Ley Lines (PDFDrive) PDF
Ley Lines (PDFDrive) PDF
Ley Lines (PDFDrive) PDF
LINES
The Greatest Landscape Mystery
Danny Sullivan
Green Magic
GREEN MAGIC
CONTENTS
Introduction 1
Chapter 1 The Mystery of Ley Lines 5
Chapter 2 Alfred Watkins and the First Ley Hunters 22
Chapter 3 Astronomical Alignments 40
Chapter 4 Ancient Sites and Their Unusual Energies 49
Chapter 5 Right On, Straight On:
The importance and meaning of the straight line 65
Chapter 6 Haunted Highways: Ghost lights and wandering spirits 90
Chapter 7 Spirit Ways and Death Roads 105
Chapter 8 How to Hunt Ley Lines 128
Endword: Where Do I Go From Here? 143
A Directory of Ley Lines 145
Suggestions for Further Reading 197
iii This book is dedicated to the memory of my father, Daniel John Sullivan
PICTURE CREDITS
For permission to reproduce copyright material, the author and publisher would
like to thank the following:
Plate 1 : Danny Sullivan; Plate 2: Danny Sullivan; Plate 3: Photo Vivians of
Hereford, courtesy of Hereford County Library; Plate 4: Detail from The
Prospect Before Us by the Albion Dance Band from an original painting by
William Dudley; Plate 5: Photo Alfred Watkins, courtesy of Hereford County
Library; Plate 6: Photo C. Carr-Gomm, courtesy of Hereford County Library;
Plate 7: Tony Morrison, courtesy of South American Pictures; Plate 8: Tony
Morrison, courtesy of South American Pictures; Plate 9: Danny Sullivan; Plate
10: Danny Sullivan; Plate 11: John Palmer; Plate 12: John Palmer; Plate 13:
Danny Sullivan; Plate 14: Danny Sullivan.
Page 177, Three menhirs at Oppagne: John Palmer; page 194, Loanhead of
Daviot: Jeff Saward; page 197, Merrivale stone rows: Bryan Bing.
While every effort has been made to trace all copyright holders, we apologise to
any holders not acknowledged
v
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
You could say that this book has been 30 years in the making, as during that
time many people have inspired and encouraged me to pursue the line of enquiry
that led to this publication. Notable participants have been Graham Moss and
Charles Dunnett, who first introduced me to the theories of Alfred Watkins in
1974; Tim Whittaker for giving me a copy of The Old Straight Track the
following year (which I still have); John Michell for The View Over Atlantis;
Roger Cudby, who encouraged the formation of Gloucestershire Earth Mysteries
Group in 1987 which led to my introduction to the Earth Mysteries small press;
Philip Burton for his generous support of my Earth Mysteries magazine3rd
Stonein penurious times; Paul Devereux for his inspiration and belief in me, and
for putting The Ley Hunter in my hands; Lionel Stanbrook for the idea and his
persistence, drive, commitment and help with the planning and construction of
this book; and my long-suffering wife Jo, for her patience, determination, the
relentless pursuit of a publishing deal, and for wielding a sharp pen here and
there when it mattered.
Special thanks also go to John Palmer, Ulrich Magin, Phil Quinn, Jeff
Saward, Eugene Zimmer, Brian Hoggard, Laurence Main, Gerald Frawley, Dewi
Bowen, Gordon McLellan, Dave and Lyn Patrick, Paul Bennett, Brian Larkman,
Michael Dames, Chris Castle, David Olmen, Martin Brennan, Ron Fletcher,
Alfred Woodward and Wayne Perkins, for correspondence and contributions
here and there, and for doing the work that kept ley hunting alive in its manifold
forms over the last 35 years or so, and whose contribution to the subject has
formed the bedrock of this book.
Thanks too to John Palmer, Jeff Saward, Brian Byng and Tony Morrison for
permission to reproduce their illustrations, and to Mr Robin Hill of Hereford
City Library for permission to reproduce material from the archive of the
Straight Track Postal Portfolio Club.
vi
FOREWORD TO THE NEW EDITION
This book was originally conceived as the first of a three-part campaign by
Lionel Stanbrook and myself to re-launch ley hunting as a popular pastime
following the demise of The Ley Hunter Journal and the melting pot of
alternative ideas about our distant past that once coagulated around it. The
second part of the campaign was to bring the subject of ley hunting to the notice
of the general public through major articles in the popular press and sound bites
on national radio, which was moderately successful, and the third and conclusive
part was the formation and launch of The Society of Ley Hunters, conceived to
provide a serious forum for discussion of leys and related subjects and the
sharing and dissemination of research and ideas. The society was launched in
2001. Both Lionel, an important influence on the shape and form of the book
you are now reading, and I made it our mission to restore ley hunting to popular
consciousness and rescue it from the muddy backwaters into which it had fallen
following the factionalism and infighting that had invaded the subject in the late
1990s. The jury is still out on this one.
The agenda of the movers and shakers of earth mysteries research had
always been to challenge establishment attitudes to our shared ancient heritage
and by the mid-nineties significant inroads had been made into academe. Largely
due to the influence of young researchers and the archaeological student body
who had grown up with books of the likes of John Michell and Paul Devereux
and magazines like The Ley Hunter. Ironically one of the results of this apparent
success was the demise of the old guard. The front line research and
development of ideas became the territory of the new turks of archaeology and
vii anthropology and without the academic discipline or the modern tools of
research the ragbag of ley hunters, geomants, pagans and earth mystics, which
never had much of a constituency to begin with, began to fall apart. The major
victim of this dissaray in the ranks was the closure of The Ley Hunter, the
flagship journal of earth mysteries, after nearly thirty years in publication and
the rise of the more academically inclined 3rd Stone magazine. Despite my
disappointment at the loss of The Ley Hunter I am proud to say that I had a hand
in both publications, being both the last editor of The Ley Hunter and the
founder of 3rd Stone.
Saddened by the loss of the innocence of the original ley hunting revivalists
of the 1960s Lionel Stanbrook and I set about rehabilitating Alfred Watkins, the
celebrated discoverer of leys, or leylines, in the 1920s with the writing of this
book. While The Society of Ley Hunters is still alive, Ley Lines remains as a
testament to Alfred Watkins and the ideas that emerged from his heretical and
groundbreaking discovery. I am delighted that Peter Gotto from Green Magic
Publishing was sufficiently enthused by the original book to prevent it from
becoming a quaint curio by republishing it in a revised and updated form. It
gives me the opportunity to correct some errors and to bring one or two loose
ends to a satisfactory conclusion. I hope it captures something of the excitement
of discovering the work of Watkins and other freethinkers that I felt when I was
introduced to The Old Straight Track some thirty years ago.
viii
INTRODUCTION
My interest in prehistory, and megaliths in particular, can be traced to a
casual visit to Stonehenge in 1969. My memory of first seeing the stones appear
on the horizon of Salisbury Plain as we approached the site from the main road
on that dismal summer afternoon has persisted down the years. While I
wandered among the stones (you could still do that in those days) preparations
were under way to publish a book that would ignite a popular interest in the
mysteries of our prehistoric past. That book was The View Over Atlantis by
John Michell, the very book that I borrowed from a student colleague five years
later as I started out on my academic career at Nottingham University. I became
intrigued by the idea of leys and quickly devoured the few books then available
on the subject. My friends were equally enthusiastic in those early years and we
spent many an hour tracking leys across the Derbyshire moors, making frequent
visits to stone circles and eventually spending long hours in Wiltshire dangling
pendulums and pointing dowsing rods crafted from wire coat-hangers, over and
around standing stones.
Such was my enthusiasm for the ancient sacred sites of Britain that I spent
most vacations hitching around the south-west and eventually driving all over
the country visiting and photographing as many sites as possible (see Plates 1
and 2). Along with my consumption of speculative literature on leys and Earth
Mysteries, this led me to research the subject in some depth for my final year
dissertation. That my tutor allowed this on an architecture course still confounds
me to this day.
Megalithomania (as John Michell termed it) is a life-consuming passion, and
this continued well after my studies had finished. I subscribed to a small
publication called The Ley Hunter and eagerly awaited its
Plate 1: The view down the passageway towards the entrance of Newgrange, Co. Meath, Ireland. The
roof box can be seen above the doorway and one of the stones of the surrounding circle aligns with the
passage and the midwinter sunrise.
Plate 2: The famous alignment of the centre of Stonehenge through the Heel Stone to the midsummer
sunrise. Note how the top of the Heel Stone touches the horizon.
Introduction
annual summer gathering, or moot, which was held in a different part of the
country each year. At these meetings famous faces and big-time authors and
researchers would gather, and each year new research and new discoveries
would fire me up to get more involved. Eventually I helped found an Earth
Mysteries group in Gloucestershire, the county to which I gravitated after
university. From that informal group of enthusiasts I launched one of the first
local Earth Mysteries magazines, Gloucestershire Earth Mysteries (or GEM as it
later became known). Taking a lead from The Ley Hunter, GEM organised field
trips, its own modest moots, and tracked leys across the Cotswolds with varying
success.
Eventually, GEM reinvented itself as 3rd Stone, the Magazine for the New
Antiquarian, and its horizons spread to include all aspects of ancient sites, Earth
Mysteries, strange phenomena, UFOs, alien animals, crop circles and
paranormal phenomena.
During this time I was invited to become assistant editor of The Ley Hunter
and juggled my time between the two publications before eventually taking over
The Ley Hunter from Paul Devereux in 1996. In over 30 years of publication the
journal has reflected the dramatic changes in the study of Earth Mysteries, from
its hippy revival in the late 1960s to its modern day quasi-academic
manifestation. Ideas about leys have changed considerably in that time, due
largely to the groundbreaking work of Paul Devereux. Not everyone shares his
vision, however, and many other diverse ideas, some insightful, some plain
crazy, still surface and are pursued enthusiastically by many people. Indeed, a
whole new generation of curious folk are eager to uncover the mysteries of the
past; people with little or no knowledge of the background and history of ley
hunting.
Since the ley revival in the 1960s there have been several attempts to
document the history and development of the subject, but I believe noone has yet
summarised the perplexing, challenging and unusual subject of ley lines in an
adequately objective and non-prejudicial way. Ley Lines is my attempt at a
readable and, I hope, open-minded history that embraces a wide spectrum of
opinion and gives pointers for a more inclusive approach to a subject that should
not focus on the investigations of any one individual.
Dismissed by some as pie in the sky, embraced by others as a magical
manifestation of the Earth under environmental stress, or as an eccentrically
British form of feng shui, the reasons behind the systematic making of marks in
perfect alignment on the landscape have presented a persistent enigma since the
discovery of ley lines earlier this century.
This book aims to lay some of the ghosts and settle some of the arguments. It
will not tell you exactly what ley lines are or were originally supposed to be;
nobody knows that for sure. It does not claim to solve one of the great enduring
mysteries of our countryside, but it does provide some answers and insights into
the extraordinary phenomenon of the ley line. Not least, it may inspire you to
explore the glorious countryside that nowadays so many deny, defile and ignore.
The book also traces the origins of ley hunting, explores and analyses some
of the assumptions made over the years as well as the most recent theories for
the alignments, and examines those propositions that have sought to explain the
mystery by reference to dowsing, crop circles and several other unexplained
phenomena. It shows how the original ideas of the measured and modest Alfred
Watkins, an Edwardian Englishman who first discovered alignments near
Leominster in the early 1920s, remain relevant and appropriate today, and that
on the available evidence Watkins should now be re-credited with one of the
most exciting, prescient and influential archaeological discoveries of the century.
This is a challenging starter manual for the modern ley hunter, containing 50
examples of leys throughout Europe that can be inspected and analysed by
anyone with a good pair of walking boots, a map, a compass, a respect for
ancient sites, and an abiding love of the natural environment.
