Cow Dale, Yorkshire Wolds.

17th April, 2021.
 

 Wolds Virtual Exhibition is now live

After exploring a walk to a hidden valley twixt Wetwang and Fridaythorpe I found myself again, at Brubberdale. Walking the dark lush valley floor I reached the confluence with Cow Dale on my right.  I was carrying my pochard box with the notion of perhaps painting Cow Dale, however the weather was sunny and hot, too hot for George to sit without shade so I decided to carry on, but not before he had had a long drink from a nearby trough. I had noticed a little earlier that the upper, steep hillside contained sporadic hawthorn bushes, quite large, which were casting shady, sedentary places for a dog to sit and lie down. Carrying on along the valley, which begins to twist and turn,  I reach a stock fence, on the hillside, behind a fence a stilted, cuboid bird hide had been set up, and I thought of Robert Fuller. 

Looking to my left I craned my neck, the hillside rose sharply, after a moment pondering I started to climb. This equaled anything in the Lake District I thought, the tussocky grass making it hard work. I had to  grab the fence at times and kept stopping though a voice in my ear urged me to carry on and take smaller steps. The ascent was rapid and before long I had climbed thousands ...well, a hundred and fifty feet, at least. At this time the hillsides are empty, no sheep or cattle, their absence and the still quietness reinforcing a feeling of solitude. We stop at the more gently sloping top, sit down gaze towards the  valley bottom, now hidden by the curve of the hill. Looking to my left the curving valley emerges and I see a couple with a dog, they look tiny, and I feel as if I am a buzzard soaring. George and I sit, rest and share sandwiches. Then, after a short time we walk along the gently descending ridge, heading back towards the road, checking for a suitable view. Then I see Cow Dale open up, it is too straight, so I carry on and see, below me,  a small hawthorn tree clinging to the steep hillside. Dropping down a few feet I secure George and set up, ready to paint. Something isn't right, I see another stunted hawthorn, quickly relocating, this is better. As I paint I notice a dot at the end of Cow Dale, binoculars revealing it to be a deer. It turns to face me becoming linear,  so I add it to the painting. Then it lies down on it's side, like a horse, and suns itself, content, unaware of any danger, it is a beautiful sight. I paint on. Then the deer is up and running, it runs up the hillside where it has joins three more deer, until now hidden. What had scared them? I hear pee-whiting lapwings  and pheasant karrr..king. Then I see what has disturbed them, two women, with a pale coloured dog are walking the ridge, behind a fence. I stop and follow the deers' progress with my binoculars, they head for a wooded corner which provides some cover. They settle, eventually following the fence line to the Valley bottom, they run across Brubberdale and disappear. 

The shadows are moving quickly now, the sun dropping quickly so I speed up. George suddenly sits up, completely focused on something behind me. I turn but see nothing, perhaps the deer were passing. The shadows begin to blacken tussocks, dotting the hillsides and I have a thought. Moles. There are plenty of mole hills, speckled calcareous white, on the valley floor. Seeing the molehills makes me smile, these must be very hardworking moles, having to be mining engineers, mole hills I see at home are simple smooth and brown made of fine soil.  Perhaps the tussocky hillsides are derived from molehills, the tussocky grass being grown on them. Perhaps the hillsides contain an ancient mole city, a mole dynasty, may be they are a hidden resource for archeologists.......but I am getting carried away. I look up a see that four deer are now back at the far end of Cow Dale grazing, though not the same ones I had seen earlier. I need to stop painting. It is just past George's dinner time so I pack up and we cautiously set off towards the distant trough speck back on the valley floor. Carefully, zig-zaggedly traversing the hillside, we are soon treading level ground back to the car.