It’s early February and the mood at the anti-fracking camp in the embattled village of Kirby Misperton, North Yorkshire, is one of cautious optimism. The camp, a collection of makeshift wooden buildings in a muddy field outside town, has been running since December 2016, but it’s only in the last five months that demonstrations against the fracking company Third Energy have flared up, leading to an extraordinary police presence around the village, more than 80 arrests and – just a couple of weeks ago – an apparent victory for the protesters.

I’m in the company of Observer photographer Gary Calton, who has been documenting events here for six months. Calton, who lives eight miles away, has pictures of protesters boarding lorries, lying down at the gates to the site and facing off against battalions of police. He has also captured more intimate moments, the protesters running through drills, chatting, sleeping and – a key activity on the freezing day I visit – simply keeping warm as they wait for the next chapter in the fracking saga to unfold.

Already established across North America and Australia, fracking is the controversial method of recovering gas or oil by injecting liquid at high pressure into shale rock. Its supporters in the UK claim it could boost our energy security and create thousands of jobs. Opponents warn that fracking could contaminate water supplies, cause air pollution and disrupt local communities, as well as furthering our dependence on fossil fuels in the face of global warming.

At Kirby Misperton, opposition came to a head last September as work got under way at the Third Energy site, just a few hundred metres from the village. The company had been approved by the government to carry out what have been the first fracking operations in the UK since 2011, when tests in Lancashire were linked to minor earthquakes in the area. Fracking is banned in Scotland and Northern Ireland, alongside a moratorium on the practice in Wales – and the campaigners in North Yorkshire had no intention of letting it gain a foothold in England without putting up a fight.

Calton’s photographs – part of a project on protest in the UK – capture some of the most dramatic moments. He was at the gates of the Third Energy facility when retired nurse Jackie Brooks, 79, was surrounded by police at her tea-and-cake stand in October and the time when a hooded protester scrambled on to a company lorry as police officers stood by, powerless to pull him down.

“Our tactics are there to obstruct and cause economic disruption, but not hurt anybody,” says local Eddie Thornton, who grew up in the area and helped establish the protest camp. “The whole campaign is about forcing the police into a health-and-safety conundrum. You put a barrel of concrete down with your arm locked into it – that forces them to call out a team to cut you out, which they have to do very carefully and slowly.”

Many of the protesters are locals from all walks of life – a university lecturer, a bishop, farmer, GPs and a lot of retired teachers – who had never imagined themselves confronting police officers, let alone lying down in front of a truck.

“I’ve complained at M&S before, but I’ve never protested,” Carol Towner tells me, shaking her head. A lifelong Tory voter, Towner, 54, was oblivious to fracking until she moved to nearby Pickering in February 2017. Since then, she has participated in lock-ons, picketed her local Conservative club and been charged with pouring hot coffee on an officer’s leg with intent to scald, a claim she strongly contests. The whole experience has made Towner rethink her political allegiances, given Tory support for the fracking industry.

It has also pitted her against other members of her community, who may not necessarily agree with fracking but are aghast at the protesters causing disruption in this usually sedate corner of North Yorkshire.

The collective action at Kirby Misperton appears to be yielding results. On 25 January, the energy secretary Greg Clark announced that he was withholding consent from Third Energy until it could prove it had the finances to carry out fracking properly and clean up afterwards. The protesters claim that their delaying tactics, in tandem with a wider campaign against fracking, weakened the company’s hand. Within days, Third Energy started removing key equipment from the site.

Eddie Thornton tells me he views Third Energy’s setback as “a huge victory. I don’t see them coming back. But Ineos is a far bigger adversary,” he adds, referring to the petrochemical giant that’s pushing hard to exploit shale reserves across the UK.

Outside the Third Energy gates, where a second protest camp lines the road, Jackie Brooks and her husband, Jim, are still serving tea and coffee to all comers. They too are cautiously optimistic but, like Carol Towner, are keenly aware of how the local community has been split. “The rumours have been so bad, misrepresenting the protesters,” says Jim. “They don’t stop to think that many of us are just like them, with homes in the area, with jobs, with children in schools and college.”

So far, no gas has been extracted from the shale beneath Kirby Misperton, and perhaps it will remain untouched for good. But in the divisions that have opened up among the residents of this beautiful part of North Yorkshire, fracking has already made its mark.

Eddie Thornton, 34: ‘Since joining the camp, I’ve been arrested seven times’

Eddie Thornton. Photograph: Gary Calton

Grew up four miles away in Pickering. He worked as an assistant producer at the BBC and was working as a videographer at a Buddhist monastery in France before joining the camp in December 2016

I’d been a part of a local anti-fracking movement for a few years, but I knew that my real role would begin when it got to the direct action stage. So when my community lost its case at the high court in December 2016, I asked permission from the monks to come home.

This is my first proper campaign. Since joining the camp, I’ve been arrested seven times. The most prominent was when we built a tower out of pallets so we could observe police conduct against protesters at the fracking site. I climbed the tower and stayed in it overnight so I could livestream it in the morning. I was arrested for obstructing a police officer, though I wasn’t obstructing anything. Now the conditions of my bail prevent me from going near the fracking site. They’ve used the arrest to curtail my right to protest.

It’s really difficult living a life of mud and conflict. Not everybody in my community supports me – some people don’t understand what we’re doing and why. When they see me, I see fear in their eyes. I’ve never had someone frightened of me before; that’s been really tough to get over.

