VE Day: 80 Years On
Eighty years have passed since Victory in Europe Day, a moment etched in the collective memory by black-and-white newsreels showing ecstatic crowds flooding the streets of London and other major cities. But away from the capital, in the quieter corners of Cleveland and North Yorkshire, the mood was more restrained — though no less meaningful, filled with ...
The Postgate School
Here’s one I’ve been saving up, not for a rainy day, for today has been anything but rainy, positively sweltering, but a day when being Out & About has been a touch limited.
It is a photo of the hallowed “village schoolroom museum” of Great Ayton, proudly preserving the educational shrine where James Cook—local boy turned world explorer—supposedly learned his ABCs. Except, of cour ...
Lesser Celandine: Poetry, Pollinators, and Piles
Lesser celandine is a welcome sight, provided one enjoys squinting at small yellow flowers. In a hailstorm, it folds itself up, retreating like a weary thing, as Wordsworth put it in The Lesser Celandine. Wordsworth is better known for his poem about daffodils, but he was apparently more enamoured with this unassuming plant, compos ...
http://www.fhithich.uk/2025/03/27/lesser-celandine-poetry-pollinators-and-piles/
Northern runs first dementia-friendly ‘Forget Me Not’ train http://dlvr.it/TJdvqh #CastletonMoor #Glaisdale #GreatAyton #GypsyLane
Lent—A Season of Daffodils, Fasting, and Fuzzy Maths
Another year, another excuse to photograph some daffodils—sorry, Lenten Lilies, as they are so charmingly called in Yorkshire. Whether these particular specimens on the bank of the River Leven in Great Ayton are the pure, wild, English variety is highly doubtful, but what a tragedy that would be.
Now, in c ...
http://www.fhithich.uk/2025/03/19/lent-a-season-of-daffodils-fasting-and-fuzzy-maths/
The Teachers’ Bridge
A comment on an old post prompted me to take this photograph. It shows the River Leven meandering lazily through what was once the grounds of the Friends’ School in Great Ayton. The water tumbles over a small weir on the left, adding a touch of drama to an otherwise tranquil scene, while the so-called “teachers’ bridge” spans the river further downstream. The riverbank boasts a fi ...
Cliff Rigg Scallywags Hideout
A year ago, I wrote about the Great Ayton Scallywags Patrol, a secretive Auxiliary Unit stationed in the area during the Second World War. Unlike the familiar, shambolic image of “Dad’s Army,” these men were part of a covert Home Guard unit. If the Germans had invaded, they could expect to last about a week—hardly an encouragin ...
http://www.fhithich.uk/2025/02/22/cliff-rigg-scallywags-hideout/
12 February 1933: Hitler’s Message to Britain
On 12 February 1933, Great Ayton would have been its usual quiet self on that Sunday morning. Most of the villagers would have been dutifully attending church, the weather was dreary, and the temperature was barely above freezing. A drizzle added to the general cheerlessness. After church, families would have eaten their Sunday dinners, perhaps visited neighbours, go for a walk ...
Walking on Water: What Happens When Public Paths Are Washed Away?
This photo has been on the cards for a while now. It’s one for posterity. The river, as rivers do, is steadily eating away at the bank. Sooner or later—perhaps next year, perhaps in ten— that electricity transmission pole will keel over, and Holmes Bridge, if it is still standing, will connect to an island in the River Leven.
Which raises the ...
The Wurzelweg of Larner’s Hill
I have walked this path up Larner’s Hill to Captain Cook’s Monument more times than I care to count. Where it winds past Round Hill Wood, exposed tree roots have formed what could generously be called natural steps. Supposedly, this is a Public Bridleway, though one would have to admire the optimism of anyone attempting it on horseback or bicycle.
To the left of the path lies an overgrow ...