The book also emphasises the unusual strength of the link between verifiable
ghost sightings and ancient alignments, and examines the relationship between
the ‘dead straight’ alignment and archaic religious ceremonies, many of which
are still observed in some parts of the world today. The discovery of perfectly
straight alignments and tracks outside the UK and Europe, in New Mexico,
Bolivia and Peru, for example, has rekindled the debate at an international level.
While there may be no precise or easy definition of a ley, landscape
alignment still provides us with a perfect opportunity to revive the original
enthusiasm and commitment of the ley hunter, and restore the practice of ley
hunting amongst all those with a genuine interest in the lay of the land and its
ancient secrets. Above all, I hope that reading this book will open your eyes to
the remaining wealth and magic of our fast-disappearing rural heritage. As we
enter a new millennium and anticipate our place in tomorrow’s world, we will be
glancing back into the dark even as we gaze into the light. Perhaps by looking
along the old straight track we may learn a few lessons for our journey into the
next century.
CHAPTER 1
At first hearing, the idea that ancient mounds of earth, burial places,
prehistoric standing stones and old churches should have been constructed on
invisible straight lines stretching in all directions across the face of the country
seems quite absurd, but that is exactly what Alfred Watkins suggested when he
first made public his discovery of ley lines in 1922. Why should our primitive
ancestors have bothered with such incomprehensible feats of surveying and
engineering? However hard to explain, the notion that special sacred places are
arranged in line with one another over great distances has played on the romantic
imagination since Watkins’s revelation as he sat in his car at Blackwardine
perusing the Ordnance Survey map and gazing across the Herefordshire
countryside towards the ridge of Croft Ambrey hill fort. However bizarre ley
lines may seem, deep in the human psyche they touch a nerve. They open a door
on some almost forgotten sense of order and present us with a view over our
increasingly threatened countryside that sees beyond the immediate concerns of
farmers, road builders and town planners.
Ley lines, claimed Watkins, criss-crossed the whole of Britain and could be
found anywhere by anyone. Among the features to look out for were beacon hills
where signal fires once burned, artificial mounds, earthworks, ancient circular
moats and old churches built on pagan sites. He asserted that a lost principle
linked these ancient waymarkers that often marked the routes of some of our
earliest roads and trackways in the centuries before the Romans set foot in
Britain. Watkins’s ideas formed the basis of his book The Old Straight Track,
published in 1925, which remains the definitive work on ley lines.
One of Alfred Watkins’s hand-drawn maps of leys around Llangoed, drawn for the 1933 Summer Meeting
of the Straight Track Club.
Alfred Watkins provided copious evidence to back up his claim that leys
were the remnants of prehistoric trackways, and his followers took up ley
hunting with great enthusiasm, forming a club – the Straight Track Postal
Portfolio Club – through which to co-ordinate their activities. Their explanations
and interpretations of ley lines were many and varied. It seemed the deeper these
ley hunters dug into the past the more confusing ley lines became. Not only did
they discover long-lost trackways, they unearthed lines of sites pointing to
sunrises at significant times in the year, lines of massive earthworks that could
never have been constructed for any practical purpose, parallel lines of sites and
regular geometrical relationships between sites forming giant landscape figures
that were on so vast a scale that they were forced to question whether they could
ever have been the work of man.
Even in the late 1930s, members of the Straight Track Club were suggesting
more esoteric explanations for Watkins’s prosaic discovery. In 1939, Straight
Track Club member Major F.C. Tyler, a colleague of Alfred Watkins, published
a pamphlet entitled Geometrical Arrangement of Ancient Sites in which he put
forward data in support of Watkins’s ideas. He noted that many leys shared a
common point of intersection; they would converge on the same place, often an
insignificant village or site that would never have required such a profusion of
tracks. Ley points on these alignments often occurred on concentric circles that
could be drawn around the site on the map, and which were spaced at regular
and specific distances from the centre. Elsewhere he found leys running parallel
for several miles which caused him to doubt that they were primarily used as
trackways.
Tyler’s conclusion was that the ancient tracks and roads, where they were
still traceable, did, as Watkins claimed, conform to the alignments, but more
significantly that the alignments were there before the trackways were
established. The alignments, he said, were ‘the remaining index of some great
geometrical arrangement of these sacred sites’, the nature of which he was
unable to specify. Add to this the sometimes impassable ground over which
many of Watkins’s old straight tracks ran, and the field was opened for a rash of
alternative explanations for the ley system.
In the same year, another Straight Track Club member, Arthur Lawton,
submitted a pamphlet to the Club entitled Mysteries of Ancient Man, in which he
introduced the idea that ancient sites of the type used by Watkins as sighting
points on his leys, formed patterns on the ground with fixed distances and
angles. He and Tyler were not alone. A year earlier, Dr Josef Heinsch, working
independently in Germany, presented a paper to the International Congress of
Geography at Amsterdam entitled Principles of Prehistoric Sacred Geography.
He spoke of a lost magic principle by which holy sites had been located in the
remote past. He claimed the sites were points on the lines of great geometrical
figures which were themselves constructed according to certain fixed azimuths
(horizontal angles) and to regular units of measurement, all based on simple
fractions of the Earth’s dimensions. Further, and to some extent in accordance
with the principles outlined by Watkins, he claimed that this ancient pattern was
still recognisable in the present landscape because of the adoption of pagan holy
sites by the Church after the introduction of Christianity into Europe.
As Watkins was formulating his ley theory, another German, an evangelical
parson by the name of Wilhelm Teudt, began to construct a fictitious folk history
of the German race based upon his study of the famous Externsteine chapel, in
an attempt to raise the spiritual consciousness of the German people, humiliated
by their defeat in the Great War. He claimed that this rock-cut chapel in one of
several naturally occurring giant twisted stacks of limestone in the Teutoburger
Wald near Detmold in West Saxony, was a solar observatory, and that
‘astronomical lines’ linking numerous sacred sites radiated outward from this
holy site throughout northern Germany. These lines he called ‘heilige Linien’, or
‘holy lines’ and their similarity to Watkins’s leys are remarkable. Like Watkins,
he published his findings in a book, Germanische Heiligtu¨mer (German
Sanctuaries), which inspired others to search out examples of heilige Linien and
culminated in the formation of a Society of Friends of German Prehistory, a sort
of Teutonic Straight Track Club. Like the study of leys, the pursuit of holy lines
in Germany died out before the end of the Second World War, and Teudt and his
theories were consigned to obscurity.
The outbreak of war may have put a stop to most ley hunting activity, but the
mysterious straight lines found new adherents in the 1950s. Once again Alfred
Watkins’s original and almost forgotten discovery formed the focus for a new
generation of freethinkers posing questions about our enigmatic past that
archaeologists and historians were unable or unwilling to answer.
The number of visitors to ancient sacred sites has increased enormously in
recent years, and still the questions are asked. How did primitive people drag
massive stones miles across country to build monuments like Stonehenge and
Avebury? Did they have sophisticated astronomical knowledge? Were they able
to communicate with the spirits of their dead ancestors? Could they fly? Were
they susceptible to subtle energies within the Earth? Are there secrets to be
discovered that could benefit us today? And so on. The one subject that cuts
through all these questions is the ley line, touching as it does on all aspects of
prehistoric activity, from the building of sacred monuments to the burial of the
dead and the uneasy relationship between mankind and the spirit world.
The interest in ley lines was rekindled through an unlikely connection with a
new popular obsession – the flying saucer. In 1947, American pilot Kenneth
Arnold, flying over the Cascade Mountains in Washington State, USA, spotted a
formation of crescent-shaped shining objects flying at high speed across his line
of vision. He later described these objects as moving like ‘a saucer skipping
across the water’. By the time the story had been reported by the local press his
objects had become ‘flying
Aime´ Michel’s map of UFO sightings and alignments in France in 1954.
saucers’ and were about to grip the public imagination on both sides of the
Atlantic.
In 1958, the French UFO researcher Aime´ Michel published a book entitled
Flying Saucers and the Straight Line Mystery, in which he proposed the
controversial theory that reported UFO sightings in France, when plotted on a
map, fell into perfectly straight lines. He called this phenomenon ‘orthotony’,
after the Greek ‘orthotoneis’, meaning ‘stretched in a straight line’, and the
parallels with Watkins’s discovery of leys are remarkable. Discredited now and
rarely referred to in UFO literature, this unexpected observation was to become
the catalyst for a modern revival of ley hunting.
In 1961, Tony Wedd, an ex-RAF pilot living in Surrey, privately published a
modest booklet entitled Skyways and Landmarks, in which the ideas of leys and
flying saucers were brought together for the first time. A melding of French
orthotonies, Watkins’s leys and a love of the countryside led Wedd to the bizarre
notion that UFOs used ancient mounds and hilltops as navigation beacons: ‘I
began to suppose . . . that the saucers’ crews knew about the leys’, he wrote. In
particular he was drawn to one of Watkins’s least convincing, but most
evocative ley markers: isolated clumps of Scots Pines. There are several
atmospheric photographs in The Old Straight Track which show mounds and
hills crowned with these trees, and it is not difficult to see how these must have
played on Wedd’s imagination.
Two grammar school boys, both flying saucer enthusiasts and members of
Tony Wedd’s Star Fellowship (a society whose members believed that mass
contact with extraterrestrials was imminent), resolved to revive the Straight
Track Club and to encourage new interest in ley hunting, given a boost by the
public’s insatiable appetite for UFO stories. One of them, Jimmy Goddard,
expressed his enthusiasm for leys and UFOs in the magazine Flying Saucer
Review in 1964:
‘Could it be that the intelligences behind the flying saucers built the ley
markers for navigational purposes, or perhaps in order to find readily a form of
magnetic current that is helpful to them?’
Wedd’s ideas developed from the claims of alleged UFO abductee Buck
Nelson in 1956, who said that flying saucers utilised lines of magnetic current
along which they navigated their craft. Fuelled by Tony Wedd’s enthusiasm for
the resurrected ley system, Jimmy Goddard and his friend Philip Heselton
revived the Straight Track Club in 1962, and in 1965 their newsletter, The Ley
Hunter, was published for the first time. A key belief at this time was that leys
were somehow related to an invisible energy, identified then as ‘magnetism’, but
which would take on a more esoteric character in the next few years.
LINES OF FORCE
The idea that there was some other reality behind the ley system, however,
was neither new nor exclusively confined to the world of UFOlogy. As early as
1911, a classic work on the fairy lore of Ireland, The Fairy Faith in Celtic
Countries by W. Y. Evans-Wentz, mentions the folklore of fairy paths or passes
along which invisible elemental spirits are believed to travel; he refers to them as
arteries through which the Earth’s magnetism circulates. This may have been the
source for the reference which appeared in the occult novel The Goat Foot God
by Dion Fortune, in 1936. In it she refers to ancient sacred sites as power centres
and suggests, without direct reference to Watkins or leys, that they are ‘linked by
lines of force’.
In his pamphlet on leys, Straight Track Club member Major F. C. Tyler
made this curious remark which heralded a revolution in alternative studies of
the prehistoric legacy of Britain and beyond:
‘It appears that there are a number of dowsers who have unwittingly detected
the consecration (of these sacred sites), which gives the same reaction to the
dowsing rod as is
obtained from water. This, however, is a suggestion of my own, and I do not
ascribe this idea to others. Anyway, it is a romantic one, even if not based on
logical reasoning.’
