Conistone, Yorkshire Dales, Summer
Time for somewhere new.
Time for somewhere new.
The weekend was looking massively busy in Cumbria, what with the Appleby Horse Fair, Dave Day, and the Great North Swim, amongst other things. So with a cool and windy Saturday in stall, we head east once again into the Yorkshire Dales to explore somewhere new, to us: Conistone.
Conistone is a tiny idyllic village in Upper Wharfedale, across the valley from Kilnsey and its famous Kilnsey Crag. Although we’ve meandered around Grassington and Kilnsey before, we’d never ventured around the Conistone area of Upper Wharfedale. What we found were two incredible and fascinating geological wonders: Conistone Dib—a dry and steep gorge—and the Conistone Pie, an isolated limestone crag outcrop that, yes, resembles a pie.
Due to the high winds, conditions and light were changeable, which made shooting all the more challenging and fun.
And some of the views we got from around the pie were just… something else.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Sony 24-240mm F3.5-6.3 OSS zoom and Rokinon 14mm f2.8 ED AS IF UMC prime lenses. RAWs were developed in Lightroom, edited in Photomatix, and finalised in Photoshop.
Conistone, Yorkshire Dales, Summer by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
The centre of Conistone village, looking impossibly idyllic. A few homes here had datestones from the mid-17th century.
Heading immediately east out of the village, a footpath can be picked up that takes you up the first part of Conistone Dib, known as Gurling Trough. Delicate flowers pepper the grasses around the trail. Our excitement builds.
Thousands of years after retreating glaciers and meltwaters have finished their work, life clings on in this gorge in beautiful ways.
The gorge winds its way uphill, in increasingly tight channels. Now we’re in summer, foliage and wildflowers adorn every possible nook and cranny. Up ahead, Lisabet gawps at the stunning walls of the gorge.
The only way up and out of the gorge, a tiny person-wide chute, evidence of where prehistoric water would’ve raged through this gorge.
Looking back down the chute, I picture in my mind how gallons of water would’ve created enormous forces as it was squeezed through this tiny gap.
After popping out from the squeeze at Gurling Trough, you are presented with this glorious view of the dry valley of Conistone Dib. To the right is the imposing crag of Bull Scar.
Further up the valley our next squeeze presents itself. A characteristic drystone wall acts as a leading line all the way towards the next gorge.
Halfway up the dry gorge of Conistone Dib. An old drystone wall leads the way up, as does the ankle-breaking loose limestone scree.
Near the top, Lisabet stops to photo some flora that her eagle-eye spotted. Two trees act as a kind of “gateway”, marking and maybe even guarding the exit.
We scramble our way up and out of the gorge, but not before I turn back around and nab this composition from behind one of the “guardians”, using them to frame the gorge back downstream.
From the top of the Dib, looking perilously down to the gate and the dry gorge below that we scrambled up.
From above the Dib, multiple trails criss-cross each other towards a multitude of destinations. We took a small diversion around the top of the gorge, and found this stunning composition of Conistone Dib gorge, with the Upper Wharfedale fells beyond.
Our next destination was to find the Conistone Pie. From the Dib, it didn’t take long to locate and follow the path northeast. We soon clambered towards the Pie, and I immediately scouted around its circumference, snapping compositions of its wonderful limestone crags with views towards the far reaches of Upper Wharfedale.
The views from the top of Conistone Pie! Not bad, eh?
My 24-240 mm zoom lens allowed me to really zoom in tight and crop in on these more intimate landscapes my eye can spot.
Another long zoom composition, showing the characteristic upland fell farming landscape of the Yorkshire Dales; land parcelled off with drystone walls. I waited as slivers of golden light scanned across the landscape, and picked my moment when the foreground barn was illuminated.
From the top of the Pie you can even make out, across the valley, the impressive sheer face of Kilnsey Crag, a famous and challenging climb.
At the full 240 mm zoom, I pick out the farthest reaches of Upper Wharfedale as golden evening light scans across the dale.
Before descending back down towards the village, I sought a composition that “described” the Conistone Pie well. This was the best I could do. You can see why it’s called a pie!
From the pie we retraced our steps towards the top of Conistone Dib and located the main path, called Scot Gate Lane, which takes you all the way back down to the village. Along the way, lambs and their mums bleat and scamper away from us, but not before I was able to zoom in and capture this timeless scene.
