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Saturday 27th May. It was Cup Final Day. There was excitement in the air. Well there probably was 238 miles to the south where Chelsea were preparing to meet Arsenal, but there was no visible outward signs of football fever in a small North Yorkshire market town. The Wearside Shipowners Charity Cup Final isn’t something you would associate in this inland, rural spot. As a relatively new outpost of the Wearside League, Richmond Town, were possibly not what was envisaged as potential trophy winners in a League predominantly based around Sunderland. The opposition, Cleator Moor Celtic, hail from across the hills in Cumbria. They once hit the heights of the FA Cup First Round in 1950. Today was one of the shortest journeys of the season for Cleator Moor – a not to be under-estimated round trip of less than 200 miles. I set off to explore town.
Richmond is a place I have visited on a number of occasions, but only once in recent years. We used to be dispatched to the town and the hinterlands in the later educational years, in order to conduct geography field trips. I was going say I spent many a happy
hour, although that isn’t really an appropriate description for wandering round in the pouring rain discovering the delights of river erosion, transportation and deposition. Swaledale can be a damp, miserable place. The highlights of the physical geoography field trips were the hours spent drying out in the pubs of Reeth, further up the valley. Richmond also registered on the human geography scale too. A market town with a relatively small population, it had assembled a disproportionate level of services and shops for the size compared with the much larger suburbs and dormitory towns on Teesside. I surveyed the Market Place today and made the visible assessment that apart from the coffee sector, the last 30 years had not been kind. The view was somewhat obscured by a rather irritating and loud fair that had descended on town. In a generally up market setting, it seemed out of place. The thought of sitting in the sun on the terrace outside the Kings Head having a drink and listening to some club music booming out from the waltzers had not filled all with dread. The terrace was packed.
Richmond was named UK Town of the Year 2009. An addition
to sign on the place name at the edge of town should say as much. It didn't, which surprised me. I note with interest that this seems to be an Urbanism Award for the UK and Ireland and rates towns and small cities on their attractiveness as a place to live. Richmond joined the esteemed company such as Aberystwyth, Clonakilty (County Cork), Cork, Derry, Frome, Galway, Hebden Bridge, Ludlow and Scarborough as winners. The list tends to suggest to the outside world that Yorkshire and Ireland are the places to which we should all relocate. Alas, the secret is now out. Richmond is apparently one of the most duplicated UK place names. There are over 50 worldwide. Whether any have duplicated the same attractive setting is open to debate? The town place name sign merely mentioned free parking in the town centre with your disc and the twinning with Nord-Fron Kommune and St Aubin Du Cormier. You would probably put the latter in France, but Norway in brackets was helpful for pinpointing Nord Kommune.
Richmond only has a population of about 8,000 and is quite compact. It primarily sits in a bend of the River Swale, one
Richmond
St Mary Churchof the great rivers of Yorkshire. SUNWACD – Swale, Ure, Nidd, Wharfe, Aire, Calder and Don was the way of remembering the order from school. The Swale can be a boisterous bit of fast flowing water, as it sweeps below the Castle around the town. It was quite sedate today on a warm summer day. There has been no heavy rain for the last couple of weeks to fuel the run off higher up the valley. I started my tour of town technically just outside the boundary. Richmond Station is no longer. The last trains ran in 1969 with the closure of the branch line into town and the grand Victorian buildings on the far banks of the river had a spell as a garden centre. Today, the plants are gone and it is an arts space and a selection of shops. The local sports centre is next door and shares the csr park. I took an active interest in the Richmond Brewery shop – open every day 10 to 4.30 pm. As far as I am concerned, all micro breweries are worthy of support. However I had no real time to linger, so I left the Other Half drinking
coffee in the cafe with an order to bring me a small selection of beverages back to base. I had a brief wander round and noted some suspect art work and a number of cinema screen rooms. The place was packed. The old rail benches were surprisingly unoccupied and I seized a half decent photo opportunity. I did a circumnavigation of the fine Victorian building, which despite not having a future in railway land, are at least still standing in good repair and forming an integral part of town. Oh Mr Beeching what did you? The number of cars clogging routes into town could have been reduced, if only the trains still ran!