Such ideas might have been consigned to obscure footnotes in history and
folklore had it not been for the enthusiastic ley revivalists of the mid1960s. This
concoction of UFO fever, Watkins’s leys, dowsing and lines of force formed a
powerful and disorientating intellectual environment. One of its key figures was
John Michell, probably the most articulate and influential writer on the subject
of leys and alternative studies of the past. His articles in the alternative
newspaper International Times eventually led to the publication, in 1969, of his
seminal work, The View Over Atlantis, in which he eruditely expounded his
inspirational synthesis of UFOlogy, folklore, leys and archaeology, which gave
form and focus to the ideas that were to become known as ‘Earth Mysteries’.
EARTH MYSTERIES
In his book, John Michell went further than any of his contemporaries, with
the inclusion of new material relating to the ancient esoteric and obscure Chinese
system of feng shui. In simple terms feng shui was a set of rules for the correct
placement of tombs and other sacred buildings in the landscape. The ancient
Chinese believed the landscape was a living thing and that subtle forces, referred
to symbolically as ‘the breath of the dragon’, flowed through ‘veins’ in the earth.
These forces had to be found and kept in balance whenever a tomb, temple or
house was built. Some places were more auspicious than others and bad luck,
financial ruin and
A map of mythic Australia by David Mowajartai. The square nodes represent Aboriginal stories and
the lines linking each story are the lines of communication between the tribes.
even death could befall any person who disrupted the dragon’s breath without
taking the proper precautions.
Over the centuries, feng shui, or geomancy as it was described by 19th
century Christian missionaries to China, developed into a highly complex system
of pseudo-science and superstition and has continued to be practised in China,
Hong Kong, Taiwan and Singapore to the present day. A westernised version has
recently gained popularity in the United States and Western Europe. Michell
identified the straight lung mei, or ‘dragon lines’, which were laid out as part of
the great imperial palaces, as the Chinese equivalent of Watkins’s leys. However
the ‘veins’ in the Earth that were believed to carry the ‘breath of the dragon’
were anything but straight.
Similarly, through an investigation of the writings of anthropologists on the
traditions of the Australian aborigines, he brought to the attention of a new
audience the idea of the Dream Time. This was a mythical period in aborigine
history, set at the dawn of time when mythological creators or gods emerged
from the surface of the featureless Earth and began to wander aimlessly across it.
As they did so they carried out the same dayto-day tasks that aborigines do
today: they camped, made fires, dug for water, performed ceremonies and other
relevant activities. When the Dream Time came to an end the creators marked
every place in which they had performed a task or ceremony with a rock, a hill, a
watercourse or some other natural feature. Those wanderings across country are
preserved in the songs and stories of the aborigine tribes who now inhabit the
land. Each tribe has possession of one part of the whole creation myth and the
finishing place of a ‘line of songs’ is where the myths and songs change hands to
another tribe and hence form a tribal boundary. Michell infers that these
‘songlines’ somehow relate to leys and lines of magnetic current, though the
non-straight aspect of both the dragon lines and the aboriginal songlines was a
matter that wouldn’t be fully addressed by ley researchers for several years.
The impact of The View Over Atlantis cannot be over-estimated. For many it
was the first introduction to the work of Alfred Watkins and it inspired many
writers and researchers to take up the ley cause again in an explosion of
antiquarian interest not seen since before the War. In the same year, The Old
Straight Track was republished with a foreword by Michell:
‘The expansion in antiquarian thought, now taking place, is due in no short
measure to the insight, scholarship and determination of a provincial visionary, a
true Gnostic in that he preferred the evidence of his own senses and the voice of
his own intuition to the unsupported assertions of authority.’
Shortly before the publication of The View Over Atlantis, and in time for
Michell to include mention of it, there appeared a posthumous work by the
dowser Guy Underwood; The Pattern of the Past was to be as influential
amongst the front-line ley researchers as Michell’s book was to the general
reader.
In 1939, Reginald Smith, a leading authority on the Stone Age and Keeper of
the British and Roman Antiquities Department at the British Museum, read a
paper to the British Society of Dowsers describing how, at the centre of the
prehistoric stone circles and earthworks he had tested, he had found underground
streams of water radiating from what he called ‘blind springs’: He suggested that
sites for consecration were not arbitrarily selected but dictated by geological
conditions.
These discoveries prompted Guy Underwood to investigate the claims for
himself and he spent the greater part of his life, up until the age of eighty,
touring the country researching for his book. Underwood produced evidence to
suggest that the location of prehistoric monuments and all the details of their
layout and construction were dictated by the incidence of what he called
‘geodetic lines’. These were similar to the underground streams traditionally
located by dowsing or water divining. By the method of dowsing he relocated
several lost or unknown archaeological features and proved their existence by
excavation.
Underwood proposed that the forces, detectable by dowsing, are a principle
of Nature, unrecognised by science, which are generated from within the Earth.
These forces, which have great penetrative power and cause wave motion
perpendicular to the Earth’s surface, can affect the nerve cells of animals and
form spiral patterns that are controlled by mathematical laws. He concluded that
these natural forces might be an unrecognised effect of magnetism or gravity.
The tracks and roads under which Underwood dowsed his geodetic lines
were winding country lanes and footpaths, and although aware of the work of
Alfred Watkins, Underwood made no mention of leys in connection with his
‘unknown force’. That connection was to be implied by earth mysteries writers
during the early years of the 1970s. It wasn’t until the middle of the decade that
the final connection was made.
While Underwood was formulating his geodetic theory, it was well known
amongst dowsers that some points and places were ‘polarised’ or ‘charged’ in
relation to others. Some of these charges, it was claimed, exist below the ground,
but others, not apparently perceived by Underwood, are above it. The first above
ground charges were discovered on ancient standing stones, and this line of
research was taken up by Tom Graves, a dowser with an enthusiasm for Earth
Mysteries, whose book Dowsing: Techniques and Applications included some of
the developing dowsing ideas about ancient sacred sites. According to Graves,
standing stones are polarised in relation to the ground around them and to other
stones where they are found in rows or circles.
Graves spent many hours locating these polarities or changes with a
pendulum at the Rollright stone circle in Oxfordshire in 1973. He found that the
‘charges’ on the ring of stones rarely remained static for long. The polarities
changed constantly he said, spinning from one stone to another around the ring.
This spinning charge would eventually reach a critical level, claimed Graves, at
which point the build-up of charge would shoot out tangentially from the ring,
following a straight course a few feet above the ground. This line, he said, was
detectable as a faint dowsing reaction. The ‘energy pulse’, as he described it,
travelled six miles south-west of Rollright to a standing stone known as the
Hawk Stone. Graves called these dowsable lines ‘overgrounds’ and went on to
find several others at Rollright. He suggested that these overgrounds were the
‘semi-physical or non physical reality’ behind Alfred Watkins’s leys.
EARTH ENERGIES
Graves expanded upon this chance remark in his major work Needles of
Stone, which followed in 1978. He developed his dowsing ideas into a theory of
Earth energy management which he likened to the ancient Chinese practice of
acupuncture, only on a planet-wide scale. Standing stones acted as giant
acupuncture needles in a vast geographical energy matrix or power system. It
would be fair to say that this book alone is probably responsible for the current
popular notion of leys as lines of energy and is as far removed from Watkins’s
original vision as it is possible to get. But is there any reality behind these ideas
and theories?
The Ley Hunter magazine enjoyed a brief run in the mid 1960s and was
revived in 1969 under the editorship of Paul Screeton, who adopted the mystical
interpretation of leys as expounded by John Michell until the editorship was
handed over to Paul Devereux in 1976. Devereux was to pioneer the study of
leys for the next 20 years. He was, like most other modern antiquarians, a
believer in Earth energy line ideas, and it was decided to set up a research effort
to investigate the claims of dowsers, mystics and psychics who were talking
about unseen and unrecognised forces at ancient places.
The Dragon Project, as it was named, was a wholly volunteer effort with no
formal funding, which set about trying to track down and measure the elusive
‘Earth energy’ at the Rollright stone circle in Oxfordshire where Graves had
found his overgrounds. To this end, they employed a series of electronic
measuring devices and encouraged the involvement of numerous dowsers,
including Tom Graves, psychics and sensitives, recording their responses at the
site. The Project was directed by Devereux and the physicist Dr Don Robins, and
spent the best part of ten years at Rollright and numerous other stone circle sites,
tediously monitoring the sites for hours through the day and night. Once they
had accumulated sufficient data they hoped they might be able to draw some
meaningful conclusions.
Whilst unusual natural energy effects can certainly be measured and dowsed
at ancient sites, the results of the Dragon Project were not conclusive, and none
of the efforts expended on the Project came any closer to unravelling the enigma
of the old straight track. If leys are not prehistoric traders’ routes and they are
not lines of force, what are they? The search continued.
Whilst the ideas of Guy Underwood and Tom Graves were enthusiastically
taken up by members of the British Society of Dowsers in the late 1970s, other
researchers were pursuing the less sensational aspects of ley hunting.
In 1981, The Ley Hunter instigated the first serious debate on the viability of
Watkins’s ley hypothesis with the renowned prehistorian Richard Atkinson, the
author of Stonehenge, which was, until that time, the definitive account of
Britain’s most celebrated megalithic monument. In a letter to the editor he
summarised the main reasons why archaeologists rejected the ley idea.
Firstly, he said, the ley concept simply didn’t fit the picture of prehistoric
behaviour and landscape currently held by the archaeological establishment. The
idea that ancient man observed and recorded significant astronomical events
within their stone monuments was also originally resisted by Atkinson for the
same reason, though he eventually relented and enthusiastically embraced the
concept. Secondly, he claimed that ley hunters, working from maps alone, did
not take into account the distortions inherent in representing the curved surface
of the Earth on a flat sheet of paper. Supporters of the ley theory rejected this
criticism on the valid grounds that leys were of insufficient length for those
types of errors to have any significant effect on a ground alignment. The vast
long-distance leys that had been proposed by some enthusiastic ley hunters,
however, were certainly open to such criticism, and this is one reason why such
incomprehensible alignments were dropped by serious ley researchers and only
pursued by those writers and researchers with more faith behind them than
evidence.
A classical example of the long-distance ley is the famous St Michael line,
first brought to public attention by John Michell. This contentious alignment has
been the subject of heated debate for many years. Now firmly entrenched in New
Age consciousness due to its repeated publication since the enormously popular
The Sun and the Serpent by Paul Broadhurst and Hamish Miller, any level-
headed discussion about the St Michael line is all but impossible. The alignment
is alleged to be the longest straight line that can be drawn across mainland
Britain. It starts at St Michael’s Mount off Penzance in Cornwall and extends
through a series of churches dedicated to St Michael and St George (both
dragonslaying saints), through the Hurlers circle on Bodmin Moor, through
Glastonbury Tor in the Somerset levels with the ruined St Michael’s church
tower on its summit, through the megalithic ring at Avebury in Wiltshire and off
across country near the ruined abbey of Bury St Edmunds before diving into the
sea off the coast of East Anglia.
With lines of this length distortions due to the curvature of the Earth do
become significant, so much so that the line can only be made to work either for
short sections of the alignment where the map error is small enough to be
insignificant, or if the line is widened so much that it takes on the form of a
swathe of up to one hundred metres in width rather than a precisely defined line.
As a result, the line is only really convincing at the south-western end where the
sites cluster over a manageable distance. Keen not to dismiss the St Michael line,
authors Paul Devereux and Ian Thompson proposed the term ‘geomantic
corridor’ in their 1979 book, The Ley Hunter’s Companion. This term was used
to explain the phenomenon, suggesting that the line was probably the result of a
series of straight alignments set out roughly end to end.
Eventually the argument was neither lost nor won and researchers went their
own ways, either rejecting the idea of long-distance leys completely or
embracing them within the notions of Earth energies and sacred cosmic
landscapes. The latter interpretation reached its zenith in The Sun and the
Serpent, when the energy dowser Hamish Miller proposed two intertwining
energy lines that approximately followed the course of the supposedly straight St
Michael line. The idea proved hugely popular with audiences on both sides of
the Atlantic and has remained a bugbear to serious ley research ever since its
publication in 1989.
