Take the same directions as if you’re visiting any of the upper Ballochraggan petroglyphs, but 100 yards before the carvings, out in the open on the grasslands, below the reach of the forest, you’ll see the leaning stone if you wander about. You can’t really miss it!
Archaeology & History
Not included in any of the Canmore, Royal Commission or Ordnance Survey records, this standing stone appears to have eluded official records until now. Found close to the petroglyph-rich arena of the Ballochraggan complex, with attendant tombs to the east, there is the possibility that this large leaning stone was itself, once, a part of a long-gone cairn, as Paul Hornby suggested. The small cluster of stones around its base certainly adds to that idea (similar to the incredible Dunruchan cluster, more than 17 miles (28km) northeast).
The stone leans at a considerable angle from a previously upright position. When standing it would have been nearly five-feet tall and measures nearly as wide. The stone is roughly triangular in shape, above ground. What appear to be two faint cup marks on its topmost surface are very probably due to conglomerate rock erosion and not the handiwork of humans.
Fairy Mine, Bingley Moor (photo by James Elkington)
This is a strange one. A really strange one….. The site would not have even been written about had it not been for James Elkington pushing me to make its existence visible to a wide audience. As with many sites that I’ve rediscovered, this is one of many that I never seem to write about, for various reasons…although I did do a short piece on it (Bennett 2001) many years back in a little earth mysteries mag, but kept the location quiet. But now, James has got me to change my mind about it. If anyone can throw any light onto what they think this site might be, feel free to let us know. With the exception of is early history, this is its story…
Close-up of the entrance (photo by James Elkington)
One weekend in the early Spring of 1977, Jon Tilleard and I made our weekly wander onto the southern edges of Rombalds Moor, doing little as usual apart from maybe seeking out the curious cup-and-ring stones and other ancient remains, along with walking through the obligatory bogs and wetlands, getting filthy and wet through as healthy kids do at that age. After making our way to Horncliffe Well (generally our first point of call most weeks), we decided to head straight west, off-path as always, and eventually sat ourselves down for something to eat near Wicking Crags on Bingley Moor.
As we packed up again, readying ourselves to walk further onto the moor, John stood upright. In doing so, he dislodged a stone by his feet—right where I was still sitting on the ground!
“Watch out!” he exclaimed loudly—and I quickly rolled forward to get out of the way of the impending stone. Thankfully it wasn’t too big. But then as I turned round to see what had happened, I saw John stood on the small rocky rise he’d been sitting upon—and right beneath his feet, the stone that he’d dislodged had been hiding a very curious secret indeed…
As the photos show, a small opening led into the Earth right underneath where Jon had been sitting. The stone he’d accidentally kicked away had covered and sealed a previously unrecorded entrance. Now, after however many centuries it had been closed and secret, he’d uncovered it again. For us two fourteen-year-old lads gazing into this passageway, our imaginations started running riot!
“What the hell izzit!?”—we must have exclaimed a dozen times or more to each other! To this day, we still don’t know.
I’m not sure how long we stayed here after we’d first found it, but before we left we made sure that the covering stone which had sealed the entrance was propped back upright, securely, so that no one else could find it. The site was quite a way off-path, at the head of a very large boggy area where—to this day—people very rarely walk (in all my years of walking these moors, I’ve yet to see another human walking in this area).
In looking into the tunnel for the very first time, the ground on the outside was of course covered by the usual moorland vegetation; but an inch behind where the stone had sealed this tunnel, the floor was grey dust, all the way in. There were no animal tracks, neither mice nor others, no droppings, no nothing (which we thought was rather unusual). No plants of any form were evident. This ‘door’ had been closed for a very long time it seemed. …Today if you visit the site, ferns and other small plants have encroached several feet into the tunnel.
The entrance itself is about 14 inches across, and from the ground to the top covering stone the entrance is less than 12 inches high, showing quite clearly that no humans can walk in or out of it. Which added to the puzzle: what the hell is it? And why was it sealed with a covering stone? But the more we looked (it became our regular port of call each time we were on the moors) the more obvious it became that a huge amount of work had gone into creating this antiquarian oddity.
