Echoes of Industry: Rust, Cobbles, and the Mystery of Siddal's Brickworks

April 2017. A crisp spring day, and I found myself perched above the village of Siddal, near Halifax, West Yorkshire, exploring the remnants of what I was told was Savile's Brickworks. The place had a haunting beauty, a silent testament to industrial might and the passage of time.

Armed with my trusty Nikon D3300 SLR, I captured the stark, weathered beauty of the brickworks. The textures were incredible – the rough, aged brick, the rusted metal, the tenacious weeds pushing through cracks in the concrete. Each shot seemed to tell a story, whispering of the workers who once toiled there, the roar of machinery, and the fiery kilns that once dominated the landscape.

But there was a mystery to the place. Was it truly abandoned? I'd heard conflicting stories. Some said a recycling centre operated there, breathing new life into the old site. Others insisted it was completely deserted, a ghost of its former self. As an HGV driver myself, I couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of navigating a 44-ton lorry up (or down!) the steep, cobbled slope leading to the yard. That alone seemed a daunting task, regardless of whether the place was active or not.

The photos, taken on April 9th, 2017, reveal a landscape of industrial decay, yet there's a strange allure to it. The sheer scale of the site, the echoes of its past, and the uncertainty of its present all contributed to a captivating experience. If you're interested in grabbing a print of these photos, clicking on any of the images will take you to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

There's something deeply fascinating about industrial ruins. They offer a tangible connection to the past, a glimpse into the lives and work of those who came before us. Savile's Brickworks, with its mix of decay and resilience, is a perfect example.

Whether it's a bustling recycling centre or a silent monument, the site continues to hold a certain magic. The cobbles, the bricks, the rust – they all whisper tales of a bygone era, leaving us to wonder about the stories they could tell.

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Exploring Allan Park, Sowerby Bridge

Nestled on the slopes of the Norland hillside, a stone's throw from Sowerby Bridge Railway Station, lies Allan Park. It's a charming public space, a green oasis carved into the landscape, and a place where history whispers from every level. But this isn't just your average park; it's a story etched in terraces, bowling greens, and the silent passage of forgotten railways.

My visit, captured on a crisp March 18th, 2018, with my trusty Nikon D3300, revealed a park of surprising depth. What strikes you first is the tiered nature of the landscape. Allan Park isn't a flat expanse; it's a series of levels, a testament to the effort it took to tame the hillside. This unique topography lends the park a sense of intimacy and discovery as you wander from one section to the next.

The story behind Allan Park is as intriguing as its layout. It was once the grounds of Allan House, a grand residence purchased by the council in 1922. The original vision was ambitious: a public swimming pool. Imagine the bustling sounds of swimmers echoing through the valley! However, those plans never materialized. Instead, Allan House found a new purpose, transforming into a clinic, serving the community in a different way.

And the grounds? They were reborn as a public park, a space for recreation and relaxation. A bowling green, a playground filled with the laughter of children, and tranquil woodland walking areas emerged, creating a diverse space for all to enjoy. It's a testament to how a space can evolve, adapting to the changing needs of a community.

But perhaps the most fascinating secret lies beneath our feet. Underneath the serene park grounds, the Scar Head Tunnel quietly exists, a relic of the Rishworth Branch Railway Line. Imagine the rumble of steam trains echoing through the hillside, a stark contrast to the peaceful atmosphere of the park today. It's a hidden layer of history, a reminder of the industrial past that shaped this region.

Walking through Allan Park, you can't help but feel a connection to the past. The echoes of Allan House, the dreams of a swimming pool, the forgotten railway line – they all contribute to the park's unique character. It's a place where history and nature intertwine, offering a moment of tranquility amidst the everyday.

The photos I took on that March day capture a snapshot of this hidden gem. The subtle textures of the stonework, the vibrant green of the bowling green, the quiet beauty of the woodland paths – all speak to the park's unassuming charm.

If you find yourself near Sowerby Bridge, take a moment to explore Allan Park. It's more than just a park; it's a journey through time, a glimpse into the past, and a peaceful escape into nature. You might just discover a hidden history of your own.

