Cup-Marked Stone (lost): OS Grid Reference – SD 950 488
Archaeology & History
When the archaeology assistant Stuart Feather ventured over to look at the prehistoric enclosure on the northwest slope of Raygate Hill, a mile or so south-west of Carleton, like any good petroglyph explorer he looked out for any rock art and—like y’ do sometimes—came across a cup-marked stone that hadn’t been recorded before. He wrote down his finds at home and, following his death, those records were thankfully sent to the Manor House Museum in Ilkley, from where these brief notes are taken. There was at the time of his visit, he said, a
“Rock outcrop with two cup-marks, on August 6th 1960 this outcrop was intact. On a second visit the top layer of the rock had become detached and split into two. The pieces were then removed for preservation.”
By “removed for preservation”, he meant that he took it home to Fernbank Avenue in Keighley (he did this with a few of our old cup-and-rings). However, this one has not been found since and it may simply have been buried in his garden. Does anyone know more about it?
He described another less likely contender of a carving a little closer to the enclosure, telling briefly: “Cup-marked rock, cups only possibly man-made. In close proximity, 75 yards, to (the) earthwork marked on the 6” O.S. map.”
Probably best if you start from the car-parking spot at Acrehowe, by taking the road up through Baildon village, across at the roundabout up Northgate and up onto the moor, then after a few hundred yards turn left on the Bingley Road. The Acrehowe parking spot is a half-mile up on your right. From here, cross the road and bear right to take the footpath that follows the contour at the edge of the hillside, walking past the Baildon Moor (184) carving on the way. About 250 yards past this carving, on the right-side of the track as you’re heading to Dobrudden, is this low-lying almost innocuous stone. Keep your eyes peeled and you’ll see it.
Archaeology & History
The carving looking WCup-marks clearly visible
This cup-marked stone was first unearthed by fellow rock art explorers Mike Short and Dave Spencer in 2012 after they’d been looking at some of the other carvings hereby. In peeling back the turf on the stone, otherwise hidden cups—perhaps nine in all—were uncovered that had been hidden for centuries. Most of them are quite distinct, but it seems that a couple of the cups may have been left unfinished, as their size isn’t consistent with the others on this and other carvings close by.
The carved stone—located on the northern edge of the Low Plain prehistoric cemetery—is one in a line of several low earthfast rocks that crosses the track hereby and it’s possible that it was part of some prehistoric walling. Linear remains of walls and ditches were reported here in the 19th century and some of them can still be seen in some places on this part of the hill, but much of it has been destroyed.
Somewhere close to the aptly-named Ladywell House (now a beauty salon) on the south-side of High Ackworth (just as you’re going into the village on your left) there was once a holy well, seemingly no longer with us. It was described in Saywell’s (1894) history of the town as one of the “antiquities” in the area. He told that,
Spring Well – Lady Well?
“This very ancient well is one of the several public wells, which has in recent years somehow become enclosed. From what it derived its name is not known, but from the fact of its being the oldest, it is not unlikely that it was originally set apart by some religious service, and dedicated to ‘Our Lady’ for the use of the inhabitants of the village. In pre-reformation times this custom was common, some wells having miraculous powers ascribed to their waters by the superstitious, like the well of St. Keyne, and in modern times, the ‘Holy Wells’ in Ireland; but nothing of the sort attaches to the well of ‘Our Lady’ at Ackworth.”
To the rear of the old cottages was once a ‘Spring Well’, as shown on the 1852 Ordnance Survey map. It’s possible that this was our Lady Well, dedicated in ancient times to St. Mary. Does anyone know? And is it still there?
References:
Saywell, Joseph L., The Parochial History of Ackworth, James Atkinson: Pontefract 1894.
Acknowledgements:Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.
The King Stone of Rollright (photo by Sir Wilson III)
If you’ve reached the impressive Rollright Stone circle, simply cross the road, go through the gate and into the field, then up the gentle slope to your right. Y’ can’t miss it! If though, by any chance, you can’t find the Rollright Stones, get to Chipping Norton and ask a local!
