Park ski jump was cleared for take off, but forget the lions!
THE busy rail line between Manchester Piccadilly and Sheffield runs commuters through scenic Reddish Vale Country Park.
Imagine being on that train as it travels on the viaduct spanning the park and peering to your left to see a giant ski jump in the midst of the greenery.
Then, turning to look out of the window on the right, and watching a pride of lions hungrily eye up a herd of wildebeest.
It sounds like an amazing start to the working day, but surely it’s ludicrously far-fetched?
Well yes and no. Both could have happened – and looked highly possible at one stage.
Country parks, such as Reddish Vale, are coming under increasing pressure for development and campaigners are having to defend our green spaces.
Usually, it is from housing developments, as was seen at Reddish Vale when homes were built off Blackberry Lane as part of the masterplan to transform Stockport’s Brinnington area.
But campaigners were previously successful in fighting off two other planning applications – one for the ski jump and another for the safari park.
The first of these two bizarre chapters in the history of Reddish Vale began on a night out for two Norwegian students in the late 1950s.
Eric Hoff and Lars Ele studied at Manchester University, but were nostalgic for their homeland – its regular deep snow and the winter sports opportunities it provided.
So they cooked up what seemed like a hairbrained scheme to create a ski jump somewhere in Greater Manchester. Although not exactly Mount Everest, the open spaces and slopes of Reddish Vale were considered perfect – aside from a lack of snow and an actual ski jump!
The latter problem was solved by constructing a temporary ramp out of 40ft of scaffolding above a steep embankment near Brinnington Beach to form a natural landing slope.
While the former issue was a little more tricky, it too was overcome. Around 20 tonnes of snow was transported in sealed lorries from the Cairngorms, in Scotland, and supplemented with another 10 tonnes of artificial snow.
It was treated with carbon and ammonium chloride to stop it melting and volunteers spread it over the slopes.
Reddish Vale was then ready for its two-day skijump competition, beginning on March 3, 1960.
Among an estimated 15,000 people to watch was Pat Ruaune, 78, who is still a member of the Tame Valley Defence Group that passionately protects Reddish Vale’s interests.
She said: “Everyone wanted to watch, people were terribly excited and turned up in their droves.
“It was brilliant, a really colourful event in the park’s history.”
Laura Dwyer, another who saw the event, said: “I saw the ski jumps as a girl of 15. It was amazing, there has never been anything like it around here.
“I have told people and my family about it, but was never believed.”
Norwegian experts travelled over to take part, with winner Ove Johnsen leaping 106ft.
Funds were also raised for World Refugee Year.
A bid to recreate the excitement on a more permanent basis proved much less popular. Plans for a snow dome were drawn up and defeated before proposals for an artificial ski slope looked set to take off.
By 1990, that seemed a distinct possibility and Pat was among those who scrutinised the proposals.
Fact-finding trips were made to other artificial slopes in the country – including Sheffield – and protesters were not impressed.
The plans were withdrawn amid a petition of around 7,000 signatures opposed to them and the campaigners were victorious.
Pat said: “They wanted to build an artificial slope on the north fields. We went to look at different types of these slopes to see what they were like.
“We discovered they would have to cover the fields with plastic for the slope and we made vehement objections. It was a battle we managed to win. It would have destroyed nature and completely covered the area with plastic. It would have been a high structure, very obtrusive and a nuisance.”
An even stranger battle that protesters managed to win came in 1973.
Norwest Holst Land Holdings Limited submitted a planning application for a ‘safari park with ancillary buildings and service areas’.
Little more is known about the specifics of the plans.
Stockport council’s application records are not available from so far back, although copies of the planning notice itself still exist.
But as exotic as lions, zebra and monkeys wandering around the Vale sounds, there was fundamental opposition and planning permission was not given.
Pat said: “It was 45 years ago but I remember it. My daughter was eight at the time and wrote a letter to the M.E.N. about it.
“The public would have had to pay to go into the park and that was an absolute no-no because it is a community facility.
“There were lots of complaints about it and it was thwarted. There weren’t many people who were for it.
“It would have made money for very few people at the expense of the council tax payer.”
Having fended off prides of lions and made would-be Winter Olympians take flight from Stockport, the Tame Valley Defence Group still faces a battle to protect the park.
And the most recent was lost when planning permission was granted for the houses off Blackberry Lane, far less eyecatching but just as important to campaigners.
Two petitions in opposition – with more than 14,000 signatures combined – were handed in