Flooding in West Yorkshire

Its December and should be crisp and cold with a winter sun, frost and sometimes a dusting of snow. But not this December here in Yorkshire, currently its damp, shrouded in fog, windy with torrential driving rain that falls horizontally (not vertically as it should).

Travelling to Hebden the other day in torrential rain and wind I was stopped in a long queue of traffic thinking there must have been a car accident. But as I got closer I could see a emblazoned police car parked horizontally across the road and a very helpful policeman advised that the road was under three feet of water and was closed.

I needed to get through and Mr Policeman advised I needed to take the "top" road. Shocked, I had no idea how to even find the "top" road. Mr Anonymous in the car behind me was going my way and very kindly said I could follow him. So, three or four of us turned around and set off in convoy following the very kind Mr Anonymous climbing the very steep and narrow hill leading to the top road.

In my little mini cooper with a young lady in her tiny KA behind me we cautiously traveled the steep hill through a fast massive rushing river of water flowing down the roadway; water that was coming off the Yorkshire moors and hills that had no other place to run other than down the road. Overloaded natural streams were bursting through cracks in the dry stone walling on to the road in front of me. I have never seen water like it in England, it was an unbelievable sight and must have been at least three inches deep as it cascaded down the immensely steep hill to the valley below. I have witnessed this type of flooding in the washes in Arizona after torrential rainfall, but never in England.

Our little cars held on beautifully and did us proud as we risked the flooded dips and cascading rivers which our Anonymous leader very carefully and diligently leading us mile after mile along the winding narrow "top" road to the safety of the low road and our onward journeys. The road was dangerous and covered in branches, leaves, gravel and muck swept down off the moors in this deluge of unnatural rainfall and weather. Had it not been for the dense fog the view across the Calder Valley would have been sensational. We made it, through, safely, as we wound our way down, through all the rubbish on the road, round hair pin bends and into Hebden via Mytholm passing the stately St James Church shrouded in a swirling mist with its tower protruding towards heaven.

Our very kind Anonymous leader pulled over, checked in with us we OK and knew where we were headed and wished us well on our journeys. This gentleman was a real star. Thanking him profusely, we continued on our weary ways, me personally, looking forward to a piping hot cup of strong Yorkshire tea at my final destination.

16.12.15

Saddleworth Moors

My goodness what a difference a few weeks make up here in the wild wet foggy moors of West Yorkshire. Travelling to Hull today across the bleak but somehow beautiful moors I was hit by dense fog which only added to the atmospheric Saddleworth moors. The moors are eerie at the best of times. No civilisation for miles, just flat land of varying shades of green and taupe, lolling and rolling for as far as the eye can see smothered in a dense pea souper. Possibly the odd sheep nibbling whats left of last years moss, if you're lucky.

Leaving home after my early morning cuppa tea. Off out to work. I had a 2 hour journey across these bleak moors, but unlike a few weeks ago when the moors went drenched in the autumnal crisp ray of Yorkshire sunlight with patches of glistening frost tucked under the gorse and in the shade of the ferns, this gloomy dank foggy morning had a very different eyes view and feel.

Although eerie on a clear day, this morning felt particularly sinister yet beautiful all at the same time. This juxtaposition was uncanny; I was surprised by this stark side by side and overlapping contrast. Nevertheless, there was also an element of excitement and adrenaline rush in driving across such a bleak environment in dense fog knowing how bare desolate and stark the terrain was on either side of me and remembering the sinister activities that once scarred this landscape.

I had an uncomfortable feeling in my tummy and a sadness in my heart of knowing what despicable crimes had been committed here all those years ago. There was no getting away from the fact that this was an unpredictable, melancholy and grim part of the world that regurgitated dark memories and mixed emotions contrasted by the natural beauty and colours of these rolling Yorkshire moors.

My return journey conjured the same emotions and thoughts.

Home for a piping hot cuppa tea with a large slice of Victoria sandwich. Mmmm.

04.12.15