This is an awesome beast! You can either approach it from Nettlehole Ridge ‘stone circle’ as I did, or take the more sensible approach and begin from Embsay village, walking up the path towards Embsay reservoir and onto the moorland heights of Crookrise Crag, 1350 feet above sea level. Worra view! But keep walking a little more, downhill, and it’ll hit you right in the face!
Archaeology & History
Known as an abode of the little people in the 19th century and shown on the earliest Ordnance Survey map of the region, I know of no previous accounts of this giant elongated boulder, forty feet long and nearly the same size as our legendary Hitching Stone that’s nestled below the small cliffs. The boulder is surrounded by what seems like cairn-material on all sides (though it doesn’t look prehistoric). You’re looking straight west from here, right at the three small paps of Sharp Haw, Rough Haw and Flasby Fell. If you like huge rocky outcrops, this (and others nearby) will make your day!
Folklore
Said to have been the abode of the little people in ages gone by; though even an old chap we met on our wander here told us how the legends it once held “have died with the old folk it seems.”
The ancient and once sacred water source was described in local place-names such as Holywell strete and Holywellbrugge from the 13th Century onwards; yet despite it being at the heart of one of the cradles of the English church, there are only scant accounts of the legendary well down the centuries. The most detailed essay on this site was written by Tony Haynes (1986) in the specialist holy well journal, Source, more than 20 years ago. Haynes tells as much as it known of the site, saying:
“Late in the seventeenth century, when John Churchill, future Duke of Marlborough, pulled down his wife’s house and built a new mansion in the middle of Holywell Hill, thus creating a major diversion, the Holy Well was a feature of his terraced gardens. Maps of the period show the site of the well to be a focal point of his lawns.
“In 1815, Shaw’s guide to the town states, ‘The holy-well is still held in some esteem for its purity and salubrious qualities’. The Duke’s residence later became the property of the Earl Spencers. It eventually fell into ruin and was demolished in 1837, and the original route of Holywell Hill was restored, no doubt much to the relief of contemporary coach and wagon drivers. After this time, the grounds were left to decay. Ten years later little remained of the gardens but a fishpond and the Duke’s ‘canal’ marking the original course of the River Ver.
“Of the Holy Well, in his History of St Albans published in 1893, Charles Ashdowne laments that: “It is now remembered only as a muddy depression, sheltered by the remains of a dilapidated wall and a mournful specimen of blackthorn.” Eventually the land was acquired by the St Albans School for Boys as a playing field. “The exigencies of athleticism necessitated the ground being levelled and turfed over,” Ashdown continues, “and it is much regretted that there is nothing to mark the site of what was essentially one of the most ancient of English Holy Wells.”
“This is confirmed by a Miss Lightfoot of Holywell Hill. In 1960, when she was 85, she wrote in a letter to Hertfordshire Countryside magazine: ‘I remember the well quite well, for as a child I often went round it. It was surrounded by a fence, inside was a tree, water and weeds – not very inviting.’
“The ‘Old boys’ of St Albans School recall, about fifty years ago, there being a concrete slab at one end of their football pitch which they knew as the site of the well. Their playing field fell into disuse in the 1960’s, but the exact site of the well was lost long before this.”
Naff all is visible here nowadays, apart from some concrete square bitta brickwork that betrays any sense whatsoever of a once sacred site. Very disappointing indeed…..
Folklore
As with a great many British holy wells, this all-but-forgotten site was named after one of the early christian martyrs — in this case from as early as the late 3rd century AD. A number of early folklore texts describe St. Albans story, with Vernon Brelsford (1958) telling:
“Tradition states that on his way to execution he walked up a neighbouring hill where he prayed for water to quench his thirst, whereupon a fountain of water sprang up under his feet. Here he was beheaded on June 23, AD 303.”
This date indicates the site probably replaced an earlier, heathen midsummer solstice custom at, or near this spot. Another tale tells that when St. Alban had been executed, the saint’s head rolled down the hill and into the waters of the well below. Mr Haynes (1986) described other early folklore which seems to relate to St. Alban’s Well, telling:
“An early reference to the well can be found in the writings of Brompton who lived in the time of Richard II. He recorded that the father of King Arthur, a British Prince, was severely wounded in the battles with the Saxons:
‘A long time he lay confined to his bed until at length he was cured by resorting to a well or spring not far distant from the city. at that time reputed to be salubrious; and for that reason, and for the cures thereby performed, esteemed holy; and blessed in a peculiar manner with the flavour of Heaven.’