As Winter came and cleared all the vegetation surrounding the site, we got an increasingly clear picture of it. But this wasn’t before we tried to get inside! Jon and I failed, but our torches showed that it went in for about 20-30 feet or so and then appeared to be stop, blocked by another stone. Thankfully I had a younger brother, Phil, who was seven-year old at the time—so we took him up to have a look at the place. We figured that only a small person could get inside the tunnel, but we didn’t tell him this (nor my parents!) until we arrived.
With torch in hand, Phil slithered into the entrance and, eventually, his little feet disappeared into the ground. He didn’t seem too happy about it as I remember—but I was his big brother! (cruel – cruel – cruel!) Shouting back down to us as he slithered further and further in, when he reached the blocking stone in the tunnel he exclaimed—”You can go round it!”
“What!? Really!?”
We were excited.
“Keep going Phil,” we urged. But he wouldn’t.
“I’m scared Paul,” he said. “I won’t be able to get back out”—or something along those lines. And he was probably right.
But he managed to get his young tiny body slightly round the blocking stone that he’d reached and shone the torch-light down the extended tunnel. He told that the it just kept going into the hill still further, keeping the same size and dimensions and straightness for about the same distance again—but then it started to curve very slightly, bending to the left (northwest) until it disappeared underneath the entire hillside, stretching out of sight. It seemed from his description, subsequently, that the tunnel went on for another 50 feet at least.
Once he was safely back out, he reiterated how far in it seemed to go. We walked up the hill under which it had been built and Phil bimbled to roughly where he thought the tunnel was as he saw it with the torchlight. Standing on the hilltop, this was obviously an extraordinary feat as there are thousands of tons of rock and earth covering it! Curiously, years later, a dowser who visited the place walked the same route that Phil had described when he went inside it (we told the dowser nothing of Phil’s venture until afterwards).
Denuded walling leading to entrance (photo by James Elkington)Low walling leading to the ‘Mine’ (photo by James Elkington)
When all the moorland vegetation has died back, you can clearly see how the tunnel has been built upon by a large mass of earth and rocks, some of them loose. All round it is an extended collapse of what seems to be quarried stone tumbling down the hillside. At the top of the hill are the remains of old walling and at least two walled structures—although they appear to be post-medieval in nature, not prehistoric. At the entrance itself is evidence of continued walling of some form. It seems as if a wider man-made chamber of some sort may once have stood here, right in front of the present-day entrance. Even if this proves not to be the case, there is very clear evidence that the tunnel which goes into the hillside was once longer, as low walling continues outside away from the entrance, bending away some 50 yards to the southeast, before ending with no indication of additional structural remains. This walled structure swerving out from the entrance is equally perplexing.
The closest prehistoric feature is an unrecorded cairn and petroglyph a few hundred yards away. As far as I’m concerned, this tiny little entrance into the ground isn’t prehistoric. But I’m nonetheless still very intrigued by it, not least because of a few very strange things that subsequently occurred here after we’d discovered it.
Whoever did this, went to a helluva lot of trouble and immense effort to build it. And for what? …Since being opened nearly 40 years ago, very few people have been to see this curious entrance into the Earth. I’ve kept its location hidden. But amongst the visitors has been an archaeologist, a historian, antiquarian authors, occultists and friends. None have been able to say what this site might be. From souterrains to mine-shafts, probably the best suggestion so far was by Mr Paul Hornby who suggested it might have been some sort of kiln, as there seems evidence of fire against one of the stones. But there are anomalies with the site that don’t quite fit the glove of a normal kiln. The extended collapsed ‘tunnel’ which reaches way out, past the entrance which Jon broke in the 1970s, doesn’t make sense; nor the fact that the tunnel goes way into the natural hillside. Indeed, many things here don’t make sense, simply—I presume—because we haven’t asked the right question yet.
But one thing seems obvious: there may be something at the end of this tunnel, deep inside the hill, which someone many centuries ago, for some odd reason, wanted to keep hidden for a long long time. What’s at the end of this tunnel? And if it’s valuable treasure deep in there—it is NOT going to some museum which then, in later years, will be sold off cheaply to some wealthy dood when the museum runs out of money. It should be kept within the safe holdings of The Northern Antiquarian. If this becomes an issue, whatever lies at the end will simply be re-buried elsewhere.
