Follow the same directions to reach the nearby Wondjina Stone, but as you reach the trig-point at the top of Rivock Edge, note the smooth rounded boulder 50 yards ESE. That’s it!
Archaeology & History
Named after the sea of cotton grasses, or niplets (Eriophorum angustifolium), amidst which it lives for several weeks of the year, the cups-marks that make up this design can be terribly difficult to work out even in the best of lighting. We have here a lichen-encrusted stone with perhaps as many as 25 cup-marks scattering, mainly, the top and westerly sloping face. Although some of the cups are quite noticeable, the vegetative growth and simple erosion has made an accurate visual impression of the original carving very difficult — as the images plainly tell! If I ever manage to capture the stone resting in a good mood, I’ll replace the photos I’ve got here!
Niplet Stone, looking SEBeautiful fusion of faded cups, lichen & great age…
Although I remember coming here and seeing this and the nearby carvings when I was a teenager, then a few years later on with Edna Whelan and Graeme Chappell, it seems that the first literary note of this carving after my own initial exploration was in the Ilkley Archaeology Group’s survey (Hedges 1986), where they make note of a flint that was found beside the stone. Boughey and Vickerman (2003) later include the same stone in their work, but with no additional information.
References:
Bennett, Paul, “The Prehistoric Rock Art and Megalithic Remains of Rivock & District (parts 1 & 2),” in Earth, 3-4, 1986.
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS 2003.
Hedges, John (ed.), The Carved Rocks on Rombald’s Moor, WYMCC: Wakefield 1986.
A wonderful site, though a bittova walk for city-minded folk. Head up the road from Riddlesden, Keighley, towards the southern edge of Rombalds Moor and keep going till you reach the road which surrounds the moor (called Silsden Road). At the T-junction in front of you is a path which takes you onto the fields and moor. Go over the stile and walk straight up the steepish field that follows the straight line of the forest, all the way to the top. Climb over the wall on your left when you reach the top of the tree-line, walk past the triangulation pillar for 100 yards or so till you hit the end of the walling before it drops back into the trees. The carving’s under your nose!
Archaeology & History
Rivock Edge’s ‘Wondjina’ carving
The name of this carving is based on a first impression I got of it when I came here as a young lad, still in my teens. The ‘Wondjina’ is a name given to primal aboriginal spirits whose images are etched and painted on rock surfaces in various parts of Australia (usually rock overhangs or in caves). Don’t ask me why, but that was the impression I first got of this stone — and it’s something that stays with me. Some archaeo’s won’t like the association such mythic ancestral beings may have upon people’s notions of cup-and-ring art, but they tend to be the ones who have little educational background regarding the animistic nature of rocks in traditional and peasant societies: ingredients that are integral to these ancient carvings, as research worldwide clearly shows.
The carving was first described by our old Yorkshire historian Arthur Raistrick (1936) in an early essay on Yorkshire rock carvings; and then again in a later article by Stuart Feather. (1961) The primary design is of a large single cup-and-ring at one end of the rock, with a series of seemingly unbroken lines reaching up (or perhaps moving away) from the cup-and-ring. A long central line runs through the middle of the Wondjina ‘being’, which initially seems to have been a series of cups linked by this line; though these cups (at least four of them) have eroded over time and are difficult to see without good sunlight. What seem to be several other very eroded cup-marks are also found on two of the other long lines. These can be made out in the photograph here.
Close-up of lines & cup-marks
Another carving is on the stone right next to this one (2ft away) and there are several other cup-marked stones to be found along the same ridge (carving numbers 058, 059, 060, etc). And for those of you into landscape archaeology, take the position of this carving into consideration. The view from here is quite superb and on clear days a number of prominent hills and important mythological landscape features stand out. To those of you who think such things unimportant or of little relevance in the mythography of our ancestors — you’ve a lot to learn! Otherwise, a visit to this carving and its associates is well worth a trek!
