A beck

The footbridge crossing, with old, gnarled hawthorns guarding the beck 

looking back towards the fells 

the ford across the road 

Frogs mating in a small stream that was culverted from under the road 

looking in the other direction 

I have no name for this beck, ( apparently beck is an = English stream, a brook with a stony or rugged course. It is middle English) but it was set in a beautiful place and blissfully free from any other cars.  If you continued along the lane over the ford you would eventually arrive in Pickering but of course could not go across Holcrum Hole which was further on.  We had come to it over Murk Mire Moor, an elegant description of this moor with its stones set alongside the road, maybe because when the snows fall over the moors the tips of the stones would protrude to guide you on your way.  It also had grouse butts for shooting and black grouse (they were the ones that got shot of course) as well but that is for later on....

This stopping place is very tranquil, one lone motorbiker taking in the scenery, LS talked to him but my attention was taken by the frogs mating, about a dozen, stirring the clay into a milky orange water, the water of the beck itself is brown, cold and clear.