Ludworth Tower - After Midnight

And it's more Astrophotography on a freezing cold, blustery night in County Durham. I finished work at 11.20pm and drove to Spider Towers to pick my brother up. We were heading over to Ludworth Tower - a fifteen minute drive from Gilley Law, Sunderland. The plan - to photograph Ludworth Tower under the stars. Aye it was well chilly, but we were well layered and prepared for a couple of hours out in the sticks. The beauty about this location, especially in sub zero temperature, is the privilege of sitting in the car as the camera works its magic. I dropped anchor at the kissing gate, where access to the tower is at hand. From there it's literally a 10 second walk to the tower. Once in position we set up our camera's and walked back to the car. We sat there for an hour or so, listening to the radio and keeping out of the cold. There's not too many locations where you're afforded that basic luxury when photographing the stars, but this was definitely one of them.

Ludworth is a pit village in County Durham, England situated between Durham and Peterlee. It consists of just over 350 houses in three main housing estates (Barnard Avenue, Moor Crescent and Springfield Meadows) and a few smaller streets. Ludworth has one post office, a school, a community centre and a printers. The village used to have two churches and a fish shop, most of which were destroyed in a fire. The public house of Ludworth has been closed for some years.
Ludworth Tower was originally a medieval manor house, founded by the de Ludworth family. In 1422, Thomas Holden added a rectangular pele tower, when he was granted licence to crenellate his manorial complex, by Cardinal Langley. The only surviving remains are the barrel-vaulted basement, the three storey west wall and fragments of a first floor spiral stair in the south wall. The remains can be seen located on the left as you are coming into the village from Shadforth.

As well as running off a start trail sequence I finished off with a single exposure of my brother Chris, standing on the ancient arch next to the tower. Here is both shots from that night ...

Cheers, AC

Twitching On Death Rocks, Northumberland

Hello again,

Welcome to another blog entry form the Roaming Mackem Photographer.

Today I'm gonna cover another outing with my camera - a recent visit to Dunstanburgh Castle, on a stunning stretch of coatline in Northumberland. The location is just over an hours drive from my home in Houghton le Spring, so that would give me time to wake up properly after a 5.15am alarm call after a night on the lager. I didn't have much of a hangover, to be honest, and nowt that a McDonald's breakfast wouldn't fettle. So a wash and a quick cup of coffee was in order, before hoying my gear into the car and heading out. The camera bag was organised and ready the night before, and all batteries fully charged. Nowt left to do but pick my brother up and head north out of God's Country. It was 6.15am and we were on the A1(M) - a straight road to our turn off, one hour up the road.

On arrival we dropped anchor near Dunstanburgh Steads, a small holding with surrounding houses, just south of Embleton. A dirt track reaches a dead end near a golf course, so we dropped anchor and I changed into wellies for the assault across Death Rocks and the outgoing tide. Another car pulled in next to us. A guy got out and we greeted each other with the obligatory 'Good Morning' salute. He saw me with my wellies on and asked if it was muddy where we were heading. I told him it was going to be very wet, hence the footwear, and he just laughed. I asked him if he was here to take photographs, which he was. I then asked if travelled far. He replied 'I'm from MANSFIELD' !!!   'Bloody hell' I replied ... 'You're keen aren't ya'. He then said he hadn't travelled from there, he was staying nearby for a few days. Oh well, that makes more sense, ha ha.

So, we headed off near sand dunes towards Death Rocks, laden with camera gear, tripods, drone, etc. Oh aye, the drone was along for the ride too. No show without Punch. We walked along the edge of the golf course towards the castle, which was far easier than negotiating the heavy sand dunes with all that weight on our backs. It was from here that I took a first good look at the dawn sky backdrop of the castle. After all, this is where my camera is going to be pointing towards, and also being the purpose of this morning's trip north. Plan A, to photograph the ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle @ Sunrise. Plans are never that straightforward though, are they? We can but try. But this particular plan involved a scramble across a rather tricky boulder field, known as DEATH ROCKS! Without further ado ...

After a ten minute walk across the golf course we headed down towards the sea, which was rolling in quite aggressively. Quite big waves were crashing in, which was a reminder that what was about to unfold was going to be no walk in the walk. This brings me nicely on to the title of this blog entry. Twitching, eh. Oh, he's gone out to look at sea birds through his binoculars, you said. Gulls, cormorants and Shags, you said. Ticking them off on a nerdy tick list with his little pencil, you said. Oh no, not in the slightest. You see folks, when I say 'Twitching' I refer to the actions of my arse. Yes, ya know when you're shitting bricks and sweating profusely at your actions? Well, that's what I'm talking about. This was nee chilled out stroll along the beach, whistling merrily with a smile on my face. It was more akin to walking across slippery rocks like Bambi on ice. Oh yes, I wish I could see myself. Is that really me? In my defence I hasted to add, these rocks aint called DEATH ROCKS for nowt. No doubt I was following in the footsteps of many a tog. I remember a fellow tog called Terry Cavner (from Blyth) being airlifted off the rocks by a rescue chopper, when he fell and broke a leg. Hopefully I wasn't about to do a 'Terry' me'sel!