“Two devout sisters built a shelter near the well. They served the weary pilgrims who trudged up the steep hill towards Alban’s shrine in the abbey, by dipping, or ‘sopping’ their bread in the holy water and offering it to the thirsty travellers. Hence was founded Sopwell Priory, nearby.”
References:
Brelsford, Vernon, Superstitious Survivals, Centaur Press: London 1958.
Gover, J.E.B., et al, The Place-Names of Hertfordshire, Cambridge University Press 1938.
Highlighted on the 1854 Ordnance Survey map close to the township boundary line as Adam & Eve’s Oak, between Brierley and South Kirkby, I can’t find too much about this once great tree. However the Wakefield historian W.S. Banks (1871) told us the following:
“Upon the common at Ringston Hill grows the remarkable ‘old Adam’ oak, much decreased in size in late years. It is an ancient and large tree measuring twenty-seven feet in girth at a yard above the ground. The trunk is hollow and the north side is broken away. Most of the branches are also gone. In 1868 a very large branch was blown off by the wind; but on the southerly side are still some very vigorous limbs.”
Even when Banks wrote this he said how the tree “must be many centuries old.” In the time of King Charles II there used to be an old inn by Adam’s Oak at the foot of Ringston Hill, where the famous highwayman, Nevison (much-loved by many Yorkshire-folk because of his Robin-Hood-like character), used to stay. The inn was owned by one Adam Hawksworth, but was ordered “to have his sign taken down for harbouring Nevison.”
Folklore
W.S. Banks also wrote of this once great tree:
“The people at Brierley tell of Nevison the highwayman lodging in it and hiding stolen treasures in it, things which probably did not happen, though Nevison’s name is connected with Ringston Hill.”
The treasure legend may have more to do with the adjacent stone circle, as we find ‘treasure’ a common motif at such places.
References:
Banks, W.S., Walks in Yorkshire: Wakefield and its Neighbourhood, Longmans, Green Co.: London 1871.
Very little is known about this forgotten heathen water source. It was described in some notes attached on a piece of paper accompanying John Warburton’s description of Lee Hall and its surroundings. The notes were first printed in an early edition of Archaeologia Aeliana and subsquently included in Binnall & Dodds’ (1942) fine survey on the holy wells of the region. It’s exact whereabouts appears to be lost, and may be either the small pool across from the present Hall, or a small spring found in the edge of the small copse of trees just east of Lee Hall Farm. Anyone know for sure?
Folklore
Written verbatim in that dyslexic olde english beloved of old folklorists like misself, the only bitta folklore said of this spring of water told:
“At the Lee hall an exclent spring, the vertue is such that if the lady of the Hall dip aney children that have the rickets or any other groone destemper, it is either a speedy cure of death. The maner and form is as followeth: The days of dipping are on Whitsunday Even, on Midsumer Even, on Saint Peeter’s Even. They must bee dipt in the well before the sun rise and in the River Tine after the sun bee sett: then the shift taken from the child and thrown into the river and if it swim…child liveth, but if it sink dyeth.”
The latter sentence echoing the crazy folklore of the christians to identify witches in bygone days!
References:
Binnall, P.B.G. & Dodds, M. Hope, ‘Holy Wells in Northumberland and Durham,’ in Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle-upon-Tyne (4th Series), 10:1, July 1942.
Holy Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SE 295 329
Archaeology & History
In the Holbeck area of Leeds, one of the three spa wells was previously patronised to this mythical saint, whose wells profuse in this part of the world. St. Helen’s Well (later becoming the Holbeck Spa Well) was found at the appropriately named St. Helens Bridge. Ralph Thoresby (1715) wrote of the place: a supposed medicinal holy well, it previously had a chapel by it, of which no trace is seen today. John Mayhall (1860) also mentioned this “medicinal well,” but told little more. It was Andrea Smith (1982), more than a century later, who wrote the most about the place:
“In connection with the well by St.Helen’s Bridge, Holbeck, (Thoresby) refers to “another ancient fabrik called St. Helen’s,” but there is a difficulty in deciding exactly what he means by ancient; it is taken here as meaning more than two hundred years old. This suggests, then, that by St. Helen’s Bridge there was once a well and chapel which gave rise to the dedication and which was probably a Medieval foundation, considering the popularity of St. Helen at that time.”
Both of these sites have long since disappeared. The well eventually became known as a local Spa Well, and was found to possess a high sulphur content.
References:
Mayhall, John, The Annals of Yorkshire, Joseph Johnson: Leeds 1860.
Smith, Andrea, ‘Holy Wells Around Leeds, Bradford & Pontefract,’ in Wakefield Historical Journal 9, 1982.
