The Faery Folklorist

Sad news

2012-01-27T23:55:00.000Z

I've just heard the very sad news that Thomas Samoht, author of the Westcountry Folklore blog, has sadly passed away. He will be sorely missed by everyone who had the pleasure of knowing him in the folklore community. His blog has been such an inspiration and a wonderful source of knowledge, and his passion for folklore truly brought his tales to life, and he certainly had plenty of strange and fascinating westcountry tales to tell! Thomas was always happy to lend a hand and share his knowledge whenever I had trouble finding a source or tracking down the origins of a story, and without his help I wouldn't have found nearly as many interesting faery places to visit in Dartmoor last summer!! You will be missed Thomas, and the Faery Folklore of the UK group won't be the same without you. My thoughts are with his wife, daughter, and family at this very sad time.

Corrie of the Urisks, Trossachs

2012-01-12T18:21:00.000Z

"By many a bard, in Celtic tongue,

Has Coire-nan-Uriskin been sung;

A softer name the Saxons gave,

And call'd the grot the Goblin-cave,

Gray Superstition's whisper dread

Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread;

For there, she said, did fays resort,

And satyrs hold their sylvan court."

- Lady of the Lake, Sir Walter Scott

Located next to Loch Katrine and situated at the side or base of Ben Venue, can be found the Corrie of the Urisks. It goes by many names, Coirre nan Uriskin, Coire na Uruisgean, Coir-n'an-Uriskin, Cove of the Goblin, Cove of the Satyrs, Cove of the Fairies, Den of the Ghosts, Den of the Wild Men, The Goblin's Cave, the names are quite possibly endless. To add to the mystery, the location of the site itself also seems to vary, with some refering to it as being at the base of Ben Venue, others saying it can be found on the side of the mountain, some say it is a cave, and others say it is a cove formation in the rocks. To add to the confusion even more, there is a sign post on the walk along the edge of Loch Katrine that points out some rocks that are also home to Urisks, and it's completely on the opposite side of the loch to where the Ordnance Survey map marks the cove as being. The sign refers to the corrie as being "near here" but gives no further directions.

'An historical account of the settlements of Scotch Highlanders in America prior to the peace of 1783' by John MacLean (1900) includes an illustration of the Coire-nan-Uriskin that can be seen here and describes the cove as being "situated near the base of Ben Venue", and a sketch of Coire nan Uriskin drawn in 1831 by Joseph Mallord William Turner can be seen here on the Tate Collection website.

Most agree that the habitants of the cove are Urisks, usually said to be furry goat-like creatures, similar to Brownies. Patrick Graham describes the cove in his 'Sketches of Perthshire' (1806):

"Ben Venue is rendered venerable in the superstition of the natives, by the celebrated Coirre nan Uriskin (the cove or recess of goblins) situated on the northern side of the mountain, and overhanging the lake in gloomy grandeur. The urisks were a sort of lubberly supernaturals, who, like the Brownies of England could be gained over by kind attentions, to perform the drudgery of the farm; and it was believed that many families in the Highlands had one of their order attached to it. They were supposed to be dispersed over the Highlands, each in his own wild recess; but the solemn stated meetings of the order were regularly held in this cave of Ben Venue."

In William Wilson's 'The Trossachs in Literature and Tradition' (1908) he quotes a 'Mr Ferguson' who offers a theory for the naming of the cove:

"The Urisks, I think, were the remnants of the Druids, driven into the wilds and persecuted by a rival religion, the Fingalian. The Urisks would be clothed in sheep or goat-skins, hence their 'hairy appearance, having a figure between a goat and a man.'"

William Stirling, in 'Notes, historical and descriptive, on the priory of Inchmahome' (1815) traces the Urisks back to the story of the Fairies of Menteith, writing that " in recompence of their Herculian toils, unfinished as they were, gave them a grant of the northern shoulder of one of his mountains, Ben-Venu. We are thus enabled so far to trace the history of the Urisks, previous to their settlement in this romantic district of the Monteath estate." (Blog entry on the Monteith Fairies coming soon!).

When in the Trossachs, we viewed the Corrie of the Urisks from the opposite side of Loch Katrine. However, Stott's 'Enchantment of the Trossachs' (1992) tells that you can reach it by a rough footpath from the Loch Achray Hotel, but alas we ran out of time and didn't get a chance to attempt that walk.

Before reaching the Corrie we came across this well illustrated Urisk information display...

According to the sign, Urisks still live under these rocks....

We walked further around the loch until we could finally see the Corrie of the Urisks. I can't be sure that the location I've interpreted as the Corrie is correct, and would be happy to receive any feedback on this, I've identified it using the location given on the Ordinance Survey map, and believe the corrie to be the rock valley formation in the side of the hill, or possibly a cove at the base, from this distance it was difficult to see too much detail in the rocks. Of this however I'm sure, there's definitely no shortage of rocks and crevices for Urisks to hide between!

Sources & Further Information
Lady of the Lake, Walter Scott
An historical account of the settlements of Scotch Highlanders in America prior to the peace of 1783, John MacLean
Sketches of Perthshire, Patrick Graham
The Trossachs in Literature and Tradition, William Wilson
Notes, historical and descriptive, on the priory of Inchmahome, William Stirling
Enchantment of the Trossachs, Louis Stott

Loch Chon, Trossachs

2012-01-12T15:31:00.000Z

I hope you all had a wonderful winter, and I apologise for the delay in adding the rest of my Trossach adventures! If any of you happen to use facebook, i'd like to invite you to join the 'Faery Folklore of the UK' group, a wonderful and friendly place to discuss fairy folklore, share stories and photos, and chit chat about folkloric things. Open to all, everyone welcome!

Next on my journey in the Trossachs was a visit to Loch Chon. It is perhaps best known for its resident kelpie or water-monster, but according to one source there are more faeries living at Loch Chon than anywhere else in the world! Well worth a visit then.

Louis Stott writes in 'Enchantments of the Trossachs' (1992), quoting Robertson's 'Selected Highland Folk Tales' (1961), and relates "a macabre folk-tale about a water-monster in Loch Chon, the dog loch. The story is about the murder of a young boy by a tinker who threw the lad into the loch where he was taken by a monster shaped like a dog." Stott continues, "A recent visitor to the spot had a vision of the same incident."

Further on in the book, Stott tells of how the loch became home to the fairies after they were banished from Menteith (blog on Menteith coming soon!), he writes that "some crossed over to the west of the River Forth, others went to the north, to live in the solitude of Balquhidder and Lochearnhead. The rest moved into the upper reaches of Strathard, which is why there are more faeries living at Loch Chon than anywhere else in the world."

Loch Chon is well sign posted and has it's own carpark, with a gravel track leading further into the trees and towards the loch. The path seems to vanish rather quickly and you're left with a few muddy paths to follow, some leading to the edge of the loch and others into the wooded areas.

We arrived at the loch approaching dusk, and found an eerie misty fog floating above the lake. The silence was extraordinary, not a sound for miles, and the loch was deathly still.

The shores of the loch are scattered with circles of rocks and burnt driftwood, the remains of camp fires. Deserted and forgotten, it's such a lonely place at dusk.

As time was getting on and dusk approaching, we bid farewell and returned a couple of days later when light was more plentiful. We decided to wander further into the wooded area, and found an enchanting abundance of fungus and mosses, all delicate and pretty...

.... and some less pretty, and more slimy and rather strange looking....

We found a mossy green tree throne, or the king of the mossy trees, it definitely had an air of royalty about it!

And lots of mossy green trees, that seemed to be paying respectful attention to the mossy green tree throne!

We spotted a grassy mound sprinkled with bracken and moss, with a definite feel of faerie about it, and lots of lovely mossy logs covered with mushrooms and tiny delicate lichen.

As with many locations associated with the fae, it's hard to know whether the place was once scene to a folkloric story or whether the association with the fae comes purely from the beauty and enchanting atmosphere, created by carpets of moss and gnarled old trees. I would love to hear from anyone who can point me in the direction of any other sources connecting Loch Chon with the fairies, as i'm very intrigued to know why there are said to be more fairies living at Loch Chon than anywhere else in the world!

Sources & Further Information

Selected Highland Folk Tales, Robertson

The Enchantment of the Trossachs, Stott

The Loch Venachar Kelpie

2011-11-10T19:33:00.000Z

Loch Venachar, or Vennacher as it's also known, was once home to a terrible beast, said by the locals to be a Waterhorse or Kelpie. The exact date of its first appearance seems to be unknown, but Graham wrote of it in 1806 in his book 'Sketches descriptive of Picturesque Scenery on the Southern Confines of Perthshire'. He wrote:

"Every lake had its kelpie, or water-horse, often seen by the shepherd, as he sat in a summer's evening, upon the brow of a rock, dashing along the surface of the deep, or browsing on the pasture ground, on its verge. Often did this malignant genius of the waters allure women and children to his subaqueous haunts, there to be immediately devoured. A most disastrous event of this kind is still current in tradition concerning the waterhorse of Lochvenachar. Often did he also swell the torrent or lake, beyond its usual limits, to overwhelm the hapless traveller in the flood."

The Each Uisge is was also written of by John Leyden when he visited the area in the year 1800. He wrote the following in his book 'Journal of a tour in the Highlands and Western Islands of Scotland in 1800':

"Our guide informed us that the people of the vale had been a good deal alarmed by the appearance of that unaccountable being the waterhorse (Each Uisge) during the spring, which had not been seen there since the catastrophe of Corlevrann, the wood of woe, when he carried into the loch fifteen children who had broken Pace Sunday. I made enquiries concerning the habits of the animal, and was only able to learn that its colour was brown, that it could speak, and that its motion agitated the lake with prodigious waves, and that it only emerged in the hottest midday to be on the bank."

A quick google search revealed that 'Pace Sunday' usually refers to Passover (or sometimes Easter), though I can't find any references to the phrase 'broken Pace Sunday. Perhaps it means that they ate leavened food during Passover when they weren't supposed to? If someone recognises this phrase I would be intrigued to know.

Leyden refered to the kelpie incident as the "catastrophe of Corlevrann, the wood of woe", but I cannot find any place with that name nearby. However, there is a place on the Ordinance Survey map on the northern shore named Coille a' Bhroin. According to Groome's Ordnance Gazetteer of Scotland (1896 edition), "A wooded bank on the N shore bears the name of Coillebhroine ('wood of lamentation'), from a legend of a malignant water-kelpie". Coille a' Bhroin also appears on a map dated 1866 on the Old Maps website. So it does seem that the Coille a' Bhroin on the OS maps is the location of the woods where the kelpie incident occurred.

'The Enchantment of the Trossachs' by Stott (1992) claims that the kelpie "seized some young children who bathed in the Loch. To this day, the wood at this point is called the wood of lamentation." So it appears that the wood was named in memory of this tragic event. It is sad that it lies forgotten in modern times and that there are no signs relating the story to those who park in the carpark opposite, unaware of the tragedy that happened only a few steps away, and the danger that lurks beneath the waves lapping at their toes.

Sources & Further Information
Sketches descriptive of Picturesque Scenery on the Southern Confines of Perthshire, Graham
Journal of a tour in the Highlands and Western Islands of Scotland in 1800, Leyden
Ordnance Gazetteer of Scotland, Groome
The Enchantment of the Trossachs, Stott
The Lore of Scotland, Westwood & Kingshill
Historical Perspective for Venachar, Loch
Old Maps Website, Loch Venachar

The Fairy Hills of Strathyre

2011-11-10T16:09:00.001Z

Not far from Balquhidder is the picturesque village of Strathyre, with Beinn an t-Sidhein towering above, also known as the Faery Mountain. According to the In Callander Website, "Strictly speaking, Beinn an t-Sidhein is only partly a faery hill, despite the name. It has a knoll-shoulder on the south side called An Sidhean which is the faery hill and which is part of Beinn an t-Sidhein."

The fairy hill also gets a mention in Margaret Bennett's essay 'Balquhidder Revisted' from 'Good People, New Fairylore Essays' (1991) by Peter Narvaez. The author spoke to a 90 year old local lady, named Mrs Macgregor in the essay, who mentions Beinn an t-Sidhein as a fairy hill. She fondly recalls the days when it was bare of trees, before the Forestry Commission covered it in trees, a move that seems to have been unpopular with the locals.

Unfortunately I have not been able to find any stories as to how the hill became associated with the faeries, but would love to hear from anyone who can shed light on this matter. Below are some views of Beinn an t-Sidhein, taken from the village.

On the opposite side of the glen can be found another faery hill, Cnoc an t-Sidhein, also known as the Faery Knoll. This little wooded knoll is now the site of the village war memorial, but tucked away behind the knoll is a beautiful little stream with mossy banks, perhaps the original site of the fairies. When you reach the fork in the path, take the right fork to venture up the Faery Knoll, or the left path to the river....

There is another fairy hill marked on the Ordinance Survey maps for Strathyre, 'Sidheag'. It is located along the river below Beinn an t-Sidhein but I'm not sure where exactly as the contours of the landscape are hidden deep beneath the trees and braken. I think Sidheag is somewhere around here though!!

As with my previous entry, I haven't managed to find much information about these hills, but hope the information I have given is correct and that I have taken photos of the right hills! Unfortunately I lack multiple sources to check the information against and only have the Ordinance Survey map to go by on this entry, so please feel free to add a comment if you have any further information or have spotted a mistake! :)

Sources & Further Information
Balquhidder Revisited, Margaret Bennett
Good People. New Fairylore Essays, P Narvaez
In Callander Website, Fairies and Fairy Knolls and Hills

Tom-nan-Aingeal, Balquhidder

2011-11-10T14:41:00.000Z

I'm taking a brief pause from my updates on the faeries of Dartmoor, to write of my adventures this past week in Aberfoyle and the surrounding Trossachs area. I hope to finish writing up my Dartmoor adventures soon though, I still have a few stories left to tell, I just haven't finished the research yet! So this past week, my partner and I have been wandering around the very rainy and autumnal Trossachs. The main reason for my wanderings was to visit Tom-nan-Aingeal, the Knoll of Fire, on one of the two days of the year it was seen as most special and magical, Samhain. The other being Beltane. Elizabeth Beauchamp explains more in 'The Braes O' Balquhidder' (1981), she describes it was a landmark traditionally associated with the pre-Christian days, and writes:

"In early days, and, it seems, right up until perhaps the beginning of the 19th century, twice a year, on the first of May and the first of November a fire was lit on Tom-nan-Aingeal. All other fires in the village were put out and up the folk went to the knoll of the fire to receive new fire to rekindle their hearths. This knoll probably had Druid associations."

The exact date given for the Balquhidder Samhain celebrations does seem to vary, with some sources saying the Samhain celebrations were held on the 31st October, and others saying 1st November. As you might have already guessed, the Knoll of Fire is also associated with the fairies. Balquhidder itself is described by some as a 'thin place', where the veil between this world and the otherworld is particularly thin, perhaps allowing the faery folk to pass between worlds. It is also worth a mention that the Reverend Robert Kirk, writer of the 'Secret Commonwealth of Elves Fauns and Fairies', was minister of the church located next to Tom-nan-Aingeal, and in his manuscript wrote:

"There Be manie places called Fayrie hills, which the mountain people think impious and dangerous to peel or discover, by taking earth or wood from them; superstitiously beleiving the souls of their predecessors to dwell yr. And for that end (say they) a Mote or Mound was dedicated beside everie Church-yard, to receave the souls, till their adjacent Bodies arise, and so became as a Fayrie-hill. They using bodies of air when called abroad."

He does not mention the Tom-nan-Aingeal mound at Balquhidder where he was once minister, but as that mound is located a short way behind the church and is said locally to be a fairy hill, perhaps it was this church and mound he had in mind while righting this, we can only speculate. For more information on Robert Kirk and the Fairies, please see my previous entries on Balquhidder, Aberfoyle Church, and Doon Hill.

The main source for information connecting the knoll with the fairies is an essay titled 'Balquhidder Revisted' written by Margaret Bennett and published in 'Good People, New Fairylore Essays' (1991) by Peter Narvaez. Margaret talked to the people of Balquhidder and collected their stories, including those of local children, and a 90 year old lady, refered to in the essay as Mrs MacGregor. She said that she believed that Robert Kirk would go out there to the fairy hill near the church in Balquhidder, and to Strathyre as well. The author, when visiting the local school, was told by a child that "I heard that there was a fairy mound up the back behind the church... it sounds hollow there, like it's empty inside." Other children agreed and said that it is "different to other places" which don't have the same hollow sound when you tap it, and that it is "very special.. where the fairies live". The children described the fairies as small, the size of your finger or thumb, and like themselves but smaller, and looking like ordinary people but wearing kilts. Interestingly, Robert Kirk himself described the fairies as "Their apparell and speech is like that of the people and countrey under which they live: so are they seen to wear plaids and variegated garments in the high-lands of Scotland". One child goes into further detail and describes them as wearing the local MacLaren tartan and suggests that perhaps the fairies are the spirits of the MacLarens who once lived in the area. Which also seems eerily similar to theories written by Robert Kirk. Further information is given in this essay, but it would be unfair of me to quote too much of it, and I encourage those interested to purchase a copy of the book.

The book contains a photo of the fairy knowe, but until I visited the mound myself I was unsure of the actual location. Tom-nan-Aingeal has a very obvious gravestone on the top, of a past reverend of the church, and this did not feature in the photograph in the book. But once at the mound I came to the conclusion that the photo is taken from near the gravestone and looking towards the river, though it's difficult to be sure as there are no obvious landmarks in the photo. It was a very damp day when we visited, and I did gently tap the hill a few times but it was so covered with damp leaves that it was hard to tell if it did indeed seem hollow or not. Hopefully I've jumped to the right conclusion and this is indeed the fairy hill refered to in local stories, but if any locals are reading this and can confirm or correct me, I'd be very grateful for your input and comments!

Sources & Further Information
The Secret Commonwealth of Elves Fauns and Fairies, Robert Kirk
The Braes O' Balquhidder, Elizabeth Beauchamp
Balquhidder Revisited, Margaret Bennett
Good People. New Fairylore Essays, P Narvaez
The Secret Commonwealth and the Fairy Belief Complex, Brian Walsh

Cutty Dyer, Ashburton

2011-10-18T14:34:00.000+01:00

The title of most nasty fae creature in Devon should belong to none other than the dreaded Cutty Dyer of Ashburton. This bloodthirsty sprite or ogre is said to lure naughty children to the banks of the Yeo, slitting their throats and drinking their blood. Some sources say he is particularly fond of the King's Bridge in the centre of the town.

Reports and Transactions of the Devonshire Association for the Advancement of Science, Literature, and Art. Volume XI. (1879) includes an article by P. F. S. Amery regarding Cutty Dyer.

"Old townspeople of Ashburton recollect well the dread of their lives when children, was a mysterious being supposed to inhabit the river Yeo, with whose displeasure and its undefined consequences they were threatened by parents and nurses as a punishment for disobedience and childish frolics. To the generation before, namely, to our great grandparents, "Cutty Dyer" was the dread of their more matured years, and was supposed to inflict summary punishment on topers as they reeled with difficulty by night through the dark streets to their houses."

"He was described by persons who saw him as being very tall, standing in the water to his waist, with red eyes as large as saucers, endeavouring to pull them into the water. When the stream was bridged he remained only a scare to children, and on the streets being lighted disappeared altogether. He is remembered, however, as "Cutty Dyer," but how the second name became added I cannot guess. I may mention there is a Cuttyford Bridge about half-a-mile above Ashburton, on the same stream."

Amery gives an interesting theory into how the legend of Cutty Dyer came about, suggesting that the origin lies with Saint Christopher:

"Christianity taught that all objects of pagan worship were devils, and their influence therefore baneful to man. The giant Saint Christopher was afterwards introduced as a sort of patron to fords and bridges to neutralize the evil effects of the water sprite. In the old churchwardens' book at Ashburton we find the following entry, under date of 1536-7: "Paid vj for lokyn of the stocke to make Saynt Cristoffer." We also find, under the date 1538-9, the following among other payments: "jx"- in part payment of the greater sum for making the image of St. Christopher." At the Reformation it was dethroned, and most probably cast into the brook, and Christopher or " Cutty " became the ogre, and was supposed to lie in wait for drunkards crossing the stream."

