This seems to be the only ‘St John’ dedication on the Isle of May: a small island littered with more saint’s names, seemingly, than Iona and Lindisfarne combined! Illustrated on the 1855 OS-map, without name—and on the present-day large-scale OS-maps too, 20 yards or so from its 1855 position—the standard archaeo-historical records say nothing of the place. Thankfully antiquarian and folklore accounts have preserved evidence of its title. When the Victorian traveller Thomas Muir (1868; 1883) visited the Isle of May, he told how the islanders struggled to maintain a good water supply during a drought there in the 1860s. St. John’s Well was, he told,
“A pump standing by the path above Kirk Haven. The water good, but a little brackish. During all the drought of this summer we pumped water out of this well to supply our cattle.”
After Æ. J.G. Mackay’s (1896) visit to the island he told that here, along with the other holy wells on May,
“their brackish waters have lost the magic virtue they were credited with in early christian, possibly in pagan times.”
In more recent times it was described in W.J. Eggeling’s (1985) natural history survey. St. John’s Well was,
“the well within the high, cylindrical, whitewashed wall-surround lying across Haven Road from the Coal House. Also known as the Pump Well. It is a guiding mark for boats entering Kirk Haven.”
Folklore
St. John’s Day (June 24) was the christian name given to the traditional Midsummer Day, or days, around which good heathen festivals occurred; but we can find no ritual accounts of activity specific to this Well. Help!
References:
Dickson, John, Emeralds Chased in Gold; or, The Isles of the Forth, Oliphant: Edinburgh 1899.
Muir, Thomas S., The Isle of May – A Sketch, Edinburgh 1868.
Muir, Thomas S., Ecclesiological Notes on some of the Islands of Scotland, David Douglas: Edinburgh 1883.
Simpkins, John Ewart, Examples of Printed Folk-lore Concerning Fife, with some Notes on Clackmannan and Kinross-shires, Sidgwick & Jackson: London 1914.
In John Dickson’s (1899) fine work on the history and antiquities of the Forth islands, he describes a number of all-but-forgotten holy and medicinal wells that could be visited in the 19th century—this one included! It was highlighted, without name, on the 1855 OS-map of the island, a short distance west of the curiously named Holyman’s Road. Aerial views of it today seem to indicate that the well was surrounded by walling, which may have been an old well-house—although the archaeological record here is silent. Mr Dickson told us:
“St. Andrew’s Well, beside the Altar Stones, contains the best water on the May and is entirely used for domestic purposes. This spring frequently dries up during the summer months and, in these circumstances, the islanders obtain a supply from Crail.”
Although it is still shown on modern large-scale OS-maps (as ‘St Andrew’s Well’), its present condition is unknown. If this has become boggy and overgrown, it is a sure case for renovation, despite its desolate geography; and especially considering that St Andrew is the patron saint of Scotland, whose festival date is November 30 (thought originally to have been Samhain, or Halloween—the old heathen New Year’s Day). If any visitor or islander could send us photos of the site, that would be awesome!
References:
Dickson, John, Emeralds Chased in Gold; or, The Isles of the Forth, Oliphant: Edinburgh 1899.
Muir, Thomas S., The Isle of May – A Sketch, Edinburgh 1868.
Muir, Thomas S., Ecclesiological Notes on some of the Islands of Scotland, David Douglas: Edinburgh 1883.
Simpkins, John Ewart, Examples of Printed Folk-lore Concerning Fife, with some Notes on Clackmannan and Kinross-shires, Sidgwick & Jackson: London 1914.
Taylor, Simon & Markus, Gilbert, The Place-Names of Fife – volume 3, Shaun Tyas: Donington 2009.