Thoresby, Ralph, Ducatus Leodiensis: or the Topography of the Ancient and Populous Town and Parish of Leedes, Robinson & Holdsworth: Leeds 1816.
From Killin, take the Glen Lochay Road past the Moirlanich Longhouse, but keep on for another mile, and take the track on the left up to Murlaganmore cottages. As the track turns right of the tree-line, cross the field (left) up towards the open gate as if you’re going to the Murlaganmore 2 carving, where you’ll see this large flattish rock in the grasses about 100 yards before it.
Archaeology & History
When we visited this old boulder last week, we had the misfortune of grey days and dark clouds throwing their faded light across this cup-marked rock, not really letting us see with any clarity the many cups which pepper (mainly) the edges of the rock. But the cups are faded anyway, so accounts tell, and the 15 which we counted were same 15 recorded about 100 years ago in C.G. Cash’s (1912) survey. There, he described this old stone as,
“about 200 yards south of the house, in the middle of the uppermost pasture. It is a large block of quartz schist stuck thick with garnets, and bearing fifteen cup-marks, only one of which — 3 inch in diameter and 1 inch deep — is really well defined, and several of which are faint.”
But despite the grey day (She was absolutely teeming with rain half of the time!), I found the setting here absolutely gorgeous, with the many shades of old trees and the clear blood of pure waters falling through the landscape. And, without doubt, there are other carved stones nearby that have yet to capture the attention of surveyors. You can smell them!
References:
Cash, C.G., ‘Archaeological Gleanings from Killin,’ in PSAS 46, 1911-12.
Royal Commission on Ancient & Historical Monuments, Scotland, The Archaeological Sites and Monuments of Stirling District, RCAHMS: Edinburgh 1979.
Take the same direction to reach the Murlaganmore Footprint, continuing up past the cottages. 100 yards on, where there’s a bend in the track, cross the field on your left and go thru the gate higher up the slope. Stick to the small rough ‘path’, past the Murlaganmore 1 carving for nearly 100 yards, where a small rocking-stone-like rock is ahead of you. That’s it!
Archaeology & History
This stone’s in a lovely setting, with the craggy rise of Creag Mhor and the waterfall of Airigh an Fhraoich up the rich coloured slope behind it. But the carving here is a simple one, with perhaps only 2 cup-markings etched on the stone’s upper surface, as the photo here shows. Tis a lovely setting though, and there are other carved rocks living nearby which aint yet seen the pages of any record-books.
It was first mentioned in C.G. Cash’s (1912) essay on the antiquities of Killin and district, who told that here was “one well-cut cup, 3 inches in diameter and 1½ inches deep, and also a doubtful or faint one.” The carving was later listed in the Royal Commission’s Stirling District report (1979) as simply “a boulder bearing cup-marks.”
References:
Cash, C.G., ‘Archaeological Gleanings from Killin,’ in PSAS 46, 1911-12.
Royal Commission on Ancient & Historical Monuments, Scotland, The Archaeological Sites and Monuments of Stirling District, RCAHMS: Edinburgh 1979.
From Killin, take the small road to the Moirlanich Longhouse, but keep on for another mile. Just before the road crosses the river, stop! In the fields above you to the left are a few trees and some rocks. Walk uphill till you’re nearly level with the cottages at Murlaganmore (the gate’s about 10-15 yards away) just above the gorze bushes and check out the long rock. If you can’t see it at first, bimble about till you find it. You’re just about on it!
Archaeology & History
Although shown on modern OS-maps as a ‘Sculptured Rock’ and included in the Canmore survey, when we visited this site a few days ago I have to say that unless evidence to the contrary can be obtained, this ‘site’ should be declassified as an archaeological remnant of the prehistoric period. It appears to be natural — though could have had some agricultural purpose or origin in centuries past.
The ‘footprint’ appears to have been described first of all by F.W.L. Thomas (1879) in his essay on the inaugural seat of Kings at Dunadd, where a similar footprint is found at the top of the fort. Thomas thought that this curious footprint could have had a similar function — though even folklore hereabouts seems silent on such a matter. The site is included in Ron Morris’ 1981 survey, where he too described it as “probably natural but just possibly man-improved.”
References:
Morris, Ronald W.B., The Prehistoric Rock Art of Southern Scotland, BAR: Oxford 1981.
Thomas, F.W.L., ‘Dunadd, Glassary, Argyllshire: The Place of Inauguration of the Dalriadic Kings’, in Proc Soc Antiq Scot, vol.13, 1879.
