White Water  - Lemonroyd

Sunday 9thJanuary, 2005 -   It was a fine day for walking and there were many, like ourselves promenading round the canal paths on the river Aire.   Approaching the footbridge over the weir we saw a small crowd on the bridge watching some activity in the water.  
There had been some heavy rain over recent days and the flow going over the weir was in fine spate creating a tumultuous turbulence that certainly captured the attention.    It had also attracted a young man in a snub nosed kayak who was demonstrating his clearly advanced ability in the sport for the benefit of the walkers.

After shooting down the bouncing waves he would skim the kayak back alongside the river bank to move into position at the foot of the weir.    Here the kayak seemed to defeat the  laws of motion as it remained still on station on top of what appeared to be a mill race.      It was explained afterwards that the cross undercurrent created the conditions for the craft  to remain still.
Good sport, including the disappearance of the canoeist who shortly turned a capsize into a spectacle for we mortals.   
It must have been one of the few times I was without camera – couldn’t get a picture.

Meanwhile, Mary was explaining to two of the watchers of my interest in the village when a passing cyclist overhearing the conversation asked if it was Bill Thackray.  To which Stuart  Webster a recent communicator to the web site took some shots including movie action with his mobile phone (I should have asked if it could make a cup of tea!) which I append to this article.     Many thanks Stuart.

Methley Lido

I suppose the people of Methley have used Fleet Beck for all manner of reasons over the years.    Its not difficult to remember the wartime trips with the whole of the street (Bondfield Terrace) walking down Fleet Lane to Primrose Valley, picnics with bottled tea on the bank and paddling in a sanded section of the beck for children.

The beck was always an attraction with jam jar fishing for sticklebacks and redbreasts, however the real attraction during the 50’s was the widened section at the side of a fallen willow tree which  formed both a bridge across and a diving board into the beck.

To make it deeper we would tear out the grass sods from the side of the beck and construct a dam about 15 yards downstream - still not deep enough!  wait while about one o’ clock, the day  shift at nearby Water Haigh pit were in the pit baths and all the hot soapy (mucky) water came as a torrent along a concrete gulley under the road, through the field and discharged into the  beck.    Deep enough now, and warm enough, and it didn’t cost a penny.   It was a great place for learning to swim before being introduced to the canal.   The water rats were always pleased when  we went home. Good thing was, you didn’t necessarily need trunks, or if it was really sunny you didn’t need a towel. (Les Austin, Barry Ingham, Terry Barrett, Pete Masterman and many others).

The next stage of development was the canal (Aire) and the two favoured places to swim were the bank at the bridge to the Fleet oil terminal.  Most could jump off the bridge, I only  remember Neil Seage daring to dive, although lots boasted to have done it.   Also popular was swimming from the bank at the donkey bridge which was over the cut into the Savile pit basin.     A marvellous wooden bridge where the draught horses towing the barges would cross the cut.   Swimming from this point gave access to the old river and then the floodlake and island between Methley and Astley.

The Island was a paradise for water bird egg collectors, as we could be in those days. However the recovery rate was very poor after swimming/wading the lake with its black velvet mud as  much as 3 feet deep, then the precarious crossings over the bank with nettles and briars to the river and then the canal in bare feet.   You’d be lucky if 4 eggs out of 20 survived the  journey..........can’t do it these days boys.......they won’t let you!

The Dog and Duck

It had been raining heavy both locally and in the Dales, the ground was waterlogged and the River Aire was in full spate. Oscar the springer spaniel was in his element working in the wetlands in the lea of the  floodbank running with his nose not one inch from the ground, stopping, sniffing into the air with his leading leg and docked tail erect in that typical pose of a  pointer dog. Then the dog would turn and lope to another position, sniff and use his paws to search for something.
On this day we were about 200 yards upstream from the Boat  (pub) at Allerton on the Methley side when I saw a mallard being brought downstream alongside all manner of flotsam. I was hoping the dog would not see the bird and would remain on  the blindside of the floodbank. Perhaps it was the flapping of wings, more likely the scent of fear that brought Oscar to the top of the embankment. The mallard with its distinctive colouring  was about 40 yards from the dog and by now paddling furiously past me. Oscar, seeing the duck, sped down the flood embankment and gave chase along the flood shallows on the  riverbank proper creating two arcs of spray - what a magnificent sight.      Why the mallard didn’t  head for the middle of the river or indeed fly, I’ll never know, but it was now clearly making for the false shelter of an overhanging bush which was normally 8 or 10 feet above water level but whose  lower branches were now under water. Well it made it, but to no avail because the dog hit the bush at pace and following a flurry of twigs and feathers Oscar scrambled up the bank against the  current with the duck in his jaws, he trotted towards me, sat on his haunches and offered me the still undamaged prey (springers have soft inner jaws which enable them to carry prey without causing damage).
Well what on earth do I do now!.... it was easy, I took the brightly marked prize from Oscar and with two hands hoisted it into the air where it did half a circle then headed off on the flight to  freedom - a marvelous feeling for both of us. However the dog was not impressed and he looked at me as if I had lost my marbles, then he turned gave himself a thorough shaking and me  a thorough soaking of stinking river water so that I was in no doubt as to his view of the undertakings ... Well that’s what I think.
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Floods Oct 2000  -  The article has now been withdrawn from the publication but can be viewed on request