Where No Priest Will Go

“Culbone, Oare and Stoke Pero – places where no priest will go-o” says the old Exmoor rhyme about three of the moor’s remotest churches.  That’s not totally surprising for they must be some of the most isolated in England and all involve considerable effort to reach even with today’s modern transport.  Or, perhaps, it was because of their association with witches, bandits and lepers that made them reluctant to go. In his book, Exmoor Memories, A(rthur) G(ranville) Bradley writing of his time spent on Exmoor in the 1860s, tells of how the parson of Simonsbath church wouldn’t stay on the moor during the winter, leaving his parishioners to spiritually fend for themselves.  With no roads at that time crossing the moor, one can hardly blame him.

even today, Exmoor is a wild and rugged place

I recently visited Culbone church which can still only be reached on foot.  Whichever of the two routes you take, a very steep climb is involved but the effort is well worthwhile when you finally get there.  The deep wooded combe opens up just enough to allow room for the church and two houses.  It is a very tranquil spot and, resting there in an attempt to recover breath, it did feel very spiritual too – perhaps because records show that it has been a place of worship and meditation for over sixteen hundred years.  The present church was mentioned in the Domesday Book so is just a mere one thousand years old!

Culbone has been a place of worship & silent contemplation for over sixteen hundred years
the private box pews where only the gentry would sit

Claiming to be the smallest parish church in England – it is only 35 foot x 11 foot in size – it can seat about thirty on its hard, wooden pews.  It also has a small box pew where the family of Ashley Combe House once sat.  Like many of the buildings that must have once populated the area, Ashley Combe House has long since disappeared.  Entering the church through its thirteenth-century porch two things are immediately noticeable: first that it is still lit by gas and secondly, the ancient, stone font, now also well over a thousand years old.

the church is still let by gaslamp
the one thousand year old font – how many baptisms has it seen?

Despite the hardship in reaching the church and its very few houses, it is still very much a living church with services held there fortnightly.  However, the priest, perhaps mindful of the old rhyme or the lepers that once roamed the woods lives elsewhere.  To visit Culbone it is possible to park the car by the sea at Porlock Weir and climb 400 feet to reach it or, as we did, park at the top and walk down.  If that sounds the easy option, remember there is still the steep climb back!  Either way you’ll be rewarded with breathtaking sea views and the chance to glimpse a way of life (and worship) now almost totally past.

the church is hidden in a deep, wooded combe
Porlock Weir

Oare church, these days is by far the easiest of the three churches to reach for it is just a short drive down a narrow lane from the A38 Porlock-Lynmouth coastal road.  Famed for its association with Lorna Doone, the novel by R D Blackmore, Lorna was shot at the altar on her wedding day by the wicked outlaw Carver Doone.  A pretty, riverside walk through the stronghold of the Doones, the Doone Valley, is possible from nearby Malmsmead where there is camping as well as an art gallery and coffee shop named the Buttery.  Overlooking the picturesque bridge and ford, it also serves great food and is well worth a visit.

Oare church is easily approached by a narrow lane
the bridge and ford at Malmsmead

Compared with the church at Culbone, Oare is a relative newcomer having been built in the 1400s and then partially rebuilt four hundred years later.  Inside, it is light and airy with memorials to Blackmore and also to the Snow family who feature in the novel.  Blackmore tended to use local family names and traditions in his writing and mixing fact with fiction.  Ridd is another local name; its variation Red is recorded on many of the gravestones at Culbone. For those not too familiar with the tale of Lorna Doone, or to see photos of the Doone Valley take a look at my earlier blogs, The Story of Lorna Doone – just a myth? and A Walk in the Doone Valley.

the interior of Oare church is very light and airy
the window through which Carver Doone shot Lorna on her wedding day as she stood at the altar

There are wonderful, albeit rather long, walks to Stoke Pero church from Horner Woods (car park at Webber’s Post or in the village of Horner), taking in the ‘four corners of Horner’ and distant views of Dunkery Beacon, the highest point of Exmoor. It is well worth the effort for apart from the views there is a good chance, providing you walk quietly, of spotting red deer, the largest of our wild deer and for which Exmoor is now one of its few remaining strongholds.  There is plentiful wildlife to be seen along the river too – Dippers and Kingfishers and with Buzzards soaring overhead.  You may even be lucky enough to see Red Kites or even White-tailed Sea Eagles which are becoming ever-more frequent visitors to the area.

