Wharfedale (1 Viewer)

halftwo said:

Beneath Bolton Abbey the stepping stones stride across the Wharfe, shallow and as brown as the trout below the shallows, and the wooded dale sweeps up to the hills, ripely purple, resplendent.

On the dark river a Goosander dips, still visible in this Yorkshire tea, and catches a fish, resurfacing to swallow as Mandarin ducks swim by.

Low beech branches sweep across the shadowed water; a Kingfisher's whistle screams. A blinding bolt of blue brightens the moody river - a quarter of a blink and gone.

Beyond the Strid's chasm, where ancient whirlpools have etched stone bowls amongst the mossy rock banks, Dippers walk into the water and disappear beneath, bobbing back to rounded rocks where Grey wagtails bounce.

A Lesser black-back splashes down to grab a crayfish, hoists it up to the rocks to dismember it, gulps down half of it and the other half, still alive, fights back, huge claws grabbing the air as the gull bites again.

Spotted flycatches perch on fences and hirundines fill the sky, and up above the hill the dot of a Kestrel - the head of an iron nail hammered into the portrait of this landscape.

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halftwo said:

Spotted flycatches perch on fences and hirundines fill the sky, and up above the hill the dot of a Kestrel - the head of an iron nail hammered into the portrait of this landscape.

Click to expand...

halftwo said:

Beneath Bolton Abbey the stepping stones stride across the Wharfe, shallow and as brown as the trout below the shallows, and the wooded dale sweeps up to the hills, ripely purple, resplendent.

On the dark river a Goosander dips, still visible in this Yorkshire tea, and catches a fish, resurfacing to swallow as Mandarin ducks swim by.

Low beech branches sweep across the shadowed water; a Kingfisher's whistle screams. A blinding bolt of blue brightens the moody river - a quarter of a blink and gone.

Beyond the Strid's chasm, where ancient whirlpools have etched stone bowls amongst the mossy rock banks, Dippers walk into the water and disappear beneath, bobbing back to rounded rocks where Grey wagtails bounce.

A Lesser black-back splashes down to grab a crayfish, hoists it up to the rocks to dismember it, gulps down half of it and the other half, still alive, fights back, huge claws grabbing the air as the gull bites again.

Spotted flycatches perch on fences and hirundines fill the sky, and up above the hill the dot of a Kestrel - the head of an iron nail hammered into the portrait of this landscape.

Click to expand...

halftwo said:

Thanks everyone. Wharfedale is such a beautiful place, we have vowed to return in spring.

Surprised to see a Goosander at very close quarters. The birds were scarce, typical of the season, but the landscape was the star.

Many people stopped to watch the gulls eating the crayfish: quite a gruesome spectacle with the still moving pieces of crayfish trying to defend themselves from the gull.

Click to expand...