Wandering Without a Plan – Mines, Moors and Hidden Corners of Allendale & Beyond
Apr 9
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If you’re into mines, abandoned houses, and wild Northumberland landscapes—with a cheeky hop over the border into Cumbria - then today’s outing might be right up your street. The forecast promised low winds and cloud cover, not ideal for perfect light, but good enough to get the drone out. So I set off towards the Allendale Chimneys with nothing more than a loose idea in mind… and what followed turned out to be a brilliantly unplanned wander through moorland history and hidden corners.
A proper plan might have led me straight to the headline sites—the big-name mines and more familiar spots - but that would have meant missing out on the abandoned houses tucked into hillsides, the forgotten shafts, and the crumbling ruins that weren’t on any list but told just as much of a story. It was the kind of day where one path led to another, and each new turn revealed something unexpected. From winding hushes and engine houses to long-forgotten farmsteads, it ended up being an explore of depth, rather than distance - and one that turned out to be far more rewarding than expected.
Allendale Chimneys – Industrial Giants on the Moor
The Allendale Chimneys are some of the most striking relics of Northumberland’s lead mining heritage, standing tall and isolated on the moorland skyline. These chimneys were once part of a vast flue system linked to smelt mills further down the valley, used to vent poisonous fumes from the lead smelting process. They’re now scheduled monuments and serve as enduring markers of Allendale’s industrial past.
From the air, the chimneys look almost surreal - tall stone stacks rising from an otherwise empty landscape, with the snaking lines of flue channels still visible across the heather. The drone captured their bold silhouettes and the vast openness around them, emphasising just how remote and atmospheric this site really is. A brilliant spot to kick off the day.
Slag Hill – A Forgotten Mine in the Moorland Silence
Just south of the Allendale Chimneys lies Slag Hill, the remains of a small, abandoned lead mine now slowly being swallowed by the moor. Once part of the wider Allendale mining landscape, it likely served as a satellite site, feeding ore to larger smelt mills nearby. All that’s left now are collapsed stone structures, faint trackways, and spoil heaps, blending quietly into the hillside.
From the air, Slag Hill’s outlines just begin to emerge - a few walls still holding their shape, surrounded by the scars of past workings. The drone revealed subtle mounds, shallow shafts, and scattered stone that give the site form from above, even though it feels hidden on foot. It’s the kind of place you could walk past without noticing—but in the air, the history beneath the surface comes to life.
Blackcleugh & Balehill – Side by Side in the Landscape
Blackcleugh and Balehill are two abandoned farmhouses lying not far apart on the moors south of Allendale, both appearing almost like mirror images from a distance. Still standing with their roofs intact, they’re remarkably well-preserved for remote upland buildings, likely once part of small-scale farming operations supporting the surrounding mining communities. Though now empty, they offer a clear picture of what life might have looked like out here on the high ground.
From the air, the resemblance is even more noticeable - solid stone buildings, rectangular in form, each tucked into the moor with rough pasture around them. The drone highlighted their position within the wider landscape, both set against rolling hills with no nearby neighbours in sight. They feel like quiet companions, each telling a version of the same story: resilience, isolation, and the passage of time in one of Northumberland’s most atmospheric corners.
Nenthead Mines – A Walk Through Industrial Time
Nenthead Mines, just across the border into Cumbria, is one of the best-preserved mining landscapes in the UK, and wandering through it feels like stepping into an open-air museum. Once a major centre for lead and zinc mining, the site dates back to the 18th century and was run by the London Lead Company, known for its progressive approach to workers’ welfare. What remains today is a rich mix of mine buildings, dressing floors, leats, and tunnels, all set in a stunning moorland valley.
I spent quite a while exploring the site on foot before getting the drone up, and it was well worth it. From the air, the layout of the complex really comes to life - the winding paths, stone ruins, and water channels forming a detailed pattern through the valley. The soft cloud cover gave the scene a moody, almost timeless feel, perfect for capturing the depth and scale of this industrial landscape. A truly fascinating place, and one I’ll definitely be returning to with more time.
West Allen Mine – A Quiet Reminder of a Busy Past
West Allen Mine, nestled in the hills west of Allendale, is one of those lesser-known sites that still carries the character of the region’s mining legacy. Though not as extensive as Nenthead or Allendale’s larger workings, it was once part of the vast network of lead mines that shaped this area in the 18th and 19th centuries. Today, low stone remains and subtle earthworks are all that hint at its past, blending quietly into the landscape.