The Bullfinch: Bouncer, Thief, and Reluctant Songbird
Ah, the Bullfinch. Black-headed Bullies. Blood-Olphs. Whatever you prefer to call them, here they are, battling the winter like pint-sized gladiators. The sun, feeble and disinterested, barely filters through the foliage as I trudge back to the village along the River Leven. A few shrivelled leaves cling stubbornly to the trees, while dead Dock stalks loom like skeletal sent ...
Winter’s Teeth
Sometimes, one stumbles across a so-called fascinating photograph in the most banal of places. I happened upon this forest of icicles whilst driving into Middlesbrough. On the return journey, I abandoned the car in a field entrance and voila.
There is an aesthetic beauty to ice-shoggles, as they were once called in the Cleveland dialect, all delicate and fleeting. Nature’s frozen baubles, decorating the bleak wint ...
Wellies, Floods, and the Debate over Captain Cook
Billy Connolly once sang about the virtues of wellies: “Cause they keep out the water, and they keep in the smell.” This morning, I was rather pleased to have followed his wisdom, as the path to Little Ayton was a sodden mess thanks to the rain and snowmelt. Here is a photo of the path submerged under floodwater, reflecting the dreary sky above. It is all very poeti ...
Sliding into Oblivion: Adventures in Cliff Rigg Quarry
Ah, Twelfth Night at last—perhaps now we can be rid of those garish Christmas lights for another ten months, though no doubt someone will cling to their festive cheer until next month.
After all the news programmes whipped themselves into a frenzy last might over the impending snowstorm and freezing rain, waking up here in Cleveland to quite a pitifu ...
A Festive Hack or a Public Nuisance? My Meeting with the Hunt
Ah, the Boxing Day Hunt – that charming spectacle where tradition meets a total disregard for everyone else on the bridleway. How delightful to encounter the alpha redcoat, who generously allowed me some space before the rest of the merry field boxed me against the fence. Nose to tail they rode, oblivious to the fact that not everyone enjoys being part of an equest ...
The Loftus Mine Rescue of 1935 and the Bravery of George Heslop
On this day, 17th December, in 1935, a roof collapse at Loftus Ironstone mine trapped two miners, John Cooper Henry and Henry Murrell, under a heap of rock.
Enter George Heslop, the mine’s Agent and Manager, who arrived at 9 a.m. to find that the roof was still collapsing and other miners were understandably reluctant to risk th ...
Great Ayton’s Flood Defences Save the Day
Last night’s Storm Darragh was excuse enough for a stroll along the River Leven. Something vaguely dramatic might have happened. The flood defence scheme had indeed sprung into action, with the old hockey pitch of the former Friends’ School now masquerading as a water meadow. Amusingly, before the school turned it into playing fields, it was a boating lake, which ...
Slacks Wood Quarry And a Stream of Many Names
A dreich morning. Rain, wind and low cloud forced me to keep low, sticking to the woods where I could at least avoid the worst of the weather. This meant I had little choice but to focus on the minutiae. Hence this stream. It cannot even decide on a single name. Near its source on Great Ayton Moor, it is called Howden Gill. Here, in Slacks W ...
http://www.fhithich.uk/?p=36865
#GreatAyton #NorthYorkMoors #19thcentury #history #whinstone
Autumn Leaves and the Forgotten Tradition of Mischief Night
From the village up to Cliff Rigg, the Hall Fields footpath wends its way through this dense copse, and at most times the trees loom rather ominously, as though a scene from some gothic tale. But today they are dressed in the splendour of autumn’s palette. Each leaf, it seems, is vying to display its own shade of russet, amber, or gold, though the higher branches ar ...
The Little Egret of Great Ayton
This morning, I set out with some faint notion of a nature photograph for today's post. Nothing specific, but as fate would have it, on crossing the bridge over to Waterfall Park, I spotted Great Ayton’s resident Little Egret. Yes, “resident,” as though this bird has become some fixture of local society.
There it stood—in resplendent white, with a beak like a dagger and feathe ...