The Legendary Dartmoor Website tells a story from William Crossing of two men walking late at night along the bank of the river Yeo, when they encountered Cutty Dyer. He is described here as an ogre with "great goggle-eyes", black hair hanging over his shoulders in twisted snake-like locks, a beard of the same colour, and teeth like a shark. Lucky for the men, they escaped unharmed. The whole story can be read here.

A more recent mention of Cutty Dyer is given on the BBC website, where Town Clerk John Germon gives an insight into the town of Ashburton. In this article he gives mention to Cutty Dyer, saying: "As young boys we were told not to hang around Kings Bridge after dark as 'Cutty Dyer' the evil water sprite would seek out children, cut their throats and drink their blood!!! An old wives tale or a story to keep children away from this area? Who knows, the only thing I know is it worked for me!"

Whilst in Devon I paid a visit to Ashburton, and carefully peered over the sides of the bridge where he is said to most often lurk. I'm not easily spooked, but I admit that my inner child was a little reluctant to lean over the bridge just incase, and I certainly wouldn't want to lift the cover to the metal grate as it looks like the perfect place for Cutty Dyer to be hiding, lying in wait...

I would like to give great thanks to Thomas, owner of the Westcountry Folklore Blog, for his help in researching this blog entry and providing me with lots of very useful and helpful information. I thoroughly recommend you all take a look at his wonderful blog!

Sources & Further Information
Reports and Transactions of the Devonshire Association for the Advancement of Science, Literature, and Art. Volume XI.
Westcountry Folklore Blog
Legendary Dartmoor, Cutty Dyer
BBC Website, Ashburton Article

Wisht Hounds Part 3 - The Dewerstone

2011-10-18T12:51:00.000+01:00

One of the most mentioned locations for the Wisht Hounds is the Dewerstone. This tall and craggy hill that dominates the landscape is said to be home to the Black Huntsman himself, known in this location as Dewer, and thought to be an incarnation of his infernal majesty, The Devil. An early mention of the Dewerstone is found in Notes and Queries Issue 61 (1850):

"The Dewerstone is a lofty mass of rock rising above the bed of the Plym, on the southern edge of Dartmoor. During a deep snow, the traces of a naked human foot and of a cloven hoof were found ascending to the highest point. The valley below is haunted by a black headless dog. Query, is it Dewerstone, Tiwes-tun, or Tiwes-stan?"

Murray, in his 'A hand-book for travellers in Devon and Cornwall' (1851), elaborates further on this and claims "on stormy winter nights the peasant has heard the"whist hounds" sweeping through the rocky valley, with cry of dogs, winding of horns and "hoofs thick - beating on the hollow hill." Their unearthy "master" has been sometimes visible - a tall swart figure with a hunting pole. Dewerstone is probably "Tiw's-stan," the rock of Tiw, the Saxon diety from whom we derive the name of Tuesday".

He also tells the story of the footprints in the snow. It may be from these descriptions, or an earlier source they are quoting, that the story arose of the Black Huntsman leading victims up to the rocky crags, or chasing them, and then disappearing leaving them to stumble around in the darkness and eventually lose their footing and plummet to their death. Another account of the Devil's footprints can be found in the Devonian Year Book 1910. Unfortunately no exact location is given for where the footprints were found.

"Some of you may remember the great excitement caused by mysterious footprints in the snow in the great snowstorm of 1881. These footprints were not those of any known animal, they were at enormous distances apart, and neither hedges nor houses formed any obstruction. Parents were afraid to allow their children to go to school, and for some time the whole country was in a state of panic. The mystery has never been solved."

Baring-Gould writes of Dewer in 'A Book of Folklore' (1913) and suggests a motive, he is hunting for human souls:

"There is a great cliff of granite rising precipitately above the River Plym that debouches at Plymouth, which goes by the name of the Dewerstone, or the rock of Tiu or of Tyr. On the top of this crag the Wild Huntsman is said to be frequently seen along with his firebreathing Wish-hounds, and his horn is heard ringing afar over the moors, and as he chases the yelping of his hounds may be heard. He hunts human souls. Two old ladies who lived at Shaw, near by, assured me that they had often heard his horn and the yelping of the pack.

So along to the Dewerstone we headed. Today, the area is well marked with trails and paths so is not quite the dangerous trek it once was, though if like us you miss the old mining track and end up scrambling straight up the hill, it's a bit more strenuous and stressful! The journey begins by crossing the river, and following the path that curves....

Past the little cave with the rocky face, and up the stoney path that leads you up the hill....

Follow the little track on the right, but not too far, and you'll reach the main pillars of the Dewerstone. I didn't venture too near the edge, and some of the rocks were being used by rock climbers, but I hope these photos give an idea of just how far the drop down is! Imagine being led here in darkness by a cloven hooved gentleman, who suddenly disappears, leaving you to fumble around in the dark, before placing one foot a little too near the edge....

We continued up the hill, accidently completely missing the easier miner's path, and eventually came to the summit. At the very summit lies a large rock, carved with the name 'W Ford' and some other writing. The views are spectacular.

My story doesn't end there. Not far from the summit I discovered a beautiful and magical hidden gem, where the sun sparkled through the oak leaved trees, and bounced off the moss covered boulders. Hidden amongst the trees is a little rocky shelter, and 2 trees stand together like a doorway to faerie.

I will leave this entry with a chilling short story found in an article titled 'Folklore Parallels and Coincidences' by M J Walhouse, published in Vol 8 No 3 of the Sept 1897 edition of the Folklore Journal.

"A story is told of this phantom that a farmer, riding across the moor by night, encountered the Black Hunter, and being flushed with ale, shouted to him "Give us a share of your game!" The Huntsman thereupon threw him something that he supposed might be a fawn, which he caught and carried in his arms till he reached his home, one of the old moorland farms. There arrived, he shouted, and a man came out with a lantern. "Bad news, master," said the man; "you've had a loss since you went out this morning." "But I have gained something," answered the farmer, and getting down brought what he had carried to the lantern, and beheld---his own dead child! During the day his only little one had died."

Sources & Further Information
Notes and Queries, Issue 61
A Hand-book for Travellers in Devon and Cornwall, Murray
Devonian Year Book 1910
A Book of Folklore, Baring-Gould
Folklore Parallels and Coincidences, M J Walhouse
The Modern Antiquarian, Dewerstone Settlement
Legendary Dartmoor, The Dewerstone
Shaugh.Net - Dewerstone
The Mysteries of the Dewerstone Walk, AA Website

Wisht Hounds Part 2 - Abbot's Way & Richard Cabell

2011-10-18T10:59:00.001+01:00

Wistman's Woods are not the only location on Dartmoor said to be haunted by the Wisht Hounds. James Motley in his 'Tales of the Cymry' (1848) states "Certain spots on Dartmoor are more commonly haunted by the wish hounds than others, Several ancient roads are mentioned as their peculiar resorts, as "The Abbot's Way", "The Ridge Road", and on certain nights, of which St John's Eve is always one, they are supposed to go in procession through the long deep shady lanes which abound in this district."

Hunt, in his 'Popular Romances of the West of England' (1865) writes, "The Abbot's Way on Dartmoor, an ancient road which extends into Cornwall, is said to be the favourite coursing ground of the wished or wisked hounds of Dartmoor".

Whilst visiting Dartmoor we decided to take a look at Abbot's Way for ourselves, and walked along the stretch near Cross Furzes that continues out on to the wilds of the moors. We walked along the path to the Abbot's Way, past the ancient gnarled trees, and over the mossy stone bridge...

This lead us on to the Abbot's Way.

We stopped to take a look at some muddy paw prints. It must have been rather terrifying in days of old, to be walking along the Abbot's Way and come across a trail of fresh paw prints, hear the distant wild yelping of the Wisht Hounds, and know the Wild Hunt was near....

The gate that marks the beginning and end of the moors.

The path continues over the open moors, with rolling hills and ancient standing stones...

The Black Huntsman and his hounds did not make an appearance I'm glad to say, but we did decide to pursue the legend further and headed to Buckfastleigh Holy Trinity Church, the resting place of Richard Cabell, a wicked man of local legend associated with the Hell Hounds of Dartmoor.

Baring-Gould writes in the Methuen's Little Guide on Devonshire (1907) that "Before the S. porch is the enclosed tomb of Richard Cabell of Brooke, who died in 1677. He was the last male of his race, and died with such an evil reputation that he was placed under a heavy stone, and a sort of penthouse was built over that with iron gratings to it to prevent his coming up and haunting the neighbourhood. When he died the story goes that fiends and black dogs breathing fire raced over Dartmoor and surrounded Brooke, howling."

Embellished versions of the tale tell that he was an evil man and keen huntsman who sold his soul to the devil, or that he killed his wife, though other versions say that his wife outlived him by 14 years at least. Another version of the tale says that Richard Cabell beat his wife and accused her of infidelity, and chased her over the moor, catching her and stabbing her to death in a fit of rage. It is said that her faithful hound tore out his throat in revenge, and that both fell to their deaths. Another version tells how on the night of his burial a pack of phantom hounds bayed across the moor and sat howling at his tomb. Some say he leads the hounds on hunts across the moors, sometimes with a headless horse and coach. Many of these versions and more can be found on the Legendary Dartmoor website, including some interesting information about a cave below his tomb.

It is thought by some that the tale of Richard Cabell inspired the writing of Conan Doyle's Hound of the Baskervilles. In January 1907 Cecil Turner wrote to Arthur Conan Doyle and asked if Hound of the Baskervilles was based on the Black Dog of Herguest Court legend. He replied in a letter, "My story was really based on nothing save a remark of my friend Fletcher Robinson's that there was a legend about a dog on the moor connected with some old family", this quote comes direct from the letter, that was sold through Bonhams Auction house.

We headed along to Buckfastleigh Holy Trinity Church to take a look at Richard Cabell's tomb, and it certainly does have an eerie feeling surrounding it.

According to the Legendary Dartmoor website, the sold wooden door at the back was placed there to deter Satanists from gaining entry, as black magic rites have been carried out at the church and at Richard Cabell's tomb. The church itself was very badly damaged by fire in July 1992 when the church was broken into and a fire started under the altar, and what stands now is little more than a ruin with no roof and crumbling walls. In the church remains I found the below pentagram scratched on to the wall, though for what sinister purpose I'd rather not know...

Sources & Further Information
Tales of the Cymry, James Motley
Popular Romances of the West of England, Hunt
Methuen's Little Guide on Devonshire, Baring-Gould
Legendary Dartmoor Website, Buckfastleigh Church
British Listed Buildings, Richard Cabell Tomb

History of Holy Trinity Church, Buckfastleigh

Wisht Hounds Part 1 - Wistman's Wood

2011-10-04T17:47:00.000+01:00

This entry is a little bit different, but I hope it will still be of interest to readers of the blog. Whilst researching pixies and fairies I come across a lot of information about other folkloric creatures and characters, and particularly find interesting those of hell hounds and wild huntsmen. I think the character of the wild huntsman or dark rider is a very primal being, possibly one of the oldest, that of a strong and wild man who rides the forest, hunting prey without mercy. This isn't the hunting of the modern world, for fun and sport, this is hunting to kill for survival. For the record i'm a vegetarian and very much against the hunting of animals, but there came a time when hunting was a part of the cycle of life, and man was hunted as well as the hunter. The wild huntsman reminds us of these days, a time when man would hear the pounding of hooves approaching, and feel the wild fear in his thumping heart, and the adrenaline coarsing through his body as he ran to save not only his life, but his immortal soul too.

Interestingly, the fairies also find their way into the myths of the Wild Hunt. Are they not said to hunt with elf-shot? Striking humans with these rough flint implements, leaving them crippled or worse. According to Robert Kirk's 'The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns, and Fairies' (written 1691, published 1893), "Their weapons are most what solid earthly Bodies, nothing of Iron, but much of stone, like to yellow soft Flint spa, shaped like a barbed arrow-head, but flung like a Dairt, with great force. These Armes (cut by Airt and Tools it seems beyond humane) have something of the Nature of Thunderbolt subtilty, and mortally wounding the vital Parts without breaking the Skin; of which Wounds I have observed in Beasts, and felt them with my Hands."

Gwyn ap Nudd also provides a connection, being said to be both King of the Welsh Fairies, the Tylwyth Teg, and King of Annwn, the Welsh Otherworld or Underworld. He is said to ride as leader of the Wild Hunt, with his pack of wild hounds the Cwn Annwn. They are said to be white with blood red ears, and howl a wild lamentation, with their howls becoming quieter the nearer they get.

In Dartmoor, these Hounds of Hell are given the name of Wisht Hounds, or a variation of such. According to Traditions, Superstitions & Folklore by Charles Hardwick (1872), a writer in the Quarterly Review of July 1836 wrote, "the wild huntsman still lingers in Devonshire. He says, "the spectre pack which hunts over Dartmoor is called the 'wish hounds', and the black 'master' who follows the chase is no doubt the same who has left his mark of wistman's wood," a neighbouring forest of dwarf oaks."

James Motley in his 'Tales of the Cymry' (1848) states "Certain spots on Dartmoor are more commonly haunted by the wish hounds than others, Several ancient roads are mentioned as their peculiar resorts, as "The Abbot's Way", "The Ridge Road", and on certain nights, of which St John's Eve is alwats one, they are supposed to go in procession through the long deep shady lanes which abound in this district." He describes them as "rough, swarthy, and of huge size, with fiery sparks shooting from their eyes and nostrils." and tells "It is not safe to leave the door of the house ajar, for in this case they have the power of entering, and have been known to devour sleeping children in the absence of the household." "They are guided by the master, a dark gigantic figure, carrying a long hunting pole at his back, and with a horn slung around his neck."

As terrifying as they sound, according to the Devonian Year Book 1910, "The hounds can be kept away by placing a crust of bread beneath the pillow of the sleeping child. Originally, no doubt, the breads was such as had been consecrated for sacramental use, but there is apparently now no such restriction."

Despite all of the terrible stories, this unbaptised soul decided to investigate further and visit some of the sites where the Wisht Hounds are said to most often frequent. First on my list was Wistman's Wood, an ancient copse of dwarf oak trees. Some think the woods to be an ancient Druid grove, and the Buller stone to have been once used by Druids. Others say the woods are the kennel of the Wish Hounds, and that Old Crockern, the spirit of Dartmoor, releases them from their kennels and rides of a skeleton horse in pursuit of lonely travellers. Some sources say that no dog will set foot in the copse, though after witnessing this with my own eyes I can confirm it is not true, though the owner did tell me that the dog tends to get very wishty and wild when walked on the moors.

I have not been able to find any older sources about Wisht Hounds in Wistman's Wood unfortuntunately. Mrs Bray mentions the woods in 'A Description of the Part of Devonshire Bordering on the Tamar and the Tavy' (1836) as being "where the groves of the wise men, or Druids once stood" but does not mention the hounds as far as I could see. The quote from Charles Hardwick's Traditions, Superstitions & Folklore (1872) refering to the 'black master' who left his mark on Wistman's Wood is most curious, and I would love to see a copy of the article from the Quarterly Review of July 1836 of which he is quoting from, but have been unable to locate a copy so far. If anyone can assist I would be most grateful.

On our visit to Wistman's Wood we parked at Two Bridges, and were met with rather foggy misty weather. All week the weather had been rather grumpy so we were well prepared with map and compass and safety items just incase the mists worsened, you can never be too careful. Onwards we walked along the rocky path, and eventually out we came on to the moors.

The mists created a haunting eerie atmosphere, and the dark silhouette of the woods looming in the distance added a feeling of foreboding.

We wandered into the woods, treading carefully as the woods are a protected nature reserve, and were greeted by this ancient looking tree guardian, or perhaps a Tolkienesque Ent.

Onwards we delved, shrouded in mists and mysteries. Gnarled and wise old trees surrounding us in every direction, with mossy green boulders offering the most comfy of seats.

Then we came upon the Druid Stone, or Buller stone. Although the entire area is littered with boulders of all shapes and sizes, this one does stand out among it's brothers and sisters.

Just as we reached the far end of the woods, the mists began to clear and we were treated to beautiful glossy green views through the entire forest...

For further information on the legends and history of Wistman's Wood, I recommend the Legendary Dartmoor website.

Sources and Further Information
The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns, and Fairies, Robert Kirk
British Goblins, Wirt Sykes
Traditions, Superstitions & Folklore, Charles Hardwick
Tales of the Cymry, James Motley
Legends, superstitions, and sketches of Devonshire, Mrs Bray
Westcountry Folklore Blog
Legendary Dartmoor, Wistman's Wood

Pixies of Bellever Tor, Dartmoor

2011-10-04T15:02:00.000+01:00

A slightly humorous story of pixies on Dartmoor is the Huccaby Courting. I'm sure it was less than amusing to the young man involved, but I can't help but wonder if he really did meet with pixies or was just terribly bad at letting a lady down gently that he was no longer interested in courting her!

Tales of the Dartmoor Pixies (1890) by William Crossing tells that a young buxom lass was the "presiding genius" of the dairy at Huccaby Farmhouse, on the left bank of the West Dart, just above Hexworthy Bridge. She was said to be an attractive lady, and there was much rivalry among her admirers, but Tom White of Post Bridge was her favoured suitor. As Crossing points out, Post Bridge is 5 miles or so from Huccaby, and his farm duties would not permit poor love struck Tom to visit his lady during the day time, so he was forced to visit her in the evenings. "After a hearty evening meal--for Tom did not believe in making love upon an empty stomach--he would set out to walk the five miles like a man, and at the close of the interview with his fair "Dulcinea" would trudge back again to his home. A walk of ten miles after a day spent in labour is an undertaking that many men would shrink from: but what is it to a man in love?"

One summer evening, Tom stayed longer than usual, and as he began the trek home and mounted the slope behind her house, he noticed that dawn was approaching. He knew that he'd have to hurry home if he wanted to catch some sleep before he was due back at work in the morning. He walked over Lakehead Hill, and reached the slope of Bellaford Tor (present day Bellever Tor).

Tom passed the walls of the new-takes and approached the tor itself, when "he fancied he heard sounds as of merry voices in the distance." He paused again but the sounds were so faint that he decided he must be be mistaken and it was the sighing of the wind. Onwards he went.

The rocks of the tor began to rise infront of him, and the ground was strewn with granite blocks, so he proceeded with caution but eventually arrived at the tor, and threaded his way through the rocks with the intention of passing on one side of it. Suddenly, he heard sounds similiar to those earlier, and he looked around to discover from whence the noise of the merry party came. "Instantaneously it flashed into his mind that he had approached a pixy gathering, and stepping at that instant round a huge granite block, he came upon a strange and bewildering sight. On a small level piece of velvety turf, entirely surrounded by boulders, a throng of little creatures were assembled, dressed in most fantastic costumes. A great number of them had joined hands, and were dancing merrily in a ring, while many were perched upon the rocks around, and all were laughing and shouting with glee."

Poor Tom was terrified, not knowing whether to turn back the way he came or proceed on hurridly past the gathering. He decided to try and continue unseen and pass on the opposite side of the tor, when the little folks spotted him, "instantly forming a ring round him, danced more furiously than ever. As they whirled around, Tom was constrained to turn around with them, although, so rapid was their pace. that he was utterly unable to keep up with their frantic movements. Each one, too, was joining in the elfin chorus as loud as his little lungs would enable him, and although they danced and sting with all their might they never seemed to tire. In vain Tom called upon them to stop--his cries only causing the pixies to laugh the merrier--while they seemed to have no intention whatever of discontinuing their antics. Tom's head began to swim round; he put out his arms wildly, his legs felt as if they would give way under him; but yet he could not avoid spinning around in a mad whirl. He would have given worlds to stop, and endeavoured in vain to throw himself on the grass: the mazy gallop still continued, and poor Tom was compelled to take his part in it."

Lucky for Tom, the sun began to rise above the ridge of Hameldon, and at the first sight of the sun the noise stopped and the pixies vanished among the crevices in the rocks, and Tom hurried home as fast as he could. Poor Tom was so frightened by his experiences that he vowed never to go courting again, and the "buxom damsel of Huccaby" lost her lover forever. As Crossing points out, "It is probable there were not wanting those who were ready to doubt that Tom White ever saw the pixies at all, and were prepared to assign as a reason for his belief that he did so the probability of his having been regaled on something a little stronger than water" but Tom was insistent that his experiences were true. What became of the lady is unfortunately unknown.

