Latest Folklore

From the information board

“Around 3000 years ago cairns, “mound of stones” were erected to mark the burial place of important individuals. This bronze age cairn is one of a number, which occupy prominent positions on the hilltops of the Nagle Mountains, stretching westwards from Fermoy to Mallow.

The cairn has been much abused over time. During World War I the British Army built an observation bunker inside it and the Irish Army did likewise during World War II. 100 years ago the cairn was twice as high as it is now and in 1832 “several hundred tons of stone” were taken from the cairn to build a nearby boundary wall. In the process the workmen disturbed a double-compartmented cist (stone grave). Inside were two bronze-age earthenware vessels, containing the cremated remains of at least one individual. One of the vessels was broken by workmen to see if there was treasure insidem the whereabouts of the other remains unknown.

According to legend, Cormac Mac Airt, High King of Ireland in the 3rd Century AD arrived in Munster to demand tribute. When Cormac’s army was fiercely resisted by the Munstermen, his Scottish druids cast spells over the land so that the wells, dried up and both man and beast suffered.

The Munster King, Fiachaidh Muilleathan, appealed for help to the infamous druid, Mogh Ruith, who cast spells so strong that Cormac’s army retreated in disarray and confusion. When the druid came to claim his reward “two thirty hundreds of the fairest land in Munster” – he choose the Blackwater Valley, the ancient land of the Caoilli. The druid Mogh Ruith is said to be buried under the cairn on Corrin Hill.

According to legend a fable cow, the Druimionn, used to graze the slopes of Corrin producing milk to feed Giants. A mysterious quadruped, called the Lon, used to waylay the magic cow in the marshes at the foot of the hill and take her milk. The giants tried in vain to capture and kill the Lon but eventually they summoned the hero, Finn MacCool and his famous hound Bran. Bran tracked the Lon to its lair and finally killed it after a savage fight.

Another legend relates that long ago the king of Fermoy had a son whose death by drowning was foretold. He decided to build a castle on top of the hill to house the boy and keep him safe from rivers and lakes. One day, while the castle was being built, the young prince walked by a barrel of water that was left there by the builders. He had never before seen his reflection and peered into the barrel for a closer look. When the King turned around he found his young son drowned, face down, in the barrel. He cursed the place and abandoned work on the castle.”

A legend says that the Druids, by running and dancing around this megalith in their sacred ceremonies, caused the stone to come to life. It is said that every night before midnight the stone turns on its base and begins to whoop or cry out. It is also said to do the same thing, but with more energy, on Christmas Eve.

Since being placed together, the other stone, the Sautin Polissoir, is also said to do the same.

Mr. Larking has since made some excavations at one of the cromlechs of the parish of Addington, the only result of which was the discovery of some fragments of rude pottery, but they were attended with a circumstance which shows how long the ancient superstitions connected with such monuments have lasted. He had fixed on the site for excavating one afternoon, when the keeper happened accidentally to be present.

Early in the forenoon of the next day, Mr. Larking, with some workmen, proceeded to the spot, and he was rather surprised to find the keeper and an assistant waiting for him with picks and spades, and to see them work with extraordinary vigour and earnestness.

As the day passed on, and nothing but a few bits of pottery turned up, disappointment was visible in the features of the keeper, which became still more apparent when they all quitted their work and prepared for their departure. Before they separated, however, he communicated to my excellent friend the cause which made him work so diligently – in the preceding night he had dreamt that the cromlech contained a large crock of gold, and he was in hopes to be the fortunate discoverer of it!

From the Gentleman’s magazine and historical review, volume 192 (1852).
books.google.co.uk/books?id=Sq3PAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA567

Gargantua, the giant, is said to have used this chamber as a bed. Maybe he liked sharing his bed with a few fairies!

See – The Life of Gargantua and of Pantagruel (in French, La vie de Gargantua et de Pantagruel) a connected series of five novels written in the 16th century.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gargantua_and_Pantagruel

Just to add to greywether’s folklore – not that I’m encouraging vandalism but it won’t work just any hour of the day.

Into it [the Toothie Stane, the large outer portal stone] have been driven at least two dozen nails or screws. Local legend explains these by saying that it used to be the custom for anyone suffering from toothache to seek a cure by driving a nail into the stone at midnight!

