A Visitor's View
Having, for many years, driven past Langdon Beck without stopping, my wife and I booked a couple of night’s bed and breakfast in Upper Teesdale. I wanted to photograph Cauldron Snout. Arriving at midday on the 15th August, we drove up, and up, to the car park at Cow Green reservoir where we were delighted to find the heather in full bloom and the sun shining intermittently. The reservoir is
fed by the River Tees which has its source in the distant fells to the north-west. Amidst heather and moorland the two mile stretch of water looked placid in its isolated moorland setting.
Cow Green dam, built between 1967 and 1971, is situated at the southern end of the reservoir and is reached after a two mile walk from the car park. It is built into the rocks of the Whin Sill on its east side and into an earth dam on the opposite side.
Imposing as the dam is, it is hard to reconcile the facts that the water of the Tees, falling freely over a succession of fine waterfalls downstream, had earlier been corralled and forced through a man-made pipe at the base of this dam.
Shortly after the dam, the river falls about 50 metres in a succession of waterfalls. Beside the first of these falls, the fractured rocks of the Great Whin Sill present a contrast with the smoothness of the dam wall upriver.
At the bottom of the narrow gorge the water is free to fall in a rush over a wider area. This is the view that hikers first see when walking north on the Pennine Way.
In the middle of the river, below the final fall, the size and shape of the weathered, algae-covered rocks is a testament to the power of water and ice to crack and shift rock.
A little further downstream, just below Falcon Clints, we came across a rock that looked somewhat ‘bewildered’ by where it had fallen.
As the path ahead looked to be boggy, and it was getting late, we retraced our steps towards Cauldron Snout and were able to enjoy approaching views of the hill, north of Maize Beck, with its barn safely positioned above the Tees.
The heather coated crags of the Whin Sill remained to be climbed and the return walk to the car park completed, so no more photographs were taken on the 15th.
On the morning of the 16th , we aimed for Widdybank Farm on what promised to be a fine sunny day. A Pennine-Way walker was also heading north and was already excited about the prospect of seeing High Cup Nick for the first time, something my wife and I have yet to experience.
The remoteness and grandeur of Widdybank Pasture on that morning was a joy to see.
Further along the track, tall grasses testify to the rain that nourishes these wetland pastures. Even in summer, one particular section, beyond Widdybank Farm, had to be skirted given the depth of the water.
We walked, scrambled and climbed on earth, rock and slatted-wood tracks, beside the river and back to Cauldron Snout. The views along the way were as impressive as we have seen anywhere in England but the light at midday was not conducive to landscape photography. Having carried a tripod and quite heavy camera equipment, I was delighted, on reaching Cauldron Snout, to be able to take a long-exposure image that transformed the cascading water into an almost ethereal fan-like structure.
After lunch, we began the return walk to Widdybank Farm. The light was now in a direction that allowed pictures to be taken of Falcon Clints where the vertical cracks of the Whin Sill can be clearly seen.
Further along, the remains of a wheel barrow is perched on rocks above the path. Seemingly incongruous, it appears to be a reminder of past, and continuing, labour in this rugged but beautiful landscape.
In the next picture the path can be seen to weave through wetland grasses towards a distant rock that on approaching appears to show a conchoidal fracture.
Its smooth rounded nature is apparent and it forms an impressive foreground beneath the Sill.
In contrast to this smooth faced rock, most of the scree is formed of large, jagged rectangular quartz dolerite boulders. However, like the rounded rock, there are a few rocks that look noticeably different. Possibly these were formed by the magma baking the surrounding limestone as it intruded into rock fissures 295 million years ago.
We passed an island in the river that is notable for having a healthy stock of Juniper and other flora.
With Widdybank Farm in distant sight, and an old barn to the left of the track, the hazy light ahead was beginning to obscure the far off Langdon Fells.
However, allowing me to get closer than is usually the case, a single sheep permitted me to inch towards it. Having got as close as I dared, it finally ran off startled by me moving backwards to steady myself!
After sampling just a few of the visual delights of this remote gem of a reserve, my wife and I completed the day with a short walk around Langdon Beck. Although, not up to the sunset of the day before, the setting sun provided sufficient light to capture a view of Sayer Hill Farm, falling into darkness below Widdybank Fell.
This has to be one of the finest landscapes in England, and to think that we were formerly too busy to stop and look. Converted, we are now eager to see how the landscape appears at other times of
the year.
Peter J. Hatcher
