Students of anthropology, comparative religion, folklore, etc, have long known that some mountains, rock outcrops, rivers and other features on the Earth have been imbued with particular sanctity – i.e., are sacred. Some are deemed as the abodes of spirits (good & bad), gods and other transpersonal qualities. Most mountaineers and travellers talk of similar living qualities in Nature’s various forms. So it is that we also find sites across Britain with great myths attached to them. Examples that immediately spring to mind are Pendle Hill (Lancs), Schiehallion (Perthshire), Beinn na Cailleach (Perthshire), Simon’s Seat (N.Yorks), and many others that we see on modern OS-maps dedicated to such mythic characters as the Devil, Robin Hood, fairies, Thor, Grim and other deities. Although such sites are not generally thought of as being important in the lives of our ancestors, such places were imbued with similar animistic qualities as found at standing stones, megalithic rings and other human creations; but we can be damn sure that the spirit-qualities (genius loci) of Nature’s creations had much greater power than anything created by humans!
Dead easy! From the townships of Grasscroft, Uppermill, or Greenfield, take the legendary moorland road up to Saddleworth tops (A635), keeping your eye on the modern obelisk on the hilltop to your left and you’ll see a large rock outcrop almost next to it. That’s where you’re heading. Once you reach near the moorland level, walk in whatever way you see fit towards the obelisk and large stones. Enjoy…! I s’ppose though, it’d be better for you if you started from the valley bottom at Uppermill and walked up the hill.
Folklore
Seemingly a ritual place of the sun, this fine site was known by the local folk-name of the Druid Stones, according to Jessica Lofthouse. (1976) But more importantly in legend, this great rocky outcrop was the abode of an old giant called Alphin, who had a rival called Alder who also wandered the moors here. Both these giants vied for the hand of a lady called Rimmon, who preferred Alphin to Alder. In good old fashioned ways they contested for her hand, throwing giant rocks across the moors at each other, but “Alphin was hit and killed, with Rimmon looking on.” His grave lies on these moors somewhere, seemingly unfound. …And intriguingly it seems that we’ve actually located a prehistoric tomb which may account for the legend of Alphin’s death! (Watch this space!)
A slight variation on the tale describes the Lady Rimmon to be of fairy stock, named ‘Raura Peena’ (a phonetic spelling of a local dialect name), who in one account from the Notes & Queries journal, 1850, tried luring a local man into her magickal recess of the Fairy Holes, on the slopes beneath the Pots and Pans Stone.
Local tradition also tells that the naturally-worn ‘bowls’ atop of the rocks held magical properties — water being collected from them was said to be good to cure eye problems. This is a curative theme we find at some bullauns, cup-marked stones and old cross-bases and would strongly indicates that pre-christian practices did once take place here.
References:
Lofthouse, Jessica, North Country Folklore, Robert Hale: London 1976.
Dead easy! If you come from Silsden, take the Holden Road up onto the moor edge, all the way up the wooded hill. As you reach the top, keep your eyes peeled for the stone in the slope to your left. Otherwise, coming from Riddlesden, take the moor road upwards (to Silsden Road) as if you’re gonna visit Peggy Mawson’s Well, the Baldwin Stone or some of the Rivock carvings. Keep on the road to where you see the microwave tower on Pinfold Hill to your right. It’s just below it!
Archaeology & History
Robin Hood’s Stone from above
Flints have been found on the slopes above here, but records of this stone only go back — as far as I’ve found — to 1850 (this seems to typify records around the Keighley district, which only seems to record anything post-1500 AD). In mid-Victorian times, plans were afoot to use the rock for building material, but local people objected and so the stone kept its position overlooking the valley. There are a number of very defined ‘cups’ on the sloping face of the stone, but several (though not all) of these have all the likeness of the holes dug into the rock by climbers — though why climbers would even think to cut foot-holes into this easy rock beggars belief!
Folklore
One of several sharp well-defined ‘cups’ on the rock
Not too surprisingly, folklore tells that this stone was one of the places where our old hero Robin Hood sheltered, when being chased by god-knows-who in one of his many exploits. We’ve no way of proving this of course, but the sparse woodland remains above here also bear the hero’s name. What seems to be a more modern piece of industrial folklore alleges that this stone was actually put here by workers in the Victorian times! The boulder allegedly lived near Barden, Bolton Abbey, but was blocking construction work, so was uprooted and moved all the way to where it now sits! In bygone times the rock was a local meeting place – perhaps around Beltane, in line with Robin Hood festivities.
