Long before the Christian Church came to these islands and forbad belief in and communing with The Little People, the native population had a strong association with Fairies, Elves, Boggarts and any other number of elemental beings that were thought to inhabit the landscape around them.

Many folklore theoreticians today believe that the origins of these beliefs could go back to Stone Age cultures. They were certainly very strong in the Celtic communities of the British isles and lasted up until relatively recently in Ireland.

The folklore of Britain and Ireland has long fascinated me but recently it has begun to absorb me more than ever as I try to understand why the once widespread acceptance of faery folk should have all but died away.

It was this in mind that led me to plan a trip to Troller’s Gill near Skipton. Many years after the Celts populated these lands the Vikings came with a novel mix of trade and violent invasion. They settled widely in the north of England and their legacy remains in the many Norse place names that survive. Would you believe that Troller’s Gill is Old Norse for Troll’s arse ravine?

It is described as a sinister ravine, the home of the Barguest, (a terrifying spectral dog, said to have eyes as big as saucers). The caves and crannies of the gorge are believed to be the haunt of Trolls, bloodsucking Gnomes, flesh eating Boggarts, gargoyle like rock Sprites, deranged Goblins, predatory Pixies, maliciously twisted Imps and other nasties! On the face of it a trip to the place shouldn’t be confused with pleasant.

But despite several websites declaring the location too unnerving to be visited alone I was sceptical; after all climbers are keen to test their skills on the challenging rock faces and have their own dedicated websites recommending Troller’s Gill. Even more comforting was my youngest son’s robust assertion that: “Trolls don’t suck blood”

When does a paranormal Odyssey merge into a lovely family day out? I would contend that it came pretty close to doing so today. The sun shone throughout and the agreeable weather brought out those wanting to commune with nature and stretch their legs on such a fine Sunday in July. Unfortunately the little groups of people and the glorious sunshine did little to imbue Troller’s Gill with any kind of eldritch milieu. It was a beautiful place, no doubt and the views across the dales before you enter the gorge were stunning but I never once felt that a Troll was about to roll a boulder onto my head or that a deranged Goblin would attack me without warning!

Despite all that I did stop to reflect that the belief in the presence of all these awful faery folk at this particular spot would have persisted for centuries, probably a lot longer and this got me thinking about the nature of such entities.

There are a number of theories concerning faery belief and it’s decline. Modern psychology has suggested that a small percentage of the population exhibit what is known as ‘fantasy proneness’. Proposed by Wilson and Barber the theory allows for a around 4% of the adult population to be able to fantasise to such a degree that they begin to believe that they are experiencing ghosts, fairies aliens etc. Today such people may be eyed with suspicion but in more ancient cultures these highly imaginative people would have just as likely been revered a seers.

Another theory is that The Little People are in fact elemental beings that can transmute into any form they choose. In yesteryear they would appear as a Sprite or Elf, today it is more likely to be a UFO or alien being.

My personal favourite is the concept of the thought form; a psychological projection from the subconscious mind. This form is then maintained by a group belief or collective unconscious.

As for Troller’s Gill I’m going back there when the weather isn’t so clement and the absence of day trippers lends a more brooding presence to this undoubtedly remarkable place. To see it in fog or mist or when dusk starts to fall on an autumn afternoon would be an altogether different experience.

Heavy drizzle greeted me when I packed my camera, tripod and other accoutrements into the car in readiness for my journey down to Stocksbridge in South Yorkshire. To be more accurate it was the infamous Stocksbridge bypass that interested me and in particular the point at which a small lane crosses it by means of a bridge.

As I sped down the M1 in the rain and spray the car stereo played R.E.M. and Michael Stipe sang:

“I’m breaking through,
I’m bending spoons,
I’m keeping flowers in full bloom,
I’m looking for answers from the great beyond.”

OK, so the sentiments may have seemed just a tad ambitious; presumptuous even, but it felt like a good omen on only my second leg of the Odyssey.

I figured it would be best to exit the motorway at junction 37 and head west towards Thurlstone before taking one of the many minor roads south towards Stocksbridge. I had never been to the area before and this was probably not the best way to approach this particular town if you are not sure where you are going.

It seems to be a peculiarity of the area that rather than have signposts at road junctions the roads themselves have names, which is kinda cute but did little to help me read my Ordnance Survey map.

But why, I hear you ask, am I wandering around the southern Pennines in inclement weather looking for a bridge? It’s a fair question and I will briefly explain.

Under the section ‘Ghosts and Hauntings’ on this site I have written in some depth on the remarkable events that have occurred in this outwardly unremarkable area of land in the last two decades, but the salient points are these;

In 1987 the bypass that now skirts the edge of Stocksbridge was nearly completed but the bridge that takes Pearoyd lane over the new road was still under construction. In September of that year there occurred events that terrified four mature men not used to chance encounters with the paranormal.

