fitzcoraldo
Close-up of a ?? sharpening stone incorporated into a nearby dry stone wall
Oddly enough there are five round barrows in close proximity on Three howes Rigg. The mounds are fairly unremarkable in themselves. They are orientated roughly North South in an elongated ‘S’ and are about 20-30m across.
What is nice about this site is the view of the Freebrough hill, the peak of which just pokes up above Moorsholm Moor on the NNE horizon. The mounds are not orienated to Freebrough but the nearby track that leads to Freebrough and beyond has mounds all along it’s course. This is rich country for the seeker of round barrows.
The tip of the mother-hill Freeborough, visible from the Three Howes, Three Howes Rigg
Saint Hildas well is situated in the church yard of Saint Hilda in the village of Hinderwell which is said to be a corruption of Hilda’s Well.
The village was recorded in the Domesday book as Hindrevvelle.
The well is supposedly where Hilda stopped to chill a while whilst travelling to become Abbess of Whitby.
It’s a pretty well and was restored in 1912. The water looks very clear.
It is “dressed” by the local children once a year.
” A very old custom, but which has now been pretty nigh stamped out by the county policeman, is that of ’ Riding the Stang’. It is not dead yet though; I witnessed the stang being ridden as recently as 1891 in Guisborough, and in many of the villages in Wensleydale it i9s to this day resorted to when considered needed.
The Stang is held in wholesome dread by a certain class of evil-doers. Wife-beaters and immoral characters chiefly had and have the benefit of the stang. Whatever their discovered sin might be, was fully set forth in the stang doggeral. One or two points have to be, or at least are, most carefully observed: (1) The real name of the culprit must not be mentioned (2) The stang must be ridden in three seperate parishes each night: and in many places to make the proceedings quite legal, it is considered a sin qua non that the stang master must knock at the door of the man or woman they were holding up to ridicule, and ask for a pocket -piece, i.e. fourpence.
The whole proceeding was carried out as follows:-
An effigy made of straw and old clothes representing the culprit was bound to a pole* and set in an upright position in the centre of either a handcart or a small pony cart, in which was seated the stang master: and folowing behind were gathered all the ragamuffins of the village, armed with pan lids, tin cans, tin whistles, or anything which could be made to produce a discordant sound.
Being ready ,the cart was drawn in front of the culprits house and after a fearful hubbub, the stang master cried out in a sing song voice:-
Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle tang,
It’s nut foor your part ner mah part
‘At Ah rahd the stang,
Bud foor yan Bill Switch whau his wife did bang,
Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle tang.
He banged her, he banged her, he banged her indeed,
He banged her, he banged her, afoor sha steead need;
Upstairs aback o’ t’ bed
He sairly brayed her wharl she bled,
Oot o’ t’ hoose on ti’ t’ green
Sikan a seeght ez niver war seen,
Ez neean c’u’d think, ez neean could dream.
Sa ah gat ma few cumarades
Ti traal ma aboot:
Sae it’s hip, hip hurrah lads,
Set up a gert shoot,
An’ blaw all yer whistles,
Screeam, rattle an’ bang
All ‘at ivver ya’ve gitten,
Foor Ah ride the stang.
Then, for a few moments, there arose a tumult of sound, to which the wildest ravings of bedlam would seem insignificant. This performance lasts three nights, and on the third, the effigy is burned in front of the culprits house.”
* The Pole was a stang or cow-staff
Yorkshire Wit, Character, Folklore & Customs
R. Blakeborough
Published 1911
This is a rarity, a North Yorkshire Long Barrow, there are a few of them, but not in this neighbourhood. This is round barrow country, and there are plenty of them.
I reached the barrow from the B1266. Just after the cattle grid is a clump of trees with two round barrows beyond them. On the other side of the road is a public footpath, take this path and head roughly North west. You should see another round barrow to your left.
The path is well made and fairly flat. Follow the wall to your right to the top of the moor. Check out this wall as you go, the first section is roughly made of large stones and is not your typical dry stone wall. It is either very old or very poorly constructed.
