Another point of view
Introduction
We recently received a heartfelt comment via our website from Eddie Roberts who used to live in Rossendale. Here he explains how much he loves the area and why wind turbines are a disaster for our environment and heritage. He also shared two poems by Ted Seagrave which lament the loss of wild life and tranquil open landscape.
Thank you Eddie, we really appreciate your thoughts.
Eddie’s Comment
I spent the best years of my life 1963-1993 living in Rossendale. During which the pioneering Groundwork team enhanced the local Environment and introduced the public to its delights through vision and expertise as well as events, particularly the programme of diverse Sunday walks organised by Arthur Baldwin. Many were led by John B Taylor who also instigated the 45 miles Rossendale Boundary Walk following his popular local Bacup Borough Walks and Rawtenstall’s annual ‘Round the Hills Walks’ that attracted hundreds of families to ENJOY the local ENVIRONMENT.
Remember the money raised, and time and effort put in by Rotary to lay tracks for those with wheelchairs in Grane and up a Hambleton Hill? Also the scrambler bike trails in the quarries, Hang-gliding, Fell and Orienteering races. From Layrock Choirs and Bacup’s Victorian pioneering Ramblers and Naturalists to the Edwin Waugh Society’s annual pilgrimages to the remote Well named after the dialect poet the Pennine Moors have drawn people from SMOG and Grime in to FRESH AIR.
The trees planted by school pupils in Grane Valley, including Hazels in Haslingden’s hedges have thrived, as have those with David Bellamy for BTCV’s Millionth Tree in the Pennines. He and Edwin must be turning their graves !
It saddens me to witness the desecration of Rossendale’s Environment.
I hope my ex-pupils who were on Haslingden High School’s ‘alternative Games’ walks had their eyes and minds opened to Rossendale’s natural and industrial history, as well as enjoying better HEALTH, and have passed on their experiences.
ENTHUSIASM is hard to inspire but quickly destroyed, like our unique LANDSCAPE.
Expert Warnings were ignored, the FUTURE is bleak! All for PROFIT at our COST.
Eddie Roberts retired to Liverpool, but left my heart in Rossendale.
Another Point of View
Where once rare Merlin, Twite and Dunlin nested,
where each Spring Golden Plover and Dotterel rested on migration,
where Wheatears bounced along drystone walls that Little Owls patrolled,
where Pipits flitted and Skylarks soared o’er Pennine peaty moors,
where loud Curlews called and Pewits swanked in hard-won fields,
NOW ranks of swirling turbines flay scudding clouds.
Steep access rakes have been replaced by hard-core tracks for heavy freight;
deep cut cable ducts disrupt land-drains that fed mill sykes.
Where flocks of wintering Buntings flew undisturbed on Hailstorm Hill,
NOW, with Protests bogged down in Law, flawed legislation has allowed
this priceless habitat to be lost … at Our Cost ! For Good ?
Whose Views are spoiled? Who gets the Spoils?
Ted Seagrave (3rd December 2016)
On Rooley Moor … Bar tat!
(In remembrance of John B. Taylor d.16.5.2010)
This well worn setted track created by
hard labour when mills or streams ran dry
in desperate Cotton Famine times
led to the Moorcock Inn clogged with folk
who met for laughter, dialect verse or Chartist chat,
or just to catch their breath and ‘grouse’
with ale in hand beside a warm peat fire.
Then smoking stacks protruded from the valleys
and church spires pierced the smog
as proof of Industry and Faith.
Down-trodden men once strode this monumental road
where wagons soon may roar o’er Rooley Moor.
Where Layrocks soared and Tewits courted,
returning Curlews stirred the heart;
Redshanks piped in fear of Merlin
while nesting Dunlin cowered amid the sedge.
Where twittering flocks of Twite and Pipit feed,
in harsh winters Buntings still found seed
and exiled Jack Snipe sprang from cover.
Here in Spring rare Dotterel rested on migration
along with gleaming stands of Golden Plover.
Where Wheatears danced on drystone walls
patiently built with skill and rack o’ eye
now ranks of restless turbines rake the sky.
Here J.B.’s annual Boundary Walks were started,
then weekly hiking groups sought peace of mind,
though orienteers discover mist filled delphs perplexing.
Here packs of hardy Harriers unwind in training,
and running clubs arrive from afar afield to race.
Here trekkers stride and strive to do the Round within a day,
the Bridle Way’s kept busy, and mountain bikers gain release.
At Rossendale’s heart and highest point by Top o’ Leach,
his sculpted cairn commemorates when forty years ago
five proud, distinct communities were merged,
here John B, a chronicler with vision, foresaw,
and sought to halt these moorland EYESORES.
These Quixotic machinations loom across the landscape
o’er Wilderness which working folk had prized.
Where keen-eyed botanists once carefully stepped
now heavy plant grind down the blanket bog
disrupting rivulets that powered our earliest mills.
This natural sponge stored torrential storms
protecting homes from flood while warming hearths.
The only ‘green’ about this scheme
is in the eyes of greedy profiteers
and those accepting ‘sweeteners’
from untendered generous deals between compliant,
powerful politicians and Energy’s rapacious giants.
(Ted Seagrave. 1.4.2014)