References:
Gray, Johnnie, Through Airedale from Goole to Malham, Elliot Stock: London 1891.
From Durness take the road east for a couple of miles till you see the signpost which takes you on the left-hand side of the road, down to the coast. You can’t miss it!
Archaeology & History
Findings here allege to take the history of the place into the mesolithic period, but we don’t know this for sure. An excavation here by a Mr Donald Macdonald of Sangobeg in 1904 uncovered the presence of several small bone pins, which seem consistent with Mesolithic finds elsewhere. When archaeo-excavations were done here in 1982, human remains going back to at least Iron Age were found in the simple deposit of many shells. A further analysis by the Glasgow Archaeology Unit in 1996 was prevented of some excavation by (get this!) those screwy Health & Safety regulations. Here’s a definite case for an independent group to undertake work here, as we could ignore such preventative measures (and if we drown it’s our fault!). Smoo Cave’s primary function is pretty obvious: it would have been used for both shelter and ritual.
Folklore
The folklore here tells of magick and occultism and possible remnants of rites of passage lore. For herein, many centuries ago, a powerful land-owner called Lord Reay — reputed as a master in the black arts — battled with the devil in the Smoo Cave.
The devil was keeping watch on Lord Reay following a previous dispute between the two of them, and espied him as he entered the cave. As Alexander Polson told it, the cave
“consists of three caverns, one within the other. Lord Reay had got as far as the second, and his dog, which had gone on in advance, returned howling and hairless. By this, Lord Reay knew that Satan was there before him, and bravely waited the attack, which was soon made, and his lordship fought lustily. Happily at the opportune moment a cock crew. This frightened the devil and his attendant witches, but Lord Reay stood between them and the exit. In their fright they blew holes through the roof of the cave, and this is the origin of the two openings through which the Smoo burns fall.”
Pitch black cave; protective spirit animal; encountering one’s psychological nemesis; unconscious battles with Underworld forces; rebirth of the sun at cock-crowing time; the conquering of the dark forces and renewal of Lord Reay. These are typical hallmarks probably signifying folk-remnants of shamanism and rites of passage, for which this cave may once have been used.
References:
Polson, Alexander, Scottish Witchcraft Lore, W. Alexander: Inverness 1932.
In terms of getting here, follow the directions given by H.C. Collins (1946), who reached here from Healey, north of Rochdale. “Once past Lousy Hillock the track continues in front of Brown House Reservoir… The track climbs Faffelty Brow under the lea of Man Stone Edge on the left”, above the Rossendale Way footpath. You can of course come straight up from Whitworth, heading up the eastern hill over Lobden golf course. The site’s to the northeast edge of the course.
Folklore
I first read of this a couple of decades back, in Jessica Lofthouse’s (1976) folklore book, but her pronunciation of the site — which I sought and sought, without success — made finding the place really troublesome. Thankfully, the local guidebook of Harold Collins (1946) has brought this site into focus once more and, it would seem, the probable site of prehistoric archaeological remains. But until we get over here and have a good look round, that aspect of the Man Stone will have to await assessment.
Collins (1946) described the “huge stone on the moortop on the left of the track” he’d been walking along, telling how “according to legend it bears the imprint of a human hand and was thrown (here) from Blackstone Edge by Robin Hood.”
Lofthouse (1976) told similarly when she was describing the folklore of Robin Hood’s Bed, about six miles east of here, by the Yorkshire-Lancashire border, saying,
“Robin was a mighty hurler as well as a bowman without peer. To while away waiting time in the Bed he took a large boulder from the giant’s overspill at hand, threw it and watched its course. Six miles away on Monstone Edge that boulder dropped, a feat amazing , and has been called Robin Hood’s Quoit ever after!”
But the “quoit”, said Lofthouse, was there centuries before any legendary Robin Hood — as it would have been. As far as I can find though, no such prehistoric relic ‘officially’ exists upon this hill. But as those of us who’ve been into seeking these old sites know, that doesn’t necessarily mean a thing. Henry Fishwick’s (1889) notes about the markings on the rock — “and certain impressions on its surface are said to be the marks of the fingers and thumb of the thrower” —may also prove fruitful.
Adding fuel to an authentic animistic history is the existence, once, of the Old Man’s consort: his Old Woman, or Cailleach, whose well and other landscape features existed to the north. Much of our peasant history is clearly just beneath the surface in this unexplored archaeomythic region…
References:
Collins, H.C., Rambles round Rochdale, Thomas Yates: Rochdale 1946.
