Within the Harris Museum, Preston can be found the Upper section of a pre-Conquest stone ‘cross’. Though much damaged on three of its sides the main face displays the upper section of a horned-helmeted figure holding a sword before it. The spreading horns suggest an important figure from the Viking period in Lancashire (c.900). This large and important piece of sculpture was found during the construction of Rivington reservoir on the River Yarrow near the village of Grimeford, Anderton in the 19th century.
Also found at that time during the reservoir construction was the lower section of a ‘cross’ shaft. This shaft is decorated on all four sides with carvings which include: the figure of a man from the waist down; a trellis filled with geometrical ornamentation of horizontal and vertical straight lines repeated to form a band known as a fret; a modified version of T-fret; and a combination of vine scroll and frets. The top of the shaft serves as the base for what is possibly a post medieval sundial base which has been adapted for use as a direction stone with directions to “Preston, Wiggan, Boulton, and Blagburn” (spelled as on the stone) being carved on the sides. I would suggest that the two fragments are parts of the same monolith and may even depict the Viking Gunnolf (the latter being my own fancy). This headless ‘cross’ is sited at the junction on the old road near the Millstone pub in Anderton and Grimeford Lane on the way to Rivington (SD 618 130). The stone is known as the ‘Grimeford Headless Cross’ or more locally as the ‘Headless Boggart’.
Folklore
Legend has it that there used to be a chapel near the junction and a tunnel running to a nearby farm on a hill. In the 16th century shortly before troops came to destroy the chapel, a priest hid in the tunnel and became trapped underground. His body was never found. Many people are said to have seen a ghost at the Headless Cross.
Addenda
To complement John’s entry, here are Mr Taylor’s notes written more than a hundred years ago in his Ancient Crosses and Holy Wells (1906), where he told:
“The HEADLESS CROSS — These words appear on the ordnance maps at a hilly spot in the extreme south-eastern corner of the hundred, five hundred feet above sea level, and distant one mile from the village of Adlington and about the same distance north from Blackrod. Both villages have histories going back into the far past… A ‘Windy Harbour’, near the cross, sufficiently indicates the breezy nature of the situation. The well and the ancient stocks are shown in close proximity to the cross. The remains of the stocks are still in existence.
“Respecting the Headless Cross and others in this locality, Mr J.W. Crompton of Rivington Hall, writes (February, 1899):
“‘In reply to your note, I never heard of any cross, ancient or modern, in Rivington proper. There was a tenement known as Butter Cross. Possibly some ancient cross may have existed there, but I know of no record to it. There used to be a Headless Cross in Anderton, but old Mr Ridgeway, of Ridgemont, removed it many years ago, when he had sporting rights rented in that township, and I believe and old road surveyor broke up a cross in Anglezark to repair his roads early in this century: his name was Gerrard. Crosses seem to have been specially erected to warn people of dangerous moors they were about to cross, and as a call to prayer in this part of the country, they were frequent.’
“…The subjoined deed is printed in the Chartulary of Cockersand Abbey, circa 1184-1190:
‘Grant in frankalmoign from Ranulf Gogard and his heirs to God [and the canons of Cockersand] for the health of the souls of his mother and his wife Edith, of all the land from Fulford to the path which crosses Rascahay Brook, between Heath Charnock and Adlington, as it was marked out by the crosses and marks of the said canons; with comon right of Charnock, in wood and plain, feeding grounds and mast in all other liberties.'”
References:
Taylor, Henry, The Ancient Crosses and Holy Wells of Lancashire, Sherratt & Hughes: Manchester 1906.
Cup-and-Ring Stone: OS Grid Reference – NY 0708 2536
Getting Here
Photo & drawing of Dean’s cup-and-ring (after Beckensall 1992)
St Oswald’s church stands at the western edge of the village of Dean beside the road to Branthwaite. The village is located some 5 miles due south-west of Cockermouth and about 6 miles to the south-east of Workington.
Archaeology & History
In the nave of St Oswald’s church there is now housed a small sandstone boulder that has a well-defined central cup-mark around which are two large concentric rings, a third ring being left open – perhaps indicating a portal (gateway), and three other well defined cup-marks at the side of that, one of which has become almost adjoined to the other through erosion.