There is a lovely original piece of music called 'The Pixies of Bellever Tor' on the John Craton Home Page, available to download for free. It fits the story beautifully and is well worth a listen.

Whilst on holiday in Dartmoor, my partner and I paid visit to Bellaford Tor. As William Crossing points out in his 'A Hundred Years on Dartmoor' (1901), Bellaford Tor was also called Believer Tor by the Moormen. Today it seems to be named on maps as Bellever Tor. There is a pay and display Forestry Commission Bellever Car Park and signposted Bellever Forest walks, a combination of the red and yellow trails will take you to the tor itself. As we walked out of the car park we saw a pair of lovely Dartmoor ponies.

We took the red path and followed the path through the woods, with views of the tor, stopping to pick a few whortleberries here and there.

We spotted this lovely toadstool, what a lovely stereotypical fairy mushroom!

Eventually we reached the rocky path that climbs up to the tor. Lots of lovely gorse bushes, and stunning views over the forests below.

We then joined the yellow path to the tor, and found ourselves in the terrain described in the Huccaby Courting story, the ground strewn with granite blocks, with plenty of places for pixies to hide.

The story tells of the pixies appearing in a "small level piece of velvety turf, entirely surrounded by boulders" and there are no shortage of places this could refer to, and no shortage of places where you might spot the pixies perched upon rocks, laughing with glee and mischief!

There's also definitely no shortage of places for the pixies to hide between their moonlit revels, with crevices between rocks, and gaps under huge granite boulders.

I also met a couple of very characterful natural formations. Mr Wise Old Toad, a rock that looked remarkably like a toad (just not in the photo, honest!!), and a mysterious creature made from branches and mud with a shock of grassy hair, trying to disguise itself among the trees!

Sources & Further Information
Tales of the Dartmoor Pixies, William Crossing
A Hundred Years on Dartmoor, William Crossing
Legendary Dartmoor, The Huccaby Courting
The Modern Antiquarian, Bellever
The Pixies of Bellever Tor, a musical piece
Forestry Commission Parking Information for Bellever

Forestry Commission Leaflet - Bellever Forest

Pixies Hole at Chudleigh Rocks, Devon

2011-09-26T15:27:00.000+01:00

Not far from Dartmoor lies another Pixie Cave, hidden away in the Chudleigh Rocks. These rocks are steeped in Pixie stories varying from kidknapped children to pixy-led travellers. According to John Britton's 'The Beauties of England and Wales, Volume IV' (1803), the caverns are said "in the traditions of the peasantry to be inhabited by Pixies, or Pisgies, a race of supernatural beings, "invisibly small".

John Page, in his book 'The Rivers of Devon' (1893) informs us that the main object in the cave is the Devil's pincushion or Pope's Head, a soft mass of rock "into which both credulous - if any there now be - and incredulous tourists delight in sticking a pin as a propitiatory offering to the elfin inhabitants."

The rocks are also mentioned in Issue 61 of Notes & Queries, Dec 28 (1850):

"At Chudleigh rocks I was told, a few weeks ago, by the old man who acts as a guide to the caves, of a recent instance of a man's being pixy-led. In going home, full of strong drink, across the hill above the cavern called the "Pixies' Hole", on a moonlit night, he heard sweet music, and was led into the whirling dance by the "good folk", who kept on spinning him without mercy, till he fell down "in a swoon". On "coming to himself", he got up and found his way home, where he "took to his bed, and never left it again, but died a little while after," the victim (I suppose) of delirium tremens, or some such disorder, the incipient symptoms of which his haunted fancy turned into the sweet music in the night wind and the fairy revel on the heath."

Chudleigh also get a mention in Lady Northcote's Devonshire Folklore article in Folklore Vol II No 2 (1900), as a place where "mothers used to tie their babies to them in bed at night for fear of the Pixies." She also tells the following story:

"A keeper and his wife used to live at Chudleigh, near the rocks, whose holes the pixies "bide in". This couple had two children, and one morning when the wife had dressed the eldest she let her run away while she dressed the baby. Presently her husband came and asked her "where the little maid was to?" For she was gone and was not to be found. They searched high and low for days; the neighbours came to help, and at least bloodhounds were to be sent for. But one morning some young men thought they would go and help themselves to some nuts from a clump of nut-trees not far from the keeper's house, and at the farthest side they came suddenly on the child, undressed, but well and happy, and not at all starved, playing with her toes, or toads; I do not know which. The pixies were supposed to have stolen the child, and are still firmly believed to have been responsible for her disappearance."

The most scenic way to get to the Pixies Hole cave is through The Rock Gardens at Station Hill, Chudleigh. A small entry fee will gain you entry to the rock gardens, which are lovely and overgrown and wild in the best way possible, and lead through to Chudleigh Cave, a narrow illuminated cave full of interesting and rather creepy rock formations. To get to the Pixies Hole and other caves you leave through a gate at the back of the gardens into the Clifford Estate. The paths here are not as well maintained and it's rather easy to accidently stray from the path and get a little lost, and the paths to the caves require some scrambling over rocks to get to, though we might have missed an easier route! The cave itself is gated and locked to protect a colony of bats living inside it, but on a sunny day you can see quite far into the cave.

John Britton, quoting Mr Warner, in his book 'The Beauties of England and Wales, Volume IV' (1803) gives a full description of the cave, for those intrigued as to what lies behind the metal gates.

"The entrance to the cavern is by a natural arch, about twelve feet wide, and ten high: the passage continues nearly of the same dimensions for about twenty yards, when it suddenly diminishes to nearly six feet wide, and four high, and still decreasing in size, extends about fifteen yards further. Here it expands into a spacious chamber, which dividing into two parts, runs off in different directions: but the rock dropping, neither of them can be pursued to any great distance; though tradition asserts, that a dog put into one of them came out at an aperture in Botter rock, about three miles distant."

Sources & Further Information
The Beauties of England and Wales, Volume IV, John Britton
The Rivers of Devon, John Page
Notes & Queries, Issue 61, Dec 28 1850
Devonshire Folklore, Lady R Northcote, Folklore Vol II No 2
The Rock Gardens, Chudleigh

Sheeps Tor Piskies Cave, Dartmoor

2011-09-26T12:53:00.000+01:00

Dartmoor is an area rich in stories of the fairies, or should I say, pixies. Anna Bray's book 'A Peep at the Pixies' (1854) tells us that pixies and fairies are two distinct races:

"It is a matter of tradition that the Fairies wished very much to establish themselves in Devonshire, but the Pixies would not hear of it; and a terrible war ensued. Oberon, was, with his host defeated; and his majesty received a wound in the leg which proved incurable; none of the herbs in his dominions have hitherto had the least beneficial effects, though his principle secretary and assistant, Puck, has been in search on a healing nature ever since."

According to Popular Romances by Hunt (1865) the Pixies of Dartmoor resemble a bale or bundle of rags, and he tells a story of these rag pixies leading away a small child from his mother. Luckily he was retrieved from under a large oak-tree, said to be a favourite haunt of the local pixies. Some Dartmoor folk say that Pixies are the souls of unbaptised children.

This week just passed I was fortunate enough to spend a week in Dartmoor, and see some of the local pixie sites for myself. First on my list was Sheepstor Piskies Cave, a site so well known that it appears on modern day Ordinance Survey maps. Over the years the name of the cave seems to have varied, including Pixies Cave, Piskies Cave, Piskies Hole, and Elford's Cave. The latter name is due to a man named Elford said to have hidden in the cave from Cromwell's army. According to the Legendary Dartmoor website, there is an early mention of the cave by the Reverend Polwhele in 1797 in his 'The History of Devonshire' but I confess I have not been able to track down a copy to see for myself. The earliest mention I have seen can be found in 'A description of the part of Devonshire bordering on the Tamar and the Tavy' by Mrs Bray (1836).

"On reaching the little hamlet of Sheepstor, we were informed by the matron of it, whom from her age and appearance we denominated the septuagenarian Sibyl, that we might easily find the 'pixies' house; where we should be careful to leave a pin, or something of equal value, as an offering to these invisible beings: otherwise they would not fail to torment us in our sleep."

"With a little boy for our guide, we again ascended the mountain. Leaving our horses below, we followed our conductor over some rugged rocks, till he came to one in which was a narrow fissure. On his telliung us this was the entrance, we laughed, and said none but the pixies and himself could enter it; but, on his assuring us it was the spot, I resolved to make the attempt. With great difficulty I succeeded, and found a hollow about six feet long, four wide, and five feet high. It was formed by two rocks resting in a slanting direction against another in a perpendicular direction."

Always up for a challenge, my partner and I decided to visit the cave for ourselves, presuming of course that it is indeed the same cave known as the Piskies Cave during the 1800s, as some photos online show an entirely different cave, so there seems to be some confusion. We parked in the small parking area just off the road to the south west of the tor, and walked up the beautiful tree lined pathway.

This took us to the bottom of the tor, where we picked a path up through the thick rusty bracken, stepping over the many fallen boulders that litter the sides of the hill.

Half way up the hill we could make out in the distance the square formation of rocks that mark the entrance to the Piskies Cave. You can see it here towards the right side of the photo below.

Next came the challenging part, climbing over all the fallen boulders to reach the cave itself. For me it was a challenge anyway, my partner seems to be part mountain goat and can hop from rock to rock with ease, where I have a tendancy to wobble a lot and frantically wave my arms in the air until they find a tree branch to grip on to for dear life, or a strong hand to pull me up to the next rock. And unfortunately there were very few trees on the tor! I'd like to say a big thank you to my patient and very understanding boyfriend, for his encouraging words and strong hands that kept me calm and safe climbing up to the cave.

As you can see, Mrs Bray wasn't kidding when she said that only the boy guide and pixies could fit in the cave, the entrance really is tiny. According to the Dartmoor CAM website it is possible to fit into the cave if you back in on your stomach, but it's a very tight squeeze indeed and I only went as far as the cave entrance. I decided not to take any chances and as advised by the septuagenarian Sybil in Mrs Bray's tale, I left a nice shiny new pin for the Piskies.

You can see more photos of the inside of the cave, as well as very useful instructions on how to find the cave on the Dartmoor CAM website. The Legendary Dartmoor website also contains lots more interesting information about the cave and the Piskies who live there.

Sources & Further Information
A description of the part of Devonshire bordering on the Tamar and the Tavy, Volume 1, Mrs Bray
Dartmoor CAM, Piskies Cave
Legendary Dartmoor, Piskies Cave
Legendary Dartmoor, Sheeps Tor Piskies

Whitton Dean, Northumberland

2011-09-26T10:47:00.000+01:00

Whitton Dean in the Rothbury Forest and Simonside area of Northumberland was once known as a haunt of the fairies according to Tomlinson. According to his Comprehensive Guide to Northumberland (1888), "Whitton Dene is said to have been one of the haunts of the fairies in olden times." He also mentions the mysterious rocks marked with concentric circles, but does not explain if these are also connected to the fairies. Unfortunately this is all I have been able to find out about this site, though I wonder if perhaps the names have gotten muddled over time as there is also a Whittle Dene in Northumberland, also known as a dwelling place of the fae.

We parked up in the Simonside Car park opposite the ancient hill fort remains and wandered to Whitton Dean. It's a rather rocky trail with amazing views over the hills, and at this time of year the hills are covered with beautiful purple heather, with busy bees and butterflies flittering around.

If you look carefully you can find Hare Bells, also known as Scottish Bluebells, or Fairies Thimbles. These delicate blue bell shaped flowers were once said to be rung by the fairies to warn of an approaching hare, perhaps due to the lore that witches used the juice from Hare Bells to transform into hares.

It is clear to anyone who visits this area why it has become associated with the faery folk. The hills are scattered with mysterious ancient rocks, many with cup and circle markings, and ancient burial cairns. In days gone by folk often associated these ancient sites with the fae, and thought that the fairies made cups in the rocks to make their porridge! The Simonside Hills are also said to be home to the duergars (see Duergars of Simonside), dangerous dark dwarves who led travellers to their deaths.

Follow the slope down the other side of the hill, passing the old mossy stone wall and windswept thorn trees. It's here that we became a little pixy led and couldn't for the life of us find where the footpath had vanished off to. We ended up retracing our steps back up the hill and eventually found the path again. Unfortunately I didn't have the sense to remember to turn an article of clothing inside out to see if that improved matters, an old remedy for being pixy led. We passed some lovely old gnarled and mossy trees, and a hidden little sparkling stream.

It's at the bottom of this sloping hill that you'll find Whitton Dean, a tucked away hidden little wooded valley with a stream running through. Ancient mossy rocks are dotted along the banks, and a fallen gnarled old tree lies nearby, the perfect dwelling place for any remaining fae still inhabiting the dene.

Sources & Further Information
Tomlinson's Comprehensive Guide to Northumberland
Streetmap - Location of Whitton Dean

Fairy Dean, Melrose

2011-07-04T17:06:00.000+01:00

Not far from Melrose is a green mossy woodland that hides a gently flowing stream, dappled with sunlight and sprinkled with ferns and nettles. It's name? The Fairy Dean. Sir Walter Scott writes this of it in The Monastery (1830):

"Another, and even a more familiar refuge of the elfin race, (if tradition is to be trusted,) is the glen of the river, or rather brook, named the Allen, which falls into the Tweed from the northward, about a quarter of a mile above the present bridge. As the streamlet finds its way behind Lord Sommerville's hunting-seat, called the Pavilion, it's valley has been popularly termed the Fairy Dean, or rather the Nameless Dean, because of the supposed ill luck attached by the popular faith of ancient times, to any one who might name or allude to the race, whom our fathers distinguished as the Good Neighbours, and the Highlanders called Daoine Shie, or Men of Peace; rather by way of compliment, than on account of any particular idea of friendship or pacific relation which either Highlander or Borderer entertained towards the irritable beings whom they thus distinguished, or supposed them to bear to humanity.

"In evidence of the actual operations of the fairy people even at this time, little pieces of calcareous matter are found in the glen after a flood, which either the labours of those tiny artists, or the eddies of the brook among the stones, have formed into a fantastic resemblance of cups, saucers, basins, and the like, in which children who gather them pretend to discern fairy utensils."

The Fairy Glen is also mentioned in 'The Home Life of Sir David Brewster' by Mrs Brown (1881) 3rd edition, it states that

"On the banks of the Elwand water, which runs into the Tweed about two miles above Melrose, there is a picturesque glen called the Fairy Dean, which has become a favourite place of resort, from it's association with the incidents in the Monastery by Sir Walter Scott."

"When the Waverley Novels were not acknowledged by their author, facts or incidents to which they referred were always welcome subjects of conversation at Abbotsford ; and on one occasion when I happened to mention that singular stones were found in the Fairy Dean, Sir Walter Scott expressed a desire to see them, and to know how they were formed. I accordingly sent some young persons to search for them in the bed of the rivulet, and I was fortunate in thus obtaining several specimens of great variety, and singular shape, and showing, very clearly, the manner in which they were formed."

Some examples of these fascinating stones are held by National Museums Scotland, and a photo of them can be found here.

After lots of driving around in circles and getting buried under the crisp white sheets of Ordinance Survey maps, we looked for somewhere to park that would hopefully lead us to the Fairy Dean. Perhaps there's an easy way into the glen, but if so, we couldn't find it! We managed to park up on a country lane and after a walk across field edges and wading through nettles, we came to a beautiful little green oasis hidden among the roughly ploughed fields, the Fairy Dean or 'Nameless Dean' to those who speak with caution and hushed tones when speaking of the fae.

Also worth a mention is the poetically named 'Fairies Bowling Green', a hill not far from the Fairy Dean. In the photo below you can see the hill peaking out over the hedgerow. Unfortunately I haven't managed to find any information on the naming of the hill, but I'm sure there's a very interesting story behind it!

I happened upon a beautiful poem titled 'Beside the Tweed' by Mary Cherry, published in Lyrics of the Open (1914):

Beside the Tweed the Gala mills
To heaven smoke,
Yet, all the way to Eildon Hills
Are fairy-folk.

From Abbotsford to Glendearg Peel
And Lauderdale,
To Leaderfoot from Ashiesteel,
Rings many a tale.

From Huntly-Burn and Rhymer's Glen
To Melrose fair,
The braes are full of fairy-men
And magic there.

Here, every oak a dryad holds,
Each burn a sprite,
And on the hills are fairy-folds
For folk at night.

Among the woods of Avenel
Tradition hides,
And all along the Elwand dell
Romance abides.

Below "The Fairies' Bowling-Green,"
The wee folk play,
And dance along the "Fairy-Dean"
Beside the way.

A mystic music haunts the air
Pan's oaten reed
And memories linger everywhere
Beside the Tweed.

Sources & Further Information
The Monastery, Walter Scott
The Home Life of sir David Brewster, Mrs Gordon
Denham tracts Vol 2, Denham
Lyrics of the Open, Mary Cherry
Fairy Stones, National Museum Scotland

Ettrick Forest Brownie

2011-07-04T14:48:00.000+01:00

There was once a large forest in the Scottish Borders called Ettrick Forest, it was a Royal forest and the favourite hunting ground for many of the Scottish kings. It was also home to all manner of faery folk including helpful brownies and wild fearsome shellycoats. Sadly most of the forest has since been cut down and little is known of the creatures who once dwelt there, but the story of the last brownie was recorded and the legend is still told around the area. Gentleman's Magazine, volume 129, published 1821 tells this version of the tale:

"The last Brownie who haunted a wild and solitary spot in Ettrick forest, was banished by the mistaken religious notions of a foolish old devotee, who presented him with a milk porringer, and a piece of money. The parting sprite was heard to howl and cry the whole night, 'farewell to bonny Bodsbeck'."

For those who don't know, brownies are among the most helpful of faery folk and are most often encountered in farmhouses and little old cottages. Once upon a time, nearly every house had it's own brownie, who worked hard and took pride in maintaining a clean and tidy house. But when given an item of clothing, or a coin or two for their work, they vanish most suddenly and refuse to return. Some say that they take offense at the gifts, others say that brownies with money to spare and finery to wear are far too elegant for housework and leave to seek better things.

That said, brownies do have their tricksy moments and have been known to play many a practical joke on neighbouring villagers. According to Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (1869 edition) the Ettrick forest brownie once disguised himself as a Shellycoat and played a practical joke on two men on the banks of the river Ettrick:

"Two men, in a very dark night, approaching the banks of the Ettrick, heard a doleful voice from its waves repeatedly exclaim - "Lost! Lost!"- They followed the sound, which seemed to be the voice of a drowing person, and, to their infinite astonishment, they found that it ascended the river. Still they continued, during a long and tempestuous night, to follow the cry of the malicious sprite; and arriving, before morning's dawn, at the very source of the river, the voice was now heard descending the opposite side of the mountain in which they arise. The fatigued and deluded travellers now relinquished the pursuit; and had no sooner done so, than they heard shellycoat applauding, in loud bursts of laughter, his successful roguery. This spirit was supposed particularly to haunt the old house of Gorrinberry, situated on the river Hermitage in Liddesdale".

The story of the Ettrick forest brownie was perhaps fuelled by the release of a book on border life called 'The Brownie of Bodsbeck and other tales' published by James Hogg in 1818 and set in the 17th Century. In this story the Brownie of Bodsbeck was thought to be a monster haunting Chapelhope, but a plot twist reveals all is not as it seems. Hogg was good friends with Walter Scott, and was also very interested in local legends, so his fictional story probably did carry true notes of local folklore.

In 1826 Robert Chambers published his Popular Rhymes of Scotland, which included a story of a brownie that lived in a farm house in Bodsbeck. The brownie worked hard both in and out doors at the farm and Bodsbeck became the most prosperous farm in the whole district. The brownie took payment for his labour in the form of a small moderate quantity of meat when he required it. During a time of very hard working, when the Brownie had worked even harder than usual, "the goodman took the liberty of leaving out a mess of bread and milk, thinking it but fair that at a time when some improvement, both in quality and quantity, was made upon the fare of the human servants, the useful brownie certainly deserved to share in the blessing. He had calculated, however, without his guest; for the result was, that the brownie left the house for ever, exclaiming,"Ca, Brownie, Ca' A' the luck O' Bodsbeck away to Leithenha." and it is said that the brownie settled in a neighbouring farm house called Leithenhall was never seen again at his previous dwelling.