Jim Brooks, 81: ‘I’m absolutely certain that our efforts here will succeed’

Jim Brooks. Photograph: Gary Calton

Grew up in Arkansas, served in the US navy for 20 years, then worked as a communications technician with Bendix and ITT. With his wife, Jackie (interview below), he’s been serving refreshments at the protest site since September

I’ve never done anything like this before. Due to my military background, getting involved in protests was not permissible. Jackie and I felt there was something we could do here – not actually getting involved in the activity, but making sure that anyone and everyone would be able to have a cup of tea, a biscuit, whatever it may be. It was God-inspired, to be honest. Because of that, our operation has grown from a single table to a caravan.

A lot of our food here is donated – we get homemade soup, pastries and pies. Donations go into a bucket and all proceeds go towards the camp. We get reimbursed for what we spend, but that’s it. There is no paycheck.

I’m absolutely certain that our efforts here will succeed. There’s too much equipment going out and not enough coming in. But if Third Energy leaves, there’s a danger that some other company might try to take over the site. So we’re going to stick around for a little while after they close this down, to see what happens.

Michelle Easton, 37: ‘The reward is to be able to say to the next generation, we’ve tried’

Michelle Easton. Photograph: Gary Calton

Grew up in Dorset. She studied countryside management and became a press officer with the Farming & Wildlife Advisory Group before joining the protest camp in August 2017

I’d only been to one protest before coming here – a CND protest at Faslane when I was 19. Last July, I went to visit Preston New Road, another fracking site near Blackpool, and met a couple of people from this camp. That’s when I started looking into the impacts of fracking. In August, I left everything behind and moved here full-time.

It’s been a massive sacrifice, leaving my job, my house and all my friends to come and live in a cold field in Yorkshire. I didn’t know anyone, but the camp and the local community have been incredibly welcoming. I’m tired a lot of the time, but it makes you feel alive to do something you believe in.

I’m part of the media team here, and I’m using my scientific training to check sources and make sure everything we put out is as accurate as possible. I was arrested once, when four of us dressed up as Bat Girls and did a lock-on to draw attention to a bat roost right next to the site. The environmental impact assessment was woefully inadequate: First Energy hadn’t even begun to identify the protected species in the immediate area.

I am running out of money now, but I’ll keep going for as long as I can. For me the reward is to take a stand against a really dangerous and destructive industry and to be able to say to the next generation, we’ve tried.

Helen Chuntso, 41: ‘When you see democracy failing people, then it’s time to put your boots on the ground’

Helen Chuntso. Photograph: Gary Calton

Lives in West Yorkshire, 90 minutes from Kirby Misperton. She has been campaigning against fracking since 2013, when she joined the protest at Barton Moss near Manchester

I used to work in health and safety regulation, so when I started looking at fracking I had an appropriate lens with which to examine the industry. I was really concerned by what I found. Since then, I’ve been working to expose the fact that the fracking industry cannot and will never operate safely, nor will it stick within its own operating framework. Whenever I’ve examined any permit or licence, I’ve discovered that the rules and the goalposts are changed all the time. This industry is not being regulated, it’s not safe.

When I saw that Kirby Misperton was running a campaign, I decided to get involved. At Barton Moss, I was a breastfeeding mother, so getting arrested was not on the menu. But as my children have grown older, I became more interested in the idea of actually blockading. I was not afraid of getting arrested. When you see democracy failing people, then it’s time to put your boots on the ground.

Communities may be conditioned into thinking they’re powerless. But when something like this comes along, it gives people the opportunity to engage in local democracy and realise that there is actually something they can do to make a change.

Jackie Brooks, 79: ‘A policeman walked over and said: I want you to move. I said: I’m not moving’

Jackie Brooks ( left) and Carol Towner. Photograph: Gary Calton

A retired nurse living in Little Barugh, near one of the fracking sites. Since September, she and her husband, Jim have been serving food and drink at the Third Energy gates

We weren’t sure how we were going to participate. I couldn’t climb on to a truck, and the thought of lying on the ground in a lock-on – no thanks! It came to me one day that serving tea would be a good thing to keep people happy. It’s changed our lives totally.

On 9 October, I was kettled by police. The protesters had built a tower to keep an eye on things. Next day a policeman walked over and said: “I want you to move. This tower might fall down and squash you.” I said: “It’s not going to fall down. I’m not moving.” Soon I had 12 to 15 policemen around me. One kept trying to take my arm and I told him to get off.

I was brought up to respect the police, but I thought what they were doing was wrong. The protesters are not violent people; when violence did erupt, it came from the police. Now I think it’s the government putting them in this position, forcing the police to protect a company that’s trying to destroy our countryside, when they should be protecting us.

Carol Towner, 54: ‘Life will never go back to normal’

Carol Towner after being dragged away from the gates of the fracking site. Photograph: Gary Calton

Sales consultant for an eco cleaning products company. She moved with her two children from Scarborough to Pickering, four miles from the Third Energy site, in February 2017

I hadn’t really paid attention to fracking until we moved here last year. An anti-fracking flyer came through the door and I thought, this can’t possibly be happening. Now my commitment is 110%. I send emails, write letters, ring people up, sign petitions, go to the Third Energy gates and protest. I have put my body on the line, stood in front of trucks, been carted off by police. If you strip it down, my job as a mother is to protect my children – and fracking is a threat to my family’s wellbeing.

I’ve always voted Conservative, but now I can’t walk in my true-blue Conservative shoes ever again. I’d like to wear green ones, but they’re not strong enough to get the Tories out. My world is turned upside-down. I need this government out and I have to vote strategically to make it happen.

Life will never go back to normal. Even if fracking is stopped at here, which I’m quietly confident it will be, I’ve got to keep going until it’s stopped everywhere in the UK. I won’t breathe easily until fracking is gone, full stop.