Fortean History
On that fine Spring morning when we first discovered this “mine shaft for little people” as we called it, before we went on our way, we placed the stone that Jon had dislodged that had covered the entrance back into position so that no one could see the opening leading into the ground and under the hill. It was firm and secure when we left—we made sure of it.
The following Sunday morning we made our way back up past Horncliffe Well again and onto this little mine-shaft to sit and have summat to eat. The rocky arena here made it difficult to locate, even though we knew where it was. But when we eventually did find it again, the covering-stone was missing. In fact it had been rolled a good 5 yards away from the entrance. This was odd, we thought—considering that no one even knew of its existence. We wondered if an animal had taken up residence inside, but there were no tracks or remains consistent with this initial idea. We puzzled about it, ate our food, and said our au revoirs. Before we left, we repositioned the covering stone again to block the entrance. This time we made it a little more secure than previously.
The following Sunday morning we visited the site again—and the covering stone had been removed, again! So we replaced it, securely, and visited the place a week later—and the same thing had happened again. This occurred time after time, month after month, year after year. Every single time we covered the entrance, something came and removed it. Yet no one ever comes on this section of the moorland—and even if they did, the site is very difficult to locate. Until now, the site has never been added to any archaeology or history records anywhere—so no one knew of its existence (in asking two of the moorland rangers who’ve worked here over the decades, neither of them knew what we were talking about).
When Andrew Hammond and I left school at 18 (in 1981), we decided as a ritual to bring our school books onto the moor and burn them as the sun was setting in the northwest. We sat near the little mine-shaft and sang our songs of joys at being out of school at last—and as the darkness began to fall over the moor, we replaced the entrance-stone again. Within 30 minutes Nature had cast pitch black across the moor and we fell asleep.
Awaking at sunrise the following day, we wandered down the slope to the little mine-shaft where we’d repositioned the stone only hours previously. It had been moved again, several yards away from the entrance. No animal could have moved it. Whatever it was, it kept doing it every time we repositioned the covering stone. No animal tracks, droppings, or any evidence whatsoever of Nature’s creatures being responsible for the constant removal of the covering stone has ever been found. The constant removal of the covering stone remains a complete mystery.
When a dowser came and tried tracing the underground route of the tunnel in the early 1990s, his rods took him to the top of the rocky hill above, then led him in a small curve to the northwest for more than 100 yards before stopping.
Note:
In the event that archaeologists ever get round to excavating or assessing this site, I would appreciate being contacted before anything is done and would love to be involved in any work performed at the site. I’ll be a good boy! Other remains nearby (usually covered by heather) need appraising to enable a more complete analysis, otherwise all subsequent reports would lack wider archaeocentric contextualization. Thanks, in advance. 🙂
References:
Bennett, Paul., ‘Into a Mythic Domain – a Passage into the Ilkley Underworld,’ in Northern Earth, 87, Autumn 2001.
Acknowledgements: Huge thanks to James Elkington for use of his photos to illustrate this site profile.
Along the A81 road from Port of Menteith to Aberfoyle, watch out for the small road in the trees running at an angle sharply uphill, nearly opposite Portend, up to Coldon and higher. Keep going, bearing right at Mondowie, then stopping at the dirt-track 100 yards or so further up. Walk up the track, thru the gate, and another 100 yards or so higher up, go thru the gate on your left. Walk up the field alongside the fence until you’re on the level and you’ll see a large rounded mound about 75 yards in the same field to your left.
Archaeology & History
This little known prehistoric tomb sits within a landscape rich in very impressive neolithic and Bronze Age petroglyphs and probably had some relationship with one or more of the carvings in aeons past. It is one of several tombs in the area.
Rainbow across the tomb
The site was only recently rediscovered in the 1980s, following an archaeological survey of the area before the forestry plantation was done. Measuring about 20 yards across and about five feet high, the large mound consists of the traditional mass of hundreds, if not thousands of stones. It seems that a ring of small uprights encircled and defined the edge of the cairn, although this element is only visible on its eastern side. Its northern mass and edges have been dug into and ruined at some point in the past, leaving a mass of rubble visible beneath the encroaching grasses. The tomb has not be adequately excavated, so we do not know whether it was built at the same time of the surrounding petroglyphs. It must be noted (again) that the incidence of tombs and cup-and-ring stones is not infrequent.