I crossed the Mercury Bridge into town. A small plaque advised that it had been renamed from Station Bridge in honour of the Signals Regiment based at nearby Catterick Garrison. I climbed towards the Market Place. The town was founded in Norman times as Riche Mont ... Strong Hill. The castle, dating from 1087, could be seen periodically looming over my ascent. I passed the grass area on the banks of the river known as The Batts. It was a lengthy climb, passing the
St Mary Church and the headquarters of Richmondshire District Council. Richmond has one of the largest market places in the country, all of which was once in the long gone outer Castle Walls. The main entrances are now one way to restrict traffic. The lower end was full of cars parked on the cobbles. The top end was covered with a travelling fair. The town is en route to Appleby. The connections of the town to the military are evident with the Museum of the Green Howards occupying the old Trinity church in the centre of the Market Place. I walked round to the Georgian Theatre, now enjoying a new lease of life. The town grew rich on the back of lead mining and agriculture and the Georgian Theatre - completed 1788 - is now one of the most complete examples remaining in the UK. After my brush with Beatles history in the last Stockton blog, I was surprised to see the Cavern Club round the corner on Rosemary Lane. A fine batch of Georgian houses was located on Newbiggin. The group included the attractively named Christmas House.
I had no time for a visit to the
Castle. A medieval pageant was in full flight. I headed down Millgate towards the Richmond Falls. An ice-cream hut was doing brisk business on the afternoon heat. The local youth were busy showing off their aquatic prowess. The water levels were low, although the fastest flowing river in England has apparently been known to rise metres in a few minutes. It would have been interesting to see the impact of the wet weather that would follow later. I walked round under the Castle towards my afternoon entertainment on the far side of the Swale.
On a warm summers day, football is not on everyone’s agenda. The majority of the visitors today would be content with an ice-cream down by the falls below town and remain blissfully unaware of one of the better views in town. Earls Orchard lies on the far side of the river directly under the Castle. The facility is fairly basic, but oh the view! I wandered past the entrance and up Slee Gill to take a photo from the meadow above. The small car park was rammed full and I could see good numbers already inside. A small group of Cleator Moor fans
wandered up to the "turnstile", each carefully carrying their haul of a box of Coors lager. "You can't bring that into the ground. We have no licence" advised Mr Wearside League official to howls of derision. "You are joking. It isn't a ground. It is only a field". The boxes were stored at the entrance. I paid my £2 and wandered in. Earls Orchard and I have history. I played here in 1984 for the North Eastern Region of a now defunct Building Society against our Midlands colleagues. There had been no significant changes in the last 30 years. The tidy clubhouse still stands. It was opened by Jack Charlton in 1975 during his spell in charge of the Ayresome Park gang. He was probably just on a fishing reconaissance trip. The pitch was now enclosed with a metal barrier......league rules. Two Subaru 4WD cars were acting as an advert for the match sponsors - a car dealership from Catterick Garrison - military discount available. A banner advertising the AGM dinner evening was pinned to the gate. Guest Speaker, Craig Hignett, was referred to as ex Middlesbrough and Darlington. His more recent association with Hartlepool had been skilfully omitted to
save embarrassment! There are no floodlights, should they upset the view of the Castle beyond. Richmond Town have progressed from the Teesside League to the Wearside League, but are now in limbo. The next advance to the giddy heights of Northern League status will require the much objected to floodlights (plus some covered standing area and a few seats). Earls Orchard has a grandstand of sorts. The grand folk of medieval Richmond were rumoured to have watched knights jousting on this very field from their lofty executive boxes high on the Castle walls. If the club do make it to the Northern League, I wonder what the locals of Esh Winning and Willington will make of a team that actually changed it's name to the Young Conservatives at one point in the 1960s before sense kicked in and they adopted the name Richmond Town F.C.