Nearing the bottom of Scot Gate Lane, an unusual yet welcome and unfortunately rare cacophony of sounds surrounded us: Curlews! I had never heard so many. As they cried and whistled around us, the low evening low picked out this incredible scene of Conistone Dib and the valley floor of Upper Wharfedale.
Back at the village, the evening light drenches the old buildings in soft amber.
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Oxenber & Wharfe Woods, Yorkshire Dales, Spring
It’s been nearly a month since my last post.
It’s been nearly a month since my last post.
I must apologise for that. Times, they are a’ changin’.
To start, we moved house! That in itself has consumed most of my time and energy, as house moves usually do. Thankfully we’re now all settled in and getting down to the important things in life, like looking at curtain textiles and measuring all the things.
With things settling back down a little, and the British weather drastically improving, we thought we’d try to capture the last of this year’s bluebells. Over the years we’ve found some proper lovely places to photograph bluebells, such as:
This time we tried somewhere new, to us, based on personal recommendation: the woods of Oxenber and Wharfe near Feizor.
And we were absolutely blown away.
Carpets of bluebells, some in ancient woodland, some out in the open with spectacular views to the likes of Moughton Scar and Ingleborough.
Happily, this was also my first full outing with my newly acquired Sony 24-240mm F3.5-6.3 OSS, courtesy of my Dad. This lens easily replaced five other lenses I had, which has significantly reduced my carrying load.
I hope you enjoy these photos as much as I enjoyed taking and editing them.
All photos shot on my Sony α7ii using my Sony 24-240mm F3.5-6.3 OSS zoom lens. RAWS edited in Lightroom, edited in RNI Films, and finalised in Photoshop.
Oxenber & Wharfe Woods, Yorkshire Dales, Spring by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
Our hike started from Austwick and we were soon on the easy well-defined trail towards the elevated Oxenber and Wharfe woods.
A beautiful Holstein Friesian lady, basking in the glorious sunshine.
We followed Wood Lane as the trail started to ascend. Looking back across the segmented fields towards Robin Proctor’s Scar and the Norber Erratics.
The signage was clear enough as to where we needed to go.
Soon enough we began the short and sharp ascent off Wood Lane and into Oxenber Wood. Bluebells everywhere.
This area of woodland and pasture was once an important quarry and source of timber for Austwick. Now it’s marked as an SSSI and largely left to its own devices.
Open areas of former pasture meant acres of bluebells, out in the open, enjoying views towards the likes of Moughton Scar and Ingleborough.
A carpet of bluebells with Moughton Scar on the left and Bargh Hill on the right.
Higher up, more former pasture land has given way to more bluebells. I found this solitary limestone boulder covered in moss that made for a lovely composition.
In addition to all the bluebells were tracts of limestone pavement, much to my delight!
Entering the denser woodland of Wharfe wood, a small trail branched off, giving views towards Moughton Scar.
Wharfe wood’s thicker coverage meant for beautiful soft light and trees covered in moss and lichen.
A small trail heads deeper into Wharfe Wood, with a hint of yet more bluebells beyond. Our route was to exit out of the eastern end of the woodland, but not before I chanced upon this mystical scene.
Popping out of Wharfe Wood, the unmistakable shape of Pen-y-ghent quickly makes itself known to us.
The route now followed the Pennine Bridleway towards Feizor. To the left are the shoulders of the limestone hills above Feizor.
This year’s spring lambs, of the Swaledale kind, quickly scampered to their mums.
On our descent to Feizor I spotted this little cottage and its field covered in buttercups.
The rest of the route back to Austwick was simple enough, just follow the Pennine Bridleway from Feizor to Austwick. This ancient country lane was lined with wild garlic (Allium ursinum) and its delicious smell.
The collapsed ruins of Meldings Barn, with a doorway still standing on its own.
Back at Austwick, the local cows gently made their way to Austwick Beck for a cool down and a drink to relieve from the warm spring day.
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Feizor, Yorkshire Dales, Spring
I don’t explore the Yorkshire Dales enough.
I don’t explore the Yorkshire Dales enough.
After finally getting over my post-Skye mourning and depression period, it seemed like spring finally arrived in Northern England.
Aware of how busy the Lake District would be, we instead ventured east to the Yorkshire Dales. We quickly realised that we hadn’t explored the Feizor area of the Dales in a long time, like maybe 7-years or so. Time to fix that.
