earth mysteries

St. John’s Well, Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire

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Holy Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SP 9848 0822

Also Known as:

St. James’ Well

Archaeology & History

Shown on the early Ordnance Survey maps of the town, Berkhamsted’s holy well was a place of some renown in bygone centuries. Today it is barely remembered. It was initially dedicated to St. James, as it was associated with a chapel dedicated to that saint close by, but it had a change of name when the legendary Brotherhood of St. John the Baptist became the new caretakers, so to speak. As a result of this, its history can be a little confusing to some folk!

In the late 12th century, pagan worship at this site came to the attention of Hugh of Grenoble, the Bishop of Lincoln, who visited the place to stop local folk performing their animistic practices (although the exact nature of such rites were not described, sadly). It didn’t work, obviously; as once the bonkers bishop had gone, local folk would have continued in their old ways, no doubt wondering who the hell the odd incomer had been who was telling them to stop doing what they had always done here at the cost of no one. And so the waters continued to be used under the mythic cover of old St James—for the time being at least.

The well later became a centre of pilgrimage and and a hospital was been built close by dedicated to St James, where leprosy was treated and the curative waters from this well were used. St James’ Day was July 25 and an annual fair was held in Berkhamsted thanks to a Royal Charter of James I in 1619. Hertfordshire traditions relating to St James Day are described in Miss Jones-Baker’s (1974) fine survey on the customs of the county. But change was a-coming when a local monk had a dream that the waters of this “pagan spring” needed to be blessed and dedicated to the virtues of St. John the Evangelist and a shrine built where pilgrims could worship and be healed. And as Jones-Baker (1977) told us,

“The water of St John’s Well were thought to cure a variety of diseases; among these leprosy and scrofula (the King’s Evil) as well as sore eyes. There was also a persistent belief that clothing washed in its waters would impart good health to the wearers.”

In the period when the Protestant Reformation occurred, the well and its immediate surrounds apparently became derelict and overgrown. The Old Ways returned and local folk began to visit the waters again at night and the animistic rituals that would have been taken to other secret places returned to St. John’s Well. In this period a local physician, a Dr. Woodhouse, used the sacred waters as part of magickal rites to exorcise evil spirits!

In spite of the local authorities declaring in 1865 that the water was “unfit for drinking”, local folk later told otherwise. Its waters were still being used in the 20th century and its traditions no doubt retained. As the local writer Dora Fry (1954) told us:

“The families dwelling in the cottages at the Bulbourne end of the lane, just below St John’s Spring, were all remarkably healthy… Some time after the town got its first waterworks (and) the local authorities declared that the well’s water was to be used only for the gardens… but I remember as a child drinking the water from the main spring and its coolness and freshness were delectable on a hot summer afternoon.”

The well was still visible up until the 1930s, when its waters ran down a shallow channel along St John Well’s Lane, but then a shop was built above the site and the well has been lost forever.

References:

Bord, Janet & Colin, Sacred Waters, Granada: London 1985.
Chauncy, Henry, The Historical Antiquities of Hertfordshire – volume 2, J.M. Mullinger: Bishops Stortford 1826.
Cobb, John W., Two Lectures on the History and Antiquities of Berkhamsted, Nichols & Son: London 1883.
Fry, Dora, “St. John’s Well,” in Hertfordshire Countryside, volume 8, 1954.
Harte, Jeremy, English Holy Wells – volume 2, Heart of Albion press: Wymeswold 2008.
Jones-Baker, Doris, Old Hertfordshire Calendar, Phillimore: London 1974.
Jones-Baker, Doris, The Folklore of Hertfordshire, B.T. Batsford: London 1977.
Page, William (ed.), Victoria History of the County of Hertford – volume 2, Archibald Constable: London 1908.
Salmon, N., The History of Hertfordshire; Describing the County and its Monuments, London 1728.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.