A fascinating site that was described in Johnston & Tullis (2003) local history work on the parish of Muckhart. Amidst an area bedevilled with faerie, boggarts, ghosts and historical shamanic moot sites we find more curious folklore pointing at a long forgotten site, whose age and precise nature remains a mystery. Adjacent to the old boundary line, close to the meeting of streams, the Muckhart authors told that,
“an orchard above the old farmhouse to this day remains mainly untouched. It was the burial site of warlocks from the parish and it is thought some may have even been burned at the Mill. It has always been said that this ground should never be touched! There is an ancient rubble bridge over the Hole Burn which has a Masonic Eye painted on it to ward off any unwelcome spirits. Despite the eye, both the Farmhouse and the Millhouse have been home to many strange and ghostly manifestations.”
The folklore sounds to be a mix of archaic and medieval animistic traits: perhaps of a prehistoric cairn, visited and maintained by local people (as found throughout Britain) until the Burning Times, when christian fanatics arrived, debasing the cultural rites and murdering local innocent people. …Perhaps not.
Looking down on the orchard
When Paul, Maggie and I explored the area a few days ago, we were greeted most cordially by the owner of Muckhart Mill, who knew of the folklore, but didn’t know the exact whereabout of the grave. We couldn’t find any clues as to its exact location either. Apart, perhaps, from the top of the hill immediately above the orchard where, alone and fenced off with an old covered (unnamed) well, a solitary Hawthorn tree stood. We each recalled the aged relationship that Hawthorn has in witch-lore… but that’s as far as it went. The grave remains hidden and may have been destroyed. If anyone discovers its whereabouts, please let us know so that a preservation order can be made to ensure its survival.
References:
Johnston, Tom & Tullis, Ramsay (eds.), Muckhart, Clackmannanshire: An Illustrated History of the Parish, MGAS 2003.
Along the A907 a mile west of Alloa and heading towards Tullibody, just before the roundabout across the road from the school fields, a small entrance takes you into the small wooded parkland. There, right in front of you as you walk in, and visible from the road, is the enclosed architectural stone walling and somewhat ruinous remains that are the Red Well, with its faded name carved on top.
Archaeology & History
Red Well on 1913 map
Although the waters no longer run for the people to drink, this old iron-bearing spring was long of repute to the old folk of eastern Alloa. So much so, it seems, that even Janet & Colin Bord (1985) included it in their national survey of sacred wells! Like other chalybeate springs, its waters were known to be good as a tonic—which makes sense as iron fortifies the blood and general immune system. The Well was highlighted on the 1913 OS-map of the area.
References:
Bord, Janet & Colin, Sacred Waters, Granada: London 1985.
Healing Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – NT 2511 7322
Archaeology & History
Like many others in the city centre, this old well has long since passed into history. Said by Stuart Harris (1996) to have been “about twenty-five yards east of the eastern corner of Lady Lawson Street”, the Victorian writer Alison Dunlop (1890) told it to be by “a narrow close and an outside stair gave (which) entrance to the Court-house.” It was the focus of much social activity in ages past; and although a number of public wells could be found in this part of the city, south of the Castle, the Westport Well was the most renowned. Miss Dunlop told that,
“…its waters (were) of excellent repute (and) had to satisfy the necessities of all the inhabitants of the district. The early morning never failed to see a long line of water-stoups stretching from it in either direction like the queue at a French theatre door. Not so quiet, however, for tongues, mostly feminine, wagged freely, and the ‘Waal’ news and gossip were then the equivalent for a racy morning newspaper.”
According to her account, the patience of the people collecting the water was exemplary:
“All crowding-in was fiercely resented; gentle and simple had to stand their turn; only the water-caddies had the abiding right of precedence, and satisfied their customers at the moderate rate of two stoupful for a penny. We have already mentioned these ancient aquarian vessels peculiar to Scotland. In the event of a marriage taking place—in which case the bride was responsible for an amount of house plenishing not considered incumbent or even fashionable now-a-days—the ‘stoups’ were invariably purchased by the intending husband. Indeed, the Weetin’ o’ the Stoups was the synonym for the last bachelor supper prior to matrimony. Such festivities are understood to be hilarious, happy, hopeful; and the weetin’ o’ the stoups in Old Portsburgh, as in Old Edinburgh, was sometimes very wet indeed.”
