Mike wrote a post on the environment:
… and on an MoD eyesore at Fylingdales:
… but not on some of the other little beauties hidden away up there. 🙂
Anyway, that’s not a long way away from the Legendary Saltersgate Inn, a notable landmark written up in my book which few have read nor ever will:
In the chapter called North, the anti-hero takes a Russian operative north to escape the baddies and this ensues:
Next they drove through the sleepy villages of the Esk Valley and onto the moors road, taking them to ‘The Legendary Saltersgate’.
He waited for the inevitable – why legendary – and had to admit he’d forgotten most of it but they’d ask the landlord. The road led onto a long, high ridge between two valleys and then, there was the pub in front of them in the distance, commanding spectacular views across the valley.
‘This is a postcard,’ she whispered and he smiled.
Once inside the place, the publican came from around the bar, huge hand extended, a meeting of long lost brothers. Hugh immediately ordered XB.
‘Nope,’ said the publican.
‘XB’s rubbish today. Try the Camerons.’
‘Try the Camerons today.’
A pint and a half of Camerons was brought to their table, not too near the fire, together with a bowl of nuts they hadn’t even ordered. Hugh was grinning from ear to ear and she was studying him. ‘You ordered XB Hugh. How can he tell you no?’
‘The man’s an expert. If he says it’s Camerons today, then Camerons it is. He has the cleanest pipes in Britain.’
‘Pipes, trubichki, you know – where the beer passes along. Right – stay here and let me buy some more nibbles.’ A conversation ensued with the publican, both grinning, then Hugh came back. ‘The publican’s going to take us … downstairs,’ he concluded, mysteriously, ‘and he doesn’t do it for everyone.’
‘I’m not even going to ask.’
Richard came over and asked if they were ready but Hugh asked first about the legend which, to be fair, was written up on a sign but he just thought it would sound better from the man himself.
Richard explained, ‘The legend is that there were some smugglers hiding out here at the pub, back in the mists of time, an exciseman got too close, he was bumped off and the body was buried beneath the fireplace. They have to keep a fire eternally burning so that no one will ever look underneath. Even in the middle of summer, that fire’s still going.’
‘You guys make the most of your history, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he smiled in reply. ‘When it’s interesting, why not?’
Most of that happened to be true and many was the hour spent in that pub. In this environmentally friendly Britain, so they’d have you believe, this was a site of legendary significance but apparently would not rake in the shekels for anyone in the various agencies:
For over a decade the inn, once a smugglers’ haunt on the Pickering to Whitby road, was a well known building with many fond memories.
In 2007, the pub closed and was bought in 2008 by a local builder. However, it fell victim to the financial crash in 2008 which stopped re-development plans. The plans to turn the famous building into a hotel never resumed and it was once again put on the market.
In 2016, Saltersgate Inn was bought at auction with the hopes to transform it back into the landmark which it once was.
The inn, near the Hole of Horcum, is famous for its smuggling history and was renowned for its peat fire which had burned continuously for over 200 years until the pub closed.
Legend has it that an officer who caught smugglers was buried underneath the fireplace and it was claimed that if the fire was ever extinguished his ghost would come back and seek revenge for his death.
The authority which could have halted that or backed it was North York Moors National Park Authority, an iffy organisation at the best of times, and greedy.
In the early 90s, a Dutch company bought the rights to clean cut the heather and take it back home to apparently stuff dyke walls but the locals were up in arms.
The locals, by the way, were those and their gamekeepers who rode in the hunts and so on. So we get this disconnect – the traditional idea was that the loony environmentalist and animal cruelty protester would frighten the horses and so on [List of Adrian Messenger] but truth was – the most environmentally conscious was the Tory-voting Sir Henry at Rawlinson End.
Grouse shooting of course features in all this – yummy food when done right by gastronomes.
As one gamekeeper explained to me, actually showed me on’t’moor – if you cut the heather in a certain way, it does not grow back for a decade, if at all; if you burn off, it regrows straight away.
That was my first true inkling that what was protecting the area was doing it selectively … for money … and damn the environment. It was under the Duchy of Cornwall by the way, an interesting exploration in itself.
Anyway,I started to explore the wind turbines, wind farms allowed on the NYM and there are still apparently none within the park, though there’s a monstrosity off Bridlington, out to sea.
And though that was not too bad – powerful people stymying wholesale development on the moors – when I started looking at the various agencies involved and where the money was coming from to carry out ‘environmentally friendly’ policies, these were no longer local landed folk but a plethora of agencies.
In this comment:
… Pcar mentions ‘The Political Monster! Like Hydra, cut off one head & two grow back.’
First stop was an agency involved in development of the area:
… and by a process of exploration, it appears they went bust:
… having once been the major environmental consultancy in the UK by their own blurb, they appear in here:
Some more on the bust:
When you start to explore the administrator, you find:
… and how BGF was a huge money-spinner:
… and they plunged money in to prop up this ADAS, but BGF itself metamorphosed and the official company taking over ADAS merged in India:
… under an interesting person who has no profile anywhere, even in their own literature:
The big money behind this was firstly:
… connected to:
The sun motif again. They have a finger in many pies around the world, for example:
pension operations of the Commonwealth Bank of Australia
In World War II, the gold reserves and securities of several European countries were secretly moved to the Sun Life Building for safekeeping. A persistent rumour that the Crown Jewels of the United Kingdom were illegally shipped out of the United Kingdom during WWII and stored there was deliberately spread in Montreal to account for increased activity at the building.
Sun Life is a most interesting conglomerate to explore and as you’d guess, being headquartered in Canada, they are in with:
… at which point, I needed breakfast and couldn’t be bothered anymore but some of you might.
I uncovered nothing illegal on that quick run through but the international interconnections show the money trail which fuels the environmental
rack business models – Gaia is big business.
Which takes us back to Kyoto and this:
One day, it might be interesting to explore uber-pixie Caroline Lucas and her connections.
So at the moment, while Boris’s appearance in court dominates the headlines, meanwhile the real ownership of the nation quietly goes ahead and is international in organisation, hence the powerful Remain sentiments.
Heritage or environment – The Legendary Saltersgate in all its glory: