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!
Best visited in winter and spring – thereafter the vegetation can hide it a little – but even then, it’s not too hard to find. Start from the Cow & Calf Hotel and walk across the road onto the moor, and head over as if you’re gonna walk above the Cow & Calf Rocks, onto the moorland proper. When you’ve gone a few hundred yards, walk up the slope (there are several footpaths – you can take your choice). Once on the ridge on top of the moor proper, you’ll see the Haystack Rock: it’s on the same ridge, right near where the moor drops down the slope about 250 yards west of here, just about next to the footpath that runs along the edge. Look around!
Archaeology & History
Unlike some folk who’ve seen this old stone, I find this carving superb. Its one of my favourites up here! Its alternative name – the Planet Stone – perhaps lends you to expect something more, but this is down to the astronomer who thought this was some type of heavenly image (which is most unlikely). I prefer to call it the ‘Map Stone’ because the correlates this carving has with indigenous aboriginal cup-and-rings is impressive and — to Aborigines anyway — would have all the hallmarks of a map. But not a ‘map’ in the traditional sense of modern humans. The incidence of cups and rings linked by curvaceous lines, typifies routes between water-holes or settlement spots made by ancestral beings — which is just what we find at this carving here. These ancestral beings need to be seen in a quite mythic sense: they may be creation deities (giants, gods, etc), animal spirits, the routes of shaman spirits, or other expressions of homo-religiosus.
Map Stone (note the carved line along the very edge of the rock)…and again from another angle
In the Map Stone here, we see that the very edge of the rock (fig.2 & 3) is ‘encircled’, perhaps (and I say perhaps) symbolic of the edge of the world. The lines and rings upon the top of the rock may symbolize journeys to and from important places. Another impression I get of this carving, with the “map” idea, is that the large pecked diamond-shaped ‘cup’ near the middle of the carving is a large body of water around which the archaic routeways passed. The next time anyone visits this stone, have a look at it with this idea in mind. Its simple, straightforward and makes sense (mind you – that doesn’t mean to say it’s right!).
The first account I’ve found of this comes from the pen of J. Romilly Allen (1882), where this stone “measuring 5ft 3in by 5ft, and 1ft 9in high” was described thus:
“On its upper surface, which is nearly horizontal, are carved thirteen cups, varying in diameter from 2 to 2½ in, eleven of which are surrounded by rings. There is also an elaborate arrangment of connecting grooves.”
Although we can only work our nine cup-and-rings here today, Mr Allen seemed suitably impressed with this old carving. Stan Beckensall (1999) seemed to have a good feel of this design too, describing it thus:
“Two thirds of the surface of this earthfast sandstone have been used in a design that partly encloses the marked part of the rock with long curvilinear grooves along its edge, and the inner grooves link single rings around cups. The effect is one of inter-connection and fluidity.”
The Map, or Planets Stone (after Hedges 1986)
The Map Stone was also looked at to examine the potential for Alexander Thom’s proposal of a megalithic inch: a unit of measure speculated to have been used in neolithic and Bronze Age times for the carving of cup-and-ring stones. Using nine other carvings on these moor as samples, Alan Davies (1983, 1988) explored this hypothesis and gave the idea his approval. However the selectivity of his data, not only in the carvings chosen, throws considerable doubt on the idea. Unfortunately the idea doesn’t hold water. The ‘geometry’ in the size of cup-and-rings relates more to the biometrics of the human hand and not early scientific geometry, sadly….
References:
Allen, J.R., ‘Prehistoric Rock Sculptures of Ilkley,’ in Journal British Arch. Assoc., 35, 1879.
Allen, J.R., ‘Notice of Sculptured Rocks near Ilkley, with some Remarks on Rocking Stones,’ in Journal British Arch. Assoc., 38, 1882.
Allen, J.R., ‘Cup and Ring Sculptures on Ilkley Moor,’ in Reliquary Illus. Archaeology, 2, 1896.
Beckensall, Stan, British Prehistoric Rock Art, Tempus: Stroud 1999.
Boughey, K.J.S. & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS: Exeter 2003.
Collyer, Robert & Turner, J.H., Ilkley: Ancient and Modern, William Walker: Otley 1885.
Cowling, E.T., Rombald’s Way, William Walker: Otley 1946.
Davis, Alan, ‘The Metrology of Cup & Ring Carvings near Ilkley in Yorkshire,’ Science Journal 25, 1983.
Davies, Alan, ‘The Metrology of Cup and Ring Carvings,’ in Ruggles, C., Records in Stone, Cambridge 1988.
Hedges, John, The Carved Rocks on Rombald’s Moor, WYMCC: Wakefield 1986.
Alan Davies’ image of the carving – with carved ‘lake’ near centre
This is the highest point of the moors, 1320 feet up. There’s various ways of getting there: I’d favour the wander up to Twelve Apostles then taking the 15 minute walk west to the triangulation point which marks the spot. If you reach the large rocky outcrop of the Thimble Stones, you’ve gone too far; although you can walk past the Thimbles, if you’ve started your walk from the two radio masts atop of the moor where the old Roman road hits the dirt-track. Either way, unless you’re damn stupid, this is an easy spot to find!
Archaeology & History
Although today there’s little to be seen, when Collyer & Turner (1885) described the place it was 175 yards in circumference! Bloody huge! When Harry Speight got here in 1900, it had shrunk slightly to 150 yards. Now however, almost all the stones have been robbed. I first came here when I was just 11 years old and remember it was a decent size even then – at least as large as the Little Skirtful and Great Skirtful of Stones more than a mile to the east. Today however, unless you knew it was once a giant cairn, you wouldn’t give it a second look.
It’s quite appalling what’s happened to this site thanks to the sheer ignorance and neglect of the local archaeologist in tandem with his paymasters at Bradford Council: 90% of the site has been utterly vandalised and destroyed as a result of these incompetent idiots in the last 20 years. Nowadays, all you can make out here is the raised earth for about 10 yards surrounding the trig-point. It seems that most of the stones that comprised this giant cairn have been taken for use in walling, and to prop up the stupid paved footpaths which the local Council and its affiliated halfwits are slowly building o’er these hills.* Morons!
Aar Dave on top o’ t’ moors
I’m not quite sure why it was called Nixon’s Station. It was J. Atkinson Busfield (1875) who mentioned this name, quite casually in his fine local history work, as if local folk had known it as such for sometime. There was also an inference of it being the resting place of some old general, but I’ve found nor heard anything more along such lines — though worra superb place for your spirit to roam free…..
If anyone has any old photos of this once giant prehistoric site, it would be good to see it in its old glory once again. When I wandered up here as a kid, I never carried things like a camera about (being a Luddite by nature!).
References:
Busfield, J.A., Fragments Relating to the History of Bingley Parish, Bradford 1875.
Collyer, R. & Turner, J.H., Ilkley, Ancient & Modern, Otley 1885.
* Anyone know exactly which idiots are responsible for the stone footpaths being laid over the moors here? They’re damn stupid and cause even more erosion and damage to the environment and prehistoric heritage up here, as anyone with an ounce of common sense can see. Can someone please get them stopped!?
The best way to get here it is to head from the Cow and Calf Hotel up the hillside to where the great rock is sticking out (the Pancake Stone). From here, head straight onto the moor toward the Idol Stone — close to the Idol Rock which you can see 400 yards south in front of you. From here, follow the footpath up the hill before you and keep on the path towards Lanshaw Lass. About 100 yards on, turn straight west into the heather and keep your eye towards the south. About 250 yards on, about 100 yards away from the Green Crag Top cup-marked boulder, you’ll see it!
Archaeology & History
One of very few solitary standing stones on Ilkley Moor, and one which I relocated after The Old Stones of Elmet (2001) had gone to press — which was a great pity. Nearly four feet tall, this is a good chunky monolith which stands close to being on line with the summer solstice alignment from the nearby Twelve Apostles stone circle. (I was gonna call it the Summer Stone, but thought better of it!)
There’s another recumbent stone, more than five feet tall when erected, 200 yards northwest of here. (This is also very close to being in line with with our chunky monolith, plus the Twelve Apostles. Anyone out there with a GPS who can check if this possible alignment is the last remnant of a summer solstice stone row? It probably isn’t, but it’d be good to find out.) On the same moorland level, heading back down, when the heather’s burnt back you’ll find a number of prehistoric tombs along the edge of the ridge. These don’t appear to be in the archaeological registers.
Follow the directions to reach the Great Skirtful of Stones giant cairn (very worryingly being encroached upon, illegally [it’s a protected monument], by employees of Bradford Council digging tracks into its edges). Walk less than 100 yards to the east, down the slight moorland slope (Leeds & Otley Chevin are in the distance). You’re here!
Archaeology & History
This is a very intriguing site. Intriguing because we don’t actually know what it is! It’s best seen at the end of winter, shortly after the heather-burning’s been done; but if there’s been no burning here, after a year or two it’s almost impossible to find!
Great Skirtful Ring on 1851 mapColls’ 1846 plan
Despite it being only a short distance east of the Great Skirtful giant cairn, very little has been written about it (a surprise in itself!) – but this is down the failings of archaeological professionals in the area, who still neglect this incredible prehistoric arean. It was first described in Mr J.N.M. Colls’ (1846) survey of sites in the region, where he thought it to be a prehistoric camp. Several years later the Ordnance Survey lads visited here and deemed it to be prehistoric barrows, which doesn’t seem true. Nearly a hundred years later, the great northern antiquarian Eric Cowling (1946) who saw fit to describe it as an “enclosure” — so I’m copying his idea so I don’t get into too much trouble! Thinking it to be a Bronze Age monument, he wrote:
“On the main ridge of Rombald’s Moor and about eighty yards to the east of the Great Skirtful barrow, is a small circular enclosure with a diameter of twenty yards. There appears to have been an entrance on the eastern side, which is protected by a short length of banking to the east.”
Aerial image, 2002Aerial image, 2009
The “length of banking” he described didn’t seem apparent when we visited the site yesterday (23.3.09), but we intend a further exploration of this and the adjacent monuments in the coming weeks and hope to locate it!
Interestingly, the archaeologists Faull & Moorhouse (1981:1:103), in their otherwise fine survey, actually doubted this place as having any prehistoric status, without giving any reason why—which was a big mistake. No doubt they spent too much time in offices and board meetings instead of getting out a bit more! Unless evidence to the contrary can be strongly presented, this site must be classed as undoubtedly prehistoric in nature (Bronze Age or Iron Age certainly) and almost certainly had something to do with rituals of the dead.
Great Skirtful Ring embankmentSouthern edge of the ring
From outer edge to outer edge the ‘ring’ measures 102 feet across, N-S, and with a rough maximum 101 feet E-W, being diameter, being some 300 feet in circumference. When you look at the site at ground level it appears to be an almost perfect ring, consisting of an embankment little more than 2 feet high at the most, with entrances both east and west. However, as the aerial images show, the perfect circle aint quite so perfect! But at ground level, there’s a certain uniformity about it. The embankment is in very good condition around much of the ring, with only slight damage in certain parts. The western opening strongly implies a direct relationship with the Great Skirtful cairn — which would infer this monument to have more of a ritual nature rather than the simple domestic enclosure, inferred by Colls and Cowling. Adding to this we find a tumulus 100 yards east and the remains of several other cairns nearby, making the site almost hemmed in by death-sites. A prehistoric cemetery is a short distance further down the moorland slopes to the east. Add also the fact that the Burley Moor stone avenue runs immediately south and the death-motif has to be increased.
What do I think it is? Not sure! The thought that it’s a previously unrecognized henge has crossed my mind…but henge monuments aren’t things that I’m very clued-up on, so wouldn’t like to say for sure. If there are any university archaeology students out there who are into getting their feet dirty, give this site a look-over. It’s intriguing, in very good condition, and could do with an accurate ID!
References:
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Chieveley 2001.
Colls, J.N.M., ‘Letter upon some Early Remains Discovered in Yorkshire,’ in Archaeologia, volume 31, 1846.
Cowling, Eric T., Rombald’s Way, William Walker: Otley 1946.
Faull, M.L. & Moorhouse, S.A. (eds), West Yorkshire: An Archaeological Survey – volume 1, WYMCC: Wakefield 1981.
From Ilkley town, head up the road as if you’re going to White Wells but keep following the moorland road up towards Whetstone Gate and the TV masts on the very tops (you’ll have to walk the last half-mile). Shortly before you get them, you can’t miss this relic by the track-side on your right-hand side.
Archaeology & History
Possibly a christianised monolith, but more likely an original site, put here in an attempt to make local people stop going to the Badger Stone for regular spring gatherings. However, there was until recently what looked like an old monolith on the ground a few yards away, which may have stood upright before the cross was erected. Also on the south-facing side of the cross were four cup-markings, indicating great age. These may also have been added when the cross was erected. (We know this occurred at other sites in the region, e.g., Churn Milk Joan, Midgley Moor, where such cup-marks were added sometime in the 15th or 16th century.) However, thanks to some idiotic halfwits in more recent years going up here and vandalizing Cowper’s Cross, the prehistoric cup-markings that were on this relic have been destroyed. The upright shaft of the cross that’s here now is a re-worked gatepost that replaced the old shaft with its authentic ‘pagan’ carvings.
1920s postcard of the Cross
But it’s had other bits of bad luck through the years. The site was struck by lightning many years back, splitting the stone in half, but has since been rebuilt and stands adjacent to its original position, right next to the old Roman road that crosses Ilkley Moor. Historian Allan Butterfield suggested this site to have originally been an old boundary markstone, christianised many centuries ago. The name ‘Cowper’ derives from the local Ilkley family of Cawper.
Those of you interested in the early christian history of these moors should also have a look at the little-known Black Knoll Cross, less than a mile south of here in the middle of Morton Moor.
Folklore
Folklore relates that markets were held at this old stone cross many years ago. This gives added weight to the idea that the nearby cup-and-ring marked Badger Stone, where markets were probably held around the time of the equinoxes, was the original site for such gatherings.
Note that another site, the Reva Hill Cross, on the eastern side of this moor, has much the same history.