Park by the entrance to Ballochraggan, which is set back off the A81 between Aberfoyle and Port of Mentieth. Walk up the track, and just before you reach the cottage, notice the large boulder on your left, about 50 yards away. That’s it.
Archaeology & History
The Ballochraggan 1 Stone
This large dolmen-capstone-like boulder in front of the old cottage, was reported by Maarten von Hoek (1989) to possess about 10 faint cup-markings, with a large one near the centre of its upper surface. When Paul Hornby and I visited the site yesterday, several ‘cups’ were visible, but these were purely geological in nature; and even the large cup in the middle seemed somewhat dubious. The markings are the product of conglomerate rock, where smaller softer types of stone that are embedded in the boulder fall away, leaving cupmark-like indentations and other hollows. There are a lot of conglomerate rocks in these hills and it is essential that all students make themselves aware of the difference between the geological ‘cups’ and those forged by humans. In many cases this can be difficult, so apply the rule: if in doubt, kick it out—and err on the side of caution.
Some carvings in this region (and elsewhere in the country) possess conglomerate marks that have been enhanced and possess additional rings and carved lines. On this particular stone, such marks do not seem to exist. A dodgy example indeed…..
References:
von Hoek, Maarten, ‘Menteith (Port of Menteith parish): Rock Art Sites’, in Discovery & Excavation Scotland, 1989.
Acknowledgements: Huge appreciation to Paul Hornby for his photo and assessments.
Takes some finding this one! We parked up by the entrance to Ballochraggan on the A81 between Aberfoyle and Port of Mentieth. Walk up the track, then up the burnside past the house. Keep to its right-side and head uphill towards the very top of the forestry edge, staying in the grasslands. As you near the very top NE corner of the grassland boscage (NOT into the forest), about 100 yards before it, zigzag about through the gorse and keep your eyes peeled. It’s there!
Archaeology & History
This is a small, flat, smooth piece of stone with a simple carving clearly visible, in a region replete with highly impressive multiple-ringed petroglyphs. Very little has been said of this design and even the Canmore lads tell us only that the carving “includes one cup and ring marking and two cups within an oval ring.” And that’s that! However, other faint lines are evident on the surface of the stone, with the single cup-and-ring appearing to have another partial second-ring encircling a section of it. Outlying this are very shallow worn lines that seem to bear the hallmarks of human interference, but they were difficult to see with any certainty and our camera didn’t pick up additional elements with any real clarity. What seemed to be another cup-and-half-ring (not visible in the photos) was just beneath the edge of the grass where the rock fell back into the Earth.
Ballochraggan12, under cloud
The most catching element of the design is the very obvious ‘eye’ symbol peering up at us as we look down. Whether this symbol was deliberate or not, we can be sure that the old archaeologist O.G.S. Crawford (1957) would have loved it and added it to his old dreams of eye goddesses!
Other carvings nearby will blow your head off! The recently discovered Mask Stone, right next to this Ballochraggan 12 carving, being just a taster of the things to come.
Crawford, O.G.S., The Eye Goddess, Phoenix House: London 1957.
Naddair, Kaledon, et al, ‘Menteith (Port of Menteith Parish): Rock Ccarvings’, in Discovery & Excavation Scotland, 19, 1992.
Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland, The archaeological sites and monuments of Stirling District, Central Region, HMSO: Edinburgh 1979.
Acknowledgements: Huge appreciation to Paul Hornby for use of his photos. Cheers mate!
The genuine St. Bertram’s well is not easy to find and I recommend using the OS map carefully. It is reached by taking the footpath that leads off at the left passing the cross out of the village. Follow this until the end of the dry stone walling on the right and then divert from the footpath to the right where the well can be seen. The second well is easily found in the field between the church and the Hall.
