Waterfall Wandering in Windy Teesdale – Exploring Easter Beck & Rowton Beck

With clear skies overhead but a strong wind keeping the drone grounded, I decided to head somewhere quieter and let the day unfold on foot. Teesdale always has something to offer, even when plans are loose. It’s a landscape of deep valleys, winding becks, and hidden corners—so I set my sights on two lesser-known streams: Easter Beck and Rowton Beck. While most people head straight for the big names like High Force and Low Force, these smaller, tucked-away becks often hold just as much beauty - without the crowds.

Easter Beck winds through the hills south of Holwick, cutting a narrow path through moorland and patchy woodland. As I followed it upstream, I came across a series of modest but beautiful waterfalls, some little more than gentle trickles, others with steep drops tumbling into shaded pools. They’re not the kind of falls that appear on guidebooks or maps, but that’s part of their charm. The landscape here is dotted with traces of older life—dry stone walls, the outlines of ancient field systems, and the odd ruined structure, all half-swallowed by bracken and time. The sound of running water and the spring sun glinting through bare trees gave the whole place a calm, almost timeless feel.

Rowton Beck, by contrast, felt wilder and more open. It flows across a more rugged section of Teesdale, with steeper banks and rougher terrain. The waterfalls here have carved out deeper channels in the rock, creating more dramatic formations. One fall in particular stood out - set beside a long field boundary wall that seemed to stretch endlessly across the moor. It’s a landscape that feels untouched, shaped only by weather and water. Every twist in the beck revealed something new: a plunge pool, a narrow drop, a moss-covered ledge catching the light just right. It’s places like this that remind you how much of Teesdale is still quietly undiscovered.

Because of the wind, most of today’s shots were taken on foot, with the phone, capturing what I could as I clambered up banks and over wet stones. That said, there were a few sheltered spots where I managed to get the drone up briefly - and even just those few aerial views gave a new appreciation for the twisting paths of the becks, and how they thread through the landscape like veins. The way the water has shaped the land is especially clear from above: cutting gullies, exposing rock, and feeding into the broader valley below.

Though these waterfalls don’t come with signposts or car parks, that’s what makes them special. You have to search for them, and in doing so, you’re rewarded not just with a view, but with a sense of discovery. There’s something deeply satisfying about finding a waterfall with no name, no fenced path, just the sound of rushing water and a mossy rock to sit on for a while.

Today might not have been a big-name adventure, but it was one that felt grounded, real, and refreshingly quiet. And that’s the thing about Teesdale - it doesn’t need to shout. Even on the windiest of days, it knows exactly how to speak.