Standing Stone (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – NS 681 490
Archaeology & History
This is another Lanarkshire monolith that’s gone, but which was described first of all in the 19th century in the Ordnance Survey place-name book for the county. The Scottish Royal Commission (1978) lads—who tried locating the site in September, 1973—told that,
“no trace now survives of the stone, 1.4m in height (i.e., about four-and-half feet tall – Ed.), that once stood in a field beside the public road about 120m northeast of Shawton Farmhouse.”
References:
Royal Commission on the Ancient & Historical Monuments, Scotland, Lanarkshire: Prehistoric and Roman Monuments, HMSO: Edinburgh 1978.
Standing Stone (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – NS 832 426
Archaeology & History
The first reference I found of this once-proud standing stone was in the early pages of the Glasgow Archaeological Society’s Transactions, from 1897; but when the Royal Commission lads came to look for the site in 1971, it had long-since been destroyed. Thankfully we have various folklore relics to tell us more!
Folklore
In Robert Chambers’ Popular Rhymes (1826), he told us several intriguing pieces of folklore about this once great monolith, writing:
“On the farm of Clerkston, in the parish of Lesmahagow, there had existed since creation an immense stone, or saxum, which, being deeply bedded in the middle of a good field, at a great distance from any other rocks, was productive of infinite inconvenience to the husbandman, and defrauded the proprietor of a considerable portion of territory.
“Beneath this stone, it was believed by the country people of the last generation, that there was secreted a vast treasure, in the shape of “a kettle-full, a boot-full, and a bull-hide-full,” of gold; all which got the ordinary name, reason unknown, of “katie Neevie’s hoord.” The credibility of this popular tradition was attested by a rhyme to the following effect:
Between Dillerhill and Crossfoord,
Here Lies Katie Neevie’s Hoord.
“Many efforts had been made, according to the gossips, to remove the stone, and get at the treasure; but all were baffled by the bodily appearance of the enemy of mankind, who, by breathing intolerable flame in the faces of those making the attempt, obliged them to desisted. Thus well guarded, the legacy of Mrs. Katherine Niven lay for centuries as snug as if it had been deposited in Chancery; and it was not till at least an hundred years after the last despairing effort had been made that the charm was at length broke.
“Mr James Prentice, the present farmer of Clerkston, had the address to convince several Irishmen, who had served him during the harvest, of the truth of the said rhyme; and, by expatiating upon the supposed immensity of the treasure, wrought up their curiosity and their cupidity to such a pitch, that they resolved, with his permission, to break the stone in pieces, and make themselves master of whatever might be found below. On the day after the kirn, therefore, the poor fellows provided themselves with a well-loaded gun, for the protection of their persons from the Devil, and fell to work, with punches and mallets, to blow up and utterly destroy the huge stone which alone intervened between them and everlasting affluence.
“They laboured the whole day, without provoking any visit from Satan, and at last succeeded in fairly eradicating the stone from the field which it had so long encumbered; when they became at once convinced of the fallacy of the rhyme, of the craft of Mr. Prentice, and of their own deluded credulity.”
References:
Chambers, Robert, The Popular Rhymes of Scotland, William Hunter: Edinburgh 1826.
Royal Commission for the Ancient & Historical Monuments of Scotland, Lanarkshire: Prehistoric and Roman Monuments, HMSO: Edinburgh 1978.
The grid reference here is an approximation, but the old well was definitely somewhere very close by, as evidenced by the place-name of the farmhouse. But if you wanna get here and wander about in the hope that you can re-locate this once sacred water source, go up the B1269 road north of Guisborough for about a mile. Carling Howe farmhouse is on the left-hand side of the road. Obviously the old well is somewhere close by…
Archaeology & History
The information I have of this site comes from old place-name listings. I found the reference in the directory for North Yorkshire by A.H. Smith (1928), in his entry for the etymology of ‘Carling Howe’ at Guisborough. Smith ascribes the references of ‘Kerlinghou’ (which itself appears to have been lost) to mean the ‘Old woman’s mound’ and variants thereof, also saying, “There is an unidentified place in this township called Kerlingkelde,” (12th century ref. Guisborough Cartulary)—the ‘Old Woman’s Well’. Very commonly in this part of Yorkshire—as at many other locations in northern England—a hou or howe (and variants thereof) relates to a prehistoric tomb – which is probably what we had here: a prehistoric Old Woman’s Grave with an associated Old Woman’s Well in close attendance.
The ‘old woman’ element in this name very probably relates to that primal mythic deity, the cailleach, the great prima mater of indigenous heathen folk, beloved mainly in Scottish and Irish lore, where her copious name and tales resonate to this day. This “well of the Old Woman, or cailleach“, would have been a place of particular importance in the mythic cosmology of our ancestors, but its precise whereabouts seems forgotten. There is a plentiful supply of water around Carling Howe Farm, one or more of which may once have been the site of this well. However, a lot of quarrying operations occurred here in the not-too-distant past, and this may have irreparably damaged our ability to accurately find the site – though perhaps a perusal of old field-maps could be productive.
It would also be good if we could locate the original whereabouts of the old tomb here which gave the place its name – the ‘Carling Howe’. Other ‘howe’ sites in East and North Yorkshire turn out to be prehistoric burials and I have little doubt that the same occurred here.
References:
o’ Crualaoich, Gearoid, The Book of the Cailleach, Cork University Press 2003.
Smith, A.H., The Place-Names of the North Riding of Yorkshire, Cambridge University Press 1928.
From Killin, travel down Glen Lochay, past Stag Cottage or Duncroisk and over the shallow river of Allt Dhun Croisg. If you’re in a car you can park up a 100 yards past the river bridge and walk up the track from here. After a 10 minute walk, above the trees you come to the derelict village of Tirai* where, until recently, you were greeted by a tall totem-pole of a gnarled tree (it was superb!) which is now Earth-lain, and a fine view of the evolving hills. Here amidst the ruins we also find a standing stone or two.
Archaeology & History
The village of Tirai was deserted sometime in the 19th century (due to the disgusting clearances of the English), but at least two standing stones still live amidst its ruins. The tallest is nearly four-feet tall in the middle of the grassy patch and is much used by grateful cattle to rub themselves against when midges and horseflies drive them mad! The Scottish Royal Commission lads reckon the megaliths here are,
“possibly a survivor of a stone circle as a similar stone is used nearby as a gate-post to an enclosure and several other large stones have been incorporated in the walls of the surrounding buildings.”
This may well be so – but it is equally possible that these are merely the remains of standing stones which once stood along this ridge and which were taken for use in the village.
One of the Tirai standing stones
Of the remaining standing stones in this idyllic setting – the Royal Commission fellas counted possibly four of ’em – all are roughly the same size, between 3 and 4 feet high. Johnstone & Wood (1996) also think the stones here may once have related to a prehistoric cairn in the village.
This is an utterly beautiful arena, even in the heights of winter. The village sits on the rear slopes behind the old cailleach, and there are plenty of cup-and-ring carvings, both known and unknown scattering the rocks and nearby hills. The curious Duncroisk Crosses carving is just visible from here, on the other side of the rocky gorge. Lost tales and lost sites abound here also. I did sit and wonder though… Considering that the villagers here left the old standing stones in place until very recent centuries at the heart of their hamlet, what uses did they make of it, or what tales did it speak? Or had the purge of the Church already taken its toll…?
References:
Gillies, William A., In Famed Breadalbane, Munro Press: Perth 1938.
Johnstone, A.S.K. & Wood, J.S., ‘An Archaeological Field Survey of Deserted Townships at Tirai, Glen Lochay, Killin,’ Association of Certificated Field Archaeologists (Glasgow University) Occasional Paper no 9 (1996).
* The place-name Tirai means ‘land of good luck or joy,’ which truly speaks well of its spirit and setting to me.
All sorts of ways to get here – all via road I’m afraid. Those southern-types aint into walking over fields and ambling about like we can do ‘ere up North. Best way to get here really, is get to Chipping Norton (a good little town with many good folk there), and ask! Take the road out of the town to Over Norton, taking the first road left as you enter the village. Go along this country lane for a mile until you reach a crossroads at the top of the hill. Turn right at the crossroads and watch out for the parking space at the roadside a few hundred yards along. Stop there and walk through the gate to go round to the other side of the trees. (if there’s a Rollright Trust member there loitering in the entrance asking you for some money to walk or sit by the stone circle – don’t give ’em it! They’ve used the cash for poisoning the wildlife in the past (killing the moles, field mice and other indigenous creatures there) and then lied about what they did (reckoning it was nowt to do with them!), so I wouldn’t trust them).
