New Landscapes in Bowland

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Saunterings: Walking in North-West England

Saunterings is a set of reflections based upon walks around the counties of Cumbria, Lancashire and North Yorkshire in North-West England (as defined in the Preamble). Here is a list of all Saunterings so far. Guaranteed ad-free, AI-free and free!

259. New Landscapes in Bowland

After commenting on the unchanging nature of the Howgill Fells [258], I have been thinking about recent changes to more local and familiar landscapes. Anybody who walks over familiar terrain will wonder: What has changed since my last visit? What has changed since my first visit? Are the changes for the better? What is changing right now? What will change? What should change?

The Lake District, for example, has agonised over change ever since Celia Fiennes (in 1698) and Daniel Defoe (in 1727) dismissed it as barren, wild and scary. From Wordsworth trying to stop the railways to modern-day thrill-seekers wanting zip-wires in Elterwater Quarry there have always been disagreements about the future of the Lakes. Today the Lake District is a proud World Heritage Site, a designation that reflects its special nature and a determination to protect it. Liverpool too was a World Heritage Site – until it relinquished that status in 2021 because it redeveloped its historic waterfront. I doubt that the Lake District authorities will carry out changes that would result in it losing its World Heritage Site status.

It may be different for Bowland. For centuries it was pretty much a world of its own. Nobody outside knew or cared much about Bowland. Today it is hardly a prime tourist or walking destination. Between my home on the northern edge of Bowland and Slaidburn on the southern edge there is not a single facility for visitors.

I set off uphill with a forecast of 40% chance of rain, which perhaps meant that I had a 60% chance of staying dry, which is perhaps as much as I can expect at this time of the year. Once beyond the village I could see sheep in the first field basking in sunshine – but beyond them ominous clouds over Ward’s Stone. It was quite breezy, with overnight rain burbling down the roadside ditches.

Looking up the Littledale Road towards Ward's Stone

I noticed a sign at Ravenscar Farm. I have passed this sign hundreds of times but never took any notice of it before. If a farmer puts up a smart sign about his cattle then presumably there’s something special about them. But what? Is there no end to the questions that befuddle my brain? (Yes. There is no end.)

Left: The Ravenscar sign; Right: Holstein Friesians (I assume).

As usual, I am sadly ignorant. There are, I read, over 1,000 breeds of cattle. I might be bold enough to identify Belted Galloway, Highland and Longhorn. And I’ve heard of Angus, Guernsey and Jersey. That’s about it. Ravenscar’s cattle are Holstein Friesians, which is two breeds for the price of one. I don’t know how the combined breed differs from the individual ones but, judging from the photos, Holstein Friesian is the most common breed hereabouts. I assume the ‘pedigree’ makes Ravenscar’s cattle special.

I walked on up. The blackberries were over. After the dry summer they never really started. The bracken was turning rusty and losing the will to stand upright. The trees, however, were still green, on the whole. I paused at the cattle grid to look back but I couldn’t see Morecambe Bay or the Lakeland panorama. It was raining there. Was it coming my way?

Looking back towards Morecambe Bay

Ten seconds later I had my answer. But I walked on as far as the track down to the farm of Deep Clough, where I paused in the rain to contemplate the actual and potential changes to the landscape ahead. To the north is the highest point of Bowland, Ward’s Stone, below which lie heather-clad, jumbled heaps of millstone grit, and below them lie the green pastures. I thought about the words of Nan Fairbrother:

“To many of us in Britain, our countryside is the most beautiful landscape in the world, [having] evolved as a varied and harmonious whole by a long living together of man and nature in a gentle climate. But the modern world is now destroying this countryside inherited from the past; exploding the towns, swamping the villages, tearing up the farmland and spattering the old harmonious landscape with alien intrusions … and it is profoundly depressing. But in another generation it will be disastrous, for by then the changes will have spread to every mile of our highly populated island.”

Nan Fairbrother (1913-1971) was an eminent landscape architect, the author of influential books on landscape and land use. I am a little uneasy with the concept of landscape architect. Landscape is, for me, an interpretation that we place upon what we perceive, at a distance, be it hills, lakes, factories, fields, windmills, quarries, and so on. In this country any landscape has been shaped by us over the centuries – but not usually with the aim of pleasing me or you. A landscape architect is, I assume, concerned with designing a (therefore artificial) landscape to please somebody.

