The Cow and Calf Rocks - Ilkley Moor 18th June 2014
Let's get the technical bit out of the way...
Around 325 million years ago, during the Carboniferous period, Ilkley Moor (it wasn't necessarily called that, then) was a swampy, sea level bayou, where cavemen would cook blackened catfish using a couple of twigs and a blowtorch. Then, over the years, lots of shit happened, sediments got compressed and formed the [sandstone] millstone grit rocks that we see today, whilst glacial erosion carved out the valley and chucked stuff around a bit.
Around 325 million years ago, during the Carboniferous period, Ilkley Moor (it wasn't necessarily called that, then) was a swampy, sea level bayou, where cavemen would cook blackened catfish using a couple of twigs and a blowtorch. Then, over the years, lots of shit happened, sediments got compressed and formed the [sandstone] millstone grit rocks that we see today, whilst glacial erosion carved out the valley and chucked stuff around a bit.
The Cow and Calf Rocks (otherwise known as Hangingstone Rocks) are so named because there is a big outcrop and a smaller boulder. Allegedly, there was a bull rock too, but it was quarried to build rich tory cavemen's houses or, something like that. No one has ever proved that, mind you, but there is a bloody big hole with rocks and shit lying around so, I guess that it could be so. Still, it's quite a nice story. Anyhoo, that's the sciency bit dealt with...
Have a look at the pictures, below.
Have a look at the pictures, below.
In 1966, when I was three years old, my parents elected to leave the sophisticated environs of Leek, Staffs, for the decadent fleshpots of West Yorkshire; Keighley, to be precise.
We used to come up here a lot; going for a drive on a Sunday was de rigeur in the days before MePads, Phobile Moans, and Rupert the Tumour's evil media empire. People used to go outside in those days...
I still love it around here. Wonderful view and the air is fresh and clean. Coming back here for the first time in almost forty years, I was astonished to find it completely unchanged. I hadn't expected erosion to have whittled the rocks down to Pebls but, I had expected some changes. I had thought some diabolical American corporation might have planted an artery-furring, heartattack-in-a-box emporium here, and installed moving pavements and escalators, to enable bovine tourists to see the sights without actually going outside or, you know, relinquishing the grip of their sausage fingers on their supersize aspartame-laden Rumsfeldade. I mean, it really isn't mobility scooter friendly, and people may have to encounter actual weather or, heaven forfend, perambulate.
But, like the Murphy's, I'm not bitter.
We used to come up here a lot; going for a drive on a Sunday was de rigeur in the days before MePads, Phobile Moans, and Rupert the Tumour's evil media empire. People used to go outside in those days...
I still love it around here. Wonderful view and the air is fresh and clean. Coming back here for the first time in almost forty years, I was astonished to find it completely unchanged. I hadn't expected erosion to have whittled the rocks down to Pebls but, I had expected some changes. I had thought some diabolical American corporation might have planted an artery-furring, heartattack-in-a-box emporium here, and installed moving pavements and escalators, to enable bovine tourists to see the sights without actually going outside or, you know, relinquishing the grip of their sausage fingers on their supersize aspartame-laden Rumsfeldade. I mean, it really isn't mobility scooter friendly, and people may have to encounter actual weather or, heaven forfend, perambulate.
But, like the Murphy's, I'm not bitter.
On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at
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'On Ilkey Moor without a hat', is the tale of a young man, who goes a-courting his young lady, Mary Jane (!) on Ilkey Moor.
MJ chastises him for his lack of appropriate headwear, given the chilly winds on the moor, insisting that he will die of exposure through his foolish fashion faux pas. Then, in true Yorkshire fashion, the logical progression is expressed that he will die, his rotting corpse will be eaten by worms, which will be eaten by ducks, which will, in turn, be eaten by the singers of the song. I'd love to hear Megadeth cover this. Dave Mustaine sounds good singing about death and worms and rotting corpses... 
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Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee, ah saw thee?
On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee, ah saw thee? Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee? On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at Tha's been a cooartin' Mary Jane Tha's bahn' to catch thy deeath o' cowd Then us'll ha' to bury thee Then t'worms'll come an' eyt thee up Then t'ducks'll come an' eyt up t'worms Then us'll go an' eyt up t'ducks Then us'll all ha' etten thee That's wheear we get us ooan back |