Musselburgh has had an ancient fair—held upon St. James’ Day (July 25)—for many centuries. It was held along the old High Street by a more ancient Market Cross than the one seen there today. R.M. Stirling (1894) told us that, “The cross is erected over a draw-well, and in local parlance is known as the Cross Well.”
On the 1853 township map, a water ‘pump’ is shown at the very spot, with the ‘cross’ and water trough shown on subsequent maps. The Well isn’t mentioned in John Small’s (1900) description of the cross and its authenticity as a ‘holy’ well is questionable.
Take the A836 road (between Bettyhill and Tongue), crossing the metal bridge across the River Naver a mile south of Bettyhill. Keep going for nearly a mile, past the houses and into the small trees, keeping your eyes peeled to the right where a small but notable bracken-covered mound rises 10-20 yards in the rough field. Go through the gate and you’re there!
Archaeology & History
Low stone wall along S side
A site which, from the nearby roadside, has all the hallmarks of being yet another Sutherland broch (there are tons of them up here!)—but apparently it isn’t! Despite being shown on the earliest OS-map of the region as a ‘Pict’s House’ (which are usually brochs), the site has subsequently been designated by modern archaeologists as a simple ‘hut circle’. I have my doubts over this, as it’s a most unusual one with little logic over its positioning—unless it was either a look-out point, or an odd ritual spot.
The south side of the mound
As you can see from the poor photos I got of the place, a large angled tumulus-like hillock (it’s akin to a mini-Silbury Hill at first sight) rises up from the ground with a reasonably uniform angle around much of it, to a height of between 16-20 feet. Scattered rocks and stones adorn the mound as you walk up its embankments and onto the top where, around the edges, a notable man-made ring of walling shows it to have been artificially created. Unfortunately most of the top of the mound was completely covered in thick decayed bracken when I visited, so it was difficult to get any good photos of this topmost walling.
The SE side of the mound
From the top of the mound, the walling is between 1-3 feet high, in a roughly circular setting, measuring 36-40 feet across. The most distinct section of it was visible on the west-to-south-to-east section; with the lowest and depleted section occurring on its northern edges. The entrance to the ‘hut circle’ is apparently on its eastern side. Although it is assumed to be Iron Age in nature, its real age is unknown.
References:
Mercer, R.J. & Howell, J.M., Archaeological Field Survey in Northern Scotland – volume 2, University of Edinburgh 1976-1983.
Along the A836 road between Tongue and Bettyhill, turn down towards Skerray at Borgie Bridge for 1.8 miles (2.87km) until you reach the little information sign at the roadside. Walk downhill and cross the little bridge and wander onto the west side of the beach. You’re likely to end up daydreaming… so once you’ve re-focussed, head into the middle of the beach and walk up the steep-ish sand-banks to your right (south). Once at the top, you’ll see a gigantic rock—the Ringstone—bigger than a house.
Folklore
This gigantic boulder is part of one of Sutherland’s archaic Creation Myths as they’re known: ancient stories recounted by archaic societies about the nature and origins of the world. Such tales tend to be peopled by giants, gods, huge supernatural creatures, borne of chaos, eggs, darkness and primal oceans. Thankfully we still find some examples of these tales in the northern and northwestern mountainous regions of Britain, as the Church and Industrialism never quite destroyed the hardcore communities—despite what they might like to tell you…
The face of the RingstoneThe Ringstone, gazing east
The following folktale of the Ringstone was thankfully preserved by the local school headmaster, Alan Temperley (1977), before it vanished orever from the oral traditions of local people (as is sadly happening in these mountains). It typifies stories told of such geological giants from aboriginal Australia, to Skye, to everywhere that people have lived. Mr Temperley wrote:
“Many years ago there were two giants, the Naver giant from the river at Bettyhill, and the Aird giant from the hill above Skerray. Normally they got on quite well, but one afternoon they became involved in a heated argument about some sheep and cattle, and both grew very angry. The Aird giant was standing on top of the hill above Torrisdale bay with the animals grazing around him, and the Naver giant stormed across the river to the beach below.