Archaeology and History
Bertram is an interesting local saint, dating from around the 7th-8th century. Briefly, he is said to be of Royal Irish lineage but after making a princess pregnant, escaped to England where he sheltered in the woods around Ilam. The story is told by Alexander, a monk, in the 13th century who notes:
“They were in hiding in a dense forest when lo ! the time of her childbirth came upon them suddenly ; born of pain and river of sorrow! A pitiful child bed indeed! While Bertellinus went out to get the necessary help of a midwife the woman and her child breathed their last amid the fangs of wolves. Bertellinus on his return imagined that this calamity had befallen because of his own sin, and spent three days in mourning rites”.
As a result he became a hermit living in a cave in the valley near Ilam. Despite the earliest mention being Plot, the local geography is suggestive that this is the site of an early Christian hermitage site, although no mention of a well is noted in his legends it can be noted. Currently, the well is surrounded on four sides by varying low stone walling, about two feet or so at its highest (although it appears to have been built up and down over the time I have visited the well). The spring flows from a small, less than a foot square chamber, enclosed in stone and set into the bank through a channel in the rubble flow and out along the path towards it.
Since the 1990s, on the first Saturday in August, the Orthodox Church makes a pilgrimage to the site and blesses the well. Interestingly, literature available from the National Trust shop fails to mention this well, but notes a more substantial second St Bertram’s Well close by the church and surrounded by a rectangular stone wall with steps down, the water arises here at greater speed and flows into the nearby River Manifold. Visually it is more impressive and more accessible but whether there is any long tradition of this second well is unclear, but authors such as the Thompsons’s (2004) The Water of Life: Springs and Wells of Mainland Britain and Bord (2008) Holy Wells of Britain appear to have fostered its reputation.
Incidentally, the church boasts the remains of St Bertram’s shrine with foramina and the church yard has two Saxon crosses, making a visit to the village a must for those interested in early medieval history.
Folklore
“St Bertram’s Ash… grows over a spring which bears the name of the same Saint… The common people superstitiously believe, that tis very dangerous to break a bough from it: so great a care has St Bertram of his Ash to this very day. And yet they have not so much as a Legend amongst them, either of this Saint’s miracles, or what he was; onely that he was Founder of their Church”
Such notes Plot (1686) The Natural History of Stafford-Shire, the earliest reference of this fascinating site. By Browne (1888) in his An Account of the Three Ancient Cross Shafts, the Font, and St Bertram’s Shrine, at Ilam, noted that the ash had gone, but the water was still being used. He states that:
“The late Mrs Watts Russell always had her drinking water from it.”
Extracted and amended from the forthcoming Holy wells and healing springs of Staffordshire by R. B. Parish (2008)
The well now lies on private land and feds a trout farm (Beckets Well Trout Farm at The Castle House, Sevenoaks Rd, Otford in Sevenoaks). To find Becket’s Well go along the A225 to the centre of Otford, park in the car park ( in front of the row of terraced shops ) near the Bishop’s Palace. Take a small private road to Castle farm, now as said, a trout farm. Inquire here, if you are able to visit the well, which lies within a complex of fish pools to the east of the farm house.
Archaeology & History
The site has been well recorded in recent centuries, for example an account of 1876, describes the site as, “endorsed within a wall, forming a chamber 15 ft across and 10 ft deep.” Both the chamber’s appearance and shape suggests that is would be ideal for immersions, of which Harper and Kershaw (1923) notes that bath and steps are defied annually by the hop pickers. It is interesting to note that Thorne (1876), with no apparent reference, gives another connection with the saint, suggesting that, “to have used by the saint as a bath.” No subsequent or previous work draws notice to this, so it is likely to be antiquarian fancy. Another more plausible possibility is that it was used by the leper hospital found on this site around 1228. They would have clearly made use of the pure water for medicinal purposes and perhaps indeed used it as a bath.
Kirkham (1948) notes it was suffering from neglect being “now said to be choked up and half full of tins.” This decline would appear to have started a long time ago, as a folly tower, now demolished, was built on Otford Mount (a nearby earthwork), from the well’s stone work. Consequently, this degraded condition prompted excavation in the 1950s by the Otford and District Historical Society; of which the following details of their findings are briefly described.
