Sikehead Revisited – New Paths, Old Tracks and Blue Skies Over Weardale

With another day of clear skies and sunshine, I made the most of the conditions and headed back to Weardale - this time focusing on the area around Sikehead Mine and the Smelt Chimneys. It’s a spot I’ve explored many times before, but today was about following some new paths, revisiting familiar ones from a fresh perspective, and discovering a few unexpected features I’d somehow missed on previous visits.

This part of the North Pennines AONB is steeped in lead mining history, with ruins, chimneys, old trackways and hushes scattered across the moorland. While I knew the area well, the light, angles and route taken today brought new life to it all. Whether it was capturing the bold silhouette of a chimney from a new viewpoint, tracing old water leats I hadn’t noticed before, or stumbling across lesser-known remains tucked into the landscape, it was a reminder that even well-trodden ground can still offer surprises. There’s always something left to find if you just slow down and look around.

Derwent Lead Mine Flue – A Forgotten Line Through the Hills

The Derwent Lead Mine Flue is a quiet but fascinating piece of industrial history tucked into the moorland near the Sikehead area. This stone-built flue once served the Derwent Mine, channelling poisonous fumes away from the smelting hearths and up the hillside to a chimney positioned high above. This technique was commonly used in lead smelting operations to protect workers from the worst of the fumes and to cool and condense lead particles, which were later recovered. Though much of the mine itself has faded into the landscape, the flue still cuts a visible scar up the hillside, offering a glimpse into the complex infrastructure once hidden beneath the tranquillity of the moor.

From the air, the flue’s linear shape is clearly defined, running in a near-straight line up the slope, flanked by heather and coarse grass. The drone captured the way it threads its way through the terrain, showing how it was built for both function and longevity, even in such a remote and exposed spot. The early spring light gave depth and shadow to the flue’s stone edges, revealing how this man-made feature still sits firmly in the land, decades after its use. It’s one of those places that tells its story not through ruins or signs, but through subtle lines that still guide your eye across the moor.

Rowantree House – A Silent Witness to Moorland Life

Rowantree House sits quietly on the open moorland near Sikehead, its abandoned stone walls slowly weathering under the elements. Once a working farmhouse, it would have been home to a family living in the shadow of Weardale’s lead mining industry—likely supporting agricultural work or perhaps connected to the nearby mines. Like many upland buildings in the area, it’s modest but solid, built to endure harsh winters, high winds and the isolation of the fells. Now roofless and still, it stands as a ghost of rural life, when even the most remote corners of the Pennines were alive with people and purpose.

From the air, Rowantree House is striking in its simplicity, a clear rectangular footprint surrounded by rough pasture and old boundary walls. The evening sun caught the stone beautifully, casting long shadows and highlighting the texture of the remaining structure. The drone offered a full appreciation of the house’s position within the landscape, looking out over vast stretches of empty moor. There’s a certain peacefulness to it now—a building no longer used, but still holding its shape and story amid the wild, windswept hills.

Whiteheaps Mine – A Quiet Fragment of Weardale’s Lead Legacy

Whiteheaps Mine is one of the many lesser-known lead mining sites scattered across the Weardale moors, nestled not far from the more prominent remains at Sikehead. While it’s a relatively modest site today, in its time it formed part of the extensive 19th-century lead industry that shaped this entire landscape. There are remnants of mine shafts, spoil heaps, and possibly traces of former engine or dressing buildings, though much has been reclaimed by the land. Like many such places, Whiteheaps would have been a tough and isolated workplace, shaped by hard weather and harder labour.

From the air, the subtle features of the mine come to life—linear spoil tips, disturbed ground, and shallow depressions that suggest the outlines of past workings. The drone helped to trace the old access routes and the way the site fits into the broader network of nearby mines and hushes. While it may not have the dramatic structures of other sites, Whiteheaps has a quiet significance, a landscape still scarred by human endeavour, where nature is slowly softening the marks of industry—but not quite erasing them.

West Farm – Weathered Walls on the Edge of the Moor

West Farm is one of those classic abandoned upland farmsteads that dot the moors around Weardale—stone-built, simple, and standing strong despite decades of exposure to the elements. Once part of a working farm, it would have served as a modest but functional home, likely tied to both agriculture and the nearby mining activity that defined this region. Now roofless and open to the skies, West Farm tells a quiet story of life lived on the fringe, where the land was tough and the rewards hard-earned.

