Empty and hollow landscape
06th December 2016
6th Dec 16
Empty and hollow landscapes
If the conditions didn't make it clear enough then the Met office, as of the 1st December, announced it was 'officially' winter. This means it is the time of year where the sun makes a reluctant appearance above the horizon and, after what is too short a time, slips all too enthusiastically back to its hiding hole below 'our' edge of the earth.
There is an increasing and pervading sense that everything has stopped. The landscape is quiet, not only from the sounds of wildlife, but also from the discordant din of humans. It feels as if the landscape has emptied.
This feeling was further emphasised during a recent trip into the Yorkshire Dales. These rugged, steep sided valleys are fully held in the grip of winter, whilst the valleys, roads and hillsides are devoid of any obvious movement. The little life there is is encountered rarely and where it's is met, it is because the animal is desperately searching for food.
On this trip I came upon an occasional Robin protecting his hawthorn bush. A shrub that held a treasure as it was laden with ripe, scarlet berries. Then of course there was the ubiquitous 'statuesque' sheep, that pepper every hill. However, their movements were limited as they made selective searches for energy rich grasses (the few blades that had made the most of the limited sunlight).
Other than these few symbols of life, the world holds a deep emptiness. All is profoundly still.
At this time of year these wild landscapes reveal the true character of the season. Peering over the deep, almost secret valley of Dentdale, I see snow capped Fells and frozen pools, nestled under dark, cold buttresses. It seems I am looking into the very heart of winter and there is an intense stillness and solitude touches the soul.
I ascended the steep slopes of Gragareth, where nothing can be seen to move in the valley, except the chimney smoke from farm houses. These slender wisps rise as guidepost, leading their inhabitants to a warm and homely welcome.
Walking across the lonely and lofty ridges, I meet no one and I know how unlikely this will be at this time of year. The days are too short, the local folk are tucked away in their abodes or working in barns. Every now and then they will quickly pop out to check on their beasts, add feed, but then hurry back to the warmth of a shed, house or barn. It is too cold and winter wants their heat.
All is still, and cold and all too soon the light is fading again. It is getting colder.
On my excursions across these hills (which over several days also included Whernside, Gragareth and Barbon) I meet not one person. However, after a day traversing the lofty ridge that separates Barbondale and the Lune Valley I come upon a small group of potholers. Their day, like mine has been dark, but theirs filled with the noise of their fellow adventurers, the crashing of falling water, the echo of footsteps around hollow rock walls. It then occurred to me, during these cold and dark days, this particular empty and hollow landscape had more people below ground than above.
As the end of a year nears, it seems Winter turns the world upside down. What is usually up is now down.........Perhaps winter is just the reset button.
Empty and hollow landscapes
If the conditions didn't make it clear enough then the Met office, as of the 1st December, announced it was 'officially' winter. This means it is the time of year where the sun makes a reluctant appearance above the horizon and, after what is too short a time, slips all too enthusiastically back to its hiding hole below 'our' edge of the earth.
There is an increasing and pervading sense that everything has stopped. The landscape is quiet, not only from the sounds of wildlife, but also from the discordant din of humans. It feels as if the landscape has emptied.
This feeling was further emphasised during a recent trip into the Yorkshire Dales. These rugged, steep sided valleys are fully held in the grip of winter, whilst the valleys, roads and hillsides are devoid of any obvious movement. The little life there is is encountered rarely and where it's is met, it is because the animal is desperately searching for food.
On this trip I came upon an occasional Robin protecting his hawthorn bush. A shrub that held a treasure as it was laden with ripe, scarlet berries. Then of course there was the ubiquitous 'statuesque' sheep, that pepper every hill. However, their movements were limited as they made selective searches for energy rich grasses (the few blades that had made the most of the limited sunlight).
Other than these few symbols of life, the world holds a deep emptiness. All is profoundly still.
At this time of year these wild landscapes reveal the true character of the season. Peering over the deep, almost secret valley of Dentdale, I see snow capped Fells and frozen pools, nestled under dark, cold buttresses. It seems I am looking into the very heart of winter and there is an intense stillness and solitude touches the soul.
I ascended the steep slopes of Gragareth, where nothing can be seen to move in the valley, except the chimney smoke from farm houses. These slender wisps rise as guidepost, leading their inhabitants to a warm and homely welcome.
Walking across the lonely and lofty ridges, I meet no one and I know how unlikely this will be at this time of year. The days are too short, the local folk are tucked away in their abodes or working in barns. Every now and then they will quickly pop out to check on their beasts, add feed, but then hurry back to the warmth of a shed, house or barn. It is too cold and winter wants their heat.
All is still, and cold and all too soon the light is fading again. It is getting colder.
On my excursions across these hills (which over several days also included Whernside, Gragareth and Barbon) I meet not one person. However, after a day traversing the lofty ridge that separates Barbondale and the Lune Valley I come upon a small group of potholers. Their day, like mine has been dark, but theirs filled with the noise of their fellow adventurers, the crashing of falling water, the echo of footsteps around hollow rock walls. It then occurred to me, during these cold and dark days, this particular empty and hollow landscape had more people below ground than above.
As the end of a year nears, it seems Winter turns the world upside down. What is usually up is now down.........Perhaps winter is just the reset button.