References:
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Chieveley 2001.
Cowling, E.T., Rombald’s Way, William Walker: Otley 1946.
This place is one of the first things you see when roving the northern edge of Ilkley Moor. Tis the small white house, perched on the hillside, which you can reach via the old track bending round to it on the west side, or the steep footpath which goes roughly straight uphill from the road, just above Ilkley Town centre, up (both) Wells Walk or Wells Road. If you go just a few hundred yards up these roads, as the road bends and the moor opens up ahead, you’ll see the white building above you. But if you’re truly useless at finding your way about, ask anyone of them there locals…
Archaeology & History
The White Wells, Ilkley Moor
The White Wells have been described by countless writers over the centuries and attested as one of the great healing wells of the region. It was, without doubt, one of the most important water supplies to the indigenous Britons living on the moors here. One of their settlement sites is above the cliffs behind the modern position of the wells — though archaeological work has yet to be undertaken been. Cup-and-ring marked stones scatter the edge of the ridge right above where the waters originally appeared (a few hundred yards further up the slope on the hillside, just below the trees); and the folk-memory of our ancestors living here is found in several adjacent sites known by ‘fairy’ place-names.
But today it looks nothing like it would have done when the ancient people of the moors drank these waters, nor even when the Romans came here. For the white building which today houses the well was built around 1760 by the local Squire Middleton and originally contained three plunge baths in which folk would take the ‘cold water cure.’ (These were looked after by William Butler and his wife and were typically used by the gentry of the period, who it seems didn’t mind too much having to walk up the hillside to bathe in the “mellifluent, diaphanous, luminous waters.”)
Carved ‘celtic’ head, from which the water now emerges
The water in the house (you can go in and have a look), which now empties into a plunge pool, pours gently from the open mouth of a ‘celtic head’ – thought by some modern pagans to be ancient, but in fact is barely 200 years old. The water at White Wells originally emerged from the Earth several hundred yards further up the slope, above the present position of the house, much closer to the moor edge near the bottom of the steep slope where the pine trees cling, amidst rocks, moss and lichen. Here is where the original waters were first borne.
Long held as being curative, the first detailed description of the place was in Thomas Short’s (1734) magnum opus, where he said:
“Ichley-spaw springs out of the middle of a mountain, a mile high, and consists chiefly of lime stone and freestone. The water is very clear, brisk and sparkling; has no taste, colour nor smell different from the common water, is of the same weight. Its bason and course are of no other dye than that of a common spring. About thirty-five years ago, there were a house and a bath built, about a furlong below the original spring, which spring was brought down in stone-pipes. The first spring, near the top of the hill was very weak and small; this, very large and strong; whereby there appears to be a large mixture of other springs with this; since which time, it has fallen much sort of its former great success. Twenty yard above the drinking well (over which is built a small house of a yard square on the inside) they have cut thro’ an original spring of common water. There are several old lime-kilns a little above this. The water is first whitish, then blackish purple with solution of silver; it’s very clear, and has a purplish pellicle, with solution of sublimate; it was first white, then clear in the middle, and a white mucus at the sides and bottom of the glass, with solution of Sugar of Lead; very clear, with Oil of Tartar; whitish, with Spirit of Hartshorn; and the same as common water, with all the other trials. Five pints of this liquor exhaled left seven grains of sediment, the salt whereof dissolved in distilled water, turned solution of silver purple; was white with Spirit of Hartshorn: therefore tho’ this water is of the greatest esteem and repute of any in the north of England, in the King’s Evil and other old ulcers; yet it derives these effects neither from its fixt nor volatile parts; but wholly from the coldness and purity of the element, its drying nature from the lime-stone it washes, tho’ a great part of it comes from blue clay.”
In 1830, one Thomas Shaw said of the place,
“The water is, perhaps, for its purity, tenuity and coldness, the best qualified to be of utility for relaxed and sedantry habits of any water in this part of the country. It has frequently been analysed, but the decomposition always proved that it contains no medicinal quality. In my opinion, it is its purity and softness only, which makes if more efficacious, by passing sooner and to the utmost and finest limits of the circulation than any water known.”
But although many cures were claimed of the waters here, as Kathleen Denbigh (1981) wrote:
“According to a 1977 analysis, it is simply a clear, colourless spring water of moderate hardness, organically pure and free from metallic contamination and coliform organisms.” — i.e., it’s good clean water!
When the place gained a reputation as a spa, it was frequented by such notaries as Charles Darwin, Frederick Delius and Prof. David Baldwin. But even before this, in 1709, Dr Richard Richardson of Bradford—a reputable naturalist but also with considerable interest in ancient and occult matters—wrote that the site “has done very remarkable cures in scrofulous cases by bathing and drinking of it.”