Archaeology & History
An integral part of the Rollright Stones complex, this gnarled almost moth-eaten-looking standing stone, whose edges were cut away for medicinal properties in earlier centuries, still awakes each morning beside the small rise in the field, long thought to have been the remains of an ancient tomb — much to the archaeologist’s opinionated disdain in bygone years. Yet they had to swallow their pride…
This is an eight-foot-tall standing stone made from the same local oolitic limestone as the King’s Men and overlooks the village of Long Compton on the northern side of the ridge. It actually stands besides an artificial mound which has been identified as a Bronze Age cairn—known in times past as the ‘Archdruid’s Barrow’— and suggested by Lambrick to date from around 1800 BCE. More recently however, the world’s leading authority on stone circles, Professor Aubrey Burl, has given the King Stone a more probable construction date of 3000 BCE. The date is consistent with other Neolithic finds in the adjacent fields. This old standing stone has suffered much down the centuries, with bits of it being chipped away to such an extent that it has been reduced to the novel shape we see today.
Looking up at the King (photo by Sir Wilson III)The King in dance
A little-known but important piece of megalithic history took place here in the 1970s and ’80s. It centred around an idea to investigation so-called “mysterious events” that are commonly reported at standing stones—and the King Stone has its own CV when it comes to such things. Curious stories have been described by people from all walks of life. Down the years, a number of people have told me of feeling some strange and powerful ‘energy’ at these places and stories of such things have filled many volumes, along with being the subject of many a folktale. So one evening in November, 1977, the then editor of The Ley Hunter, Paul Devereux, convened a meeting where twenty people from differing backgrounds gathered. At this first meeting were people from a variety of professional backgrounds: archaeologists, dowsers, chemists, biochemists, biologists, electronic engineers, geochemists, geophysicists, zoologists—and ley hunters of course. It was time, they thought, to address this issue of anomalous energies at stone circles and other ritual sites.
After some discussion about what they should call their investigations, “the long association of the dragon with some kind of earth force made it a fitting symbol.” And so, the Dragon Project (DP) was born…
On the misty morning of Saturday, 24 October, 1978, research scientist Don Robins—in the company of his dog and young son—drove the hundred miles from London to the Rollright Stones armed with a simple ultrasound detector. He didn’t know what he would find there, and his scientific training told him there shouldn’t really be anything untoward.
King Stone, looking W (photo by Sir Wilson III)Stukeley’s 1743 sketch showing the King Stone
Arriving around dawn, Robins took several background readings along some of the lanes a mile or so away and found the usual expected background levels (on a scale of 1-10, the background flickers between 0 and 1). When he eventually walked into the Rollright stone circle with his ultrasound monitor, no undue perturbations were found. He spent thirty minutes here, but at no time did he record anything other than background readings. So he crossed the road and tried the same at the King Stone—where a big surprise awaited him.
Switching on the detector he found an anomalously high reading, beating every minute or so, not unlike a heartbeat, more than five times above the background ultrasound!
“This was really peculiar,” he wrote, “in that the pattern was spread over about a minute and then commenced again after about 10 seconds, endlessly repeated.” Robins spent some time here and found that the strange ‘pulse’ wasn’t solely confined to the King Stone, but spread some distance around the old standing stone and onto the road itself.
Investigation of potential radiation anomalies was another avenue of enquiry explored by the Dragon Project, and although thousands of hours of monitoring were done at the three focal sites, there were few anomalies to write home about. Two however, were recorded in March and August, 1981, when radiation levels were twice the normal background rate for short periods of just a few minutes each. More puzzling was the finding—which can still be verified today—of radiation levels three and four times above background on the road between the circle and the King Stone.
Next on the list was an attempt to monitor the Rollright stones with infrared devices. This proved to be a potential goldmine, as there was the chance of photographic imagery. So early one morning in April, 1979, Paul Devereux readied himself at the King Stone. He took a number of photos at five minute intervals either side of sunrise. This time of day was chosen because of the repeated anomalous ultrasound emissions from the King and it was thought that this, if any, would be the best time to capture something on film.