Fishwick, Henry, History of the Parish of Rochdale, James Clegg: London 1889.
Lofthouse, Jessica, North Country Folklore, Robert Hale: London 1976.
To get here, go down the A82 about four-and-a-half miles south of Tarbet (along the Loch Lomond road). Near a burn coming down the hill is an old house, long in ruin, and near the side of this is an old path – more for deer than city-folk. Go up through the wooded hillside for about a half-mile (amble the trek and make it a nice hour’s walk to get into the place). I’d take the stream itself, as you get more into the nature of the place once you get up the slope: there’s more to see, feel and a healthy water supply en route.
Folklore
This is more of a ‘holy loch’ than a holy well — for obvious reasons. Although it’s not much bigger than a large pond, it is little-known, but has long had the tradition of being an abode of the sith, or faerie-folk. There is, of course, a tendency to find prehistoric remains where the sith have their repute, but there seems little on official records nearby.
Tradition tells that the loch was actually formed in ancient times by locals damming the burn for water supply. Another tells the same in order that a mill could be fed with constant water – though no mill can be found. If this latter tradition is true however, the fairy creature here could have been a brownie – though they are generally more a lowland elemental. One of the reasons the place has been named after the little people is that when certain light falls on it, at the right time of day and year, green triangular shapes emerge from the water formed by deposits hidden beneath the surface (hence the original Gaelic name, Lochan Uaine, or the Green Loch).
Local historian Norman Douglas echoed the folktale described many years earlier by the great John Gregorson Campbell (1900), telling that,
“another story is that the local people would deposit their sheeps’ fleeces in the Fairy Loch overnight, wish for them to be dyed a certain colour, and overnight the fairies would carry out their wish.”
References:
Campbell, John G., Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, James MacLehose: Glasgow 1900.
Go west through Stanbury village towards Lancashire for a mile till you reach the end of Ponden Reservoir. Where the water ends, follow the small track up to, and past, Whitestone Farm, till you reach the stream. Follow the valley up…
Archaeology & History
As the great Yorkshire historian J. Horsfall Turner (1879) told, “Ponden Kirk consists of a ledge of high rocks, dry in summer, but forming a stupendous cataract after heavy rain. It was here that Mrs Nicholls (Currer Bell) caught a severe cold shortly before her death.” The site is a fine one – not to be attempted from the base by unfit doods, unless you’re really serious about your climbing! But to those of us who like clambering up rocks and wholesome scenery, walk to the site via the stream (Ponden Clough Beck) and get to the cleft in the rock face. Tis a truly fine place!
Ponden Kirk, from below
In 1913, one writer posited the notion that the opening in the rocks through which local folk crawl (see Folklore, below) “is seemingly artificial” – which aint quite true, sadly.
Once on the tops above the Kirk, you’ve one helluva decent view, be it raining or sunny. On the far northeastern horizon arises the great omphalos of Almscliffe Crags; and next to that is the elongated top of Baildon Hill; and a little further northeast is Otley Chevin. It would be good to visit here on a few of the old heathen days and watch the sunrise, just to see if there are any intriguing solar observations to be made! (take a tent though – or p’raps, if you’re like us, don’t bother, but you’ll be bloody cold for the night!) The only potential sunrises of heathen significance appear to be midsummer and Beltane….
Ponden Kirk on 1851 map
For me at least, one of the things which gives this site an intriguing form of sanctity is the fact that the Kirk itself forms the head at the end of the valley. It is a very fine ritual site and would obviously have had much more to be said of it than just the heathen marriage rites which are left today. The forces of wind and rain scream from its height, and in the valley beneath the chime of the gentlest echoes resonate, giving an altogether different ‘spirit’ amidst the same land. Those old cherubs of ‘male’ and ‘female’ spirit commune potently here – no doubt being the ingredients which gave form to the marriage customs… Those of you into feng-shui (the real stuff, not the modern bollox) and genius loci should spend time with the water and rocks here and you’ll see what I mean. Archaeologists amongst you, if you dare, should amble aimlessly here for sometime…for many hours, a few times, and give yourselves a notion of the ‘ritual landscapes’ you like to write about from the safety of your textbooks, to get a bittova better notion of what ‘experiencing the land’ is actually about.
This rocky outcrop was also said to be the place that Emily Bronte used in her Wuthering Heights novel as the place called Penistone Crags. A couple of other local writers have also added this legendary place in their tales aswell.