Folklore
Old photo of Mr Butterfield, who saw fairies here
Popularly believed in local lore to have been a place held as sacred to the Romans, I’m of the opinion that the local ‘goddess’ Verbeia was resident here. A thought also mentioned by G.T. Oakley (1999) in his book on the subject.
Legend tells that the medicinal properties of the waters were first discovered hundreds of years ago when an old shepherd, walking over the moors, damaged his leg. Upon bathing it in the waters here, it soon healed.
In the Folklore Record of 1878 we find a fascinating tale about these waters, alleged to have happened to the old keeper of the place, told by a local man John Dobson, and which cannot go untold:
“William Butterfield…always opened the door first thing in the morning, and he did this without ever noticing anything out of the common until one beautiful, quiet, midsummer morning. As he ascended the brow of the hill he noticed rather particularly how the birds sang so sweetly, and cheerily, and vociferously, making the valley echo with the music of their voices. And in thinking it over afterwards he remembered noticing them, and considered this sign attributable to the after incident. As he drew near the wells he took out of his pocket the massive iron key, and placed it in the lock; but there was something “canny’ about it, and instead of the key lifting the lever it only turned round and round in the lock. He drew the key back to see that it was alright.and declared, “It was the same that he had on the previous night hung up behind his own door down at home.” Then he endeavored to push the door open, and no sooner did he push it slightly ajar than it was as quickly pushed back again. At last, with one supreme effort, he forced it perfectly open, and back it flew with a great bang! Then ‘whirr, whirr, whirr’, such a noise and sight! All over the water and dipping into it was a lot of little creatures, all dressed in green from head to foot, none of them more than eighteen inches high, and making a chatter and jabber thoroughly unintelligible. They seemed to be taking a bath, only they bathed with all their clothes on. Soon, however, one or two of them began to make off, bounding over the walls like squirrels. Finding they were all making ready for decamping, and wanting to have a word with them, he shouted at the top of his voice—indeed, he declared afterwards, he couldn’t find anything else to say or do—”Hallo there!” Then away the whole tribe went, helter skelter, toppling and tumbling, heads over heels, heels over heads, and all the while making a noise not unlike a disturbed nest of young partridges. The sight was so unusual that he declared he either couldn’t or daren’t attempt to rush after them. He stood as still and confounded, he said, as old Jeremiah Lister down there at Wheatley did, half a century previous, when a witch from Ilkley put an ash riddle upon the side of the River Wharfe, and sailed across in it to where he was standing.1 When the well had got quite clear of these strange beings he ran to the door and looked to see where they had fled, but nothing was to be seen. He ran back into the bath to see if they had left anything behind; but there was nothing; the water lay still and clear as he had left it on the previous night. He thought they might perhaps have left some of their clothing behind in their haste, but he could find none, and so he gave up looking, and commenced his usual routine of preparing the baths; not, however, without trotting to the door once or twice to see if they might be coming back; but he saw them no more.”
Along with sightings of ‘little people’, ghosts have been seen at the White Wells. It is thought that the strange apparition which presented itself to a householder here in 1982—the ghostly figure of a young girl, weeping at the water’s edge—was that of little Ann Harper who, in August 1793, at the age of nine, drowned in the well when bathing.
Earthlight (UFO) phenomena have also been reported here over the years—the most dramatic of which was alleged to have taken place at the top of the slope above the original source of the wells in 1989, when a police officer reported and photographed a “little green man” on the geological prominence just behind the wells. He went on to narrate a typical UFO ‘abduction’ event, but much of this was psychogenic and the mythic undertones echo precisely the medieval lore of abduction by faerie.
The Fortean researcher David Barclay found in his dowsing investigations here that there were spiral patterns all round the place. “At first these were in no order,” he wrote, “but through a period of over twenty visits to the place, I established markers which indicated the spiralling patterns of the energy” within the Earth immediately adjacent to the White Wells. These spirals were nearly always in a clockwise direction. In further studies here, he and I came to know a Mrs Elsie Hill, who had done some quite striking automatic drawings of the place. “In her pictures,” he wrote, “appear a prominence of spiral-forms and faerie creatures which, she believes, inhabit White Wells.”
Hmmmm…..
…to be continued…
References:
Bennett, Paul, The White Wells, Ilkley Moor, Heathen Earth: Keighley 2009.
Bogg, Edmund, Upper Wharfeland, James Miles: Leeds 1904.
Collyer, Robert & Turner, J. Horsfall, Ilkley, Ancient and Modern, William Walker: Otley 1885.
Denbigh, Kathleen, A Hundred British Spas, Spa Publications: London 1981.
Granville, A.B., Spas of England, Henry Colburn: London 1841.
Oakley, G.T., Verbeia: The Goddess ofWharfedale, Rooted Media: Leeds 1999.
Shaw, Thomas, The History of Wharfedale, Otley 1830.
