Morning. Veteran access campaigners tell me there’s always something new to discover in Sheffield’s wild countryside. Last week three people of an age to know better took me through a slightly precarious hole in a fence for a stroll along glorious riverside paths, in a public woodland it seems some would prefer you not to visit.
We hear from a member of Sheffield Litter Pickers about why litter collectors need a sense of humour. We have a new column, from a beginner birder in Sheffield’s secret valley. And welcome to British Summer Time.
Our message to readers is simple: subscribe to get all this automatically in your inbox every Sunday. Try us out for a few weeks, share with your mates (button below) and if you like what you read, the paltry pocket money cost of a full subscription will help keep these posts coming for everyone.
We’re aiming to reach our target of 305 full subscribers before the Swifts arrive for the summer, in early May. Just nine more readers finding the cost of a pint of beer a month in their digital pockets will get us to that happy point, where we’ll have enough paying subscribers to cover our costs and become properly sustainable.
If you’ve enjoyed your free trial, or if you’re just arrived and reckon £4 a month isn’t too much to ask to enable over 2,000 people a week to read this publication, you can upgrade to join our 295+ wonderful full members below.
Gated Community
The Upper Don Trail aims to be a wonderful riverside route between Sheffield and Langsett, allowing people from Hillsborough, Oughtibridge, Wharncliffe Side, Deepcar and Stocksbridge (and beyond) to get around northern Sheffield.
The idea of villages and communities connected by a picturesque trail near the River Don appeals to pretty much everyone: it’ll make tourism money for local businesses, it’ll improve public health, it’ll reduce the risk and fear of accidents on the scary A6102 Manchester / Langsett Road, and it’ll open up the local woods and riverside to the people who live there.
But then you come across a gate barring the way, and a trail of baffling bureaucracy.
Along with the fancy new Jöro restaurant, the new housing estates on the old Oughtibridge paper mill site contains several hundred families who’d like to walk and run in their local woods. And they legally can, because it’s a public access woodland owned by us, through the Forestry England branch of government. But Yorkshire Water operate a small site 400 metres along a trail from the estate road, and they also own a metal gate to the trail, blocking the entrance.
For the last three years, the Upper Don Trail Trust (UDTT) has been sending letters and emails to Yorkshire Water and Forestry England trying to get the gate opened. It seems both organisations agree that the people of Oughtibridge should be able to get into the woods on their doorstep. Local MP Marie Tidball has asked for progress. But the gate remains.
David and Alison Anderson have lived near this stretch of the River Don for forty years. They tell me how they hoped one day to visit the woods fenced off as part of the paper mill.
Canoeists and deer use the river, says David, and the riverside path south of the gate, connecting Oughtibridge village to its new estate, seems to be nearing completion. (The stretch in the first part of the estate is open, the next bit is being built now, and the final link will be made when the council sort out arrangements for a bridge across the river, already funded from the paper mill estate builders).
“People trying to get here from Oughtibridge have to use the road now,” says Alison. “And the road’s horrible.” I walked along it, past speeding lorries and grit and noise, and know what she means. Down below, a Dipper flew from rock to rock in the lapping waters of the Don.
Champion of Sheffield’s rivers Simon Ogden joins us in his guise as chair of the UDTT. He admits to being baffled, but not deterred. He’s told me that locals have found a gap in the fence just yards from the Yorkshire Water barrier.
There it is, down a steep bank with the Don gushing below. We’ve already seen one woman and a dog clamber out of the woods. Then another woman stoops through the gap, and tells us she runs and walks on the woodland trails most days, often with her dog, but she can’t take her daughter in her buggy, because she can’t get through.
“I love it living round here,” she says. Of course she wants to run round the local woods with her daughter. This is 2025 Sheffield, on an estate where the local eatery has tasting menus and umlauts.
We clamber through the fence hole, and the woods by the Don are fabulous, as you’d expect. The Bluebells will soon be in flower, and the Wood Anemones are out already. The trail leads past the water treatment site and joins an old sunken bridleway that once crossed the river near the Wharncliffe Arms via a set of stepping stones, removed a couple of generations ago.
Paper mill workers may have passed this way when the Oughtibridge site provided newsprint for Fleet Street, I’m told. Now the UDTT want all of this trail north of Oughtibridge opened up, so the people living at the old paper mill can get to Deepcar and Stocksbridge on foot.
Alison Anderson picks out an early Chiff Chaff singing in the trees as we head up to the Plank Gate trail through Wharncliffe Woods. Near the junction is a railway bridge, built to take the bridleway over the rail line in 1848, says Simon. It has a modern weight restriction sign, he notes, adding that recent letters from Yorkshire Water and Forestry England give an in principle agreement to open what’s now known as the Oughtigate, but suggest that Network Rail will now need to be involved because of this bridge. Simon pauses for effect.