Richard Atkinson’s third objection to leys was that they incorporated sites
from widely differing eras, which cannot be shown archaeologically to be even
approximately contemporary. Watkins originally tackled similar objections by
asserting that early Christian churches were often built on the sites of previous
pagan shrines. But without excavation it is impossible to claim such a pedigree
for all ancient churches and chapels, and certainly not for those built in the
medieval period, all of which feature on his and other leys.
One of the first ley hunters to address the problem of mixed marker leys
directly was John Michell, whose book The Old Stones of Land’s End gave an
account of his careful study of the astronomical alignments at stone circles in
West Penwith, Cornwall, as suggested by the eminent astronomer and scientist
Sir Norman Lockyer in the early years of the 20th century. The Old Stones of
Land’s End showed for the first time a deliberately engineered pattern of aligned
standing stones, all of which had been erected at more or less the same time.
Furthermore, Michell undertook field work in addition to his map work and
discovered stones on the alignments that did not appear on the maps, adding
further weight to his contention that the alignments were deliberate and planned.
In several cases he also established that the stones in a particular alignment were
intervisible – a necessary fact in determining that the alignments had been set
out by eye on the ground and were not chance occurrences.
The accusation that his leys were the product of chance was the major
criticism voiced against Watkins. Take any map, said the critics, and you will be
able to find alignments of railway stations, pubs, telephone boxes or anything
else if you tried hard enough. Watkins’s criteria of at least four primary marker
points to confirm a ley wasn’t acceptable to the sceptics, and this wasn’t helped
by Watkins’s own enthusiasm for alignments that didn’t conform to his own
rules, many of which he published in The Old Straight Track and the later Ley
Hunters’ Manual. The burden of statistical proof fell to the ley hunters who set
about the task in the 1970s with some enthusiasm.
Several attempts at a mathematical analysis of leys had been made in the
1950s and 1960s, but it wasn’t until 1976 that Pat Gadsby and Chris Hutton-
Squire made their famous and impressive computer analysis of John Michell’s
Land’s End survey. Some of the alignments, they said, were better than chance
would predict, adding weight to the argument that they were deliberately
engineered. However, the analysis and Michell’s database were not without their
critics. On the surface Michell’s survey was very impressive, but detailed
analysis of his methods and the range of sites he included in his study revealed a
number of flaws in his claims. In particular Michell’s critics claimed that many
of the stones that he included in his alignments were not genuine prehistoric
standing stones but were natural boulders, gate posts or rubbing posts for cattle.
In 1983 the first scientifically considered criticism of the ley theory was
published. In Ley Lines in Question archaeologists Tom Williamson and Liz
Bellamy set about the task of disproving the claims of Watkins and his revivalist
followers. In a detailed and aggressive essay they addressed the traditional
criticisms of ley theory and attempted to demolish the rather confused
environment of much of the Earth Mysteries literature published at that time.
Ley Lines in Question was a damning indictment, and although Paul Devereux,
then editor of The Ley Hunter, put up a vigorous defence and found prejudicial
flaws in Williamson’s and Bellamy’s argument, many of his contemporaries
preferred not to tackle the issues raised in the book and simply met it with stony-
faced silence.
Robert Forrest and Michael Behrend, who defined the techniques for map
analysis of alignments, have done by far the best statistical work on leys. It was
Forrest who demonstrated that Watkins’s original criterion of four points in a
row being confirmation of a true ley was statistically not significant. A simulated
ley hunt on a 1:500,000 Ordnance Survey map found hundreds of three-point
alignments, less than a hundred four-point alignments, two five-point alignments
and no sixor seven-pointers. Determined to make or break the case one way or
the other, Forrest was asked by ley hunters Paul Devereux and Nigel Pennick to
test his methodology on a selected number of leys that had been found and
surveyed in the manner set down by Watkins. The results were inconclusive, the
leys coming out equally split between deliberate and chance alignments.
In Ley Lines in Question, Williamson and Bellamy claimed a victory. Leys,
they said, were simply the result of random chance alignments. Not everyone is
convinced by their argument, but while they didn’t destroy the ley idea
completely, they certainly made serious ley hunters take a close look at their
methods and forced them into more accurate and thoughtful map and field work.
It also prompted a reassessment of the whole ley idea. From Watkins’s simple
observations in the field, ley hunting had developed into two distinct camps – the
energy line dowsers and the statistical ley hunters. However, a third way was
already emerging.
SPIRIT LINES
become a learned and priestly class through the practice of their craft; perhaps
they were also bards, astronomers and soothsayers, accredited with magical
capabilities.
In 1922, the year of publication, Watkins was already 66 years old, and in his
‘Endword’ to the book he expressed the hope that he was to repeat often over the
remaining 12 years of his life: that others would carry on what he had started.
Early British Trackways was fundamentally a work in progress. In places it
betrays signs of impatience, as if its over-enthusiastic author was trying to get
the short manuscript finished as quickly as possible so that he could return to his
field research. One can imagine Watkins breathing a heavy sigh of relief when
the manuscript was published. Some of the arguments leading to the conclusions
are uncharacteristically over-presumptive; Watkins corrected this in his next
book and also observed that Early British Trackways was a ‘somewhat
breathless production with many constructional faults and a few crude
speculations on place names’. Nevertheless, he had placed the first marker, and
this allowed him to take stock and work on improving the evidence, to go on to a
more considered and practical phase of work, and above all, to get back out into
the field. For him the subject manifested continuing revelations, and almost
every day he must have seen evidence that would have led him to refine and
improve many of the assumptions contained in his first work. He worked hard on
his discovery over the next four to five months, and this work became the basis
of The Old Straight Track,in which he expanded, expounded and encapsulated
the ley line discovery. He also quietly dropped some of the more imaginative
presumptions contained in Early British Trackways.
Watkins was no mystic; he was a man of extraordinary energy and
commitment, especially to the buildings and by-ways of his beloved Hereford.
Born into one of the wealthier local families, he spent much of his life assisting
with the family brewery and milling concerns, which occupied a fine site in the
centre of the town. His passion was photography, and he was a noted inventor of
photographic equipment, even creating a company to market the products he
designed. One of these, a lightmeter, was in general use by many photographers
and by the British Army until the mid1960s. He also served as a local councillor,
espoused the Liberal cause, and was an early and enthusiastic supporter of
women’s equality, successfully proposing that women be allowed to join the
Woolhope Club. But most of all he was a committed preservationist, and with
his camera took hundreds of pictures of his native town and its surroundings,
especially when and if he heard that any major building works or excavations
were being planned. He was frequently to be found at building sites,
methodically taking pictures of the scene, especially of trenches and holes dug
for the purpose of foundations, before they were sealed up, built upon, and, for
archaeological purposes, lost.
The Old Straight Track was published in 1925. It was a huge book, copiously
illustrated (often with Watkins’s own photographs) and painstakingly written
and referenced. ‘My main theme’, he stated in the Introduction, ‘is the alignment
across miles of country of a great number of objects, or sites of objects, of
prehistoric antiquity’.
Watkins began the book by concentrating on manmade mounds, which he
believed to be the most promising candidates for genuine sighting points.
Excavations that had been taking place in the previous two decades had revealed
that most of the mounds in Britain were preRoman. This was most welcome
news for Watkins, who took great pains to warn readers that his subject was not
the Roman occupation of Britain, still less Roman roads. Mounds also had the
advantage of remaining unaltered down through the ages, unlike the tracks that
often linked them. Mounds were also often found on or near a watershed or ridge
of hills, and presented obvious sighting points in the area around them. Many
were aligned. Watkins finishes the section on mounds by refining the discovery.
There is no doubt, he says, that these alignments are manmade. Many of
them stretch for long distances across country and the only way they could have
been laid out is by sighting from the top of the highest available hill hence the
occurrence of the natural peak in the alignment. The trained eye, he says, in the
unpolluted air of prehistory could have picked out a distant hill peak 60 miles
away and the many intermediate hill ridges in between. These later became the
sites for mounds and mark points along the sight lines.
Watkins then turned to mark stones. Mark stones then, as now, were often
used to depict a path or track, and any surviving lines of such stones would seem
to provide excellent evidence of an archaic path, as the stone rows on Dartmoor
and at Carnac in northern France clearly indicate. The loss of such stones since
the 1920s has been enormous, however, and many of the mark stones mentioned
in The Old Straight Track can no longer be located. Most have been destroyed or
moved during road-widening schemes, making the modern ley hunter’s task
particularly difficult.
Watkins also suggests that mark stones were planted near to sighting mounds
to indicate the direction of a ley, in other words to provide an indication of the
direction in which to make a sighting. They were also frequently put at the
crossing point of two leys, and are therefore sometimes to be found at present-
day crossroads, often in the form of a Christian or Celtic cross. Watkins cites the
example of the Yazor Ley as a ley involving mark stones (see Directory: Yazor
Ley). Particularly prominent stones were sometimes called ‘King Stones’, and
many were used as the meeting place for medieval open-air courts or local
debating places known as moots. There is no reason to suppose that such stones
had any less significance before these times.
The Old Straight Track also covered sighted tracks, water-sighting points,
mark trees (particularly the Scots Pine), and notches in hills. The sight notches
were of particular importance as they resolved the problem of how to stay
aligned from vale to hill. Watkins noted several of these near Llanthony Abbey
in the Black Mountains. He went on to investigate leys at hill forts and other
ancient camps, claiming that the tracks in question often preceded the camps; in
many cases the outline of the camp could be determined by reference to the
existing trackways.
Watkins always maintained that leys ran between what he called initial
sighting points, that is from one prominent hill to another. Sometimes they ran
from a holy well or standing stone to a hill or vice versa. All the markers
between these initial points would invariably be artificial and laid out by the
ancient surveyors. Watkins also found several examples of old straight
trackways running up the sides of hills or as hollow linear depressions across
unploughed meadows and orchards. Often the old trackways can be seen at
certain times of the year when variations in the vegetation show up as ghostly
shadows of a former path. Watkins was without the benefit of aerial photography
in his day, and many linear and other archaeological features have been
discovered by this method in recent decades. Among them are the cursus
monuments, which have been shown to contain numerous alignments to
prehistoric barrows, standing stones and ancient churches.
Again Watkins returned to the difficult issue of who laid out the tracks and
why they did so. In a series of revised conclusions about the ley men, he pointed
out that the planning and construction of the tracks was a highly skilled job,
needing a considerable number of workers who would have had to work under
expert direction. The directors of such mass labour would have been politically
significant people, constituting a distinct class set apart from the rest; place
names are forwarded as evidence, chiefly the names ‘Cole’, ‘Dod’, and ‘Black’.
‘Cole’ turns up in an unusually large number of place names in England, and
Watkins correctly challenges the reader to reflect on why there are so many
more farms called ‘Cole’, ‘Coleman’ or ‘Coleshill’ than ‘Jones’, ‘Smith’ or
‘Williams’. Watkins’s conclusion is that the ‘Coleman’ directed the construction
of leys, often tended the beacon fire, and may even have provided the origin of
‘Old King Cole’ as described in the nursery rhyme. Similarly, the ‘Dodman’ was
the surveyor who used a pair of sighting sticks as a basic theodolite for the
sighting of the leys. Watkins quotes an archaic meaning for ‘dod’ as a ‘stalk,
staff, or club’ (New English Dictionary). The Dodman, said Watkins, is best
represented by the Long Man of Wilmington, at which site there is a particularly
good example of a ley line (see Directory: Wilmington Ley). The word ‘Black’
also intrigued Watkins, and he showed that the name occurs on leys and ancient
trackways. It is described by the New English Dictionary as a ‘word of difficult
history’ also associated with ‘shining, white or pale’, explaining the derivation
of words such as ‘bleach’ and ‘bleak’. Revising the opinion he gave in Early
British Trackways that the word ‘Black’ denoted the iron worker or charcoal
carrier, Watkins re-ascribed the word to the person who minded the beacon lit on
hilltops to mark the ley.
