M J James The Ink Weaver

                                   CYCLING THE YORKSHIRE WOLDS - MY KIND OF HEAVEN

                                                            DANES DYKE Travel on the B1255 from Bridlington to Flamborough , hugging the glorious East Yorkshire coastline and you will encounter a considerable dip in the road and when you reach the bottom of said dip and look to the right you will see a turning for Danes Dyke. The official history of Danes Dyke, the formidable earthwork slicing across the Flamborough Headland like a knife through butter, speaks of huge Iron Age defenses, a formidable and impregnable barrier against invaders of many descriptions, perhaps even the very Danes for whom it is now named. It is a testament to the engineering prowess of the ancients, a silent, brooding, gu...

  An Encounter With Aleister Crowley The infamous, biting wind that whipped down from the mountains and off the vast expanse of Loch Ness carried with it not just the familiar scent of damp earth and ancient water, but also, I imagined, the faint, acrid tang of sulfur and forgotten incantations. It was late autumn 1910 in the northern reaches of Scotland, the sky a brooding and bruised purple, and Boleskine House , perched on the hillside, like it was an integral part of the landscape, seemed to absorb the last vestiges of daylight, growing darker and more ominous with each passing moment. I clutched my notepad tighter to my chest, the ink on the cover proclaiming my profession – "Journalist" – feeling like a flimsy shield against the formidable reputation of the man I was about to meet: Aleister Crowley , the name alone sending a shiver up the spine, such was the man’s reputation. Rumours clung to Boleskine like the, almost, ever present, Scottish mist: black masses, strang...