The report noted that the well consisted of two chambers, with water emerging from two arched outlets into the first of these. This chamber is surrounded on three sides by walls, thirty-five feet by thirteen feet (east end), the walls are eight feet high, and at the same level of the ground. Six steps at the south-east end give access to the well chamber. The sluice wall is five feet high, eight feet wide, and is substantially buttressed on the western front. Water runs through this sluice wall, between steep banks westward, through a lower chamber, twenty-seven feet (north sides), and thirty-five feet (west side). The water then flowed through watercress and finally through an underground, probably Tudor conduit. This conduit then passes through the site of the Palace. This stream once fed a moat, but now discharges into the Bubblestone Brook, a Darenth tributary.
Local common thought was that the well is the remains of a Roman bath house, a belief echoed by its present owner; and a view endorsed by both Ward (1932) and Harper and Kershaw (1923), who note that it “is really a Roman Bath.” This view is further supported by the two surrounding Roman villas, and hence one aim of the excavation was to evaluate this long held claim. Yet, although they showed that the well had gone through considerable renovation and rebuilding over the centuries, no remains could be positively be dated to this period. This renovation, of course, resulted in a rarity of deposits, and hence with a lack of artefacts, the subsequent interpretation was thus difficult.
The excavation was further handicapped by the waterlogged conditions. Both may have influenced the results. Consequently, there are still doubts, and the concept of a Roman origin has not been satisfactorily disproved. The earliest written record is from Otford Ministers accounts of 1440-1, indicating that by then a stone structure existed here, but how old that was again is not clear. It states:
“To a carpenter for two days to make 2 gutters to bring water from the pool of the garden to the moat and for working on and laying another gutter beyond the water course and coming from the fountain of St. Thomas to old garden, 12d; and to a carpenter for one day covering a gutter with timber and cresting it, 6d. And for two masons for 2 days for placing and laying and making a new stone wall of the fountain of St. Thomas, broken for the pipe of the water conduit, 3s, taking between them daily 12d. To five labourers 10 days digging the soil between the said fountain and moat to lay in the leaden pipe of said conduit16s 8d taking each daily 4d.”
The present floor may be ascribed to that period; although it would seem to cover an earlier lower flint floor (again possibly Roman). Between 1520-1520, Archbishop Warkham, pulled down the then existing Manor house and built the Palace, covering four acres. This consequently required a better water supply, and hence the well was improved: the original lower chamber is said to originate from this period. The full purpose of the lower chamber is not clear, but it is believed that it may have housed cisterns giving a greater flow of water. When Henry VIII acquired the Palace from Archbishop Crammer in 1537, he spent money on improvements to the estate, and probably the well. The sluice gate, strengthened by Warham, was now supported by buttresses. These may have supported a conduit house. This was recorded in 1573:
“The condiyte house or well conteyning in length XXXVI foote and in breadth XIX fote to be taken downe and newe sett upp will coste XXX pounds. The pypes conveyinge the water from hence to the offyces and small sesterns to be amended will coste Xiii.”
By the 1600s, the Palace was in disrepair and the well was only used for private consumption by Castle farm. Despite this, restoration still continued and the north, east and south wall saw upper improvements by the 1700s. In the lower chamber a stone west wall was erected on Warham’s brick foundations. By this time, the south wall was beginning to collapse and was rebuilt in the 1800s.
By 1954 repairs were again needed, as the north wall was collapsing. Goodsall (1968) reported that even after its excavation in the late 1950s, the site then enclosed in railings was forlorn and overgrown with weeds. Forty years on, the present condition is similar to that illustrated in the contemporary photo, taken during the excavation: the intervening decades have seen the inevitable degradation, through time, of its infrastructure. Fortunately, the hideous railings have been removed, obviously to erect the trout farm infrastructure, whose water is supplied by the well. The walls appear now comparably greatly overgrown, which has probably preserved them, and the sluice wall, north, south and west walls appear the most ruinous, with the walling falling away towards the sluice wall. The walling was best preserved at the east end.