Whilst visiting the Scottish Borders I paid a visit to the Ettrick Forest area. The forest once stretched for many miles and covered a lot of this area, but now only small areas of forest remain, and these were most likely planted more recently. Magical areas are plentiful though, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if there are still brownies in the woods seeking new houses in local farmhouses, or instead choosing to live in the woods among the elves and gnomes.

Beware the trees with eyes....

I spotted this ball of furry roots at the side of a path, and couldn't help but imagine it growing some arms and legs and some eyes peering out between the rooty hair!

Sources & Further Information
Gentleman's Magazine, Volume 129, 1821
Minsrelsy of the Scottish Border, Walter Scott
The Brownie of Bodsbeck and Other Tales, James Hogg
Popular Rhymes of Scotland, Robert Chambers
Study of Hogg's Brownie of Bodsbeck

Cauldshiels Water Bull

2011-07-04T12:44:00.000+01:00

A faerie location with a difference can be found at Cauldshiels Loch, south of Melrose in the Scottish Borders. Sir Walter Scott once took Washington Irving there, who wrote about the visit in his book 'Abbotford and Newstead Abbey' published 1835. He wrote:

"The most interesting circumstance connected with it, however, according to Scott, was that it was haunted by a bogle in the shape of a water bull, which lived in the deep parts, and now and then came forth upon dry land and made a tremendous roaring, that shook the very hills. This story had ben current in the vicinity from time immemorial:- there was a man living who declared he had seen the bull, - and he was believed by many of his simple neighbours."

The water bull also gets a mention in 'The Gold of Fairnilee' by Andrew Lang, 1888. It seems to be a fictional book rather than local history, but as many folk tales end up later being seen as fictional fairy tales, I see it as worth including.

"Had not her own cousin, Andrew Tamson, passed the Cauldshiels Loch one New Year morning? And had he not heard a dreadful roaring, as if all the cattle on Faldonside Hill were routing at once? And then did he not see a great black beast roll down the hillside, like a black ball, and run into the loch, which grew white with foam, and the waves leaped up the banks like a tide rising? What could that be except the kelpie that lives in Cauldshiels Loch, and is just a muckle big water bull? "And what for should there be no water kye, if there's land kye?"

Kye is a Scottish word for cattle. The water bull seems to be a close relative of the kelpie, but possibly less dangerous, though it's best not to assume such things just incase. It definitely sounds like a faerie creature of some form, especially as it is described as a bogle taking the shape of a water bull, this sounds similar to local Northumbrian legends including the Dunnie of Hazelrigg, a sprite that takes the form of a cow and plays tricks on the locals. It is certainly not uncommon in folklore for fae creatures to take on animal form to play pranks on humans. That said, the water bull at Cauldshiels does not seem to interact with humans in the stories told of it, making it somewhat of a mystery.

Popular Tales of the West Highlands, Voulume VI, by Campbell (1890), contains further information on water bulls, and claims that "there is a water-bull in nearly every Scotch loch of any note" and that Loch Ness is full of them. He says that the water bulls breed with farming cows, who give birth to "'corcach', short eared, a cross between the water-full and a land-cow. They are easily known. no one has ever seen a water-cow." He also tells of a story where a water-bull saves a young lady from a water-horse. The full story can be read online at the Sacred Texts website and is also found in Brigg's Dictionary of Fairies.

James Mackinlay has included some water bull tales in his book "Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs" (1893). He writes that the calves of water-bull can be identified by their "unusual size and pendulousness of their ears and the wide aquatic spread of their jet black hoofs; the foals, in their clean limbs, large flashing eyes, red distended nostrils, and fiery spirit." One tale in this book states that water bull can only be harmed by silver, and he tells of "a farmer who employed his sons to search a certain stream for one of these creatures, while the farmer himself carried a gun loaded with sixpences to be discharged when the monster appeared, silver alone having any effect on such beasts". He gives MacCulloch, the author of 'A description of the Western Islands of Scotland', as the source for this very strange story that suggests not all water bulls are entirely docile.

So along I went to Cauldshiels Loch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the water bull, though from a very safe distance of course. The Loch is surrounded by beautiful woodlands and rolling Scottish hills, and the shape of the landscape does lead to somewhat of an echo near the loch, the noise of the cattle on the hill was a lot louder than you'd expect to hear, so perhaps this partly explains the thunderous roaring the water bull is said to make.

There stood a lone cow at the side of the loch, perhaps a calf of the water bull hoping to catch a glimpse of their father.

Sources & Further Information
Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey, Washington Irving
The Gold of Fairnilee, Andrew Lang
Popular Tales of the West Highlands, Campbell
A Dictionary of Fairies, Katharine Briggs
Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs, Mackinlay
Cauldshiels Loch, Get-A-Map Website

Thomas the Rhymer, Melrose

2011-06-14T10:42:00.000+01:00

There was once a young man named Thomas, who loved nothing more than to wander the beautiful countryside surrounding his home town of Erceldoune in the Scottish Borders, thought to be modern day Earlston. His favourite spot to sit and admire the views over the mysterious Eildon Hills was a lovely old tree, said by some to be a hawthorn, and later known as the Eildon Tree. One day while taking a rest under the tree, Thomas spotted an elegant lady on a milk white horse:

"True Thomas lay on Huntlie Bank:
A ferlie he spied wi' his ee;
And there he saw a lady bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her shirt was o' the grass green silk,
Her mantle o' the velvet fyne;
At ilka tett of her horse's mane,
Hang fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas, he pull'd aff his cap,
And louted low down to his knee-
- "All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heav'n!
For thy peer on earth I never did see"-

- "O no, O no, Thomas," she said;
"That name does not belang to me;
I am but the Queen of fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee."

The Queen of Fairyland dared Thomas to kiss her, so he did, and she asked Thomas to come away with her and serve her for seven years in Fairyland. She mounted her horse with him behind, and together they travelled, her horse travelling swifter than the wind itself. She told Thomas to hold his tongue no matter what he hears or sees, or he will never return to the mortal realms. Some say this should not be taken literally, and that it refers to Thomas being told never to speak word of their love incase the Fairy King should hear. On they rode, wading through rivers, and through the roaring of the sea, and through rivers of blood. She explains that all blood shed on earth runs through the springs of this country. They finally came to a green garden, where the Faery Queen plucked an apple from a tree, telling Thomas to take it for his wages and it will grant him "the tongue that can never lie". He protests, saying his tongue is his own, but she commands it so. The story ends that:

"He has gotten a cloth of the even cloth,
and a pair of shoes of velvet green;
And, till seven years were gane and past,
True Thomas on earth was never seen."

This version of the tale is as told by Walter Scott in his Minstrelsy of the Scottish border (1802), he says it was collected from a local lady. He continues with an extension of the story where Thomas has returned to Erceldoune seven years later. It is said that the faery folk must pay a teind to hell every seven years, and the Queen fears that this year it will be Thomas, so she returns him to the mortal world. Some versions of the tale say that he returned with the ability to only speak the truth, and others say he had magical powers of prophesy and became famous throughout Scotland. Then one day while Thomas was celebrating with friends in the tower of Erceldoune, a person came running in and told in fear and astonishment that "a hart and hind had left the neighbouring forest, and were, composedly and slowly, parading the street of the village". Thomas arose and left the tower, then followed the animals into the forest, and was never seen again. According to popular belief he currently resides in Elfland, but is one day expected to revisit our mortal realms again.

Interestingly, a man named Thomas Rymour really did live in 13th century Erceldoune. A charter from 1294 mentions "Thomas de Ercildoun, son and heir of Thomas Rymour de Ercildon". Could this be the Thomas the Rhymer of legend? A leaflet I picked up in Melrose refers to Thomas as Thomas Learmont, but according to Briggs' Dictionary of Fairies there is no documented evidence of this name.

If you would like to read more about the various versions of the story, then Jamieson's Popular ballads and songs, volume 2 (1806) is a good starting place. It mentions early manuscripts including one in the Cambridge public library said to be from the 15th century. Interestingly, these early versions do mention places local to modern day Earlston, for example the Lincoln manuscript includes this verse:

"She ledde him in at Eldone Hill,
Underneathe a derne lee,
Where it was derke als mydnight merke,
And ever the water till his knee."

The Eildon Hills are located right next to the present day Rhymer Stone which marking the spot of the Eildon Tree, and dominate the landscape with their 3 peaks that can be seen from miles around. It is said that these hills have been important throughout history, being first inhabited around 1000 BC in the Bronze age, and later inhabited by Celts, Druids, and the Romans, who built the fort of Trimontium at the foot of the hills. Some say that the hills are hollow, and that fairyland lies inside the hills themselves. Another legend tells of a horse dealer who is taken inside the hill by a mysterious gentleman, where he finds King Arthur and his knights sleeping. Some say a single mountain once stood, but it was cleeved into the present day triple peaks by a mighty wizard. Others say that the ancient tumulus Bourjo, on the lower slopes, was once a Druid oak grove where sacrifices were made. Whatever the truth, the Eildon Hills are bursting with folklore and legend, and were obviously seen as an important spiritual and mysterious place.

So, of course, I went to visit... with my trusty map reading boyfriend of course! The first place on my list was the Rhymer's stone, which is said to mark the place where the Eildon tree grew and Thomas first met the Fairy Queen. The stone is dated 1929, but the stone it is mounted on says it was re-erected in 1970, so I wonder if this was it's original location or whether it was moved so it could be accessed more easily. There is also a stone circle laid in the ground with lines from the poem.

As we wondered further along the path towards the Eildon Hills, we came to Bogle Burn. According to Scott's Minstrelsy, "A neighbouring rivulet takes the name of the Bogle Burn, (Goblin Brook) from the Rhymer's supernatural visitants".

As we walked up the lower slopes of Eildon Hill we came across a very gnarled old hawthorn tree, and I could almost imagine Thomas sat underneath enjoying the cool breeze on such a warm sunny morning. A blossoming thorn stood a little further up the hill.

It's easy to see why the Eildon hills are seen as such a magical place, the views are breathtaking (and not just because I was so out of breath!) and the carpet of golden gorse fills the air with the enchanting scent of coconuts.

I especially loved the mysterious circle of gorse on the slopes below, it seems to have grown in a perfect circle... most intriguing!

Also spotted a strange stone with a ring of circles on, though no idea what made the pattern, maybe someone else knows?

On the way down the slopes towards Melrose I spotted another beautiful hawthorn tree, decorated with a sprinkling of white blossoms. Again, no Thomas the Rhymer to be seen, but I did keep a careful eye out for the Fairy Queen and spotted a few horse shoe tracks along the pathways.

Sources & Further Information
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Walter Scott
Popular Ballads and Songs, Jamieson
Modern Antiquarian, Eildon Hills
Site Record for Bourjo
Thomas the Rhymer, Tam-Lin.org

Tam Lin, Carterhaugh

2011-06-01T14:52:00.000+01:00

"O I forbid ye, maidens a',

That wear gold on your hair,

To come or gae by Carterhaugh,

For young Tam Lin is there."

In a beautiful mossy forest in the Scottish Borders, lies a little piece of folklore history, tucked away and forgotten by many but held dear by those who know the legend of Tam Lin. Most of the forest has long been cut down but part remains, together with a mossy old well hidden among the ferns, and marked with the name of 'Tamlane's Well' though it is well buried beneath the undergrowth and hidden from those who do not seek it.

The legend goes that a young man named Tam Lin or Tamlane was out hunting with this grandfather Roxbrugh when he fell from his horse and was taken away by the Queen of the Fairies herself who dwells in the green hill. She made him a knight of her elven companie and set him the task of guarding the forest of Carterheugh, where according to local townsfolk he would only let those young maidens pass who gave him a token of treasure or else their maidenhood. Despite the warnings, young Janet ventured into the forest, with her green kirtle held above her knee and her wild blonde hair braided. As she was passing the well she came across a milkwhite steed, and she took rest and picked a wild rose growing near the well, and pulled a branch from the tree. At once, Tam Lin appeared and cried:

"Why pulls thou the rose, Janet,

And why breaks thou the wand?

Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh

Withoutten my command?"

Janet is a stubborn young lady and stands her ground, telling him that Carterhaugh belongs to her, a present from her father, and that she will come and go as she pleases without asking his permission. Little is said of what happens next, and how Tam Lin charmed young Janet into giving up her maidenhood, but Janet returns to Carterhaugh and as the days pass her father discovers that she is with child. She refuses to let the blame lie with a knight of her father's company, and stubborn Janet tells her father:

"If that I gae wi child, father,

Mysel maun bear the blame,

There's neer a laird about your ha,

Shall get the bairn's name.

"If my love were an earthly knight,

As he's an elfin grey,

I wad na gie my ain true-love

for nae lord that ye hae'"

Janet returns to Carterhaugh, some say to collect herbs to cause miscarriage, and once again she finds Tam Lin's milkwhite steed stood at the well. Once again she pulls a rose, and Tam Lin appears, enquiring to know:

"Why pu's thou the rose, Janet,

Amang the groves sae green,

And a' to kill the bonny babe

That we gats us between?"

She demands that Tam Lin tell her where he comes from, and he reveals his mortal past to her, telling her that fairyland is a pleasant place but at the end of every seven years the fairy folk must pay a tiend to hell, and he fears that he has been chosen. It is the night of Halloween, when the veils between the faerie lands and mortal realm are lifted, and Tam Lin tells Janet that at the midnight hour the fairy folk will ride past Miles Cross and she may rescue her true love and win him back from the Fairy Queen. She must first let pass the black horse, and then the brown, and then quickly run to the mlkwhite steed and pull the rider to the ground, as this fairy knight shall be none other than Tam Lin. He warns her that he will be turned into all manner of beast and horror, including a newt, a snake, a bear, a lion, a red hot iron, then a burning coal or gleed when at once she must throw him in to well water, and then finally he shall turn into a naked man. At once she must cover him with her green mantle and hide him out of sight. She does exactly as told, freeing Tam Lin, much to the anger of the Fairy Queen:

"Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,

And an angry woman was she,

"Shame betide her ill-far'd face,

And an ill death may she die,

For she's taen awa the bonniest knight

In a' my companie."

"But had I kend, Tam Lin," said she,

"What now this night I see,

I wad hae taken out thy twa grey een,

And put in twa een o tree."

This final verse seems to suggest the Fairy Queen wishes that she had taken out Tam Lin's grey eyes and replaced them with wood, taking away his sight of the fairies and perhaps never allowing him to have fallen in love with Janet. Another version of the tale has the Fairy Queen wishing she had taken out his heart and replacing it instead with stone.

According to Sir Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (1802) it is thought that the story of Tam Lin was first found in the 1549 book "The Complaynt of Scotland" and that perhaps it is connected to "The dance of Thom of Lyn", though it is not known for certain exactly how old this romantic ballad is. The exact lyrics of the ballad vary considerably, and many of the variations can be found in Francis Child's 'The English and Scottish Popular Ballads', where #39A is thought to perhaps be the oldest and most popular.

On a lovely not-so-sunny bank holiday weekend, myself and my partner (and his newly purchased collection of Scottish Borders ordinance survey maps) headed off for a long weekend in the Scottish Borders. My first port of call was of course Carterhaugh, the most likely location for where the tale took place, though as with most folklore stories the exact location can never be known for sure, and others have suggested that perhaps Carter Bar in the Cheviot hills may have been the location in the ballad. Carterhaugh certainly fits the descriptions though, and the magical feel of the place is undeniable. I must admit even I found it slightly eerie that the field behind Carterhaugh farm, where Carterhaugh forest once stood, contains only 3 horses... one black, one brown, and one white, exactly as in the story. Perhaps the farm owners are aware of the story and have a good sense of humour, or perhaps something magical is at work here. Below are the photographs from my visit to Carterhaugh Woods and Tam Lin's well.

According to the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland website, "The trough into which this well flowed, and water pipe are still in situ, but the well, which was in the bank 2.5 m N of the trough, is now filled in." which suggests that perhaps there was once a deeper well, that a person could indeed have fitted into. If you're thinking of visit Carterhaugh, please be considerate of the farm house, and do not trespass on their land. The well can be found at the side of the road and is easily accessible though buried in undergrowth, and the woodlands behind can be accessed by walking from the nearby Bowhill Country Estate (entry fee charged) or the very limited parking at the road side.

Next, I went in search of the bridge, where rumour has it Janet met Tam Lin on Halloween night and won him from the Fairy Queen. The location in the ballad is most often given as 'Miles Cross', but this location is not marked on any present day maps. Alternative versions of the ballad give the location as the 'Mill Bridge', which may refer to Carterhaugh bridge as this seems to be the nearest to the well, and is a cross roads of sort. Though, as pointed out on the Tam-lin.org website, if Janet did indeed have to drop Tam Lin in the well once he took the form of the burning coal or gleed, then this is quite a long way to run. Here are some photos of the bridge as it stands today:

Finally on the journey of Tam Lin, I went in search of Janet's home, said in the ballad to be a nearby castle. According to Sir Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (1802), "Newark Castle; a romantic ruin, which overhangs the Yarrow, and which, we may suppose, was the habitation of our heroine's father." The castle can be reached by walking from the Bowhill Estate, and is a magnificant ruin. I fear my photos do not do it justice.

The other possible location for Janet's father's castle is said to be Oakwood Castle, presently known as Aikwood. Though this is slightly further away, so perhaps less likely. The castle today is rented out as holiday accommodation, and is also home to other local legends including the Warlock of Aikwood.

I would like to give special thanks to the owner of the Tam-Lin.org website, as their website was a huge help in my research and a wonderful read. I would also like to thank Tricky Pixie for recording such a magical musical version of the Tam Lin tale, which can be heard and purchased on the Tricky Pixie website. It provided the perfect soundtrack on the long drive to Carterhaugh!

Sources & Further Information

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Sir Walter Scott

The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Francis Child

Tam-Lin.org

Bowhill House & Country Estate

Aikwood Castle Holiday Accommodation

Castleuk.net, Newark Castle

Knockers of the North

2011-05-26T15:52:00.000+01:00

Northumberland was once scattered with mining villages and pits, and the miners were a superstitions type of folk, and with good reason too as ghostly goings on and unexplained events weren't unknown down the mines. Here in Northumberland we have our own breed of goblin that are very specific in their dwelling requirements and choose only to live down mines. They're perhaps similar to the Cornish knocker, but with their own northern cheekyness and charm!

The two most famous goblins were known as the Shilbottle Bluecap or Blue Bonnet, and Cutty Soams. An article from the 23rd May 1863 edition of the Colliery Guardian gives more information:

"Two goblins were believed to haunt the northern mines. One was a spiteful elf; who indicated his presence only by the mischief he perpetrated. He rejoiced in the name of "Cutty Soams," and appears to have employed himself only in the stupid device of severing the rope-traces or soams, by which an assistant-putter -- honoured by the title of "the fool "-- is yoked to the tub. The strands of hemp which were left all sound in the board at "kenner-time," were found next morning severed in twain. "Cutty Soams" has been at work, could the fool and his driver say, dolefully knotting the cord."

"The other goblin was altogether a more sensible, and, indeed, an honest and hard-working bogie, much akin to the Scotch brownie, or the hairy fiend, whom Milton rather scurvily apostrophises as a lubber. The supernatural personage in question was no other than a ghostly putter, and his name was "Bluecap." Sometimes the miners would perceive a light blue flame flicker through the air, and settle on a full coal-tub, which immediately moved towards the rolley-way, as though impelled by the sturdiest sinews in the working. Industrious Bluecap was at his vocation; but he required, and rightly, to be paid for his services, which he modestly rated as those of an ordinary average putter; therefore once a fortnight Bluecap's wages were left for him in. a solitary corner of the mine. If they were a farthing below his due, the indignant Bluecap would not pocket a stiver; if they were a farthing above his due, indignant Bluecap left the surplus revenue where he found it."