“When the first roll of black-and-white IR film was professionally developed,” he wrote, “I was astonished to see a curious ‘glow’ effect around the King stone on the frame taken at sunrise.” His first account of it appeared in The Ley Hunter, where he described how “a hazy glow can be seen clinging to the sides and upper parts of the megalith. This glow becomes much stronger at the top of the stone where it looks like a cap of light.” Although the sun had risen, it was off to the left of picture and apparently no satisfactory explanation can be given to the effect on the plate. Research physicist Simon Hasler—who worked for Kodak—closely studied the negatives of this image and found the evidence for a simple explanation “weak.” A possible explanation of the mysterious glow was propounded by Don Robins, who suggested that an emission of microwaves from the stone may have been responsible, and although this sounds promising it has yet to be proven.
Folklore
(photo by Sir Wilson III)
Amidst the mass of modern lore, dowsed energy lines exceed here — although to be honest, most of them are little more than bullshit. Old school alignments in the form of leys that can be walked along are more credible, and one or two have been noted here. Dowser Laurence Main found a ley running between Broughton Church, “the old White Cross, the Victorian Cross and the old Bread Cross in Banbury. In the other direction the line led straight to the King Stone.” Although this line accurately links up these sites, other ‘ley points’ are utterly necessary between Broughton Church and the King Stone to give the alignment any real credibility. In a concise survey of the megalithic remains of this region made by Tom Wilson and myself, no other ley-points were found along the line.
In more traditional animist-based folklore, the creation myth here is well known. The famous, oft-repeated tale recites how a King and his men were marching across the land intent on conquering it when he came across an old hag, or witch near Rollright who offered the regal figure a magickal challenge. Some accounts name the witch as Mother Shipton—not the famous Yorkshire seer of the same name, but her less powerful (obviously!) southern counterpart. The old witch said to the King:
“Seven long strides thou shalt take, and
If Long Compton thou can’st see,
King of England thou shalt be.”
His majesty took this as a simple task and, with contempt, said to the old witch:
“Stick, stock, stone,
As King of England I shall be known.”
From where he was standing (which is never told, but presumed by most as the stone circle) the King then took seven long strides in the direction of Long Compton. As he was taking his seventh step the witch made the ground in front of him rise up, hence blocking his view of the village in the valley below. The old hag then said:
“As Long Compton thou canst not see,
King of England thou shalt not be.
Rise up, stick, and stand still, stone,
For King of England thou shalt be none;
Thou and thy men hoar stones shall be
And I myself an eldern tree.”
Thereupon, the King’s men who were waiting behind their master, the five knights in the field who were said to be conspiring against his majesty, and the King himself, were all turned into stone where they stood. The elder tree that the old witch turned herself into, was said to have grown along the old boundary close to the roadside, but this can no longer be verified. The folklorist Arthur Evans described several spots where the famed elder tree was said to have grown: one in the field close to the Whispering Knights, and another in the same field as the King Stone, close by another large stone that has long since gone.
When William Stukeley visited the area in the 18th century and heard about the legendary origin of these great monoliths, he told how “the country people for some miles round are very fond of, and take it very ill if anyone doubts it,” telling later, “The people who live at Chipping Norton and all the country round our first described temple of Rowldrich affirm most constantly, and as surely believe it, that the stones composing this work are a king, his nobles, and Commons turned into stones.
Another piece of animistic lore tells how the King Stone and the Whispering Knights venture, at midnight, less than half a mile south to drink from a spring in the small woodland at Little Rollright Spinney—although it is difficult to ascertain precisely which of the two springs the stones are supposed to visit. In some accounts, the stones reputedly drink from the well every night, but others tell that they only go there at certain times of the year, or on saint’s days. When Arthur Evans wrote of these tales he described there being a “gap in the bushes… through which they go down to the water,” but the terrain has altered since his day.
A variation of the same tale was told by T.H. Ravenhill, who wrote:
The old King c.1945King Stone, c.1920
“The Lord of the Manor of Little Rollright desired to possess the King’s Stone in order to bridge Little Rollright brook. So he dug it up and tried to cart it away, but found that he had not enough horses. He hitched on more, and yet more, and still he found that he could not move the stone. Finally he succeeded and hauled the stone away to the Manor House. The same night he was alarmed by strange sounds about the house, which he attributed to the presence of the King’s Stone, and decided, therefore, to replace it on its mound. No sooner had he harnessed the first horse to the cart than it galloped away up hill with ease, taking with it the stone, which leapt to position on reaching its resting place.”