The prehistoric purpose of a beacon fire was to act as a guide; its extensive
use as a warning symbol was a medieval application. Watkins believed that its
first use was to fix the point of seasonal sunrise as a basis for creating a ley. In
planning a track, the beacon was used as a basis for sighting points, and ‘beacon
hills’ are frequently found at the beginning of leys. A beacon fire on a lofty hill
could be seen from all around. Watkins’s research suggested that the actual leys
sighted from a beacon often crossed a stream or pond because the fire of the
beacon could be seen reflected in the water in the precise line of the ley. Watkins
knew this imaginative finding to be controversial, but stressed that excellent
evidence exists for it. He found the word ‘Flash’ in the place names of such
stretches of water aligned on leys, and pointed to the literary evidence of Kipling
and Bunyan, who both refer repeatedly to roads leading direct from a beacon to a
ford.
Despite the accumulation of a vast body of evidence – archaeological, factual
and anecdotal – and his meticulous attention to detail, The Old Straight Track
was universally ignored or derided by the archaeological establishment of the
time, a situation which still persists to this day. In the 1920s, the accepted view
of prehistoric Britons was that they were ignorant woad-painted savages to
whom the precise science of land surveying would have been unthinkable. It
would be 30 years before Professor Gerald Hawkins analysed the stone
alignments at Stonehenge and proposed that it was a sophisticated astronomical
observatory; before Professor Alexander Thom accurately surveyed prehistoric
stone circles from the Outer Hebrides to Brittany and proposed that they were
laid out to precise geometric patterns using a consistent unit of measurement, the
megalithic yard; and before radiocarbon dating pushed back the construction
dates of prehistoric monuments in Britain to centuries before the building of the
Egyptian pyramids. From that moment the established archaeological view of
prehistory was turned on its head. Had he lived to see it Watkins would have felt
vindicated. In the stuffy 1920s, however, any suggestion that ancient Britons
were capable of anything other than subsistence living was met by
archaeologists with accusations of heresy. Thus it was that O. G. S. Crawford,
then the editor of the respected Antiquity journal, refused to carry a paid
advertisement for The Old Straight Track when it was published, and did not
review the book either.
That such an idea could have surfaced in Edwardian England is a testament
to Watkins himself. A tireless and constantly active man, he had, before his
‘revelation’, given numerous scholarly papers to the Woolhope Club and
published books and pamphlets on subjects as diverse as pigeon houses,
Herefordshire place names, architectural history and archaeology, old
Herefordshire crosses and bee-keeping, as well as photographing and
cataloguing the minutiae of Herefordshire country life.
From this detailed and diverse knowledge came the self-confidence and
conviction for Watkins to propose a revolutionary theory about the activities of
prehistoric people. He saw life in his slow-paced surrounding landscape as a
continuum, and believed that the way of life of country people in his day,
unchanged for generations, was directly descended from the activities of ancient
country people. In The Old Straight Track he says: ‘The wayfarer’s instructions
are still deeply rooted in the peasant mind today, when he tells you – quite
wrongly now – ‘‘You just keep straight on’’.’ Secure in his beliefs, he had no
intellectual difficulty in proposing his ley hypothesis to an archaeological
establishment whose concerns were far removed from first-hand and intimate
experience of a landscape, its traditions and its people.
Flying in the face of established belief and ‘unhampered by other theories’ as
he put it, Watkins set about the task of overturning the accepted view of
prehistory with a commitment and attention to detail that characterised all other
aspects of his working life. That he was to be proved right, in spirit if not in fact,
is a testament to his vision.
Watkins’s memory is preserved in Hereford where his reputation was never
sullied by the poor reception from the archaeological establishment. He was a
prominent businessman; an amateur archaeologist of repute who provided much
of the basic framework for archaeological research in Herefordshire in the
following decades; a photographic innovator and inventor and a leader of public
opinion in Hereford. His great achievement, the discovery of leys, may have
been flawed on several levels, but he nevertheless recorded invaluable
information from a landscape that is now lost to us and his work contains clues
which, as we shall see, may lead to a better understanding of ancient alignment
practices and our relationship, and that of prehistoric man, with the landscape. In
his own words: ‘Out of the soil we wrench a new knowledge of old, old human
skill and effort, that came to the making of this England of ours.’
ASTRONOMICAL ALIGNMENTS
To Alfred Watkins ley lines were only ever prehistoric trackways; even
when he started to unearth leys that couldn’t possibly have been tracks he
continued to fit the findings to his original theory. Members of the Straight
Track Club, however, began to realise that there was more to the profusion of
landscape alignments than could be explained away by the old straight track
theory.
One aspect of Watkins’s alignments that has since developed into a
discipline of its own is that of ancient astronomy. In The Old Straight Track,
Watkins included a chapter entitled ‘Sun Alignment’ in which he argued that
some ley lines may have been determined with reference to the rising sun on
specific days of the year. He says: ‘ . . . it has become plain that the
topographical sites used for sun alignment and those for the ley are in some
cases identical.’ A promising place to look for astronomical alignments of this
type is Stonehenge, and this is where Watkins first turned his attention, having
been alerted to the possibility of an astronomical connection after reading the
works of the eminent astronomer Sir Norman Lockyer.
Stonehenge is probably the most famous megalithic monument in the world;
its form of construction is unique, its stones the biggest of any other circle in
Britain. Another celebrated feature is the approximate alignment of the centre of
the circle of stones, the outlying Heel Stone and earthen Avenue with the
summer solstice sunrise. Though the astronomical aspects of Stonehenge were
dramatically brought to public attention in 1963 by the astronomer Professor
Gerald Hawkins it had always been a tradition amongst the people of nearby
Amesbury to gather at the stones before dawn on Midsummer’s Day to watch
the sun rise over the Heel Stone. This particular ritual was later adopted by
modern druid revivalists until the public disorder and subsequent police presence
at the site in the 1980s put a stop to this regular spectacle. In recent years the
Druids have been allowed back to Stonehenge on the summer solstice, although
the general public is still excluded.
In 1740 the antiquary William Stukeley was the first to record that the axis of
Stonehenge and the Avenue leading away from it point to the north-east,
‘whereabouts the sun rises when the days are longest’. He also noted, by way of
an illustration, that this line was marked on the horizon by an artificial mound on
Haradon Hill (see Directory: A Sunrise Line). Other antiquaries followed,
notably Dr John Smith, in 1770, whose observations at Stonehenge led him to
suggest that the whole area around the monument was laid out as an elaborate
calendar system incorporating outlying barrows and representing a vast
planetarium. In 1846 the Reverend E. Duke, in Druidical Temples of Wiltshire,
suggested that most of the county once consisted of a huge model of the solar
system based around a meridian line 32 miles long centred on Silbury Hill and
that ancient monuments on circles drawn around Silbury were related to one
another as planets around the sun.
By the 1890s the astronomical interpretation of ancient monuments began to
take on a greater scientific aspect. Sir Norman Lockyer – astronomer, scientist,
and founder and editor of the distinguished scientific journal Nature – began
investigating the temples of ancient Egypt to test a hypothesis that they were
deliberately constructed to point towards the rising and setting of the heavenly
bodies at particular times of the year. He found, for example, that the temple of
Amen-Ra at Karnak has its main axis directed to sunset at the summer solstice.
With the knowledge that the rising and setting points of the sun in a particular
location change regularly over a period of time, he attempted to date the temple
by calculating how far off a true orientation the temple was in his day from what
would have been the true orientation at the time the temple was constructed.
In 1901 Lockyer turned his attention to Stonehenge and attempted to date the
monument by the same means. However, where Amen-Ra had an axial
passageway 500 yards long giving an accurate alignment, Stonehenge was in a
ruinous condition, the stones from which a true axis might have been established
having been moved or disturbed. The approximate azimuth he eventually
defined for the monument followed the Avenue north-east to an Ordnance
Survey bench mark on Sidbury Hill. In the opposite direction the line passed
over Grovely Castle hill fort six miles away and then on to Castle Ditches hill
fort a further seven-and-a-half miles south-west. In 1906 Lockyer published
Stonehenge and other British Stone Monuments Astronomically Considered
which gave further evidence of geographical relationships between ancient
monuments, most of which he concluded were of astronomical significance.
In 1894 Magnus Spence, an Orcadian schoolmaster, wrote an article in the
Scottish Review outlining his observations on the remarkable group of
antiquities on mainland Orkney, centred on the massive Neolithic chambered
mound of Maes Howe. Other sites in the vicinity include the vast henge and
stone circle of the Ring of Brodgar, the ruined henge and stone circle of the
Stones of Stenness, and a scatter of tall single standing stones arranged in a
pattern of alignments which can still be seen on the ground today. A principal
alignment in this group of monuments runs along the passage of Maes Howe
through the entrance to a single standing stone, the Barn Stone, one field away.
This line points to the horizon where the midwinter sun sets. The rays of the
setting sun penetrate the passage and illuminate the elaborate corbelled chamber
of the mound (see Directory: Orcadian Leys). Spence claimed that additional
alignments within the group of monuments pointed to other significant
astronomical events. Lockyer reviewed and endorsed Spence’s work, though he
suggested different interpretations of his alignments.
Between writing Early British Trackways and The Old Straight Track,
Watkins had read Norman Lockyer’s Stonehenge, and this prompted him to
research further the relationship between his leys and astronomical alignments.
Lockyer’s work showed convincingly for the first time that certain alignments
through the centre of Stonehenge had been arranged to point towards the
moment of sunrise or sunset on particular days of the year. Watkins lost no time
in revisiting Stonehenge to follow up what Lockyer had not then fully developed
– the evidence of other mark points for the alignments so described. Watkins
found good evidence for four such alignments and describes these in detail in
The Old Straight Track. One in particular has become probably the most famous
ley line in England. First noted by Lockyer but not followed up (probably due to
the fact that it had no astronomical significance) was the alignment of
Stonehenge, Old Sarum, Salisbury Cathedral and Clearbury Ring (see Directory:
Old Sarum Ley). Satisfied, Watkins summed up the results of his further
research thus:
‘1. That the sunrise alignments of Lockyer are identical with long distance
leys;
2. That Stonehenge is at the crossing of several leys, and that it is far more
probable that two of these were pre-existing and decided the site, than that
Stonehenge was the primary fact . . .
3. Several of the alignments have beacon points on them.’
More corroboration was to come: in 1923 the journal Archaeologia published
a paper by Admiral Boyle Somerville showing that several stone rows, circles
and dolmens in the Hebrides and Ireland have an orientation over certain stones
precisely calculated to sunrise and sunset on the quarter days and half-quarter
days. Such alignments, Somerville found, also continued in straight lines to
marks, notches, cairns or earthworks on or near hilltops several miles away.
Watkins was evidently delighted by this discovery, and Somerville later became
a trusted friend and colleague in the Straight Track Club until his death at the
hands of Irish nationalists in the 1930s. Watkins, ever careful, was particularly
pleased with evidence that suggested a utilitarian rather than a mystical motive:
‘The material facts indicate gigantic sundials in ceremonial use. But most
certainly for utilitarian – that is, season fixing – purpose.’
Admiral Boyle Somerville’s 1909 drawing of the astronomical alignments through Drumbeg stone circle,
County Cork, Ireland.
However, this was not the only possible explanation for these astronomical
alignments and Somerville quickly concluded that other motives were at play.