Cross Oak, Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire

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Sacred Tree: OS Grid Reference – SP 964 079

Archaeology & History

Location of the Cross Oak, shown on 1883 OS-map

About mile south of Northchurch, on the far side of the A41 dual carriageway, somewhere past the old crossroads (or perhaps even at the crossing) an ancient tree lived—and truly lived in the minds of local people, for perhaps a thousand years or so. Mentioned in the Lay Subsidy Rolls in 1307, the Cross Oak gave its name to the old building that once stood in the trees and the hill itself, at the place now known as Oak Corner. Whether or not a “cross” of any form was set up by this old oak, records are silent on the matter. Its heathen ways however, were pretty renowned! (a plaque should be mounted here)

Folklore

The first reference I’ve found of this place is in William Black’s (1883) folklore survey where he told that “certain oak trees at Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, were long famous for the cure of ague”—ague being an intense fever or even malaria. But a few years later when the local historian Henry Nash (1890) wrote about this place, he told that there was only one tree that was renowned for such curative traditions, that being the Cross Oak. He gave us the longest account of the place, coming from the old tongues who knew of it when they were young—and it had it’s very own ritual which, if abided by, would cure a person of their malady. “The legend ran thus”, wrote Mr Nash:

“Any one suffering from this disease was to proceed, with the assistance of a friend, to the old oak tree, known as Cross Oak, then to bore a small hole in the said tree, gather up a lock of the patient’s hair and make it fast in the hole with a peg, the patient then to tear himself from the tree, leaving the lock behind, and the disease was to disappear.

“This process was found to be rather a trying one for a weak patient, and by some authority unknown the practice was considerably modified. It was found to be equally efficacious to remove a lock of hair by gentle means, and convey it to the tree and peg it in securely, and with the necessary amount of faith the result was generally satisfactory. This is no mere fiction, as the old tree with its innumerable peg-holes was able to testify. This celebrated tree, like many other celebrities, has vanished, and another occupies its place, but whether it possesses the same healing virtues as its predecessor is doubtful. It is however a curious coincidence, that the bane and the antidote have passed away together.”

The lore of this magickal tree even found its way into one of J.G. Frazer’s (1933) volumes of The Golden Bough, where he told how the “transference of the malady to the tree was simple but painful.”

Traditions such as this are found in many aboriginal cultures from different parts of the world, where the spirit of the tree (or stone, or well…) will take on the illness of the person for an offering from the afflicted person: basic sympathetic magick, as it’s known. Our Earth is alive!

References:

Black, William G., Folk Medicine, Folk-lore Society: London 1883.
Frazer, James G., The Scapegoat, MacMillan: London 1933.
Jones-Baker, Doris, The Folklore of Hertfordshire, B.T. Batsford: London 1977.
Nash, Henry, Reminiscences of Berkhamsted, W. Cooper & Nephews: Berkhamsted 1890.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.

One Barrow, St. Austell, Cornwall

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Tumulus (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SX 0309 5227

Archaeology & History

More than two hundred years ago, an impressive prehistoric burial mound lived in an area that used to be known as Gwallon Down, not far from the impressive Long Stone monolith, about half-a-mile west of Charlestown on the southern edges of St. Austell, but it was completely destroyed in 1801. Thankfully there was a lengthy account made of the site in John Whitaker’s (1804) huge work, but there seems to be little else known of it. He told us:

“In the middle of that extended waste, the downs of St. Austle, was, what was called One Barrow. This waste, in 1801, was resolved to be enclosed, and the barrow was obliged to be levelled. In this operation, the single workman came near the centre, and there found a variety of stones, all slates, ranged erect in an enclosure nearly square. The stones were about one foot-and-a-half in height, apparently fixed in the ground before the formation of the barrow. The stones were all undressed, but had little stones carefully placed in the crevices at the joints of the large, in order to preclude all communication between the rubbish without and the contents within. On the even heads of these stones was laid a square freestone, which had evidently been hewn into this form, which seemed to rest with its extremities on the edges of the others, and was about eighteen or twenty inches in diameter. The summit of the barrow rose about eight or ten feet above all. In the enclosure, the leveller found a dust, remarkably fine, and seemingly inclining to clay. On the surface it was brown, about the middle downwards it took a dark chestnut colour, and at the bottom it approached towards a black. On stirring it up, a multitude of bones appeared, different in the sizes, but none exceeding six or seven inches in length. Among them were some pieces about the largeness of a half-crown, which, from their concave form, convinced him they were parts of a skull. The whole mass of bones and ashes might (he thought) be about one gallon in quantity. On touching the bones, they instantly crumbled into dust, and took the same colour with the same fineness as the dust in which they were found. They were exceedingly white when they were first discovered, but remarkably brittle; the effect assuredly of their calcination in a fire, antecedent to their burial. Much in fineness and in colour with these ashes, appeared several veins of irregular earth on the outside of the enclosure; which, from their position without, yet adjoining, and from the space occupied by them there, he conjectured to have been bodies laid promiscuously upon the funeral pile, but which I conjecture to have been only the ashes adhering to the ground, and not possible to be separated from it, for a burial with the rest within the enclosure. They had nothing of sand in them, but seemed inclining to clay, and even more so (from the adhering soil probably) than the dust of the enclosure. And, as the workman was fully convinced of what every one else must acknowledge, that the ashes and the bones of the enclosure had once belonged to a human body, he very properly took up the whole with care, placed the stones nearly in their original posture within an hedge contiguous, then in building, placed also the bones with the ashes within their original enclosure there, and even placed the covering-stone over both.”