The boulder was ploughed up in a field at nearby Park Hill to the south-west of the village in 1918. It was then placed in the churchyard but, in recent times it was brought into the church for safety reasons.
References:
Beckensall, Stan, Cumbrian Prehistoric Rock Art, Abbey Press: Hexham 1992.
Beckensall, Stan, British Prehistoric Rock Art,Tempus: Stroud 1999.
Beckensall, Stan, Prehistoric Rock Art in Cumbria, Tempus: Stroud 2002.
To get here, take the same direction as to reach the Bleara Lowe tumulus, stopping a short distance away when you reach the large heap just by the walling where the moorland levels out. Y’ can’t really miss it!
Archaeology & History
Bleara Moor tumulus
Found on the top of the slope above the Bleara Moor Cairnfield, this is quite a large burial mound that seems to have been forgotten on the small moorland heights above Earby and Lothersdale. No archaeological excavation has been done here and there seem to be no accounts of any finds in local antiquarian records. When we visited the place it was very overgrown and covered in heather, but it stood out in the open landscape. Slightly larger than its more famous companion to the east, this tomb stands three- to four-feet high on average, with a diameter of around 25 yards on its longest northeast/southwest axis. Consistent in structure with the larger cairns on Burley Moor like the Little Skirtful, this tomb was probably built in the Bronze Age. It also seems that a lot of stone has been robbed from this cairn for use in the local walling. The site was given a minimal description on the Pastscape website, where it was described as:
“Round cairn 230m W of Bleara Howe (sic). Scheduled RSM No 23718. A partly mutilated slightly oval mound of peat and heather-covered stones up to 1.2m high with max dimensions of 23m NNE-SSW x 21m WNW-ESE.”
The views from here are considerable and this probably had some relevance when it was first built, but I’m not aware if an assessment of this aspect of the site has been made. More information about the Bleara Moor tumulus (and its companions!) would be hugely appreciated!
There’s no footpath to this site, but we came to it via the car park on Coolham Lane on the southeast side of Earby. Walking uphill, we got over the wooden stile on the moorside and walked up the side of the walling, all the way upwards till we reached the top of the moor. You’ll pass the large Bleara Moor tumulus just by the walling, then head towards the rounded hillock on the top of the moor a coupla hundred yards away. Y’ can’t really miss it!
Archaeology & History
As with many sites in this area, very little has been said of this usually overgrown Bronze Age burial mound. Although no known recorded excavation of the tomb has ever been done, someone dug into the top of the mound in the 1960s, but we have no record of any finds. The tomb stands on the local boundary line between Earby and Lothersdale to the east and was known as ‘Bleara Haugh’ in the 1819 Enclosure Act. But little else has ever been said of it.
Bleara LoweOS-map of site
When we visited the place a few months ago, we were fortunate in that the heather had been burnt back, so allowing a much better view of the site than normally afforded when it’s covered in heather. The rounded mound was between 4 and 5 feet high and measured approximately 20 yards across. The pit which had been dug into the top of the mound was still visible, though much overgrown. The view from the tomb itself was very impressive — which would have been of some importance in the construction of the place. The Pastscape website describes Bleara Lowe as:
“A slightly oval mound of peat and heather-covered stones up to 1.4m high with max dimensions of 21m E-W x 19m N-S. There is a rectangular hollow 3m x 1.5m x 0.4m deep on the cairn’s summit.”
Another larger tumulus or overgrown cairn can be found over 200 yards west of here; plus a number of small singular prehistoric cairns have been located further down the western slope of the moor, known as the Bleara Moor Cairnfield. None of these sites have ever been excavated.
Dead easy to find. Get to the centre of Whalley and walk into the churchyard. Don’t confuse it with the ruins of the old abbey, or you won’t find the place!