The clear spring appears to flow rapidly from its source, and has the appearance of being deeper. As stated, it now has now a commercial function, providing good quality water for the raising of trout flowing through a series of fish ponds replacing the cress beds. The owner in the 1990s, a Mrs. Burrows, believed that the well was originally roofed. The results of the excavation did not indicate this although it may be a mix-up with the possibility of a conduit house over the well. She also stated the water stayed the same temperature through the winter and summer, a constant 500 C, certainly beneficial to bathers.
Folklore
One of the best known holy wells among Kent antiquarians no doubt due to the colourful legend associated with it. This tells that whilst living here in the old manor—the ruins of which called the Bishop’s Palace still stand—St. Thomas bemoaned the lack of good water. As a remedy he struck his staff into the ground and clear water gushed forth. This is a familiar folklore motif and we shall see it again referred to at other Kent sites. Perhaps it recalls the saint ordering well digging to provide fresh water and marked the position with his staff! The legends earliest reference is made by Lambard (1571):
“..stake his staffe into the drie ground ( in a place thereof now called Sainte Thomas Well) and immediately the same water appeared, which running plentifully, serveth the offices of the new house to the present day.”
The well was said to be curative, but the exact nature of its curative powers are unknown, and although belief in them was waning by 1800s, rumours of its use continued to the last world war. The Gentlemen’s Magazine of June 1820 gives the only recorded account of a cure and states that:
“an old man, who, crippled by rheumatism, was completely renovated by this bath to health and action of circumstance witnessed by the late Lord Stanhope and several of the neighbouring gentry.”
(Extracted and amended from original blog page, which includes and addition holy well – Colet’s Well –
http://insearchofholywellsandhealingsprings.wordpress.com/2012/01/12/the-holy-wells-of-otford-kent/ – and from the forthcoming Holy Wells and Healing Springs of Kent – references quoted in the piece can be found therein.)
Healing Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – NS 5996 6406
Also Known as:
Arms Well
Archaeology & History
1865 OS-map of Arns Well, Glasgow
Taking its name from the local dialect word relating to Alder trees (Alnus glutinosua) that grew above the source of the waters, Arns Well had already been destroyed by the end of the 19th century, but prior to this it was renowned as one of the social gathering places in Glasgow Green. Highlighted on the original Ordnance Survey of the area in 1865, Arns Well was also a place where artists and poets gathered – and a number of old prints of Glasgow were drawn from here.
Originally the waters emerged from marshy ground and used to be known as “the Peat Bog,” but by 1777 a small well house was built to contain the waters and make it a feature in the wider architectural landscape of the Glasgow Green park area. Once the spring had been channelled, its waters “were considered to be amongst the best to be had in Glasgow, particularly for making tea and adding to whisky.” In James Clelands’s (1813) municipal survey of the area he told how some thought that the water supply from Arns Well was “inexhaustible.”
From the old cross in the middle of the village, walk along the A820 Balkerach Street main road (NOT down George Street) until you reach Station Wynd on your right. Walk up here for 100 yards towards the new housing estate (don’t buy these places – they’re dreadful quality beneath the veneers) and there, on a small grassy rise on the left just before the car park, stands our stone!
Archaeology & History
This little-known monolith on the northern edge of little Doune village, was recently moved a short distance from its original position thanks to another one of those sad Barratt housing estates being built here; but at least it has received protection with the surrounding fence and notice board telling its brief history and folklore (better than being destroyed I s’ppose).
Stone on 1866 OS map
Standing less than five feet tall, local lore tells that it has been moved around close to this spot several times in the last couple of centuries. Although not mentioned in Hutchinson’s (1893) essay on local megaliths, the stone was highlighted on the 1866 Ordnance Survey of Doune, where the non-antiquated lettering showed how it was thought to be Roman in origin, not prehistoric.
Folklore
Trysting Stane, looking NE
The name of the stone comes from it being used as a place where deeds were sworn, with the stone as witness to the words proclaimed by both parties (implying a living presence, or animistic formula of great age). This activity was continued in the local ‘trysts’ or cattle fairs held a mile away, where buyers swore the sale of cattle at this stone—again with the stone being ‘witness’ to the spoken deals. It was also used as a counter where gold was exchanged for cattle bought and sold during the Michaelmas and Martinmas Fairs. Sue Harvey (2006) told that this standing stone,
“was called the Devil’s Head and was used during past Doune fairs to count gold on when cattle were being bought and sold.”