One wonders whereabouts the hedgerow happened to be where the stones were placed, “nearly in their original posture” and if this reconstruction was ever recovered.

The site was subsequently mentioned in Polwhele’s (1816) massive survey, reiterating Whitaker’s description, simply telling how:

“With respect to the monumental remains in the neighbourhood of St Austel, a very ingenious correspondent says in one of the mounds of earth on our downs which was lately levelled a kind of urn was discovered which evidently contained human ashes many of the bones were entire but appear to have been calcined I am well acquainted with the man who dug this up.”

https://www.heritagegateway.org.uk/Gateway/Results_Single.aspx?uid=MCO2434&resourceID=1020

References:

Borlase, William Copeland, Nænia Cornubiæ, Longmans Green Reader: Truro 1872.
Hammond, Joseph, A Cornish Parish: Being an Account of St. Austell, Skeffington & Sons: London 1897.
Polwhele, Richard, The History of Cornwall – volume 2, Law & Whittaker: Truro 1816.
Whitaker, John, The Ancient Cathedral of Cornwall – volume 2, John Stockdale: London 1804.

Crowan Cross, Kerrier, Cornwall

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Cross (remains): OS Grid Reference – SW 6456 3449

Getting Here

Nice ‘n easy: get into the village and walk through the church gates and there, on your left on the grass verge, a plinth and the cross-head sits before thee!

Archaeology & History

When the great Arthur Langdon (1896) wrote about Crowan’s cross-head, he was puzzled. At the time it was in the garden of a local surveyor in the nearby village of Praze-an-Beeble, but its origins seemed mysterious. The surveyor in question, a Mr William Carah, wrote to Langdon and said,

“It seems a mystery where the cross we have originally came from. A friend of mine, living abroad at present, saw it, I think, at a farm-place, being used as a bottom for a beehive. He asked the people for it, intending to fix it somewhere. At any rate, when he left England he had not done so, and at my request they gave the cross to me.”

The condition of the cross-head wasn’t too good and Langdon suggested it had “received some very rough treatment” – no doubt when it was hacked from its shaft. With his usual precision he gave the dimensions of the cross-head as follows:

“Height, 1 ft. 6 in.; width, 1 ft. 8 in.; thickness: at the bottom 6½ in., at the top 5½ in.

Front. — Part of a small conventional figure of Christ, extending to the knees, at which point the fracture occurred which separated the head from the shaft.

Back. — The remains of a mutilated Latin cross in relief.”

The stone shaft or menhir that once supported this carved head has, it would seem, long since been destroyed.

References:

Blight, J.T., Ancient Crosses and other Antiquities in the West of Cornwall, Simpkin Marshall: London 1858.
Courtney, R.A., The Evolution of the Wheel Cross, Beare & Sons: Penzance 1914.
Doble, Gilbert H., A History of the Parish of Crowan, King Stone Press: Shipston-on-Stour 1939.
Langdon, Andrew, Stone Crosses in West Cornwall, Federation of Old Cornwall Societies 1999.
Langdon, Arthur G., Old Cornish Crosses, Joseph Pollard: Truro 1896.

Witch’s Stone, Bankfoot, Perthshire

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Standing Stone: OS Grid Reference – NO 04236 37526

Getting Here

Travel along the B867 road from Bankfoot to Dunkeld (running roughly parallel with the A9) and you’ll reach the hamlet of Waterloo about one mile north of Bankfoot. As you approach the far end of the village, keep your eyes peeled for the small turning on your left and head up there for just over a mile. The road runs to a dead end at Meikle Obney farm, but shortly before reaching there you’ll pass this large standing stone on the right-side of the road, just along the fence-line. It’s almost impossible to miss!

