Kettleness

A coastal walk with Graeme Chappell

Kettleness – Cat Beck – Randy Bell End – Hob Holes – Runswick Sands – White Stones – Redscar Hole – Hill Stones – Kettleness Sand – Kettleness Scar – Wind Hole – Long Sand – White Shoot – Maiden Wyke – Lucky Dogs Hole – Kettleness Alum Works

The Fairies long gone, the sound of Claymoor battledores no long ring over Runswick shores.

Hob has flit, kink coughs go untreated.

A whale lays headless and rotting on the rocks at White Stones. The stench of death and decay is all around, even the gulls avoid this place. We push on, scrambling over rocks, mouth breathing.

17th of December 1829. The village and Alum Works of Kettleness slid down the cliff to the sea. No lives were lost. The village and works were swiftly rebuilt.

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Ore was gathered from these beaches when Teesside furnaces were still an idle dream.

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Iron returns to its source, the sea reclaims its own

Shap Granite, batholith born, ice borne.

The sun is shining, we are bold.

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We wade through whin following a cliff-top path to the Alum Works, we watch Gannets. A very good day.

The Smell of Water Part 2. Hob Hole and the Giants Lapstone

Jeannie Biggersdale

This is the story of Jeannie who lived in a cave called Hob’s Cave in a small valley called Biggersdale in Mulgrave woods near Sandsend.

The folktales of Jeannie call her a fairy with a notoriously bad temper, given the name of her cave and her intense dislike of being disturbed I’d suggest that she was probably a hob or a witch. Misfortunes suffered by the local farmers were blamed on Jeannie, so who can blame her for her desire to lead a solitary life. The locals were quite happy to let Jeannie live in seclusion, fearing the consequences of angering her.

That was until one local lad, John Roe, convinced himself that Jeannie was a beautiful fairy and a good person who just needed someone to love and marry to cure her foul temper. One evening, after working on the farm, John mounted his horse and rode into Mulgrave woods to try and find Jeannie.

No one knew the exact location of Jeannie’s cave so John began to search the woods. Not far from the old ruined castle John came across the narrow ravine of Biggersdale, he dismounted from his horse and started to scramble his way along it.

He eventually came across a large cave with the remnants of a fire and other signs of habitation outside of it. John approached the cave mouth when all of a sudden a hairy, fearsome, shrieking creature with a long wand in her hand bolted out from the cave. John, scared out his wits, ran for his life with the Jeannie in swift pursuit. He climbed out of the ravine, onto his horse and bolted through the woods with Jeannie hot on his heels.

As John galloped through the woods, Jeannie began gaining on him. John remembered that his Grandmother had told him that evil spirits couldn’t cross running water so John headed for a low cliff, which would allow his horse to leap across the ravine of the Mickleby Beck to safety. As they approached the beck, Jeannie was upon them, scratching and clawing the horse’s hindquarters trying to dismount John. John spurred his horse on and as they leapt across the ravine, Jeannie stuck the horse with her wand killing the poor animal instantly. The horse fell into the beck and John was thrown to the safety of the opposite bank.

John picked himself up and saw Jeannie was shrieking at him from the opposite bank of the beck. He ran and ran until he reached the safety of his farm. Out of breath and traumatised he was unable to speak until the next day. Since that time no one else has ever dared to look for Jeannie or her cave, deep in Mulgrave woods.

Map Image – Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland

Illustration – John Faed’s illustration for the poem Tam o’Shanter. Copyright Ayrshire Museums and Galleries

The Giant’s Lapstone

The Giant’s Lapstone was a large boulder on the southern slope of the Basedale Beck valley at Hob Hole. The boulder  was described by Blakeborough as Hanging, as though balanced and held by some unforeseen agency.  he goes on to state that The massive rock was believed to possess the power of detecting those maidens who had in any way deviated from the paths of virtue..It was recognised as a testing-place of virginity and purity.

In the centre of the boulder was a hole about two feet deep shaped like a foot print. The tradition held that a maiden whose purity was tarnished would be able to place her leg in the depression without difficulty, whereas the leg of a virtuous women would cause the cavity to close towards the apex thus preventing her foot from being fully inserted.

The stone was also a place of pilgrimage  for newly married women seeking a blessing on any children that they may have. For a pilgrim to receive a blessing from the stone she had to the perform the following ritual.