The path bends of toward the trig point but you need to head for the right hand corner of the field. You should see the barrow sitting there. As barrows go, it’s a bit broken down but it’s definitely a long barrow.
It is aligned East – West and measures approximately 60m by 25m.
Not a lot to see on the barrow but look around. The views are fantastic. The nearby trig point is at 224m, so your pretty high up.
You have seaviews from Rock Cliff (the highest cliff on the east coast) to Kettle Ness with views over Staithes and Hinderwell ( I would hazard a guess that this is the last resting place of seafaring folk).
The views to the south are over the moorland with various barrows visible on the horizon.
When walking back check out the litter from the mole hills, there only seems to be mole activity on the section of the path nearest the barrow but there is loads of flint and chert lying around, all alas, unworked. I did find a piece of unworked jet about an inch square and a third of an inch thick.
Be lucky!
Useful travel info., buses etc.
Useful travel info buses, trains etc.
useful info regarding buses etc.
“...Maiden Castle at Grinton in Swaledale, is a curious place with a roughly circular bank and ditch approached from the east by a stone avenue. There are round barrows in the vacinity, and although the ditch lies outside the bank, it seems very probable that Maiden Castle is not a fort but some kind of sacred enclosure or meeting place”
Jacquetta Hawkes
A Guide To The Prehistoric And Roman Monuments In England And Wales.
Pub. 1978 Abacus
“Among the Pennines and the North Yorkshire Moors, too are linear earthworks comparable to those in the Parisian territory. Certainly not all are Iron Age, but a strong case can be made for some. The usual suggestion is that these are ranch boundaries. At Maiden Castle, on the southern slope of Swaledale west of Grinton, a ditched enclosure of rather less than an acre with a stone wall has a stone- walled drove road leading to it from the east. This is comparable in its general nature to the ‘banjo’ enclosures of the south, and we are inclined to accept it’s Iron Age date.”
The Brigantes
Brian Hartley and Leon Fitts.
Pub. Alan Sutton 1988
Located in field on the footpath up to Nab End Moor and the Bridestones.
From the B1257 take the footpath opposite to the entrance to High Crookleith Farm. Walk up the side of the meadow, cross the stile turn right and walk between the wood and the wall. After about 150m you will come out into a rough field. Walk up the left hand side of the field for about 75-100m and thar she blows. Standing beside a gill is a lovely erect stone about 2m in height.
Give him a rub from his old uncle Fitz.
Yet another site known as the Bride stones. Bride was a popular lass back in the day.
To get to the Bride stones, you can either continue a mile or so in a southerly direction from Bills Dyke or you can hike up the side of the dale using one of the many footpaths.
The hike up is great and I discovered a standing stone in a field that has not been marked or recorded.
Before you reach top of Nab End Moor take some time to explore to the rocks strewn around the rise of the hill. I think I may have found at least two large boulders that have cupmarks (I’ll send my photos to the very knowledgable, Greame C. to see what he thinks).
The circle itself is just below the cairn summit and lays beside a well marked track (an extension of the Billys Dyke path).
The circle itself is a cairn circle with many good size stone still in situ It is 9 meters in diameter with the tallest stones standing at 1 1/2 meters.
Despite it being beside a well made track, it is obvious that no-one comes here, there is a distinct lack of new age debris and coins rammed into crevices.
With the brow of the hill to it’s back, the circle looks out due south over a spit of land known as Nab End. It is a triangular spit flanked on one side by Tripsdale and the other by Bilsdale. In the far distance another mound is visible on the horizon ?Coniser Howl.
One of the South Westerly stones has markings that appear to be man made, again I need to get this verified before I crow about it.
Burl would give it a three, I’ll give it a two and a half because it’s a lovely place to spend an hour or two.
A Gazetteer of English caves, fissures & rock shelters containing human remains
Billys Dyke is an earthwork that extends from Clay bank to Chop Gate (pronounced Chop Yat) It skirts the edge of Urra Moor at the 325m contour.