Archaeology & History
I here wish to draw your attention to the three standing crosses in the churchyard (the crosses do not stand in their original positions having being ‘thrown down’ during the Commonwealth and used amongst other things as farm gate-posts):
1) THE EASTERMOST CROSS (Taylor ‘C’): Standing opposite the chancel door (Priest’s Door, early 13th century retaining the original ironwork and bronze head knocker) is a much-worn cross shaft that only under certain lighting conditions that can any decoration is made out. It has scrollwork as pat of its ornament and a pelleted border. Two figures, heads surrounded by halos, can be made out just above the shaft centre. The head of the cross is not original but of the late 14th century. The cross originally stood over 11ft in height (see drawing reconstruction). Fragments of this cross are built into the fabric of the church, the top section of the shaft and parts of the cross head are held in Blackburn Museum. One fragment can be made out in the outside Chancel wall displaying the pelleted border and some scrollwork. Another fragment is built into the back wall of the Sedilia and is in good condition. A further fragment is built into the back wall of the Bishops Throne, last stall, south side, east adjacent the Sanctuary.
The shaft is set in a broken oblong base that one may have held two or more shafts in the form of a ‘Calvary’.
Cross no.2 in 1904 (after Taylor, 1906)
2) THE WESTERMOST CROSS (Taylor ‘A’): Originally panelled crosses of this type were brightly painted in red, yellow, green, blue and white. All four sides are decorated but only the east face survives clearly enough to be made out. The shaft was divided into seven panels with roll-mouldings running along each of the panels, of which only six now exist (part of the upper panel, displaying the hallowed head of a figure and cross arm are held by Blackburn Museum). The two lowest panels and the top panel contain geometric and interlace patterns. Halfway is a sculptured panel containing a hallowed human figure, arms akimbo (raised as if giving a blessing). Either side of the figure are two serpents with open mouths. This design is repeated on the side face of the shaft along with two interlace panels. Above the figure panel is one depicting the figure of a bird (an eagle or pelican in her piety?). The lower panel shows that of a beast (a dog or a lion?).
Crosses 1 and 2 clearly show Hiberno-Norse influences, so named after the second and third generation Irish Norwegians who settled Lancashire in the 10th century whose artistic culture became dominant.
Cross no.3 in 1904 (after Taylor, 1906)
3) THE CROSS OPPOSITE THE PORCH (Taylor ‘B’): This magnificent cross is in a fair state of preservation, although a portion of the upper shaft and three arms of the head are missing. Originally it would have stood at around 10ft in height and is the oldest of the crosses being no later than the late 10th century. The central cross shaft measures approximately 2.2m high and is socketed into a square base stone carved with dog-tooth decoration. It is rectangular in cross section and tapers towards the top where it has been broken. A piece of the shaft about 0.75m in length is missing. All four sides of the shaft depict well-preserved late 10th century decoration comprising foliated scrollwork. The principal ornamentation is on the east and west faces and consists of a central rounded shaft or pole rising from the apex of a gable. At the top of the shaft are the mutilated remains of the carved central boss of the cross head.
Whalley’s Cross 3
The central rounded column forms the axis mundi (cosmic axis, world pillar), being a ubiquitous symbol that crosses human cultures. The image expresses a point of connection between the heavens and earth where the four compass directions meet. At this point travel and correspondence is made between higher and lower realms. Communication from lower realms may ascend to higher ones and blessings from higher realms may descend to lower ones and be disseminated to all. The spot functions as the omphalos (navel), the world’s point of beginning.
The axis mundi image appears in every region of the world and takes many forms: a hill or mountain (Pendle), a tree (Tree of Life, World Ash Tree, etc), a vine, a ladder (Jacob’s Ladder), a stone monolith, a maypole, Sufi whirling, etc. The foliated swirls represent interactive movement along the axis – transmission, unity within multiplicity.
The axis mundi concept has its origins in Indo-European shamanism, and a universally told story is that of the healer traversing the axis mundi to bring back knowledge (benefits/blessings, etc) from the ‘other world’. The Sufi concept of baraka and the Hindu mystical concept of akasha are akin to this.
All three crosses had cross heads of four arms of equal length, each widening at the outer end in an axe shape so that their rims nearly form a circle.