I am indebted to Mr S. R. Skilling [for an account] of a rather similar superstition from SW. England, to the effect that an aching tooth could be cured by hammering a nail into the trunk of an oak tree.

The excavation of the chambered cairn at Brackley, Kintyre, Argyle. JG Scott, in PSAS 89 (1955/6).

It was a weird thing entering that cairn that had been so long closed, and it was a cheerful thing to come out and see the people that had gathered, even from this lone district, as soon as they heard that there was really a building and chambers found in the cairn.

It was curious, also, to listen to the superstitions that came out. One woman who lived here, and might therefore be considered an authority, said that she used to see lights upon it in the dark nights. That you may explain as you please; distances are not easily judged of in the dark. One man, who also lived near, and who certainly was intelligent, said he would not enter for the whole estate of Lochnell.

We have often inquired the name of the cairn. The cairn really has had no definite name. Some people have called it Carn Ban or White Cairn, but that is evidently confusing it with the other cairn which we saw over the moss, and which is really whiter. Some people have called it Ossian’s Cairn, but that is not an old name, and even if it had been, we know that it is a common thing to attach this name to anything old. We call it Achnacree Cairn, from the name of the farm on which it stands.

It was a pleasant day for us and all around to find an interest so human and natural arising out of things deep in the ground in this secluded place, adn it makes one wonder whether there be not, in every part of the world, something that might interest us all if we only knew how to look at it.

There’s plenty more detail on the cairn in this book. There’s the interesting detail that on a ledge inside the cairn on the east side “were placed six white pebbles of quartz – four in one part and two a little separate. On the west side were two white pebbles; others of the same kind, but discoloured, were found in the soil.” And more pebbles were found in some urns in the cairn. “The quartz pebbles have been often noticed. Mr. Mapleton has found them often in urns and cists in this county, and in one case near Lochnell and far from quartz rock [..] He found three angular pieces of quartz firmly imbedded in a deep cup made in the rock, and surrounded by rings or circle markings, in the Kilmartin district lately. These markings were covered over with about 15 inches of soil, in which no quartz occured. Dr. Wilson mentions twenty-five urns having been found on the Cathkin hills, each with its face downwards, and a quartz stone under it.”

From ‘Loch Etive and the Sons of Uisnach’ by Robert Angus Smith (1879).
openlibrary.org/books/OL23638293M/Loch_Etive_and_the_sons_of_Uisnach

Gargantua, the giant, is said to have used this stone to sharpen his scythe, which he then took to finish off the soldiers of Caesar

See – The Life of Gargantua and of Pantagruel (in French, La vie de Gargantua et de Pantagruel) a connected series of five novels written in the 16th century.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gargantua_and_Pantagruel

Near Soumont-Saint-Quentin, in the departement Calvados, 9 km north of the city Falaise, lived the count of Quesnay.

He had a beautiful castle, fruitful land, and everybody respected him. he had a fair daughter, the charming Lucia. The elegancy of Lucia (and her wealth) attracted a lot of knights, that hoped to get invitations to the castle of Quesnay.

Lucia loved heroic epic. One day a troubadour came to the castle. He was young and handsome, tall and strong, and around 25 years old. After the servants had cleared the table he offered to sing a lovesong. Lucia asked for a heroic epic instead and the bard arose, tuned his lute and sang a song about a knight.

“Who has travelled through the brown Provence and the golden Bourgogne, the bellicose Flanders and rough Brittany, without even once asking for mercy? The valiant black knight, the knight of the lions.

Who has destroyed the most lances and unsaddled the most enemies in twenty jousts and many an encounter? The valiant black knight, the knight of the lions.

Who has never betrayed his beliefs, never won by deception, never fled, never gave up, never kneeled in front of his peers? The valiant black knight, the knight of the lions.

And nevertheless he strays around, melancholic and musing by day; sleeping in the shadow of huge solitary trees at night, having painful dreams, the valiant black knight, the knight of the lions.

He is woeful, woeful to the bottom of his heart and his state will persist until he finds a soul that matches his soul, the woeful, valiant black knight, the knight of the lions.”

The people applauded him and the count asked him to stay some days, but he answered, that he wanted to continue his journey on the next morning.

On the next morning a handmaid of Lucia asked him to come to Lucia’s rooms. He went there and kneeled in front of Lucia. She asked him to stand up and asked if he had sung about a real knight or invented the story. He answered, that the knight of lions exists and that she will meet him soon, because on his search for the most beautiful belle he would most likely drop by at the castle of Quesnay. Lucia blushed and gave him a gold piece.

Some time later the count of Quesnay held a tournament. The winner would get Lucia as wife, after one probationary year. Most of the celibate knights of Normandy prepared themselves for the tournament.

The tournament was a feast for the senses. The plain around the castle was full of tents and carts. Lots of visitors were standing at the palisades, two referees sat on their horses, armoured cap-a-pie, on both ends of the tournament field. On the galleries sat the noblemen. Lucia sat between her parents. Finally the heralds declared the rules of the tournament, trumpets resounded, fourty knights stormed the arena on horseback.

Finally only one knight sat in his saddle in the arena, that was full of blood and debris of arms. His weapons were black and his shield wore three golden lions. The audience shouted: “Honour be to the knight of the lions”. They brought the knight to Lucia, he kneeled in front of her and his knave lifted his helmet. It was the troubardour. Lucia gave him the blessed sash, as a promise of marriage. The count announced the victory of the knight of the lions. The knight said he would return after one year to marry the lovely Lucia.

Some months later it was deadly silent in the castle of Quesnay. Why? Satan had abducted Lucia. He made advances to her, promised her the throne in hell, the reign over the whole world, jewellery and diamonds. Lucia refused to accept anything. The devil gnashed his teeth in anger and menaced her with thousandfold tortures. She hoped to escape and was unimpressible.

And really, after a drinking bout the devil was so tired, that he fell asleep and Lucia snuck out of hell. She could already see the castle of Quesnay when a thunderstorm began. The ground opened and out of an abyss craggy mountains ascended. One of the mountains opened up and out of it stepped Satan. He saw Lucia and threw some rocks at her. When he heard a loud voice behind him: “Bloody Satan, leave that girl alone, I dare you.” The devil turned around and saw a knight with three golden lions on his shield, he asked: “are you ready to die?” Lucia recognized the knight and thanked God. The blessed sash was attached to the sleeve of the knight. The devil saw the blessed sash and took fright. He fled into hell.

Thereupon Lucia and the knight of the lions married and they lived happily ever after.

The castle of Quesnay has vanished ages ago, but the mountain out of which the devil appeared is still existing. On the ground of a narrow gorge runs a torrent, the Laizon. There is a bridge and a washhouse and the ruin of a mill. Rocks lie around as if they were fallen from the sky. That’s the gorge of the devil.

Source:
Les Légendes Normandes, by Louis Bascan, a collection of Norman legends of older sources, reprint of 1929, published by “les Editions du Bastion”, 1999, ISBN=2745500503, page 84-95, (French)

Many years ago the late Lord Bagot removed the Emlyn Stone from Bedd Emlyn to his residence at Pool Park near Ruthin, the distance being hardly two miles, and the stone not of very large size. The transport, however, took two days, and the waggon did break down for some reason or other; so that the whole transaction was looked on as very mysterious, and confirmatory of the local superstition [that you shouldn’t go moving stones].

Coflein has Bedd Emlyn at the same place as the Bryn Beddau cairns, although it is more of a pit now than a cairn. The stone from the cairn is supposed to be inscribed with ogham, and Coflein says it has been taken to the national museum in Cardiff. I can’t find a picture. But even if it really is later, it must get special approval for being associated with older cairns?

From v III of Archaeologia Cambrensis (1872) ‘Notes On Some South Wales Cromlechs’ by E L Barnwell.

In a field called “Parc y Bigwrn,” and in Pensarn farm, in the same parish [as Gwal y Filiast], are the remains of a cromlech destroyed about sixty years ago. Two of the supporting stones are still erect, and near them lie the remains of the rest of the chamber. One of them, nearest the hedge, is 8 1/2 ft. by 4 1/2 ft., the average thickness being 3 ft. Another was broken, about sixty years ago, into two parts, and one of them removed on a sledge drawn by six horses. All that now remain are six in number, including the part of the broken stone not removed. They vary in dimensions from 7 or 8 ft. to 4 ft. in length. Their average breadth is about 3 1/2 ft.

Our informant (John Jones), a man of more than eighty years of age, has always lived close to the spot. His memory and his character for veracity are equally good, and he remembers the capstone having been shifted from the west bearer; but had been told by his seniors that it had previously been horizontal, and was known as the table. It was subsequently thrown on the ground, where it now remains.