Archaeology & History

This is one of “the large rude upright stones found in the parish” that William Marshall (1880) mentioned briefly, amidst his quick sojourn into the Druidic history of Perthshire. It’s an impressive standing stone on the southern edges of the Obney Hills that doesn’t seem to be in its original position. And it’s another one that was lucky to survive, as solid metal staples were hammered into it more than a hundred years ago when it was incorporated into the fencing, much like the massive Kor Stone 6½ miles south-west of here.

Shown on the first Ordnance Survey map of the area in 1867, its bulky 6½-foot-tall body stands all alone on this relatively flat plain, with open views to the east, south and west. It gave me the distinct impression that it was once part of a larger megalithic complex, but I can find no additional evidence to substantiate this. Call it a gut-feeling if you will. Intriguingly, the closest site to this are two standing stones just out of view literally ⅔-mile (1.07km) to the northeast, aligned perfectly to the Witch’s Stone! Most odd…

Folklore

The story behind this old stone is a creation myth that we find all over the country, but usually relating to prehistoric tombs more than monoliths. The great Fred Coles (1908) wrote:

“the common legend is told of a witch who, when flying through the air on some Satanic behest, let the Stone fall out of her apron.”

References:

Coles, Fred, “Report on Stone Circles Surveyed in Perthshire – North-eastern Section,” in Proceedings Society Antiquaries, Scotland, volume 42, 1908.
Marshall, William, Historic Scenes in Perthshire, William Oliphant: Edinburgh 1880.
Stewart, Elizabeth, Dunkeld – An Ancient City, Munro Press: Perth 1926.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.

Kor Stone, Logiealmond, Perthshire

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Standing Stone: OS Grid Reference – NN 9733 3004

Also Known as:

Car Stone
Carse Stone

Getting Here

Take the tiny long winding B8063 road that runs west off the A9 at Luncarty, meandering eventually to the entry of the Sma’ Glen. If you’re coming via Luncarty, after going west for 8 miles (12.9km) you pass the hamlet of Harrietfield and just a few hundred yards further a dirt-track on your right goes uphill to Milton. If you’re coming via Crieff/Sma’ Glen direction, along the B8063 road, cross the Bridge of Buchanty and after nearly 3 miles (4.7km) just past a bit of a hairpin, you’ll see the track up to Milton on your left. Walk up, past all the newly modernised houses and go through the gate, bearing right where, in the field on your right (thru another gate) you’ll see this big fella standing alone 200 yards to the east along the fence-line.

Archaeology & History

This is a bit of a hidden beauty! Standing nearly ten feet tall on the crest of an elongated ridge with the land ever so gently declining either side of its proud stand, it beckons the impression of partners long since gone (or something truly olde)… and so it proved to be. Very little has been written about the place, despite its impressive stature. It seems to have been described firstly in J.W. Thomson’s essay on the local parish in April 1837 (subsequently published in the NSA in 1845) where, ascribing it as usual to the druids of olde, he told that,

“at the western extremity of Logiealmond, there is one remarkable block about 12 feet high and 18 feet in circumference, standing upon its narrow end, with three other stones in its immediate vicinity. It is commonly called the Kor Stone.”

William Marshall (1880) also mentioned these three additional standing stones, saying that they were “apparently part of a row.” But they are long gone and we know not what became of them. They were probably uprooted and included in some of the nearby walling or buildings (quite a lot of suspicious-looking stones scatter the edges of many fields around Logiealmond). If we look closely at the surface of our Kor Stone, in earlier times someone has fixed metal loops into the monolith to make it part of an early fence or gate.

The stone was highlighted on the 1867 OS-map of the area and described in the accompanying Name Book,

“Carse” Stone on 1867 map

“A stone about ten feet high, supposed by some people to be the remains of a Druidical Circle, by others to be a mark on a division of lands: in support of the latter supposition they bring forward the fact of a large stone at Dunkeld and one near Fowlis – both similar to this one – and The Carse Stane being in the same straight line.”

