A Photographic Journey Through Brighouse Railway Station (August 2018)

August 2018. A simple date, a snapshot in time, captured by my trusty Nikon D3300. But within those digital frames lies a story, a whisper of history echoing through the platforms of Brighouse Railway Station. It's a story of change, resilience, and the enduring spirit of rail travel.

Brighouse Railway Station, seemingly just another stop on the line, holds a past far richer than its modern facade might suggest. Did you know it first opened its doors – or rather, its platforms – on the 5th of October 1840? Back then, it was known as "Brighouse and Bradford." A curious name, considering trains couldn't even reach Bradford directly until 1854 when the Halifax line was completed! It also bore the moniker "Brighouse for Rastrick," hinting at its role as a key transport hub for the surrounding areas.

Imagine the scenes: the billowing steam, the rhythmic chugging of locomotives, the bustle of Victorian passengers. It's a stark contrast to the sleek, modern trains that glide through today. However, progress, as it often does, brought change. The original station, a relic of a bygone era, was sadly closed on the 3rd of January 1970. A final, poignant farewell as the 6:53 PM London King's Cross to Bradford service passed through, marking its demise.

And then, silence. The station, a vital artery of the town, was gone, demolished, its history seemingly erased. But the story doesn't end there. Like a phoenix from the ashes, Brighouse Railway Station was reborn, reopening on the 29th of May 2000, at its original location. A testament to the community's desire to reconnect with its past and embrace the future.

However, the tale of Brighouse isn't complete without a mention of its neighbour, Elland. Originally slated to reopen its own station alongside Brighouse, Elland's revival has been a saga of delays. The projected 2022 opening, with a £22 million price tag, highlights the challenges of modern infrastructure projects. "Only 22 years late," you can't help but chuckle, a wry nod to the famed (or infamous) efficiency of old British Rail. "We may be late, but we get there eventually," a sentiment that resonates with the slow, steady rhythm of railway progress.

These photographs, captured on a warm August day, are more than just images. They're a portal to the past, a reminder of the enduring legacy of rail travel. They speak of the generations who passed through these platforms, of the stories etched into the very fabric of the station.

So, the next time you find yourself at Brighouse Railway Station, take a moment to appreciate its history. Listen for the echoes of steam, imagine the bustling crowds, and remember the resilience of a community that brought its station back to life. And perhaps, spare a thought for Elland, patiently waiting for its turn to join the story.

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A Pennine Gem: Discovering Christ Church, Denshaw

Sometimes, the most enchanting discoveries happen when you least expect them. That's exactly what occurred on a sunny June afternoon in 2016, as I journeyed back from Manchester Airport, weaving my way through the picturesque Pennine landscape. My original plan was to explore the tranquil beauty of Dowry Reservoir, but fate had other plans. As I drove along Huddersfield Road, a striking silhouette caught my eye: Christ Church, Denshaw.

Standing proudly near the heart of the village, Christ Church is a testament to Victorian architectural prowess. Built by Henry Gartside and opened in 1863, this Anglican parish church exudes a sense of timeless serenity. Its solid stone construction and elegant spire pierce the Pennine sky, a beacon of faith and history.

The church's grounds, too, hold a special significance. Just inside the entrance gate, the Denshaw War Memorial stands as a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made by the village's sons. The juxtaposition of the peaceful church and the solemn memorial creates a powerful atmosphere, inviting reflection and remembrance.

It's no surprise that Christ Church was granted Grade II listed status on June 19th, 1967, a recognition of its architectural and historical importance. The intricate details of its exterior, the well-maintained grounds, and the sense of history that permeates the air all contribute to its unique charm.

The photographs I captured on that serendipitous day, June 25th, 2016, offer a glimpse into the beauty of Christ Church. From the majestic spire to the tranquil gardens, each image tells a story of a place where history and community intertwine.

I've included eight of those photos below, showcasing the exterior and grounds of this beautiful church. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed discovering this hidden gem.

Christ Church, Denshaw, is more than just a building; it's a living piece of history, a place of peace, and a reminder of the enduring beauty of the Pennine landscape. If you ever find yourself travelling through this part of the world, I highly recommend taking a moment to explore this enchanting church and its surroundings. You never know what hidden treasures you might discover.

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Hebden's Old Bridge (July 2018)

Sometimes, the best adventures are the unplanned ones. Recently, I found myself with a few spare moments in the charming town of Hebden Bridge. Camera in hand, I decided to revisit a familiar and beloved landmark: the ancient packhorse bridge that gracefully spans Hebden Water, right in the heart of town.

This isn't my first encounter with this picturesque bridge. I've shared images of it before, captured with the nostalgic charm of a Polaroid is2132 Bridge Camera and the digital versatility of a Samsung Galaxy Tablet, But this time, I was armed with my trusty Nikon D3300, ready to capture the bridge in a different light.

But this bridge isn't just a pretty face; it's a piece of history. Thought to date back to the early 16th century, it stands as a testament to the resilience and spirit of the local community. Imagine! It nearly fell victim to progress when the new turnpike was built in the 1770s, but thanks to the determined residents of Heptonstall, it was spared.

Over the centuries, the bridge has undergone numerous renovations, adapting to the changing times while retaining its historical charm. One of its most distinctive features is the jutting parapets, designed to create passing places due to its narrow width. It's a clever and practical design, a reminder of the bridge's original purpose as a vital crossing point for packhorses carrying goods.

And, of course, the bridge is where the town gets its name: Hebden Bridge. A fitting name for a town that proudly embraces its heritage while looking towards the future.

These few minutes spent capturing the essence of Hebden Bridge served as a gentle reminder of the beauty that can be found in the everyday. It's a reminder to slow down, appreciate the history that surrounds us, and capture those fleeting moments that make a place truly special. Whether it's through the nostalgic lens of a Polaroid or the crisp detail of a DSLR, every image tells a story. And the story of Hebden Bridge, with its ancient packhorse bridge at its heart, is one worth telling.

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

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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.

Clicking any of the images below should open a window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

Thanks for looking, please take a moment to share and follow me on social media, and check out my portfolio's on Photo4Me and Clickasnap via the links below.

All the images remain the copyright of Colin Green.