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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Sedbergh, Yorkshire Dales, Summer
It’s summer! Y’know what that means? Wild flower meadows.
It’s summer! Y’know what that means? Wild flower meadows.
We’re rather fortunate to live where we do, sandwiched between abundant nature. You can take your pick of beautiful places to see wildflower summer meadows. A particular favourite is Swaledale in the Yorkshire Dales.
But I can also recommend the Sedbergh meadows underneath the Howgills.
We usually start this hike from Sedbergh town itself, but this time we started from Straight Bridge, walking away rather than into the sun.
Sedbergh is pretty enough anyway, but in the summer it becomes positively idyllic. And the meadows around the town were filled with wildflowers.
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 developed in Lightroom, edited in Photomatix and Photoshop.
Sedbergh, Yorkshire Dales, Summer by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
Following the path alongside the River Rawthey, a beautiful field full of buttercups stopped us in our tracks.
So did these mushrooms. These are possibly Dryad’s Saddle, or Cerioporus squamosus.
A Kendal Rough Fell yow enjoying the summer sun in the meadows.
A pair of geese, following each other around the fields.
New Bridge, which is quite a funny name given that it was built in the 1700s. A lush scene framing this gorgeous structure.
There’s plenty of horses about at the moment as travellers make their way to the Appleby Horse Fair. One particularly shaggy fella posed for me in a field full of flowers, and I couldn’t say no.
After a brief pit stop and refreshment in Sedbergh town, we continued the hike. The trail circumnavigates Castlehaw and climbs up the hillside underneath the Howgills. A very dry Settlebeck Gill provides a leading line in between these gnarly old trees.
Out into the open, fields full of flowers surrounded us. Passing clouds temporarily darkened the summit of Knott, whilst sheep and their lambs happily graze on the meadows below.
Further along the trail, a field of curious bullocks idly stare at us as we made our way towards Ghyll Farm.
Just before you reach Ghyll Farm the trail narrows into a beautiful little lane, surrounded by hedgerows and old trees. It created a natural frame that I made a composition of.
Beyond Ghyll Farm, you continue southeast towards Stone Hall, a Grade II* listed building. Formerly a farmhouse, it dates from 1695.
Between Stone Hall and Ellerthwaite, the wildflower meadows just got better and better. One particular field was absolutely chock full of them. I nabbed a shot of Lisabet admiring the buttercup fields, a timeless scene.
We spotted this old tree, host to a load of bracket fungi, so I equipped my ultra-wide lens in order to make a composition of the tree, the fungi, the buttercup meadow and the Howgills. Success!
The cloud cover was beginning to thicken, but pockets of sun still broke through. A distant scene looking south towards the Dent fells made me zoom right in.
At Ellerthwaite we came across this magnificent field full of buttercups. I spotted these tracks winding through the field and waited for the sun to burst through, illuminating the field whilst the distant hills darkened under the clouds.
Beyond Buckbank the trail follows the trees above the River Rawthey back to Straight Bridge. Another beautiful meadow lined with farm tracks, with Lisabet ahead, gave me my final composition.
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The Quiraing, Isle of Skye, Scotland, Spring
It’s so hard to ignore the Quiraing when you’re on Skye.
It’s so hard to ignore the Quiraing when you’re on Skye.
Comprising the northernmost aspect of the Trotternish peninsula landslip, the Quiraing is a true marvel. It features sheer cliffs 150 m tall, emotive and otherworldly geological formations such as the Prison, the Needle, and Table, as well as individual peaks formed from ancient landslips such as Cleat and Bioda Buidhe.
We approached the Quiraing from two separate sides. On one day we took the short and steep route into the Quiraing via Flodigarry, the eastern side. On another day we returned and hiked the more conventional tourist route. Both offer equally astounding scenes.
One day, we’ll be able to walk the entire Quiraing, in all its treacherously steep glory.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Rokinon 14mm f2.8 ED AS IF UMC and Pentax SMC 28mm F3.5 prime lenses. RAWs developed in Lightroom, then edited and finalised in Photoshop.