No-one Knows it’s age or purpose. It sits on the North eastern rim of bilsdale.
To get there park at the top of Clay bank and follow the footpath up to the scars and jet working spoil heaps.
Once up on the dyke its a doddle, just follow your nose. When I was a young shaver, this was my prime hunting ground for exotic fungi.
From the dyke you can see the round barrows of the exotically named Round Hill.
If you follow the dyke to chop Gate you can cross the dale and hike up onto Cold Moor and then onward to the Wainstones taking in the dug-out barrows (and frog kingdom) of the three howes then across hasty bank, were the views of the vale of Cleveland are lovely, to the Clay bank car park.
Plenty to see and a nice afternoon’s walk.
Starting from the village of Hebden, Follow the footpath North along the westerly side of the Hebden Beck and cross the beck using the footbridge at Nanny Spout. Follow the footpath through the fields (avoiding the huge amount of dead rabbits) gradually heading uphill towards the very visible scar. The path snakes up the scar and brings you out onto the moor at Scar Top House.
You could drive to this point using the trackway but you would miss a beautiful walk. My daughter was most pissed off when I told her that we could have driven to this point.
Turn to your left and walk along the footpath onto the moor.
The circle is about 1/4 km along this path. It takes some seeing, even with the heather burned back, but if you take your time you will see a slight embankment which defines the circle.
A little further on there is the hint of a circle but the rocks here are country rock not loose stones and there is no embankment.
I was a little disappointed at first but then I took in the surrouding area. About a further 1/6 km from the circle is Mossy Moor reservoir. If one presumes that this small reservoir is sited upon an existing tarn, then this would make it a sacred lake, which gives the circle much more significance.
All in all a lovely site, a ruined circle, a possible sacred lake, a crackin’ walk.
Don’t forget to take a jumper!
This site is approx 1 miles EES of Appletreewick
“A major site (rock art) is at Skyreholme, where 33 gritstone boulders and other earthfasts have simple cups, some grooves, and a few rings. Some cups are linked by grooves. The rocks lie at c.350m OD.”
British Prehistoric Rock Art
Stan Beckensall
Pub.1999
We parked up beside the B6265 Pateley Bridge road and entered the moor through a gate beside the quarry.
A short traipse revealed a moor covered in stone debris. Following Ironman’s instructions we walked along the brow and there it was.
Appletreewick is a lovely little circle.
In comparison to the lakeland circles, which have the vibe of a neolithic minster, Appletreewick has the vibe of a chapel serving a small community.
Once you’ve taken in the circle check the view and you know why it is sited there. It is on a hillside at the convergence of three dales. Ahead of you is Wharfedale, to your right is the valley of the River Dibb and to your left the valley of the Barben Beck.
A mile or so to the south east there is a large area of cup marked rocks, I did not have time, (or should I say my kids would not come with me and I couldn’t leave them) to investigate them. I shall definitely return to this area.
I love this henge. It is completely wooded with a well defined, deep ditch and bank.
The wood has obviously saved it from the plough.
This feels like a far more intimate space than the gargantuan central henge. More fitting for a final ritual venue (if the henges were processed through).
The vibes are lovely and you could spend a day just mooching around this place, a good spot to spend a night in, too.
The floor is lovely and springy due to years of accumulation of leaf litter and that lovely loamy soil it forms.
I was loathed to leave this place but my bread snappers demanded that I pay the bribe I had offered for visiting. A visit to Stump Cross caverns.
This is a beast of a henge, it’s huge!
There is no obvious access so we had to bust-in over the gate and then Wow! How many folk would this place hold? and jesus! why did they need three of ‘em.
Although the bank is quite broken down in places you still get the feeling that this place is a monster.
If all three henges are contemporary with each other the amount of work put in is immense, there must have been some serious stuff going on here back in the day.
My theory, for what its worth.
If you are journeying up to the axe country from the South and East you will hit this place. The central henge could be the mart where animals are traded for the precious axes. It just looks too big for people. A neolithic N.E.C.
The site is also central to people from the Dales, the Vale of York and the Tabular hill peoples. Three sets of folk, three henges ????
I see the great whale- back of Upleathham every day from my home and i find it a totally mystical place.
The side that faces me houses a mesolithic site from which lots of flint tools and cores have been recovered. The other side of the hill houses a round barrow with a, supposed, cup marked kerb.
All the bits in between are covered on one side by Errington Woods and the remains of the Victorian Iron stone mines and farmland everywhere else.
Approach the site from New Marske and you’ll encounter a lovely sunken trackway leading around the hill. Upleatham village is a bourgoise spot but has a certain charm (but no pub!) a lovely romanesque church, now a private house, a well, a tiny unused chapel surrounded by a DMV.
The woods also yield the occasional cup marked rock from their bed of pine needles. I’m sure if the woods were stripped, much more would be revealed, but what would be the point of that.
The views over Teesside and the Tees bay are beautiful .
If you go to the woods at dawn or dusk you’ll see lovely shy deer chillin.
Roseberry Topping
Oh, how indelible a lovely view
Imprints itself upon our memory:
For, who can climb thy summit and from thence
Behold that prospect, so enchanting; spread
Before his wonderous gaze; nor feel it’s power
To cheer the mind, and elevate the soul?
Around, and over us, the clouds are borne
with gentle motion, glittering in the sun:
Like those huge icebergs which in Arctic Seas
Contrast with dazzling white the blue beneath.
Whilst others fleecy float with crimson tints,
Emblems, at once of purity and peace.
And far beneath us blooms the lovely dale
Of Cleveland, with it’s smiling fields of corn;
It’s meadows, with their peaceful flocks and herds,
It’s rural villages, those happy seats
Of busy, prosperous industry, and all
The little farms which doth the landscape bound,
And give an animated gaiety,
Adding fresh pleasure.....................................”
There’s at least another 100 lines of this!
It was written in the 1850’s by a geezer called Mr. J.R. Robinson of Drewsbury.
“Within this parish, on the summit of the mountain that overlooks the villages of Kirkby and Broughton, there is a singular monument, called by the neighbouring people, the Wain-Stones: which, according to the most pobable etymology of the word may denote the stones of lamentation, and are probably Danish, erected in memory of some Danish cheiftain slain here. It consists of a rude collection of stones some of the of an immense size, and all apparently in their natural position, except one which stands erect and appears to have formed a part of some ancient cromlech.”
The Hstory & Antiquities of Cleveland
Rev. John Graves
Pub. 1808
Greame C’s lovely northern rock art site
This is a Yorkshire stone!
It’s big and brash and where it shouldn’t be.
How the hell this fella survived the building of the church and graveyard beats me.
This is a world class standing stone both for its height and its Yorkshire balls for surviving to tell the tale.
Like all big fellas, he’s got a little mate tucked away in the corner of the boneyard, just sat there squat and watching.
Go check him out, he will not fail to impress you.
The Howe sits over the village, it is big and dominating and doesn’t care who knows it. I don’t get any nice vibes here. We hang around for just long enough to take the place in and then move on.
This is not Willy Howe, I hear no music here.
The first stop on a sunday odessy for me and the bairn Timmo.
The sheep in these fields are nutters, they run at you! maybe it’s because they’re lambing or maybe its because they’re Yorkshire Fighting Sheep I dunno but it freaked me and the lad.
Just a short walk to the stones and the view is lovely, Robin Hood’s Bay is framed by the surrounding moors and big fat sky.
The ambience is built upon by the cries of a pair of curlew who judging by their noise must have a nest near-by.
The stones are lovely, all three of them, three different characters. There must have been more, there is a plentiful supply of local stone and some big fellas have been tucked into the local walls. For me, these three will do, a very happy trio.
There is possibly a number of cupmarks on the most westerly stone on the outer face.
Yeh a lovely place.
After Willy Howe I found Ba’l Hill a bit of a let-down. It was fairly small compared to Willy and Duggleby. We have mounds this size on the North York Moors.
I couldn’t really see it’s place in the landscape.