Dunkery Beacon from Webber’s Post
wild red deer hind with its calf half-hidden in the deep woodland

It is possible to drive to Stoke Pero although the lanes are long, winding and narrow.  The road even passes through a working farmyard which confuses many, especially visitors from overseas who find our narrow lanes scary enough at the best of times! If you choose to reach the church this way you will fully understand why a priest might not want to be bothered to travel there. Below is an Ordnance Survey map showing the three churches; I would strongly advise to carry a paper, rather than digital, version of the map for phone signals can be a bit erratic in such remote countryside.

the three churches – a good map and equally good boots are essential if travelling by foot

We’ve had lepers and bandits with our previous two churches which only leaves witches as a possible reason (other than the journey) why Stoke Pero might have been clergy-less.  Look closely at the old oak door and scratched into its surface are a series of lines: witches marks.  ‘Apotropaic’ marks to give them their correct name are symbols carved into buildings to ward off witches and protect people from evil spirits.  They are usually found wherever there is a point of entry such as doors, windows or chimneys and usually date back many centuries when belief of the supernatural was commonplace.  It is not known when the marks at Stoke Pero were made or what they mean but they may well have literally put the fear of God into any visiting priest.

witches marks – apotropaic marks – on the church door at Stoke Pero

The church at Stoke Pero lays claim to being the highest on Exmoor for it stands, isolated at over 1000 feet above sea level.  Although much of the building is only a couple of hundred years old, the church tower dates from the 1200s, as does a list of the rectors which rather belies the story of lack of clergy.  Like Culbone, an earlier church here is mentioned in the Domesday Book and, also like Culbone, services are held here lit by candles or gas lamps.

old sign staking its claim as highest church!
Stoke Pero church sits high on a bank

I blogged about Stoke Pero over fifteen years ago (link here) and mentioned how simple its interior is with its whitewashed walls, the only colour being the splash of red from the altar cloth.  Revisiting recently, unsurprisingly the place hasn’t changed, and the barrel roof is as spectacular as ever.  However, this time I noticed other things too such as the delicate ferns growing inside the window of the ancient bell tower and the contrast between the rough-hewn stone windows and the smooth white plasterwork.

the magnificent barrel roof of Stoke Pero church
ferns grow in the cool shade found inside the ancient bell tower

If you have the opportunity to visit Exmoor, now protected by its National Park status, there is much to see – but only if your pleasure comes from the joy of being in wild, open places for it remains remarkably uncommercialised.  It has much to offer apart from the moorland (spectacular at this time of years smothered in purple heather) for it has the sea, rugged cliffs, fast-running boulder-strewn rivers and the unspoilt little towns of Porlock, Lynton and Lynmouth. It is a walker and nature lovers paradise.

the heather moorland tumbles away to the sea
Lynmouth

Regular readers of my blog will know of my love of Exmoor which I discovered now nearly sixty years ago.  They may even recall how through a chance meeting it changed the direction of my life, giving me an outdoor career as well as many Exmoor friends.  More remarkably, I have found numerous family references to the moor, unknown at the time, for A G Bradley was my grandmother’s cousin and other family members lived and are buried at Luccombe, a village not too far from Stoke Pero.  An uncle was involved with the rebuilding of Lynmouth after the devastating floods and loss of life in 1952 and a few years prior to that my parents honeymooned on the moor.  A small world indeed and one in a small way I have been privileged to be part of.

my first night spent on Exmoor – many, many years ago!
old postcard of the cottage in Luccombe where my ancestors lived in the early 1900s

Not So Mad After All

“ As mad as a March hare” so the old saying goes and at this time of year they certainly seem to be a little bonkers with their racing around, boxing and generally erratic behaviour.  However, it isn’t spring madness but sex that is on their minds – rather than being ‘a little bonkers’ it is their desire for a little bonking that drives them to the verge of insanity.

Here in the secret valley, as elsewhere, the hare population in some years is greater than others.  It looks as if 2022 is going to be a good year for them for there were eight in the field by our house a couple of days ago.  This gave great opportunities to watch them from relative comfort as they hurled themselves at one another and galloped around the field at great speed.  Of course, as soon as I reached for the camera they disappeared almost as if they thought that filming hare porn was rather distasteful and embarrassing.  After a while I realised there was one keeping well-hidden watching me. 

The hare forgot to hide its ears…

This ability to disappear has over the years given rise to many superstitions and old wives’ tales.  They were thought to have mystical properties too and I did on one occasion experience this myself.  I was visiting the ancient, subterranean earthwork, New Grange in Ireland.  If ever you were going to have a mystical experience it would be here for you enter the tomb by a long, low and very narrow passageway before entering a large stone chamber.  With almost no natural light it takes a while for your eyes to grow accustomed to the semi-darkness.  The friend that I was with said that she thought she’d fleetingly seen two hares which, of course, was impossible for we were blocking the only exit.  Back outside, we came to the spot where the two hares should be and there, at our feet they rested, two baby leverets, completely unafraid of our presence.

The entrance to the prehistoric burial chamber at New Grange
The two baby hares were nestling in the grass…

The hare has been revered and feared in equal measure throughout the world.  It was considered an ill-omen to meet one upon the road; there are myths concerning the cycles of the moon and the hare both connected to lunacy.  It has been much connected with ancient art and can be found in prehistoric rock paintings; in England in the Cotswold town of Cirencester (originally a Roman town known as Corinium) we have the magnificent Roman Hare mosaic now on display in the local museum (link here).  Discovered fifty years ago, it dates from 400AD and shows the animal feeding.