“Those are my sheep,” he roared up the hill.
“No they’re not,” the Aird giant said. “At least not all of them.”
“You stole them. You’re a thief!”
“No I didn’t. They came up here themselves. Anyway, you owe me fifty sheep from last year.”
“You’re not only as thief, you’re a liar!” shouted the Naver giant. If you don’t send them down this minute, I’ll come up and see to it myself.”
At this the Aird giant gave a disparaging laugh and made a rude face, and picking up a great boulder flung it down the hill at his friend.
The Naver giant was speechless with fury, and picking the stone up himself, hurled it back up the hillside, making a great hole in the ground.
The Aird giant saw things had gone far enough.
“I’ll send them back if you give me that silver ring you’re always wearing,” he said.
“Never!” roared his friend, his face all red and angry.
“Suit yourself then,” said the Aird giant, and picking the stone up again he tossed it back down the hill.
For long enough the rock kept flying between them, and in time the giant from Naver grew tired, because he was throwing it uphill all the time.
“Will you give me the ring now?” said the Aird giant.
For answer the Naver giant tried one more time to throw the stone up the hill, but it only got halfway, and rolled back down to the shore.
“Come on,” said the giant from Aird, for he wanted to be friends again. “Give me the ring, and I’ll let you have it back later.”
“No!” said the Naver giant from the bottom of the hill. “I’ll never give it to you!” His eyes began to fill with tears.
“Oh, come on, please!” coaxed the Aird giant. “Just for a week.”
“Never, never, never!” shouted the giant from Naver, and pulling the ring from his finger he threw it on the ground and jammed the great boulder down on top of it. Then he sat down on top of the stone and stared out to sea. Every so often he sniffed, and his friend, looking down at his broad back, saw him lift the back of a hand to his eyes.
They never made friends again, and after a long time they both died.
The ring is still buried under the stone, and so far nobody has ever been able to shift it.”
The giant’s face, in profile
When I got back from visiting this immense rock a few weeks ago, a local lady Donna Murray asked me if I’d seen the face of the giant in the rock. I hadn’t—as I was looking to see if the name ‘Ringstone’ related to any possible cup-and-rings on its surface, which it didn’t (although I didn’t clamber onto the top). But in the many photos I took from all angles, Donna pointed out the blatant simulacra of the giant’s face when looking at it from the east.
However, on top of the slope above the Ringstone (not the Aird side), I did find a faint but distinct ‘Ringstone’ carving (without a central cupmark). Whether this ever had any mythic relationship to the tale or the stone, we might never know. The rocky terrain above Aird now needs to be looked at…
References:
Eliade, Mircea, Patterns in Comparative Religion, Sheed & Ward: London 1958.
Long, Charles H., “Cosmogony,” in Eliade, M., Encyclopedia of Religion – volume 4, MacMillan: New York 1987.
MacLagan, David, Creation Myths: Man’s Introduction to the World, Thames & Hudson: London 1977.
Temperley, Alan, Tales of the North Coast, Research Publishing Company: London 1977.
Acknowledgments: Massive thanks again to Donna Murray, for her help and for putting up with me amidst my wanderings up in Torrisdale and district.
Whether you take the A836 or A838 into Tongue (through truly beautiful wilderness), make sure you go into the village itself—and then keep going, south, along the tiny country road for 3 miles. Hereby, keep your eyes peeled for Lochan na Cuilce on your right; keep going past here, into and through the old trees where you’ll then see Lochan Hakel on your left. Keep going past here until your reach the next small copse on your right. Stop here. A small pool is yards into the trees and here you’ll see a single stone between that and the roadside. You can’t really miss it!