The first two witnesses were security guards who worked for Constant Securities. On the night of 7th September they drove up to the half finished bridge as they were accustomed to doing. The bridge was constructed in such a way so as to make it impossible for children to climb onto the structure. In other words there was no way up or down. Despite this, the lights from their Landrover picked out a figure on the top of the bridge and the beam seemed to go right through the form. They also described their Landrover as being bounced around. Shortly before they had reached the bridge the men noticed a small group of children dancing around the foot of a pylon, dressed in ‘old fashioned clothes’. This, it should be stressed, was at 12.30 at night.

The profound effect it had on the two guards was far reaching. They had sought help from the church and it wasn’t long afterwards that both men had left their employment.

Police Constables Walton and Bellamy (names changed) were the next witnesses to the disturbing events and theirs was an experience even more unsettling than that of the security guards. The police had been contacted by one of the guards, their boss Michael Lee and the local vicar Stuart Brindley but they were powerless to do much of consequence.

However the two constables did take a drive up to the Pearoyd Lane bridge on the following Saturday night. The moon was almost full and the night was clear as they parked up the police Vauxhall. After noticing some unexplained movement on the bridge that then ceased the policemen sat and waited a few minutes with Constable Walton winding his window down. He described what happened next as, experiencing a feeling as if someone had walked over his grave, and he froze as if he knew something was about to happen. It was.

PC Walton had the distinct feeling that there was someone standing next to the car. He looked round to see the torso of a figure standing right against the driver’s door. He noticed that it seemed to be dressed in clothes from some time past, possibly Victorian, sporting a cravat and what might have been a waistcoat. The face too was momentarily visible.

The apparition could not have approached the car without being noticed and neither could it have instantly relocated on the passenger side of the car, which is what it did.

The final straw for PC’s Walton and Bellamy was the car being struck hard from the rear or side. At this point they drove hurriedly away.

These incidents are but two of many that have been reported in the district, many of which are related in my other thread. It seems clear to me that something in the surrounding landscape is in some way responsible for this focus of strange goings on. I have discussed before the ‘disturbance of land’ factor that may possibly activate hauntings of various kinds but I was struck by something else on this visit that could also be implicated.

You cannot help but notice the high tension power lines in the area. They criss-cross the landscape in an untidy tangle, straddling hill and dale. Very close to the scene of the hauntings is an electricity sub station.

The research carried out by Michael Persinger has demonstrated that strong electrical fields passed across the temporal lobes of the brain will sometimes engender a sensation of a presence. It has been suggested however that the strength of the fields necessary to bring about such effects could not be generated by these cables. I tend to agree but the electromagnetic activity in the atmosphere of such an environment must be considerable.

Can you spot the flaw in this theory about electro magnetic fields, especially in relation to the stories I have just recounted? Well I have just spotted one. In both stories there were two witnesses who experienced the same phenomena.

But let’s play around with the electro magnetic question. What if the fields generated were used by entities from other realms to manifest themselves in our reality. Or a middle way; the EM fields do affect our brains, not by causing subjective hallucinations but by enabling us to experience ghosts that would otherwise remain hidden.

With the drizzle almost stopped I found Pearoyd Lane and followed it to the bridge where the above tales took place. It turned out to be an unprepossessing location, smaller than I had imagined, both the bridge and the bypass. Below was the steelworks that dominates that part of the town, above was the upland area known as Green Moor.

Although I was on the pennines it is quite different here than in the Dales further north. Here the exposed rock and the dry stone walls are blackened by centuries of heavy industry. The little dales are populated by towns and villages that scramble up the hills and then give way to isolated farmsteads and fields of livestock. There is definitely a forlorn feeling about the area. I could quite imagine that at night time or in fog it could turn altogether more perturbing.

Since writing previously on Stocksbridge I have learned that the area around Pearoyd Lane has long held a reputation for being strange and unearthly.

I would have liked to wander along the public footpath near the bridge on Pearoyd Lane and explore some more of the myriad of tiny roads that meander across the hills but time was against me. Reluctantly I turned the car around and headed back whence I came.

The hauntings in the area have quietened down in the last few years it seems and I didn’t really expect to experience much but I’m glad I went and had a look at the spot where one of the most alarming true ghost stories occurred in recent times.

And if you are wondering who took the photographs of Earl Tosti on his car and at Pearoyd Lane, well there was this quiet guy off to a fancy dress do in Dickensian togs. I asked him to take the snap and he duly obliged…..never uttered a word mind. Odd.