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Tracing the Ghost Tracks: A Walk Along the Rishworth Branch Line

The Ryburn Valley, a picturesque slice of West Yorkshire, holds secrets whispered on the winter wind. On a crisp January day in 2016, armed with my Nikon D3300, I set out to explore a fragment of its forgotten past: the Rishworth Branch Line. This railway, a vital artery in its time, once snaked its way up the valley from Sowerby Bridge, connecting Watson's Mill Crossing, Triangle, and Ripponden before reaching its final destination in Rishworth.

Though the last train rattled along these tracks in the 1950s, the remnants of this once-bustling line remain, etched into the landscape. My journey, a roughly half-mile trek, took me from the echoes of Watson's Mill to the quiet village of Triangle. And what a journey it was!

The air was sharp and cold, the ground firm underfoot, as I followed the ghostly path of the former trackbed. The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of winter-bare trees and the distant murmur of the Ryburn River. It was easy to imagine the steam engines, their rhythmic chugging echoing through the valley, the shouts of passengers and the clatter of cargo.

What struck me most were the bridges. These sturdy stone structures, silent witnesses to a bygone era, still spanned the former trackbed, their arches framing snippets of the valley's beauty. They stood as testaments to the engineering prowess of the past, their weathered stones bearing the marks of time and the elements.

The photographs I captured on that day, the 30th of January 2016, tell a story of quiet resilience. The stark beauty of the winter landscape, the skeletal trees against the pale sky, the weathered stones of the bridges – all combined to create a sense of timelessness.

Walking along the Rishworth Branch Line was like stepping into a historical photograph. It was a journey through time, a glimpse into a world where steam engines ruled the rails and communities were connected by the iron horse.

It's a reminder that even when progress moves forward, the echoes of the past remain, woven into the fabric of the landscape. The Rishworth Branch Line, though silent, continues to tell its story, a story of connection, community, and the enduring beauty of the Ryburn Valley. If you ever find yourself in the area, take a walk along these ghost tracks. You might just hear the whispers of history on the winter wind.

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Wainhouse Terrace: A Victorian Gem in Halifax

Nestled between the bustling A646 and A58, in the heart of King Cross, near Halifax, lies a silent witness to a bygone era: Wainhouse Terrace. This Grade II listed structure, a remnant of a once-thriving Victorian housing development, stands as a poignant reminder of the area's dramatic transformation in the 1970s.

Imagine, if you will, the bustling streets, the close-knit community that once filled the back-to-back terraces that lined this hillside. Today, only the terrace itself remains, a lone sentinel amidst the modern roads and redeveloped landscape. The vision of John Wainhouse, the same man who gifted us the iconic Wainhouse Tower, this terrace boasts a unique square tower, a spiral staircase winding its way upwards, culminating in a panoramic balcony overlooking the breathtaking Ryburn Valley.

My journey to Wainhouse Terrace in November 2013, captured on my trusty Samsung Galaxy Tablet, revealed a site steeped in history and a touch of melancholy. The echoes of the past seemed to linger in the air, a stark contrast to the roar of traffic on the adjacent roads.

The story of Wainhouse Terrace is one of both preservation and neglect. After the demolition of the surrounding housing in the early 70s, the council wisely transformed the terrace into a viewing area in 1973, offering a glimpse of the stunning valley scenery. For a time, it was cherished and maintained. However, the narrative took a sad turn in March 2008 when the council sold it for a mere £76,000.

Since then, time and the elements have taken their toll. The terrace has fallen into disrepair, a shadow of its former glory. It's a heartbreaking sight, a piece of history slowly crumbling. A glimmer of hope shone in 2016, when a dedicated local volunteer group valiantly attempted to reclaim the site, clearing overgrown vegetation and attempting to stem the tide of decay.

This brings me to my personal vision for Wainhouse Terrace. It possesses an undeniable charm, a unique character that begs to be resurrected. I envision a vibrant market area, a bustling hub of local crafts and produce, or perhaps a tranquil garden, a haven of peace amidst the urban landscape. Imagine the spiral staircase, its ancient stones echoing with the footsteps of visitors, leading to a balcony alive with the chatter of marketgoers or the quiet contemplation of garden enthusiasts.