An article in the Monthly Chronicle dated August 1887 gives further detail on Cutty Soams and claims that some miners believed he was the ghost of a man killed in the mine. Others thought that it was the doings of a deputy named Nelson as it always seemed to be his turn to do the night shift when the ropes were cut, and it was always him who made the discovery. Some rumours even claimed that Nelson tried to kill his love rival by cutting all but one strand of rope with which his intended victim was about to use to descend to the bottom. Unfortunately, or fortunately for the victim, an under-viewer and overman used the rope first and it broke, plunging them to their deaths. The pit fired a few days later and it said that Nelson was killed by the after-damp.

Unfortunately all the mines have long been closed and the mining buildings demolished. I imagine that these goblins must be getting awfully lonely now all the mines have closed, and I do wonder if they may have perhaps moved to the nearby colliery museum of Woodhorn, where the old mine has been preserved and is open to the public. Below are a few photos I took at modern day Woodhorn.

I also managed to find some old maps online showing the old location of the Shilbottle mine where bluecap lived. There are no traces of the old mine, the surrounding fields have been left to farmland, but perhaps old bluecap is still living in the old underground tunnels, listen carefully and you might just hear a faint 'knock knock' from below.

Sources & Further Information

Monthly Chronicle, 1887

Colliery Guardian, May 23rd 1863

Woodhorn Museum

Durham Mining Museum

P.S. Please let me know if you notice any major formatting issues with this blog entry, as i've switched over to the new blogger editing software. I've also changed the commenting format to a pop-up window as for some reason I can't comment on the embedded version anymore! Sounds like the work of tricksy goblins to me.

The Fairy Music of Hen Hole

2011-05-05T12:23:00.000+01:00

According to local folklore, hidden away in a deep chasm up in the Cheviot hills lives a group of Northumbrian fairies who play the sweetest music known to man. They run and dance through the valley, with all the grace that fairies do, but it is said these fairies have a sinister side too and once lured in a hunting party who remain trapped there to this day. According to 'Rambles in Northumberland' by Chatto (1835):

"On the north-west side of Cheviot there is a deep chasm called the Hen Hole, in which there is frequently to be seen a snow egg at midsummer. There is a tradition, that a party of hunters, when chasing a roe upon cheviot, were wiled by the fairies into the Hen Hole, and could never again find their way out."

The snow egg phrase is explained in volume 3 of the Local Historian's Table Book, legendary division, by Richardson. "This cleft is so deep and so narrow that the rays of the sun can never be said to illumine even its rugged sides, and as might be expected, there is frequently to be seen therein, a snow egg at Midsummer." Richardson also further expands on the story and claims that the hunters "heard issuing from this chasm, the sweetest music they had ever heard, and forgetting the roe which scoured away unheeded, they were impelled to enter, and could never again find their way out." The 1887 edition of the Monthly Chronicles of North-Country Lore and Legend gives further details of the fairies home:

"There is a small cavern in the face of the highest cliff on the right bank of the ravine, still accessible, we believe, to the venturesome, though dangerously so; and into this it is said that one of the early hunting Percies, along with some of his hounds, went and never returned. He and the hounds, if we may credit the legend, still lie in the cavern, bound by a magic spell - not dead, but fast asleep, and only to be released by a blast of a hunting horn, blown by some one as brave as ever Hotspur was, and more fortunate."

This makes no mention of the fairies, but interestingly does seem to merge it with another legend that is tied to various locations in Northumberland and varies but always seems to contain one or more sleeping characters hidden away who can only be woken by a horn being blown or a sword being raised. The characters are occassionally huntsmen but more often knights, or even King Arthur himself. Other locations for this tale include Brinkburn Priory (see my previous blog entry here) and Sewingshield. According to Tomlinson's Comprehensive Guide to Northumberland (1888) the cave at Hen Hole was once home to Black Adam of Cheviot, also known as the Rider of Cheviot, a murderous villain who gatecrashed a wedding and stole the women's jewels and ravished then murdered the bride, and ran away pursued by the groom, Wight Fletcher. The rider leaped the chasm of Hen Hole and escaped to his cave lair (perhaps the above mentioned cave) but the groom followed him and they fought and both fell to their deaths.

Intriguingly, Hen Hole was once known by a more sinister name, Hell Hole. The Border magazine volume 6 published November 1863 contains an article by George Tate titled Northumbrian Legends, which explains:

"Henhole is sometimes called Hellhole, which a learned friend supposes may be it's true name, derived from el or ell, water, and meaning the waterhole whence the colledge has it's source. We think, however, Henhole is the archaic name from hen, celtic, signifying old, and hence we have the old hollow."

It's also worth a mention that there is supposedly a secret underground tunnel stretching from Cateran's Hole (see my previous blog entry here) to Hen Hole, and passing under the Hurl Stone (see my blog entry here), all of which are said to be dwelling places of the fairies. So it seems that the Northumbrian fairies chose to travel underground through secret passageways, connecting their favourite fairy haunts together, allowing them to travel without discovery by humans. The entrance at Cateran's Hole has collapsed, but perhaps there is still an entrance to the tunnel hidden away in the cave at Hen Hole, this will require further field trips and research!

On Beltane morning we set off in search of Hen Hole, and found it very easily as it happens to be marked on Ordinance Survey maps! We walked a little further than planned as the walking guide failed to warn us that the road through College Valley is by permit only and closed for lambing season, so a 3 and a half mile stroll turned into an unexpected 11 mile hike! The views are breathtaking and the lambs adorable, and I soon forgot about my aching feet and walked onwards and upwards to the hill overlooking Hen Hole. The chasm was as dark and foreboding as expected, with rocky jagged crags and cascading waterfalls. It's hard to get a scale from my photographs, but the chasm is truly awe inspiring in person and you get a true feel for how far the drop is and how terrible it must have been for the hunters lured in by the fairies! From this distance I couldn't see any cave entrances, but they could easily lie concealed in the masses of boulders and rubble that has fallen into the chasm over the years. Unfortunately the public footpaths don't pass any nearer to Hen Hole so this was as close as I could get, but I plan to return another day and take the path over the top of Hen Hole and see if I can get a little closer and perhaps hear a note or two of the fairy music for myself!

Here are a few photographs taken along the path leading to Hen Hole, where I encountered a slow worm basking in the sun, a tree that appeared to be wandering down a hill, a beautiful beetle, and an extremely content looking lamb!

Sources & Further Information

Local Historian's Table Book, vol 3 legendary division, Richardson

1887 Monthly Chronicles of the North-Country

Comprehensive Guide to Northumberland, Tomlinson

The Border Magazine, vol 6 November 1863

Rambles in Northumberland, Chatto

The Fairy Graveyard, Brinkburn Priory

2011-04-06T12:12:00.000+01:00

My blog entry today is about a beautiful old priory in the Parish of Brinkburn. The name 'Brinkburn' is thought to mean "'Brynca's burn, burh or spring', or 'the burn, burh or spring beneath the brink or hill'" according to the Keys to the Past website. A spring beneath a hill certainly sounds like a place that would be held dear to the fae folk, and Brinkburn is known locally as the burial place of the Northumberland Fairies. The earliest written source I've found for the presence of fairies in Brinkburn can be found in 'The Local Historian's Table Book, Legendary Divison Volume 3' (1846) by Richardson:

"In the sweet precincts of the solitude of Brinkburn, the villagers point out a shady green spot as covering the graves of the tiny people, and truly a more suitable place could not have been devised as the scene of so purely poetic a belief."

Another description of this beautiful place can be found in 'History of the Berwickshire Naturalists Club, Volume 4' (1857) by Wilson:

"The fairies, dead and gone this many a weary year, are supposed to lie buried at Brinkburn. Peace be to their tiny ashes! for they could not have a more fitting place of sepulture; not more verdant aisles than those from which the birds and bees intone their requiem."

Tomlinson's Comprehensive Guide to Northumberland (1888) poetically writes:

"A shady green spot in the precincts of Brinkburn is pointed out by a pretty tradition as the burial-place of the Northumberland Fairies. Their tiny forms are no longer seen in the moon-lit glade, but the flowers they loved still bloom plentifully beneath the shelter of green groves."

I'm unsure as to why this place is known as a fairy burial ground, rather than just a fairy hill or dancing green, but Denham suggests that the "mortality, unheard of elsewhere, must have been attributed to the potency of the bells", suggesting that perhaps the building of the priory and the ringing of it's bells killed all the poor fairies living there, the poor things! Brinkburn Priory is also home to another legend, also said to take place at a grassy swell similiar to the fairy resting place. Bit of a long story is this one, and it can be found in Denham Tracts Volume 2 (1895). It is not directly connected to the fairies, but I think may be of interest to some of my readers so I thought to include it:

Under a grassy swell, which a stranger may know by its being surrounded with a wooden railing, on the outside of Brinkburn Priory, tradition affirms there is a subterraneous passage, of which the entrance remains as yet a secret, leading to an apartment to which access is in like manner denied ; and as these visionary dwellings are invariably provided with occupants, it is asserted that a hunter who had in some way offended one of the priors was along with his hounds, by the aid of enchantment, condemned to perpetual slumber in that mysterious abode. Only once was an unenthralled mortal favoured with a sight of the place and of those who are there entombed alive. A shepherd,, with his dog attending him, was one day listlessly sauntering on this verdant mound, when he felt the ground stirring beneath him, and springing aside he discovered a flat door, where door had never before been seen by man yea, that door opening upwards of its own accord on the very spot where he had been standing. Actuated by curiosity he descended a number of steps which appeared beneath him, and on reaching the bottom found himself in a gloomy passage of great extent. Groping along this warily, he at last encountered a door, which opening readily, he along with the dog was suddenly admitted into an apartment illumined so brilliantly that the full light of day seemed to shine there. Thisabrupt transition from darkness to light for some minutes deprived him of the power of observing objects correctly, but gradually recovering he beheld enough to strike him with astonishment, for on one side at a table, with his head resting on his hand, slept one in the garb of a hunter, while at some distance another figure reclined on the floor with his head lying back, and around him lay many a noble hound, ready as ever to all appearance to renew that fatal chase which consigned them all to the chamber of enchantment. On the table lay a horn and a sword, which, seeing all was quiet, the shepherd stepped forward to examine, and taking up the horn first applied it to his lips to sound it ; but the hunter, on whom he kept a watch, showed symptoms of awaking whenever he made the attempt, which alarming him he replaced it, and the figure started no longer. Reassured, he lifts the sword, half draws it, and now both men became restless and made some angry movements, and the hounds began to hustle about, while his own dog, as if agitated by the same uneasiness, slunk towards the door. Alive to the increased commotion and hearing a noise behind him very like the creaking of hinges, he suddenly turned round and found to his dismay that the door was moving to. Without waiting a moment he rushed through the half closed entrance followed by his dog. He had not fled ten paces when, shaking the vault with the crash, the door shut behind him, and a terrible voice assailed his ears pouring maledictions on him for his temerity. The fugitives traversed the passage at full speed, and gladly hailed the light streaming in at the aperture above. The shepherd quickly ascended the steps, but before he got out the cover had nearly closed. He succeeded, and that was all, in escaping perhaps a worse fate than those victims of monkish thraldom which he had just left ; but his poor dog was not so fortunate, for it had just raised its foreparts to come up when the door fastened on it and nipped it through

All that stands of Brinkburn Priory today is a restored 12th century church, and parts of the monastic buildings were incorporated into the manor house next door, which has sadly fallen into a state of disrepair. Both are now owned by English Heritage and are open to the public during the summer for a small entry fee. More about the priory and church can be read here on Wikipedia. So along to Brinkburn we went! After a long drive down a country lane we arrived at the car park. Right next to a car park sits a hill that looks remarkably like a fairy hill. At first I thought it might have been created when the car park was made, but there seem to be some old trees growing from it, suggesting that it may be older...

Along the path to the priory we pass primroses, enchanting lush green mossy tree stumps, and a little hole in a trunk, just the right size for a fairy...

A bit further along the path and i'm face to face with a tree, quite literally! Sure i'm not the only one who can see a face or two in the trunk of this tree, and he seems to be hungry judging by the amount of rocks he's eaten!

Nearly there, just around that corner...

Brinkburn Priory...

Walking around the beautiful priory grounds, where fairies sleep nestled in the ferns, and curled up in the beautiful pink spring blossom...

I apologise for any formatting issues with my blog, especially if it looks like a small goblin has randomly thrown the images at the page and there's spaces where there shouldn't be! I seem to be having a few problems at the moment and i'm not sure if the problem lies with me or the blogger site. Normal blogging will resume when I manage to turf the tricksy goblin out of my laptop!

Fairies of Hackpen Hill, Wiltshire

2011-04-05T16:45:00.001+01:00

On the way back to Northumberland, we stopped off at Avebury, somewhere I've always wanted to visit. I've not heard of any faery stories linked to Avebury itself, but nearby Hackpen Hill has had its share of mysterious happenings. Quoted from Jennier West's Albion (1985):

"In 1645, the antiquary John Aubrey got from an old man called Ambrose Browne the tale of 'a hinde goeing upon Hack-pin with corne' who was led a dance by the fairies to the village, '& so was a shepherd of Winterbourne Basset.' The shepherd reported that the ground opened and he was taken into 'strange places' underground, where music was being played on viols and lutes. The shepherd got no good of his visit to the fairy mound, for 'never any afterwards enjoy themselves'."

Interestingly, there were once two bronze age bowl barrows on the southern side of Hackpen Hill according to records on the Pastscape website, suggesting there may once have been ancient grassy mounds, like those often considered to be fairy hills by locals. Unfortunately according to the monument record, gravel workings have disturbed the site making identification difficult in the present day. The book continues with another account of fairies local to this area:

"In the seventeenth century, the fairies could also be seen on the downs near Chippenham, if we are to believe Mr Hart, who seems to have been Aubrey's schoolmaster at the grammar school at Yatton Keynel (ST 8676). According to an account thought to have been written by Aubrey, Mr Hart in 1633/4 told his pupils that, coming over the downs at twilight and happening on a fairy ring, he saw a number of fairies going round and round, and singing 'and making all maner of small odd noyses'. When they saw him they pinched him all over 'and made a sorte of quick humming noyse all the time'. 'This relation I had of him myselfe,' says Aubrey, 'a few days after he was so tormented ; but when I and my bedfellow Stump wente soon afterwards, at night time to the dances on the downes, we saw none of the elves or fairies.'"

In more recent times, Hackpen Hill has been noted as a popular location for crop circles, with intricate and mysterious circular patterns appearing over night. Some examples can be seen here and here on Lucy Pringle's Crop Circle Photography Library. Perhaps caused by galloping horses in fairy rades, trampling intricate patterns in the corn?

On a rather overcast and drizzly day we ventured up Hackpen Hill. Parking is nice and easy, with a car park on top of the hill itself, something my tired feet were very thankful for after all that walking in the New Forest! The exact location of the fairies in the stories above are unknown, and Hackpen Hill itself covers quite some distance, but the place that immediately stood out to me was the small wooded area at the top, so that's where I headed. It's strange that such a small wooded area remains when the rest of the hill has been put to crop, but it's a beautiful fae place indeed, with mossy green tree trunks and a beautiful circle of daffodils, perhaps left there by the fairies to mark the entrance to their fairy hill....

Sources & Further Information Albion, Jennifer West Pastscape Monument Record, Hackpen Hill The Modern Antiquarian, Hackpen Hill Lucy Pringle's Crop Circle Photography Library (Please bear with me, having problems getting the html to work for my links list!)

Furzey Gardens, New Forest

2011-03-24T16:17:00.000Z

It appears that not all fairies have departed from the New Forest, in modern times the faery abode of choice is Furzey Gardens near Minstead. A beautiful garden open to the public, with a scattering of delightful hidden fairy doors and enchanting fairy tale towers and tree houses. Not only is the garden beautiful but part of a charity that provides horticultural training and care for young people with learning difficulties, and i'm sure the fairies help out too whenever they can!

According to the Paranormal Database, there were also sightings of fairies in Minstead in the 1920s, when sightings were reported that "several little people climbed the trees of the forest, possessing catlike attributes for better balance". They sound like a very curious breed of fairy, but unfortunately i've not managed to find any other sources for this story to gather further details.

I did however pay a visit to Minstead and Furzey Gardens, and i'm very glad I did! The gardens are truly enchanting, as I hope you can see from the below photos...

This feline fellow did possess the catlike attributes of the local fairies, but was far too busy relaxing in the sun to climb any trees...

Sources & Further Information

Furzey Gardens

Paranormal Database, Legends of the Forest

Cold Pixies Cave, New Forest

2011-03-22T10:47:00.000Z

The New Forest is a place not only full of trees, but full of ancient history, and with this of course comes fairy legends! It's thought that the New Forest contains more than 200 ancient barrows, scattered over hilltops and fields, many buried forever lying forgotten under mounds of gorse and bracken. These were once important places, where the dead were laid to rest, a place of respect and peace. It's no secret that many many years later these strange green mounds were a mystery to common folk, their original purpose had been long since forgotten and instead they were seen as strange mysterious places where peculiar artefacts were found, sometimes long buried treasure or weapons like arrow heads. It's no surprise that the common folk viewed these green mounds with suspicion and thought they belonged to a different race, a race who buried wonderous treasure and shot trespassers with little stone arrow heads... yup you guessed it, the fairies! Of course this is just one theory, there are plenty more out there.

This leads us to one such barrow in the New Forest, a bronze age barrow most often known today as Cold Pixies Cave. The name varies in written literature and other names include Coldpix's Cave, or just Pixey's Cave. It has also been suggested that the name is Colt Pixies Cave, named after the Colt Pixies who take on the form of a horse and lead the wild horses of the New Forest into bogs and other such trouble!

The New Forest: Its History and its Scenery, by John R Wise (1863) says that "The proverb of “as ragged as a colt Pixey” is everywhere to be heard, and at which Drayton seems to hint in his Course of Faerie:- "This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt, Still walking like a ragged colt."

It is in this same book where lies the earliest recorded reference to this barrow being linked to the fairies I have managed to find so far, being from 1863. The author writes:
"There is scarcely a village or hamlet in the Forest district which has not its “Pixey Field,” and "Pixey Mead," or its "Picksmoor'" and "Cold Pixey," and “Puck Piece.” At Prior’s Acre we find Puck’s Hill, and not far from it lies the great wood of Puckpits; whilst a large barrow on Beaulieu Common is known as Pixey’s Cave."
Myself and my partner in crime (and keeper of many useful Ordinance Survey maps!) visited the New Forest for a few days last week while visiting my family in Somerset. I also thoroughly recommend the Glastonbury Faery Fayre for anyone down that end of the country! We were lucky enough to get very sunny southern weather, so on a bright and sunny morning we headed to Cold Pixies Cave.

It's certainly a place fit for the fairies, with golden gorse bushes bursting with blossoms, and lush green grass scattered with daisies. Especially enchanting is the gorse archway at the on the slope of the barrow, creating a doorway perhaps to fairyland itself. I confess I did go through it, whilst being suspiciously watched by a wild New Forest horse, perhaps a colt pixey wondering if the doorway to faery wasn't completely closed afterall...

Sources & Further Information
The New Forest: Its History and its Scenery, John R Wise
Folklore journal 22: Hampire Folklore, Moutrav Read
Cold Pixies Cave - Modern Antiquarian
New Forest Bronze Age Barrows
Heritage Gateway - Cold Pixies Cave

The Fairies of Grennan Cove

2011-03-21T14:46:00.000Z

I've been holding off posting this story until I could find more information and further sources, but unfortunately this is one of those stories that seems to be passed on by spoken word rather than being printed in books! I say unfortunately... but in some ways that makes it even more beautiful and special, a story passed on by locals and from parent to child. Of course, the other possibility is that it's a modern fairy tale, but either way it's a lovely story and a lovely place to visit!

I found the story on the Mull of Galloway website, the only source i've found for it so far. I've spoken to the website owner and he says as far as he knows it's local folklore, if I find out anything else i'll of course let you know. It's a lovely website for anyone thinking of visiting the area, and contains some curious other local tales including the heather ale legend.