Ponden Kirks ceremonial passage
Folklore
Alleged by Elizabeth Southwart (1923) “to be of druidical origin,” the first literary note of this great rock outcrop appears to come from the reverend James Whalley (1869) of Todmorden, who in his romantic amblings over the moorlands here, told that if any gentleman wants to get married,
“he must by all means pay a visit to Ponden Kirk… Here ‘they marry single ones!’ Any lady or gentleman who can successfully ‘go through one part of the rock’ (which is quite possible) is declared to all intents and purposes duly married according to the forms and ceremonies of Ponden Kirk.”
His wording here seems to imply that the event of passing through the rocky opening, is in itself a confirmation of the ceremony of marriage, not needing the blessing of some strange christian rites. If so, this tradition would be a very ancient one indeed, making the stone the witness to the marriage event. This would be a rite witnessed by the stones themselves: a universal heathen attribute found in most of the ancient traditional cultures. But this curious unwritten history was to be echoed a decade later by that great Yorkshire historian, J. Horsfall Turner (1879), who told us that,
“at Ponden Kirk, as at Ripon Minster, a curious wedding ceremony is frequently observed. It consists in dragging one’s-self through a crevice in the rock, the successful performance of which betokens a speedy nuptial… The place is now frequently called ‘Wuthering Heights. Apart from the association of such names as Crimlesworth and Oakden (see the Alcomden Stones), fancy easily ascribes a druidical settlement at the Kirk.”
A not unreasonable assumption – though nothing of this nature, of yet, has been found.
…and the view from the top!
That other great Yorkshire writer, Harry Speight — aka Johnnie Gray (1891) — echoed the same folklore telling how,
“The natives of these parts have a saying, ‘Let’s go to Ponden Kirk where they wed odd ‘uns,’ which has its origin in an old custom of passing through an enormous boulder… The belief is that if you pass through it, you will never die single. No one knows how the rock acquired its name, but the Saxon kirk suggests a temple of worship, possibly extending back to the druidical times.”
Ponden Kirk – by T. MacKenzie, c.1923
A few years later, Mr Whiteley Turner came here and he too affirmed the old wedding rites, also telling that “according to tradition, maidens (some say bachelors too) who successfully creep through the aperture will be married within the year.” This bit of info also shows that the rocks also had oracular properties – a function known at countless other sites.
The proximity of Robin’s Hood Well, just a couple of hundred yards away, beckons for association with the Ponden Kirk – which it obviously had… But that’s a tale to be told elsewhere…
Dead easy! Get to Ilkley train station and look across the road to your left, cross it and walk along. 100 yards on is Cowpasture Road. Walk up it! You’ll be at the rocks in 10-15 minutes.
Archaeology & History
Cow & Calf Rocks from above – thanks to Ian Hay’s superb ‘Yorkshire from the Air’
There’s nowt specifically archaeocentric directly relating to these great rocks — well, nowt that’s been found out about anyway! — though all around here over the last coupla centuries people have found numerous flints, and we have various examples of rock-art (cup-and-rings) carved on rocks close by. There have been attempts to verify what may be cup-marks on both the Cow and the Calf — with the old master, Harry Speight (1900) telling how there used to be remains of cups and lines on the rocks, but apart from some well-worn ‘cups’ on some of the edges, these seem hard to find. For worrits worth: if Speight said there were some carvings here, its more than likely true.
I think the main relationship ancient man would have had with this great rock outcrop would have been a ritual one: the rocks themselves had no need of human imprints: their size and nature would deem them of great spirit indeed, to anyone with an ounce of feeling. Not sure that’s the way most modern folk would see things – but that’s to be expected I s’ppose!
Folklore
These grand rocks once had the even greater Bull Rock as a close companion. It was on top of this, wrote Eric Lodge (1939:40), that,
“the only point in the immediate vicinity of Ilkley from which a view of York Minster was obtainable. ‘Tis some sixty years ago, however, that a local tradesman recognised its value in building stone, and despite strong protests, quarried it for the construction of the Crescent Hotel, situated at the corner of Brook Street and Leeds Road in Ilkley.”
The matter was described in the Leeds Mercury in 1899, thus:
“About the year 1850 an act of vandalism was perpetrated at Ilkley, which would have been impossible in these days, when the Ilkley Local Board watches with such a keen eye anything that may enhance the historical interest of this rapidly increasing watering-place.