I was in position on the rocks around 30 minutes before sunrise. As the tide retreated I found myself moving further out with it, as I wanted to catch some water movement when the sun finally showed up. A couple of other togs joined us, pitching nearby and both waiting for some nice colour in the sky. Just then a freak wave crashed in and around us, spilling over my welly tops and giving my feet a nice north sea welcome. The tripod stayed upright ... just! One of the blokes lost his tripod bag. I noticed it floating away with the receding tide. Unlucky eh. I was lucky myself. My camera bag was sat on a nearby rock when that wave came in. I managed to lift it up at the last second to avoid the wave. Now, that would have been messy ... and expensive! Get the bloody bag on your back, I told myself. Can't be dealing with another wave like that. Oh yes, me arse was twitching again. Bloody mad. The things ya do for a decent shot. Well that put paid to me pushing the envelope. I wasn't gonna move out with the tide, I was staying put - water movement or not. Guess I'll just settle for some rocky foreground and hope for some colour in the sky.

A few minutes later a hint of red showed up amongst the clouds behind the castle. That'll do nicely. A few minutes later there were nice red ripples spreading out, offering a great backdrop. Time to start shooting that scene in front of me. I was cold and very wet from the waist down, but what the hell, eh. Par for the course, I told myself, in a consoling way. In a flash the colourful sky had diminished and the sun was up behind Dunstanburgh Castle. By this time I had my shot in the bag, so it was another job done - time to get off those ghastly rocks. Bye bye, see you again soon ...NOT!

The wind had picked up quite a lot, so I decided not to send the done up. Maybe next time. All that was left to do was head back to the car and get those feet warmed up. Heaters on full pelt, off in a flash and back onto the A1(M). Not for lang though, as we stopped off at McDonalds near Alnwick, to refuel, so to speak. Hey that coffee and breakfast wrap was summat else. You better believe it. I felt like laughing when I was drinking that liquid life saving lotion that is hot coffee. Odd behaviour, granted, but when in a state of semi-hysteria, this is what happens to me LOL. Much needed, especially after freezing me balls off on a cold December morning by the north sea. I hope you like the photographic fruits of my labour. I think it was worth it. The sky could have been a lot worse, unlike those rocks and waves, but all part of the fun. A couple of weeks on and I'm glad to report that my arse has finally stopped twitching. It was an experience, to put it mildly. All in a days work of the Roaming Mackem Photographer. Until the next time folks ...

Be good, AC

(thanks to Chris Corr for 3 photo's of me, when the tide had backed off)

Groverake Mine, Weardale, County Durham

Welcome to another blog entry at ashleycorr.com

A few months ago I found out about an abandoned mine on the outskirts of County Durham. I asked my friend Wikipedia for a brief insight to Groverake and this is what he came back with ...

The Groverake mine site is pretty much located at the convergence of three major veins, Greencleugh, Groverake and Red. The Burtree Pasture vein also continues to this point.
Mining at Groverake probably started in the 18th century, but it was the Beaumont Company who first developed major mining operations at the site at the end of the 1810's and they continued working the mine until the early 1880's. They drove adits and the two major shafts on the site that reached the Great Limestone. At their time they where mining for lead ore, but this was not that successful in terms of output. When the Weardale Lead Company took over the mine in the mid 1880's they had more success with mining for lead and they also mined for fluorspar. The spar operations had problems in the removal of silica and this limited its success. The mine changed hands a number of times until the 1940's.

It was not until the Second World War when the Blanchland Fluor Mines Ltd took over operations and eventually British Steel Corporation that the production of fluorspar ramped up with improved treatment techniques. These companies took Groverake to being the leading fluorspar producer in the ore field. British Steel drove a new level and extended the existing shafts. The Rake level was re-driven to give access to the upper levels of the veins and the Firestone level driven for access to the lower levels. The Drawing Shaft was sunk further into the Great Limestone to a depth of 91m. The Whimsey Shaft was sunk to the Three Year Limestone to a total depth of 165m.

In the late 1980's the Weardale Minerals and Processing Company acquired the mine, but in 1991 its parent company went into receivership resulting in another change of hands. The mine was then operated by Sherburn Minerals and worked until 1999. At the time of its final closure, Groverake was the last commercial fluorspar mine operating in the North Pennines.

