Ribblehead is one of Yorkshire’s most iconic spots. From the immense railway viaduct to the towering peaks of Ingleborough and Whernside, few areas of the Yorkshire Dales National Park can boast such an array of breathtaking views.
On a wintery morning in December, I caught the train from Leeds to explore the tracks and trails around Ribblehead. From brave hikers dressed as Santa to snow-covered trees frozen in time, this is what I found.
Snowy scenes and foggy views at Ribblehead train station
The air was perfectly still. I was alone on the platform. The train doors slid shut behind me, and the three carriages creaked as they set off. Within seconds, the taillights disappeared into the thick winter fog. Silence descended.
Fresh snow crunched underfoot as I headed to the station’s exit. Ribblehead train station is ideally located in the very heart of the Yorkshire Dales, offering direct access to the area’s most spectacular sights. Often used by hikers seeking adventure in the wilderness of the National Park, today, it stood empty.
A rough farm track leads the way from the station. To the left stood the old Station Master’s House. Now operating as a holiday cottage, its windows were dark and dusty. The snow surrounding the front and rear doors was undisturbed. Nobody was home.
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Ribblehead Viaduct frozen in snow and mist
Just a two-minute walk from Ribblehead train station is the mighty Ribblehead Viaduct. Constructed between 1870 and 1874, the viaduct is widely considered to be one of the most remarkable feats of railway engineering anywhere in the UK. Despite its fame, the viaduct’s construction came with a heavy human toll – over 100 workers lost their lives during the project.
Today, the viaduct boasts 24 arches that stretch an impressive 32 metres into the sky and has become a symbol of the Yorkshire Dales National Park.
A delightful sight on a summer’s day or as a backdrop for a spectacular sunset, the viaduct was altogether more foreboding in the oppressive haze of this wintery morning. On this morning, it made for a bleak landmark.
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Hardy hikers tackle the snowy Yorkshire Dales
Despite the conditions, a handful of brave souls were setting off to tackle the trails around Ribblehead.
The peaks of Whernside and Ingleborough hid behind thick banks of paper-white cloud. However, this did not deter a group of festive summit-seekers from their quest to conquer the snowy peaks.
Dressed, without exception, as Santa Clause, the gang were in high spirits as the refrains of ‘Jingle Bells’ blasted out from a portable speaker. Amplified by the oppressive atmosphere and the cauldron of snowy slopes, the music carried on the faint breeze that began to blow.
Others stuck to low-level routes. In twos and threes, the small clusters of hikers disappeared into the wintery landscape for a day of winter walking.
As the morning wore on, I caught a distant view of a lone walker trudging wearily across a snow-covered field. The cloud bank had descended almost to ground level, offering only the faintest glimpse of the limestone pavements that stretch across Ingleborough’s lower slopes.
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Lone trees add to the atmosphere at Ribblehead
Following the trails towards Ingleton, the routes offered fleeting views of lone trees in adjacent fields. Gnarly trunks gave way to branches stripped bare of any leaves. A thin coating of fresh snow clung on, undisturbed by the blowing of the wind or the infrequent passing of sheep.
Accompanying the trees, a criss-cross pattern of dry-stone walls stretched across the landscape. Some stretches looked brand new, the result of hours of hard toiling by local farmers. Others had collapsed, unable to bear the weight of decades spent exposed to the Yorkshire elements.
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Stoic sheep brave the cold
No matter where you walk in Ribblehead, you will never be too far from a herd of Yorkshire sheep. The iconic Swaledale breed is an unmissable symbol of the National Park, which is home to hundreds of herds.
It didn’t take long for the first handful to emerge through the fog. Following an icy farm track, dozens more were clustered across the fields. Many huddled together or sheltered from the increasingly biting breeze beside walls and behind rusting troughs.
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Three particularly brave sheep trotted across my path. They paused in unison and turned their heads towards me, blinking confusedly as if trying to make sense of my presence. Within seconds, they continued onwards, nonplussed.
As the walk came to an end, I passed a young couple making their way gingerly along the slippery path towards the viaduct. We shared a nod and exchanged pleasantries. As I glanced back, their figures had already begun to slink away into the wintery haze. The viaduct had completely disappeared.
