Kilton Woods and Kilton Beck

Kilton Woods, 2026

I remember planting, fifty years ago, the first trees near the old castle walls, and they are now as lofty as their sires two hundred years old. Here as I stand how reflection crowds my mind. There is no corner of this wood unknown to me. I have traversed it a thousand times when a boy. I have captured in it the owl, the crow, the cushat, the hawk, the cuckoo, and every other forest bird, and also the squirrel, the weasel, the foumart, the badger, the snake and the fox (John Farndale)

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In 1864, John Farndale wrote:

Kilton is a small village, but the vale in which it stands abounds with woodland scenery. At a short distance stands the remains of the old castle of Kilton, which once belonged to the Thwings, where centuries ago there were no doubt great doings; but time here has wrought vast changes, and the history of this once important stronghold is now nearly buried in oblivion.

From the ruins of the castle there is a fine view of the vast forest in which it stands, with the river crawling through blocks of huge stones till it reaches the sea at Skinningrove. Here I remember planting, fifty years ago, the first trees near the old castle walls, and they are now as lofty as their sires two hundred years old. Here as I stand how reflection crowds my mind. There is no corner of this wood unknown to me. I have traversed it a thousand times when a boy. I have captured in it the owl, the crow, the cushat, the hawk, the cuckoo, and every other forest bird, and also the squirrel, the weasel, the foumart, the badger, the snake and the fox. How often I have heard the retreat of the huntsman’s horn, like Joab at the death of Absolom, and how exulted when three cheers proclaimed the death of poor Reynard. I remember once the fox hard run by the Cleveland and Roxby hounds, and he took refuge between the old castle walls and the ivy creeping between. Here he kept safe till the hounds came up, when he boldly bounced in the very face of his enemies, and was soon overcome. Mr J Codling, of Roxby, caught him yet alive, and brushed him in the presence of Consett Dryden Esq., myself and a few others, and we made the wood resound with three cheers.

Here in the spring time when Nature is bursting into new life and beauty, and every hill is carpeted with wild flowers, when the feathered choir sing in joyful and delightful concert, and the busy bee with its drony tone passes and repasses, how sweety it is to stand and admire the skill and muse the praise of Him who brought them into being.

Kilton Woods

Here blooming flowers, with fragrant lips,

Sweet pleasure gives to me,

While happy birds with gladsome voice

Now flirt from tree to tree.

The river as it onward flows

Its pleasant winding way,

Sings with smiles of calm content

Its message day by day.

On mountain high and valley low

The voice of God I hear,

And by the sea, the rippling sea,

I ever feel him near.

I gaze upon the silent night

And in the heavens above,

And in golden letters, clear and bright,

The stars sing God is love.

The cuckoo with her well known voice,

Sings ever as she flies,

And joyful tidings brings to all,

She never tells us lies.

She sucks the eggs of other birds,

Which makes her voice more clear;

And when she sings, gay spring is come

And summer’s drawing near.

Petrifying springs, depositing carbonate of lime, abound in this locality. Amongst the most remarkable may be noticed a spring in Kilton Wood, a little to the south of the castle, and a remarkable sulphurous spring, which issues from the aluminous schistus on the banks of the beck near Kilton Mill. One gallon of water of this spring was found to be seventy two garins heavier than a gallon of distilled water. In the immediate vicinity of Kilton Castle there is also another petrifying spring, depositing carbonate of lime.

(A Guide to Saltburn by the Sea and the Surrounding District, With remarks on its picturesque scenery, Fifth Edition, Dedicated to John Thomas Wharton Esq of Skelton, By John Farndale. Late of Skelton Castle Farm, Darlington, Printed by Charles W Hird, 1864)