Evans also wrote about an eighty-year-old local woman who told that her mother visited the King Stone on Midsummer’s Eve, along with many other locals, when the elder was in full bloom and they would stand in a full circle around the tall monolith. Ritual of a sort was performed then the elder tree was cut and, as it bled, “the King moved his head.” This annual rite was said to partially disempower the witch of her magickal hold over the King when her blood trickled from the tree. Some locals believed that if but a pin-prick of the witch’s blood was drawn, she would lose her power for all eternity.
Beneath both the Rollright stone circle and the King Stone, legend reputes there to be such a cavern where the little people live. In some accounts they are said to dance around the old King.
Arthur Evans told how one local man, Will Hughes, actually saw the faerie dancing round the King.
“They were little folk like girls to look at,” he said.
Old postcard, c.1910Sketch from 1904
Will’s widow, Betsy Hughes, told Evans that “when she was a girl and used to work in the hedgerows, she remembered a hole in the bank by the King Stone, from which it is said the fairies came out to dance at night. Many a time she and her playmates had placed a flat stone over the hole of an evening to keep the fairies in, but they always found it turned over next morning.” This curious entrance was a neolithic burial mound. Mark Turner described how the little people were “supposed to come out and dance around the stones by moonlight.”
As we have already seen, people used to take chippings off some of the old stones here—primarily the King—supposedly for luck, protection and good fortune. Local people used to blame Welsh workers more than anyone, but they wouldn’t be the only ones! Although those who took such chippings believed the pieces brought them luck, more often than not it was the opposite that happened. One local woman told Evans about her son who went to India as a soldier in the 19th century with a piece of the King Stone in his possession, but it did him no good whatsoever. He died of typhus! The Oxford archaeologist George Lambrick (1988) highlights in his book on the Rollright stones the extent of damage that has been done to the King Stone since 1607.
References:
Anonymous, The Rollright Stones: Theories and Legends, privately printed, n.d.
Bennett, Paul & Wilson, Tom, The Old Stones of Rollright and District, Cockley: London 1999.
Bloxham, Christine, Folklore of Oxfordshire, Tempus 2005.
Cowper, B.H., ‘Oxfordshire Legend in Stone,’ Notes & Queries (1st series), 7, January 15, 1853.
Devereux, Paul, ‘Is This the Image of the Earth Force?’ in The Ley Hunter 87, 1979.
Devereux, Paul, ‘Operation Merlin,’ in The Ley Hunter 88, 1980.
Devereux, Paul, ‘Operation Merlin 2,’ in The Ley Hunter 89, 1980.
Devereux, Paul, ‘The Third Merlin,’ in The Ley Hunter 92, 1981.
Devereux, Paul, Places of Power, Blandford: London 1990.
Devereux, Paul, The Sacred Place, Cassell: London 2000.
Evans, Arthur J., ‘The Rollright Stones,’ in Trans. Bristol & Glouc. Arch. Soc., 40, 1892.
Evans, Arthur J., ‘The Rollright Stones and their Folklore (3 parts),’ in Folklore Journal, 1895.
Lambrick, George, The Rollright Stones: The Archaeology and Folklore of the Stones and their Surroundings, Oxford Archaeology Review 1983. (Reprinted and updated in 1988.)
Michell, John, Megalithomania, Thames & Hudson: London 1982.
Pennick, Nigel & Devereux, Paul, Lines on the Landscape, Hale: London 1989.
Ravenhill, T.H., The Rollright Stones and the Men Who Erected Them, Little Rollright 1926.
You can walk up from Menston, up Moor Lane north-west towards the moor, then turning left when you hit the moorland road of Hillings Lane. Nearly 350 yards along, turn right up the track known as Occupation lane onto the moor. More than half-a-mile up, past the gate at the Bee Stone, where the track splits, keep to the left and head further uphill, roughly parallel with the fence on your left. Literally ¼-mile (0.4 km) up from the split, you’re looking almost straight down at the reservoir; but to your left, walk towards the fence. Zigzag about! You can also approach it from the Grubstones and Great Skirtful area, by following the Occupation Lane track eastwards down the slope until you’re roughly level with the same reservoir.