The site is approximately a one hour drive from my home, through the heart of County Durham and into the sticks that is the countryside of Weardale. There is still remnants of our mining heritage scattered around the county today, and the route to Groverake exposed quite a few ruins and reminders of yesteryear, which was fascinating to see. This was my first visit into Weardale with the camera, so I was quite excited to make some pictures of the area, especially Groverake Mine, which was the focal point of this visit. I drove through Stanley, Annfield Plain and Tow Law, before closing in on Frosterley, Eastgate and Rookhope. From here it was only a short drive to the mine, passing the ruins of Wolf Cleugh Farm, along the valley. We parked at the top of the valley that overlooks the site, which is dominated by the remaining winding gear, which was a rusting hulk of structure that had withstood the test of time.

As the site is public access, it was a simple case of undoing the latch on  the gate before walking down the bank and into an olde worlde existence, despite its desolation. You could almost hear a pin drop. I stood for a moment to reflect. I almost felt like I'd been transported back through the decades to a time when this place was thriving. I could almost hear the noise of workers and the smell of industry, the operation in full flow, just as it would have been. Horses and carts, bellowing chimneys on the nearby stone houses. Then I reminded myself for a split second ... of the death that happened in 1989, and my work was not done. It was almost a pilgrimage of sorts, a visit to understand what went on here and why it no longer operates. A sign of the times, let there be no doubt. Time stops for no man.

I explored the site for an hour or so, often sitting down and simply looking at what lay before me. I could here the loose corrugated metal rattling every time the wind got up, which added to the feeling that was quite sad in a way. The workers quarters stood to my left, minus a roof, plus a set of lockers. On closer inspection I noticed reminders of the past, including an old pair of steel capped boots, cigarette boxes, clocking in cards and a bash hat. Rafters above my head threatened to collapse at any given moment - that was obvious. Not wanting to become a victim, I got out of there and continued to explore. This place was going take more than one or even two visits to get around properly, so I took a few shots and made my way back to the car. It was indeed an eye-opener, a fascinating place steeped in mining history. I must return and return soon. Unfinished business!

Ash

Bamburgh Sunrise

Hello again.
Miserable weather today, which is no surprise on a weekend after you've been grafting your arse off on the days leading up to it. Ah well, the camera stays in the bag and out comes the laptop. It's update time once again at ashleycorr.com.

By contrast, this blog entry features some recent sunrise shots that have plenty of colour in them, unlike today's flat sky that I see out of the living room window. This Winter sunrise outing that had me travelling north up the A1 on a very cold January morning. It was a 5am alarm call that started the day. I was hopeful of a good sunrise, as I was about to begin the round trip of 130 miles. I've only done a couple of sunrises at this location and I was luck both times in the past, so three in a row would do very nicely. Sooner or later I would fall victim of the false dawn, so I had my fingers crossed that it wouldn't be on this occasion. A long way to go for a big fat nowt! One hour and fifteen minutes up the road and I was soon dropping anchor at Stag Rock, next to Bamburgh Beach. The sky looked promising, as I looked south down the beach towards Bamburgh Castle and noticed the first warm hue on the horizon. From the parked car it was literally a short walk down the sandy bank onto the beach, eventually settling for a spot near the rocks. Foreground interest was the first thing on my mind and I also observed the incoming tide so that no unnecessary soakings took place. I've had a few of them in the past and didn't wanna go back down that route, even though I was decked out in me new £12 wellies from B&Q. I don't get too bothered about getting soaked, to be honest, I'm more concerned about the camera keeping dry, especially after the kicking my old 5D2 got on the rocks at St. Mary's Lighthouse. Once bitten, and all that.

The tide offered plenty to the shots as I fired off my first few frames. The cascading water had to be the main player in the foreground. Not much point of doing a seascape with little or no water action going on. The tide did breach me wellies on more than one occasion. It was only then that I really started to feel the cold. Toes were like ice. A few of the fellow Tog brigade were positioned ahead of me but they never really got in the way, so the clone tool in Photoshop wasn't called upon for the selection of shots you see here. In fact, all three efforts are pretty much straight of camera, with only a very minor levels adjustment on each. After 15 minutes of shooting, the tide had dropped back noticeably, so with it I went, repositioning myself to include the blurred motion of the North Sea. The sun was up in no time but was obscured by the low cloud cover. After a few more minutes the magic had gone. By this time I'd already bagged the shots and was quite chuffed that it was another successful long journey. I couldn't help but notice the heart shape bubbles that drifted past on the surface of the water (shot 3). Maybe this shot should be entitled 'Love on the rocks.'

From here it was back up to the car and time for a coffee and a few chocolate biscuits. Off with the wellies and on with the heaters. Time for the journey south - job done.

Until the next time...
AC