The great Fred Coles (1911) ALSO gave the place his attention, but apart from a brief description of its size and position, he found no additional lore about the other three stones, telling us simply:

“It is an imposingly large and erect block of rugged whinstone, 9 feet 9 inches in height, with a basal girth of 15 feet 10 inches, but at about midway of its height the girth increases to fully 17 feet. The view…shows the Stone as seen from the east.”

In truth, the location of this giant stone on the ridge strongly suggests it was once part of a much greater megalithic neolithic monument. But whatever that might have looked like, we may never know. It’s an awesome site though. Well worth checking out if you’re in the area.

References:

Coles, Fred, “Report on Stone Circles Surveyed in Perthshire, Principally Strathearn” in Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries, Scotland, volume 45, 1911.
Finlayson, Andrew, The Stones of Strathearn, One Tree Island: Comrie 2010.
Marshall, William, Historic Scenes in Perthshire, William Oliphant: Edinburgh 1880.
Thomson, J.W., “Parish of Moneydie,” in New Statistical Account of Scotland – volume X: Perth, William Blackwood: Edinburgh 1845.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.

St. Cuthbert’s Well, Leith, Midlothian

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Holy Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – NT 2611 7600

Also Known as:

Bonnington Mineral Well

Archaeology & History

If we’d have lived 200 years ago and walked several miles downstream from St Bernard’s Well on the Water of Leith, we would have eventually come across this little-known sacred site, sadly destroyed in the 19th century. It was shown on the earliest OS-map on the south-side of the river, enclosed in a small square building with what looks like two entrances, and what appears to be a covering of the spring on the southeast side. Marked as a chalybeate, or iron-bearing well, this would have obviously have had repute amongst local people and would have worked as a tonic or pick-me-up, aswell as fortifying the blood and a having a host of other benefits.

The Ordnance Survey lads wrote short notes about St. Cuthbert’s Well in the Name Book of 1852-53, where they told:

“A Well Situated at Bonnington. Supposed to have been dedicated to St Cuthbert; about 34 years ago the proprietor repaired the well and at the same time erected a house over it, and fitted it up for Visitors who are charged one penny for a drink. The Water of the well has been analysed by Professor Jameson and Doctor Turner and it was found to Contain Salts of Iron; Soda, magnesia and Lime, also Iodine under the form of Hydrisdate of Potash.”

About the same time as Jameson & Turner’s analysis of St. Cuthbert’s waters, one Dr Edward Schweitzer (1845) wrote one of the most detailed chemical essays on wells, ever!—using Bonnington’s holy well as his primary focus. A near-thirty-page essay found that, along with an excess of iron, the medicinal aspects of the waters were due to the following compounds found, per grains, in each pint of water:

Sulphate of Potassa — 2.46554 gr
Sulphate of Soda — 1.51227 gr
Sulphate of Lime — 6.28816 gr
Iodide of Sodium — 0.00728 gr
Bromide of Sodium — 0.07886 gr
Chloride of Ammonium — 9.49939 gr
Chloride of Sodium — 3.82963 gr
Chloride of Magnesium — 3.12017 gr
Nitrate of Soda — 2.02154 gr
Carbonate of Magnesia — 1.70443 gr
Proto-Carbonate of Iron — 0.05807 gr
Proto-Carbonate of Manganese — 0.01535 gr
Ammonia (united to organic matter) — 0.42285 gr
Alumina — 0.02245 gr
Silica — 0.18651 gr

In 1837, a Mr Robert Fergusson was known to be “the keeper of the Mineral Well, Bonnington,” but much of its traditions and history have fallen outside of memory. The site was soon to become another mid-Victorian ‘Spa Well’, where local people would have to pay for water they had always used as Nature intended. In truth, the waters and its well-house were to become a place where the rich Industrialists could heal their infirm mind-bodies, hoping that the destitution they lacked emotionally and spiritually would be washed away in the sacred waters. But it didn’t last long! What little is known about it historically was best described in John Russel’s (1933) essay on Bonnington in the Old Edinburgh Club journal. He wrote:

“Just where the Bonnington mill lade joins the Water of Leith once flowed St. Cuthbert’s Well, an ancient spring named after the patron saint of the once extensive parish of St. Cuthbert’s, and like the now forgotten mineral well of St. Leonard’s near Powderhall, a relic of a superstitious age. As to when this well was so designated history is silent but it was probably before 1606, when the Leith portions of Bonnington, Pilrig and Warriston were, by the Scots Parliament, included in the Parish of North Leith…