Archaeology & History
On this somewhat isolated stone on the northern sloping edge of Craven Hall Hill we find a small cluster of shallow cup-marks, first noted in the 1980s and eventually mentioned in a survey by Boughey & Vickerman (2003) where they described it as a,
“Low, medium striated rock lying in slope of hill. SE end carries possibly up to eleven cups, possibly two sets grouped in arcs running into natural striations of rock, one of which may have been artificially enhanced by pecking.”
Shallow cup-marks
The view from here is quite something: gazing east to the heathen hilltop of Otley Chevin (Beltane rites and rock art — albeit not much), north-east to the far uplands of the White Horse of Kilburn, then across the northern panoramas of Askwith and Denton Moors, and beyond. Some archaeologists have started to believe that such vistas may have had relevance with such carvings, sometimes. They’ve caught up at last! 🙂 Anyhow, the carving itself is pretty simplistic and probably only of interest to the real petroglyph nuts amongst you – although it’s mebbe worth checking out if you’re visiting the Great Skirtful giant cairn and its very impressive hengi-form neighbour.
References:
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS: Wakefield 2003.
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding – Supplement, YAS 2018.
Acknowledgements: With thanks to Tom Cleland for help in relocating the site on a recent visit.
Numerous ways to get here: probably the easiest (direction wise) is if you’re coming from Dick Hudson’s public house on the southern road surrounding Rombalds Moor. From the pub, head left (east) along Otley Road (passing Weecher reservoir) for 1.9 miles (3.1km) until you reach Reva reservoir where a track leads you to the waters. A small parking spot is on the left-side of the road. From here, go through the gate and along the footpath across the field for nearly 300 yards to the next gate. Go through here and immediately follow the walling down to your left for about 135 yards to the edge of the rushes. It’s there!
Archaeology & History
Single cupmark nr the top
On a recent visit to the Fraggle Rock carving, Tom Cleland foraged about at the edge of what was, in centuries gone by, a good flowing stream below the west slope of Reva Hill. An old pathway cut across one section of it near where the walling now runs, covered these days in the mass of Juncus reeds, typical of mashy grounds. And here, just where folk would cross the waters, Tom found a good sized stone with a single deep cup-mark on its crown, calling through a feast of lichens to be seen once more. There may be a second cup-mark by its side, but the light wasn’t good when we were here, so that’ll be worked out some other day. Anyhow, this one’s probably only for the crazy petroglyph hunters out there. It’s the Fraggle Rock and its companios that you’re gonna be looking for, nearby….
In Steeton, walk up the High Street and after a hundred yards or so, turn right to go up to Quarry House (opposite Falcon Cliffe), up past Quarry Cottages to the end where it turns into a track. Follow the track for 200 yards, where it bends left, then immediately right go into the field, following the wall along for 450 yards where you’ll go through a gate to another rocky steep hill-slope. Walk up by the side of the walling here, at the edge of the trees and, once at the top, bear right and a few yards along keep your eyes peeled. You’re virtually on top of it!
Archaeology & History
Not previously recorded, this is an unusual design: unusual in more ways than one. Firstly, it’s not entirely ‘ancient’; and secondly, the linearity in some of the carved lines around the cup-marks is unusual. It reminded me a little of the Hanging Stones above Ilkley, with its deeply cut lines, swerving around cup-marks, whose lack of ‘ancient’ guise is somewhat betrayed by the fact that Victorian quarry operations uncovered them—much like happened here…
It was first noticed in 2024 by Collette Walsh during a petroglyphic foray in the area. She noticed the distinct cup-marks on the rock surface, but then when she noticed a distinct quarrying mark, she dropped the idea that it was prehistoric. But this distinct quarry or stone-mason mark—executed sometime in the 19th century when the Industrialists were working here—shouldn’t take our attention away from the cup-marks; nor indeed all aspects of the other carved lines that swing round the edges of the deepest of the three cups, which is surrounded by a long curved triangle, some of which was carved into a natural crack, highlighting it more. The single outlying cup looked, from some angles when wet, that it may have had a partial ring around it—but we were unsure and it may have just been a trick of the light, along with our desire to see more than there actually is. Anyhow, it’s worth seeing. But we could do with a stonemason to check it out, enabling us a better assessment of which bits of this design are old and which are not-so-old.
