Snow brought the longest ever night for old Dolly Gill (From Craven Herald)

Snow brought the longest ever night for old Dolly Gill

12:50pm Friday 23rd December 2011 in Craven History

Craven has experienced its share of white Christmases down the years, but the history books show that the snowstorms of bygone times were far worse than anything experienced more recently. Adrian Braddy found out about two winters when conditions were particularly bad.

Children – and old romantics – may be dreaming of a white Christmas, but many Dales residents dread the arrival of wintry conditions.

The geography of Craven ensures we are no stranger to snow storms and white Christmases do seem to have become rather more common in recent times. However the snowfall of the past two winters does not come close to the severity of the storms of bygone years.

The Gentleman’s Magazine and Historical Review of 1857 reported that Craven experienced a white Christmas that year, but there was little to celebrate.

Under the headline “Great Snowstorm”, it reported: “The moors of Yorkshire have been visited by one of the most severe storms of wind and snow experienced in that locality for a very long period.

“The storm set in on Christmas night with severe frost and a heavy downfall of snow.

“In the neighbourhood of Skipton its effects are very disastrous and they have been experienced with more or less severity throughout the whole of the Craven district, in which the farmers have sustained serious losses.

“The high prevailing winds drove the snow like an avalanche before them, and the sheep have had to be dug from drifts three and four yards in depth. One farmer, who had nearly 500 sheep out, has scarcely recovered a tithe of them alive.

“On the Conistone Moor 30 sheep were taken out dead from one of the drifts; on Embsay Moor nine were found huddled together in a similar hole; on Cracoe Fell a large number were either smothered in the snowdrifts or frozen to death; indeed, throughout the whole neighbourhood similar disastrous losses have been experienced by the farmers.”

There are tales, of varying accuracy, of even harder winters, dating from many years before this.

In Bailey John Harker’s Rambles in Upper Wharfedale, published in 1869, the author describes one such storm and its impact on one woman, who lived by herself on the hills outside Grassington.

“If you will walk with me to Lea Green, I will take you to where the remains of ancient houses were discovered a short time ago, by Mr John Downes; among the debris was found a millstone, which had undoubtedly been used to grind corn by the hand.

“There is a tradition that Old Grassington used to stand here, but how far it may be true I am not prepared to say,” Harker wrote.

“The last house that was inhabited is said to have stood in Kimpergill, at the foot of Kimpergill Hill, which is on our right hand. This house is reported to have been occupied by an old woman of very eccentric habits, whose name was Dolly Gill. She wore a red cloak, and there were people living a few years ago who could tell strange tales about her.

“I will give you one that was told me by a person who professed to be an authority in such things. During a severe snow storm, poor old Dolly had the misfortune to have her house (which was probably only a very low one) drifted over.

“This storm was one of the greatest that has ever been known in the neighbourhood, the fall of snow being in some places several yards in depth; all the roads were blocked up, and had to be opened out with the spade, to which work the rustic inhabitants went with good will; but the old woman in her lone cot under the hill was forgotten, and for a considerable time left to her fate.

“She happened, however, to have a good store of provisions by her, and to this she did ample justice; when hungry she rose from her bed and supplied herself with food and then went back to rest, waiting, as she thought, for the morning, but it delayed its coming.

“The light was not able to penetrate the obstruction at the window; she wondered again and again what could be the matter, but deluded herself with the thought that it was still night, and calmed her fears as best she could.

Happily some person bethought himself that she had been overlooked, and said, in the Wharfedale dialect, ‘Whativver will owd Dolly be doing amang aw this snaw?’ “This awakened the curiosity of his neighbours, and one answered, ‘Let’s gan an see.’ They then started off, saying among themselves, ‘Whativver hev wa been doing ta forgit her?’ they found it a difficult matter to find the whereabouts of her house. ‘Hi gow,’ says one, ‘It’ll be a job if wa can’t find it’; but by and by they came on the ‘pad’, and following it soon found the object of their search.

After having removed the snow from the door, they roused the inmate of the dwelling by knocks and shouts; at the first they were afraid she was dead, but their fears were soon allayed by her shouting out ‘Weas thear?’ Dolly thought the ‘roughs’ of the town were amusing themselves at her expense; but by much persuasion she was induced to open the door, and then she was told of the dangerous plight in which she had been, and in simple but grateful strains she thanked her deliverers for their kindness, and gave vent at times to language like the following: “A barns, I thout it nivver wad be morning; I been up monny and monny a time, but it nivver seemed as if it wad be leet; i’ts t’langest neet at ivver I spent i’ mi life’.”