It may be as well to give the old man’s exact words: “Yr oedd chwech ceffyl yn tynu y gareg, ac yr oedd y car llusg yn rhwygo y ffordd. Yr oedd yno tua 10 o ddynion wrth y gorchwyl, ac yr oeddent yn llawn braw pan yn cyffwrdd a’r gareg.” The English of which is: “There were six horses drawing the stone, and the road was rent asunder. About ten men were engaged, and they were full of awe when touching the stone.”

This superstitious dread of disturbing stones of this kind was once almost universal in the Principality as well as in Brittany, and is still felt by many of the country people.

From v III of Archaeologia Cambrensis (1872) ‘Notes On Some South Wales Cromlechs’ by E L Barnwell.

Women wanting to be a mother are told to rub their finger in a sort of cup that can be seen towards the bottom of the stones natural folds.

They are then told to wipe this “milk” on their navel. This act was to be repeated as often as required, no doubt until the woman fell pregnant.

According to legend, six girls and a fiddler went to dance on the mound on a Sunday, instead of going to church.

As their dance became wilder their heads become stiff, their arms began sticking to their bodies, and then their legs began to sink into the ground. The fiddler in the middle suffered the same fate.

Local residents rushed to the site but the group had turned to stone.

A traditional folklore was that girls wishing to marry should sit on the stone during the nights of full moon.

They were to do this after first noting their petticoats.

Legend tells that if you fall asleep by the stone on a beautiful moonlit night with a gold coin tight in the palm of the right hand, you wake up rich the next day.

A remarkable tumulus known as the Twmpath, near Colwinston, was thoroughly explored under the direction of Mr. F. G. Price, F.S.A., in 1887. The central portion had been excavated several years previously by the then owner of the property, when nine cinerary urns and their contents were brought to light; but as these were not the sort of treasure he looked for, the work was abandoned.

[.. Price] mentions the tradition of a local battle, the slain of which were said to be buried here.

From a ‘Handbook to Cardiff and the neighbourhood’ from 1920, here.

I happened upon this whilst looking for Menteith-related stories. So it’s not exclusively about this area, but does include it. And I think it’s really nice. It mentions white bulls – those famous ancient beasts of the Tain (or Cattle Raid of Cooley) epic, and maybe the sort whose descendents you can visit at Chillingham. Thoughts of the wild wood I suppose. The original was written in Latin by Hector Boece in his ‘Scotorum Historiae’. But there’s a translation of the 1575 version at this website
philological.bham.ac.uk/boece/

Marching with Argyll and Lennox in the interior lie the districts of Sterling and Menteith, and not far distant a town of this same name of Sterling, together with a very stout castle formerly named Mons Dolorosus. Once upon a time the Caledonian forest began here, and the old names Callendar and Caldar still remain. It ran in a long expanse through Menteith and Stratherne as far as Athol and Lochaber.

This forest is wont to produce very white bulls that have lion-like manes but otherwise resemble domesticated ones, but they are so wild and untamed that they avoid contact with men, and if they sense that some plant or tree has been touched by human hand, they shun it for several days thereafter. If they are captured by some trick (a very difficult thing to do), they soon die of sorrow. And when they see they are being attacked, they charge whomever they encounter and lay him low, having no fear of dogs, javelins, nor any kind of steel.

They say that Robert Bruce, having gained the throne and pacified his kingdom, hunted here for his recreation and came close to destruction. For when he was wandering about wherever his fancy took him, carefree and unescorted, he was confronted by a bull of this kind that had been wounded by a hunting-dart. Driven to a frenzy, it confronted Robert and threatened him with imminent death, and the king had no way of avoiding the danger. While all his company saw this and were standing stock-still in amazement, one present-minded man, willing to sacrifice his life for the king’s sake, took the bull by the horns with might and main, and not only stopped it in its tracks, but very courageously wrestled it to the ground without suffering any harm himself.

Then the bull was slain by the spears of those who came a-running, and this averted the king’s impending death. As a reward for saving his life, the king handsomely rewarded the fellow by conferring on him the name of Turnbull. Families of this name, possessed of no small degree of nobility, still exist, and that king is said to have been the first to give them this name and distinction.