Coolest of names, but left me confused.
Me and Tim (my indentured dodman) visited Willy Howe on the way back from Rudston on a lovely sunday afternoon. Tim was greatly amused by the name.
You can’t miss it in the chalk, wold landscape, the thought crossed my mind that the landscape was very feminine with it’s broad rollings and undulations.
If this is the landscape of the goddess then she’s a big lass.
The trees on its flanks were just coming into bud and there was a lovely show of daffs on one side. Spring had sprung on Willy Howe, a very sexy place.
A poem by Herbert Read
Kirkdale.
I, Orm the son of Gamel
Found these fractured stones
Starting out of the fragrant thicket.
The river bed was dry.
The rooftreesnaked and bleached,
Nettles in the nave and aisleways,
On the alter an owls cast
And a feather from a wild doves wing.
There was peace in the valley:
Far into the eastern sea
The foe had gone, leaving death and ruin
And a longing for a priest’s solace.
Fast the feather lay
Like a sulky jewel in my head
Till I knew it had fallen in a holy place.
Therefore I raised these grey stones up again.
St Gregors Minster was rebuilt by Orm the son of Gamel between 1055 and 1065. This event is commemorated by a beautiful Saxon sundial which is inscribed thus “Orm Gamal’s son bought St. Gregory’s Minster when it was all broken down and fallen and he let it be made anew from the ground to Christ and St. Gregory, in Edward’s days the King and in Tosti’s days, the Earl.
This is day’s sun marker at every tide. And Haworth , me wrought and Brand priests.”
Lovely eh?
The church contains many items of Anglo Scandanavian and Anglo Saxon stonework including Tomb slabs, decorative panels and a beehive quern.
The cave is situated half way up a quarry wall in a small limestone quarry about 50 yards from the ford of the Hodge Beck. The muddy path proves the site is visited but this does not detract from the general ambience. The cave is about 18 foot up from the quarry floor but is an easy climb me and my five year old lad, Timmo managed it with ease. Once you have crawled into the cave (torch required) the roof rises gradually and the cave splits in two.
We were reluctant to go past this point, but the there appears to be lots of cave futher in.
The nearby Hodge Beck is worth exploring as is the most excellent St Gregors Minster which is probably the most perfect church I have ever seen and is only a five minute walk from the cave.
Kirkdale is beautiful and will not fail to impress you.
The Kirkdale Hyena Cave was discovered by quarrymen in 1821 when they discovered enormous amounts of bones stashed in the cave. The find was investigated by the mighty Professor William Buckland, Prof of Geology at Oxford University. Buckland identified the bones of Lions, deer, reindeer, rhinoceros, bear, horse and other small animals. There were also the remains of more than 300 hyenas. Buckland studied the caves for more than 2 years and wrote his findings up in the book “Reliquiae Diluvial” or “Observations on the organic remains contained in caves, fissures and diluvial gravel and or other geological phenomena, attesting the action of an universal deluge.”
Buckland argued that these remains proved that the biblical narrative of the flood was true.
“On the summit of this promontory , which spreads out to the forthwards into an extensive plain, there is an ancient encampment, conjectured to be of Saxon origin, consisting of a double circle of rough loose stones: the inner rampart or entrenchment being 150 paces in cirmcuference; and the whole still perfect except on the north, where a small portion of the circle is cut off by the abrutness of the rock,which on that side is nearly perpendicular. This was probably constructed by the Saxons about the year 492 when they were overthrown by the Britons at the battle of Badon-Hill”
The History of Cleveland by John Graves published 1808
“About a mile south from the village of Great Moorsham, stands FREEBURG-HILL,a detached mountain of a conical form, called by Pennant “a vast artificial mound or tumulus;” but it is evident, he oberserved it only at a distance; as there is a naturalrock on it’s top now wrought as a quarry,which is a decisive proof thatit was not constructed merely by the hand of art . It is conjectured by some to have been a druidical work, onthe same model as Silbury-Hill in Wiltshire: but considering its altitude,situation and stupendous dimensions has a much greater solemity attached to it.”