The Quiraing, Isle of Skye, Scotland, Spring by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
The Quiraing from Flodigarry
At Flodigarry you can find a small car park, fit for 5 or so cars. From here it’s a simple walk to the first loch you’ll come across, Loch Langaig. Above the loch are the block-shaped crags known as Fingal’s Pinnacles, which includes Leac nan Fionn, or “Fingal’s tomb”.
Beyond Loch Langaig, the trail starts to quickly ramp up and you soon arrive directly beneath the impressive Fingal’s pinnacles. Below the pinnacles is Loch Hasco, which I cautiously clambered down to for this breathtaking composition.
We returned to the trail as it began its steep pull towards the cliffs of Meall na Suiramach, the highest peak of the Quiraing. From the side, the Pinnacles reveal a more slender profile that I couldn’t ignore.
Above Loch Hasco and beneath the cliffs of Meall na Suiramach, we took some rest and explored more fascinating rock formations. I found this weird nubbin of rock as the sun crested above the cliffs of the Quiraing.
The conventional Quiraing route
The more “tourist-friendly” way around the Quiraing has seen a lot of infrastructure improvements over the years, including a new car park at the top and better road surfacing. There’s also a new viewing platform, giving people an easy way to get these views.
Along the trail north, chunks of the edge of the Quiraing have been cordoned off due to unstable cliffs and to protect rare flora. From one vantage point, as the sun emerged, I nabbed this composition looking straight down to the valley floor, a mountain sheep looking back at me.
One of the classic views of the Quiraing. It’s been done numerous times, of course, and often better than what I can manage. Nevertheless, I refuse to let another opportunity pass by. It’s such a wonderful scene.
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Sleat Peninsula, Isle of Skye, Scotland, Spring
Skye’s Sleat peninsula often gets overlooked.
Skye’s Sleat peninsula often gets overlooked.
It’s understandable why. When the island contains wonders such as the Cuillins, the Quiraing, the Storr, the Fairy Pools and more, why would you go to the extreme south/south-west of the island?
In my experience, Sleat is where you take photos from, not of. While the peninsula does have some lovely coastline, arguably it’s finest aspect is the views you can get from its southern and northern shores.
Looking south across the Sound of Sleat one can enjoy immense views of the Knoydart mountains, such as Ladhar Bheinn, Meall Buidhe, and Luinne Bheinn.
Over the peninsula onto its northern shores, Sleat harbours beautiful beaches and craggy coastlines, punctuated by bonny little crofting settlements, such as Tarskavaig, Tokavaig, and Ord. These places get unparalleled views across Loch Eishort towards the entire Cuillins range.
My advice: Give yourself a day to explore Sleat. You won’t regret it.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Rokinon 14mm f2.8 ED AS IF UMC and Pentax SMC 28mm F3.5 prime lenses, and my Vivitar “Series 1” 70–210mm f2.8–4.0 zoom lens. RAWs developed in Lightroom then edited and finalised in Photoshop.
Sleat Peninsula, Isle of Skye, Scotland Spring by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
Just north of Armadale there’s a stretch of coastline known as Bàgh a' Mhuilinn (“Bay of the Mill”). Here, one can play around with incredible rock formations and the Knoydart mountains in the distance.
The geology around Armadale is largely comprised of Lewisian Gneiss, which are some of the oldest rocks on Earth; roughly 3.0–1.7 billion years old! In the distance the main peak in the Knoydart is Ladhar Bheinn (“peak of the hoof”).
From near Armadale you can take the single-track winding road over the Sleat peninsula towards its northern shores. Along the way, though, magnificent views of the Cuillins reveal themselves. We stopped to nab some photos from above Loch Dhùghaill because who can say no to this?!
Arriving at Tarskavaig Bay, Lisabet and I quickly wandered off to explore and photography. I found this fascinating person-high crag on the beach, and clambered within its nooks and crannies looking for compositions. These are Lewisian Gneiss again, but have been squashed and stretched so much that they've become very fine-grained and have lots of cracks. They also have minerals like chlorite and epidote in them.
Away from the massive crag I head towards the more expansive beach, with fantastic clear views towards the Cuillins. I find another otherworldly rock formation and seek to compose along with the winding channels towards the Cuillins.
