Bunting flutters from the lamp-posts in the little
stations, paint trim
in red and cream. Cream flags and red dragons.
We start to talk
about dragons. Saint George of course, though I have
never
reconciled myself to his dragon slaying.
Saint
Serf too, according to legend, as well as
miracle worker was a
slayer of dragons with his pastoral staff (and a
founder of churches
in Scotland) in an area of Pictdom at the time,
presumably when
there were dragons at large. Odd thing though, born
in the Levant,
a pope in Rome for a few years, then he came to
Scotland. One can
only wonder why.
 |
| The dragon - which is really a wyvern |
The
bunting was put up to celebrate the 25th
anniversary of the
saving of the Settle to Carlisle railway line. You
can see the
Midland Railway coat of arms below
[photograph
credit – chevin]
And you can find out more about wyverns here
The Settle-Carlisle
line was marked for closure in 1989, but
popular protests succeeded in keeping
it open. The stations are
tidy, painted, well looked after,
some of them have been turned
into upmarket holiday accommodation,
and
the
one at Ribblehead
houses a small museum.
There's
a gathering of people, all holding cameras, in the field
opposite,
when we alight at Ribblehead. Apparently the first goods
train of the
year (they don't run in winter, perhaps because of the
uncertainty of
the weather) is about to leave the station, and the
keen train
enthusiasts are out ready to catch this momentous event
on film. We
did not know this, but just happen to arrive there only
a few minutes
before the goods train moves slowly out of the
siding, with its long
cargo of logs.
It
then stops, and reverses. We ask the museum attendant why.
That, she
says, camera slung round her neck, is what I'm wondering.
We
don't linger to discover the reason why because I can't wait to
start walking along the path that leads past the Ribblehead viaduct
and goes on into the hills.
 |
| Ribblehead Viaduct |
Another view of the viaduct, slightly bent and distorted, and with
one arch missing. Flawed and imperfect, but not an outright lie, it
has merely bent the truth a little...
The path follows the railway for a couple of miles then crosses
over the tracks on a walled path. Next to it the river too, is carried
over the tracks on its own little aqueduct.
The river seems to like its artificial bed with its carefully aligned
rectangular cobbles stepped into layers to lower the water level
gradually before it returns to its natural bed. The railway tracks the
aqueduct crosses over, can just be seen in the background,
bordered by trees.
Looking back over the valley.
The
next day is hard because it has been a long time since I've
walked
very far carrying a backpack. I have toothache, my feet
soon hurt and
my backpack feels very heavy though I thought I
was carrying the absolute minimum (except for bringing 3 books
when clearly one would
do! And as it turned out I read hardly
anything, certainly after that
first day I was so tired I didn't even
read before falling asleep).
Two
or three miles brings us to the Dales Way. A little further on
we see the
Dentdale viaduct
and stop for lunch beside the river that runs underneath it.
 |
| 3 bridges, the old pedestrian one, the mighty foot of one of the arches of the viaduct, and beyond it, the road bridge |
It may not be clear in the picture below, but the trunk of this tree
emerges from the near river bank and grows horizontally across to
the other bank. The branches grow vertically out of the horizontal
trunk.
Close to the old bridge, used by people on foot
and horse drawn carts -
next to the railway viaduct
and the road bridge just beyond it -
a willow tree grows on the river bank
and horse drawn carts -
next to the railway viaduct
and the road bridge just beyond it -
a willow tree grows on the river bank
The tree trunk is horizontal
perhaps in imitation of the bridges -
its imitation being praise -
or perhaps it was the other bank that drew it on -
its straight, unswerving love
The trail then mostly follows the river.
 |
| The Arten Gill viaduct in the distance |
At last, the village of Dent comes into sight.
The cherry tree beside the church in Dent.
The church was built to praise God's glory.
The cherry tree praises, glories.
Comments
I've walked or driven under that most scenic of railways, the Settle-Carlisle line, several times. And trekked the whole of the sublime Dales Way a while ago. Dent is special — I've camped there twice — but I must admit I remember the Sun Inn more clearly than the church :)
Un grand merci pour toutes ces photos. Bien amicalement.
Roger
Interested in st serf, it seems he died just before st Columba turned up at Dalriada - who made inroads into Pictland and brought Christianity ... But obviously st serf was actually before st C. These old stories/histories fascinate me, and the places often hold such a sense of their pasts. I understand that histories of a saint were sometimes written as sort of propaganda, sometimes exaggerated!
I learned at college how the western seaboard of scotland in those times was like the M1 - part of a main highway, most travel was by sea and what are now thought of as being relatively remote we're then busy and visited by many from far and wide.
Lovely blog post, M! Xx
I decided to check out St Serf recently because I passed the street where I went to kindergarten, at St. Serf's school. Pleased he was a Levantine. Still don't know what brought him to Scotland. Divine guidance I suppose.
Anonymous - yes thankyou, my toothache left later that day, never to return.