The History of Cleveland by Robert Graves published 1808
Described in the 18th century as “the Silbury of the North”. This beautiful mother hill sits in the middle of Moorsholm moor a few hundred yards away from the busy A171. As its name suggests the hill was dedicated to Freya and was a focal point for ancient man. The hill is surrounded by groups of barrows and assorted earthworks. The summit bears the scars of two hundred years of treasure hunters seeking freyas hoard.
I can remember a few years ago when a unknown goup erected a number of brightly coloured flags on the summit, i’m sure the mother would approve.
The site has lovely views over the moors and me and tim (dodman apprentice) had a nice post-christmas picnic between the high and low stones on a nice flat outcrop
The whole complex is a bit of a bombsite really.
Trying to inturpret this site is nigh on impossible. Possible stone rows, possible four poster and circle. I don’t think we’ll ever know. The tallest remaining stone is constantly under attack from arseholes jamming coins into the weathered cracks with the result of accelerating the erosion. The whole site is becoming terribly eroded by vehicles accessing the moor and ?the robbing of stone
Big beautiful steam pudding shaped Silbury wearing a frosting of snow. On a cold November day we stood in awe of this mighty mound. The slushy sounds of the traffic povided a soundtrack to our wondering. Why the fuck........
Me and Carolyn and a cold windy day, wound our way up the footpath to the Longbarrow with the glorious Silbury always over our shoulders.
When we arrived we had the place to ourselves. Wow beautiful! Supprisingly enough it wasn’t cold inside, the whole place gave off an air of calm warmth.
We then witnessed a snow storm gradually make its way from the downs, across Silbury and up to us, coating the world in a powdery hail. We decended from the hill into a different landscape from the one we accended from. Lovely, magical.
After 6 hours of driving we finally approached Avebury, it was early evening and the road was heavy with traffic, both Mrs Fitz and myself were feeling a little jaded.
FUCKIN’ HELL! The Swindon Stone! It just leapt out of the twilight, BANG.... re-energised ...here we go!
All excited we parked up at the pub (rooms pre-booked 2 nights), got our stuff up to the room (The Keiler Room no less), looked out of the window, BANG... The Cove staring back at me..what a view. We yomped out into the dark and started greeting the stoney chaps. Talk about a rush!
The next morning up early full breakfast back to the chaps, for a brief stroll. Mrs Fitz is no great megalithomaniac so she humours me and I don’t push it. Off we go to Devizes (Mrs Fitz checks the market and I mooch around the lovely museum) after this comes Stonehenge (ruined by the almost unavoidable heritage industry, but what can you do? you gotta keep the numpties from wrecking the place, I just find it all very sad, a bit like a trip to the zoo..no joy) ) Marlborough (not impressed), West Kennett (very impressed) and Silbury..Yow!( these are discussed elesewhere).
Back in Avebury. The place has had a dusting of snow and is lovely and frosted. Mrs Fitz chills and I set off with Burl’s Pocket Guide to show me the way. What a place, hardly anyone there, it is just so fuckin organic, stones and village together weaving in and out of each other. The village has prevented the circle becoming another site in a cage (stonehenge).
Following Burl’s root I traipse round the stoney chaps, stopping to chat here and there and just picking up the energy vibe until i reach a point in the SE sector when I feel like..DING .. fully charged. I then hit the West Kennett Avenue. I almost flew down the thing, I was buzzing so much, chatting like a monkey to the stoney chaps and just off in a world of my own, feeling like a lord’s bastard...pure bliss mateys.
Lovely place for some birthday respite. Five hours of driving on a lovely day. Hi to the pilgrim we interrupted.
lovely gnarled stones. They must have had a great old time selecting them. my kind of stones. The breeze in the trees hinting at something and not quite understood. The Kingstone leaning to catch the whispering breeze.Oh what a place. The vibe was Northern. I will return. Stones with holes, you can’t beat ‘em. A hole in a stone is a window, someone knew this, we know it too.