References:
Bennett, Paul, ‘The Prehistoric Rock Art and Megalithic Remains of Rivock & District (2 parts),’ in Earth, 3-4, 1986.
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS 2003.
Feather, Stuart, ‘Mid-Wharfedale Cup-and-Ring Markings: Nos. 7 & 8, Rivock Edge,’ in Cartwright Hall Archaeology Group Bulletin, 6:8, 1961.
Hedges, John (ed.), The Carved Rocks on Rombald’s Moor, WYMCC: Wakefield 1986.
Raistrick, Arthur, “‘Cup-and-Ring’ Marked Rocks of West Yorkshire,’ in Yorkshire Archaeology Journal, 32, 1936.
From East Riddlesden, go up the road (over the swing-bridge) that takes you onto the moor-edge (ask a local if you have trouble). Go all the way up till you hit the road which encircles the moor (it’s called the Silsden Road where you hit it). Turn left for several hundred yards till you see the microwave tower just on the hillock to your right on Pinfold Hill (not the larger TV towers just below the forest). Walk up there, then follow the edge of the walling till you hit the old Pinus sylvestris trees of Robin Hood’s Wood where 2 walls meet. Go over the gate and walk to your right for about 200 yards, following the line of the walling. You’re there!
Archaeology & History
Cluster of cups on western edge
A newly-discovered cup-marked stone, located for the first time on Tuesday, June 9, 2009, by Michala Potts, who was out on an amble with some long-haired halfwit whizzing about getting excited about stupid cup-markings on stones, dragging her back and forth and leaving her in the middle of a bog! On one occasion when this ‘ere fruitbat wandered off (again!), leaving her alone in the middle of the hills, she decided to check out some rocks a bit further up the slope where she’d been left alone. And there, along the edge of some walling, right on the edge of the much-denuded Robin Hood’s Wood, a short distance west of Rivock, a curious stone popped out and caught her attention!
Was this a cup-marking she saw before her!? It certainly was! But she didn’t call out to this halfwit who’d left her to her own devices. She let him just wander off to his sad heart’s content, whilst she got into the nitty-gritty of checking the stone out, uncovering the essentials of the carving while he bimbled off like a freak! And what a nice carving it was she found…
Baldwin Stone – looking westFirst sketch of the stone
Although no accurate measurements were made of the stone (it was bigger than 10-inch!), at least 17 cup-markings were counted here: one singular and very well-preserved cup, alone on its southern edge, right by the walling. But the main feature of the design is a cluster of cup-marks (at least 11) on the western side of the rock — one part of this cluster having the appearance of the figure 5 on a dice! Several other well-defined cups occur on the central and more northern end of the rock.
Eventually, her sad stone-wandering fella returned, forlorn, having found no new carvings of his own (poor soul!). And so she took his poor little hand, and took him to see the little prehistoric treasure she’s uncovered — and her sad little man got all smiley and … well, you know what they’re like!
Additionally however, for the archaeo’s amongst you: if you come wandering up here to check this carving out, you’ll notice the remains of many large upright stones in a lot of the old stone walls round here. Many of these are the remains of Iron Age walling.
From Bingley, take the B6429 road up to Harden. After going up the wooded winding road for a few hundred yards, stop where it levels out. Cross onto the right-hand side of the road and walk up the slope a little, veering to your right. You’ll notice a small disused building just off the roadside, in overgrowth, with a pool of water. You need to be about 100 yards up the slope above it!
Archaeology & History
Elm Crag Well, Bell Bank Wood, Bingley
This is a beautiful old place. If you walk straight up to it from the roadside, past the derelict building, you have to struggle through the brambles and prickly slope like we did – but it’s worth it if you like your wells! However, if you try getting here in the summertime, expect to be attacked on all sides by the indigenous flora! The waters here emerge from a low dark cave, in which, a century of three ago, someone placed a large stone trough. When I first came here about 25 years ago, some halfwits had built an ugly red-brick wall into the cave which, thankfully, someone has had the sense to destroy and rip-out.