Editor’s Note: Henry Taylor (1904) described the “remains of other pre-Norman crosses” at the point marked ‘D’ on his map of the church, adding:
“The Bishop of Bristol thus describes the fragments of other crosses at Whalley: ‘A pretty and delicate fragment forms part of the back of the sedilia; there is at least one piece in the south wall of the chancel, outside, and there are fragments lying on the ground. One of these, showing a system of oval buckles, as it were, with straps through them, closely resembles a stone found — but now lost — at Prestbury…”
Folklore
Taylor mentions how the Whalley crosses were long known as the Paulinus Crosses, “who is said to have been made Archbishop of York in the year 627, and who, it is alleged, preached and baptised in the wild districts far removed from that capital, even in such remote places as Whalley… His name is also attached to an ancient cross…on Longridge Fell.”
References:
Taylor, Henry, The Ancient Crosses and Holy Wells of Lancashire, Sherratt & Hughes: Manchester 1906.
Whitaker, Thomas Dunham, An History of the Original Parish of Whalley and Honor of Clitheroe, Nichols, Son & Bentley: London 1818.
If you wanna drive here, be prepared for a long uphill winding haul, with very poor turning, single-track roads and no parking spots. It’s dodgy as hell! But, if y’ must – from the central roundabout in Todmorden, take the road diagonally across as if you’re going to the train station, and barely 50 yards up, take the right turn under the railways arches, bearing sharp left, then up the very steep zigzagging dangerous road for a mile or so. You’ll eventually reach Stones Lane on your left. Go down this, nearly to the end, slowly – and keep your eyes peeled until you see the big one! You can’t miss it! If you want walk up (a much safer, healthier and preferable route), take the Calderdale Way route up past Dobroyd Castle, and where you get to the top of the hill and the fields open up ahead of you, look down the slope into the field for one stone, and up past the shrubs to Centre Hill. You can’t miss them!
Archaeology & History
Three ‘stones’ on 1911 map
This is a quite extraordinary sight to those who visit here for the first time. Moreso because, until very recently, the place was excluded from all text-books and surveys. But if you like your megaliths, this place is well worth the trek up the hill. You’ll be amazed! The tallest and largest of these giant monoliths was recorded when a team from Ordnance Survey mapped the area in 1844, but gave no antiquated note to it. When another Ordnance Survey team re-surveyed the area again in 1911, they noted two other ‘stones’ three fields away to the northeast. More than a decade later, the industrialist historian Abraham Newall (1925) described them at some length in his fine work on the region.
Stone 1, looking NWStone 2, at top of hillock (soz about the crap picture)
The first thing generally noticed is the 12-foot tall standing stone near the bottom of the field (stone 1). Then you’ll see the curiously-worked thin standing stone, nearly as tall, on the hillock at the top of the same field (stone 2). This stone has been surmounted onto an old millstone and the hillock itself was once an old beacon hill. Then on the other side of the road a few hundred yards along, another stone just over 4-feet tall can be seen (stone 3); and in the same field is another one laid down at the side of a well (stone 4). This stone used to stand just where the water appears. It’s seems probable that other standing stones may once have been in close attendance, but have been destroyed over time.
Stone 3, looking southStone 3, looking west
Stone 1 is hemmed in at the base by several stones, giving the impression that it was resurrected at some time in the recent past. Several local stories attest to this. Stone 2 was once further down in the same field but was moved to its present position in the 19th century and was, it is alleged, moved there to commemorate the Battle of Waterloo. Several local historians contest this. Stone 3 has nothing said of it; apart from by the local farmer who said it once had a companion (as illustrated on the early map, above). We were told that this companion (stone 4) was uprooted and a spring of water appeared where it stood, so they laid it down in the position it still occupies, just by the spring 10 yards into the field.
If you’re into megaliths and live in Yorkshire or Lancashire, check these beauties out! Just respect the local farmer – he’s not into ignorant tourists clambering over walls. (don’t say you’ve not been warned!)
References:
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Milverton 2001.
Newell, Abraham, A Hillside View of Industrial History, J. Bentley: Todmorden 1925.
Lilla Cross is situated on Fylingdales Moor, north Yorkshire, between Pickering and Whitby at the junction of two major moorland footpaths. It is located close to the Fylingdales Ballistic Missile Early Warning Station – which resemble giant golf balls on the horizon.