Short, Thomas, The Natural, Experimental and Medicinal History of the Mineral Waters of Derbyshire, Lincolnshire and Yorkshire, privately printed: London 1724.
Speight, Harry, Upper Wharfedale, Elliott Stock: London 1900.
Whelan, Edna and Taylor, Ian, Yorkshire Holy Wells and Sacred Springs, Northern Lights: York 1989.
Various routes to this giant tomb, which happens to be a way off the roads (thankfully!). Probably the easiest way is from the Menston-side: up Moor Lane, turn left at the end, go 200 yards and take the track onto the moor. Just keep walking. If you hit the rock-outcrop nearly a mile on, you’ve gone past your target. Turn back for about 400 yards and walk (south) into the heather. You’re damn close!
Archaeology & History
Great Skirtful of Stones cairn looking east to Otley Chevin
Due north of the Skirtful Spring water source, this is one of Ilkley Moor’s major prehistoric sites: ‘major’ for a number of reasons – not least of which is the size of the thing! Although getting somewhat overgrown these days as more of the heathlands encroach the mass of rocks that constitute the central ‘tomb’, it is still a formidable heap. Another reason this site is of importance is its position in the landscape: it can be seen as the peak or ‘nipple’ on the landscape from considerable distances north, south and east of here, rising up on the horizon and catching the eye from many miles away. This was obviously quite a deliberate function of the site when it was first constructed – thought to be in the Bronze or Iron Age period (sadly we have no decent excavation here to tell us just when it was made). Another reason for its importance is its position relative to a once huge prehistoric graveyard immediately east. And right next to it we also find a curious circular monument that has never been properly excavated, whose function is unknown. It is also the seeming focal point of at least one, though possibly three prehistoric trackways: one of which goes right past it, though swerves on its southern edge quite deliberately so as to not touch the monument. This trackway appears to have been a ceremonial ‘road of the dead,’ along which our ancestors were carried, resting for some reason at the nearby Roms Law, or Grubstones Circle, a few hundred yards to the west.
Wrongly ascribed as a “round barrow” by archaeologist Tim Darvill (1988), the Great Skirtful cairn was named in boundary changes made in 1733, where one Richard Barret of Hawksworth told that the site was “never heard go by any other name than Skirtfull of Stones.”
In 1901 there was an article in the local ‘Shipley Express‘ newspaper — and repeated in Mr Laurence’s (1991) fine History of Menston and Hawksworth — which gave the following details:
“Mr Turner led the way across Burley Moor to the Great Skirtful of Stones, a huge cairn of small boulders, nearly a hundred tons on a heap, although for centuries loads have been taken away to mend the trackways across the moor… The centre of the cairn is now hollow, as it was explored many years ago, and from the middle human bones were taken and submitted to Canon Greenwell and other archaeologists” – though I have found little in Greenwell’s works that adequately describe the finds here. Near the centre of the giant cairn is a large stone, of more recent centuries, which once stood upright and upon which is etched the words, “This is Rumbles Law.” The Shipley Express article goes on: “Mr Turner explained that ‘law’ was always used in the British sense for a hill, and Rumbles Hill, or cairn, was a conspicuous boundary mark for many centuries. He had found in the Burley Manor Rolls, two centuries back, that on Rogation Day, when the boundaries were beaten by the inhabitants, they met on this hill, and describing their boundaries, they concluded the nominy by joining in the words, “This is Rumbles Law.””
Great Skirtful on 1851 map
Several other giant cairns like this used to be visible on the moors, but over the years poor archaeological management has led to their gradual decline (and in editing this site profile in 2016, have to report that poor archaeological and moorland management is eating into and gradually diminishing this monument to this day). We still have the Great Skirtful’s little brother, the Little Skirtful of Stones, a half-mile north of here. The very depleted remains of the once-huge Nixon’s Station giant cairn can still be seen (just!) at the very top of Ilkley Moor 1½ miles (2.65km) west.* And we have the pairing of the giant round cairn and long cairn a few miles west on Bradley Moor, near Skipton. The tradition of such giant tombs on these hills was obviously an important one to our ancestors.
Folklore
We find a curious entry in the diaries of the Leeds historian Ralph Thoresby, in the year 1702, which seems to describe the Great Skirtful of Stones, adding a rather odd bit of folklore. (if it isn’t the Great Skirtful, we’re at a loss to account for the place described.) Mr Thoresby told how he and Sir Walter Hawksworth went for a walk on Hawksworth’s land and said how,
“he showed us a monumental heap of stones, in memory of three Scotch boys slain there by lightning, in his grandfather’s, Sir Richard Hawksworth’s time, as an old man attested to Sir Walter, who being then twelve years of age helped to lead the stones.”
As far as I’m aware, this old story of the three Scottish boys is described nowhere else.
