Colin Green Photography: St Pauls

Thursday, 22 November 2018

Cross Stone (St Pauls) Church, Todmorden.

The Calder Valley, a ribbon of green winding through the heart of West Yorkshire, holds its secrets close. Amongst its picturesque towns and alongside the tranquil flow of the Rochdale Canal, I'd often glimpsed a solitary silhouette perched high above Todmorden. This was Cross Stone Church, also known as St Paul's, a place that had long piqued my curiosity. Little did I know, the story held within its weathered stones was far more captivating than its distant view suggested.

Finally, on a crisp April day in 2017, armed with my trusty Nikon D3300, I made the climb. What I found wasn't a bustling place of worship, but a silent sentinel, a defunct church with a history etched into its very fabric. Built in 1832, St Paul's wasn't the first sacred space to grace this commanding spot. For centuries before, since at least 1450, earlier churches had stood watch over the valley, their stories now layered beneath the current structure like geological strata.

The year 1978 marked a poignant turning point. Declared unsafe, the church was abandoned, the ominous whisper of it "sliding down the hill" sealing its fate as a place of active worship. This sense of precariousness only added to the air of mystery that clung to the site.

But the history of Cross Stone Church extends beyond its structural woes. Imagine a time when Todmorden was a town divided, straddling the ancient border between Yorkshire and Lancashire. Perched on its hilltop, St Paul's served the spiritual needs of the Yorkshire community, while St Mary's catered to their Lancashire neighbours. The boundary changes of 1888 unified the town under the White Rose of Yorkshire, yet the legacy of this division lingers in the stories of these two churches.

As I wandered the grounds, the silence was broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant murmur of the valley below. It was then that I noticed the curious details that hinted at the church's long and varied past. And then there were the lower walls, where a certain "spooky setting" did indeed prevail, the weathered stone hinting at tales untold.

Perhaps the most intriguing discovery was tucked away on the east wall: a set of ancient stocks, now embraced by the untamed beauty of a wild garden. These silent restraints spoke of a time when public punishment was a visible part of community life, a stark reminder of the social structures of centuries past. To see them now, softened by moss and surrounded by wildflowers, was a powerful juxtaposition of harsh history and gentle nature.

My long-awaited visit to Cross Stone Church wasn't the vibrant exploration of a living parish I had perhaps naively envisioned. Instead, it was a journey into the quiet dignity of a forgotten place, a poignant encounter with history etched in stone and whispered on the wind. It served as a powerful reminder that even in abandonment, places hold their stories, waiting for a curious eye and an open heart to listen. The view from the hilltop, overlooking Todmorden and the valley beyond, was breath taking, but the true beauty lay in the silent testament of Cross Stone Church, a steadfast landmark bearing witness to centuries of change.

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Monday, 2 January 2017

The Rise and Fall of Halifax's High Level Railway: A Victorian Dream Unfulfilled Pictured February 2014

The Halifax High Level Railway, a testament to Victorian engineering ambition, once carved a dramatic path across the Halifax landscape. Originally conceived as part of a grand scheme by the Hull and Barnsley Railway to link Holmfield with Huddersfield and beyond, and culminating in a grand new central station at George Square, Halifax, the project ultimately fell short of its initial vision. Though construction began in 1884, the ambitious plan was abandoned just two years later. The line, however, did open to Halifax St. Paul's Station on September 5th, 1890, a truncated version of the original dream.

The construction of the High Level Railway was a significant feat of engineering. The line boasted a 740-metre tunnel, the impressive 10-arch Wheatley Viaduct, and substantial cuttings on either side of the tunnel. Large goods yards at Pellon and St. Paul's stations further underscored the scale of the undertaking.

Despite the impressive infrastructure, the High Level Railway never captured the hearts of local passengers. Its indirect route, often requiring a change at Holmfield Station onto the Queensbury Line to reach the center of Halifax, proved inconvenient. The line's true calling became freight transport, serving the numerous mills that dotted the northern and western reaches of Halifax. Passenger services were withdrawn in 1916, a mere 26 years after opening, and the line was quickly singled, with signaling removed. Freight traffic continued to rumble along the High Level until June 27th, 1960, before finally succumbing to changing economic realities.

Today, the remnants of this once-bustling railway offer a glimpse into a bygone era. The Wheatley Viaduct still stands, a majestic, if now inaccessible and abandoned, monument to Victorian ingenuity. The Wheatley Tunnel also remains, although its eastern portal has been filled in, and a housing estate now occupies the land above. Further along the route, Wood Lane, Brackenbed, and Pellon Lane bridges stand in remarkably similar condition to their operational days, bearing silent witness to the trains that once passed beneath and above them. The substantial stone-walled embankment at Pellon, too, endures, as do many of the bridges towards King Cross, though many of the latter have been infilled over time.

The echoes of the High Level Railway can still be found in the modern landscape. The site of Pellon Station is now part of an industrial estate known as High Level Way, a subtle nod to the area's past. The grand Halifax St. Paul's Station, once a gateway to the town, has been transformed into a retail park, erasing almost all traces of its railway heritage. For many years, a car dealership and petrol station occupied the site, but recent redevelopment has further reshaped the landscape. While the High Level Railway may be gone, its legacy, both visible and hidden, continues to shape the character of Halifax.