“In May, 1750 St. Cuthbert’s Well was found to be possessed of medicinal properties. The Scots Magazine of that year refers to many persons frequenting it. The Well formed part of a building which included a pump room and a reading room. From advertisements in the periodicals of 1819 we learn that it was open from 6 o’clock in the morning and that newspapers were to be found on the table all day. The tenant also issued handbills headed “St. Cuthbert’s Mineral Well, Bonnington”, giving a chemical analysis of the water and a list of the ailments for which it had been found beneficial. The Well disappeared with the re-construction of Haig’s Distillery in 1857. It now lies beneath the buildings immediately west of the chimney stack of Messrs John Inglis and Sons.”

St. Cuthbert’s feast day was March 20 (Spring Equinox) and September 4.

A half-mile southwest of here could once be seen the waters of St. Leonard’s Well, which Ruth & Frank Morris (1982) erroneously thought to have been this Well of St. Cuthbert.

References:

Bennett, Paul, Ancient and Holy Wells of Edinburgh, TNA 2017.
Geddie, John, The Water of Leith, W.H. White: Edinburgh 1896.
Morris, Ruth & Frank, Scottish Healing Wells, Alethea: Sandy 1982.
Rhind, William, Excursions Illustrative of the Geology & Natural History of the Environs of Edinburgh, John Anderson: Edinburgh 1836.
Russel, John, “Bonnington: Its Lands and Mansions”, in Book of the Old Edinburgh Club, vol.19, 1933.
Schweitzer, Edward G., “Analysis of the Bonnington Water, near Leith,” in Philosophical Magazine & Journal of Science, volume 24, 1845.

Stroness (3), Fowlis Wester, Perthshire

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Cup-and-Ring Stone: OS Grid Reference – NN 9285 2754

Getting Here

If you can make your way to the Stroness (2) carving, then walk down the slope for less than 50 yards past quite a few other earthfast stones, you’ll eventually run into the stone shown here in the photos. You’ll find it easily enough.

Archaeology & History

This carving was found when I was heading down the hillside to meet up with my antiquarian colleague 500 yards lower down. The sun was just setting, so visibility wasn’t good, but as I rushed from stone to stone feeling each one in the hope of finding a carving, this one gave my fingers that distinct feedback of a cup-marking; then another; and what seemed like another. I had a small amount of water left in a bottle and quickly sprayed it over the surface of the stone and saw that there were indeed a number of cups on it. Two or three certainly – but possibly as many as five. I laid on the wet ground and looked across its even surface from several angles and caught what seemed to be a very faint semi-circle around one of the cups. But I wasn’t sure it was real. However, on a number of quick photos I took, several of them do appear to show such an arc around one of the cups. But I’m very cautious about it. Only when we (or you) go back up and have a look at it in good light will we be able to affirm or discount it.

One additional feature that needs mentioning is a small low arc of walling just above this stone. It’s man-made, it’s very old, but I couldn’t work out what it might be: hut circle, cairn (there’s one further up the hill), enclosure walling. I’m not sure, but it needs to be looked at when we have a full day.

Stroness (2), Fowlis Wester, Perthshire

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Cup-Marked Stone: OS Grid Reference – NN 92774 27569

Also Known as:

Buchanty Hill

Getting Here

The minor road that runs roughly north-south between the hamlets of Fowlis Wester and Buchanty is probably your best bet. Nearly 2 miles north of the village up the tiny winding lane, where the moorland at the roadside finishes and the fields begin – is where to take the track, left, up onto the hillside. But after just 75 yards, go left over the rickety-gate and follow the walling until your reach the burn. Follow this up all the way to its source (it’s boggy as hell) and, once you’re there, walk due north for 250 yards until you reach a cluster of rocks. Look around!

Archaeology & History

It’s a long way to come to see such a simplistic design —but for the real petroglyph researchers among you, it’s worth it the trek. It’s had scant attention. George Currie (2004) seems to have been the only person to mention this stone, giving the standard bland description typifying archaeology. He wrote:

“SE-facing slope, 1.2m long pointed rock aligned E-W; three shallow cups, 30-40 x 6-10mm.”

