AFTER only a fairly short period of dry weather on the high fells, streams like the Stainforth Beck near Skipton epitomise the English countryside as benign, beautiful and unthreatening. There are dozens of these water courses in the Yorkshire and Durham dales and in the folds of the North York moors.

Usually there is nothing in their charming bubble and sparkle to provoke in carefree visitors any of the caution they are likely to exercise when beside the same water as it reaches deep and tidal estuaries many miles away.

Yet it is a peaceful idyll never more than a sudden thunderstorm away from dramatic change, let alone the heavy rain in the dales for days before the swollen Stainforth Beck last week carried away two schoolgirls so swiftly that the search for one of the bodies soon extended to the mouth of the River Ribble on the Lancashire coast.

It is a tragedy of a kind that, sadly, happens all too often in those more remote parts of England, mainly in the North, which, for all the Countryside Acts and other regulations, safeguards and warnings, resolutely refuse to be tamed completely. Sometimes the special circumstances of these accidents - the honeymoon couple drowned in the Wharfe's notorious Strid cutting was perhaps the last example before this ill-fated "river-walking" expedition by a school party - receive national publicity which, for a time, heightens safety consciousness.

But in the years between such high-profile incidents, there are regular losses of single lives at places like Teesdale's High Force waterfall, and dozens of lucky escapes at such as the ford across the River Wear at Stanhope.

There is always a degree of armchair-incredulity after drownings in streams which, even though running markedly higher and more swiftly than their usual quiescent state, are far from "out-of-one's-depth" deep. Total helplessness in the face of the Alpine torrents which at the weekend turned Swiss villages into matchwood is more easily understood.

What is forgotten, though, is that someone toppling from a slippery rock into a relatively shallow river often takes a fearful knock on the head from which there is no time to recover before being swept away; the victim is like a boxer so stricken that he is unable to ride a torrent of subsequent blows.

Something like that may have happened in the Skipton tragedy. It is a possibility that a simple miscalculation was made about what, in the abnormal conditions, might follow from a slip which on another day would merely mean soaked feet. The inquest is the forum at which it will emerge whether those in charge of the party had sufficient experience to make proper decisions on that sort of risk.

It has become almost a cliche to say that the recriminations after these heart-rending events must not include a ban on similar expeditions by youngsters or to impose stultifying restrictions. But it is nevertheless the case: if our young people are to be able to cope with the vicissitudes of life, of all kinds and at all levels, we must allow them the character-building freedom of exploring the great outdoors.

That is a principle which imposes great responsibility on those we trust to lead these expeditions. It is in the training of these people, and to give them every opportunity to gain the necessary experience, that we must look to see if there is room for improvement