“Below the two huge rocks known as ‘The Cow and Calf,’ which have attracted thousands of visitors and invalids on to the breezy heights whereon they stand, stood a rock larger than the Calf, which was known as the ‘Bull.’ It was much nearer the highway than the Calf…
“The ‘Bull’ rock had its name cut in large letters on the side that lay nearest the road, and it is much to be regretted that an unfortunate dispute between the owners of the free-hold and the lord of the manor, in which the former won the day, gave them the right to break up this noble rock and cart it away for building purposes. It is said that the Crescent Hotel was mainly built from this stone, so some idea may be formed of its vast size and proportions.”
Incredible – they’ve turned a gigantic sacred rock into a large hotel! (and I’ve never been in it) Let’s hope it’s haunted to buggery! Does anyone know any Fortean history about the place?
Another legend tells that one day the local giant, Rombald (who gave his name to these moors and lived up here, somewhere, with his even greater but unnamed wife), decided to meet a friend a few miles away to the east, at Almscliffe Crags. So in just one step he strode over the Wharfe valley right across to the legendary crags, but he slightly stumbled and in doing so, left he footprint embedded on the face of the Cow Rock, which can still be seen today.
In modern times, the Cow & Calf have been the centre for occasional UFO, or earthlight sightings. But this appears to go back a bit earlier than when such curious light-forms were thought of as visiting ETs; for good old Nicholas Size (1936) reported seeing burning lights and curious figures up here — but when he saw these lights they took the form of druids and pagan spirits. One wonders what they’ll morph into next!
Another silly-sounding directional pointer! Get to the now tourist-infested town of Killin (best in Winter, when the town is quiet and you get to know the locals a lot better) and travel through it as if you’re going to follow Loch Tay up its western side. As you’re going out of the village towards the Bridge of Lochay Hotel (an excellent place), you’ll see an amphitheatre of mountains in the background. The tallest of the hills on the left is where you’re heading. Go straight up the hillside and follow your nose!
Creag na Cailleach, Killin
The hill guards the entrance to the legendary Glen Lochay (Valley of the Black Goddess). There are many ways to climb her, but my first venture here took me up the waterfalls and steepish burn of Allt na Ceardaich. Once on the level, I found myself surrounded by that amphitheatre I mentioned, from which – on my first visit – I took up the sheer face of this great mountain. (to be honest it’s nowt special if you’re into mountaineering and stuff) From the tops you’ve got a damn good view all round. But respect this old hill, as danger awakens to idiots who would think themselves champions.
Folklore
Here, where axes were quarried by ancient man from beneath Her rocky slopes, this ‘Hill of the Old Woman’, or ‘Hag’, was one of the abodes of the primal Mother Goddess in olden times, so says her name. Her ‘dark’ aspect seemed manifest one time when I climbed her with a rather stupid man in tow. Following one of the streams back into the valley below, he thought it wise to copy my gazelle-nature as I sprang without thought, quickly, from rock to rock, bouncing at speed down the fast-flowing stream (which takes a lotta weird practice and very strong ankles!), in spite of the advice to do otherwise – and in doing so he broke his leg in three places and, to make it worse, had to spend the night there in complete agony!
Don’t tell me there’s no ‘dark’ goddess to some of these great places!
Axe production has been found to have occurred as early as 2500 BC. There have been numerous flint finds hereabouts aswell – but considering this is a mountain, you’d expect to find something on or about Her slopes!
I’ve just been back up here as the first good snow fell upon the hills and the white cover brought the elements out of her form in a way I’d not seen before. Tis a wonderful place the Creag na Cailleach; and, it seems, a site that played a now forgotten part in the ancient name of the glen, Lochay, which was the living abode of the Black Goddess in more archaic days. Twouldst be good to hear some of the authentic old stories from old locals that were once known of this ancient deity in the glens. If anyone knows of such tales, let us know before they are lost forever…
References:
Ritchie, P.R., ‘The Stone Implement Trade in Third Millenium Scotland,’ in Coles & Simpson’s, Studies in Ancient Europe, Leicester University Press 1968.
Acknowledgements: Huge thanks to Lindsay Campbell for her hospitality, food and roof hereby.
The best way to locate this is probably by starting from the pub opposite the old church of St. Leonard and heading west along the village road, past three large gate-entrances, until reaching the conspicuous milestone by the road junction. On the other side of the road, just before the gate entrance to Downham Hall, edged into the base of the wall, we find this ‘ere The Great Stone.