The terrace, recently re-listed for sale, presents a unique opportunity. It's a chance to breathe new life into a piece of Halifax history, to transform it into a community asset. It's a chance to honour John Wainhouse's legacy and create a space that enriches the lives of locals and visitors alike.

Wainhouse Terrace is more than just bricks and mortar; it's a story waiting to be retold, a canvas awaiting a new masterpiece. Will someone step forward and answer its silent plea? Let's hope so. Because this forgotten gem deserves a second chance to shine.

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Halifax Station: A Journey Through Time, Tracks, and Transformations

Halifax. A town steeped in industrial history, and like many northern towns, its story is inextricably linked to the railways. But the tale of Halifax Station is more than just tracks and timetables; it's a fascinating journey through Victorian ambition, wartime adjustments, and modern-day revitalization hopes.

Let's rewind to 1844. Imagine a single track, snaking its way to the edge of Halifax, terminating at a humble spot called Shaw Syke, near where the roar of the Shay's football and rugby crowds echo today. This was Halifax's first taste of the railway age. A rudimentary connection, but a connection nonetheless.

Fast forward to 1855, and a significant upgrade. The line connecting Halifax to the burgeoning industrial powerhouse of Bradford was established, and a new station was built in its current location. Shaw Syke, the original terminus, transitioned into a goods yard. And here's a delightful twist: the original 1855 station building still stands, a proud relic of Victorian engineering, now cleverly incorporated into the vibrant Eureka! Children's Museum, a testament to how history can be repurposed for modern enjoyment.

But the station's story doesn't stop there. The following decades witnessed a flurry of development. A new road bridge provided a higher entrance, reflecting the town's growing prominence. Platforms multiplied, reaching a peak of seven, buzzing with activity. A restaurant and even a pub catered to the bustling crowds of travellers. This was a station at its zenith, a hub of commerce and connection.

And then, the names began to change, mirroring the shifting tides of the times. From the simple "Halifax," it became "Halifax Old Station" in 1890, perhaps to distinguish it from other railway developments. In 1951, it was christened "Halifax Town," reflecting a sense of civic pride. Finally, in 1961, it reverted to "Halifax," a return to simplicity.

However, this final name change coincided with a gradual decline in services. Platforms were decommissioned, leaving only the island platform to serve the reduced traffic. The grand station, once a symbol of progress, began to shrink.

But the story isn't over. There's a spark of hope, a plan to breathe new life into this historic space. A proposed £40 million project aims to bring the platform adjacent to the 1855 building back into use and remove the bridge access, returning the station to a more pedestrian-friendly configuration. Will this ambitious plan come to fruition? Only time will tell.

Halifax Station's journey is a microcosm of British railway history, reflecting the ebb and flow of progress, decline, and potential renewal. It's a reminder that even the most solid structures are subject to change, and that history, like a railway line, is a continuous journey. Whether the planned revitalization takes place or not, the station remains a fascinating chapter in Halifax's rich tapestry.

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The picture above was taken on the 1st June 2014 with a Polaroid is2132 from Beacon Hill, the following 5 pictures were taken with a Nikon d3300 on the 3rd October 2017.

The signal box has closed since I took this picture.

The next 5 pictures were taken on the 27th May 2018 with a Nikon d3300.

The bridge may be demolished under current plans being discussed. The spire is all that remains of Square Church.

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Chasing the Golden Hour: My Scammonden Sunset Experiment

Sometimes, the most beautiful moments are fleeting. A perfect sunset, a burst of vibrant colour, a gentle transition from day to night. Capturing that magic is a challenge, but one I decided to take on back in August 2018.

On Saturday, August 4th, I found myself perched near the serene Scammonden Reservoir, nestled in the heart of the Ryburn Valley. The air was alive with a restless wind, a constant reminder of nature's untamed energy. My mission? To track the setting sun as it dipped behind the distant hills, painting the valley in hues of orange and gold.

"Scammonden Sunset" is the result of that evening's endeavour. I set up my tripod, pointed my camera, and let the sun dictate the scene. For a full 20 minutes, I patiently recorded the slow, mesmerizing descent. The wind, however, had other plans. It buffeted my tripod, causing a few wobbles that, while a tad frustrating at the time, now add a touch of raw authenticity to the final product.

