 

Then it occurred to me that it would, being a Derbyshire county council lorry, turn at the summit and county boundary, and come back down the hill again,  so I swung into one of the big laybys (designed I suspect for when in heavy snow, the gritter lorry can’t make it up the hill and needs to  turn and retreat).

Got it! 

Gritting_

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