Shown on the 1852 Ordnance Survey map and highlighted as a ‘spring,’ Harry Speight (1898) gives a brief mention to this site, though refers us to an even earlier literary source when it was first mentioned. In John Richardson’s 18th century survey of the Craven area, he makes reference to an exceedingly rare fern, Trichomanes radicans, which was later included in Bolton’s classic monograph on British ferns of 1785. In it, Bolton wrote that the very first specimen of this plant was “first discovered by Dr. Richardson in a little dark cavern, under a dripping rock, below the spring of Elm Crag Well, in Bell Bank.”
Elm Crag Well
The waters from here come from two sides inside the small cave and no longer run into the lichen-encrusted trough, seemingly just dropping down to Earth and re-emerging halfway down the hillside. But the waters here taste absolutely gorgeous and are very refreshing indeed! And the old elms which gave this old well its name can still be seen, only just hanging on to the rocks above and to the side, with not much time left for the dear things.
References:
Bolton, James, Filices Britannicae: An History of the British Proper Ferns, Thomas Wright 1785.
Speight, Harry, Chronicles and Stories of Old Bingley, Elliott Stock: London 1898.
One of two ways to get here really. Easiest is from Sutton-in-Craven. Go thru the village and up the steep hill (don’t take the right turn as you start up the hill). Go all the way up until the hill starts to level out and on the left-side of the road you’ll notice a boundary stone stood upright (this is the Sutton Stoop). Stop here. Of the 2 gates, climb over the top-most one and walk down the path into the adjacent field, heading over to the gap a coupla hundred yards away where the gate to another field is. That’s it!
Archaeology & History
Stinking Stone, Steeton
Now here’s a weird one. With a name like this you’d expect there to be plenty of info or historical comments. But despite all the books and journals in my huge library, aswell as visiting town libraries and exploring the resources on-line, there’s nowt written about this ‘ere spot. Not a jot! Even the usually satisfactory place-name fellas have a thing-or-two to say about sites with names such as this—but even their old tomes are closed-lipped. Hmmmmm…..
I visited the place several times to try ascertain what this site was, thinking — perhaps — that it was an old boundary stone whose name had been convoluted from some older, more obvious title.* The nearby Sutton Stoop boundary stone, right by the roadside, seemed a good indicator to such an assumption, as it was a recognised boundary marker with written history and a meeting point along the local perambulation. But the curiously-named Stinking Stone was neither on the same line, nor ever had been according to old records, and couldn’t be located either. There had been obvious quarrying and other industrial destruction along the hilltop where the old stone was marked and it seemed logical to assume that it had been destroyed in bygone years by that usual breed of capitalist industrial halfwits. Until a psilocybin venture one afternoon, last season…
Twas a lovely sunny day, though windy on the tops as usual. I was out with a couple of neophytes showing them Psilocybes and various other species, chewing them here and there and talking the way of healthy usage. We passed by an old well, long forgotten, before heading onto Stinking Stone Hill. Bimbling somewhat, and ruminating about the moss of colour, we decided to sit by the walling in-field and dream for a short while. As we hit the old gate the Stinking Stone came up right before us. Literally!
There in the old walling, blunt as you like, stood this four-and-a-half-foot tall standing stone, smoothed on one side by a short aeon of weathering, upright and proud as if it had been stood there for centuries, awaiting attention! I exclaimed a few triumphant expletives; rubbed myself here and there over the old thing, then sat for a while behind the wind with the old upright, solidly embedded in old earth — then awaited the dream…
Twas a good day…
And then I returned home and later sought what I could on a possible etymology. Around the hilltop a hundred yards away were small depressions and the faded remains of industrial workings, like I said; and with this in mind the awesome Mr Wright (1905) told us about the existence of ‘Stinking coals’, “an inferior kind of coal” no less. Referring us to a work from 1818, we’re told,
“The Stinking-coal is noted for containing a great proportion of sulphuret of iron, thick seams or layers of these pyrites running in it. In consequence of this it cannot be used for smelting purposes.”