Archaeology & History
Woodwark’s 1930s photo of Lilla Cross
The ancient cross is 10 foot high and free-standing but it sits upon what is probably a ruined Bronze-Age bowl barrow called Lilla Howe; the recumbent stones that lie around the base of the cross may form part of that. It is a sturdy, stocky cross that has some letters carved onto it, one in particular being a large letter “C” possibly meaning Christos (Christ) and with that a small thin cross; there are a few other faint letters but these are difficult to decipher now. A plaque on a nearby stone gives information about the cross. I think Lilla Cross was used as a sort of Medieval milestone or way-marker – hence the lettering on the cross.
In 1952 the cross was moved to Sil Howe near Goathland but 10 years later in 1962 it was returned to its original site on top of Lilla Howe. In the 1920s excavations on the barrow revealed some artefacts of jewellery, but no remains of Edwin’s trusty chief minister were found; the jewellery was, in fact, said to date from the mid 9th century. Lilla Cross has been referred to by historians as the oldest christian cross on the north York Moors.
Folklore
Lilla Cross on 1854 Map
According to the legend, in AD 625 or 626 King Edwin of Northumbria was travelling with his entourage across the moors, but an assassin had been dispatched by the king of the west Saxons to kill Edwin. The assassin lunged forward with his poison tipped sword, but Lilla his chief minister at the king’s court, leapt in between his sovereign and the swordsman. Poor Lilla took the full thrust of the sword and died on the spot thus saving the king from being murdered. King Edwin, who was greatly impressed by this selfless act of devotion, ordered that Lilla being a newly converted christian be buried here in a christian way though he asked that a number of articles be placed with the body including gold and silver. The king then had a cross erected in memory at the spot where Lilla died. But it seems likely that the cross dates from the 10th century, though there may have been an earlier Saxon cross here. References:
Ogilvie, Elizabeth & Sleightholme, Audrey, An Illustrated Guide to the Crosses on the North Yorkshire Moors, Village Green Press: Thorganby 1994.
White, Stanhope, Standing Stones and Earthworks on the North Yorkshire Moors, Fretwell & Cox: Keighley 1987.
Woodwark, T.H., The Crosses on the North York Moors, Whitby Literary & Philosophical Society 1934.
Standing Stone (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – TA 040 587
Archaeology & History
Information on this stone is sparse and the grid-reference cited is a close approximation of its precise location. And were it not for the records of Victorian folklorists, its existence may have been completely lost. The first reference I’ve found of it is in Nicholson’s East Yorkshire (1890) survey, but I am hoping that someone, somewhere, made archaeological notes of the site (am I hoping for too much here…?) The stone appears to have stood upon, or was very close to, the local boundary line between Nafferton and Driffield—which means there could be a record of it in any perambulation accounts of the region.
Folklore
John Nicholson (1890) told us the following intriguing bitta folklore about this stone, saying:
“About half way down the hill forming the eastern slope of Nafferton Slack, by the roadside, to prevent waggons leaving the roadway, stood a large stone, which was believed to have wonderful powers. At night, at certain seasons, it glowed like fire, sometimes it seemed but the portal of a well-lighted hall; and one old stone-breaker declared he had heard wonderful music issuing therefrom, the like of which he had never heard before; while on one occasion he had seen troops of gaily-dressed elfins repairing thither, some on foot and some on carriages, and they all went into this mysterious hall. The old man is dead, the stone is gone, and the fairies have departed.”
Some twenty years later, Mrs Gutch repeated the story, but added no further details. One wonders whether the information about a fairy hall implied the former existence of a mound or tumulus next to the old stone (a few hundred yards south, just off the same boundary line, we find the remains of the curiously named tumulus of Cheesecake Hill). Any further info would be most welcome…
References:
Gutch, Mrs E., Examples of Printed Folk-lore Concerning the East Riding of Yorkshire, David Nutt: London 1912.
Nicholson, Folk-lore of East Yorkshire, Simpkin Marshall: London 1890.