Cleator Moor Celtic had brought a healthy following. I say healthy in terms of numbers. The majority looked anything other than healthy, which was a combination of the hot sun and over indulgence in alcoholic refreshments. The alcohol ban inside the ground had been easily thwarted. The river side perimeter fence was
a mere 3 feet high and the produce had been lifted inside from this vantage point. The main Celtic following opposite the dug outs were happily discarding cans, as their team dominated the early exchanges. Cleator Moor is a small industrial town on the western edge of the Lake District. A product of the iron ore mines, it was once known as Little Ireland. The locals had clearly not had to contend with this sort of away support before in recent times, so they opted for non confrontational approach to the drinking and let them carry on. The Green & White hoops amused themselves, singing in the sun. One suspected, green hair dye was not part of the normal attire on a day out. If you've read any of my other blogs, you will see I gravitate towards football with pyro. However, not even I expected a flare to be lit following the deflected opening goal. Green smoke drifted across the valley. There might have been signs saying "No Dogs. No Alcohol. No Kicking A Ball Against The Clubhouse Wall", but someone forgot the No Pyrotechnics!! It all happens in the Wearside League.
The sun beat down,
the empty cans mounted, the singing broke the silence of the valley. Celtic were on a roll. It wasn't quite the unbeaten season from the Bhoys of Glasgow, but a winning streak of 22 games since Christmas is no mean accomplishment. The normal Wearside League club moans about their two trips across the Pennines a season, so with the constant travelling they have to put in, the Cleator Moor sequence of results was even more impressive. Half time 1-0. The Hoops were cruising. However, a black cloud was looming on the horizon. The blistering heat of early summer erupted in lightening, loud cracks of thunder and torrential rain. The rain gave way to hailstones. They bounced off the sodden turf in front of me. The crowd took cover as best as they could. Karen, in charge of the burger and hot dog stand, ran out of provisions. The Celtic fans jovially scolded her misjudgement of the demand for her goods. "I'm only a volunteer", she protested, prompting a song from her customers. The groundhoppers present discussed their cunning plans to find more football still playing in the week ahead. The Northern League awards dinner got a mention. An elderly fan
wandered out into the rain carrying a Super Dry branded bag. He was anything but! The rain and inclement weather continued, forcing the ref to delay the 2nd half and officials to start fret about the possibility of an abandoned Cup Final. After much forking, the water that had pooled in the near goal mouth was dispersed and play resumed.The mini marquee that doubled as the League officials office had acted as an impromptu shelter. The occupants amusingly picked it up and moved it towards the touchline for the resumption of play. Who needs a covered stand now? The delay and deterioration in playing conditions was a bonus for the home team. A flurry of missed opportunities and goals left the score at 2-2, before Cleator Moor secured showed their form to run out 4-2 winners in the closing minutes.
The winner of the scenic football ground of the season was comfortably in the bag for Earls Orchard. The locals went home to watch the FA Cup Final. The Cleator Moor fans invaded the pitch in celebration. It would be a good night in Little Ireland!
Appendix 1 Wearside League Shipowners Cup Final Richmond Town 2 Cleator Moor Celtic 4 Date: Saturday 27th May 2017 @ 1400 Hours Venue: Earls Orchard, Slee Gill, Richmond, North Yorkshire
Attendance: 349
Goals: 0-1 (CMC 6 Mins), 1-1 (RTFC 48 Mins), 1-2 (CMC 53 Mins), 2-2 (RTFC 66 Mins), 2-3 (CMC 88 Mins), 2-4 (CMC 89 Mins)
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Tot: 0.144s; Tpl: 0.017s; cc: 15; qc: 33; dbt: 0.0953s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
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Rainyb
Lorraine Brecht
Soccer field in the shadow of a castle -awesome!!