Another account from 1868 telling us that:
“On opening the body, it contains a strong sulphureous smell, characteristic of the disease; hence it is called the stinking ill; and the stomach and bowels are prodigiously distended with air, having the same intolerable foetor.”
Worn metal scratches, made when dragged here?
This old worn gatepost however, perhaps has a history that only goes back a few centuries. It has been cleaved in half, as you’ll see if you visit it; but its western face is old and worn and it’s been embedded in the ground for a long time. On its northern face are the curious etchings of carvings, which are more akin to wounds from some past offence (perhaps when it was split in half), cleaved by metal toolings and dragged by farmers to be fixed in into present spot. It’s history may not be truly ancient. Twouldst be good to know for sure though…
References:
Wright, Joseph, The English Dialect Dictionary – volume 5, Henry Frowde: Oxford 1905.
* ‘Stinking’, stone-king or King Stone? Unlikely though…
From Carlton, take the western Hirst Road to Temple Hirst village, then turn right once you’re in the village and go up Common Lane up for about a mile. There’s a footpath on your left leading you to the Fair Oaks farmhouse. This was the spot!
Archaeology & History
This is fascinating sounding place which marked the central point of three old township boundaries nearly 1000 years ago. I first found it mentioned in Morrell’s History and Antiquities of Selby (1867: 36-7), where this once famous tree is described in land sale transactions. Morrell told:
“At Carlton the (Selby) abbey had considerable property, which was sold to the neighbouring priory of Drax. The boundary of the property sold was a certain oak tree, called Fair-haia, in Burn Wood, which Adam de Bellaqua gave for this purpose, binding himself and his heirs never to cut it down or root it up, sub poena anathematis.”
But we found a more detailed outline in Dugdale’s Selby Abbey in Yorkshire, where the premises and townships given to Selby Abbey in the 12th and 13th centuries are listed. In the township of ‘Carleton’ (as it was then spelt) Dugdale wrote:
“Peter de Brus gave the grange here, which the monks had held of Agnes, late wife of Ranulph FitzSwain. Richard abbat of Selby granted to Robert prior of Drax all the tithe from the north part of the oak called Fair-haia, in the wood of Birne, or Berlay, through the middle of the marsh to Hundolfsweith; and from thence by the strait ditch directly to Espholm, and all the tithe from Espholme to Appletreholme, as the ditch goes to the new fosse or ditch of Carleton: and the prior granted to the abbat all the tithes on the south to the new ditch, and from thence to the river Ayre. And Adam de Bellaqua gave this oak tree, called Fair-haia, as a boundary, never to be cut down (ad standum in perpetuum et non rescindendum), binding himself and his successors never to cut it down or root it up.”
One wonders: are there any remains left of this once great tree? Has anyone actually transgressed and uprooted it in times past? Is any other lore known of it? And who was Adam de Bellaqua?
One of the most intriguing elements to this site is its name, for the word ‘haia’ literally means ‘god of the land’ — but whether we can take this meaning seriously is questionable, as it’s of Sumerian origin. However, no local dialect words throw any light on the word and it may aswell be the name of the spirit of the tree as anything else. Does anyone know owt more about this place?
Dead easy this one! Go along North Street in Keighley, towards the main church in the middle of town (a St. Andrew’s church, previously St. Pete), by the once-infamous Lord Rodney pub, and the old stone edifice stands outside by the Green. The much better Red Pig public house is across the road from here.
Archaeology & History
Keighley’s Town Cross, 1847 – on a painting by Edwin Riby
For a relatively trivial archaeological site, it’s got a bittova history. Not that this is an old site either! We’re not sure just when this cross was made, but it’s certainly no more than 300 years old. Before standing in its present position outside St. Andrew’s Church, sometime before 1840 it was said to have been a few hundred yards away above the present roundabout on Oakworth Road; and one record tells that it originally came from nearby Utley, a mile to the north. Due to lack of decent records, we’re not sure about its early status as a market cross, nor when it was first erected. Indeed, even the steps on which the cross presently stands are clearly more recent than the ones illustrated on Edwin Riby’s 1847 portrait, reproduced here.
