Summerhill Glen #OscarWalks is the first post Oscar and I have done for some time. We’ve been out for walks, of course, but I’ve been away a few times and Oscar had his little operation, which meant we’ve not been out and about around the island as much as we’d have liked. Needless to say, we’re going to be a bit limited for a while, but even close to home, there are some interesting places to go, and one of our favourite places for a daily walk is Summerhill Glen, which is only five minutes from our front door.
“Are we going down Summerhill Glen today, Mum? I love Summerhill Glen.”
“We are, Oscar, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to play with any other dogs at the moment. I doubt there will be many about.”
“No, it’s very quiet. I like the quiet, though. Not so many scary cars and lorries on the road. Easier to cross.”
Summerhill Glen has two entrances. The top entrance is on Victoria Road near Governor’s Bridge, and the main entrance is on Summerhill, just up from Douglas Prom. It was apparently originally named Glen Crutchery. The water from the river was used to provide power to a snuff mill on Strathallan Crescent, but the mill burned to the ground in the late eighteenth century. The road became known as Burnt Mill Hill, and then later, Summerhill from a mansion house at the bottom of Blackberry Lane.
In 1833, the glen was purchased by Douglas Waterworks to provide water for the first Douglas reservoir. The reservoir was still in use in the 1970s, to provide water for washing down the prom, but after a fatal accident, the reservoir was filled in although it is still possible to see where it was. The glen as we know it today was developed in 1932-1933 by young men aged between 18 and 22 on a ‘work for the workless” scheme. It was then leased by Douglas Corporation. Initially, there was a proposal to call it Waterworks Glen but this was rejected in favour of Summerhill Glen, which I personally think was a good decision.
Summerhill Glen is a beautiful little oasis close to the centre of Douglas, with a series of paths leading between trees and shrubs, alongside a stream with a little waterfall. In the 1980s a fairy grotto was created, and this has been upgraded several times since then, with carved wooden seats and illuminations during the summer season and at Christmas and Halloween.
“I didn’t like the Halloween lights, Mum. That dog.”
“You mean the Moddey Dhoo, Oscar? You got used to him.”
“I know. I don’t mind him now, but when I first saw him, with all that fog around the marsh, and that howling noise, he frightened the life out of me. Now, I just think he reminds me of old Toby.”
“Toby and Joey both loved this glen.”
“And who wouldn’t? There are trees and flowers and bushes and mud and water and ALL THE SMELLS!!!!!”
“There are also a lot of steps and it’s quite steep, Oscar, stop pulling.”
“Sorry. Got a bit excited. What’s that?”
“It’s a waterfall, Oscar.”
One of the advantages of the glen for us, is that we can walk down to the prom and the beach from home. It’s possible, during the summer months, to take the horse drawn tram from the bottom of the glen right down into town, which is a picturesque, if not particularly speedy way to get to the shops. Alternatively, we can just walk along the prom, or take Oscar onto the beach.
Spring is particularly lovely in the glen, with daffodils and wild flowers forming splashes of colour in the middle of the dense green of the vegetation. The main path is very good, although some of the side paths can get a bit boggy and slippery which can be an issue with an over enthusiastic labrador. Oscar has got so good on the lead now, though, that I don’t have to worry about him.
“What are those?”
“Cannon.”
“I’ve seen cannon somewhere else, haven’t I?”
“You have. There were some in the little fort on St Michael’s Isle. I believe these are here because there used to be some kind of fortification here as well, to defend this part of the island.”
“It’s a shame you can’t use them against this virus-thing.”
“Isn’t it just, Oscar? Right, are you ready to walk back up?”
“Yes. Can we look at the fairy doors?”
“We can. We should get two with Toby and Joey’s name on one day.”
“And mine?”
“Why not?”
“I like it down here at night, when it’s all lit up. Will that happen this year, Mum?”
“I don’t know, Oscar. It’s a bit different this year, they might not have the summer illuminations. But I think we’ll be back on for Halloween and Christmas.”
“Christmas was my favourite, it was like magic. I’m sure some of those lights looked like fairies.”
“They really did, Oscar. You tried to chase the moving ones. Beautiful. We’ll keep an eye out for the summer though, they might be back on around August time.”
