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
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