Keighley Cross, on a grey wet day!
It would be good to get a complete history of this archaeological relic but it’s difficult with artifacts such as these; and although gaining access to the church now takes less time and effort than it used to (the vicar here used to be quite unhelpful, but has recently changed his ways – which is good!), it’s only open at certain times of the week.* Friday afternoons seem OK to have a look round. Please – if folk begin having trouble gaining access to the Church once more, let us know on here so we can make complaints about it. The Church is paid for by local tax-payer’s cash, and so needs to be open to all of us. Let’s hope this humble ingredient can be maintained for the good of all in this otherwise regressive social community (Keighley, that is…).
There’s also some very curious folklore to be added here in relation to the market and its cross, but its tale is gonna have to wait…
References:
Gray, Johnnie, Through Airedale, from Goole to Malham, Elliott Stock: London 1891.
Keighley, William, Keighley, Past and Present, R. Aked: Keighley 1858.
* There isn’t even a notice giving information, email or phone numbers, telling you who you can contact if you want to know anything about the history of the church, or visit it — which is quite dreadful considering how much money they get paid by tax-payers for their supposed socio-spiritual duties.
Go to the Cliffe Castle Museum on the outskirts of Keighley town centre (dead easy to find with car park to rear) and explore the museum! You’ll find it eventually!
Archaeology & History
Comet Stone, Cliffe Castle Museum, Keighley
This lovely-looking carving has been on a bit of walkabout over the last hundred years or so! We’re not quite sure exactly where it first lived, but old records tell that it was found upon the Grubstones Ridge, which is a small section of the moor around and/or between the Great Skirtful of Stones giant cairn and the curious Roms Law, or Grubstones Circle, both on the very tops of Burley Moor (most folk call think of it as just another section of Ilkley Moor). Here it lived (approx grid reference SE 138 446) for several thousand years until, many centuries later, in the mid-19th century, one of them there christian chaps came along – y’ know the sorts. He was the reverend J.A. Busfield and came to live upon the heathen edge of our Rombald’s Moor at a great house called Upwood. Like many of these weird people, he took a bit of a shine to our ancient relics and, amidst one of his sojourns to the Grubstones one day, came upon this multiple-ringed stone lying amidst the heather, close to the old circle of Roms Law. Liking it so much, he thought he’d have it as an ornament in the grounds of his hall at Upwood, on the southern edges of the moor overlooking Riddlesden and Keighley — and there it stayed, living quite comfortably, until 1925.
It then spent nearly fifty years living enclosed in the huge abode of Keighley Museum until, in 1971, it was presented by a certain Mr. R.W. Robinson of the same establishment, to Keighley Council, who thought in their weird ways to lean “it against a pile of rocks on the pavement of Bow Street, near Keighley Bus Station, with a small plaque,” telling of its tale and of other cup-and-rings nearby. And there it stayed until more recent years, when it was returned back to the Cliffe Castle Museum – safe, quiet and looked after each night!
Drawing of the carvingCowling’s early drawing
It’s a lovely, almost archetypal carving: a simple cup surrounded by four complete rings, with a ‘tail’ coming off the edge, similar to the image of a comet flying through the skies – which is, perhaps, what this carving represented. Of course, it could have been something completely different!
The region where this stone was located was an important area for the dead in ancient times – a motif that’s common to many cup-and-rings – and it seems probable that the stone itself was once part of a tomb, though we seem to have no record substantiating this. The carving was highlighted by William Cudworth as being in Upwood on a map dated 1847-51. The next description of it was by Arthur Raistrick in 1936. John Hedges (1986) listed it as stone-216 in his survey; then Boughey & Vickerman (2003) re-list it as stone 351.