Feizor (pronounced “FAY-zer”) is a tiny l’al hamlet between Austwick and Settle, and easy to miss. Home to a few houses, a farm, and the famous Elaine’s Tearoom, rising high above the hamlet are the limestone fells of Pott Scar and Smearsett Scar. These were the focus of the day’s hike and exploration.
Pott Scar and Smearsett Scar were beautiful examples of limestone karst landscapes, but they also offered immense views to either the back of Ingleborough or the shapely Pen-y-ghent.
A super day.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Sony FE 28–70mm f3.5–5.6 OSS and Vivitar “Series 1” 70–210mm f2.8–4.0 zoom lenses. RAWs developed in Lightroom, then tweaked and finalised in Photoshop.
Feizor, Yorkshire Dales, Spring by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
A near-timeless scene in the heart of Feizor. Old stone buildings, dry stone walls, foliage everywhere, and the fells rising up behind.
This quaint scene, complete with old water pump, was something I couldn’t resist making a composition of.
Round the back of Pott Scar, before ascending, one can enjoy expansive views towards Pen-y-ghent, one of the Three Peaks of the Yorkshire Dales.
The squelchy slog up the fell was rewarded with beautiful views from Pott Scar towards Smearsett Scar.
Fin-like clints and grikes of limestone made for a nice leading line towards Smearsett Scar.
Nearer the edge of Pott Scar, I focus stacked these bare limestone edges as they curved off into the distance towards Smearsett Scar.
From the summit of Smearsett Scar, the full extent and shape of Pott Scar is revealed. The day was brightening up too, albeit with a haze.
The summit of Smearsett Scar offers a bounty of limestone clints and grikes that I want to make compositions of.
Another variation from the summit of Smearsett Scar, using the exposed clints and grikes as a leading line towards Pott Scar.
Back down the back of Pott Scar, drafting clouds cast dancing shadows across Moughton Scar and the back of mighty Ingleborough, another one of the Three Peaks of the Yorkshire Dales.
Plenty of teeny Swaledale lambs about, hastily retreating back to their mums as we followed the track back to Feizor.
The single road that winds its way through Feizor.
A super-zoomed in composition of the back of Ingleborough, taken from the small lane between Feizor and Buck Haw Brow, light dancing across the karst features of the land.
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Dovedale, Peak District, Autumn
From the Dark Peak to the White.
From the Dark Peak to the White.
In my last post, I talked about how the Peak District can be broadly split into two areas: the Dark Peak and White Peak. They reflect the predominant underlying geology: gritstone for the Dark Peak, and limestone for the White Peak.
After exploring the Dark Peak’s Froggatt and Curbar Edges, it was time to navigate the deep valley of Dovedale in the White Peak.
Dovedale is a particularly famous area in the Peak District—and the UK in general—seeing around 1 million tourists a year. It features stepping stones, rocky spires, craggy hills, and caves.
We elected to hike the full route, south to north, from the main car park to Milldale and back. In my view, Dovedale exceeded spectations.
All photos shot on my Sony α7ii using my Sony FE 28–70mm f3.5–5.6 OSS zoom and Rokinon 14mm f2.8 ED AS IF UMC prime lenses. RAWs were developed and edited in Lightroom for iPad, and finalised with the help of Darkroom for iPad.
Dovedale, Peak District, Autumn by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
Upon entering the valley, it became immediately apparent how steep and craggy the valley sides were.
Arguably Dovedale’s most recognisable landmark, the stepping stones. Used to cross the River Dove and continue up the valley. This photo was unfortunately timed. I waited for this composition, looking for someone to cross the river to provide context for the photo. Instead, I managed to snap the moment just before this poor gentleman fell into the river. He wasn’t hurt, thankfully, and was quickly helped out.
Further into Dovedale and glorious autumn colours revealed their hues in the woods of the valley.
The first tastes of what was to come. This limestone spire is part of the Tissington Spires that line the eastern side of the valley past Lover’s Leap.
We paid particular attention to finding this spot, and were not disappointed. Beyond Tissington Spires an inconspicuous trail branches off the main valley footpath. It climbs up the steep valley side, revealing this monumental scene: a limestone archway, beyond which is Reynard’s Cave. A stupendous scene.
Beyond Raynard’s Cave, Dovedale narrows and deepens further into an area known as the Straits. Passage is possible only via a raised boarded trail. Once off the boards, we noticed a small cave with a clear and tempting stream trickling out of it.