We both know this may add further layers of head scratching delay.
“At no point in the last century and a half have the railway ever attempted to prevent public use,” says Simon. “It looks like another unnecessary delaying tactic. But why?”
And another local woman pops through the fence and jogs home past the Oughtigate.
Birding In The Secret Valley:
Stereotypical birdwatchers in Barbour jackets and earnest wooly hats still exist, but it seems those stereotypes carry little weight in the minds of younger people, who’ll be taking on the nature emergency with their notebooks and binos in years to come.
Our new column is from a new birder*, a woman who only really began noticing the local wildlife late last year, when she began working on the slopes of the Shire Brook near Woodhouse (known by many local people as Sheffield’s secret valley.)
Figures from conservation groups suggest younger people are flocking (sorry) to birding, and we hope Meghan will help more Sheffielders take a closer interest in our wildlife. (*Birding, as opposed to birdwatching, is more about watching and studying the birdlife in your local patch than travelling the world ticking off exotic species).
We’ll aim to include a few tips for new birders alongside Meghan’s column every now and then: today John Robinson of Sheffield RSPB helps organise our notebooks.
Noticing Is The First Step - by Meghan Tipping
I have always been curious, keen to learn and wonder. But I hadn't found the space where I felt I belonged enough to explore the natural world on my own.
Discovering Shire Brook Valley Nature Reserve, I started to notice. Everyday there are birds that surround us, but they become part of the background noise, blurring into our routine so we don't notice. I realised that noticing is the first step.
I wanted to do something that created a connection between myself and nature. At the age of 32, I got my first pair of binoculars and a bird ID book. And everything changed. I went from only knowing a Blackbird and a Robin to recognising a Wren, a Treecreeper, and a Nuthatch.
I had never actually seen these birds before. It had taken me 30 years to find a space where I could start noticing, and to feel comfortable as I did so, with my book, my new green notebook, and my binoculars.
In a heavily saturated world, it's difficult to stop and take a look around you, without distraction. Now every day, I find time to go for a walk, to stop, listen and notice. I peer through my binoculars at the wonder of birds. Seeing them up close and marvelling at their markings and movements, I feel a new sense of joy.
I feel privileged to know these birds, and it is this knowing that makes me feel connected. And it makes me care more deeply for the natural world.
I work as the activity and engagement officer at the Shire Brook Valley, and as I follow the winding paths through woodland, across meadows and alongside ponds and streams, there is so much to see.
I am not yet bored by a charm of Goldfinches! Their loud chatter and striking red patches make them a fascinating watch. I make a note of my noticings like this, every day in my little green book, reminders of the new connections I have made.
Join me on my birding journey as I discover new species for the first time. It’s never too late to start noticing.
Taking Notes: The best notebook is the one you have with you. Veteran birder John Robinson likes an A7 police notebook and pencil, as the book will fit in any pocket, it’s pretty durable and the pencil copes with rain better than a smudgy biro. Others may prefer something bigger and more elegant, but keep it with you is the point.
Mark the top of the page with date, location and the weather. Then write down everything you see. Birding organisations like the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO) have a handy abbreviation list to avoid writers cramp after a day of Black-tailed Godwits (BW) and Great Spotted Woodpeckers (GS). Once you get your eye and enthusiasm up to speed, you can add the numbers you see too.
Then make a cup of tea when you get home, and collate your names and numbers onto a spreadsheet or neater notebook if you like, and one day you’ll be able to look back over the years to literally compare notes. John says his lists serve as a diary, of days out on blustery seashores or grey dawn walks around Sheffield. He keeps lists of lists, of the birds seen in any year, birds at his home patch at Wadsley Common, and the birds seen so far over his life, for example. It’s your choice.
But it’s important to share your sightings too: data on fluctuating numbers can help conservation efforts, and local species lists have helped places like Owlthorpe Fields retain wildlife sites faced with planning applications. Apps like iNaturalist, iRecord and the BTO’s BirdTrack all feed into the UK’s National Biodiversity Network records.
Move Fast And Fix Things
Julie Gay and husband Richard are litter picking faster than I can walk. Julie darts to one side for a crumpled plastic bag, while Richard is ahead clearing lager cans. You need just four tools to litter pick this fast, Richard explains: a litter picker and bag, some garden gloves, and a litter picker’s hoop. (About £5 from Ebay, he tells me).
Sheffield Litter Pickers is one of the city’s biggest semi-organisations. It’s actually several thousand individual Sheffielders loosely banding together to collect litter on different streets, parks, green space, riversides and shopping centres, and Julie, one of the SLP stalwarts, was awarded a British Empire Medal in the King’s recent honours list for ‘services to the community’. She’s accepted the award on behalf of all the city’s litter pickers, she tells me.