Acknowledgements: To Collette Walsh for uncovering this design; and to Tom Cleland for showing me where it lives!
Holy Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SW 7202 5073
Archaeology & History
Not to be confused with another St. Agnes’ Well near the coast just 1½ miles southwest of here, this ‘holy well’ was found in the middle of the town itself. It was first described sometime between 1710 and 1720 by a certain Thomas Tonkin who penned lengthy notes about the history of the parish of St Agnes and, therein, mentioned this Well which was, he said, located “by the Cross before the Church.” But it had already been drained and “cut off”, as he put it, some years prior to him writing his notes.
More than two hundred years later, on 3 December 1931, the West Briton & Cornwall Advertiser reported on an excavation that took place of the nave of St Agnes church. The vicar, a Rev W.H. Browne, said that,
“On the west side there was evidence of water, which might have been a spring and possibly the holy well. We shall have to preserve it if it turns out to be what we anticipate it is. How this is to be done, I do not know, but we cannot allow it to be covered in again without doing something. It is creating tremendous interest, and will cause a great fight among the experts.”
Several years later, the great Cornish hagiographer Gilbert Dobie (1940) also mentioned the excavation, noting the wet area which they believed was the location of the well, also noting, “at the same time…the finding of remains of an earlier chapel.”
References:
Doble, Gilbert H., History of St Piran, 1940.
Tonkin, Thomas, “The Parish of St Agnes,” in Journal royal Institute Cornwall (eds. P.A.S. Pool & H.S Douch), volume 7 (2nd series), 1975.
The location of this site has proved troublesome. Even when Rob Wilson (1991) did his local survey of holy wells he was unable to locate it—but it looks as if it shouldn’t be too troublesome to find, as the area in which it flowed is still very much a mix of open countryside and maintained landscapes. Described briefly as the “Wishing Well near Whiteley Wood” in Sidney Addy’s (1893) fine work, he makes a rather hopeful attempt to derive the word ‘wishing’ from German mythology, where “one of the names of the god Wuotan or Odin was Wunsch or Wish.” But – well – you just never know…..
In the landscape at Whiteley Wood there is a Priest’s Hill, so if this Well was found there, it may indeed have had an authentic ‘holy’ designation. But there were a couple of ponds in the area too, which may be fed by this spring. So, first, we need to find the well!
References:
Addy, Sidney Oldall, The Hall of Waltheof, William Townsend: Sheffield 1893.
Wilson, Rob, Holy Wells and Spas of South Yorkshire, Northern Arts: Sheffield 1991.
An important water source for local folk in Castley hamlet in previous centuries, this was one of several so-called ‘Wishing Wells’ above the higher banks of the River Wharfe a few miles from each other. It’s a title which, to be honest, was afforded the place when its original local name was removed. It was quite obviously a sacred well in earlier times, as it’s found beneath the slope of Chapel Hill, looking eastwards towards the rising sun, when the waters here (as at countless others) had their greatest remedial or magickal powers. Tradition told there was once a small chapel above the well itself. The spring was highlighted on early Ordnance Survey maps, but all that seems left here today is an occasional boggy mass in the trees at the bottom of the sloping hill.
The old folklorist and antiquarian Edmund Bogg (1904) wrote the following about it:
‘Wishing’ Well on 1888 map
“On the terraced bank near the garden, ’neath an overhanging hawthorn, is a beautiful spring of clear sparkling water, which is locally known as Castley ‘wishing-well.’ More than once we have heard the women-folk declare how, in their maidenhood, they loitered down the bank to the well, usually at eventide, when the birds were warbling their vesper song, and placed their offerings there in silence, yet breathing, as it were, the mute longing of their heart’s desire. It is a natural grotto fit habitation of fairies or the traditional elves. The bank, in which the well is situated, is known as ‘Snake Bank.’”
References:
Edmund Bogg, Higher Wharfeland, James Miles: Leeds 1904.
Acknowledgements:Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.