From above, the drone revealed shallow spoil heaps, building footprints, and disturbed ground, just enough to trace the outlines of former activity. It’s a peaceful spot now—remote, quiet, and reclaimed by nature - but from the air you can still read the story written into the land. A perfect example of how even the quietest corners of the moor are steeped in industry and history.
Rusheymea, Allotment House & Whetstonemea – A Cluster of Forgotten Lives
Tucked into the moorland north of the West Allen Valley, the abandoned buildings at Rusheymea, Allotment House, and Whetstonemea form a fascinating little cluster of isolated upland dwellings, now long left behind. These small farmsteads or workers’ cottages likely served the surrounding mines and moorland farms, offering shelter in a rugged and remote landscape. Though each building is different in layout and condition, together they tell a story of lives once lived in complete isolation, connected only by rough tracks and sheer resilience.
From the air, the buildings appear scattered yet connected - stone walls still standing, some with partial roofs, others little more than outlines in the grass. The drone picked out their positions relative to one another, with old enclosures and trackways still faintly visible, crisscrossing the landscape. It’s a beautifully atmospheric spot—windswept, quiet, and full of forgotten character - where each crumbling wall and overgrown corner hints at a way of life that has almost vanished entirely.
Swinhope Head & Swinhope Head Mine – Traces of Industry in the Northumberland Moors
Swinhope Head marks the upper reaches of Swinhope Burn, a tributary of the River East Allen in Northumberland.Originating near Hope Head on Swinhope Moor, the burn flows northeast past the dispersed settlement of Swinhope before joining the East Allen near Spartylea. This area is characterized by expansive moorland, offering a sense of isolation typical of the North Pennines landscape.
Nestled within this terrain lies the Swinhope Head Mine, an old lead mining site near Coalcleugh. Historically, this mine operated primarily on the Williams Vein, a continuation of the Barneycraig Vein in the Swinhope area. The Beaumont Company initiated operations here, contributing to the region's rich mining heritage. Today, remnants such as spoil heaps and structural foundations can still be observed, serving as silent witnesses to the area's industrial past.
From an aerial perspective, the juxtaposition of the winding Swinhope Burn against the scattered remnants of the mine offers a compelling narrative of human endeavor amidst nature's vastness. The drone captures the serpentine path of the burn as it meanders through the moor, with the subtle imprints of mining activities etched into the landscape nearby. The contrast between the enduring natural environment and the ephemeral traces of industry provides a poignant reflection on the passage of time in this remote corner of Northumberland.
Low Moss House, High Moss House & Stripe House – Three Forgotten Farms of Swinhope Burn
Tucked away along the moorland edge of Swinhope Burn, these three abandoned farmhouses – Low Moss House, High Moss House, and Stripe House – sit quietly within walking distance of one another, each a reminder of once-active upland lives. Likely former shepherd’s cottages or smallholdings, they would’ve supported both hill farming and the nearby mining activity in the surrounding valleys. Now silent and slowly succumbing to the elements, they stand as solitary witnesses to a once-thriving rural way of life.
From the air, each house tells a slightly different story. Low Moss House, half-hidden in a dip, still clings to some of its structure; High Moss House, perched higher, catches the light and the wind; while Stripe House, set alone on a rise, feels the most isolated. The drone gave a perfect view of how these buildings relate to the burn and the broader landscape - stone shells spread across a moody, wide-open moor, each one blending into the wild but refusing to be completely erased.
Wrapping Up the Day
Today was exactly the kind of explore I love - completely unplanned and unexpectedly brilliant. Setting off with little more than an idea to visit the Allendale Chimneys, I ended up stumbling across a string of abandoned farms, hidden mines, and half-forgotten ruins, stretching across moor and valley from Northumberland into Cumbria. There was no grand route, no list of must-sees - just the freedom to follow the landscape and let curiosity do the rest.
From the towering stacks at Allendale to the tucked-away remains near Swinhope Burn, every location had something to offer - stories in stone, scattered history, and the kind of atmosphere you only find in places that have been left behind. The moors felt vast, the buildings lonely but full of presence, and the mining heritage here still etched into every ridge and hollow. Next time, maybe I’ll plan it properly… but honestly, I’m not sure it could’ve worked out much better.