The cross stands high-up on Danby High Moor between Hutton-le-Hole and Castleton, just by the junction of two moorland roads to Rosedale and Westerdale, in north Yorkshire. The monument stands on private land. (Ed. – though in Yorkshire, many of us ignore such signs)
Archaeology & History
Mr Woodwark’s 1930s photo of Young Ralph
First described in old deeds from the early 13th century, Ralph’s Cross stands nine feet high on a solid stone base. There is uncertainty about its age; the present-day cross could date from the 18th century though some historians date it to around 1200, certainly the base could date from that time. It seems likely that a much older cross once stood on this site — perhaps an Anglo-Saxon one that was actually made of wood. At that time it may have been referred to as ‘The Roda Cross’ (Rude Cross). More than likely the cross acted as a medieval highway marker because it stands at the junction of two moorland roads. Originally there were some letters carved on the cross, one in particular, being the letter “R” for Ralph was carved on the south face.
Over the centuries the cross has suffered damage and vandalism by being knocked down, particularly in the 1960s and again in 1984 after which it lay in two pieces. However, in 1985 the cross was lovingly restored and re-erected by some local men, Mr Robert Dixon, Mr Tom Rudd and Mr Michael Smith, at the English Heritage Commission’s stone masonry workshop at Mount Grace Priory. The middle section of the cross was made from new stone from nearby quarries; the top section was not badly damaged, but a section of delta metal was inserted inside the shaft to make a secure link between the sections and the cross-head. The cross is a listed monument.
A few hundred yards to the south stands another cross called ‘Old Ralph’ which is just 5 feet high and is located on Blackey Ridge. This cross dates from the beginning of the 13th century and is perhaps a memorial to Ralph, bishop of Guisborough.
Folklore
According to legend, the cross was set up to mark the resting place of a monk from Farndale and a nun from Rosedale. They would often meet here and a romantic liason of sorts occurred, but they were found out by their superiors and came to a nasty end, possibly with their deaths. But the most common folk-tale tells us that a farmer called Ralph from Danby found the dead body of a traveller at this spot. He was so moved by this that he decided to erect a cross in memory of this poor unfortunate traveller, who had starved to death and was found to be penniless. Ralph had a hollow carved into the top of the cross so that more wealthy travellers, those on horseback, might place a few coins for the benefit of any less fortunate travellers, or as a thanksgiving for having reached this point on their journey. The poor traveller was able to take a coin, if he/she could reach the hollow, and buy a hot meal at the nearest inn. Ralph then vowed that such a terrible thing would never ever happen again, and it seems to have worked, thanks to him.
References:
Ford, Joseph, Some Reminiscences and Folk-Lore of Danby Parish & District, Horne and Son: Whitby 1953.
Ogilvie, Elizabeth & Sleightholme, Audrey, An Illustrated Guide to the Crosses on the North Yorkshire Moors, Village Green Press: Thorganby 1994.
Woodwark, T.H., The Crosses on the North York Moors, Whitby Literary & Philosophical Society 1934.
Various ways to get here. Probably the easiest is via the golf course itself, walking up towards the top where the trees reach the hills, but keeping your eyes peeled for the large archetypal tumulus or fairy mound near the top of the slope. Alternatively, come up through the wooded slopes from Bridge of Allan and onto the golf course, keeping your eyes ready for the self same mound sat in the corner by the walls. You can’t really miss it to be honest!
Archaeology & History
This is an impressive-looking burial mound sat, intact, on the edge of those painful golf courses that keep growing over our landscape — and you can see for miles from here! It would seem to have been placed with quite deliberate views across the landscape, reaching for countless miles into the Grampian mountains north and west across the moors of Gargunnock and Flanders towards Lomond and beyond…
Fairy Knowe, facing westSir Armstrong’s old drawing
The Fairy Knowe was first excavated in 1868 by Sir J.E. Alexander and his team, when their measurements found it to be some 80 yards in circumference, 78 feet across and 21 feet high — compared to less than 60 feet across and only 8 feet tall today. The findings were recorded in one of the early PSAS reports, and more recently a synopsis of the account was made of it by the Royal Commission (1963) lads who summarized his early findings and told:
“The excavation revealed a cist in the centre of the cairn, laid on the original surface of the ground and measuring 2ft 6in in length, 1ft 6in in breadth and 3ft in depth. Its walls were formed partly of upright slabs and partly of small stones laid horizontally, while the floor and the roof each consisted of a single slab. Within it there was a deposit, 6in in depth, of black earth, charcoal and fragments of human bone among which pieces of a skull were conspicuous. The cist was covered by a heap of large stones, 8ft in diameter and 13ft in height, and this in turn was covered with earth, in which there were charcoal, blackened stones, fragments of human and animal bones and unctuous black earth. Among these remains were found six flint arrowheads, a fragment of what was once thought to be a stone spear-head, and a piece of pine which, it was suggested, might have formed part of a spear-shaft.”