The real magic happened in the editing room. I compressed those 20 minutes of real-time sunset into a mere 37 seconds, transforming the gradual shift into a breathtaking, accelerated spectacle. The result is a short, punchy video that captures the essence of the sunset's beauty in a blink.

To enhance the experience, I added a musical score, carefully chosen to complement the visual journey. The music, I believe, adds an emotional layer, amplifying the sense of awe and tranquility that the sunset evokes.

This was my first attempt at filming a sunset in this way, and while it wasn't without its challenges (thanks, wind!), I'm quite pleased with the outcome. It's a reminder of the simple beauty that surrounds us, and the power of time-lapse to condense those moments into something truly captivating.

Sometimes, imperfections add character. Those little tripod wobbles, the gusts of wind – they’re part of the story, a testament to the real, unfiltered experience of capturing nature's fleeting beauty.

If you've ever found yourself mesmerized by a sunset, I hope "Scammonden Sunset" resonates with you. It's a small window into a moment in time, a reminder to pause and appreciate the natural wonders that surround us.

Perhaps this inspires you to capture your own sunset, or simply to take a moment to appreciate the next one you witness. After all, every sunset is a unique masterpiece, painted across the canvas of the sky.

The video was filmed using a Nikon d3300 SLR camera.

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Aspinall Street: Where Ted Hughes Began

Nestled in the heart of Mytholmroyd, West Yorkshire, a seemingly ordinary terraced house holds an extraordinary secret. 1 Aspinall Street, with its unassuming facade, is the birthplace of one of England's most celebrated poets, Ted Hughes. Born on August 17th, 1930, Hughes's early years within these walls, and the wild, dramatic landscape surrounding them, would forever shape his poetic vision.

Imagine a young Ted, his imagination ignited by the rugged beauty of the Calder Valley. The wind whistling through the hills, the dark, brooding moors, the rushing waters of the River Calder – these were the raw materials that would later be forged into the powerful imagery of his poetry. He lived here until he was eight, a formative period that imprinted the very essence of this place onto his soul, even after his family moved to Mexborough, South Yorkshire.

It's fascinating to consider how this small, terraced house, a humble beginning, could nurture such a towering literary figure. The landscape of Mytholmroyd, with its blend of industrial grit and untamed nature, is palpable in Hughes's work. You can almost feel the dampness of the stone, hear the cries of the curlews, and sense the ancient, elemental forces that he so masterfully evoked.

Today, 1 Aspinall Street stands as a testament to Hughes's legacy, thanks to the dedicated work of the Elmet Trust. Established in 2006, the Trust is a passionate advocate for Hughes's life and work. They took on the responsibility of restoring the house, meticulously recreating its 1930s ambiance. In June 2008, their efforts culminated in a beautifully preserved piece of literary history.

But 1 Aspinall Street isn't just a museum piece. It's a living, breathing space, a retreat for writers seeking inspiration in the very place where Hughes's own journey began. Imagine yourself, pen in hand, sitting by the window, gazing out at the same vistas that fuelled his imagination. The very air seems charged with creative energy.

The Elmet Trust has transformed this modest dwelling into a sanctuary, a place where words can flow freely, where the echoes of Hughes's voice can still be heard. It's a reminder that even the most extraordinary journeys often begin in the most ordinary of places.

If you're a writer, a poet, or simply a lover of literature, consider a pilgrimage to 1 Aspinall Street. It's more than just a house; it's a portal to the past, a connection to the roots of a literary giant, and a chance to experience the very landscape that shaped his genius.

Perhaps, within those walls, you too will find your own voice, inspired by the whispers of Aspinall Street.

I took these pictures on the 21st July 2018 with a Nikon d3300, clicking on any of them should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

I wanted to add the sepia & black and white versions to age the pictures a little, i felt they gave the photo's a bit more character than the colour versions.

The picture below features a copy of Hughes poem the Harvest Moon, no copyright infringement is intended and I will remove if required.

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All pictures remain the copyright of Colin Green.