The words quoted above are from New Lives, New Landscapes (Fairbrother, 1972). I first saw the Ward’s Stone landscape in 1978, so it is now two generations, not one, on from then. Also, I could see much more than one mile of landscape, from White Hill over Mallowdale Pike and Ward’s Stone to Clougha Pike. I should therefore see today, according to Fairbrother, the disastrous result of changes since 1978.

So, what has changed? For a walker the main change is that the area above the pastures is now all open access and not out of bounds. There are more walkers along the ridge to the top of Ward’s Stone but very few tackle the rough, off-track terrain. Anyway, the open access status hasn’t affected the landscape, as seen from the track to Deep Clough.

The heather moors have been maintained as grouse moors, although perhaps less so in recent years. I haven’t noticed any heather burning recently. The shooters have upgraded the tracks for their 4x4s but that isn’t apparent from a distance. There’s also a shooting hut below Ward’s Stone which may not have been there in 1978. It too cannot be seen, unless the sun reflects off its roof.

What else? A memorial cairn has been added to the top of Mallowdale Pike but it cannot be seen from my vantage point, or indeed from anywhere except right next to it. Only two farms are in sight, Deep Clough and Haylot Farm. They have, no doubt, had some maintenance since 1978 but they look much the same to me. The wire fence to stop cattle and sheep straying onto the road is post-1978 (because I can remember that running here used to require some wariness about herds on and around the road). The small conifer plantations above Deep Clough have, I think, diminished or been left to fall down. I really cannot think of any other changes to this landscape in the last nearly fifty years. Of course, this is not to say that the present landscape is the ‘natural’ one. No doubt, all these crags and fields were once tree covered.

The Ward's Stone ridge

So, what are we to make of the words of Nan Fairbrother? We could simply say that she was wrong. That she was too alarmist and that the changes then underway were never going to be disastrous for the countryside. Or we could not take the ‘every mile’ literally and accept that the gist of her argument was correct in that a great many miles of our land have been ruined, if not the Ward’s Stone landscape.

Or perhaps it’s the case that her words of warning were heeded and the ruinous changes that she foresaw were never put into effect. Fairbrother was not alone at the time in seeking to ‘save’ our countryside. Bowland had been made an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (now called a National Landscape) in 1964 presumably with that objective. Although the designation has no legal powers to inhibit change, it has effectively done so through persuasion and education.

But not entirely so, for if we look in the opposite direction to Deep Clough and Ward’s Stone, we can see changes on Caton Moor, in particular, the windmills. This may be because Caton Moor is not typical Bowland land, as the Ward’s Stone area is, and may therefore be more easily sacrificed. If the AONB border had been drawn to exclude Caton Moor then nobody would have been surprised.

Caton Moor was not a grouse moor (and still isn't, although heather is beginning to spread there now that there are fewer sheep). The owner of the Ward’s Stone land, the Duke of Westminster, would have wanted to preserve his moors for grouse-shooting and would never have contemplated windmills there, although being 200 metres higher they would have been more effective than the Caton Moor ones. The present Duke, who inherited the title in 2016, is a keen shooter, representing Great Britain at international clay target competitions. Perhaps he is less keen on grouse shooting? Perhaps in fifty years time the next Duke won't want grouse moors.

It was too gloomy to drop down to the valley so instead I turned to walk back, into the wind and the rain. The latter eased. I was 60% dry by the time I reached home.

A look back to Ward's Stone

     Date: September 17th 2026
     Start: SD543644, Brookhouse (Map: OL41)
     Route: SE on Littledale Road, E on Roeburndale Road – track to Deep Clough – and back
     Distance: 6 miles;    Ascent: 260 metres
     964 +458 /2400

The two preceding items:
      258.   Randygill Top from Wath via Bowderdale
      257.   Himalayan Balsam on the Wyre Way
Two nearby items:
      116.   Are the Caton Windmills on their Last Legs?
      212.   The Moor the Merrier
A list of all items so far:
                Saunterings

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Top photo: Rainbow over Kisdon in Swaledale; Bottom photo: Ullswater