Also, near the top of the cairn in the fairy mound, Sir Alexander’s team located a prehistoric beaker vessel and fragments of what they thought were other beakers pots. Archaeologist Richard Feachem (1977) also mentioned this site in his gazetteer, simply copying the words of previous researchers.
Other prehistoric cairns can be found nearby: one in Cuparlaw Woods less a mile north; plus the Pendreich cairns on the edge of the moors just over 1 mile to the northeast.
Folklore
Obviously an abode of the faerie folk in bygone times, the tales of the place are sadly fading from local memory… Mr Alexander (1868) thought this place may have been an important site for the Pictish folk, and he may well have been correct, as the legendary hill of Dumyat (correctly known as Dun Myat) 2 miles east of here has long been regarded as an outpost of one Pictish tribe.
The main piece of folklore attached to this place relates to its very name and how it came about. In R.M. Menzies (1912) rare work on the folklore of the Ochils, he narrates the local tale that used to be spoken, which describes a procession here from the Fairy Well, just over a mile to the east. Whether this folktale relates to some long lost actual procession between the two sites, we don’t know for sure. Mr Menzies told:
“Once upon a time, when people took life more leisurely, and when the wee folk frequented the glens and hills of Scotland, there was one little fairy whose duty it was to look after certain wells renowned for their curative properties. This fairy was called Blue Jacket, and his favourite haunt was the Fairy Well on the Sheriffmuir Road, where the water was so pure and cool that nobody could pass along without taking a drink of the magic spring. A draught of this water would have such a refreshing effect that the drinker could go on his journey without feeling either thirsty or hungry. Many travellers who had refreshed themselves at the Fairy Well would bless the good little man who kept guard over its purity, and proceed upon their way dreaming of pleasant things all the day long.
“One warm day in June, a Highland drover from the Braes of Rannoch came along with a drove of Highland cattle, which he was taking to Falkirk Tryst, and feeling tired and thirsty he stopped at the Fairy Well, took a good drink of its limpid water, and sat down beside it to rest, while his cattle browsed nearby. The heat was very overpowering, and he fell into a dreamy sleep.
“As he lay enjoying his noonday siesta, Blue Jacket stepped out from among the brackens and approaching the wearied drover, asked him whence he came. The drover said:
“‘I come from the Highland hills beside the Moor of Rannoch; but I have never seen such a wee man as you before. Wha’ may you be?’
“‘Oh,’ said the fairy, ‘I am Blue Jacket, one of the wee folk!’
“‘Ay, ay man, ye have got a blue jacket, right enough; but I’ve never met ony o’ your kind before. Do ye bide here?’
“‘Sometimes; but I am the guardian of the spring from which you have just been drinking.’
“‘Weel, a’ I can say is that it is grand water; there is no’ the likes o’t frae this to Rannoch.’
“‘What’s your name?’ asked the fairy.
“‘They ca’ me Sandy Sinclair, the Piper o’ Rannoch,’ was the reply.
“‘Have you got your pipes?’ asked Blue Jacket.
“‘Aye, my mannie, here they are. Wad ye like a tune? Ye see there’s no’ a piper like me in a’ Perthshire.’
“‘Play away then,’ said Blue Jacket.
“Sandy Sinclair took up his pipes and, blowing up the bag, played a merry Highland reel. When he finished, he was greatly surprised to see above the well a crowd of little folk, like Blue Jacket, dancing to the music he had been playing. As he stopped they clapped their little hands and exclaimed, ‘Well done Sandy! You’re the piper we need.’
