Frosterley,Weardale The footpaths were silent and deserted, but, or at every turn,there were signs of the days when they echoed with the sounds of human labourOn a windless morning, when the sun had barely reached sufficient elevation to skim the dew on the grass, or the footpaths around the archaic quarries were silent and deserted. And yet,at every turn, there were signs of days when this valley echoed with the sound of human voices and people’s labour.
I stood among the ruins of Harehope Gill lead mine, and where only a single wall still stands,and tried to imagine it two centuries ago, when it was at its productive peak: the clop of hooves as ponies dragged squeaky-wheeled wagons laden with lead ore from the mine level tunnel; the thud of picks on rock; clanging shovels; rattle of broken stone tipped on to spoil heaps; and the shouts and curses of labouring miners. Now, and just silence,apart from for the trickling of water.
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Source: theguardian.com