Inspiring stuff, ey?! Anyhow… As usual, there’s more to it than that. If we assume that the carving described above is the same one I visited yesterday (Mr Currie’s grid-ref is slightly different), even despite the poor daylight, it was obvious there was more than three cup-marks on this.

When I got to this stone, the evening sun was literally touching the horizon and so the light cutting across half the rock highlighted very little indeed. I was rushing, trying to fondle and see as much as I could before the darkening sky clouded everything, and as I almost frenetically sprayed showers of water across its surface, the two or three cups that I could see near the crown of the stone suddenly doubled in number. Two cups along one edge became three; whilst the sloping surface above these that had one cup suddenly seemed to have a companion. On the highest part of this gently sloping stone, the form of one of the two distinct cup-marks that first caught my eye seemed to slowly morph into one of the carved “footprint” designs, akin to those clustered on the Ardoch (2) carving 1½ miles south-west of here. However, this element needs looking at again, as it may have been a curious playful trick between stone and light showing me something that wasn’t there! Things like that happen with stones.

Altogether there are at least six cup-marks on here, but perhaps as many as eight. Obviously, if we (or you) visit the site when the light is much better, an even larger design might emerge from this old rock.

I spent perhaps just five minutes here, before heading back down to meet my companion 500 yards below in the midst of the boggy moorland. Usually a carving gets my fondles for a an hour or two, but conditions weren’t good for us to form a healthy relationship. And so, as I headed downhill, another unrecorded cup-marked stone appeared beneath my rushing feet (Stroness [3] carving)— and I spoke with that for only a couple of minutes. We need to come back up here and zigzag to find other companions that lay sleeping, forgotten for countless centuries…

References:

Currie, George, ‘Buchanty Hill (Fowlis Wester parish): Cup-marked Rocks’, in Discovery & Excavation Scotland, volume 5, 2004.

Megget Stane, Yarrow, Selkirkshire

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Standing Stone: OS Grid Reference – NT 15061 20292

Also Known as:

Meggat Stane

Archaeology & History

This curiously-named and barely frequented Megget Stane has seen better days. Found in the middle of a veritable nowhere, when Duncan Fraser (1901) first wrote about it there was only a solitary pathway running between these uninhabited glens, with this old stone standing as a solitary sentinel—albeit a not very grand one! It’s present position at the roadside was given it following a forced removal into a nearby ditch, when the old Edinburgh District Water authority who built the Talla Reservoir a couple of miles away all but destroyed it! On one of Mr Fraser’s many visits, in August 1899, he found what he called his “old friend…lying among the heather broken into three pieces.”

“I frankly confess that this wanton act of vandalism filled me with the deepest indignation,” he wrote—and so he sought to redress the situation and find out who’d damaged the old stone. It transpired that,

“The Edinburgh District Water Trust had a few months before this time purchased from Lord Wemyss the ground at the head of Meggat, which slopes down to Talla. In marking off their new possession, the Trust had run a strong five-barred wire fence along the march, and as Meggatstane stood on the line, why, Meggatstane was bound to go!”

He contacted a local farmer and, between them, they protested to the water company who, eventually, fixed the pieces of the stone back together and erected it in the position that we see today, very close to its original spot. Prior to it being damaged, Fraser told that it stood four feet tall, but when cementing it all back together again, some of its original size was lost.

Its history and legends had been forgotten even in his day and despite enquiries with other local wanderers, all that was ever told of it were variants on it standing hereby since time immemorial. For my part, I’m somewhat sceptical about it having a prehistoric provenance, despite the Royal Commission (1957) lads suggesting a Bronze Age origin—but that’s just my own feeling on the place. I’m more inclined to see this as an early mediaeval stone—but would love to be wrong. It may, perhaps, even date from Viking times…..

Fraser told us an intriguing note when the stone was eventually re-assembled,

” I was interested to learn that when they dug to the bottom of the stone, they found the part underground covered with certain runic-like characters.”

These don’t appear to have been seen since.

References:

Fraser, Duncan, “Meggatstane – An Incident in a Riverside Ramble,” in Border Magazine, volume 6, no.70, November 1901.
Royal Commission Ancient & Historic Monuments, Scotland, An Inventory of the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Selkirkshire, HMSO: Edinburgh 1957.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.