The visit must be made on a Monday, the mother to be had to bring a cobblers hammer and a shoe for her left foot. She had to then sit on the stone and recite a long doggeral rhyme. Blakeborough gives us an imperfectly remember version of the rhyme.

Cobbler, cobbler, look on me,

I come to crave thy blessing,

…….

I beat thy leather for thee.

…….

Nine nails to bind the heel I take.

…….

A wild boar’s bristle, long and strong, 

To thy wax-end I fix it.

To nine long strands well rolled,

I wax them well with drawn wax,

I wax, I wax it well for thee.

……..

I wet the welt, I beat the welt,

As on they last I lay the welt.

…….

Tough and firm from the middle hide,

Well-beaten on they lapstone,

I lay my sole upon thy last.

Strong as nine wax-ends thrice doubled,

So none but thy giant hands could pull asunder.

 

Now lifting up the shoe the supplicant had brought along with her, she continued:

 

The shoe is now made,

As well shaped as it I now put on, I pray

May all my children be;

Strong in every part.

I claim but one shoe from thee today.

May I never have a two-birth.

I cast my old shoes from me,

Poor and shapeless.

No part upon the lapstone ever lay-

Into the water I cast it-

To it may all my ill-luck cling,

And that of all that shall be mine. 

So cobbler look upon me

With favour and great graciousness,

I pray thee look upon me,

And all mine yet unborn;

Ere I bid thee good-day. 

Sadly, nothing remains of the Lapstone. Some time around 1830 the boulder slipped into the valley bottom causing an obstruction in the beck and the stone was broken up by blasting. The portion of the stone with the footprint shaped depression was taken to Castleton where it was used as a mounting-stone outside of one of the inns. This stone is thought to have been broken-up to repair the road. The legend of the Giant involves a wicked Baron and a boot-shaped chariot drawn by thirteen swans. I will write that tale in another post.

Source – The Hand of Glory. J Fairfax-Blakeborough. 1924

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Markse Road, Ox Close, Wilton Bank, Pithills, Hob Hill, Four Lanes End, Village Wood, Beacon Moor, Errington Wood, Marske Quarry, Falkland Walk, Quarry Lane, Plummer’s Bank,

The edgelands are slowly dissolving

A dream job

Were the Hobs driven out by the ironstone miners or do they survive in the abandoned galleries beneath the Anglian burial ground?

When it snows, the children of Saltburn invade the golf course to sledge the banks. The greenkeepers don’t like the snow.

The path ends at the road, the road has no pavement, we are forced to walk in the gutters.

An aerial ropeway once spanned the low valley.

The rain arrives

 I collect a few flint fragments from the field margin including a small worked tool.

The terrier and I explore the woods and sandstone quarry. We disturb some deer, the terrier’s eyesight is not so good, he decides not to give chase. A pair of charcoal kilns lie in the quarry bottom waiting for spring to arrive

The quarry is much older than the ironstone workings futher down the slope. Sandstone from the quarry was used in local buildings and walls. The weathered quarry walls contain a number of niches.

Wet through and cold we head home along Quarry Lane.

Upleatham [Upelider DB, Uplithum c1150 Whitby, 1272 Ipm]. ‘Upper slopes.’ Cf. KIRKLEATHAM. U- is higher than Kirkleatham. Uplider DB seems to be a Scandanavianized form, ON Upphlioir.  The Concise Oxford Dictionary of English Place-Names. Eilert Ekwall 1974

soundtrack 

 

Crown End

This morning I headed over to Westerdale Moor. I’ve been visiting this moor for many years and have always had the place to myself. As I walked up to the moor from Hob Hole I noticed a group of estate workers over on Little Hograh Moor, I made a small bet with myself that I’d be getting a visit from a gamekeeper within half an hour of setting foot on the moor.

The heather is in full bloom and the moors look stunning, after a few short minutes my boots were covered in a fine dusting of heather pollen. Later I encountered thousands of tiny bees congregating on a sandy bank at the side of the path, I presume these were Miner bees making the most of the pollen harvest.

My first landmark on the moor was the standing stone which can be seen from the footpath on the west end of the moor, this stone is below the crest of the ridge and is about 1.2m  tall

Due north of the stone and about 100m over the ridge of the moor is an alignment of standing stones and boulders that runs for about 70m towards the Baysdale Beck, also known as the Hob Hole Beck. This alignment has  been interpreted as a Bronze Age boundary and features in Blaise Vyner’s inventory of Cross Ridge Boundaries.