The story is set on the Mull of Galloway, the most southernly point of Scotland, and a place famous for it's smugglers and beautiful scenic views. You can see right across to Ireland on a clear sunny day! The Mull of Galloway website says that here near present day Kilstay, the "sailors would throw offerings of food to ensure fair winds and a safe journey but none hung around to wait on the fairies coming out of the dark recesses of their cave to collect these offerings". According to folklore, the Cove of Grennan was a well known spot for these cave-dwelling fairies, and there was once a narrow passage leading all the way to Clanyard Bay on the west coast. It seems that the locals were wary and would not explore these caves until....

"One day a piper, braver than the rest, marched off playing his bagpipes and walked straight into the cave accompanied by his dog. Those left outside could hear the music being played from within the depths of the earth until, eventually, it faded away. The dog, minus its hair, finally emerged terror stricken from the cave at Clanyard Bay but the piper was never seen again. Local legend, however, suggests that sometimes in the summer nights, when all is still and there is no wind at all moving around the Mull, it is possible to hear the faint sound of the pipes and that of a howling dog coming from under the ground at Clanyard Bay."

This area was once used by smugglers, and was said to contain secret passageways used to smuggle goods from the coast to nearby farm houses, so there's a good chance that this bay did once contain tunnels as in the story above. Stories of hauntings in such tunnels were commonly spread about by the smugglers themselves, knowing that if the locals were too scared to enter the tunnels then they'd never discover all the illegal goods hidden there. Of course, once the smugglers had abandoned the tunnels, what a perfect home they would have made for any fairies looking for a new abode!

Whilst seeking fairies in nearby Dumfries, I couldn't resist visiting this lovely spot and seeking out the secret tunnels for myself! Unfortunately the tunnels are long since gone, leaving behind towering rocky boulders and dense green shrubs and brambles. Trickling waterfalls seep through the rocks and form sparkling little rockpools, and lonesome thorn trees top the rocky cliffs above. Very pretty and very typical of a fairy dwelling place!

On the beach I found a little washed up fairy door, in a bed of seaweed and driftwood. I tried knocking, but alas no reply!

Sources & Further Information
Mull of Galloway Website

Smugglers Britain, The Solway Firth & Galloway

The Fairies of Galloway & Nithsdale

2011-03-03T12:46:00.000Z

It seems there are none more prepared for battle than the fearsome faeries of Galloway and Nithsdale! Although there are stories of far more pleasant fairies having dwelt in this area too, today I shall be writing of a particular group of fae who were feared for good reason by those who offended them and attracted their retribution. A description of these rogue characters can be found in 'Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song' by R. H. Cromek (1810), where he gives them the title of 'Light infantry of Satan!':

"They were small of stature, exquisitely shaped and proportioned; - of a fair complexion, with long fleeces of yellow hair flowing over their shoulders, and tucked above their brows with combs of gold. a mantle of green cloth, inlaid with wild flowers, reached to their middle;- green pantaloons, buttoned with bobs of silk, and sandals of silver, formed their under dress. On their shoulders hung quivers of adder slough, stored with pernicious arrows; and bows, fashioned from the rib of man, buried where 'three Lairds' lands meet,' tipped with gold, ready bent for warfare, were slung by their sides. Thus accoutred they mounted on steeds, whose hoofs would not print the new plowed land, nor dash the dew from the cup of a hare-bell. They visited the flocks, the folds, the fields of coming grain, and the habitations of man;- and woe to the mortal whose frailty threw in their power!- a flight of arrows, tipped with deadly plagues, were poured into his folds, and nauseous weeds grew up in his pastures; his coming harvest was blighted with pernicious breath,- and whatever he had no longer prospered. These fatal shafts were formed of the bog reed, pointed with white field flint, and dipped in the dew of hemlock. They were shot into cattle with such magical dexterity that the smallest aperture could not be discovered, but by those deeply skilled in Fairy warfare, and in the cure of elf-shooting."

The following passage regarding the local fairy rades can also be found in the above book, and was told to the author by an old woman of Nithsdale:

"I' the night afore Roodsmass, I had trysted wi' a neeber lass, a Scots mile frae hame, to talk anent buying braws i' the fair:- we had nae sutton lang aneath the haw-buss, till we heard the loud laugh o' fowk riding, wi' the jingling o' bridles, an' the clanking o' hoofs. We banged up, thinking they wad ryde owre us;- we kent nae but it was drunken fowk riding to the fair, i' the fore night. We glowred roun' and roun', an' sune saw it was the Fairie fowks Rade. We cowered down till they passed by. A leam o' light was dancing owre them, mair bonnie than moonshine: they were a wee, wee fowk, wi' green scarfs on, but ane that rade foremost, an' that ane was a gude deal langer than the lave, wi' bonnie lang hair bun' about wi' a strap, whilk glented lyke stars. They rade on blaw wee whyte naigs, wi' whustles that the win' played on. This an' their tongues whan they sang, was like the soun' of a far awa' Psalm. Marion an' me was in a brade lea fiel' whare they cam by us, a high hedge o' hawtrees keepit them frae gaun through Johnnie Corrie's corn;- but they lap owre't like sparrows, an' gallop't into a green knowe beyont it. We gade i' the morning to look at the tredded corn, but the fient a hoof mark was there nor a blade broken.'"

Some had more pleasant dealings with the fairies, like this young man:

"A young man of Nithsdale, being on a love intrigue, was enchanted with wild and delightful music, and the sound of mingled voices, more charming than aught that mortal breath could utter. With a romantic daring, peculiar to a Scottish lover, he followed the sound, and descivoered the Fairy banquet:- a green table, with feet of gold, was placed across a rivulet, and richly furnished with pure bread and wines of sweetest flavour. Their minstrelsy was raised from small reeds, and stalks of corn:- he was invited to partake in the dance, and presented with a cup of wine. He was allowed to depart, and was ever after endowed with the second sight. He boasted of having seen and conversed with several of his earthly acquaintances whom the Fairies had taken and admitted as brothers!"

Although fearsome, the fairies were said to be fair, and only punished those deserving. They rewarded those who were kind to them, as shown in this story:

"A woman of Auchencreath, in Nithsdale, was one day sifting meal warm from the mill: a little, cleanly-arrayed, beautiful woman, came to her, holding out a bason on antique workmanship, requesting her courteously to fill it with her new meal. Her demand was cheerfully complied with. In a week the comely little dame returned with the borrowed meal. She breathed over it, setting it down bason and all, saying aloud, 'be never toom.' The gude-wife lived to a goodly age, without ever seeing the bottom of her blessed bason."

It is said in Galloway and Nithsdale to be very bad luck to plow certain fields deemed to be the rallying places of fairies, often marked with an old thorn tree in the middle, as told in this story:

"Two lads were opening with the plow one of these fields, and one of them had described a circle around the Fairy thorn, which was not to be plowed. they were surprised, when, on ending the furrow, a green table was placed there, heaped with the choicest cheese, bread and wine. He who marked out the thorn, sat down without hesitation, eating and drinking heartily, saying, 'fair fa' the hands whilk gie.' His fellow-servant lashed his steeds, refusing to partake. The courteous plow-man 'thrave,' said my informer, 'like a breckan, and was a proverb for wisdom, and an orable of local rural knowledge ever after!'"

Unfortunately, or fortunately for those who crossed them, the fairies were said to have left the Nithdale and Galloway area around the year of 1790:

"The 'Fairy Farewel,' is a circumstance that happened about twenty years ago, and is well remembered. The sun was setting on a fine summer's evening, and the peasantry were returning from labour, when, on the side of a green hill, appeared a procession of thousands of apparently little boys, habited in mantles of green, freckled with light. One, taller than the rest, ran before them, and seemed to enter the hill, and again appeared at its summit. This was repeated three times, and all vanished. The peasantry, who beheld it, called it 'The Fareweel o' the Fairies to the Burrow hill!'

So it appears that I'm over 220 years too late with my visit! Though I wouldn't be surprised if the fairies have sneaked back to the area, or stealthily emerged from one of the many cairns in the area, finally leaving their green grassy hills behind and moving into nearby forests. Below are some photos taken on my visit to Galloway and Nithsdale, locations include the walk to St Ninian's Cave, Cairn Holy II, and nearby forests.

P.S. A request for help! Currently researching a fairy story of a piper visiting fairy caves near Grennan on the Mull of Galloway. Any help would be gratefully appreciated!

Sources & Further Information
Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, R. H. Cromek
Cairnholy, Modern Antiquarian

Mermaid of Galloway

2011-03-03T11:12:00.000Z

"Once a young crofter was wandering below the cliffs on a beautiful summer night when the wind was still and the silver moon shone through the clear depths of ocean, casting a flood of light through Land-under-Waves. He heard sounds of song and laughter. He crept softly towards a shadowy rock, and, climbing it, looked down on a bank of white sand. There he beheld a company of mermaids dancing in a ring round a maid who was fairest of the fair...

At length he crept stealthily down the rock, and ran towards the skin coverings lying on the sand. He seized one and ran off with it. When the mermaids saw him they screamed and scattered in confusion, and snatching up their skin coverings, leapt into the sea and vanished from sight. One maid remained behind. This was the fair one round whom the others had been dancing. Her skin covering was gone, and so she could not return to her sea home.

Meanwhile the crofter ran to his house and hid the skin covering in a box, which he locked, placing the key in his pocket. He wondered what would happen next, and he had not long to wait. Someone came to his door and knocked softly. He stood listening in silence. Then he heard the knocking again, and opened the door. A Maid-of-the-Wave, clad in pale sea-blue garments, stood before him, the moonlight glistening on her wet copper hair. Tears stood in her soft blue eyes as she spoke sweetly saying: "O man, have pity and give me back my skin covering so that I may return to my sea home."

She was so gentle and so beautiful that the crofter did not wish her to go away, so he answered: "What I have got I keep. Do not sorrow, O fair one. Remain here and be my bride."

This is an extract from the tale of the Mermaid of Galloway, a famous Scottish tale of a man who captures a mermaid and makes her his wife. But of course, you can no more tame a wild maiden of the sea than you can tame the wild sea itself, and the ending is far from happy for the young crofter. The above extract was taken from "Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend" by Donald Alexander Mackenzie (1917) and the rest of the story can be read here.

This is one of many tales surrounding the Mermaids that once dwelled in the sea and rivers of Galloway. They were mostly friendly creatures, and some were skilled in the art of healing. In 'Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song' by R. H. Cromek (1810), a mermaid cures a young maiden:

"A charming young girl, whom consumption had brought to the brink of the grave, was lamented by her lover. In a vein of renovating sweetness the good Mermaid sung to him-- 'Wad ye let the bonnie May die i' yere hand, An' the mugwort flowering i' the land.' He cropped and pressed the flower tops, and administered the juice to his fair mistress, who arose and blessed her bestower for the return of health."

Another poem of the Mermaid of Galloway can also be found in this same book, it's a rather long poem and too long to include in it's entirety, but here is it's poetically beautiful beginning:
"There's a maid has sat o' the green merse side
Thae ten lang years and mair;
An' every first night o' the new moon
She kames her yellow hair.

An' ay while she sheds the yellow burning gowd,
Fu' sweet she sings an' hie,
Till the fairest bird that wooes the green wood,
Is charm'd wi' her melodie.

But wha e'er listens to that sweet sang,
Or gangs the fair dame te;
Ne'er hears the sang o' the lark again,
Nor waukens an earthlie ee."
The photographs in this blog were all taken by myself in Galloway during Valentines weekend, the perfect time to perhaps spot such a beautiful and romantic creature. It's not a challenge to see why this beautiful coastline gave birth to so many mermaid stories, with it's wild untamed coastlines and rocky beaches with many a perfect spot for a mermaid to sit and comb her silky golden hair and admire the beautiful sunsets.
Sources & Further Information
Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend, Donald Mackenzie
Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, R. H. Cromek
The Maid-of-the-Waves

Fairy Folk of Glastonbury

2011-01-07T17:47:00.000Z
Glastonbury Tor has a long standing association with the fairy folk, as well as it's associations with early Christianity, Arthurian legends, the Isle of Avalon, and the doorway to Annwn - the Celtic otherworld. Perhaps it's most famous fairy story is that of the meeting between St Collen and Gwyn ap Nudd, King of the fairy folk and Lord of Annwn. Below is the story, as told in the end notes of the 1906 edition of Lady Guest's translation of the Mabinogion:
"A very curious legend, in which Gwyn ab Nudd bears a conspicuous part, is contained in the Life of St. Collen (Buchedd Collen), which is printed in a collection of Welsh remains, entitled the Greal. This Saint was the son of Gwynawc, ab Caledawc, ab Cawrdav, ab Caradawc Vreichvras, and having distinguished himself greatly in foreign countries by his zeal and piety, he returned to Britain and became Abbot of Glastonbury ; after a time Collen desired to lead a life of greater austerity than his high office at Glastonbury permitted ; so he departed thence, and went forth to preach to the people. The impiety, however, which he met with distressed him so much, that at length he withdrew to a mountain, " where he made himself a cell under the shelter of a rock, in a remote and secluded spot

"And as he was one day in his cell, he heard two men conversing about Gwyn ab Nudd, and saying that he was king of Annwn and of the Fairies. And Collen put his head out of his cell, and said to them, 'Hold your tongues quickly, those are but Devils.' — Hold thou thy tongue,' said they, I thou shalt receive a reproof from him.' And Collen shut his cell as before.

"And, soon after, he heard a knocking at the door of his cell, and some one inquired if he were within. Then said Collen, 'I am St. Collen, who is it that asks?' 'It is I, a messenger from Gwyn ab Nudd, the king of Annwn, to command thee to come and speak with him on the top of the hill at noon.'

"But Collen did not go. And the next day behold the same messenger came, ordering Collen to go and speak with the king on the top of the hill at noon.

"But Collen did not go. And the third day behold the same messenger came, ordering Collen to go and speak with the king on the top of the hill at noon. ' And if thou dost not go, Collen, thou wilt be the worse for it'

"Then Collen, being afraid, arose, and prepared some holy water, and put it in a flask at his side, and went to the top of the hill. And when he came there, he saw the fairest castle he had ever beheld, and around it the best appointed troops, and numbers of minstrels, and every kind of music of voice and string, and steeds with youths upon them the comeliest in the world, and maidens of elegant aspect, sprightly, light of foot, of graceful apparel, and in the bloom of youth ; and every magnificence becoming the court of a puissant sovereign. And he beheld a courteous man on the top of the castle, who bade him enter, saying that the king was waiting for him to come to meat. And Collen went into the castle, and when he came there, the king was sitting in a golden chair. And he welcomed Collen honourably and desired him to eat, assuring him that, besides what he saw, he should have the most luxurious of every dainty and delicacy that the mind could desire, and should be supplied with every drink and liquor that his heart could wish ; and that there should be in readiness for him every luxury of courtesy and service, of banquet and of honourable entertainment, of rank and of presents : and every respect and welcome due to a man of his wisdom.

"I will not eat the leaves of the trees,' said Collen. 'Didst thou ever see men of better equipment than those in red and blue?' asked the king. "Their equipment is good enough,' said Collen, 'for such equipment as it is.' "What kind of equipment is that?' said the king." Then said Collen, 'The red on the one part signifies burning, and the blue on the other signifies coldness.' And with that Collen drew out his flask, and threw the holy water on their heads, whereupon they vanished from his sight, so that there was neither castle, nor troops, nor men, nor maidens, nor music, nor song, nor steeds, nor youths, nor banquet, nor the appearance of any thing whatever, but the green hillocks."
Other versions of the above story suggest that the events took place at Llangollen in Wales instead. Considering how long ago the events are said to have taken place, it's hardly surprising that so many variations exist!

Having spent the first 27 years of my life in Somerset, to say I've visited Glastonbury a few times would be a bit of an understatement! I've visited few places with such magic and beauty, and I think Glastonbury will probably always be my favourite place to be. Whilst visiting my family over the festive season, I popped along to Glastonbury and it was one of my most magical visits yet. Most of the snow had melted but some remained in the shadows, the trees were covered in frosty icing, and a thick misty fog had enveloped the tor. One minute the tor was there, and the next it had gone, hidden behind the mist! It was indeed as if this world had passed and another stood in its place, peaceful and silent, and filled with wonder.

Little imagination was needed to see the mystical fairy landscapes and imagine the fairies trooping out of the fog and into our world, and although I didn't meet Gwyn himself, I did have a lovely visit from some hungry crows who politely asked if i'd mind sharing my breakfast with them. Who could refuse such an offer!

Also worth a visit in Glastonbury are Gog and Magog, a pair of enchanting ancient Oak trees. These beautiful gnarled old trees are full of stories to share, and i wouldn't be surprised at all if there are a few fairies hiding in between the roots. I didn't get a chance to visit them this time, but here are a couple of photos I took of them on a previous visit when the weather was a bit warmer and the trees a little greener.

Sources & Further Information
The Mabinogion, translated by Lady Charlotte Guest
The Modern Antiquarian, Glastonbury Tor
Glastonbury Pilgrim Centre, Gog & Magog
Gwyn - Ancient God of Glastonbury, Yuri Leitch

Fairies of Tynemouth

2011-01-07T15:59:00.000Z

Just a short walk down the coast from the Fairy Caves of Cullercoats, is a coastal town called Tynemouth. Many have heard of Tynemouth priory, or perhaps even the ghosts that haunt the priory, but few are aware of the mysterious cave below where infernal spirits are said to dwell. The cave is best known to locals as Geordie's Hole or Jingler's Hole. Some say that it was part of an underground passage with vaults, possibly dungeons, maybe connected to the priory itself. Others say that the "Wytche of Tinemouth" lived there, others say a wizard. Others say the name came from an old man living in the cave who used to prowl around at night making a strange clanking noise, terrifying the local children.

According to an article on Tynemouth Priory in the Monthly Chronicle (1887), fairies were also said to live in Tynemouth:
"Tynemouth, in the olden time (and that not so far back either) is declared to have been a favourite haunt of the fairies. An old woman, whom a friend of ours visited the other day to gather any particulars she might know respecting the mythical Jingler, was told that her recollections went back at least sixty years, and that the story was already an old one when she was a girl, but that she had herself actually seen the fairies, so that was no mere hearsay."
Other sources suggest that far more sinister creatures are dwelling at Tynemouth. According to a poem in Hone's Table Book (1827), which is the earliest reference to the caves I have managed to find so far, the inhabitants of these mysterious cave are infernal beasts and demons who are guarding a great wealth of treasure. Young Walter, the son of a knight, was told by his mother of wondrous wealth and "treasures in keeping of Sorcery" to be found "far 'neath the sea, in a deep rocky cell, bound down by the chains of the strongest spell". Eventually, on the Eve of St Johns, Young Walter ventures forth to seek the treasure and finds the entrance in the rocks:
Down deep in the rock winds the pathway drear,
And the yells of the spirits seem near and more near,
And the flames from their eye-balls burn ghastly blue
As they dance round the knight with a wild halloo."

Fierce dragons with scales of bright burnished brass,
Stand belching red fire where the warrior must pass;
But rushes he on with his brand and his shield,
And with loud shrieks of laughter they vanish and yield.

Huge hell-dogs come baying with murd'rous notes,
Sulphureous flames in their gaping throats;
and they spring to, but shrinks not, brave Walter the Knight
And again all is sunk in the darkness of night.
Walter seizes a bugle horn from the wall and blows into it a loud blast, 3 times, as it turns into a snake with the mouthpiece containing the asp's poisonous fangs. A magic cock, perched on the gate, wakes and shakes its wings. It lets out a loud crow, and all the infernal demons vanish, leaving Walter to escape with all the treasure he can carry.

Unfortunately there were a series of landslides and the cave entrance is said to have collapsed and closed for good, which is probably for the best considering the amount of infernal creatures said to dwell in there! I decided to pay a visit over the winter months to see if any signs of an entrance could be seen once the summer's greenery had died away to reveal the rocks below, but unfortunately none could be seen. It's unlikely the infernal creatures will be escaping anytime soon, but if you're walking past late at night and hear a distance jingling coming from inside the cliffs, you might want to quicken your step and hurry home just in case!

Sources & Further Information
Hone's Table Book (1827)
1887 Monthly Chronicle
Denham Tracts, Michael Denham

Robert Kirk - Part 3 - Doon Hill

2010-09-22T11:13:00.001+01:00

Finally, on my trip to investigate the life of the Reverend Robert Kirk, I come to Doon Hill. It is said that while ministering at Aberfoyle church, Robert Kirk enjoyed taking regular strolls up Doon Hill, known locally as a 'Dun Shi' or Fairy Hill.