Around twenty years ago, Julie was bemoaning the litter along Twentywell Lane. (Much of the city’s streetside litter is thrown out of cars, she tells me. “Some people don’t even think about it. They don’t want the smell of rubbish in their car.”)
“Richard said, well, go and do something about it.” So with a carrier bag and pair of gloves Julie began her litter picking career, now expanded after retiring from her job as school teaching assistant.
She joined the Totley Litter Picking Group, and quickly found that people all over the city were thinking the same way. The council no longer had enough staff to compete against the rising tide of litter, generated by takeaways, car-proud motorists, ridiculous amounts of packaging and an assumption by more than a few people that it’s someone else’s job to keep the streets and parks and riversides clean.
Julie says she’s driven by a love of the natural world: animals such as foxes, birds and hedgehogs can all be killed after getting tangled in litter, and she tells of the dead Wood Mice she finds drowned in discarded drinks bottles.
The cannabis farm residue she and colleagues helped clear at Redcar Brook pollutes a river with fertiliser nutrients, she says, while plastic litter often finds its way to the sea, where it degrades into microplastics.
“And that makes its way eventually into our own bloodstream, and male sperm,” she says. “It’s important to know the facts about it.”
She regularly visits schools and youth groups to try and deter littering, and remembers the days when national government campaigns made dropping litter socially unacceptable.
It seems littering is getting steadily worse, she says. Apart from the takeaway packaging, cans and bottles, there are vape packets and batteries, NOX canisters and syringes to deal with. (The advice is to leave anything sharp or dangerous, but report its location).
Anyone can become a litter picker, she says. You can get bags, labels and litter grabbers from most local libraries (ring first to check they have enough stock, she advises). You’ll then need some gardening gloves (and a hoop for speed and convenience) and off you go, alone or with a local group. Just label up the bags of rubbish out of the way by a road, ready for collection in 48 hours. (See the council community litter page).
There needs to be more anti-litter enforcement, she says, and better education. And she observes that each piece of dropped litter is a cost to the taxpayer somewhere along the line, even if it’s picked up and bagged by a volunteer.
“How hard is it to put that litter in a bin, or take it home? But I’m determined not to get disheartened, and it helps me mentally to go and do something.”
I’ve watched and joined several litter picking groups over the years, and what strikes me is the simple joy involved. These are like-minded, sociable people, says Julie, who love the natural world and want to improve their patch of the city. “You have such giggles and fun,” she says. “You have to have a sense of humour.”
She carries a bag and gloves almost every time she goes out, she tells me, and usually litter picks several times a week, on her way somewhere, or with an organised group. If you see a clean stretch of roadside, or woodland path, there’s a good chance Julie or one of her colleagues have passed by before you.
Richard and Julie speed through a corner of Poynton Wood, collecting rubbish from the riverside, dodging under bushes for can piles, lifting bottles from the brambles.
In fifteen minutes they’ve circled around and left a piece of ancient woodland green and litter free, and head home with a happy heart and two bags of other people’s litter.
What’s On Out There (from Sunday 30th March)
A tiny selection from our new (and regularly updated) What’s On Out There news and listings post for March. (Full post for full subscribers only).
Sun 30th - Yorkshire Rose Womens Cycle Rides
Mon 31st - National Trust walk - Mam Tor walk & litter pick
Tues 1st - Friends of Ecclesall Woods volunteer & footpath repair session
Weds 2nd - Shirebrook Valley - Volunteer Session
Thurs 3rd - Green City Action Grimesthorpe community allotment
Fri 4th - Social Walk from Edale
Sat 5th - Parkwood Springs conservation volunteering
You can start a free trial subscription for a few weeks below, or for the cost of a pint of beer a month, upgrade to become one of our 295+ wonderful full members who help publish It’s Looking A Bit Black Over Bill’s Mother’s. You’ll have access to our huge archive of features about the wild outdoors of Sheffield, and a warm glow from supporting local journalism’s fightback against anti-social media nonsense.
Thanks for reading.
Fab read as usual. Sometimes I think people are too nice doing things by the book as organisations try to exhaust us with their 'bureaucracy' effectively denying access to public land. It just needs someone with a stihl saw to take down a section of the fence in Oughtibridge. That's what happens elsewhere.
And as for Sheffield Litter Pickers, and absolutely amazing bunch of people. I'd be giving each and every one of them a King's Award. They all have busy lives and yet they still prioritise cleaning up other people's mess including what must amount to thousands of dog poo bags.
You can’t argue with an area that boasts an umlaut! Perhaps we need a mass trespass?