Bingley to Ravenroyd

Leaving Bingley behind, I followed the track alongside the river. It is quite peaceful, although the track is the main access to a riding school and stables at Ravenroyd so it is used by vehicles. I'd not walked this way before and I was quite charmed by how attractive this stretch of the river is.

The farm at Ravenroyd draws your eye from afar. It is a listed building built in the early 1600s, with later additions. It has wonderful mullioned windows and an unusual stone gutter with projecting rainwater spouts. It nestles rather sweetly in the valley, and I was reminded that this area is known as 'Throstle's Nest' - throstle being an old word for a thrush. I've not found out a great deal about the house, except that at one time it was associated with the Quakers.

River views

Once across Ireland Bridge, my route took me alongside the river, with nice views of the backs of the properties on Bingley Old Main Street. The weir was originally built to power a mill that has now been demolished.

As I said yesterday, the surrounding properties do sometimes flood and I noticed a 'river level recorder', which I assume gives advance warning of potential problems.

You don't have to walk far from the main roads to begin to feel like you're in a different world. The river was very calm and there were some super reflections.

The path follows a track that leads past the newish apartments. A little further along there are three large detached properties, so newly built that only one is lived in so far. Across the river, a small estate of older houses leads to Bingley Cemetery, so the buildings give way to trees and greenery. After that, it all becomes suddenly quite rural....

Action on the river

There was a fabulous sky when I was walking by the river.  It was good to see the rowers back in action too, though I was amused to see that this guy (apparently a novice) managed to fall in seconds after I took the shot! He was in the process of turning to return to the bank and I guess there is quite a current right there just in front of the weir. He obviously didn't take it into account! The river at that point doesn't seem too deep so he managed to swim or wade to the bank pulling the boat. Meanwhile various people rushed from the boathouse with ropes in case he needed help. I tried not to laugh.

Pass times

Salmon chanted evening, you may see a stranger... no, a salmon, leaping the weir at Saltaire. That's the theory, anyway. I mentioned back in March (HERE) that they were starting to construct a fish pass, with the aim of encouraging salmon and other fish to negotiate the weir to spawn in the upper reaches of the River Aire, something they have not been able to do for decades, as the weirs are too long and steep for the fish to leap. It's clearly a bigger project than I imagined and despite the recent rain causing the river to flow deeper and faster than it was doing back in March, they seem to be making progress. The concrete walls seem to be almost finished. There's an impression HERE of how it may look when complete.

In the background, the children's playground remains locked and unused. Such a shame. It would be nice if they could unlock them again for the school holidays. I can't imagine there is too much danger of the virus spreading outside, though I think it's the probability of lots of people touching the same surfaces that is the real issue.

One of those days!

The rain came, after a spell of hot, sunny weather, and not just rain but wind and thunderstorms too. It wasn't enticing to go out. On top of that I had a few days of feeling rather fatigued and achey - nothing serious and hard to tell if it was actual or simply a result of feeling fed up of the pandemic and the world in general... Anyhow, when I felt a little better and the rain stopped, I decided I should make myself have a walk, just my usual local circuit of river and canal, travelling light with only my phone. 

I read somewhere recently that you can take photos on an iPhone by pressing the volume control. I decided that might be easier in some situations than reaching for the white 'blob', so I tried it. It was only when I got home that I realised I'd taken screen shots and not proper photos. Doh! Never mind, they weren't going to be masterpieces anyway. 

Hirst Weir was in full flow after the rain and a group of kayakers were having a well-earned break after battling the river. I wonder if they carried the boats past the weir or if they tried white-water rafting? I hope not the latter, as it must be quite a dangerous spot with so many rocks and no clear channel through.

My walk threw up a few mildly interesting nature notes: 

a tall and striking plant by the river's edge that I didn't recognise, in appearance not unlike a foxglove but with bell-shaped flowers. It appears (after consulting my wild flower book) to be a giant bellflower. (I might have guessed!)

The local cormorant had taken up a roost in the river by Roberts Park.

The new nature reserve's wildflower meadow is rampant, though hard to tell if there are any interesting species yet. It seemed to be mostly thistles and ox-eye daisies. 

As I was returning along the canal towpath I spotted another tree newly collapsed and blocking much of the width of the waterway;  a victim, perhaps, to the recent drought followed by the strong wind and rain.  The kayakers, by now on their return journey and choosing the canal rather than battling upstream against the fast-flowing river, were having a little difficulty finding a way past the obstruction. 

Hebden Bridge(s)

The original, narrow packhorse bridge spanning Hebden Water, dating back to the 1500s, still stands in Hebden Bridge town centre. Packhorses used to have to make the arduous journey to and from the weaving village of Heptonstall high on the hill top, taking cloth to the market in Halifax.

A little further up Hebden Water is a newer road bridge, with attractive views up and down stream.

After our dry spring, the water is very low and it all looks quite innocuous. The town sits at the junction of Hebden Water with the River Calder, its watery geography further complicated by the Rochdale Canal that runs through town alongside the Calder. When it rains the rivers rise quickly, fed by run off from the high moorland all around. There have been several devastating floods, notably in 2015. Locals anxiously watch the rising of the water up the curved steps by the old bridge (see my second photo)  as they give a quick indication of how bad things are getting! 

River abstracts

I enjoyed finding patterns in the river as the water rippled in the breeze.
Then I enjoyed playing around with them in processing, to see what else I could do with them. In the images below, I just added a layer of texture and soft colour.