The Admiral was a particularly energetic and perceptive contributor to the
Straight Track Club Portfolios, frequently reverting to his favourite subject of
astronomy and straight tracks. One of his discoveries was the sunrise line of
orientation built into the massive banked stone circle of Rannach Croim Duibh,
near Lough Gur in County Limerick, Ireland. Later, the geographer and geomant
Michael Dames would extend this line to include sites intimately connected with
the folklore and mythology of the area (see Directory: Two Irish Leys).
In a paper entitled ‘Orientation’, Somerville made a perceptive observation.
There was, he concluded, a forgotten connection between orientation and burial.
He suggested a hilltop barrow that contained the burial of an important
individual might be found to be aligned with a nearby stone circle, erected in
connection with the barrow, that also aligned to a sunrise or sunset position on
the horizon. He had found several examples of this practice in his researches. He
suggested that it was not inconceivable that such a line of orientation might have
become a trackway, firstly as a pilgrim route from the circle to the honoured
grave and then later to have been extended in the same direction towards some
point beyond the barrow.
This apparent connection between death and orientation (and indeed the
straight line) would come to dominate later ideas on the astronomical aspects of
ancient sites, as well as the interpretation of many ley lines.
Watkins considered other sites beside Stonehenge in an attempt to find a
common link between his leys and the rising and setting points of the sun, but it
seems the lunar alignment aspects of ancient astronomy were too complex for
his analysis. He described how his interest in sunrise alignments was first tested
at the Giant’s Cave in the Malvern Hills, Worcestershire. The cave lies at the top
of the Herefordshire side of the ridge near the Herefordshire Beacon; below the
cave is an unhewn boulder, a boundary stone, known traditionally as the Shew
Stone or, more romantically, the Sacrificial Stone. Previous observation by
others has led to the conclusion that on Midsummer’s Day the sun rising over the
ridge falls on the stone, and this event was interpreted as the time when the
supposed ‘sacrifice’ used to take place. Prompted by this Watkins attempted to
plot the line between the stone and the cave on the map to see if the alignment
‘might have been also used as a ley’. After some investigation he found that the
line passed through the Gospel Oak, Woolhope church, several sections of road,
Holme Lacey church, Aconbury church and on to the highest point of Aconbury
Camp. Moreover, the angle of the ley, determined by the sunrise at the stone, is
reflected in the orientation of the axes of both Woolhope and Holme Lacey
churches. Inspired by this discovery Watkins searched elsewhere, applying his
enthusiasm for place names to other sites with possible sunrise alignments,
noting Midsummer Hill, May Hill, Sun Rising Hill and so on, and applying
azimuth angles for significant sunrise positions on a flat map.
The calculation of the position of sunrise (or sunset) on the horizon in a
particular place is not straightforward. Enthusiastic members of the Straight
Track Club would simply apply standard azimuth angles to the map in an
attempt to find sites that lined up along them. The azimuth of sunrise, however,
is dependent upon the latitude of the site, the elevation of the site and the
elevation of the horizon. Each will affect the actual position of sunrise from any
single place of observation. Furthermore, Admiral Boyle Somerville warned
against long-distance astronomical alignments. The longer these are, he said, the
less likely they are to be accurate. The natural curvature of the Earth and the
changes in topography would throw the alignment completely off course as one
travelled along the alignment, while any shift in the observer’s elevation would
change the position of sunrise despite the angle of the ley. The only true sunrise
alignment could be seen from the primary observation point and its foresights.
This complication didn’t bother the more enthusiastic of Watkins’s followers,
who continued to suggest short-and long-distance sunrise alignments with little
reference to the topography, thus exposing one of the dangers of map ley
hunting.
Lockyer and his contemporaries met with stern opposition from the
archaeological establishment of the day. In a similar manner to that in which
Watkins and his ideas were to be shunned and dismissed 20 years later,
Lockyer’s ideas were resisted because they were at odds with the accepted
historical view of ancient Britons. Prehistoric people were considered to be
capable only of subsistence living, and certainly incapable of the intellectual
thought processes necessary to observe, record and mark the complex
movements of the sun and moon. Archaeologists were not astronomers, and their
lack of understanding of those scientific principles also added to their mistrust
and opposition to Lockyer and his followers. This situation was to persist (and in
some ways still does, though for slightly different reasons) until the 1960s,
The sun and moon sightings from Stonehenge, based on an original diagram by Gerald Hawkins.
when Stonehenge again became the battleground between archaeologists and
astronomers.
When Professor Gerald Hawkins published a paper in Nature describing how
he had calculated several significant astronomical alignments between various
stones at Stonehenge, it triggered a wave of popular interest in the enigmatic
monument and archaeologists were forced to answer the questions posed by this
remarkable discovery, questions they hoped had died with Lockyer. Hawkins’s
hypothesis suggests that the builders of Stonehenge had been involved in
detailed observations of the heavens and that the monument was a result of these
scientific investigations, recording the alignments for posterity in immovable
stone. Perhaps Stonehenge was a calendrical device for fixing certain dates in
the year for agricultural or religious purposes.
A few years later Hawkins’s ideas were taken further by the engineer and
mathematician Alexander Thom, whose meticulous surveys of stone circles and
stone rows throughout Britain and Brittany led him to conclude that the megalith
builders were sophisticated astronomers engaged in a detailed study of the
heavenly bodies and their relative movements. These movements were
incorporated into their stone monuments over a long period of observation.
Any doubt that Neolithic people were capable of observing the heavens over
many years, noting the apparent regular movement of sunrises on the horizon,
and constructing technically brilliant megalithic buildings in which to record
such knowledge, was dispelled when the vast chambered mound of Newgrange,
County Meath, Ireland, was excavated in the 1960s. Traditional stories referred
to the mound as Bru´ na Bo´inne (Mansion of the Boyne), the home of Mac in
Dagda (Son of the Good God), one of the Tuatha De Danann, a supposedly
magical race of gods. Local folklore that has persisted to modern times claimed
that one particular sunrise entered the chamber at Newgrange, though no-one
fully understood what that meant until the excavations of the 1960s.
The excavations revealed an unusual architectural feature, a slot about a foot
high immediately above the entrance to the long passageway that leads to a
transepted chamber. This slot is known as the roof box and it transpires that on
the morning of midwinter solstice the rays of the rising sun penetrate the centre
of the mound through this precisely located slot. This feat of engineering is all
the more amazing for the fact that the mound lies on sloping ground and the
passage is inclined upwards. The builders had calculated the downward angle of
the rays of the sun from the higher horizon on the other side of the river and
positioned the roof box to align between the sun and the back of the rear
chamber. In addition, one of the huge standing stones of the circle that rings the
mound falls on the alignment, as does the famous decorated kerb stone
immediately in front of the entrance, a stone that marks the precise alignment
with a carefully defined vertical groove cut into its front face. The sun’s rays do
not enter the passageway directly through the entrance. On plan the passage,
though not straight, follows the alignment (see Directory: Boyne Valley Leys).
Newgrange is the oldest sacred building in Europe (erected in 3300 ), and BC
although it may once have held cremated human remains it was almost certainly
a temple and a building of great symbolic significance. It also suggests an
ancient belief in the connection between death and the sun. It has been observed
that Newgrange could not have been constructed as an observatory as the
alignment is too inaccurate to provide any useful calendrical information.
Furthermore, it seems unlikely that the spectacle of the midwinter sun
illuminating an otherwise dark chamber was designed to be watched by the
living. The roof box had been designed to allow the sunlight to penetrate to the
centre of the mound even when the passageway was blocked off; the sun’s rays
were intended for the dead alone. I might even speculate here that Newgrange
was designed to allow the spirits of the dead interred there to travel out and
return to the mound on the rays of the sun at the instant the light penetrated the
chamber. This solar (and sometimes lunar) alignment feature is common to
many passage mounds in western Europe, despite variations in the construction
dates and architecture of individual buildings. The connection between spirit
flight and alignments will be discussed in later chapters.
Arguments continued, and Hawkins, John Wood, Euan McKie and others
have largely been abandoned through lack of conclusive evidence in favour of a
looser interpretation. The deliberate alignments built into many ancient
monuments were not particularly precise. It seems that accuracy was not the
prime motivation; these alignments were of more symbolic importance, and
were almost certainly connected with rituals involving dead ancestors, rituals of
veneration, communication and fear.
It has been observed that astronomical alignments built into a stone circle or
chambered mound were sometimes enhanced by the construction of earthen
banks or rows of standing stones, outlying monoliths, horizon markers such as
artificial mounds (see Directory: Rhondda Cairns Ley) and notches cut into
distant hills. And here we can see examples of alignments that fit the Watkins
model of leys. Perhaps, as Admiral Boyle Somerville surmised, these alignments
developed into processional or symbolic trackways. Not all Watkins’s leys can
be explained by astronomy, however. That is simply another piece of the
immensely complex puzzle that is the phenomenon of ley lines.
about the nature of
the scientific theories prehistoric astronomy have of Alexander Thom, Gerald
CHAPTER 4
The popular definition of a ley line has been unequivocal – it is a vein in the
Earth along which runs a form of ‘energy’. That these lines run between ancient
and sacred sites throughout Britain, the standing stones, stone circles and burial
mounds, seems to reinforce this notion; if the leys carry the energy, then the
stones and burial chambers punctuate them and act as places of power along the
network of lines. It is not difficult to understand how this idea was subsequently
applied to crop circles when they began to appear with increasing regularity
close to ancient sacred sites such as Stonehenge, Silbury Hill and Avebury in the
late 1980s. If there is some kind of power evident at these places, then can we
experience, can we see, feel and gain understanding from it?
In the 1960s society was changing rapidly; the sexual and cultural
revolutions were in full swing, and mankind was riding the crest of a progressive
wave. People were not only looking to the future, however, there was also a
revival of interest in the past. New-found technology and achievements enabled
a re-evaluation of historical culture and people looked at old stones with new
eyes. ‘Earth Mysteries’ was coined as a catch-all phrase to describe the subject
area of ancient sites and all they afford, including the craze for the UFO whose
proponents had proclaimed mystical links with the old stones.
FOLK MEMORY
Mass speculation was not easy in Watkins’s day, but from the 1960s mass
media and communications were much mote accessible and influential.
Imaginative ideas about the ancient past proliferated and the belief prevailed that
ancient man had been a practitioner of some sort of sacred, cosmic engineering,
in touch with the Earth, and had perhaps known how to harness a natural power.
Had sacred sites even enabled the ancients to communicate with other beings? If
there was a latent power or energy in the Earth and our ancestors had the ability
to detect and utilise it, then a memory of this might have survived in the folk
mind. The examination of folklore records in this new context was beginning to
yield tantalising evidence.
By far the best known studies of folk traditions in the context of Earth
Mysteries studies were undertaken by the husband and wife team of
photographers, Janet and Colin Bord. In their books Mysterious Britain, The
Secret Country and Earth Rites, they wedded imaginative speculation to
evocative photography to produce an attractive alternative view of our
prehistory.
The effect of these books and others that followed was widespread. Visit the
great stone circle complex at Avebury any day and you will see people laying
their hands on the stones or leaning against them with their heads resting on the
sarsens. Pop over to the Henge shop and buy yourself a set of dowsing rods, take
them over to the stones to join the many who walk around with them, and
experience that excitement and wonder when the rods twitch or cross. Many of
those who have a fascination with these sites have at some time tried this for
themselves and experienced a reaction from dowsing rods. But it is not only
since the 1970s that people have nurtured a belief that these sites hold some kind
of unexplained power or magic.
Folklore testifies that people believed that ancient standing stones had the
power to heal a variety of ailments or aid fertility or virility. It was also widely
believed that far from being inanimate objects, the stones could come to life, and
were often fabled to walk down to streams to drink, or to take a constitutional
around the field in which they stood. Many traditions are attached to stones
which testify to their power when correctly invoked and applied.