In local newspaper accounts from the 1950s, local historian Moray S. Mackay (1984) told how the children of the village used to gather round the stone, holding hands, and sing,
Olie Olie, peep, peep, peep,
Here’s the man with the cloven feet,
Here’s his head, but where’s his feet?
Olie Olie, peep, peep, peep.
Notice board telling its tale…Looking at the stone on its rise
This implies the stone once possessed a myth relating to a petrified ancestral deity of animistic (pre-christian) origin, but as yet we have found no additional information allowing us a confirmation of this probability. A correlate of this theme—i.e., of the stone being the head of a deity—is found in West Yorkshire (amongst many other places), where one of the little known Cuckoo Stones was once known to be a local giant until a hero-figure appeared and cut off his head, leaving only his body which was then turned to stone. Mircea Eliade (1958; 1963) cites examples of animistic religious rites and events explaining this early petrification formula via creation myths, etc. (we find very clear evidences of animistic worldviews and practices still prevailing in the mountains just a few miles north and west, still enacted by local people)
Folklore also alleged that the stone was Roman in nature, but neither archaeology nor the architectural form of the stone implies this. Roman stones were cut and dressed—unlike the traditional looking Bronze Age, rough, uncut fella standing here.
References:
Eliade, Mircea, Patterns in Comparative Religion, Sheed & Ward: London 1958.
Eliade, Mircea, Myth and Reality, Harper & Row: San Francisco 1963.
Harvey, Sue, Doune and Deanston, Kilmadock Development Centre 2006.
Hutchinson, A.F., “The Standing Stones of Stirling District,” in The Stirling Antiquary, volume 1, 1893.
Go up the B6160 road, heading for Kilnsey Crag. A few hundred yards past the famous crags, take the little road to Arncliffe. About a mile up, where you reach the second building on the left-side of the road, walk up behind here, up the steep fields and towards the craggy heights above. Keep right uphill till you see the cluster of cairns on the peak above; but before reaching them, walk over the rocky landscape to your left (southeast) and you’ll eventually see an excess of straight walling a coupla hundred yards away. That’s it!
Archaeology & History
A bittova climb to get here – but well worth it in the end. On a spur of land amidst the outstanding limestone plateaux less than a mile south of Arncliffe village, rising near the silent ghostly cairns upon Knotts ridge above it, we come across an extensive prehistoric settlement complex. It is one of many in this upland region.
Looking south at the settlementKnott cairns above the settlement
Poorly described (if at all) by official archaeology websites, this place is big! All that we can see today at ground level are lines of very extensive lines of enclosure walling, between one and three feet high, intersecting each other and forming very large rectangles growing further and further out from each other towards the western scree. Much of the walled structures are in good condition if they are prehistoric, as presumed by archaeologists; but it seems obvious that the site was in continuous use by local people for domestic and agricultural purposes all through medieval and later periods.
One of the settlement hut circlesRaised lines of ancient walling
The longest stretch of visible walling runs from northeast to southwest and measures 175 yards long (160m), with several stretches of parallel walling splitting the settlement into different sections of large enclosures all attached to each other. These parallel walls measure a maximum of 54 yards (49.5m) and run northwest to southeast. The aerial image of the site shows the structures very clearly in some parts. Others are more vague and some are difficult to see at ground level. But the settlement as a whole cannot be missed. Several hut circles have been built inside the main rectangular enclosures, with two others faintly visible on the outer edges.
As far as I’m aware, no excavations have taken place here, so we are still grasping at periodic straws when it comes to dating the place. When Arthur Raistrick (1929) wrote his article about the associated enclosures like that at Blue Scar, a short distance to the east, he thought them to be Iron Age in origin. He may well right. A singular enclosure circle can be found a few hundred yards to the south.
References:
Elgee, Frank & Harriet, The Archaeology of Yorkshire, Methuen: London 1933.
Raistrick, Arthur & Chapman, S.E., ‘The Lynchet Groups of Upper Wharfedale, Yorkshire,’ in Antiquity, volume 3, 1929.
