Having spotted a couple of reports on Bridon Wire’s former wire-spinning works at Ambergate in Derbyshire, I thought it would be worth taking a look whilst I was in the area … I visited here after Fletchers, Volcrepe and a couple of others in the Manchester area. To me, “Bridon” means an enormous yard in Inverbervie which serves the North Sea oil industry: you look down on its cranes and giant wire spools from the coast road as it climbs towards Aberdeen; the wire ropes are used for rigging cranes on oil rigs and supply boats, as well as moorings. Interesting to see what remains of the place where the ropes originated.
This site at Ambergate had been a wire works since it was established in 1876 by the Johnson family. The company was run as Richard Johnson & Nephew, and at its peak the site employed over 500 people. As Havoc said in his report a while back, Johnsons specialised in telegraph wires and fencing, also suspension cables – even putting in a tender for the Brooklyn Bridge’s suspension wires. Richard Johnson & Nephew produced the telegraph cables laid underneath the English Channel during WW2 – they ran parallel to PLUTO, the fuel pipeline from Dungeness to Normandy. The suspension wires were steel, due to its tensile strength, but the wires for telegraphy were spun from copper, as it’s a better conductor. The wire mills at Ambergate became “Bridon Ropes, Johnson & Nephew Wire Works Ltd.” when Bridon took over in 1990 – wire-making ended in 1996, but Bridon contnued using Ambergate as a storage and distribution centre until the end of the decade.
Originally a separate company to Richard Johnson & Nephew, Bridon Wire was originally constituted as British Ropes in 1926. Bridon was acquired by the conglomerate F.K.I. in 1997, and operates as “Bridon International”; AFAIK, the parent company is in the process of being taken over at the moment so Bridon may pass from FKI to someone else shortly. They spin steel wire and wire rope for the mining, construction and fishing industries, as well as offshore marine; the company also makes high carbon and stainless steel wire for engineering purposes.
The site is split by a river, and parts of it are still very much active: the western part is partially derelict. I was able to access a couple of the production buildings, which I think were the rope walk/ wire-spinning shed, plus the lead bath/ tempering facility. The overwhelming impression of the sheds is their length (the larger one is about 250 metres long), and how quickly Nature has claimed back the empty buildings. There’s also a small laboratory which is in better condition, plus various empty sheds which aren’t worth the candle. The eastern part is still active, and was bought from Bridon by the Lichfield Group in 2001; LB Plastics set up a plastic extrusion factory in another part of the site later in 2001. The two halves are joined by several bridges, and the river runs over a weir which looks like it may once have been used for generating hydro power: I believe there’s a self-contained power plant elsewhere on the site.
On the hillside above, there’s a creepy-looking Tudorbethan mansion house which was the original seat of the Johnson family; the stables and steading pertaining to it is now a Youth Hostel. The house itself, Oak Hurst, is in seriously bad disrepair, but I didn’t bother trying too hard to get inside as I had my fill of dodgy country houses after the orang-utan gymnastics required last month to get onto the upper floors of Travebank House in Angus … Anyhow, Oak Hurst is listed, so it can’t be demolished: it was offered for sale a year or two back for a token sum of £1, but the caveat is of course what you’d have to spend a fair bit more restoring it to the satisfaction of English Heritage.
Like East Fortune Hospital, the biggest hazard to exploring Oak Hurst Mills are dogwalkers … but it’s a pleasant place at this time of year when the bluebells are in flower in the oakwoods. Relaxed is the word.
This site at Ambergate had been a wire works since it was established in 1876 by the Johnson family. The company was run as Richard Johnson & Nephew, and at its peak the site employed over 500 people. As Havoc said in his report a while back, Johnsons specialised in telegraph wires and fencing, also suspension cables – even putting in a tender for the Brooklyn Bridge’s suspension wires. Richard Johnson & Nephew produced the telegraph cables laid underneath the English Channel during WW2 – they ran parallel to PLUTO, the fuel pipeline from Dungeness to Normandy. The suspension wires were steel, due to its tensile strength, but the wires for telegraphy were spun from copper, as it’s a better conductor. The wire mills at Ambergate became “Bridon Ropes, Johnson & Nephew Wire Works Ltd.” when Bridon took over in 1990 – wire-making ended in 1996, but Bridon contnued using Ambergate as a storage and distribution centre until the end of the decade.
Originally a separate company to Richard Johnson & Nephew, Bridon Wire was originally constituted as British Ropes in 1926. Bridon was acquired by the conglomerate F.K.I. in 1997, and operates as “Bridon International”; AFAIK, the parent company is in the process of being taken over at the moment so Bridon may pass from FKI to someone else shortly. They spin steel wire and wire rope for the mining, construction and fishing industries, as well as offshore marine; the company also makes high carbon and stainless steel wire for engineering purposes.
The site is split by a river, and parts of it are still very much active: the western part is partially derelict. I was able to access a couple of the production buildings, which I think were the rope walk/ wire-spinning shed, plus the lead bath/ tempering facility. The overwhelming impression of the sheds is their length (the larger one is about 250 metres long), and how quickly Nature has claimed back the empty buildings. There’s also a small laboratory which is in better condition, plus various empty sheds which aren’t worth the candle. The eastern part is still active, and was bought from Bridon by the Lichfield Group in 2001; LB Plastics set up a plastic extrusion factory in another part of the site later in 2001. The two halves are joined by several bridges, and the river runs over a weir which looks like it may once have been used for generating hydro power: I believe there’s a self-contained power plant elsewhere on the site.
On the hillside above, there’s a creepy-looking Tudorbethan mansion house which was the original seat of the Johnson family; the stables and steading pertaining to it is now a Youth Hostel. The house itself, Oak Hurst, is in seriously bad disrepair, but I didn’t bother trying too hard to get inside as I had my fill of dodgy country houses after the orang-utan gymnastics required last month to get onto the upper floors of Travebank House in Angus … Anyhow, Oak Hurst is listed, so it can’t be demolished: it was offered for sale a year or two back for a token sum of £1, but the caveat is of course what you’d have to spend a fair bit more restoring it to the satisfaction of English Heritage.
Like East Fortune Hospital, the biggest hazard to exploring Oak Hurst Mills are dogwalkers … but it’s a pleasant place at this time of year when the bluebells are in flower in the oakwoods. Relaxed is the word.