Until recent times the old stones have been treated with respect and
veneration by the people who live near them. In the 19th century the villagers of
Thoresby, Leicestershire, used to hold an annual fair near the church in a field
where a large bluestone once stood, and games were played around the stone. At
Durrington, Wiltshire, a fair was held at the Cross Stones on Old May Day (13
May), and villagers would dance around the stones to musical accompaniment
and afterwards feast on cakes and ale. At Fortinghall, Tayside, on 31 October
(the Eve
An 18th century water diviner using the classic forked hazel rod.
of the Celtic New Year), a bonfire of furze was built on the Bronze Age
barrow known as the Mound of the Dead. And on the first day of the New Year
people would gather at a ten-foot monolith on North Ronaldshay in the Orkneys,
where they sang and danced together.
A complex fertility tradition can be found in the frequent legends regarding
mysterious cows that give endless supplies of milk. A celebrated tale is that of
the White Cow of Mitchell’s Fold stone circle in Shropshire. In times of famine
this white cow could be found at the stone circle at the beginning and end of
each day ready for milking. She allowed each person a pailful, but if anyone
tried to take more it was vowed that she would never return, a threat that came
true when a witch milked the cow into a sieve and consequently milked her dry.
The witch was punished by being turned into what is now the tallest stone in the
circle.
Many other traditions link stones with fertility and childbirth. On the Isle of
Man, a well associated with a standing stone was considered capable of
promoting fertility in women. A bride-to-be would fill her mouth with water
from the well and walk three times around the stone at daybreak, in a sunwise
direction, before swallowing the water. A large erect stone near Doagh, County
Antrim in Ireland, is perforated by a small hole, and it is the local custom for
marriages to be ratified by the couple clasping hands through the hole in a
ceremony known as handfasting.
Certain stones were credited with the power to cure barrenness, whilst others
ensured easy childbirth. Barren women at Dingwall, Ross and Cromarty, would
sit upon a stone three miles away at Brahan Wood, and in Brittany, easy
childbirth was believed to result from sliding down menhirs after smearing them
with butter or honey.
Until the early years of the 20th century libations were poured into manmade
cup-markings and natural hollows in stones. On the island of Westray in the
Orkneys, milk was poured into a hole in the centre of one of two burial mounds
known as Wilkie’s Knolls. Tradition held that if the locals failed to do this
Wilkie would send pestilence upon the cattle. The power of standing stones,
when it was invoked, was also believed to cause crops and cattle to flourish, and
Respryn Cross at St Winnow in Cornwall was visited every year, and soil dug
from the ground around it and thrown over the top of the stone to ensure a good
crop.
People also used to resort to ancient standing stones for healing purposes,
and these traditions can be found all over Britain. Rheumatic illnesses could be
prevented or cured by crawling through the holed stone of the Men-an-Tol group
in Cornwall. The powers of other stones could be transferred to the patient
through direct physical contact. By sitting in a seat formed in Canna’s Stone in
Dyfed, a person could be cured of the ague; the best method was to sleep on the
stone after drinking the waters of the nearby well. The Long Stone at
Minchinhampton in Gloucestershire has a hole through it and it is said that
children or babies used to be passed through to cure them of rickets. Probably
the most well-known legend of the healing properties of ancient stones is that of
the Stonehenge megaliths, as recounted by Geoffrey of Monmouth in his History
of the Kings of Britain. In the legends he cites the stones as being ‘of medicinal
virtue’; by washing the stones and placing the sick in the waters their illnesses
would invariably be cured. ‘There is not a stone there’, he wrote, ‘which has not
some healing virtue’.
Other traditions and stories describe standing stones that turn in their holes or
move at certain times of the day or year. The Waterstone at Wrington will dance
when the full moon falls on Midsummer’s Day; the Nine Stones on Belstone
Common, Devon, dance daily at noon; the Wimblestone, near Shipham in
Dorset, was once seen dancing in the moonlight on a heap of gold; the Giant’s
Stone at Yetnasteen on Rousay in the Orkneys walks to a nearby loch for a drink
on New Year’s morning; the Wych Boulder at Wych, Lincolnshire, turns over
when the clock strikes twelve; the Colwall Stone, Worcestershire, does a
complete turn when the clock strikes midnight; and the Tingle Stone near
Avening in Gloucestershire runs around the field when it hears the clock strike
midnight. The stories are rife and can be found the length and breadth of the
country.
With the advent of Christianity, the stones were labelled ‘pagan’ and their
mythology turned from being benevolent to more malign; they were put there by
the Devil or they were petrified people, sinners who had disobeyed the Sabbath,
turned to stone for their disobedience. Church edicts were passed in France and
Spain between AD450–110, prohibiting visits to the stones for the cure of
diseases. Other, stones were ‘Christianised’ by carving their tops into crosses,
cutting crosses into their sides or by erecting crosses on top of them. In this way
the Church authorities hoped to win over the people who would still resort to the
traditional holy places.
Ancient stones have long been venerated, however, and even when
Christianity frowned upon such worship they were often tolerated out of a
grudging respect for local beliefs. Children were told that the fairies inhabited
such places; they were enchanted places that offered a gateway to the fairy
world. However, the Church had a different version: the Devil dwelt there.
Perhaps to instil a fear of the old ways the early Church began to equate the old
gods with the Devil, and tales were concocted linking the Devil with the old
sacred places. The Hurlers stone circles on Bodmin Moor, for example, were
said to be the stony remains of men who had dared to play the traditional
Cornish game of hurling on a Sunday; the stones of Tinkinswood chambered
long barrows in South Glamorgan are women dancers turned to stone. Another
famous tale of dancers being turned to stone is that from Stanton Drew,
Somerset. This complex of megaliths consists of three circles, two Avenues and
a cove, a grouping of three upright stones and a fallen capstone, all within sight
of the parish church. Known traditionally as The Weddings the stones are said to
be the petrified remains of a wedding party whose celebrations continued into
the Sabbath. A phantom piper (no doubt a metaphor for the Devil) continued to
play beyond midnight, and his playing was so hypnotic that the wedding guests
were unable to stop. The circles are said to represent the dancing guests and the
cove the petrified remains of the parson, bride and groom.
Layer upon layer of folklore has developed over the years and there are now
reported sightings of UFOs around such places, even alien abductions. The
contents of the stories are many and varied but a common strand runs through
them all – a notion that some sort of unexplained energy lies within ancient
stones. But has anyone ever tried to verify this? Has anyone ever managed to
measure and record this power or energy scientifically?
Oddly, very few serious attempts have been made to catalogue this
phenomenon. Some dowsers have claimed the ability to detect underground
forces at ancient sites such as standing stones and stone circles, and that forces
are also detectable within the stones themselves. Bill Lewis, a Welsh dowser of
impeccable credentials, was the first to discover dowsing effects rising and
falling within standing stones which he suggested were magnetic in nature. In
1976 he was party to an unusual experiment at a huge standing stone near
Crickhowell in South Wales, when, for the first time ever, an attempt was made
to measure the physical effects that dowsers had claimed existed at ancient sites.
John Taylor, a professor of mathematics at King’s College, London, and
Eduardo Balanovski, a physicist from Imperial College, utilised a gaussmeter, a
device for measuring the strength of the Earth’s magnetic field, to test Bill
Lewis’s findings. They were able to measure a definite magnetic anomaly on the
stone and the whole event was captured in Francis Hitching’s television
documentary Earth Magic.
Some years later, a retired BBC engineer, Charles Brooker, enthused by the
attempts of the Dragon Project to measure hidden energies at the Rollright stones
did some experiments of his own. Using sensitive magnetometers Brooker found
that the magnetic field intensity inside the circle of stones was significantly
lower than that measured outside. Concentric bands of varying magnetic
intensity inside the circle also seemed to echo the patterns that Tom Graves and
others had found by dowsing.
A diagram showing dowsing lines around the Cuckoo Stone, near Woodhenge, Wiltshire. The Cuckoo
Stone lies on the Stonehenge Cursus alignment.
The best attempt to investigate the belief in Earth energy at ancient sites was
set up in 1976. As discussed in chapter 1, the Dragon Project was named after
the traditional Chinese symbol for the Earth force or ch’i, and concentrated on
the Rollright stones in Oxfordshire. Under the leadership of project director Paul
Devereux, the aim of the Dragon Project was to detect, recognise and record this
energy.
To cover all the possibilities the project took three approaches. The project’s
scientific co-ordinator, Dr Don Robins, took some readings at the Rollright
circle using a conventional ultrasonic detector before the project commenced.
These readings proved of great interest as Robins was able to conclude that there
was a definite ultrasound anomaly focused on the outlying King Stone. A
curious pulsing noise was detected, and even stranger was that this pulsing
seemed to intensify just before and after the winter solstice, the shortest day of
the year. When eventually the pulsing could be converted to an audible noise it
was found that on a number of occasions the stones seemed to ‘sing’.
A diagram showing dowsing lines at the Rollright Stone Circle, Oxfordshire. For the first time ever,
tangible evidence had been found for the curious properties of the stones.
Another area of investigation was radioactivity research for which Geiger
counters were used to measure variations in the background radiation. This
background radiation is present all around us and comes from a range of sources
including the Earth itself, but this should not be mistaken for ‘Earth energy’. The
Geiger counters were able to detect higher than normal readings within the
circle, and in the road between the circle and the outlying King Stone.
The third area of monitoring was magnetism. Using sensitive magnetometers
it was found that the magnetic field intensity was significantly lower inside the
stone circle than outside. Further to this, significant magnetic anomalies were
detected at three of the stones within the Rollright circles, more tangible
evidence of unexplained energy at the stones. Another magnetic discovery made
during the Dragon Project was that certain stones at other stone circles were
found to be highly magnetic. In fact, they were so magnetic that the needle of a
compass could be made to turn around when held up to the stones. At Dyce
stone circle in Aberdeenshire, which overlooks Aberdeen airport, the needle of a
compass will turn 180 degrees when held against a certain part of the stone.
Interestingly, another stone circle in Aberdeenshire, Easter Aquorthies, also has
a magnetic stone and the ‘hot spot’ is at head height.
During its ten-year run, the Dragon Project turned its attention to other
ancient sites in search of anomalies. During 1983 and 1984 the Project teamed
up with the Association for the Scientific Study of Anomalous Phenomena
(ASSAP) to undertake the ‘Gaia Programme’, one-off snapshot Geiger-counter-
monitoring sessions at 30 sites all over the country. The same sessions were
carried out in tandem at nonsacred locations to give a control sample. Perhaps
the most interesting result of this series of monitoring sessions was the discovery
of lower than normal background readings. In Cornwall, where the incidence of
granite ensures higher than normal natural radioactivity, higher than normal
background readings were found in the underground chambers known as fogous.
This is to be expected, but at Stannon stone circle on Bodmin Moor, the local
Dragon Project volunteer was unable to obtain any reading at all from the circle,
despite changing the batteries in the Geiger counter. The same effect was
encountered at Duloe stone circle – another radiation ‘hole’ in the environment.
This effect was entirely reversed at the Merry Maidens, however, where the
readings in the circle were considerably higher than in the surrounding
environment.
All the anomalies recorded at the dozens of sites tested during the Dragon
Project were in known natural energies. The only exception was the unusual
light phenomenon encountered by two independent witnesses at sites that lay
close to geological faults, a type of energy effect almost unrecognised by
science. This effect and others like it would be investigated further by Paul
Devereux in the years ahead. The effect was coined ‘Earth lights’ by Devereux
and would eventually be proposed as a plausible explanation for many so-called
UFO sightings, and remake the strange connection between ancient sites, leys
and flying saucers.