Truly troublesome if you aint into walking. Many ways up, but the easiest has to be the zigzagging trackway up from the valley bottom just by The Green a few hundred yards past Lochay Power Station, up the southern edge of Creag na Cailleach. At the end of the trackway, take the stream uphill for a few hundred yards and watch out for the rocky rise to your right (east). Head for it and check out the rocks there. You’ll find it!
Archaeology & History
I’m not sure that anything’s previously been written about this curious single cup-marked boulder. I say ‘curious’, simply because of the location and position of the clear cup-mark on this near-gigantic piece of embedded stone. We walked upon the rocky outcrop south of Creag na Cailleach (above the tree-line where the land levels out) and first saw the cup-marking at the top-end of this huge rock (amidst a number of others) on the large rise a coupla hundred yards west of Allt na Ceardaich. And as the carved cup was on the top-end of the boulder, I was expecting to find much more of the rock with other motifs scattering its body — but was amazed to find that this was the only single cup-marking on an otherwise huge stone. A mixture of bewilderment and disappointment came over me as I shook my head in disbelief that only a single cup had been scribed into an otherwise massive rock.
However, the light was poor with low cloud and it was nearing sunset, so there may have been other aspects to this carving which we missed out on. One other ‘possible’ cup-mark might have been done, but it seemed very dubious even in the poor light. I was all for having another look at it the following day; but wandering halfway up a mountain just to see if this was the only cup-marking on this outcrop was summat my daughter wasn’t into doing! So the site must await another mad cup-and-ring-crazed traveller on another day to get a more detailed inspection! George – are you out there anytime soon!?
Head up to the Cow & Calf Rocks and walk to the large disused quarry round the back (west). You’ll notice a scattered copse of old pine trees on the edge where the hill slope drops back down towards Ilkley; and there, two raised hillocks (unquarried bits) rise up where the pine trees grow. The carvings are on the flat rocks atop of one of the two hillocks. If you’re walking up from Ilkley, once you’ve crossed the cattle-grid in the road and the moorland slope opens up above you, just walk uphill towards the copse of trees and watch out for the rock outcrop in the picture here.
Archaeology & History
Very well-known to locals, folklorists and archaeologists alike, the remains of these old glyphs have caught the attention of artists, historians and Forteans alike for the images and tales surrounding them. It was obvious that in times past, that the carved remains that we see today would have extended considerably further, but the quarrying destroyed much of it. Indeed, we’re lucky to have this small section of carved rock still intact!
The rocks were first described as the Hanging Stones in the local parish records of 1645, and their name probably derives from the old-english word hangra, meaning ‘a wood on a steep hill-side,’ which is very apt here. The first known description of the site as possessing cup-and-rings appears to have been in a small article in the local Leeds Mercury newspaper in 1871. Several years later J. Romilly Allen (1879) wrote a lengthier descripton of the site:
“The crags from which these masses have been detached are known by the name of hanging stones, and at their eastern extremity is a large quarry. Between this quarry and the overhanging edge of the cliff a portion of the horizontal surface of the rock was some years ago bared of turf, thereby disclosing the group of cup and ring sculptures shown on the accompanying drawing. It will be seen that the design consists of twenty-five cups of various sizes, from 1 to 3 inches in diameter. Seven of the cups are surrounded by incomplete rings, many of them being connected by an irregular arrangement of grooves. The pattern and execution are of such a rude nature as almost to suggest the idea of the whole having been left in an unfinished state. The sides of the grooves are not by any means smooth, and would seem to have been produced by a process of vertical punching, rather than by means of a tool held sideways.”
Allen and other archaeologists from this period saw some considerable relevance in the position of this and the many other cup-and-rings along this geological ridge, telling:
“The views obtained from all points over Wharfedale are exceedingly grand, and this fact should not be lost sight of in studying remains that may have been connected with religious observances, of which Nature worship formed a part.”
A common sense point that seemed long-lost to many archaeologists, adrift as they went in their measurements of lithics and samples of data charts for quite a number of years. In recent years however, this animistic simplicity has awakened again and they’ve brought this attribute back into their vogue. Let’s hope they don’t lose sight of it again!
There are tons of other archaeological references to this fine set of carvings, but none add anything significant to anyone’s understanding of the nature of the designs. We must turn to psychoanthropology, comparative religion and folklore if we want to even begin making any realistic ‘sense’ (if that’s the right word!) of this and other cup-and-rings. Curiously, the nature of this and other carvings is a remit archaeology has yet to correctly engage itself in.