The most accessible, and driest, caves in Dovedale are the Dove Holes, pictured here high above the trail.
Another solitary limestone spire pierces the sky above the woods.
The Dove Holes caves. They were formed during the last two ice ages by glacial water erosion. The caves became dry as the meltwater and river cut deeper into the gorge.
I got closer to the caves with my ultra-wide angle lens attached. It’s easy to imagine various ancient peoples and cultures have used these caves as shelter and storage.
The other, bigger, cave of Dove Holes, separated by a spire.
At Milldale, we paused for lunch and took the opportunity to wander around this bonny little village.
Milldale probably got its name from the corn mill that once stood on the River Dove here. Nowadays, it’s a sleepy little village with old stone cottages. Proper lovely.
After lunch it was time to take the return trip back down south the valley. This scene very much put me in mind of something like Yosemite.
One of the more famous spires in Dovedale can be seen on the right: Ilam Rock. Facing it is Pickering Tor. Ilam Rock rises 80 ft high from the valley floor, and is an impressive sight from any angle.
Near the Tissington Spires, Jacob’s Ladder rises above the woodland and catches the late afternoon light.
From below, the Tissington Spires are an imposing sight. Here they catch the golden afternoon light as the valley floor recedes into cold shadow.
Nearing the stepping stones once again, Dovedale’s most famous peak—Thorpe Cloud—comes into view. Here I took two exposures: one with my thumb covering the sun and one unobstructed. Blocking the sun with my thumb allowed me to blend the exposures with minimal lens flare.
Thorpe Cloud is an impressive pyramidal peak from across the River Dove.
One final look back into Dovedale before exiting for the day. An absolutely spectacular place.
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Winnats Pass & Mam Tor, Peak District, Autumn
Time to revisit more familiar areas.
Time to revisit more familiar areas.
Last time we attempted to explore Winnats Pass and Mam Tor was way back in May 2015. Back then I was considerably heavier and unfit. Since then I’ve lost a lot of weight and gained fitness. It would be interesting to see how I would fare tackling these locations compared to last time.
Our day started in bonny Castleton, heading west to the foot of Winnats Pass and hiking up the pass alongside the road, a 20% gradient uphill. After reaching the top, we would then continue up the moorland to locate the Mam Tor trail. Then it’s simple enough to follow the path to the summit, along the Great Ridge and then down the valley to Castleton.
Though the tops were windier than in the past few days, it was still unreasonably hot for an October day, pushing 21ºC. In any case, the light was compliant and the views were astounding.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Sony FE 28–70mm f3.5–5.6 OSS zoom lens. RAWs were developed in Lightroom for iPad, finalised in Darkroom for iPad.
Winnats Pass & Mam Tor, Peak District, Autumn by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
The impressive limestone crags above Winnats Pass dominate the skyline as you make your way up.
Looking back down Winnats Pass from roughly halfway up, the sun starting to rise above the gorge walls.
We found an isolated crag that gave us a solid composition looking down the pass. The name “Winnats” is a corruption over time of the original name “Wind Gates” Pass, due to the howling winds that funnel through the gorge.
From the top of the pass, it was easy enough to head up the moorland and locate the Mam Tor trail. Even just climbing up the trail a little bit, the views back down to Rushup Edge are already superb.
Around the shoulder of Mam Tor, the views towards Edale and Kinder Scout above are stunning. Aided, in part, by the winding road as a lovely leading line.
On the way up Mam Tor, the view back towards Winnats Pass reveals the dramatic drop of the gorge. It was once believed to be a giant collapsed cave, but evidence suggests it formed around an underwater canyon. Over time, other rocks covered this area. Much later, erosion revealed the pass we see today, shaped by melting water finding weak points in the rock.
As we climb higher, I find a sheep on the shoulder of Mam Tor, seemingly enjoying the views towards Edale.
Beyond the summit of Mam Tor, at 517 m / 1,696 ft above sea level, our next goal was clear in front of us: Hollin’s Cross and Back Tor along the Great Ridge.
Near Hollin’s Cross, fellow hikers rest and take the time to enjoy the extensive panoramic views across Edale.
Looking back along the ridge from Hollin’s Cross reveals profile of Mam Tor. The hill is also known as Shivering Hill, as its southeastern face near-constantly sheds rocks and causes landslips. In fact a long-established road underneath this side of Mam Tor, the A625, was abandoned in 1979 due to the constant need to repair the road after landslides.
