The fields and moors that stretch above the pretty Yorkshire Dales village of Grassington offer great walking and magnificent views. As I left the village and headed upwards, the vast network of stone walls created patterns across the landscape and sheep grazed in the fields. The higher I got the wilder the landscape became until, finally, I was standing amongst the bright heather and grasses of Grassington Moor.
At first glance it looks like any other moorland, but look closer and a dark and troubling history reveals itself. This vast moor was once home to one of Britain’s most dangerous industries: lead mining. It’s shocking that this tranquil landscape was for centuries the site of a massive industrial complex. The mining and processing of the ore have left deep scars across the moor.
Walking around the area you come across ruined buildings, ore processing works, mine workings, waste piles, pit heads, and an impressive water management system – all abandoned in the late 19th century. There’s a self guided route with information boards detailing the different historical phases of the processes that took place, and the purpose of each section of what is now a protected heritage site. It’s fascinating.
I knew that the area had an industrial past, but the scale and long history was a surprise. It covers a huge area and operated for three centuries. The first exploitation of lead was by the 4th Earl of Cumberland in the early 17th century, and the first processing mill was built in 1605. These early efforts mostly involved shallow mine shafts and small scale, almost artisanal, production. Only in the mid-18th century did things really industrialise.
That coincided with ownership passing to the 5th Duke of Devonshire. He expanded the mines, brought in new, modern techniques, and sank much deeper mine shafts. It was a massively lucrative enterprise and the Duke’s mines manager occupied a big house on the edge of the site. As I strolled around, I couldn’t help but think about the people who worked in what must have been pretty brutal conditions.
Lead is toxic and the miners and people working to process it must have suffered from lead poisoning. One job was especially dangerous. A network of flues runs across the site to a single, iconic chimney. The refining process from smelting produced gasses or ‘fume’ that deposited valuable lead residue in the flues. Workers regularly entered the horribly confined tunnels to scrape off the toxic lead deposits by hand.
It was a tough life and living conditions were said to have often been appalling for the men, women and children working here. In some areas there are what appear to be circular holes in the ground, these were mine shafts and the visible circle around the entrance – known as whim circles – were created by horses powering the winding gear in the mine shaft. They look almost alien.
It was a hot, sunny late April day yet I only saw two other people, a dog walker and a twitcher. The isolation created a sense that I was walking through the remains of an ancient civilisation long vanished, leaving only ruins and strange markings as a sign of what happened here. It was quite moving. Earlier in my walk I had passed an abandoned farm house. Rusting machinery from a different era was scattered outside.
This is Bare House, a farmhouse dating to the early 19th century and built around the same time as a lead boom driven by the 6th Duke of Devonshire. I nosed around the buildings and met an old man at the front of the house. He told me he had lived in the village for 50 years and walked here most days. The farm had always been abandoned as far as he could recall. We chatted and then I went on my way.
After visiting the far flung mining site, I followed a glorious trail alongside a small stream that leaves the lead mines and travels through Hebden on its way to the River Wharfe. At one time this would have been very polluted. It passes more mining ruins and crosses a classic packhorse route bridge. I walked along the river back to Grassington and a well deserved pint.