Hares are considered to be very nervous and flighty animals that also have the capacity to do huge amounts of damage if they should enter gardens or orchards.  Some years ago, one took up residence in a garden I cared for and I found, at least in this instance, that this was quite untrue.  Admittedly, if anyone entered the garden it would quickly hide but It accepted me as part of the garden and would hop around my feet quite happily.  It must have been feeding within the garden but I never found this to be a problem.  It is always a huge privilege when a wild creature trusts you and to be able to observe one at such close quarters especially so.  I always hoped it would raise a family there but I was more than satisfied with having just the one.

‘My’ hare would rest beneath a flowering jasmine but come out to join me in the garden
The hare would hop around my feet…

My’ recent hares finally couldn’t resist returning to their antics. Outrunning one another with their great speed and ultra-quick turns they, at last, didn’t notice me reaching for the camera. Although tricky to capture on film I finally succeeded.  As I did so, I thought of the thirteenth-century poem that I was supposed to recite to avoid bad luck.  The Names of the Hare, written in Middle English, lists seventy-eight names – With no memory for lengthy poems, I had to rely upon my previous friendship with the hare and the hope that would hold me in a special, protected place.  It seems to have done so but just as the myths claim, today when I went to bid them ‘good-day’, not a hare was in sight.

Success!
Time to go!

.

Courting Ravens

Before Storm Alex hit us this weekend, bringing with it over a month’s worth of rain in less than 24 hours, the weather had been exceptionally benign.  For several days the skies were clear, the sun shone and there was just enough of a cool breeze to remind you that autumn has arrived and revving up to take us into winter.  In short, it was perfect conditions for walking and, so it seems, also for courting.

The secret valley in the Cotswolds

No, I haven’t committed to a new relationship for I’m quite happy with my old one!  I’m referring to our local pair of ravens, recently joined by several others.  They have taken up residence in the shelter belt of conifers, mixed softwoods and brash that stand sentinel on the ridge.  From there they have a commanding view of the full length of the secret valley.  On my walks, they have been chattering noisily to one another in their croaky, almost primeval sounding voice.

First signs of autumn in the secret valley

Whenever I hear the sound of a raven, I’m transported back to Exmoor for it was there, as a sixteen-year old, that I saw my first one.  In those days (the 1960s) ravens were rarities only found in the remotest and wildest parts of the British Isles, taking refuge there after decades of persecution had exterminated them from kinder landscapes.  I was resting on the heather moorland high above Farley Water, a narrow and very beautiful river valley inhabited only by sheep and the wild Exmoor ponies and red deer.  Watching a black bird flying lazily along the valley far below me it suddenly body rolled and flew on its back for a few yards before righting itself to fly on until out of sight. 

Farley Water, Exmoor National Park in 1968 – not that it’s changed at all since then!

These body rolls, along with a wide range of acrobatic swoops and dives, are indicative of courting displays, usually seen in spring.  I’m sure my lone raven in Farley Water was doing it for pure pleasure, or perhaps it was practicing them just to ensure it got it right in order to impress the gals when they appeared!  Ravens do, in fact, pair for life and can live for ten years in the wild, sometimes as long as fifteen or more.  This longevity, as well as the millennia they have been on Planet Earth, has given rise to many myths and traditions.  Here in the UK, there is a long-held belief that if the ravens that live at the Tower of London should ever leave, both the Crown and Britain will fall to a foreign invader.  They are cared for and protected by the Royal Ravenmaster of the Yeoman Warders.  A much older belief common to the Abrahamic religions is that the raven was the first creature to be released from Noah’s Ark.

Ravens are now very much more common in the UK, having reclaimed much of their former territory and it is estimated that there is now well over 7,000 breeding pairs.  They are also one of the most widespread of bird species being found throughout the Northern Hemisphere.  It has recently been discovered, however, that when ravens colonised America those on the California coast became isolated – probably due to an Ice Age.  As a result, they have evolved into a distinct race genetically, whereas the other US birds are more closely related genetically to the birds of Europe and Asia.

Chris Skaife, Ravenmaster in front of Traitor’s Gate, Tower of London [photo credit: DebashisM]

So how do you recognise a raven from any other black crow?  Well, firstly, it’s size.  It is enormous in comparison.  Secondly, it’s voice which is quite distinctive once you’ve learnt to recognise it.  The raven is, however, a great mimic of other sounds:  twice I have been confused by the sound of a fencepost being knocked into the ground with a heavy mallet and by a small terrier dog yapping from high up in the top of a tall Scot’s Pine tree!  It’s tail, if it should fly overhead, is also another way of telling it apart for it is quite diamond shaped in appearance.  Finally – and not one I have seen mentioned in bird books – the wings make a distinct flapping noise much in the same way as a swan’s does.  Good luck with your raven spotting and don’t be alarmed by all the stories of them being birds of ill omen.  If you see one, it will make your day.

Raven at the Tower of London [photo credit: Drow male]
Depiction of ravens at the Tower of London 1883 [Source: Wikipedia]