Beyond Hollin’s Cross, our next destination was unmistakeable: the hulking crag of Back Tor.
Back Tor has similar geology to Mam Tor, and as such what you see is the result of a large shale landslip that falls dramatically down to the valley floor of Edale.
After falling on my arse a few times navigating the muddy trail down from the Great Ridge (and getting punctured by gorse on both occasions), I’m relieved to finally locate a paved country lane. Happily, it was also a nice composition to record.
From almost everywhere in Castleton, the towering crags of Winnats Pass are never far away.
Friends enjoy a pint outside the Bulls Head, whilst Mam Tor’s southeastern face rises clearly in the distance.
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Kingsdale, Yorkshire Dales, Autumn
Flexibility can lead to great things.
Flexibility can lead to great things.
We started a promising Saturday morning with a plan to hike up the highest peak in the Yorkshire Dales: Whernside (736 m/2,415 ft).
It would definitely be the highest peak we’ve ever ascended but we were planning to “cheat” a little bit. Below Whernside’s western flank is a valley called Kingsdale. There’s a road that runs from the south, near Ingleton, through and over Kingsdale before dropping back down into Dentdale. This road enjoys a few large passing places, one of which is near the summit of the road at 468 m a.s.l. In theory, we could park at the passing place and hike the minor trail up Whernside’s western flank to reach the summit, with only 300 m of actual ascent needed.
We didn’t go for it in the end. Parking in passing places is generally a no-no, and the trail and landscape around Whernside’s western flank looked rather boggy.
Instead, we drove back down to the valley bottom of Kingsdale and stopped at an actual parking place. Here we elected for a hike up Kingsdale’s magnificent limestone fellside to locate the magnificent Cheese Press Stones.
It turned out to be a great idea on a beautiful day.
All photos shot on my Sony α7ii using my Sony FE 28–70mm f3.5–5.6 OSS zoom lens. RAWs developed in Lightroom using RNI Films’ Kodachrome film profiles, finalised in Photoshop.
Kingsdale, Yorkshire Dales, Autumn by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
Straight away from our little parking bay, the views across to Twistleton Scar and Ingleborough were magnificent. They were only going to get better.
The road north through Kingsdale, with the valley’s fantastic scar looming directly above. The main scar above the road is known as Keld Head Scar. The start of the hike heads up the fellside just as the road veers right.
Part way up Keld Head Scar, and a single tree growing out of a limestone boulder provides a nice subject with Whernside in the distance.
As we clamber through the irregular clints and grikes of limestone, and navigate the occasional boulder, Ingleborough emerges from above Twistleton Scar. An old drystone sheep pen provides a nice foreground subject contrast against the fell in the distance.
A large cluster of limestone boulders, no doubt dumped in position by the last Ice Age, provide a nice foreground focal point. They also, happily, seem to “point” towards Ingleborough.
Finally, after a fairly challenging hike and scramble through Keld Head Scar, we emerged onto a limestone plateau where we easily spotted the Cheese Press Stones. These are a pair of giant limestone boulders, probably deposited here after the last Ice Age. Why are they called the “Cheese Press Stones”? No idea.
The boulder on the left is a good 9–10 ft tall. Some estimate its weight at around 15 tons. Here, an obvious composition is hard to ignore, using the two boulders to centre and frame Ingleborough.
A few yards away, I spot another interesting limestone boulder, which appears to me almost like a cracked open egg.
Further up the plateau, a group of large limestone boulders attract my attention. I line a composition, attempting to fill the frame with them whilst keeping Whernside visible in the distance.
I circle around the cluster of boulders to find a composition featured Ingleborough. It means shooting directly into the sun, but thankfully Sony RAW files are incredible flexible.
I locate Lisabet near North End Scar, perched atop a small crag, happily editing her photos. In the distance, the Forest of Bowland is just about visible.
The way back involves navigating this ankle-breaking limestone pavement to relocate the minor trail, which takes you below North End Scar, past Tow Scar, and back down to the road.
Beneath North End Scar’s western edge, the layering and striations of the limestone is fascinating.
I am a sucker for a good drystone wall composition.
The criss-crossing and weaving of the valley and its various limestone scars and layers provide me a delightful photo with Whernside high in the distance.
Nearly back at the car, with the limestone scar of Kingsdale’s western edge in full display. A beautifully sculpted glacial valley.