The river, the mysterious peat-brown being that descended from the high moors was, from the earliest times, a powerful presence in the valley. Before the Romans came the Celtic tribes of the north considered its waters to be sacred. So it was for later settlers who understood its many moods. They thought of the river as a living creature to be respected, not to be abused or taken for granted. Over the centuries this awareness was not entirely lost. There were still a few who kept in touch with the spirit of the river. They read the signs and watched for the warnings when the water began to flex its muscles and rip bankside trees from their moorings. These were the folk who knew when disaster might happen… * * * No one could ignore the river for long. There were times when it ran, tranqui