Moving on from Tarskavaig, we continue up the northern shore of Sleat to Tokavaig. At Tokavaig Bay, one can find the ruins of Dùn Scaich castle, formerly owned by Clan MacDonald of Sleat, a branch of the Clan Donald or MacDonald. With my long zoom lens, I can really compress the distant views, capturing the ruins of the castle as well as the mighty Blàbheinn mountain in the distance.
Dùn Scaich castle sits atop a crag on the Tokavaig coast, given near 360 views of its surroundings. It would’ve once been possible to enter the ruins across the arched footpath, but the floor of it has collapsed. The fortress is alternatively referred to as the "Fortress of Shadows." It is famously associated with the legend of the warrior woman Scáthach, who is said to have resided there, giving the castle its name.
Further long the coastline from the castle ruins are several sheer cliffs that offer unimpeded views across Loch Eishort to the entire Cuillins range. Here, my Lisabet stands perilously close to the edge of one cliff, providing a sense of scale.
The view you can enjoy from Tokavaig’s cliffs. The small trio of islands in the loch are called Eilean Ruairidh, translating as “Isle of the Red King”. There was once a fort here too. From this view, it’s clear to view the geological differences between the Black Cuillins, towards the left, and the Red Cuillins towards the right. The Red being smoother and made of granite, and the Black being more jagged and made of gabbro.
Further along the coastline we arrive at Ord, where one can take the minor road back over the Sleat peninsula to its southern shores. Before we did, we explored the bay here too. At Ord, you can find crags on the beach where old rocks meet some younger rocks called quartzites, and the younger rocks are found underneath the older ones, which is a bit unusual. The quartzites have some cool features, like cross-bedding (patterns in the rock) and folding (where the rock has been bent).
From Ord I once again equipped my 70-210mm zoom lens for some tighter compressed compositions. I lined up the small rocky islands just off the bay to lead towards the Strathaird coastline and Blàbheinn looming above everything.
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Sligachan, Isle of Skye, Scotland, Spring
I have returned from my fifth visit to Skye.
I have returned from my fifth visit to Skye.
God damn I love that island so much.
What definitely helps, apart from the fantastic scenery, is that for entire week of our stay the weather and light conditions were fantastic.
All in all, I returned to Cumbria with 200+ RAW files of epicness. Where does one start?
For me, with one of my favourite places on Skye: Sligachan.
Sligachan is a small settlement on Skye’s eastern coast, somewhat halfway between two of Skye’s major population centres: Portree and Broadford. There’s not much at Sligachan apart from a hotel and a couple of houses. What it does offer is some of the finest views of the Black Cuillins and Red Cuillins on Skye.
In particular, there are a number of small rivers that run from the Cuillins towards Loch Sligachan, and the underlying geology has enabled some fantastic waterfalls. You’ve just gotta be prepared for some boggy hiking.
I’ve played around these waterfalls many a time, always seeking the “one” winning photo from this area. On this occasion, I’ve come closer than ever before of capturing that special photo from this magical place.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Pentax SMC 28mm F3.5 and Rokinon 14mm f2.8 ED AS IF UMC prime lenses. RAW files developed in Lightroom, edited and finalised in Photoshop.
Sligachan, Isle of Skye, Scotland, Spring by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
On our first full day on Skye, we first enjoyed the Scorrybreac circular around Portree. Afterwards, we nipped south to visit Sligachan. Whilst Portree was relatively sunny, conditions at Sligachan were significantly different. Stormy skies and powerful freezing winds made for some awe-inspiring conditions. On this occasion this was the best image I could make on this brief visit, the Red Cuillins topped in snow with storm clouds brewing above.
Returning to Sligachan on another day presented a completely different story, with strong sun bursting through the passing, racing clouds. Our first port of call was getting under the Old Sligachan Bridge for a composition of the Black Cuillins.
Afterwards, we began the hike up alongside one of Sligachan’s many rivers, this one being the Allt Dearg Mòr (“Great Red River”). Numerous waterfalls can be found along the river, this one being one of the bigger ones. My ultra-wide 14mm lens was able to capture not only the entirety of the falls and the snow-capped Black Cuillins, but some of the Red Cuillins too.
Beyond the large waterfall, a wide series of falls presented a beautiful composition involving the Black Cuillins as the clouds sank over the mountains.