NOTE – Don’t confuse this carving with another that is held in the same museum here, the Cliffe Castle or Baildon Moor 144 carving. Well worth having a look at!
References:
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS: Leeds 2003.
Cowling, Eric T., Rombald’s Way, Otley 1946.
Hedges, John, The Carved Rocks on Rombald’s Moor, WYMCC: Wakefield 1986.
Raistrick, Arthur, ‘Cup-and-Ring Marked Rocks of West Yorkshire,’ in YAJ, 1936.
Healing Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SE 0479 4179
Archaeology & History
The Whin Knoll Well, once found bursting into life at the top of Black Hill, Keighley, got its name from the old word ‘whin,’ or gorse bushes (Ulex Europaeus)—also known in Yorkshire as the ‘Spindly Killer Bush’: a most apt title! These great spindly killer shrubs once profused where the waters of this old well used to bubble into view – indeed, there are still quite a few great old spindlies still scattered here and there!
The site was shown on old maps as being just two fields east of the more renowned Jennet’s Well, but this old public water supply that once fed the local people, was covered by a reservoir many moons ago. However, a wander up here recently found the reservoir empty, but a water supply was still bubbling out of the ground into the great concrete hollow. The last remnants of the Whin Knoll Well perhaps…?
Pretty easy really. From the town centre, head up the B6143 Oakworth Road for barely 100 yards then turn right up the long steep West Lane. Just keep going. Near the very top turn sharp right onto Shann Lane. And there, on the left-hand side of the road, right next to the solitary old-looking house just 100 yards along, is our little well! (if you end up with fields either side of you, breaking into hills, you’ve gone too far)
Archaeology & History
Jennet’s Well, Black Hill, Keighley (middle of the picture, next to house)
The history of this site is very scant. It was written about by local historian William Keighley (1858) as a holy well dedicated to an obscure saint, St. Jennet, although early place-name evidences don’t tell as much. Some have even suggested that the same ‘Jennet’ was the tutelary saint of Keighley and district itself. Local historian Ian Dewhirst (1974), writing about the town’s local water supply, thought that “water from a spring ‘a mile to the west’ above the town…was conveyed by stone troughs through the chief street for the convenience of house-holders,” was probably Jennet’s Well.
Folklore
Described by Will Keighley (1858) as having “great healing abilities,” its specifics were undefined. And when the great Yorkshire writer Harry Speight (1898) came here forty years later, he told of the site “having a great repute, though no one seems to know why.” Mr Keighley was of the opinion that Jennet’s Well may have been the christianized site which overcame the local people’s earlier preference of dedication at the True Well, more than a mile west of here, between the gorgeous hamlets of Newsholme and Goose Eye; but this would seem unlikely, if only by distance alone.
The name ‘Jennet’ itself initially seemed somewhat obscure. It is not recognised by the Catholic Church as a patron saint. The word could be a corruption of the personal name Jenny, perhaps being the name of a lady who once lived hereby. There’s also the possibility that the title may infer the well’s dedication to the bird – a not uncommon practice. And we also have the modern folklorists who could ascribe it to the fairy-folk, as Jennet and Jenny are common fairy names, and old wells have much lore linking the two. But as Michala Potts pointed out, bringing us back to Earth once again, a ‘jennet’ is an old dialect word for a mule. I rushed for my Yorkshire dialect works and, just as Mikki said, the old writer John Wilkinson (1924) told simply, ‘Jennet – a mule.’
References:
Dewhirst, Ian, A History of Keighley, Keighley Corporation 1974.
Keighley, William, Keighley, Past and Present, Arthur Hall: Keighley 1858.
Speight, Harry, Chronicles and Stories of Bingleyand District, Elliott Stock: London 1898.
Wilkinson, John H., Leeds Dialect Glossary and Lore, James Miles: Leeds 1924.