Archaeology & History
Southern arc of stones
There’s masses to be said on this site, which can’t possibly be added all in one go (I’ve literally got a full unpublished book on the many aspects of this lovely site) — so this entry will be updated occasionally with additional bits and bats of info and images as time floats by.
This remarkable and quite atmospheric megalithic complex has so much to say for itself that entire books have been written on the place (see the extensive references below), dealing with its archaeology, folklore and ritual use. I was very fortunate around the turn of the 21st century, to be able to live in an old hut that used to stand in the copse of trees just outside the circle, where I had numerous weird and wonderful experiences with people, wildlife, and what some might call the more eosteric life of the place…
1920s Ground-planMr Taunt’s 1907 plan
The King’s Men is a near-perfect circle of oolitic limestone uprights. Thought for centuries to be the memorial site of some victory by the Danish King Rollo, they have been described by many historians, travellers and antiquarians from the 14th century upwards. Several early writers described a sort of “avenue” running from the circle, not unlike the one perceived at Stonehenge and elsewhere. Evidence for this cannot be fully disregarded, as there are some recumbent monoliths along the road beside the stone complex, known as the Jurassic Way. This was a prehistoric trade route and it is more likely than not that some other uprights would have been nearby.
The Rollright Stones were used as the prime base for what was known as the Dragon Project: an exploratory examination of potential electromagnetic anomalies that were recorded at the standing stones here by scientists, geomancers and archaeologists who were involved daily monitoring work over many years. Much of this was published in Paul Devereux’s book, Places of Power – required reading for everyone who pretends an interest in megalithic sciences.
Northern section of the ring
The Rollright complex today consists primarily of three sites: the Whispering Knight’s portal dolmen, the King’s Men stone circle, and the King Stone. Of these, it is the stone circle which draws most attention. Several alignments are connected with the complex. The original ritual use of the place would have, primarily, involved rites of passage and death rituals; though it seems obvious that menstrual rites were also an important social event here. After dark, this stone circle has distinctly ‘female’ spirit, sometimes manifesting in a quite wrathful form (please don’t confuse any of the modern witchcraft mythos with such things – they are fundamentally different in both social and ritual aspects). Women obviously played a large part in the ritual use and geomantic layout of the original complex. It also seems likely that the stone circle was used as a moot spot, which may have been in use until medieval times. The recent discovery of the carving of a family crest, at least 500 years old, implies this.
Until Tom Wilson and I lived in the hut at the circle in the 1990s, previous reports of ‘carvings’ at the stone circle were few and debatable. But two of the stones in the Rollright circle have quite distinct carvings on them. The most pronounced is etched on the tallest stone (stone 1 – Barnatt Survey) and comprises of a typical heraldic shield – although we cannot, as yet, ascertain the motif in the middle of the shield. This was first seen by a visiting tourist who wanted to remain anonymous, but the finding was written up in an article I wrote shortly afterwards. (Bennett 1999) The image below – reproduced courtesy of Alistair Carty’s Archaeoptics Limited laser scanning company – clearly shows the carving, which confirmed the initial discovery. The report of his findings can be read here.
Not unsurprisingly, since the discovery of the shield various screwy interpretations have been put forward to account for the design. My favourite has to be the one suggested by a pagan friend of the Rollright Trust, who, occult-like and all secret (y’ get the drift) reckoned it was all to do with King Arthur! Needless to say, my response of, “Y’ talking bollox mate!” was received somewhat nervously by pagan Karin Attwood and the twee little entourage who were discussing the shield, in the usual ‘secrecy – secrecy’ hush-hush tone of false witches and similar idiots!