One evening however, Robert Kirk did not return from the hill as usual, infact he never returned at all. His body was found dead on the hill, but it is said that his soul was stolen away by the faeries, who were angry at him for revealing their secrets in his book. The following extract from 'Sketches of Perthshire' by the Reverend Patrick Graham (2nd ed. 1812) tells the story:
"He was walking, it is said, one evening in his night-gown, upon the little eminence to the west of the present manse, which is still reckoned a Dun shi'. He fell down dead, as was believed ; but this was not his fate:

"It was between the night and day,
When the fairy king has power,
That he sunk down (but not) in sinful fray,
and, 'twixt life and death, was snatched away,
To the joyless Elfin bower."

Mr Kirk has the near relation of Graham of Duchray, the ancestor of the persent General Graham Stirling. Shortly after his funeral, he appeared in the dress in which he had sunk down, to a mutual relation of his own and of Duchray. "Go," said he to him, "to my cousin Duchray, and tell him that I "am not dead ; I fell down in a swoon, and was carried into Fairy-land, where I now am. Tell him, that when he and my friends are assembled at the baptism of my child, (for he had left his wife pregnant) I will appear in the room, and that if he throws the knife which he holds in his hand over my head, I will be released, and restored to human society." The man, it seems, neglected, for some time, to deliver the message. Mr Kirk appeared to him a second time, threatening to haunt him night and day till he executed his commission, which, at length, he did. The time of the baptism arrived. They were seated at table; Mr Kirk entered, but the laird of Duchray, by some unaccountable fataility, neglected to perform the prescribed ceremony. Mr Kirk returned by another door, and was seen no more. It is firmly believed that he is, at this day, in Fairy-land."

So up the faery trail I ventured, to the summit of Doon Hill. As I strolled along the pathway the sunlight twinkled through the tree branches, and mushrooms glistened with the morning dew...

Up we go, further up the hill... past the faery washing line...

As you reach the top of the hill the pathway leads through 2 trees, as is often the case when entering the land of faery, and before you stands a large imposing figure of a tree, a solitary pine. The Minister's pine.

I love the photo below with the light shining through the branches of the Minister's Pine. My camera has this lovely habit of sticking random blue and green lights in photos when it feels like it, I've been told it's something to do with light reflecting off the lense and bouncing off the camera goblins that lurk in the dark spaces where the film would go in normal cameras.

A quick note: I'm not sure how other people feel about this, and I don't mean to offend anyone, but I feel a little sad at the amount of man made materials left at fairy sites. I'm sure the fairies would much prefer natural offerings like pretty stones and shells, feathers, or perhaps some hazelnuts they can share with the squirrels. Plastic ribbons and bags will take an age to decompose, and might get eaten by wildlife and make them very ill, so please take care and don't make the fairies angry.

Sources & Further Information
Sketches of Perthshire, Reverend Patrick Graham (2nd ed. 1812)
Walk Highlands - Doon Hill
Site of Scientific Interest - Doon Hill & Fairy Knowe

Robert Kirk - Part 2 - Aberfoyle Church

2010-09-21T15:28:00.000+01:00

The following day I wandered to the remains of the church in Aberfoyle, where Reverend Robert Kirk settled after leaving Balquhidder. His father, Reverend James Kirk, was also previously a minister of the church. It is said that the Reverend enjoyed taking walks up nearby Doon Hill, said to be a local haunt of the faeries. In the photo above you can see the back of Robert Kirk's grave, looking towards Doon Hill in the background.

Below, some photos taken around the church and graveyard. Unfortunately the church where Robert Kirk ministered has long since gone, though it was replaced by a new church in 1744 but that has since fallen into disrepair and the roof is no longer present, but this does allow for a lovely variety of plant life to grow nestled inbetween the fallen bricks and graves.

Just incase you were wondering, the large coffin shaped pieces of metal outside the entrance below are mortuary weights. These were placed on fresh graves to stop thieves stealing the bodies to sell to scientific research. Charming!!

It's still a very magical place, and it's easy to see why Reverend Kirk chose Doon Hill as his favourite place to ramble in the mornings, with it being so nearby and watching over him every day whilst he worked in the church.

Next, a trip to Doon Hill....

Sources & Further Information
Scotland's Places - Aberfoyle Old Parish Church
Walk Highlands - Doon Hill
Aberfoyle Visitor Guide

Robert Kirk - Part 1 - Balquhidder

2010-09-21T08:41:00.001+01:00

The Reverend Robert Kirk (c.1644-1692) was a student of theology and perhaps more importantly, the seventh son of Mr. James Kirk, the minister of Aberfoyle. Due to being the seventh son he was said to be gifted with the highland second sight, and is famous for his fascination with the faery and for writing down his findings in the 'Secret Commonwealth of Elves Fauns and Fairies'. His book is said to have been written in 1691, though it is thought that it remained unpublished until discovered by Sir Walter Scott, who printed 100 copies in 1815. He also provided the first translation to Gaelic of the book of Psalms. I have long been fascinated and intrigued by the life of Robert Kirk, and perhaps more fascinated with the mysteries surrounding his death, but i'll speak more on that later.

First on my list of places to visit to learn more about the Reverend Kirk was Balquhidder. It was here that Kirk was said to have first met the faeries. Balquhidder has long been seen as a very magical place, the Celts are said to have known it as a "thin place" where the boundary between Earth and Heaven was close. The first church was built there after St Angus visited in the 8th or 9th century, but it wasn't until 1664 that Robert Kirk arrived and took his place as Episcopal minister. The church where he ministered was built in 1631, but has since fallen into disrepair and now sits as a mossy ruin with some splendid yew trees growing inside.

In the graveyard lies the grave of Robert Kirk's first wife Isobel Campbell, whom he married in 1678. Unfortunately Isobel passed away only a couple of years later. It is said that Kirk decorated her gravestone himself, though unfortunately the stone is very weather worn now and difficult to read, as shown in the photograph below (the grave in the centre of the photo, set flat into the ground).

The photograph below shows 'Tom nan Aingeal', the hill of fire. Located just above the kirk and graveyard, it was here that fires were lit during the Beltane and Samhain celebrations in the hope that the ancient gods would bring warmth and light. The grave on the hill belongs to the Reverend Eric Findlater, who ministered in the area for forty years.

If you follow the path leading to the hill above the kirk, past the mossy covered walls of the graveyard, you will come to a bridge across an enchanting waterfall. According to leaflets at the current church, a ghostly wild hunt is said to ride through these parts.

Finally I include a photo of the bell hanging in the modern day church next to the site of the old kirk where Robert Kirk ministered. This bell was donated to the kirk by Robert Kirk.

The Reverend Robert Kirk left Balquhidder in 1685 to return to Aberfoyle, where I will visit in my next blog.

Sources & Further Information
Secret Commonwealth of Elves Fauns and Fairies, Reverend Robert Kirk
Sacred Texts - Online version of Robert Kirk's famous book
Information Leaflets at Barquhidder Church
Fraser Raitt's Balquhidder Website
Balquhidder Church

My next adventure...

2010-09-09T21:59:00.000+01:00
I apologise for my lack of blog updates this year, I've been moving house and my weekends have been taken over by gardening and decorating! All settled now though, so there'll be more blog posts soon I promise. Though if anyone happens to have a house brownie looking for a new home, I'd be more than willing to offer all the milk and butter he can eat, in exchange for some help with the housework! :)

Next week will be an exciting week for me, i'll be visiting somewhere i've been meaning to go for a long time... Doon Hill! Off in search of the Reverend Robert Kirk and the mysteries surrounding his disappearance all those long years ago. I'll be doing my best not to offend the faery folk, but should I not return then can someone kindly throw an iron dagger over my apparition should they see me passing by?

Netherwitton Fairies

2010-05-05T17:02:00.000+01:00
If there's one village in Northumberland that's full of fairies, it's Netherwitton, and after visiting it I can see why the faery folk are so attracted to this lovely little village. Infact it doesn't seem to have changed much in the past hundred years, with it's charming old cottages, little stream winding through the village centre, and lovely little wooded areas creeping in at the edges. The first of the Netherwitton fairy stories is about a milk maid, and took place in the time of George the third, so somewhere between 1760 and 1801 to be precise.
"Many years ago, 'ere George the Third was king', a girl who lived near Nether Witton, returning home from milking, with her pail on her head, saw many fairies gambolling in the fields, but which were invisible to her companions, though pointed out to them by her. On reaching home, and telling what she had seen, the circumstance of her power of vision being greater than that of her companions was canvassed in the family, and the cause at length discovered in her weise [a circular pad worn on the head to save it from the pressure of the pail, made from stocking, or a wreath of straw or grass] which was found to be of four-leaved clover: persons having about them a bunch, or even a single blade, of four leaved clover being supposed to possess the power of seeing fairies, even though elves should wish to be invisible; of percieving in their proper character evil spirits which assumed the form of men; and of detecting the arts of those who practised magic, necromancy, or witchcraft."

Our second story set in the village of Netherwitton, like the above story, can be found in the Local Historian's Table Book, Volume 3 of the Legendary Division (1846):
"A cottager and his wife, residing at this place, were one day visited by a fairy and his spouse, with their young child, which they wishes to leave in their charge. The cottager agreed to take care of the child for a certain period, when it had to be taken thence. The fairy gace the man a box of ointment, with which to anoint the child's eyes; but he had not on any account to touch himself with it, or some misfortune would befal him. For a long time, he and his wife were very careful to avoid the dangerous unction; but one day, when his wife was out, curiosity overcame his prudence, and he annointed his eye, without any noticable effect; but after a while, when walking through Long Horsley fair, he met the male fairy and accosted him. He started back in amazement at the recognition; but instantly guessing the truth, blew on the eyes of the cottager, and instantly blinded him. The child was never more seen."
I didn't spot any fairies or meet any milkmaids on my wander around Netherwitton, but I wouldn't be at all surprised to find them in this magical village. Perhaps I should return with a four-leaf clover tucked under my hat next time!

Sources & Further Information
Local Historian's Table Book, Legendary Division, Volume 3
Dictionary of British Folk-tales, Katharine Briggs
The Fairy Mythology, Thomas Keightley

The Hurl Stone, Chillingham

2010-05-05T11:01:00.000+01:00
Around Chillingham are some interesting old stones, and each seems to be hiding a mystery. Perhaps the most well known is the Hurl Stone near Newtown, said to be a favourite haunt of the fairies. As you might remember from my Cateran Hole blog entry, there is said to be an underground passage running from Cateran Hole to Henhole, another favourite site of the fairies.

According to an article by George Tate (1863), as explorers were passing along this passage and under the Hurl Stone, they heard fairy harp music and the pattering of tiny feet dancing, and shrill sweet voices chanting:
"Wind about and turn again,
And thrice around the Hurl Stane."

"Round about and wind again,
And thrice around the Hurl Stane."
The explorers of course headed home, they were sensible folk and knew not to disturb the fairy folk, especially when they were merry-making.

According to Curiosities of Northumberland (1970), "The name is probably a corruption of 'Earl's Stone' although some say it was given that name by people who believed in giants and explained that it had been hurled there by one of their race". Some believe the Hurl Stone to be the remains of an ancient cross, and that it was moved to the hill from a roadside location, some say that part of the stone was struck off by lightning.
Unfortunately there are no public footpaths leading to the Hurl Stone and it is on private land so I could only admire it from a distance. The larger tower seen next to it in the above photo is a more modern folly, the Hurlstone Tower, built by the landowner.

Also of interest as it may also refer to the Hurl Stone, is a story of a mysterious stone located somewhere between Lilburn and Middleton. According to 'Legends Respecting Huge Stones' by James Hardy (1844) in Local Historian's Table Book, Legendary Divison, Volume 2, here rests a stone "which in the suggestions of the "Religio Loci" is not to be removed while the present system of things maintains its stability". According to legend, two locals decided to dig for treasure under the stone, ignoring the often repeated tales of demonic watchers slumbering beneath, when "all at once, one of them heard a low fluttering as of something struggling to get free, come from beneath the stone". But his companion was not scared easily, and they resumed their work, when suddenly, "the stone commenced moving up and down with violent commotion, - and out there issued from under it - and the earth quaked to let it forth, - a creature all in white - in figure like a swan - that "flaffered and flew," and made such strange and hideous outcry, that the horror-struck delinquents, casting down their implements, hurried off, each in the direction his terrors prompted him, would farthest carry him, from the grasp of the evil thing, which his unhallowed doings had evoked from the invisible recesses of the earth, and whole rage no human power might avail to appease".
Unfortunately no one seems to know which stone in the Lilburn area the legend is attached to, or what the creature was, be it demon or faery. The legend could refer to the Hurl Stone itself, though that seems to be on the other side of Lilburn rather than the side near Middleton, or it could refer to the prehistoric standing stone at the base of Ewe Hill, but again that isn't in the direction of Middleton. There have also been a number of burial cairns discovered in the area, and the remains of old settlements, so unfortunately it's difficult to know which stone the legend refers to, we can only hope that the swan-like creature is still slumbering below!
(Above: Ewe Hill Standing Stone)
Sources & Further Information
Northumberland Legends, George Tate
Local Historian's Table Book, Legendary Division, Volume 2
Curiosities of Northumberland, Armstrong, Graham & Rowland
The Modern Antiquarian
English Heritage Pastscape

Fairies Caves, Cullercoats

2010-05-05T09:28:00.000+01:00

Most of the places I blog about require lots of trawling through old books, a bit of internet research, maybe some library visits, and at least 20 minutes of being buried under Ordinance Survey maps. However, this entry is about a place I stumbled across completely by accident! Though some would say there are no accidents.

There's a little costal bay in Cullercoats, home to a lifeboat station, old watch house, a marine laboratory, and some mysterious caves. I live in a town further up the coast and have been to Cullercoats on many occassions and wandered around the caves, but until a random glance at the tourist board one Spring afternoon in April, I had no idea they were known locally as the Fairies Caves!

I've never come across any fairy legends about the caves while reading local folklore and history books, so I imagine any stories that gave the caves their name were told verbally among the locals, rather than being written down. If anyone has any further information I'd love to hear it though.

In an interview on the Tyne & Wear Museums website a lady recalls her memories of old Cullercoats, she tells "I never ventured very far into the caves, but the caves were there, you know, there was the Fairy's Cave and there was the Smuggler's Cave, and so on". This suggests that the caves have been associated with fairies for some time, and the name wasn't invented purely for the tourist board. Perhaps the name was originally given to the smaller caves that are too small to be used by humans, and would have been perfectly sized for use by the local fairies!

There's no shortage of mysterious caves along this stretch of coast, including a cave full of goblins and infernal demons at Tynemouth, i'll save that for a future blog though!

Sources & Further Information
Tyne & Wear Museums
Changing Face of Cullercoats
Photos of old Cullercoats

Whittle Dene Fairies

2010-02-21T15:51:00.000Z

After two months of hiding indoors wrapped in warm blankets, drinking hot chocolate, and wishing Spring would hurry up and make an appearance... finally, i'm out in search of faeries!

Whittle Dene, near Ovingham in Northumberland is said to be a favourite haunt of the fairy folk. The earliest reference i've managed to find so far can be found in Volume 3 of the Local Historian's Table Book, Legendary Division, published in 1846, which states:
"Among the romantic thickets, the projecting rocks, and the deep whirling pools of the sequestered ravine of Whittle Dean, near Ovingham, Northumberland, spots are still pointed out by the neighbouring villagers, as the favourite retreats of harmless fairies and weeping lovers."
A more recent reference to the fairies can be found in Northumbrian Heritage written by Nancy Ridley and published in 1968:
"Local legend says Whittle Dene is inhabited by fairies, who perhaps by now, have driven out the evil spirit of Long Lonkin."
Long Lonkin was said to be a local villain who, together with a maid servant, robbed the master of Welton and murdered his family. Visit Prudhoe.org for further information on this local legend. I'm sure the local fairies would not have approved!

The Whittle Dene Fairies seem to be a little shy and I haven't managed to find much more written about them, but it's easy to see why the area is associated with fairies, with it's old overgrown mill ruins, gnarled old oak trees, and curious benches and knotted branches!

Sources & Further Information
Local Historian's Table Book Legendary Division Volume 3, MA Richardson
Northumbrian Heritage, Nancy Ridley
Prudhoe.org: Long Lonkin Information

Merry Yule!

2009-12-21T14:19:00.000Z
Wishing you all a very Merry Yule! No faery stories to share today, just some magical photos taken at Plessey Wood this weekend, we've been blessed with some truly wintery weather! I'm sure the faeries will enjoy sliding down these icy slopes, and the goblins will be throwing snowballs at any humans who venture too close!

Elf Hills, Cambo

2009-12-06T15:26:00.000Z

In a little village in Northumberland called Cambo, curious signposts can be found pointing to the 'Elf Hills'. I am unsure if the name refers to a specific hill or a range of hills, but it appears on OS maps and older local maps as being just outside the village of Cambo, and next to a farm that also shares the name of 'Elf Hills'. Although the hills seem to have been given their name a great long time ago, the earliest mention I have found of the name being used in connection to fairies dates back to 1844, where it is briefly mentioned in volume 2 of the Local Historian's Table Book as being a haunt of the fairies, but unfortunately no further details are given. A more detailed account is given in 'Tales and Legends of Northumbria' by M Douglas (1934):
"The Elf-hills at Cambo were the haunt of the moorland Elves, dressed in the brown and gold of the heather and bracken among which they made their home. They were disturbed not at all when the hot-trod made their appearance, summoning Northumbrians to meet a border raid."
A book called 'Northumberland, described by Agnes Herbert' (1923) explains this further:
"The Elf-Hills near Cambo - that is, Cambo Hill, where Sir John de Cambo kept watch and ward - had, as permanent tenants, a gregarious band of "the little people" who did not in the least resent that their stronghold was often invaded and used again and again as a signal tower on which the wisp of tow mounted on a spear-point was set on fire when a raid was imminent."
Perhaps the most interesting stories relating to the Elf Hills can be found in a book called 'In the troublesome times' published by the Cambo Women's Institute in 1929. The book contains stories of local folklore and customs collected from local residents, and the Elf Hills gets many a mention including:
"Two or three other people, including Mrs Hedley of Elf Hills, have mentioned, or pointed out, "the ring on the knowe yonder".

"I think there's only one story about Elf Hills, that Elves danced around in a circle, and made a ring, and it's there yet." - Edith Henderson of school age, Scots Gap.

"My grandfather, who brought me up, used to tell me about the elves at Elf Hills." - Mrs Keith, refering to her grandfather Henry Codling

"My wife's brother, Hedley of Elf Hills, found a spear sticking out of the runner(small stream) down yonder near Prior Hall." - George Shade [the book goes on to say that the local area was dug up and ancient bracelets were found].

"My husband used to point out the elves' track from Elf Hills to Rothley Mills to us, it is in the field where the water is." - Mrs Thomas Hepple
I find the above quote especially interesting as nearby Rothley Mill is also famous as being a haunt of the fairies. The book goes on to say that the track runs from West to East and that Mr Robert Hepple explained in an Institute meeting that the track is distinct from the church track. What I wouldn't give to have been a fly on the wall at that Women's Institute meeting!
On a freezing cold and rainy Sunday, myself and my partner battled against the elements and made a visit to the Elf Hills. It nearly finished before it had begun when on the walk along the path to the hills I stopped to take some photos of the lovely old trees, and was so engrossed with their beauty that I turned around and walked straight into a tree branch hanging at head height! Luckily my head was well padded with woolley hats, but i'm sure the fairies got a good laugh out of it!

(Rain reflecting off the lense, almost looks like an etherial fae perched on the wall!)
Onwards to the Elf Hills we walked and I can see why these were once considered to be the dwelling place of the Elven folk, the lush green fields go on as far as the eye can see, and dotted along them are sunken pits densely covered in bracken and twisted gorse branches, the perfect hiding place for fairies! As you can see from the bottom photo, there are still circular patches where the grass won't grow, perhaps due to old quarry works below the soil, or maybe just from the nightly fairy dances!