Toby - paranormal researcher

Spofforth is a small village on the A661, situated midway between Wetherby and Harrogate. It is a pretty place with many attractive houses but most of the travellers that drive through Spofforth never think of stopping and having a closer look. If they did they might be pleasantly surprised. There is an interesting church and a charming pub, but of greatest interest to me is the ruined Manor house, better known as Spofforth Castle.

The ruins are approached by walking up the expansive green that affords an impressive view long before you reach your goal. I had decided to make my visit on a rainy Thursday probably because I knew I may have the place to myself and definitely because the atmosphere would be more charged. I wasn’t wrong.

The history of the house is interesting but not spectacular. William de Percy was granted 86 lordships in the north of England by his friend King William after the conquest in 1066. Spofforth became the home of the Percy’s until they moved their power base to Alnwick in the north east in the fourteenth century. The Percy’s lost the house and lands after backing the losing side in the Wars of the Roses but regained them again in 1559. The house was last inhabited in 1604 and was destroyed in the Civil War half a century later.

Today the ruins you see are mainly fifteenth century. One strange peculiarity of the building is the fact that the undercroft is built into the solid rock face. The hall which would have been above the undercroft was obviously impressive in its size and there is fashionable gothic tracery still to be seen above the large windows.

Of course it has a ghost, only one as far as I know. She is supposed to be a young maiden who took her own life by throwing herself off the tower to the ground beneath. The vision of her final action on this earth has been seen on several occasions. In 1969 some children and their teacher witnessed the fall and in 1973 two picnickers saw the same awful apparition. It is said that the spectre is bluish white in colour, and most srange of all, can only be seen from the waist up. There are also reports of her wandering around in the ruins themselves.

More important to me at the time though was the lack of shelter. I spent some time dodging the frequent and heavy showers that reminded me of the vagaries of the British summer. Certainly I had the place to myself and it was drab and gloomy in a rather satisfying way. There are tall trees that block out the light from one side and the built upon rock face on the other presenting a slight claustrophobic vibe. I took a number of pictures none with anything anomalous appearing on them unfortunately. Inevitably I kept looking up to the well preserved tower and imagined I might, with luck, witness the tragedy that presumably befell that young woman so many years ago.

After soaking up as much rain as the heavens could throw at me I reckoned it was time to get back to the protection of the car. Reason told me that on a hot bright day Spofforth Castle would be a cheery place to have a family picnic or spend a couple of hours sketching its romantic dilapidation but on this damp and dreary day it felt only sad and rather forlorn.

I will return to Spofforth because it is not far away and may well be haunted.I know that people have captured photo anomalies here so I am determined to persist with this promising location.

Toby

The Oxford English Dictionary defines an Odyssey as, ‘a long and eventful or adventurous journey or process.’

My aim over the coming weeks and months is to embark on such a journey across Yorkshire searching out the spookiest and most enigmatic places in the hope or capturing something inexplicable to intrigue those who read my reports and to convince me that there are, in the words of Hamlet to his friend:

“…more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt off in your philosophy.”
Hamlet, act 1, sc 5. 1.166

But as the OED suggests, an Odyssey can be a process as well and I would like to think that during my travels I will learn something about ghosts and hauntings through continued reading and empirical evidence. Those who have read my musings on the unexplained on Jules’s site may have noticed that I’m not big on ‘experts’ when it comes to the paranormal. If the evidence doesn’t fit the theory then change or abandon the theory. The trouble with the paranormal is that the evidence pulls in every which way. This doesn’t mean we should discard reasoned argument and debate but there is something to be said, for now and again, taking a step back and marvelling at the wonderful mysteries that are ghosts and hauntings.

I want to have fun too and try to convey that sense of fun to the reader. It is a mad activity this paranormal research in the field. I will get wet, cold and tired. I will experience nothing in many locations. I may get discouraged at times. But I will continue because it’s what I have always dreamed of doing. I’m hoping to be amazed, awestruck, and yes, even frightened.

Follow me on this journey into the biggest and most varied of counties, Yorkshire, where the landscape and historic buildings tell a thousand stories and the past may well come back to visit us from realms we can only dream about.

Toby

Now, this could be scientific lol. I would be interested if anyone has conducted a paranormal investigation in a location that has no hauntings whatsoever, has no history to it even. It could possibly be your own house!

Could it be possible to still capture, so called orbs, evp’s movement of trigger objects?? This could not only be an experiment to find out what spirits regularly visit there, but also, to find that these anomalies are common everywhere no just haunted places.

Try setting up a locked off camera in a spare room. Hold a séance in your attic space, place trigger objects in your bathroom and put a voice triggered dictaphone in your living room when you go on your summer holidays. Honestly, you never know what you may find.

Good Luck