Archaeology & History
The Great Stone, Downham
What a truly beautiful little village we find in Downham, nestled quietly and with age at the northern edge of Pendle hill. It’s tucked away, off any main road so maintaining its sense of age and almost reclusive nature. There is hidden history a-plenty scattering the landscape here, but tales of our Great Stone — thought by some as an old monolith; remains of a Roman milestone by others; whilst some just denote it as nowt but a small stone — is what brought me here. It’s name betrayed my expectation (I always hope for too much it seems…), but the small pock-marked stone has been embedded in its present position for at least 150 years, as the growth of soil and tree behind it shows. Archaeo-historians say little of it (reputations y’ know!) until something substantial is found; but thankfully we came upon the lovely couple who are Lord and Lady Clitheroe of Downham Hall, who told us more…
Folklore
“There are a couple of humourous legends told of the Great Stone,” Lord Downham began… But to a (sometimes) courteous megalithomaniac like myself, the tales rang the all-too-familiar bell.
Close-up of the Great Stone
The original position of the stone, though not known for certain, was some short distance away either across the road, or further along in a nearby field. When it was moved – Lord Downham said around 1830 – the remains of a body were found beneath it; but another source told in fact that it marked “the final resting place of two legionaries who died on the nearby Roman road during trouble with the Brigantes.” (An old Roman road is nearby) But apparently this old stone also moves. When the church bell strikes midnight the stone is said to turn itself around upside-down. Where have we heard that before!?
The site is described in Clifford Byrne’s (1974) unpublished manuscript on the crosses of Lancashire, where he cites it as being the remains of a cross pedestal, but adds that “if ever a cross stood by the village green, no memory of seems now to exist.” But Mr Byrne also described the all-too-familiar heathen folk tales, saying:
“A local man told the writer that the object is called Downham Stone and that it turns over every night at midnight. We read elsewhere that the boulder is called “the great stone of Downham” and that it turns at the stroke of midnight by the church clock.”
References:
Byrne, Clifford H., “A Survey of the Ancient Wayside Crosses in North East Lancashire,” unpublished manuscript, 1974.
Lofthouse, Jessica, Three Rivers, Robert Hale: London 1946.
Lofthouse, North Country Folklore, Robert Hale: London 1976.
Winterbottom, Vera, The Devil in Lancashire, Cloister: Stockport 1963.
Simon’s Seat in the centre & the Lord’s Seat immediately east
Tons of ways here. To those who drive, take the Grassington-Pateley Bridge (B6265) road and a couple of miles past the village of Hebden, you’ll see the high rocks climbing on your southern horizon, with another group of rocks a few hundred yards along the same ridge. That’s it!
Archaeology & History
This is an awesome site, full of raw power. It commands a brilliant view all round, but it is the north which truly draws the eye’s attention. Beneath the great drop of this huge outcrop is the haunted and legendary Troller’s Ghyll. The scent of as yet undisclosed neolithic and Bronze Age sites purrs from the moors all round you and there can be little doubt that this was a place of important magick in ancient days.
What seems to be several cup-markings on one of the topmost rocks are, to me, authentic. Harry Speight mentioned them in his 1892 work on the Craven and Northwest Yorkshire Highlands – but there are a number of other rocks in this giant outcrop with “possibles” on them.
Folklore
The name of this great rock outcrop has long been a puzzle to historians and place-name experts. One tale that was told of Simon’s Seat to the travelling pen of one Frederic Montagu in 1838, told that,
“It was upon the top of this mountain that an infant was found by a shepherd, who took it to his home, and after feeding and clothing it, he had the child named Simon; being himself but a poor man, he was unable to maintain the foundling, when it was ultimately agreed to by the shepherds, that the child should be kept “amang ’em.” The child was called Simon Amangham and the descendants of this child are now living in Wharfedale.”
The usually sober pen of Mr Speight thinks this to have been one the high places of druidic worship, named after the legendary Simon Druid. “It is however, hardly likely,” he wrote, “that he ever sat there himself, but was probably represented by some druidical soothsayer on whom his mystic gifts descended.”
I’ve gotta say, I think there’s something distinctly true about those lines. Visit this place a few times, alone, during the week, or at night – when there’s no tourists about – and tell me it isn’t…
References:
Bogg, Edmund, Higher Wharfeland, James Miles: Leeds 1904.
Montagu, Frederic, Gleanings in Craven, Simpkin Marshall: London 1838.
Speight, Harry, The Craven and Northwest Yorkshire Highlands, Elliott Stock: London 1892.