Like many giant cairns, the Great Skirtful has a familiar creation myth to account for its appearance. In one version we hear that it was made when the local giant, Rombald (who lived on this moor) and his un-named wife were quarrelling and she dropped a few stones she was carrying in her apron. A variation swaps Rombald’s wife with the devil, who also, carelessly, let the mass of stones drop from his own apron to create the ancient cairn we still see today.
According to Jessica Lofthouse’s North Country Folklore (1976), a Norse giant by the name of Rawmr, “fell fighting against the Britons of Elmet and is buried, they say, on Hawksworth Moor” – i.e., the southeastern section of Rombald’s Moor, very probably at the Great Skirtful of Stones. I’ve yet to explore the history and etymology of the name Rawmr…
…to be continued…
References:
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Chieveley 2001.
Cowling, Eric T., Rombald’s Way, William Walker: Otley 1946.
Darvill, Timothy, Ancient Britain, AA: Basingstoke 1988.
Laurence, Alastair, A History of Menston and Hawksworth, Smith Settle: Otley 1991.
* Whoever is/was supposed to be responsible for the care of the Nixon’s Station giant cairn monument should be taken to task as it’s been virtually obliterated since when I first came here 30 years ago. Which useless local archaeologist and/or council official is responsible for its destruction? Who allowed it to happen? Why are Ilkley Moor’s prehistoric monument’s being so badly looked after by those who are paid to ensure their maintenance? Are their heads up their arses, in the sand, or—don’t tell me—the prawn sandwiches are to blame!?
Not hard to locate. From Colne head up to Foulridge via the skipton Road and as you get to the middle of the town ask find the cenotaph just off the main road.
Archaeology & History
The Maiden or Tailor’s Cross, Foulridge
The Maiden or Tailor’s Cross has at least two old traditions attached to the site, which local historians think originate from the Civil War period. The first tells of a Royalist tailor who – sensibly – refused to make uniforms for Oliver Cromwell’s traitorous soldiers; but as a result, the poor tailor was shot by the troops and the remains of his body were placed over the old stone cross as a warning to his fellow workers. If you look closely on the cross you can see a crude carving of what looks like a pair of scissors or shears, and it is this carved symbol which has seemingly given birth to the legend of the tailor. There may, of course, be some truth in the story; but the carved shears is more likely an old Masonic carving – though quite who did it and when isn’t known.
The other legend is the one which apparently gave birth to the title of the Maiden’s Cross. It tells of a certain Margaret Burnard whose husband went into battle (on the side of the treacherous Cromwell), but who agreed before he set out that she should wait for him for to return by the side of the old cross; and this she did each and every day, waiting for her husband, Robert, to come back from the Civil War. But he was one of the many who died in the Battle of Marston Moor. However, Margaret refused to accept his death and returned to the cross each evening to their agreed meeting place. The story goes that Margaret herself herself was eventually killed by Royalist soldiers – and her body was buried at the cross where she had so often waited in vain.
It seems likely that this old cross originally replaced an old ‘heathen’ site in Foulridge. Several such spots were known here, though virtually nothing now remains. But notices of these sites will appear on TNA in the near future.
References:
Oldland, F., The Story of Foulridge, PHCL: Pendle 1990.
From Ilkley, head up the road towards White Wells and keep going along the road. Shortly before the road becomes a dirt-track, just over a small stone bridge with gorse all around, there’s a noticeable footpath that runs west onto the moors, going roughly parallel to the wealthy houses by the moorside. Keep going along this footpath and you’ll hit the recently unneeded modern creation of a large sandy trackway (and excessive litter that it’s created) that takes you straight to the curious railings stuck upon some rocks a quarter-mile away. That’s where you’re going!
Archaeology & History
This famous carving was first described as a ‘swastika’ by a Mr J. Thornton Dale around 1880 – and the name seemed to catch on damn quick! The stone had become established with this title at the end of that decade, and seemed immortalized with the name when J. Horsfall Turner wrote about it in the very popular history book he co-authored with the reverend Collyer in Ilkley Ancient and Modern. (1885) By then, comparisons had already been drawn with the acknowledged swastika symbol in Tossene, Sweden, and by the time Harry Speight described it in his colossal Upper Wharfedale (1900), other near-identical European swastika carvings had been found in Valcamonica, northern Italy. (though these lacked the ‘tail’ found on Ilkley’s carving)
J.R. Allen’s drawing of Swastika StoneEric Cowling’s drawing of Swastika Stone
Earlier images of the swastika symbol can be found in most continents, but the earliest known example appears to be the paleolithic swastika carvings from the Ukraine, etched on pieces of ivory and dating from between 18,000-15,000 BC. Some swastikas have been found carved on mammoth tusks!
