Recently, a well-meaning national park worker posted a photo of The Howgills. Got ten times the usual "likes" but also caused a PILE-ON due to the overgrazed, bare land it showed. No point repeating it.

Instead, I bought a book and went for a look.

a THREAD: LOVELY / DESOLATE ?

Alfred Wainwright understated most things in his guides. How hard these walks can be. How beautiful they can be. But he leaves plenty of clues.
Like his amazement at seeing a single tree here.

As he wrote "even God has been driven out"
Alfred found loveliness & desolation here.

Just after his visit, a film was made: "The Dale That Died". You can watch it for free here thanks to @BFIPlayer

(Watch the first 3 & last 3 mins if you're in a terrible rush). https://player.bfi.org.uk/free/film/watch-dale-that-died-1975-online

I decided to go and see what had happened since then. The year I was born. How things looked now.
Stopped enroute 'downtown'.
Petrol priced in shillings.
A chapel with an odd warning, to see indoors...

(The wildlife had already warned me)

I was glad to see the harvest festival was coming. That Preacher John would still be collecting food for the nearby town. Nobody "died" here. The stones said "called home".

I wasn't in the back of beyond yet. Miles later, a lonely farm I thought could have been Joe Gibson's.

There's very few landmarks, so they're named well.
Double Hole Bridge.

I looked away from a chaotic-looking, hard working farm. Passed by, looking for Alfred's "lovely" valley.

Cursed a farmer for this stile & path.
And a crappy joke of a fence that was throttling their sheep.

Set it free.

Maybe because of this, four red squirrels turned up by the last house in the valley. It was the quietest sound I've heard.

The only person I saw, was clearly worried about my binoculars. Fired up a brushcutter that deafened the next mile, right up to this C17th Quaker ground...

I lent in and heard a light footstep? on the rotten floorboards upstairs!

Then some deceptively faint screeching.
A family of owls. Heard, but not seen.
Their pellets on the windowsill. Thought about the photographer who lost an eye to an owl and moved on.

Each farm left a tree

The end of loveliness.

Alfred's gate had gone. So I built a stile. Nearly missed the limekiln, one of the route's only landmarks. A stream or drain had run dry.

Here comes what I'd been waiting for...just as I began to climb. A blur, hiding the desolation I'd been promised.

Caterpillar tracks. Towards fox moth.

Climate changing, eroding peat hags as tall as me, both in much need of restoration.

The sun tried its best but gave up and went home (after just two minutes). But I found what I'd been looking for.

"Working cairns, not amenity cairns" AW

The largest was built like a high-backed chair, faced away from the wind. Time for a proper sit down.

I'd forgotten I was on this chapter @kathrynaalto

Sat reading in fog, sudden clapping made me look up. A kestrel had just tried to land on the chair & me.

Surprise all round.

I think the cairns are to point shepherds towards the old farms. I followed one towards the long-gone wall, now just a fence to trace down.

Over this fence, birds get shot & heather gets burnt. The medicinal grit is to help them live long enough to be killed.

Look! A tree.

The viaduct reminded me of the chapel in the film earlier. And the "Yorkshire Firebrand".
Built at the time of the railways, but shut that day.

The station waiting room had a set of Encyclopaedia Britannica. Reminded me of Joe's books.
And Rachel Carson changing the world.

PS it wasn't all desolation. But there'd been plenty of it.

So I'll leave you with the tale of Ruswarp.

These historic trains still run partly due to Graham.

Ruswarp wouldn't leave his side, when Graham was finally "called home" by a Welsh mountain stream.

Lovely Consolation.