A few months later I found another set of carvings on stone 62 (Barnatt survey), comprising a set of Ogham letters. These Ogham are very faint and are best observed before midday, when lighting conditions highlight them much clearer. If anyone can decipher them, it would be greatly appreciated. (though please don’t gimme some shit about King Arthur)
Folklore
Folklore ascribes that the number of stones in the complex cannot be counted (a motif found at other megalithic sites) and, intriguingly, of the surveys done here, no two are the same! One early illustration of the circle shows 30 stones, nother describes 46, and one survey describes just 22 stones! As the 20th century progressed the numbers increased dramatically, with surveys differing at 58, 60, 71, 72, 73, 77 and 105. The present-day ‘guesstimate’ is about 77. Weird!
Folklore tells that if you can count the stones three times in a row and get the same number, you may have any wish you choose. But recently this has become reversed and it is said to be a curse if you count three times the same. Intriguingly, modern visitors who allege no superstitious beliefs, will not count the stones a third time if the same number crops up twice.
The best-known folk tale of this place is of the King, his men and the knights, who “were once men who were changed into vast rocks and fossilised,” as Camden first put it in 1586. The King’s men sometimes go to drink at a well near Little Rollright, as does the king, but he only goes at certain times. At midnight however, on certain days, the King’s Men have sometimes been known to come to life, join hands and dance in a circle. This sounds more like a folk remnant of ritual use here.
Faerie folk are said to live beneath the circle, in great caverns, some of which are linked up to the single monolith across the road. Ravenhill [1926] described how local folk had sometimes seen the little people dancing around the circle by moonlight, but nobody has seen them of late.
References:
Anonymous, The Rollright Stones: Theories and Legends, privately printed, n.d.
Anonymous, ‘Oxfordshire Mysteries,’ in The Ley Hunter 86, 1979.
Aubrey, John, Monumenta Britannica, Milbourne Port 1980.
Barnatt, John, Stone Circles of Britain (2 volumes), BAR: Oxford 1989.
Bennett, Paul, ‘Remarkable Carving found at the King’s Men Stone Circle, Rollright, Oxfordshire,’ in Right Times 5, 1999.
Bennett, Paul & Wilson, Tom, The Old Stones of Rollright and District, Cockley Press: London 1999.
Bloxham, Christine, Folklore of Oxfordshire, Tempus 2005.
Bord, Janet & Colin, The Secret Country, Paul Elek: London 1976.
Bord, Janet & Colin, A Guide to Ancient Sites in Britain, Paladin 1979.
Brooker, Charles, ‘Magnetism and the Standing Stones,’ in New Scientist, January 1983.
Burl, Aubrey, A Guide to the Stone Circles of Britain, Ireland and Brittany, New Haven & London 1995.
Burl, Aubrey, Great Stone Circles, Yale University Press: New York & London 1999.
Burl, Aubrey, The Stone Circles of Britain, Ireland and Brittany, Yale University Press 2000.
Clayton, Peter, Archaeological Sites of Britain, Weidenfeld & Nicolson: London 1976.
Cooper, Roy, ‘Some Oxfordshire Leys,’ in The Ley Hunter 86, 1979.
Cowper, B.H., ‘Oxfordshire Legend in Stone,’ Notes & Queries (1st series), 7, January 15, 1853.
Crawford, O.G.S., Long Barrows of the Cotswolds, John Bellows: Oxford 1932.
D., A.J., ‘Rollwright or Rollright,’ in Notes & Queries, 2nd series, 7, 1859.
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.
Devereux, Paul, Steele, John & Kubrin, David, Earthmind, Harper & Row: New York 1989.
Devereux, Paul & Thomson, Ian, The Ley Hunter’s Companion, Thames & Hudson: London 1979.
Dyer, James, Discovering Regional Archaeology: The Cotswolds and the Upper Thames, Shire: Tring 1970.
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.
Graves, Tom, Dowsing, Techniques and Application, Turnstone: London 1976.
Graves, Tom, Needles of Stone, Granada: London 1980.
Graves, Tom (ed.), Dowsing and Archaeology, Turnstone: Wellingborough 1980.
Gray, William, The Rollright Ritual, Helios: Cheltenham 1975.
Grinsell, Leslie V., The Ancient Burial Mounds of England, Methuen: London 1936.
Grinsell, Leslie V., The Rollright Stones and their Folklore, Toucan Press: Guernsey 1977.