On a very worrying note, we need to draw attention to what amounts to the local Ilkley Parish Council officially sanctioning vandalism on the Hanging Stones, other prehistoric carvings and uncarved rocks across Ilkley Moor. As we can see on a couple of photos here, recent vandalism has been enacted on this supposedly protected monument. Certain ‘officials’ occasionally get their headlines in the local Press acting as if they’re concerned about the welfare of the ancient monuments up here, but in all honesty, some of them really don’t give a damn. The recent vandalism on this stone and others has now been officially recognised as an acceptable “tradition” and a form of — get this! — “twentieth / twenty-first century informal unauthorised carving” and has been deemed acceptable by Ilkley Parish Council as a means to validate more unwanted carving on the moorland “in the name of art”! Of course, their way of looking at this has been worth quite a lot of money to a small group of already wealthy people. But with Tom Lonsdale and Ilkley Council validating or redesignated ‘vandalism’ as “twenty-first century informal unauthorised carvings”, this legitimizes and encourages others to follow in their shallow-minded ignorant footpath, enabling others with little more than a pretentious ‘care’ for both environment and monuments to add their own form of ‘art’ on cup-and-ring carvings, or other rocks on the moors.
You can see in some recent vandalism — sorry, traditional “twentieth / twenty-first century informal unauthorised carving” — at the top-right of the Hanging Stones photo to the side, a very ornate ‘Celtic’-style addition, akin to the quality carved by well-known stone-mason Pip Hall who, coincidentally, has now been granted a lot of money to “officially” carve her own work on another stone further down the valley from here. With Miss Hall, Mr Lonsdale, poet Simon Armitage and Ilkley Parish Council each playing their individual part in encouraging what is ostensibly vandalism…errr…sorry – I keep getting it wrong – I mean traditional “twentieth / twenty-first century informal unauthorised carving” on the Hanging Stones monument and other cup-and-ring stones on the moor, we can perhaps expect a growth industry in this field…..especially if you’re wanting to make more money for yourself in the name of art or poetry. And if you apply to Rachel Feldberg of the Ilkley Arts Festival, you may get good money for your work… Seriously! (this is no joke either)
Please contact Ilkley Parish Council and other relevant authorities and express your dismay at their lack of insight and concern for the knock-on effects of their decisions on this matter. Other plans to infringe even further onto Ilkley Moor are in the business pipeline…
Folklore
Just underneath the carved overhanging rocks (walk off the knoll to the bottom of the rocks, facing the town), is a small recess or sheltered cavity which, told Harry Speight (1900),has
“From time immemorial (been) known as ‘Fairies’ Kirk’, and traditions of it having been tenanted by those tiny sprites, the fairies, still exist among old people in the neighbourhood.”
Tradition goes on to tell that when the Saxons arrived here, they were wont to build a christian church by the Hanging Stones, but the little people strongly resented this and fought hard against the invading forces. As the Saxons started building the edifice of the new religion, during the night the fairy folk took down the stones and moved them into the valley below. In the morning when the Saxons found this had happened, they carried the stones back up to begin building again; but each night, the fairy folk emerged and again took the stones to the valley bottom again. Eventually, after much hardship, the Saxon folk gave up the idea of building on the Fairie’s Kirk, as it was known, and the church that still remains in Ilkley centre was decided as an easier place to build their edifice.
Traditions such as this (of fairies moving stones back to whence they came, or away from ancient archaeological sites) are found throughout Britain and appear to be simple representations of the indigenous peasant hill-folk who strongly objected to their own sacred sites (rocks, trees, wells, etc) being supplanted by the invading religious force.
In more recent years the observation of curious light phenomena over these rocks have been seen, both over here and the Cow & Calf Rocks…
…to be continued…
References:
Allen, J.R., ‘The Prehistoric Rock Sculptures of Ilkley,’ in Journal of the British Archaeological Association, vol.35, 1879.
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Milveton 2001.
Bogg, Edmund, Higher Wharfeland, James Miles: Leeds 1904.
Collyer, Robert & Turner, J. Horsfall, Ilkley: Ancient and Modern, William Walker: Otley 1885.
Gelling, Margaret, Place-Names in the Landscape, Phoenix: London 2000.
Hedges, John (ed.), The Carved Rocks of Rombald’s Moor, WYMCC: Wakefield 1986.
Leeds Mercury, ‘Prehistoric Remains at Ilkley’, 20 April, 1871.
Michell, John, The Earth Spirit: Its Ways, Shrines and Mysteries, Thames & Hudson: London 1975.
Size Nicholas, The Haunted Moor, William Walker: Otley 1934.
Smith, A.H., English Place-Name Elements – volume 1, Cambridge University Press 1956.
Speight, Harry, Upper Wharfedale, Elliott Stock: London 1900.