The meat of this animal is delightful to eat and our nobility is particularly fond of it, although it does have gristle. But the gaming that used to be found in all that forest are now to be seen only in that part which is called Cumbernauld, having been hunted to extinction elsewhere to appease Man’s gluttony.

Almost straight north from the Wallace Stones, on the lower northern slope of the Ochils stands the Whittieston Stone. It is in a field on the south side of the road from Dunblane to Greenloaning and just in front of the farm-house of Upper Whittieston. A tall slab of Highland grit (fine micaceous) [..] on the east side it is marked with one large and seven smaller cups. [..]

Its only legend is of quite recent date. In the district the stone is known as the Macgregor Stone, and the tradition accounting for the name is to the effect that here a countryman was sacrificed by the followers of Rob Roy, when forming for the engagement on Sheriffmuir, in order to satisfy the ancient highland superstition that first-blood was an infallible omen of success. [..] It occurs to me however, to suggest that the stone may have taken its present name simply enough from the Macgregors of Balhaldies on whose lands it stood.

From the transactions of the Stirling Natural History and Archaeological Society 1892-3, in an article by A F Hutchison, about ‘The Standing Stones of the District’.

The Gathering Stone on the Field of Sheriffmoor.

This Battle Stone (as it is locally called) is a block of fine Highland grit, travelled possibly from Balquhidder. In 1840 it was enclosed by an iron grating, which bears the following inscription:--

“The Gathering Stone of the Highland army on the day of the memorable battle of Sheriffmuir, fought in November, 1715. This grating has been erected to preserve the stone by John Stirling, Esq. of Kippendavie, Principal Heritor in the parish of Dunblane.”

I have been told that this battle stone used formerly to be known as the Beltane Stane. If that is the case, it has probably a much older interest than the battle of Sheriffmoor. It certainly has the appearance, so far as it can now be seen, of an overthrown standing stone.

I can’t help thinking John Stirling Esq. was a bit misguided. Couldn’t he have stood it upright instead? But that Stone has seen long ages and one day that cage is going to rust to nothing. It looks cruel. It looks like one of those cages they put over graves to stop bodysnatchers.

From the transactions of the Stirling Natural History and Archaeological Society 1892-3, in an article by A F Hutchison, about ‘The Standing Stones of the District’.

In the grounds of Randolphfield, in front of the house, are two stones standing in a line from S.W. to N.E. [..] The south-west stone stands 4 ft. above ground. The portion underground measures 2 ft. 5 in. [..] Both stones are pillars of dolerite, of the same material as the pillar stones of the Castle rock, from which place they have apparently been brought. The larger stone shows some marks on it, which have been supposed to be artificial. They are, however, merely the natural joints characteristic of these blocks, such as may be seen on their fellows at the Back Walk.

The local tradition as to the origin and meaning of these stones is well-known. It is thus stated by Nimmo in his History of Stirlingshire, p84 (first edition, 1777):--
“Two stones stand to this day in the field near Stirling, where Randolph, Earl of Murray, and Lord Clifford, the English general, had a sharp rencounter, the evening before the great battle of Bannockburn.”.

From the transactions of the Stirling Natural History and Archaeological Society 1892-3, in an article by A F Hutchison, about ‘The Standing Stones of the District’.

This is a hefty (but sadly fallen) stone – the RCAHMS record says it is 4m long x 1.4m x 0.5m. It has understandably been known as the ‘Great Stane of Pendreigh’. It was (supposedly) placed here as a monument to Wallace’s victories – see the folklore of the Seven Stanes at Wester Biggs.

I’m not sure if the following story also refers to it.
archive.org/stream/dunblanetraditio00montuoft#page/19
“If” the ‘Loup o’ Pendreigh’ is the bridge over the Wharry burn, the stone is indeed maybe a mile away. But it’s hardly in a ‘haugh’ as that suggests a meadow next to the stream, and the stone is up some way from it? It is about the Shepherd of Braco who (trained in the use of the broad-sword since infancy no less) manages to despatch an unlikely number of dragoons, who are then buried at the stone.

.. at a place called Whiteheadston, two or three miles north of Dunblane, is another large Upright-Stone, similar to the “Stan’in’ Stane[s]” [at Cauldhame farm] and that on the Black-hill of Pendreigh.