Hamper, W., ‘Observations on certain Ancient Pillars of Memorial, called Hoar Stones,’ in Archaeologia, 25, 1833.
Hawkes, Jacquetta, A Guide to the Prehistoric and Roman Monuments in England and Wales, BCA: London 1973.
Higgins, Geoffrey, The Celtic Druids, Rowland Hunter: London 1829.
Krupp, E.C., In Search of Ancient Astronomies, Chatto & Windus: London 1979.
Lambrick, George, The Rollright Stones: The Archaeology and Folklore of the Stones and their Surroundings, Oxford Archaeology Review 1983. (Reprinted and updated in 1988.)
Not too difficult to find really. Get to the northern part of the road which encircles Arthur’s Seat and when you get to St. Margaret’s Loch (near St. Margaret’s Well), look up the slopes on your right where you see the remains of St. Anthony’s Chapel. You need to head up the footpath here until you reach a large-ish ovoid boulder, with a small circular trough into which the waters run (the drawing of the place here, with the rock in the lower-left, just in front of the fella walking towards it, is just right!). You’re here!
Archaeology & History
St Anthony’s Well, Arthurs Seat
Tradition tells that the remains of St. Anthony’s Chapel was built on the northern ridge by Arthur’s Seat, “mainly for guardianship of the holy well named after the saint” — which sounds rather like the christianization story of a heathen site. Francis Grose (1797) told that “this situation was undoubtedly chosen with an intention of attracting the notice of seamen coming up that Frith; who, in cases of danger, might be induced to make vows to its tutelar saint.” If this was the case, it sounds even more like a site that had prior heathen associations. Grose also told us that just a short distance from the chapel, were the remains of an old hermitage:
“It was partly of masonry worked upon the natural rock. At the east end there are still two niches remaining; in one of which formerly stood a skull, a book, an hour-glass, and a lamp, which, with a mat for a bed, made the general furniture of the hermitage.”
I like the sound of the place! Just up my street! Little other archaeological info has emerged from this tiny spot — but the healing waters of the well would obviously have been of importance to our indigenous inhabitants (anyone who wants to think otherwise is simply a bit dim!) as there is a wealth of archaeological sites and relics all round Arthur’s Seat.
Folklore
A number of writers have described this old well, which has sun-lore, healing properties, and Beltane rites surrounding its past. Local people of all social classes frequented this ancient spring, particularly on that most favoured of heathen days, Beltane. The site was of considerable mythic importance with a certain order about it. As Hone (1839) said:
“…the poorer classes in Edinburgh poured forth at daybreak from street and lane to assemble on Arthur’s Seat to see the sun rise on May-morning. Bagpipes and other musical intruments enlivened the scene, nor were refreshments forgotten. About six o’ clock a crowd of citizens of the wealthier class made their appearance, while the majority of the first-comers returned to the town. At nine o’ clock the hill was practically deserted.”
Another early account describing St. Anthony’s Well is from an article in the great PSAS journal of 1883. Here, J.R. Walker wrote:
St Anthonys Well
To an incident which showed that the faith and belief in the healing virtues of the wells is still strong, the writer was but a few months ago an eye-witness. While walking in the Queen’s Park about sunset, I casually passed St. Anthony’s Well, and had my attention attracted by the number of people about it, all simply quenching their thirst, some possibly with a dim idea that they would reap some benefit from the draught. Standing a little apart, however, and evidently patiently waiting a favourable moment to present itself for their purpose, was a group of four. Feeling somewhat curious as to their intention, I quietly kept myself in the back ground, and by and by was rewarded. The crowd departed, and the group came forward, consisting of two old women, a younger woman of about thirty, and a pale, sickly-looking girl — a child of three or four years old. Producing cups from their pockets, the old women dipped them in the pool, filled them, and drank the contents. A full cup was then presented to the younger woman, and another to the child. Then one of the old women produced a long linen bandage, dipped it in the water, wrung it, dipped it in again, and then wound it round the child’s head, covering the eyes, the youngest woman, evidently the mother of the child, carefully observing the operation, and weeping gently all the time. The other old woman not engaged in this work was carefully filling a clear flat glass bottle with the water, evidently for future use. Then, after the principal operators had looked at each other with an earnest and half solemn sort of look, the party wended its way carefully down the hill
Earlier still we find more lore of the place in Wilson’s Edinburgh [1848] where he told:
St Anthony’s Chapel 1785
“The ancient Hermitage and Chapel of St. Anthony, underneath the hangings of Arthur’s Seat, are velieved to have formed a dependency of the preceptory at Leith, and to have been placed there, to catch the seaman’s eyes as he entered the Firth, or departed on some long and perilous voyage; when his voews and offerings would be most freely made to the patron saint, and the hermit who ministered at his altar. No record, however, now remains to add to the tradition of its dedication to St. Anthony; but the silver stream, celebrated in the plaintive old song, ‘O waly, waly, up yon bank,’ still wells clearly forth at the foot of the rock, filling the little basin of St. Anthony’s Well, and rippling pleasantly through the long grass into the lower valley.”