Invariably in modern history it is its mythic association of the swastika to certain political imbeciles which troubles many people, but this needs to be set into a much more ancient historical context. The symbol ostensibly relates to sacred notions of the cosmos in all the non-literate cultures where it appears. Numerous surveys by comparative religious scholars isolated the nature of the design many years ago. The Leeds Buddhist, Steve Hart, said that Ilkley’s Swastika Stone:
“to a Buddhist should be a sonorous gatha (a sutra or verse), a plenitude of transcendental boddhisattvic vision. The swirling wheel of the four arms suggests the four realms as experienced by Jains, upanishadic sages and ancient Buddists. They ARE samsara. The samsara is resolved into the nirvana at the hub. The four realms are the human realm, god realm, hell realm and the nature realm. There are no clear delineated demarcations between these realms. All interpenetrate.”
(Images of the popularised ‘modern’ swastika – a huge misnomer – can be found on several church bells in Yorkshire, where they were used as charms to protect against lightning, following in the mythic fashion of Thor. These swastikas date from the 15th century.)
Evan Hadingham’s rubbing of the Swastika Stone
I first saw this carving when I was 10-years old and it had one helluvan effect on me! I stood and stared at it (or rather gazed, without thought…) for some length of time, knowing that I’d seen this somewhere before* and that it had some considerable importance – though about what, I knew not! The cups in the design align north-south and east-west. The northern line points directly at Simon’s Seat on the northern skyline. The eastern axis points directly at Almscliffe Crag, above which the equinox sun seems to rise from here.
For the real alignment fanatics, check out the alignment from Twelve Apostles to here: on the date of the last major lunar standstill (occurrent every 18.6 years), the moon set over the cairn at Lanshaw Lad. It wasn’t until I got home and checked the extension of this moonset line, that I realised if you follow it further along the course, you hit the Swastika Stone bang on! Though this is probably just a coincidence (we do have hundreds of cup-and-rings on these moors, so it’s bound to hit one or more of them).
The Swastika in 1930, with explanatory board
In this Swastika Stone, the curious single ‘outlying’ cup-and-ring at the edge of the four spiralling arms is very probably the point from which the four-arms originated and not the other way round. In traditional cultures and early cosmogenic patterns the world over, the cosmos itself emerged from the ’round’, the singular, the point, or uroboros — and this is what this Swastika Stone appears to represent here: the cosmos emerging from the singularity, giving birth to the world and the four cardinal points. Such an element is a simple one and is found in Creation myths the world over. (For those of you who aint into using psychedelics at sites, a good overview of this idea is in Erich Neumann’s Origins & History of Consciousness [although there’s no reference to this symbol] and which should be read by anyone pretending an interest in the nature of the archaic mind. It’s a good work on the psychology of the Dreamtime.)
As some local Ilkley folk are probably aware, a copy of the Swastika Stone carving was executed in the latter-half of the 19th century, probably by a local chap called Ambrose Collins, not far from the original swastika at the edge of the woodland. Some images and a brief history of this copied swastika and associated cup-markings will be published in due course on the Rombalds Moor Project website.
Other important cup-and-ring petroglyphs that are worth visiting on the moor with unique carved symbols in them include the Hanging Stones, the Idol Stone, Haystack Rock, Badger Stone and many many more.
Note:
A fella who used the pseudonym of ‘Pad’ suggests that the carving is only a few centuries old, and compares it to other much more recent etchings on these moors, where the erosion has been of no greater or lesser force. The suggestion has been made about other carvings on these moors and whilst I have an open mind about this, if this is the case, we would have to relate the same reasoning to countless other carving on these hills. In which case, a great deal of cup-and-ring art would have to be redesignated as medieval in nature.
References:
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Milverton 2001.
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS: Wakefield 2003.
Collyer, Robert & Turner, J. Horsfall, Ilkley, Ancient and Modern, William Walker: Otley 1885.
Cowling, Eric T., Rombald’s Way, William Walker: Otley 1946.
Hadingham, Evan, Ancient Carvings in Britain, Garnstone: London 1974.
Hedges, John, The Carved Rocks on Rombalds Moor, WYMCC: Wakefield 1986.
Pennick, Nigel, The Swastika, Bar Hill: Cambridge 1980.
Speight, Harry, Upper Wharfedale, Elliott Stock: London 1900.
Wilson, Thomas, The Swastika – The Earliest Known Symbol and its Migrations, Smithsonian: Washington 1896.
* although I’d never seen the carving before, I had of course seen its archetypal manifestation in the shapes in Nature: spiral galazies, polar rotation (I was a budding astronomer as a kid!), hair growth from the crown, petals, swirling clouds, etc, etc. The Swastika, as we know, is representative of the creative spark itself: the life-essence, emerging from the centre and manifesting itself in the four worlds, which are its emergent arms.
Links:
Reclaim the Swastika – A fine website which is into doing just what it says on the tin!
