As ever - finding them was the challenge with the road accesses nearby rarely featuring in my sat nav. The first near Oxenhope was the trickiest and required a re-tracing of steps. The Mist Stone is again near a quarry,sandstone this time. A very muddy walk took us through grassy mounds to a well worn and split stone. Carved in sight of the Brontes the words of this poem were:
MIST
Who does it mourn? What does it mean, such
nearness, gathering here on high ground
while your back was turned, drawing its
net curtains around? Featureless silver screen, mist
is water in its ghost state, all inwardness,
holding its milky breath, veiling the pulsing machines
of great cities under your feet, walling you
into these moments, into this anti-garden
of gritstone and peat. Given time the edge of
your being will seep into its fibreless fur;
You are lost, adrift in hung water
and blurred air, but you are here.
©Simon Armitage 2010
After the customary Sue pose it was time to walk back to the car and seek our next stanza- The Dew Stones.
It was near Silsden and we happened just about perfectly on the right lay by to park up. The walk however was another tough one , uphill and through a field newly spread with cow muck!
The forest of course had been cleared making this one of the most disappointing stone walks we had done in terms of scenery.
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| Forest trail! |
Dew
The tense stand-off
of summer’s end,
the touchy fuse-wire
of parched grass,
tapers of bulrush and reed,
any tree
a primed mortar of tinder,
one spark enough to trigger
a march on the moor
by ranks of flame.
Dew enters the field
under cover of night,
tending the weary and sapped,
of summer’s end,
the touchy fuse-wire
of parched grass,
tapers of bulrush and reed,
any tree
a primed mortar of tinder,
one spark enough to trigger
a march on the moor
by ranks of flame.
Dew enters the field
under cover of night,
tending the weary and sapped,
©Simon Armitage 2010
lifting its thimble of drink
to the lips of a leaf,
to the stoats tongue,
trimming a length
of barbed-wire fence
with liquid gems, here
where bog-cotton
flags its surrender
or carries its torch
for the rain.
Then dawn, when sunrise
plants its fire-star
in each drop, ignites
each trembling eye.
©Simon Armitage 2010
Our next Stanza Stone was but a short drive leading us near to Ilkley moor. The sun got out at this time and the light was much better. Heather was being burned across the moors and the grouse were flying past us in fright. A longer but easier walk took us over Yorkshire stone footpaths , past the wireless station on the moor, past the Thimble Stones and on to the Puddle Stone. A lovely walk undertaken totally bah tat!
PUDDLE
Rain-junkSky-litter
Some May mornings
Atlantic storm-horses
clatter this way,
shedding their iron shoes
in potholes and ruts,
shoes that melt
into steel grey puddles
then settle and set
into cloudless mirrors
by noon.
The shy deer
of the daytime moon
comes to sip from the rim
But the sun
likes the look of itself,
stares all afternoon,
Its hard eye
Lifting the sheen
from the glass,
turning the glaze
to rust.
Then we don’t see things for dust.
By now we were peckish and needed lunch. Decisions were made to get to Ilkley, grab a bite to eat and then find the last Stanza Stone, the Beck Stone. This one should be good we thought as it is in the middle of the beck and one of the shortest walks.. After parking near Craiglands we headed off uphill amongst the gorgeous ferns and changing leaves.
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| Better signed than most |
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| All uphill! |
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| And there it was... |
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| Feet either side of the beck to get the shot |
The Beck
It is all one chase.Trace it back the source
might be nothing more than a teardrop
squeezed from a Curlew’s eye,
then follow it down to the full-throated roar
at its mouth - a dipper strolls the river
dressed for dinner in a white bib.
The unbroken thread of the beck
with its nose for the sea
all flux and flex, soft-soaping a pebble
for thousands of years, or here
after hard rain, sawing the hillside in half
with its chain. Or here, where water unbinds
and hangs at the waterfall’s face, and
just for that one, stretched white moment
becomes lace.
©Simon Armitage 2010
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| All downhill from here |
Thanks a bunch Countryfile!
Countryfile showed us the way
To visit the Stanza Stones
A sponsored walk would do us good
Great for our lungs and bones.
We`d drive a bit and keep walks short
Feeling non too hardy
Lovely and warm, no need for coats
Not even for a cardi.
If only we`d known they`d be uphill
Through cowpats, wet and clarty
We`d have stayed at home and snuggled up
Staying fit and hale and hearty.
Seriously, we`de never heard of the Stanza Stones before and it was nice to go off walking with a purpose and nice to do the whole set. Try the walks for yourself or why not do the whole 54 mile stretch on foot! Let us know how you get on.
