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A Lead Mine, 2 Herons, an Old Man, a Garden Party and a Derelict House

Can you remember seeing as a child those Wild West films when your favourite cowboy rode into a ghost town and that weird feeling that you had of emptiness and desolation? I remember as a young teenager going to a LEAD MINE on the Pennines in Cumberland where my grandfather worked as a miner. It had ceased to operate several years before. We visited the huge sheds where the rock had been ground, washed and processed to extract the lead.

At the entrance to the mine from the road just to the right runs a beck called the Blackburn, and alongside it, near the bridge over the river was “Mill Cottage” my grandfather’s home. My mother Marion grew up here in the tiny hamlet of Leadgate.

We saw the entrance to the mine with the train lines disappearing into the darkness of the mountain. The heavy old pit doors had been closed - the mine was unsafe. The tunnel into the mine had been carved out of the rock of the hillside and was dripping ... (continue by reading the document below)

Graham Gordon,
18 Apr 2017, 02:42