WELCOME TO NORTHERN ENGLAND

The Old Church of the Holy Cross stands above Whorlton near Swainby, close to the remains of a medieval village and Whorlton Castle. With medieval origins, the church originally served the local settlement here. As the population moved towards Swainby, a new parish church was built in the 19th century, and the old church closed for regular worship. Much of the nave was dismantled, but the chancel end was retained. Today, that roofed section remains maintained and is still used on occasion, with the surrounding churchyard continuing as a burial ground. Seen from above, the site shows how rural churches were sometimes reshaped by changing settlement patterns rather than abandoned outright.

This view looks through the camera at Whorlton Suspension Bridge near Barnard Castle, a historic crossing over the River Tees with an uncertain present. Constructed between 1829 and 1831 to the design of John Green, the bridge was built in just two years and became a crucial link between communities on either side of the river. For nearly two centuries, it served as a practical crossing rather than a showpiece. That changed in February 2019, when Storm Erik caused significant damage and the bridge was closed. Six years later, it remains shut, with little visible progress towards repair. The contrast is hard to ignore – a structure built quickly in the 19th century, now left suspended in time in the 21st.

This view looks through the camera at Cleadon Windmill, a familiar landmark on the South Tyneside skyline, with wide views across the surrounding region. Built in the early 19th century, the windmill once served local agriculture, but its position is what defines it today. From here, the view opens out towards Roker and the North Sea, across the River Wear and the Northern Spire Bridge, and inland to Penshaw Monument on the hill beyond. It’s a single location that brings together coast, river, and industrial landscape – showing how closely packed the North East really is when seen from the right place.

This fly-over looks at the calcining kilns at Rosedale East Mines, part of one of the largest ironstone mining complexes on the North York Moors. From the mid-19th century, ironstone was extracted here and processed in kilns designed to remove impurities before transport. The industry transformed Rosedale, driving the construction of inclines, railways, and infrastructure across what is now open moorland. The mines closed in the early 20th century, but the kilns remain. Seen from above, they trace the scale of an operation that once reshaped this landscape, leaving behind physical evidence of an industrial past that still defines the moors today.

Shildon Engine House stands in woodland near Blanchland, a surviving fragment of the North Pennines’ lead mining industry. Built around 1805, the structure housed a pumping engine used to keep nearby mine workings dry, forming part of the wider Beaumont mining operations that dominated this area. Without engines like this, deeper mining simply couldn’t continue. The building was shaped by its purpose – tall, square, and solid, designed to contain heavy machinery rather than people. When mining declined in the mid-19th century, the engine was removed and later attempts to reuse the building never fully succeeded. What remains is an industrial shell set in a now-rural landscape, quietly marking a time when Blanchland and the surrounding hills were driven by machinery, labour, and extraction rather than isolation.

Locomotion No.1 passing Hopetown in Darlington was one of the standout moments of the S&DR200 celebrations, marking 200 years since the opening of the Stockton & Darlington Railway. In 1825, Locomotion No.1 made history by hauling the world’s first public passenger train, placing Darlington at the centre of a global transformation. Two centuries later, seeing the engine return to the town where that story began carried real weight. This wasn’t just about heritage or nostalgia. It was about recognising Darlington’s role in shaping the railway age, and why places like Hopetown remain so important in telling that story properly.

This view looks through the camera at Belmont Farm in Weardale, a remote and peaceful spot with a largely forgotten past. On 1 January 1880, a man named Robert Snowball was murdered here. The case was investigated at the time, but no one was ever convicted, and the circumstances surrounding his death were never fully explained. More than 140 years later, the farm blends quietly into the surrounding landscape, with little to suggest the violence that once took place here. Belmont is a reminder that history doesn’t always leave monuments or ruins behind – sometimes it leaves unanswered questions, carried quietly by the land itself.

Roker Lighthouse stands at the entrance to the River Wear in Sunderland, guiding vessels between the open North Sea and the river beyond. Completed in 1903, the lighthouse replaced earlier structures that were vulnerable to the exposed coastline. Built from granite, it was designed to cope with heavy seas and played an important role during Sunderland’s industrial and shipbuilding peak. Seen at sunset, the lighthouse feels less industrial and more reflective. From above, its position becomes clear – not just as a marker for navigation, but as a fixed point between the city, the river, and the sea.

Easby Abbey and St Agatha’s Church stand side by side beside the River Swale, but history treated them very differently. Founded in 1152, Easby Abbey was home to the Premonstratensian, or White Canons for nearly four centuries. That came to an end in 1536 during the Dissolution of the Monasteries, when the abbey buildings were dismantled and reused. St Agatha’s Church survived that upheaval. Still intact and in regular use, it contains some of the finest medieval wall paintings in England. Today, the two buildings together tell a clear story – how the same historical moment reshaped the same place in very different ways, leaving one as a ruin and the other as a living part of the landscape.