For anyone intrigued by possible name origins of the Elf Hills, there is a fascinating paper called 'Are there any Elves in Anglo-Saxon Place-Names?' by A Hall (2006) available here on the University of Glasgow Website.
Sources & Further Information
In the troublesome times, Cambo Women's Institute
Northumberland, Agnes Herbert
Local Historian's Table Book Volume 2
Tales and Legends of Northumbria, M Douglas

Goblin Combe

2009-11-19T15:07:00.000Z

"There are "sights seen" here, though their nature remains vague. And if you want to get to Goblin Coombe, the best way is to go as far as the Highway-man's oak and then lose yourself"
I first started researching Faery Folklore after finding a dusty old book in a second hand book shop in Weston Super Mare. This book was called 'A Somerset Sketch Book' and as I scanned through the chapter headings... The Ploughing Match..... The Rat-Catcher.... The Sheep-Shearing...one in particular caught my eye... Goblin Coombe. At that time I lived in Somerset and although I already had an interest in faeries and an interest in local history, until that point I didn't realise just how many faery stories there are that are specific to certain locations and are only known mostly to local residents. I bought the book and read it on the train home, and a couple of months later myself and my partner were driving along to Goblin Combe in search of Goblins. That was long before I began this blog, but I thought it time to include the story of Goblin Combe as I ventured there on an Autumn day rather like today. The quotes featured below are from 'A Somerset Sketch-Book' by H. Hay Wilson (1912).

"That lane to Goblin Coombe, one June morning, promised to be unending, and nothing happened for all its turns and twists until suddenly a small boy-thing came walking around the next corner. He had very large ears like jug-handles, and an expressionless freckled face; and when he was asked where the road led he only smiled and would not answer."

"It is as lonely a place as you can see, a cheerful loneliness, barren and secure because the plough would be useless in Goblin Coombe. It is a long, winding, narrow cleft in the limestone; the steep sides are bare above, and dotted with dwarf-thorns twisted into queer shapes by the mighty sea wind that sweeps up from the channel whose waters shimmer far away beyond the valley. Shrubs and saplings grip on the shelves stony sides, and the grey boulders crop up among tufts of gorse and patches of herbage and clumps of ash and fir, and the whitebeam. Up above where the tilled land meets the Goblin region there are gnarled hedgerow oaks that seem to 'girn' and threaten like queer elf-things bound fast in the tree's slow growth."

"At other times the Coombe belongs to nature - or the goblins, which you will! And to confirm their right, in the middle of the coombe a gaunt grey signboard stands up declaring, in stark defiance of the evidence of your eyes, that there is "no path". Whence it is plain that the track winding down the valley is an illusion, a goblin path that leads you straight into fairyland."

"You could fancy that wood beneath the crescent moon alive with a silent stir of wee things, "green jacket, red cap, owl's feather," peering across the near stone wall with curious, sharp, elfin faces at the red firelight, streaming to meet the moonlight without."

We couldn't find the 'no path' sign, but we did find a large hollow old tree large enough to fit a person inside. I imagine this could possibly be the highway man's tree referred to in the story. We also found a forest bench with a neat row of stones placed on top in a curious manner. The work of local children, or could it be the work of the goblins?
Details of another fairy sighting in Goblin Combe can be found in 'Folktales of England' by Katherine Briggs and Ruth Tongue (1965):
"There was a parcel of children and they was a-picking primroses, see, and one poor little dear her wandered away on her lone self right down into Goblin Combe. She were only a little trot, see, and didn't know no better. Well, when she do find she's a lost she cries, and the tears do run down her dear little face, and dap on her pinafore like summer rain, and she do throw her self against a rock. Then the rock opens and there's the fairises all come to comfort her tears. They do give her a gold ball and they lead the dear little soul safe home - on account she was carrying primroses, see. Well, twas the wonder of the village and the conjuror he gets the notion he'd aget his fistes on more than one gold ball when next the fairises opened the hill. So he do pick a bunch of primroses and he go on up Goblin Combe, and he was glad enough to get in to the rock after all he see and hear on the way up. Well, twasn't the right day, nor the right number of primroses, and he wasn't no dear little soul - so they took him!"
Sources & Further Information
A Somerset Sketch Book, H. Hay Wilson
Folktales of England, Briggs & Tongue
Goblin Combe Environment Centre

Thirlwall Castle

2009-11-19T14:03:00.000Z

In the town of Thirlwall stands the remains of a 12th Century castle, said to be guarded by a demonic dwarf. According to volume 1 of the Local Historian's Table Book, Legendary division (1843):
"A Baron of Thirlwall castle returned from a continental war laden with abundance of treasure, amongst which was a table of solid gold. The gold table, it was furthermore said, was guarded day and night by a hideous dwarf, represented by many to be the foul fiend himself. In a predatory excursion of the Scots, however, the castle was stormed and taken by night, and the baron and his retainers after a desperate resistance were slain. The castle was ransacked for the treasure, the room containing it, was forcibly entered, but dwarf - gold table - and money bags had disappeared. They searched dungeon and vault, but nothing could be found, so after setting fire to the castle they departed. The dwarf (according to tradition) during the heat of the engagement removed the treasure, and after throwing it into a deep well jumped in after it, and by his infernal power closed the top of the well over himself and his charge."
It is said that the dwarf still haunts the castle, keeping a watchful eye over the treasure hidden beneath. Some versions of the legend say he is under a spell, which can only be broken by the only son of a widow. The Local Historian's Table Book adds that 50 years ago (c. 1793) a man was ploughing and found what he thought to be the well. He returned alone at night to investigate further, but despite searching day and night he could never find the place again.

According to the National Park Website, during the restoration of nearby Blenkinsopp Castle, the entrance to a secret passage was discovered in the north-east corner. It is thought that there may have once been a secret passageway connecting Blenkinsopp Castle to Thirlwall Castle, to provide an escape route should either castle be captured by the enemy. Strangely enough, Blenkinsopp castle is said to be haunted by the ghost of a white lady whose treasure is hidden down this same secret passageway, so there must be quite a collection of gold gathering down there!

If there's one thing i've learnt about Northumberland (apart from the alarming number of evil dwarves!), it's that no matter how lovely the weather is during the week, it always rains at the weekends! On an overcast and rainy Northumberland Sunday, myself and my chauffeur/navigator/very understanding boyfriend put on our winter woolies and waterproofs and ventured off to Thirlwall Castle. Just as we got there the skies opened up so unfortunately my exploring and photo taking was cut short! No signs of any secret tunnels or overgrown wells, but it really is a lovely old castle ruin and definitely has a feeling of the Fae about it!

Sources & Further Information
Local Historian's Table Book, Vol 1, Legendary Division
National Park Website

Cateran Hole

2009-09-22T10:07:00.000+01:00

The Cateran's Hole, in the middle of deserted moorland, is according to legend the start of a long underground tunnel leading all the way to the Henhole in the Cheviots, about 16 miles away. One story tells of a party of young men from Bewick who decided to explore the tunnel, lead by a man named Hall. They assembled at the Cateran's Hole one evening, as they were too busy working during the day, armed with candles and food provisions. In they wandered, scrambling over rocks, plunging through water, stooping down to pass under rocks, and sometimes even crawling. Many of the party lost heart and headed home, but Hall continued onwards and persuaded many of the men to stay. Eventually they came to a huge stone that appeared to block the way, but Hall was not going to give up easily and climbed to the top of the rock and found a gap large enough to squeeze through. His men followed after him. On the other side, they found themselves in a large chamber, and sat down to rest. An extract from 'Northumbrian Legends' by George Tate (1863) continues:
"While resting, [they] were startled by the sound of wondrous music, which seemed to come down through the earth above them; the strains were wild but entrancing,now rising and swelling, and then dying away like the gushes of harmony issuing from the AEolian harp, as the evening breeze fitfully sweeps through the strings when other sounds are mute. Ere long, the pattering of tiny feet was heard beating time to the wild music; and soon blending with these sounds, a song was chanted by many voices, shrill, though sweet, but yet unlike earthly tones; and this was the burden of the song-

"Wind about and turn again,
And thrice around the Hurl Stane."

"Round about and wind again,
And thrice around the Hurl Stane."
The party were terrified, and knew well the dangers of venturing into the domain of the fairies, and realised they were now underneath the Hurl Stone, a favourite place of the fairies. They abandoned the rest of their journey, and headed home, never to venture back into Cateran's Hole again.

We decided it was about time someone ventured back down there, and myself and my partner in navigation [without whom i'd never find any of these places, I have a terrible sense of direction and am permanently pixy-led!] headed down Cateran's Hole.
We managed to walk about 35 metres along the underground tunnel without difficulty, but unfortunately the path was blocked by some very low hanging rocks and we could not venture on as far as the Hurl Stone! According to this report, there is another small chamber after the low hanging rocks, followed by a breakdown which cannot be passed. So it seems to be unknown whether or not the passage did once continue on as far as the Hurl Stone, or if it even headed in that direction. Perhaps the fairies got annoyed with all the trespassers and blocked up the tunnel!

Sources & Further Information
Northumberland Legends, George Tate
Caves in the fell sandstone of Northumberland, G.J. Mullan

Dancing Green Hill

2009-09-22T09:54:00.000+01:00
Near North Hazelrigg, next to a winding country road, stands Dancing Green Hill. According to Denham Tracts Vol 2:

"The Dancing Green knowe, among the heathy-backed Cockenheugh range, as well as the Dancing Hill, where stretch the bleak moors behind Beanly, still testify by their names to their being resorts of the "good people" for their favourite diversion."

Sources & Further Information
Denham Tracts Vol 2, Denham

The Cauld Lad O'Hilton

2009-09-22T08:43:00.000+01:00

A mischievious brownie was once said to live in the kitchen at Hylton Castle. He took joy in throwing pots and pans around during the night, after the servants had taken great care in tidying it before retiring to bed. However, if the servants had left the kitchen in a state of disarray then he would carefully tidy it and spend the night cleaning up the mess. According to 'Folk Tales of the North Country' by Grice (1944), the Cauld Lad's mishievious tricks included overturning chairs, rolling up mats, emptying the linen from the cupboards, pilling all the pans in the middle of the floor, and throwing water over the wood pile. He was often heard singing:
"Wae's me, wae's me
The acorn is not yet
Fallen from the tree
That's to grow the wood
That's to make the candle
That's to rock the bairn
That's to grow a man
That's to lay me."
The servants had enough of his mischief and decided to banish him away. Luckily, they knew the best way to banish a Brownie was to give him new clothing, as a smartly dressed Brownie considers himself far too well dressed for housework. The servants made a small green cloak of silk and a red velvet hood, and laid them infront of the fire. At midnight, the Cauld Lad appeared and tried the clothing on in delight, then danced around the kitchen, singing:
"Here's a cloak and here's a hood,
The Cauld Lad O'Hilton will do no more good."
He disappeared, never to be seen again in the Hylton Castle kitchens. However, according to some sources he was later spotted rowing people across the Wear in a ferry boat, kept tethered near the castle. He would row people half way across the wear, then disappear or give them a terrible fright, returning later to row them back to the castle.
Some versions of the legend refer to the Cauld Lad O'Hilton as being a ghost, sometimes that of a young stable boy called Roger Skelton, who was killed in the 16th century by a baron of Hilton. Other versions of the tale can be found here and here.

Once a year, as part of Heritage Open days, the castle is opened to the public. I went along with my partner and trusty navigator, and we had a good wander around the castle. No strange goings on or Cauld Lad sightings, but a beautiful castle and well worth a visit.

We also ventured along to the ferry crossing in the river where the Cauld Lad is said to row to the castle, but it seems someone has put an end to his pranks and stuck a rather large rock in his boat!

Sources & Further Information
Local Historian's Table Book, vol 3, Richardson
The Fairy Mythology, Keightley
Folklore of the Northern Counties, Henderson
Denham Tracts Vol 1, Denham
Folk Tales of the North Country, Grice
Friends of Hylton Castle

Pensher Hill Fairies

2009-09-22T08:04:00.000+01:00
Pensher hill, now more commonly known as Penshaw Hill, was once said to be a fairy hill where the fairies gathered to bake their bread and cakes. According to 'Legends and Superstitions of Durham' by William Brockie (1886):
"The fairies used to be heard patting their butter on the slope of Pensher Hill, when people were passing in the dark. A man once heard one of them say, "mend that peel!". Next day, going past again, he found a broken peel lying on the ground. So he took it up and mended it. The day after that, when going along the road with a cart, he saw a piece of bread lying on a stone at the root of the hedge, at the identical place, with nice-looking fresh butter spread upon it: but he durst neither eat it himself, nor give it to his horses. The consequence was that before he got to the top of the "lonnin" both his horses fell down dead."
Penshaw hill is now more famously known for the Penshaw Monument, which sits at the top of the hill, and also for its part in the legend of the Lambton Worm. The hill was once also home to an Iron Age hill fort.

Sources and Further Information
Legends and Superstitions of Durham, William Brockie
The Story of the Lambton Worm
Penshaw Hill Hillfort
The Penshaw Monument

Hermitage Castle Redcap

2009-09-11T08:59:00.000+01:00

Whilst researching the Brown Man of the Muirs appearance at Hermitage Castle, I came across another legend of the Faery kind, the Redcap advisor to Lord Soulis.

According to legend, Lord Soulis was a cruel tyrant, wizard, and practitioner of the Black Arts. He is said to have fortified his castle by all available means, using both materials and infernal incantations, and recieved advice from his familiar and henchman, Robin Redcap. Redcaps, also known as powries or dunters, are said to be a breed of evil goblins with a lust for blood. They mostly inhabit ruined castles along the border between England and Scotland, where they murder travellers to dye their hats with their victims' blood. It is said that if the blood on their hats dries out, then the redcap will die. From Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (1802):
"Lord Soulis he sat in Hermitage castle.
And beside him Old Redcap sly ;
" Now tell me, thou sprite, who art meikle of might,
The death that I must die ?"

" While thou -shalt bear a charmed life.
And hold that life of me,
'Gainst lance and arrow, sword and knife,
I shall thy warrant be."
It was said that Lord Soulis could not be killed by metal weapons, but was eventually defeated at the orders of the King of Scotland. According to Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (1802):
"Tradition proceeds to relate, that the Scotish king, irritated by reiterated complaints, peevishly exclaimed to the petitioners," Boil him, if you please, but let me hear no more of him." Satisfied with this answer, they proceeded with the utmost haste to execute the commission, which they accomplished by boiling him alive on the Nine-stane Rig, in a cauldron said to have been long preserved at Skelf-hill, a hamlet betwixt Hawick and the Hermitage. Messengers, it is said, were immediately dispatched by the king, to prevent the eft'ects of such a hasty declaration ; but they only arrived in time to witness the conclusion of the ceremony."
Robin Redcap is said to still be seen at Hermitage Castle, guarding his treasure. I'm glad to say that on our visit we did not encounter Redcap, but as the castle is open to the public every summer, i'm sure there's no shortage of victims!

Sources and Further Information
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border Vol 2, Walter Scott
Undiscovered Scotland, Hermitage Castle
Undiscovered Scotland, William de Soulis

Brown Man of the Muirs - Part 2

2009-09-11T08:23:00.000+01:00

Continuing on the trail of the Brown Man of the Muirs, we headed to Hermitage Castle, where according to 'Cout of Keeldar' by J Leydon, the Cout o' Keelder met his fate and was drowned by the soldiers of Lord Soulis in the nearby river. The ballad tells of young Keeldar venturing out to hunt in Liddesdale and meeting a brown dwarf, who calls himself 'The Brown Man of the Muirs'. An extract reads:
"His russet weeds were brown as heath,
That clothes the upland fell;
And the hair of his head was frizzly red,
As the purple heather bell.

An urchin, clad in prickles red,
Clung cowring to his arm;
The hounds they howl'd, and backwards fled,
As struck by fairy charm.":
The brown dwarf refers to himself as 'The Brown Man of the Muir' and is none too pleased to be awoken by "stag-hound's cry, where stag-hound ne'er should be". He warns the young man then leaves, only to reappear a few verses later when young Keeldar travels 3 times around the Keeldar stone:
"The rude crag rocked; - "I come for death!
I come to work thy woe!"
-And 'twas the Brown Man of the Heath
That murmured from below."
Young Keeldar meets Soulis of Liddesdale's men and is invited to a feast at Hermitage, where his men become enchanted, though Keeldar remains awake due to a Rowan leaf in his plume. A battle begins and the Brown Man reappears, explaining that young Keeldar's charmed mail will protect him from weapons but that "No spell can stay the living tide, or charm the rushing stream". Young Keeldar escapes and reaches the stream, but the enemy force him under where he is drowned, as predicted by the Brown Man.
Below you can see the river where the Cout o' Keelder was drowned, and the mound at the nearby ruined chapel where his body is said to rest.

The castle and grounds are owned by Historic Scotland, and are open to the public from April to September. Entry is subject to an admission fee.
Sources and Further Information
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border Vol 2, Walter Scott
The Lady of the Lake, Walter Scott
Poems and Legendary Ballads Vol 1, William Stuart
Historic Scotland

Brown Man of the Muirs - Part 1

2009-07-20T09:15:00.000+01:00
According to Legend, in the moors surrounding the village of Elsdon, lives the Brown Man of the Muirs. A man of dwarven statue dressed in brown, with bright red hair, and a ferocious glare. He is said to be a guardian of the moors and protector of the wild beasties who live there, punishing those who hunt or harm them. A lady named Elizabeth Cockburn of Offerton told a tale of the Brown Man to Robert Surtees, who then shared the story with Walter Scott in about 1809.
"In the year before the great Rebellion, two young men from Newcastle were sporting on the High Moors above Elsdon, and, after pursuing their game several hours, sat down to dine in a green glen, near one of the mountain streams. After their repast, the younger lad ran to the brook for water; and after stooping to drink, was surprised, on lifting his head again, by the appearance of a brown dwarf, who stood on a crag covered with brackens across the burn. This extraordinary personage did not appear to be above half the stature of a common man; but was uncommonly stout and broad-built, having the appearance of vast strength; his dress was entirely brown, the colour of the brackens, and his head covered with frizzled red hair; his countenance was expressive of the most savage ferocity, and his eyes glared like a bull. It seems he addressed the young man: first threatening him with his vengeance for having trespassed on his demesnes, and asking him if he knew in whose presence he stood? The youth replied that he supposed him to be the Lord of the Moors; that he had offended through ignorance, and offered to bring him the game he had killed. The dwarf was a little mollified by this submission; but remarked that nothing coul,d be more offensive to him than such an offer; as he considered the wild animals as his subjects, and never failed to avenge their destruction. He condescended further to inform him, that he was, like himself, mortal, though of years far exceeding the lot of common humanity, and (what I should not have an idea of) that he hoped for salvation. He never, he added, fed on any thing that had life, but lived in the summer on whortle-berries, and in winter on nuts and applies, of which he had great store in the woods. Finally, he invited his new acquaintance to accompany him home, and partake his hospitality: an offer which the young was on the point of accepting, and was just going to spring across the brook (which if he had done, says Elizabeth, the dwarf would certainly have torn him in pieces) when his foot was arrested by the voice of his companion, who thought he tarried long, and on looking around again, 'the wee Brown Man was fled'. The story adds, that he was imprudent enough to slight the admonition, and to sport over the moors on his way homewards; but soon after his return, he fell into a lingering disorder, and died within the year."
We decided to begin our explorations of the locations of this myth on the moors to the north east of Elsdon. First choice would have been the Keeldar stone itself, where the Brown Man is said to live, but the terrain would be rather ambitious for my current fitness level so it'll have to wait a while! The moors, as shown in the photos above and below, would be the perfect hideaway for the Brown Man, with rocky crags and caves, and masses upon masses of bracken. There were far more sheep wandering around than were probably present when he first moved into the area, but there were signs of rabbits, deer, foxes, and we met a little lizard while stopping for lunch. One thing hasn't changed though, the abundance of whortleberries!

Sources and Further Information
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border Vol 2, Walter Scott
The Memoir of Robert Surtees, George Taylor
The Lady of the Lake, Walter Scott
Poems and Legendary Ballads Vol 1, William Stuart