Getting closer to the falls as I dared, I faced directly towards the sun and attempted a composition of the falls with one of the Red Cuillins, Marsco (736 m/2,415 ft).
A 3-shot 28mm panorama stack from top to bottom enabled this composition of another waterfall with the snowy Black Cuillins darkening above.
Looking back down the river towards the Red Cuillins saw clearer skies. On the left, the wizard’s hat of a mountain is Glamaig (775 m/2,543 ft), catching the light on its smooth flanks. The other Red Cuillin in the distance is Beinn Dearg Mhòr (731 m/2,398 ft)
Back at the Old Bridge, a classic composition involving the bridge and Glamaig proved impossible to resist. In the late 1800s a Gurkha named Harkabir Tharpa scaled Glamaig, starting and finishing at sea level in the bar of the Sligachan Hotel, in 55 minutes. That’s nuts, especially considering most routes up the mountain involved a steep climb on loose scree.
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Hull Pot, Yorkshire Dales, Winter
A month since my last post.
A month since my last post.
I do apologise.
The weather in January has been, well, shocking to say the least. We endured three named storms: Henk, Isha, and Jocelyn. Isha, in particular, was one of the most powerful storms the British Isles have seen since 2000.
Additionally, we’ve had periods of below freezing temperatures, resulting in widespread ice.
It’s been… interesting.
Thankfully, the weekend just gone, it was nice enough for us to finally head out. We chose the Hull Pot route from Horton-in-Ribblesdale in the Yorkshire Dales. I had an inkling that there’d still be some snow liggin’ about in the Dales, contributing to a water-saturated landscape and, hopefully, a waterfall flowing into Hull Pot.
And we finally saw it.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Pentax SMC 28mm F3.5, Pentax SMC 55mm f2.0, and Rokinon 14mm f2.8 ED AS IF UMC prime lenses. RAWs developed in Lightroom, edited and finalised in Photoshop.
Hull Pot, Yorkshire Dales, Winter by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
The characteristic drystone walls of the Yorkshire Dales remained steadfast in the face of all the snow we’ve had recently, resulting in these snowdrifts piled up against them.
Our way forward. We knew on this day that there’d only be 2-3 hours of good light, and boy was it dramatic.
Looking back at where we came from. We were very much on the edge of two weather systems. Conditions over Horton-in-Ribblesdale saw blue skies and puffy clouds, but closer to Pen-y-Ghent it was blowy, dark, and stormy, giving us epic light.
A good sign: A small waterfall where there usually isn’t at Horton Scar. Above, Pen-y-Ghent fights with the dark and stormy clouds.
Further up the bridleway, the site of an extinct waterfall below Pen-y-Ghent, which is now obscured by clouds laden with snow. A burst of sun to our right picks out the details in the land.
And there she is, finally ticked off my bucket list. England’s largest natural hole, Hull Pot, with Hull Pot Beck tumbling down 60ft into the chasm. As mentioned before on this blog, Hull Pot is a large cave where the roof has collapsed, which has resulted in this massive chasm below Pen-y-Ghent. With my ultra-wide 14mm equipped, I was able to capture the entire scene.
We clambered as close to the waterfall as possible as it crashed over the edge into Hull Pot. As I had no tripod, I shot this with my ultra-wide 14mm at f/22, taking multiple exposures of the same scene. In post, I then averaged the exposures together that gave me that long exposure effect on the water.
Looking up Hull Pot Beck and its many cascades. By the normal way of things, this beck is dry as it usually disappears into the maze of caves beneath Pen-y-Ghent before it reaches Hull Pot. With all the rain and snow we’ve had, the beck was able to complete its route, crashing 60ft down into Hull Pot and re-emerging at the surface nearer Horton-in-Ribblesdale.
A different view of Hull Pot from its eastern end. Two boulders balance precariously on the lip of the pot.
At around 450 m/1,476 ft above sea level, a few snow patches have lingered around the edges of Hull Pot, allowing for some interesting compositional leading lines.
A particularly clean snow patch nearer the falls gives me an idea for a composition involving Pen-y-Ghent in the distance. Fellow hikers milling about the edge of Hull Pot give you a sense of scale of this place.
Heading back down to the village, signs were clear that the best of the day’s light were done as the storm clouds rolled in. We were thankful to get what we did, though.