From the air, West Farm reveals its shape perfectly—a rectangular footprint with internal divisions still clearly visible, surrounded by collapsed walls and scattered stonework. Its position offers wide views over the surrounding moorland, and the evening light brought out every crack and texture in the remaining stone. Though it no longer serves a purpose, it remains a powerful marker of the people who once worked, lived, and endured in this wild and windswept landscape.

Boltswell Sike – A Subtle Stream with a Story in the Hills

Boltswell Sike may appear at first glance to be just a small moorland stream, but like many of the watercourses in Weardale, it has its own place in the story of the landscape. Flowing quietly across the fells near the old mining grounds, this sike would once have been part of the water management network used by lead miners—either to power equipment, wash ore, or drain workings. Its presence near several mine sites suggests it played a supporting role in the industrial rhythm of the moor, even if the scars it once fed have now faded.

Captured from above, Boltswell Sike weaves a delicate line through the rough grasses and heather, its course just visible in the folds of the land. The drone highlighted how the stream interacts with subtle earthworks and disturbed ground, possibly remnants of forgotten activity. Though there are no grand structures here, the sike adds texture and movement to the scene, reminding us that even the smallest features of this landscape are part of a much larger, layered history—where water, stone, and human effort all left their mark.

Sikehead Lead Mine & Chimney – A Towering Reminder of Weardale’s Mining Might

The Sikehead Lead Mine is one of the most iconic and atmospheric remnants of Weardale’s industrial past. Set high on the moor above Stanhope, the site once formed part of a major 19th-century lead mining operation, with the tall chimney still standing as a stark monument to a time when this wild landscape was alive with noise, smoke and hard labour. The chimney was part of a flue system connected to the smelt mill below, designed to vent toxic fumes away from the workspace. Around it, you can still find shaft mounds, spoil heaps, and traces of the mine buildings, all slowly softening into the moorland.

From the air, the Sikehead chimney dominates the skyline, a solitary column surrounded by rolling moor and scattered mining scars. Its height and placement make it visible for miles, and the drone offered a perfect view of its connection to the rest of the landscape—the line of the flue, the collapsed remains of other buildings, and the moody sweep of the hills beyond. The light today caught it just right, casting long shadows and giving the whole area a cinematic, almost timeless quality. It's a place that feels both abandoned and alive—a symbol of a vanished industry still etched deeply into the land.

Sikehead Smelt Mill Chimney – A Weathered Landmark of Lead Smelting History

The Sikehead Smelt Mill Chimney sits just below the main mine workings, and is part of what remains of the 19th-century smelting operations that once defined this part of Weardale. Built as the terminus of a long stone-lined flue system, the chimney served to carry toxic gases away from the smelt mill hearths and safely release them higher up the fell. This design not only helped to protect workers from harmful fumes but also allowed valuable lead and silver particles to condense along the flue walls—these would later be collected for further use. While the mill buildings themselves are mostly lost to time, the chimney survives as a solitary marker of a once-busy industrial landscape.

From above, the chimney reveals its place in the wider site—tucked into the slope just below the higher chimney that dominates the skyline. The drone captured the clear line of the flue running up to it from the vanished mill, and the way the structure sits nestled against the landscape. Its square base and crumbling stonework are a striking contrast to the soft lines of the surrounding moor, and in the golden light, it almost seems to glow. It’s not the most prominent structure on the hill, but it tells a crucial part of the story—the dirty, dangerous business of smelting, now long gone, but still very much written into the land.

Wrapping Up the Day

Today was a reminder of why I never get tired of returning to Weardale. With clear skies, low winds, and the early signs of spring creeping into the moors, it was the perfect opportunity to revisit one of the most atmospheric corners of the valley—the Sikehead lead mining landscape. While I’ve explored these paths before, following some new routes and taking fresh perspectives led to a whole range of discoveries, from long-forgotten farmsteads to weathered flues and quiet gills that once powered an entire industry.

Whether it was the towering chimneys that still pierce the skyline, or the more subtle scars of flues, streams and spoil heaps, every stop today helped paint a fuller picture of just how much history lies scattered across these hills. Places like Rowantree House, Whiteheaps Mine, and the Sikehead Smelt Mill still carry the weight of the past, even as the landscape softens and reclaims them. It's always amazing how much there is to see—even in places I thought I knew well. Another brilliant day in a part of the world that always seems to have one more story to tell.