“Thereupon Blue Jacket blew a silver whistle, which he took from his belt, and all the wee folk formed themselves into a double row. Blue Jacket then took the Highland piper by the hand, led him to the front of the procession, and told him to play a march. Sandy felt himself unable to resist the command of the fairy, and, putting the chanter into his mouth, blew his hardest and played his best, marching at the head of the long line of little people, who tripped along, keeping time to the strains of the bagpipes. Blue Jacket walked in front of the piper, leading the way in the direction of the Fairy Knowe.
“Sandy Sinclair never marched so proudly as he did that day, and the road, though fairly long, seemed to be no distance at all; the music of the pibroch fired his blood and made him feel as if he was leading his clansmen to battle. When the Fairy Knowe was reached, the wee folk formed themselves into a circle round the little hill, and sang a song the sweetest that ever fell upon the ears of the Highlandman. Blue Jacket once more took his whistle and, blowing three times upon it, held up his hand, and immediately the side of the knoll opened. Bidding the piper to play on, Blue Jacket led the procession into the interior; and when all were inside, the fairies formed themselves into sets, and the piper playing a strathspey, they began dancing with might and main.
“One dance succeeded another, and still Sandy played on, the wee folk tripping it as merrily as ever. All thoughts of Sandy’s drove had gone quite out of his head, and all he thought of now was how best to keep the fairies dancing: he had never seen such nimble dancers, and every motion was so graceful and becoming as made him play his very best to keep the fun going. Sandy Sinclair was in Fairyland, and every other consideration was forgotten.
“Meanwhile his cattle and sheep were following their own sweet will, the only guardian left to take care of them being his collie dog. This faithful animal kept watch as well as he could, and wondered what had become of his master. Towards evening another drover came along with his cattle for the same tryst. He knew the dog at once, and began to pet the animal, saying at the same time, ‘Where’s your master, Oscar? What’s become o’ Sandy?’
“All the dog would do was to wag his bushy tail, and look up with a pleading air, as if to say, ‘I don’t know; will you not find him?’
“‘My puir wee doggie, I wonder what’s come over Sandy? It’s no like him to leave his cattle stravaiging by the roadside. Ay ay man; and at the Fairy Well too! Indeed, this looks unco bad.’
“The newcomer, who was also a Highlander, made up his mind to spend the night with his own drove and that of Sandy Sinclair, thinking that the missing man would turn up in the morning. But when the morning came there was no sign of Sandy.
“Taking Sandy’s collie and leaving his own dog in charge of the combined droves, he said, ‘Find master, Oscar!’ The wise beast sniffed around for a little and then trotted off in the direction taken the day before by Sandy Sinclair and the fairies. By and by they reached the Fairy Knowe; but there was nobody there as far as the drover could see. The dog ran round and round the knoll, barking vigorously all the time, and looking up into the face of the drover as if to say, ‘This is where he is; this is where he is.’ The drover examined every bit of the Fairy Knowe, but there was no trace of Sandy Sinclair. As the drover sat upon the top of the Fairy Knowe, wondering what he should do next, he seemed to hear the sound of distant music. Telling the faithful dog to keep quiet, he listened attentively, and by-and-by made out the sound of the pibroch; but whether it was at a long distance or not, he could not be certain. In the meantime, the dog began to scrape at the side of the mound and whimper in a plaintive manner. Noticing this, the drover put his ear to the ground and listened. There could be no mistake this time: the music of the pibroch came from the centre of the Fairy Knowe.
“‘Bless my soul!’ exclaimed Sandy’s friend. ‘He’s been enticed by the fairies to pipe at their dances. We’ll ne’er see Sandy Sinclair again.’
“It was as true as he said. The Piper of Rannoch never returned to the friends he knew, and the lads and lasses had to get another piper to play their dance music when they wished to spend a happy evening by the shore of the loch. Long, long afterwards, the passers-by often heard the sound of pipe music, muffled and far away, coming from the Fairy Knowe; but the hidden piper was never seen. When long absent friends returned to Rannoch and enquired about Sandy Sinclair, they were told that he had gone to be piper to the wee folk and had never come home again.”