Archaeology & History
Close-up of some cups (by Donna Murray)
An apparently isolated cup-marked stone, some 3 feet by 5 feet, that was first described in Morrison’s (1883) meanderings amidst Sutherland’s awesome wilderness. It’s quite plain compared to Lochan Hakel 2 and many other carvings, simply consisting of 18 cups of various sizes, mainly on the eastern side of the rock. Sarah MacLean pointed out that a line running along the length of the stone seemed, in parts, to have been artificially enhanced by the hand of man, or woman. I have to agree with her.
The Royal Commission (1911) lads included this petroglyph in their superb survey of Sutherland, telling:
“On the W. side of the road to Kinloch, about ½ m. N of the bridge over the Kinloch River (Amhainn Ceann Locha), and on the N edge of a gravel pit close to the road, is a large earthfast boulder, 5′ in length as far as exposed, and 3′ 10″ in breadth, showing on its upper surface eighteen cup-marks of various depths, of which the most distinct is towards the N end of the stone, measuring about 3″ in diameter and 1″ in depth. The whole length of the stone is not visible, but the markings do not seem to extend to the portion covered…”
Carving in situ (by Donna Murray)by Kevin o’ Reilly
Simulacra lovers will love the form of this stone in relation to the background of the mountains, as its shape is echoed in that of the rising hills several miles to the south. …Of course, the depersonalizing ones amongst you lacking an understanding of animism would reject any such association due to your projection of disbelief. However—and equally—as we lack any ethnographic data on the carving we must also assume some caution…
A fascinating site – and one which is likely to have neighbours hidden in the surrounding moorlands…
References:
Gourlay, Robert, Sutherland: An Archaeological Guide, Birlinn: Edinburgh 1996.
Michell, John, Simulacra, Thames & Hudson: London 1979.
Morrison, Hew, Tourist’s Guide to Sutherland and Caithness, D.H. Edwards: Brechin 1883.
Royal Commission on Ancient & Historical Monuments, Scotland, Second report and inventory of monuments and constructions in the county of Sutherland, HMSO: Edinburgh 1911.
Acknowledgments: Huge thanks to Donna Murray for use of her photos in this site profile (aswell as for putting up with me whilst in the area); and also to Sarah MacLean for taking us to the carving in the first place. Many many thanks indeed. See y’ again soon, hopefully!
Take the A836 road between Tongue and Bettyhill, turning down at Borgie Bridge for 1.8 miles (2.87km) until you reach the little information sign at the roadside. Walk downhill and cross the little bridge and wander onto the west side of the beach. You’re likely to end up daydreaming… so once you’ve re-focussed, head into the middle of the beach and walk up the steep-ish sand-banks to your right (south). Once at the top, you’ll see a gigantic rock—the Ringstone—bigger than a house. Walk up the hill above this until your reach the rocky plateau where things roughly level out. Look around!
Archaeology & History
This previously unrecognised carving on the edge of the rocky promontory that drops down to the stunning Torrisdale Bay—above the gigantic and legendary Ringstone boulder—is very much like the curious ‘C’-shaped motif on the Fyfield Down petroglyph, a couple of miles east of Avebury, literally 499 miles (803km) to the south. Indeed, that’s all I kept thinking about when I found it!
Ringstone carving, looking S
The carving’s nowt special—apart from the fact that it’s seemingly isolated and has no apparent companions nearby. It’s an incomplete circle, perhaps more like a bell-shape than a circle, about six inches across and seems to have no inner cup-mark. Its general appearance on the rock surface seems to indicate it was carved by a metal tool, instead of being ‘pecked’—but it’s still very old. Initially, I wondered whether it was an ichnological fossil or stromatolite—but it isn’t.
(Note that the OS-grid-ref is just a 6-figure one. I was ambling about and didn’t make an exact note of the place, but it won’t take much finding on the rocky levels above the giant Ringstone if you zigzag about. Apologies for the poor photos too, but She was cloudy most of the day.)
Acknowledgments: Huge thanks to Donna Murray, for putting me up in this part of Paradise. Cheers Donna.