Votive offerings made here eventually turned the waters into a simply wishing well for incomers, even in Victorian times (oh how the locals must have hated such trangression…). The great Scottish holy wells writer J.M. MacKinlay (1893) told in his day the tale of,
“a little girl from Aberdeenshire, when on a visit to Edinburgh, made trial of the sacred spring. She was cautioned not to tell anyone what her wish was, else the charm would have no effect. On her return home however, her eagerness to know whether the wish had…been fulfilled, quite overcame her ability to keep the secret. Her first words were, ‘Has the pony come?’ St. Anthony must have been in good humour with the child, for he provided the pony, thus evidently condoning the breach of silence in deference to her youth.”
In the middle of the 20th century, the great folklorist F.M. MacNeill (1959) wrote:
“Even in Edinburgh, little bands of the faithful may be seen making their way through the King’s Park to Arthur’s Seat, and, as in the eighteenth century:
On May-Day, in a fairy ring,
We’ve seen them round St. Anton’s spring,
Frae grass the caller dew-drops wring,
To weet their een,
And water clear as crystal spring,
To synd them clean.”
And when Ruth and Frank Morris (1982) got round to their excellent survey, they found that this old well was still being used “by youths and maidens, who come to wash their faces with the dew on May Day mornings, a wish at St. Anthony’s being a part of the ritual.” But this final remark may have the simple prosaic coincidence of them observing people like I, when younger, who frolicked with girlfriends around May morning, in the grasses near the old well — though at the time I knew nothing about the old sacred waters on the slopes just above us!
Sadly gone, there have been several literary reports of this once fine megalithic ring. It was to be seen “on the right hand side of the main roadway from Edinburgh to Carlops, as it approaches the farm of Marchwell.” When the site was described by the Scottish Royal Commission in 1929, some of the stones were apparently still standing. They described it as occupying a site “at an elevation of between 800 and 900 feet above sea-level,” but told that the main reason for its destruction appeared “that it was broken up by the making of the highway, which cuts the knoll on its east side.” They continued:
“Two of the stones, showing a height of about 15 inches above ground, remain in their original positions, while five others lying in close proximity are probably units that have been moved. These five blocks, which are not earth-fast, are of similar character to the two remaining in situ, and all seven, judging from their basaltic character, appear to have been brought from a distance.”
A brief account of the circle in the 1845 New Statistical Account description of the Glencorse parish told that the site was 40 feet in diameter. In 1941, two fragments of a food vessel were found in close proximity to where the circle had been; and in a visit here in 1970 by members of Ordnance Survey, two possible monoliths were reported in the walling which they thought might have originally come from the stone circle. Unfortunately I’ve not been able to locate any early drawings or photos of the site – yet!
References:
Royal Commission on the Ancient & Historical Monuments & Constructions of Scotland, Midlothian and West Lothian, HMSO: Edinburgh 1929.
Takes a bit of finding this – but if you like your rock art, it’s worth the search! You can follow directions for the getting to the Man Stone then, when you reach it, look to the near horizon to the east. Get to the bottom of the sloping hillside where a large rounded boulder sits and walk up the slope about 10 yards. Look around here cos you’re very close.