It was at this stone – “the Muckle Stane o’ Whitestoun,” – that “the first Whig blood was drawn,” in 1715, on the morning of that day when a thousand claymores were dyed red with human blood on the heights of Sheriff-muir. Our oralists relate that, according to the superstitious code of their belief, it was deemed by some individuals of the Clans, indispensible to ensure their success in battle, that the blood of an enemy should be shed previous to the commencement of the onset. No stray “red-coat” having fallen into their clutches, it was immediately resolved that they should secretly select a Whig victim from the little hamlet of Whiteheadston, and there, “in cauld bluid,” sacrifice him while the lines were forming to ascend the muir.

A person of the name of Dawson was seized for this purpose, but he, it is said, guessing what was intended, counterfeited so well, that his intending murderers were persuaded he could be no Whig, but a friend of the King – “King Hamish.” Another man, however, was less fortunate, being transfixed with broad-swords at “the Muckle Stane,” after which the foul perpetrators marched off to their lines, satisfied that the wrath of their fallen deities was appeased by the bloody dead.

Also see the story at Wester Biggs.

From ‘Dunblane traditions’ by John Monteath (1887).

The RCAHMS site says there are seven stones lying here, the longest being 1.5m. So it seems reasonable that this is the place for this tradition – maybe even the putting stone’s still here? But someone needs to re-erect the stones if they’re going to get all macho.

About two miles south-west of the village of Blackford, on the Sheriff-muir road, and near to the farm-house of Easter-Biggs, is an arch of stones, seven in number, called the “Seven Stanes,” varying from perhaps a ton to two tons each. One of these is of a round prismatical shape, and stands in an erect position. Beside these lies a large bullet of stone, called “Wallace’s Puttin’ Stane,” and he is accounted a strong man who can lift it in his arms to the top of the standing one, which is about four feet high, -- and a very strong man who is able to toss it over without coming in contact with the upright one.

At one time few were to be found of such muscular strength as to accomplish this -- not so much from the actual weight of the stone itself, as from the difficulty of retaining hold of it, it being very smooth and circular. This difficulty, however, was obviated about seventy years ago, by the barbarous hand of a mason, to enable himself to perform the feat, since which time a person of ordinary strength can easily lift it.

... The “Seven Stanes” [..] tradition informs us, are intended to commemorate a glorious victory obtained by an army of Scottish patriots under Wallace over an English army 10,000 strong, who were taken by surprise and cut to pieces. Wallace, who was not less remarkable for the celerity of his movements than the strength of his arm, determined not only to intercept it, but formed, at the same time, the most daring plan of cutting off their retreat, as if already assured of victory. For this purpose he divided his brave followers into three divisions; one of which he dispatched in the night to the “Seven Stanes” – another was stationed at the Blackhill of Pendreigh, to fall upon the rear – and Wallace himself, with his division, lay on the Muir of Whiteheadston.

So you get three stone legends for the price of one – for here, for the White Stone and for the ‘Great Stane of Pendreigh’.
From ‘Dunblane traditions’ by John Monteath (1887).

In the popular mind [standing stones] are usually attributed to the giant race, of whom a faint tradition lingers. It was the giant of Roenis Hill who, in his combat with the giant of Papa Stour, threw a stone at his opponent in the distant island, which fell short and is now known as the Standing Stone of Busta. Similar tales are told of other standing stones.

From p91 of ‘Shetland Folk-lore’ by John Spence (1899).

Ronas / Ronies Hill (the highest point on the island?) is crowned by a chambered cairn. Surely a good spot for a giant to live?

The Moyness Stone Circle has been dismantled, but it was unique in one respect. One of the boulders of which the circle was composed was said to have been a rocking stone or loggan, and according to traditionary belief was used as an ordeal stone for determining the innocence or guilt of a person accused of crime. If the stone rocked when the person was placed on it, guilt was established; if it remained unmoved, innocence was declared. Considerable sanctity, as may be supposed, attached to this tell-tale stone with its mysterious movements, but the school children of later times, with irreverent familiarity, were wont to play upon it.

From p3 of ‘History of Nairnshire’ by George Bain (1893).

‘A large rock called St Moluag can be seen to east of the path up Tap O Noth. St. Moluag was a famous Celtic missionary and a contemporary of St. Columba. Sent to Pictland in AD562 he founded several churchs in the area including one at the nearby village of Clatt. The great rock Clochmaloo (stone of St. Moluag) was probably used as a retreat whilst he worked in the area.‘

From the notice board at the car park.