The fairy doors throughout the glen were created by local schools, play groups and other organisations, and they give a real sense of magic to the glen. It’s a favourite activity for local children to run through the glen spotting new doors and reading out the names on them. Oscar always gives the ones he can reach a good sniff, but he takes them in his stride, unlike my old fella Toby, who always took exception to ANYTHING NEW on one of his regular walks. Over the years, in addition to the fairy doors, he was know to lose it with such disparate items as new rubbish bins, a new bus shelter, a statue of a pig in somebody’s front garden and a Christmas tree on the quay. Toby didn’t like change, whereas I think Oscar has a sense of adventure.
“Look Mum, it’s the big wooden thing.”
“You mean the tree carving, Oscar. Yes, it’s lovely, isn’t it?”
“I remember coming here when I was a puppy. I loved this tree, there are so many different carvings on it.”
“You were a lot smaller then, Oscar. You couldn’t get up onto this seat back then. Want to have a sit down?”
“Yes. This is such a cool seat. What’s that?”
“It’s an owl.”
“Really? Let me see. I like owls. I got an owl toy for my birthday, didn’t I? I love my owl. Let me see this one close up.”
“Right, let’s get home, Oscar. I need to get some work done.”
“Will Jon be there?”
“Yes.”
“And Anya?”
“Yes.”
“And Dad and Rachael?”
“Everybody’s working at home for a while, Oscar, they’ll all be there.”
“That’s great. You know, it’s a shame we can’t go far, Mum, but this lockdown isn’t all bad, you know… I think I’ll cuddle my owl when I get home and have a nap.”
“Sounds like a plan, Oscar.”
Oscar and I will be keeping closer to home for a while, but we’re looking forward to the challenge of finding some interesting places for #OscarWalks to investigate nearby.
Don’t forget that there are eight short historical fiction stories available here, which will give you a flavour of my writing and give you something to do during lockdown.
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Wellington Socially Distancing, is in no way intended to make light of the current situation. Nevertheless, we all have our own ways of coping with stress and something I often do to lighten a difficult situation, is to ask myself What Would Wellington Do? Usually, by the time I’ve come up with a scenario, I am a) laughing and b) feeling better.
Generally speaking, my posts tend to be related to history, historical novels or dogs, but given that the world around us has changed so much, so quickly over the past weeks, I thought I’d welcome you all to Social Distancing with Labradors, as Oscar has very definite views on what is going on around here.
And then there is Oscar. Walks are still happening, but we’re staying local and well away from other dog walkers and their pooches. We’re lucky enough to have very large gardens at front and back, so we can play fetch and chasing games. More importantly, there are five people here all the time, to play with him and sit with him and cuddle him. Oscar is doing all right.
“For me, I mean. I know you all like to go out or go away. But I like it best when you’re all here, with me. The girls haven’t got to go back to that University place for ages, and I get to sit outside with Anya every morning and curl up on the sofa next to Rachael every afternoon. I’m helping her with her work.”
“What about when I eat your books?”
Saltaire was built in 1851 by Sir Titus Salt, a leading industrialist in the Yorkshire woollen industry. Salt was a cloth manufacturer who took over his father’s textile business in 1833 and expanded it over a period of twenty years to be the largest employer in Bradford. He was an alderman and then mayor of Bradford, and was elected to Parliament in 1848. Salt’s business was spread between five different mills, and with business booming, he decided to build a new mill, consolidating his operations into one place.
Salt, a deeply religious man, and a known philanthropist, was concerned about the over-crowded conditions in Bradford so bought land in Shipley, just outside Bradford, beside the River Aire, the Midland Railway and the Leeds and Liverpool Canal. Building began in 1851 and Saltaire Mills opened in 1853. To accommodate his workers, Salt then commissioned housing close to the mill. A model village grew up, which included well-built houses, a hospital, bathhouses, almshouses and churches. The Congregational church, now known as Saltaire United Reformed Church, was built at Salt’s own expense and he donated the land upon which the Wesleyan Chapel was built. With the moral improvement and probably the work performance of his workforce in mind, he forbade public houses or beer shops from the village. The village had a public institute which included a library, a reading room, a concert hall, billiard room, science laboratory and a gym. There was also a village school, a park, allotments and a boathouse.
A surprising number of the original buildings survive, including the Institute which is now known as Victoria Hall, and the beautiful United Reformed Church. The houses are lived in and clearly much loved. Modern shops have moved in, and I was particularly entertained by a rather nice looking bar and restaurant, imaginatively called “Don’t Tell Titus” in reference to the founder’s refusal to allow alcohol to be sold anywhere in the village.