Woman Stone carvingCarving highlighted in chalk
Alternatively, from the Askwith Moor Road, follow the path to the triangulation pillar on Shooting House Hill. Keep going for another 100 yards and check a small path to your left (south). Follow this down until you get to the top of the slope. Go to the bottom of the slope and look around!
This carving is best checked out in winter and early spring: if you go here in summer & autumn there’s bracken covering the entire site & you’ll never find it!
Archaeology & History
Drawing by Inmaculada Ibanez-Sanchez
This stone was first discovered by Graeme Chappell and I during one of our many ambling explorations here in the early 1990s and was first mentioned in my Old Stones of Elmet (pp.149-152). Marija Gimbutas would have loved this seemingly matriarchal-looking cup-and-ring carving, suggestive of many Mother Goddess images she found across Europe – hence its title!
Woman Stone design (after Boughey & Vickerman)
I don’t think that the old-school archaeological types would lower themselves to say such a thing, but as I aint one of them I’m quite confident in saying that this carving does seem to be a pictorial representation of a female figure: one of the earliest of its kind in the British Isles? (check its nearby male compatriot, the Man Stone – a distinctly human figure and one of the earliest of its kind in the British Isles) Very close by we are left with old place-name remnants pointing directly at the presence of pre-christian goddess remains in the mythic landscape – an issue I’ll expand on in the near future.
In the survey by more recent rock art students Boughey & Vickerman (2003), their illustration of the carving makes it look even more like an early female figure! (though I hear they don’t like people giving the carvings names – unless, of course, one of them lot names it…)
References:
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Milverton 2001.
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS: Wakefield 2003.
Gimbutas, Marija, The Language of the Goddess, Harper-Collins: San Francisco 1989.
Gimbutas, Marija, The Civilization of the Goddess: The World of Old Europe, Harper-Collins: San Franciscoo 1991.
Settlement (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SJ 959 928
Archaeology & History
Known by this name – Werneth – since at least the 12th century, place-name masters Ekwall, Smith and others have tended to think the place derives from a hypothetical British word, *verno-, meaning alder trees – though I aint so sure misself.
It’s been difficult to ascertain the precise nature of this prehistoric arena. Many mesolithic flint finds and old stone axes have been found around the area, but it seems primarily to have developed into a neolithic and Bronze Age settlement and burial site. A number of cairns were once here, and both rounded and linear earthwork features occur in the area; but there’s been considerable disturbance in and around the site and without in-depth archaeo-surveillance, much remains hidden.
Although apparently long gone, we could find this giant prehistoric tomb on the eastern side of the great Ingleborough and was one of many with this name once scattering the mid-Pennines. It was found less than a mile south of the hamlet of Selside, a few miles above Horton-in-Ribblesdale, on the west side of the B6479 and its existence is thankfully preserved in the place-name, ‘Borrens’, where the giant tomb was once found, 200 yards south of Gill Garth Farm. If you look on the OS-map, you’ll notice an ancient settlement site close by.
Archaeology & History
In 1892, the great Yorkshire historian Harry Speight told us:
“We have no proper account of it, but it was doubtless ransacked and removed in the expectation of finding treasure. It is mentioned…in the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1761, as follows:
‘In the valley above Horton, near the base of this mountain (Ingleborough), I observed a large heap or pile of greet-stones all thrown promiscuously together, without any appearance of building or workmanship, which yet cannot be reasonably thought to be the work of Nature. Few stones are found near it, though ’tis computed to contain 400 of that country cart-loads of stones, or upwards. There is likewise another at the base north-east, in resemblance much the same, but scarce so large.'”
Speight speculated that it may have been raised to commemorate “some dire conflict between the Romans and the native hill tribes, as it lay on the old Roman thoroughfare across Ribblehead to the camp under Smearside.” We may never know this for sure, but there are plenty of Iron- and Bronze Age remains scattering this region – and just a few hundred yards south of this lost cairn are the old remnants of an ancient settlement…whose pages and images (it is hoped) will appear on TNA in the near future…
References:
Smith, A.H., English Place-Name Elements, volume 1, Cambridge University Press 1956.
Smith, A.H., Place-Names of the West Riding, volume 6, Cambridge University Press 1961.
Speight, Harry, The Craven and Northwest Yorkshire Highlands, Elliott Stock: London 1892.