Roaming along the river

I don't often explore the Aire river bank beyond Hirst Woods towards Bingley. The path is narrower and it's neither as picturesque nor as easy to access and navigate as my more local stretch but sometimes it's good to make the effort. I was rewarded with the sight of a mother goosander and her four chicks, sunbathing on rocks. I haven't spotted many tiny ducklings and suddenly they all seem to be more visible and growing fast.

I managed to pass under the railway bridge without being spooked by the noise of a train overhead.

Back in the familiar local patch, it has all become noticeably leafier and more verdant in the last week or two and the bluebells here, among the first to reveal themselves, have all long since faded. I wonder how long it will be before the rowers get back on the river? It's quiet without the gentle splashing of their oars up and down this stretch.

Floating or beached?

I've shown this little fella before. He's the first (or last, depending on which way you're walking) of the quirky cast-iron sculptures on the Aire Sculpture Trail. They are based on designs by children from the local Wycliffe Primary School and were made by Mick Kirkby Geddes. The sculpture trail brightens up a footpath that runs along the river bank from Baildon Bridge to join the canal towpath beside the New Mill in Saltaire.

On the same walk, I passed under all the hawthorn trees along the Coach Road. At the moment they are thick with blossom and rather beautiful.

In theory, I could now be making excursions further afield, since the UK government have eased some of the lockdown restrictions. I'm biding my time though. There are still no cafés or pubs open, few public toilets or other amenities. It seems a little premature to start exploring again, when the virus in this country is barely under control. Although I'm getting bored of walking the same local routes, and I sometimes don't know whether I'm floating or beached, much like the little chap in the top picture I'm endeavouring to make the best of it and to stay safe.

Another evening stroll

I sometimes take a walk down to the park in the evening, if it's been a warm day. There are fewer people about and I am always hopeful of catching a good sunset. There were skeins of pink clouds on this occasion but sunset wasn't really a spectacular affair. We're too low down in the valley, I think, to see the best sky shows.

Reflections in the river give double the fun. Reflections in windows, in this case the windows of the New Mill, are also fun to notice.

Bingley bluebells

After I'd crossed Beckfoot Bridge (see yesterday) I walked along the River Aire and through the woods, returning through Bingley's Myrtle Park. It's a pretty walk and there were few people around so it made a change from the busier routes around Saltaire. The tree canopy is higher and rather more sparse than in my local Hirst Woods and, in consequence, the bluebells were a little more advanced, though still not at their peak. (This was a week or so ago.) It was all so pretty; it's definitely my favourite time of year and seeing nature so benign and abundant is a good antidote to the grim pandemic world we're living in.

There was hardly a breath of wind and the reflections in the river were wonderful. The shot below is taken from Cottingley Bridge, where Bradford Road crosses the Aire just south of Bingley.

Fish ladder

I mentioned in a post recently that they were planning to construct a fish ladder on the weir beside Salts Mill. It is one part of a larger scheme up and down the River Aire to take advantage of the improving water quality and to allow salmon to return to the upper reaches of the river. As I walked through Roberts Park I noticed diggers at work, and I guess they have started to construct it. It's a good time to be doing it as the water level is as low as I've seen it. We've had several weeks without significant rainfall and the river responds quite quickly to the changing conditions. It's odd that I noticed the sound of the river is different as it slaps down over the huge slabs that form the weir. Usually it sounds more like a rushing waterfall but at the moment it almost sounds like a machine, duller and heavier.

It all reminded me of that old joke that 'a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle'. Well, they may not need bicycles but they apparently need ladders. To paraphrase another joke, 'How many men does it take to build a fish ladder?' It looks like the answer is at least six: one to operate the digger and five to watch him.

A six mile pick-me-up

I usually walk three miles or so in my local 'lockdown' exercise strolls. Sometimes that doesn't feel enough, either because the weather is so nice or my mood is so sombre or I just feel cooped up, so occasionally I will set off for a longer ramble. All three of the reasons applied the other day - and, despite the weather being so lovely, it took me at least half of the distance to start to feel lighter and more at peace with the world. I find the restrictions are having a kind of numbing effect; I'm not depressed but I feel rather muted.

My route took me east along the canal to Buck Wood and then off down a track that crosses the River Aire via a footbridge, towards Baildon. The route back is along the river bank for much of the way. It passes through a little nature reserve, where a pond has been constructed. It was a peaceful place to linger a while, watching the birds. They know no restrictions, busily getting on with nesting and courting.

There is plenty of blossom everywhere, so very pretty. Look how the sepals on these flowers (below) are pink, peeling back from the white petals. Each individual bloom reminded me of a dancer.

By the time I got home I found I'd walked about six miles, and I did feel better for it.

Nature notes 12 April

A few days of warm sunshine have seen nature ramping up for spring. The geese in Roberts Park have free rein over the grass now there are fewer people sitting around in the sunshine.

In Hirst Woods, the early adopters among the trees - principally the birches, sycamores and hawthorn - have unfurled fresh green leaves. The bigger trees like oak, beech and chestnut are slower to react. The beech leaves are all still tightly coiled like little bronze daggers on the twigs. 

Wood anemone and lesser celandine lift their sweet faces to the sun.

On the south-facing slopes by the river, early bluebells are in flower. Those in the shadier woodland are still a few weeks away from their peak; they have plenty of leaves but few flowers as yet.

The sunshine has made dandelions spring up everywhere, their bright yellow discs looking fresh and clean. They have a bad press for some reason, but unless they happen to be rooted in your pristine lawn, I think they're very cheerful.

And finally, I have heard that the lockdown is having a beneficial effect on pollution and wildlife. Even so, I didn't expect to spot a crocodile in the River Aire... !