Returning to the path I noticed an object embedded in the dry mud at the side of the track. It was a Swiss Army knife, it had obviously been there for a while and had a name dymo-taped onto it, Roger Pybus. I pocketed the knife and a minute or two later noticed a large 4×4 pickup heading across the moor towards me, less than half and hour, I had won my bet.

I walked up to the pickup and had a chat with the keeper. He was friendly enough and told me that he was checking to ensure that I wasn’t going to have a barbecue or fly a drone over the moor. He told me about the sculpture that his boss had erected on the far horizon. I told him that I was more interested in standing stones and asked him if Roger Pybus was one of the blokes he worked with, he said he was so I gave him the knife to return to its’ owner.

On the skyline, Seated Man, a sculpture by Sean Henry commissioned by the estate owner David Ross and erected on Castleton Rigg. To the right of the sculpture are a group of visitors.

The keeper, satisfied that I wasn’t a hungry drone pilot, went on his way and I continued  eastward across the moor. This side of the moor is dotted with low cairns and banks.

My next destination was the large embanked enclosure on eastern end of the moor. The enclosure is located on fairly level ground just before it dips down into the valley to where the River Esk meets the Baysdale Beck.

The Enclosure is about 40m square with fairly well defined walls. The walls are made of stones with the occasional large upright stone on the inner face. The walls stand at about 1.5m high and 2-3m wide. There is a 3m entrance on the east side. The general consensus is that the structure is Iron Age in date, but this is not certain.

I spent a little time walking around the enclosure and admiring the views along the Esk Valley to Castleton and then headed back to the road and Hob Hole via the Esk Valley Walk footpath.

Regarding the relationship between Hob Hole and the prehistoric remains, Stanhope White makes this observation

..the belief in a race of little men who lived under the earth may stem from the first interaction of the Celts with the indigenous Bronze Age people. When from time to time, a howe was opened for some purpose, possibly to win stone, if the so-called incense cups were found, they were regarded as proof of the presence of little men.

The North York Moors. An Introduction. Stanhope White. 1979

Frank Elgee’s map of Crown End.

A lidar image and aerial view of the Crown End enclosure

Willy Howe

Willy Howe is a large, tree-covered,  Neolithic round barrow in East Yorkshire. Local folklore tells the tale of a farmer returning home late one night  and hearing music coming from the Howe. On investigation he found a door which neither he or anyone else had seen before.  He opened the door and looked inside, he saw a table groaning with food and a group of hobs making merry.  The hobs spotted him and invited him in and offered him a drink. He took the drink and then rudely dashed off with the cup the drink was served in. The hobs gave chase but as soon as he crossed the first stream, the Gypsey Race, they gave up and returned to their feast.  On arriving home he saw that the cup was a fabulous gold vessel. He presented the cup to King Henry I who later passed it on to his brother-in-law King David of Scotland

Hob

“He meeteth Puck, which most men call
 Hob-goblin, and on him doth fall,”

A Midsummer Night’s Dream. W. Shakespeare

Hobthrust: a good natured goblin, who assists servant maids in their early morning work, but in a state of nudity” Glossary of Words, English Dialect Society 1877

Hob Headless

A sprite of a very malevolent disposition, named Hob Headless, used formerly to infest the roads between Hurworth and Neasham ; but had it not in his power to cross the Kent, a little stream flowing into the Tees at the latter place, being subject, we may suppose, to the same law which once prevailed in the supernatural world in Scotland, whereby, under some mysterious penalty, even the witches durst not, in their nocturnal raids, cross a running stream.

Hob used to go as far as the Millstone Bridge, on the Darlington road, but never was seen past that place. A man named Robert Bone, usually called Bobby Byens, was the last person who saw Hob Headless, who was exorcised many years ago, and laid under a large stone, formerly on the road side. There he was to remain for ninety-nine years and a day and should any luckless person happen to sit down on that stone, it was verily believed that he would be unable to quit it for ever. But when Mr. Anthony Moss, of West Middleton, place, the stone was smashed up by the mason’s labourer, and part of it was used as a foundation stone. There is, or was, another Hob at Coniscliffe, on the other side of Darlington ; but no particulars regarding him have been learned.

Legends & Superstitions of the County of Durham

William Brockie 1886