THE PSYCHIC ANGLE
There was a rather less successful attempt at examining the fabled power of
ancient sites in 1986. On two occasions in October of that year, a selfstyled
witch and neo-pagan called Kevin Carlyon organised telepathy tests at the site of
the Long Man chalk hill figure on the South Downs in East Sussex. Carlyon
chose the site because he believed it to be on a ley line, which for him meant
‘lines of energy that are said to run across and through the land, which our
prehistoric forefathers were said to be able to sense, and marked with standing
stones, burial sites, hill figures etc’. It was hoped that if the Earth energy did
flow through the site it would intensify the minds of those acting as ‘senders’
within the figure. At nine o’clock one evening the senders in the figure began
psychically projecting their pictures and sounds. Other people, the ‘receivers’,
were situated at various places around the country, but some had gone to other
ancient sites including the Cerne Abbas giant and Avebury stone circle. Some
people had gone to two other points on the ley line, the church and the priory in
Wilmington below the Long Man, and there they waited to receive the images
being sent from the people in the figure. The results were not clear-cut. Despite
Kevin Carlyon’s best attempts at analysis there was no startling revelation; a
couple of people scored highly but the rest did not. Kevin Carlyon later went on
to perform weekly rituals on the Kent coast in an attempt to stop the Channel
Tunnel being built, with the same measure of success.
In 1993, paranormal investigator Andrew Collins set up Orgone 93, an
attempt to recreate, or ‘celebrate’ as Collins would have it, some of the work of
investigator Trevor James Constable, as described in his evangelistic tome, The
Cosmic Pulse of Life. Constable was a disciple of the maverick scientist
Wilhelm Reich and a believer in the existence of orgone – that strange and
elusive ‘life energy’ that Reich claimed to have discovered and isolated back in
the 1950s. Orgone, Reich believed, was a fundamental organising medium for
those energies recognised by science. However, science did not recognise orgone
and Reich was eventually discredited and imprisoned on tax evasion charges.
The concept of a life force is a persistent one and can be found throughout
history. Each culture has its own name for it, prana, ch’i or ki, wouivre, to name
but a few. Orgone was the latest in a long line of attempts to unify the various
workings of nature. Reich believed that UFOs were a manifestation of the bad
side of orgone, his so-called DOR, or ‘deadly orgone radiation’. Constable took
the UFO connection further and claimed that UFOs were constantly present in
the atmosphere as orgone energy and could, under the right circumstances, be
made to condense in the atmosphere and manifest themselves as UFOs. He
called his ephemeral organisms ‘critters’. He used psychic ritual to invoke the
appearance of a critter and Constable’s book is littered with photographs of
blobs, smears and unrecognisable shapes superimposed upon photographs of
otherwise empty, arid and featureless south-western American desert.
Inspired by Constable and the frenetic activity in the corn fields of Wiltshire
during the height of the crop circle phenomenon, Collins developed a theory that
crop circles were the result of the interaction of orgone energy with the
environment, that there was an intelligence behind it, and that critters were
regularly making their presence felt across the Marlborough Downs through the
medium of strange aerial phenomena, lights in the night sky and the flattening of
crops in patterns of increasing geometrical complexity. It was a short step to link
these events with the proximity and profusion of megalithic and other prehistoric
monuments in the area. Avebury henge, the largest stone circle in Britain, lay at
the epicentre of the crop circle phenomenon, while some of the earliest crop
formations had appeared in the field opposite Silbury Hill – the largest manmade
mound in Europe and still not fully understood by archaeologists.
Orgone 93 set out to test the relationship between orgone energy, crop
circles, earth lights, ritual landscapes and the human mind. Could Orgone 93,
with similar equipment and some of the same personnel as the Dragon Project,
achieve any better results? There was only one element in Orgone 93 that
distinguished it from the Dragon Project and that was the co-ordinated psychic
element, clearly inspired by current thinking about altered states of
consciousness, ancient sites and the effects of geophysical anomalies on the
brain. Sites chosen for the experiments included a hilltop site, a site near a water
source, Adam’s Grave, a Neolithic long barrow on the top of a hill, and a crop
circle formation which appeared during the project’s stay in Wiltshire. The
sessions involved a period of monitoring natural radiation, electric field strength,
radio frequency signals, an orgone accumulator (a device invented by Reich for
trapping and storing orgone energy), and normal light and infra-red photography.
The team was to attempt to create change in the environment through psychic
means and by manipulation of the immediate orgone environment through the
use of a cloud buster, a device consisting of a bundle of hollow metal pipes
devised originally by Reich to disperse DOR and UFOs. They hoped to measure
that change by responses on the monitoring equipment, and perhaps through
conscious, purposeful mental actions try to draw down some kind of anomalous
energy or phenomena that could be captured on film.
Despite the great promise of this series of experiments, very little evidence
of any substance was obtained. The control experiments were inadequate and
rendered the few interesting anomalies that were measured virtually
meaningless, while some of the photographs that were taken were later explained
away as technical faults. Perhaps the most telling result was the total lack of
anomalous effects measured at the crop circle site.
During the week of the Orgone 93 experiments, Doug Bower appeared at a
press conference at Marlborough, a few miles down the road, in which he
revealed for the first time the instruments with which he and Dave Chorley had
created the first crop circles in the late 1970s, setting the ball rolling for the
whole crop circle phenomenon that had resulted in Collins and his companions
setting up Orgone 93. Irony indeed.
The association of magnetism and sacred sites has been noted throughout the
world although, once again, little serious examination has ever been made. The
ability of birds and animals to detect magnetism is well documented; in a
manner of speaking, these creatures are using their own dowsing methods to
navigate when migrating and returning. Humans do not have this as a recognised
ability, but perhaps they once did and some may still retain it. If this is so, could
this explain the magnetic patch at head height at the Easter Aquorthies stone?
These magnetic stones may well have been chosen for their healing properties.
Natural radioactivity is not so easy to explain, however, and human beings have
no recognised ability for detecting such fluctuations.
Quite apart from the physical benefits derived from such hidden ‘power’, it
is apparent that such sites can be places of psychic discovery as well as of
healing. The sight of fairies, spirits, ghosts or even extraterrestrials at these sites
has been claimed time and time again, so the mind can be affected as well as the
body. Of course, this is not to suggest that everyone who visits a stone circle or
burial chamber will start seeing visions, but some people do seem particularly
susceptible – perhaps these are the people who have retained an ability that most
of us have now lost. Similarly, some people appear to have seen and experienced
ghosts, others not. It seems likely that people have variable faculties for some
kind of extra-sensory perception.
In the ancient past, the tribal priest or shaman would have been one such
physically gifted individual, and it was his role to commune with the spirits or
the ancestors in order to gain insight and guidance. What begins to emerge here
is how the concept of ‘spirit’ has been absorbed into the concept of ‘energy’ over
the years. Four thousand years ago people would have visited the stones and the
sacred places in the hope that their ancestors or spirits would help and guide
them because that was what they knew. It is easy to see how, in a mechanised
view of the world, and with current cultural assumptions, the rustic idea of
‘spirit’ has been replaced with the modern, hi-tech term ‘energy’, and that the
modern version of such rituals – prayer in church – has declined considerably.
No-one is entirely sure how ancient sites were used to communicate with the
spirits of dead ancestors, but the idea is widely accepted by archaeologists, and
what little archaeological evidence remains does point towards elaborate rituals
held at sacred sites presumably to aid the process. In particular, Neolithic
chambered long barrows seem to have been a focus for ritual and ceremonial
activity. It is now accepted that long barrows were not simply graves. The
material evidence shows that whole skeletons were rarely interred in the
chambers; the bones of the dead were brought to the long barrows long after the
bodies had been allowed to decompose elsewhere. Disarticulated bones were
collected and distributed amongst the chambers, while large bones such as
femurs were collected together, and similarly skulls and finger bones were sorted
into discrete piles. Other times they were completely jumbled up and it is almost
impossible to work out how many people’s remains were interred. The bones,
and the skulls in particular, were removed for ritual purposes and returned
afterwards; under the right state of consciousness it is possible to visualise the
tribal shaman or priest communicating with the disembodied head of one of the
ancestors, talking to the skull as if it was alive. It has even been suggested that
certain gifted individuals had the power of the oracle and could hear voices,
perhaps from the skulls of the dead, or from statues, carved heads or figurines.
Today, we would classify this as schizophrenia, a disability; in the past this
condition may have been prized in tribal communities.
The late 20th century saw a growing fascination amongst Western society for
the sacred places of the past; groups of largely white, wealthy Americans and
Europeans spend vast sums of money visiting the ancient sites of Britain, Ireland
and Brittany seeking spiritual guidance and contentment. These are sincere and
intelligent people who have a deep belief in a spiritual dimension, but who have
rejected traditional religion in favour of a quest for enlightenment in the power
of the Earth and its traditional beliefs. The group of twenty or so people I guided
around the ancient sites of the Cotswolds trooped into the cool, low chambers of
a long barrow known as Hetty Pegler’s Tump, near Dursley in Gloucestershire.
While in the chambers they meditated and chanted and emerged feeling
refreshed and recharged. They had undergone an affecting experience. If there is
a power in these old places it certainly seems to be working, even today.
ANCIENT SITES AND THE HUMAN MIND
Nowadays, stories of alien abductions, often at ancient sites, are taken very
seriously by many people. So what is behind these encounters with UFOs and
creatures from otherworlds? Are they too using this ‘power’?
In the 1960s the first link was made between ancient sites and UFOs. It was
supposed by some that these craft from outer space were utilising the power or
energy at ancient sites, and that they were even travelling along the ley lines. It
is possible that a version of this somewhat farflung proposition may in fact be
true.
There are several known facts about the unusual properties at ancient sites.
There are magnetic and radioactive anomalies, on the face of it mundane and
terrestrial effects. However, exposure to these two hidden powers or energies
can have an odd effect on the minds of some people. In the human brain there is
a small cone-shaped gland called the pineal gland. It has been suggested that this
gland, when exposed to changes in the Earth’s magnetic field, can cause shifts in
consciousness and time-slips. Similarly, when the brain is exposed to strong
electromagnetic fields, a form of epileptic attack can be triggered and various
symptoms can be experienced including hallucinations, seeing odd lights, a
feeling of being watched and of paralysis. The person who undergoes these
bizarre ‘attacks’ can be completely convinced that the events were entirely real
and physical. This may well account for some of the UFO visitation and
abduction stories.
The Dragon Project at the Rollright stones went on for ten years. As a
footnote to some of the findings it was decided that it might prove fruitful to set
up some further experiments into just how the unconscious mind is affected by
the anomalous effects found at ancient sites. Anthropological and folklore
evidence suggests that sleeping at particular locations could lead to altered states
of consciousness, of which the dreaming state is but one. To give a few
examples: the story of Jacob and his vision of a ladder reaching from earth to
heaven is well known; the fact that he used a rock as a pillow cannot be mere
coincidence. Similarly, legend has it that St Brynach would spend many nights
sleeping on the peak of Carn Ingli in the Preseli mountains in Pembrokeshire,
during which he would experience visions in which he communed with angels.
Carn Ingli is so magnetic that compass needles reverse on its summit. On the top
of a small hill at Lydney in Gloucestershire lie the remains of a Romano-British
dream incubation temple. Situated above huge iron ore deposits and
underground water sat a series of sleeping chambers; visitors would drink
copiously from the spring before sleeping and dreaming in one of the cells. In
the morning a therapeute would listen to them recounting their previous night’s
dreams and make predictions based upon them.
If the magnetic and radioactive energy can affect our brains and cause altered
states of consciousness, then tests during sleep might be appropriate. Volunteers
for the Dreamwork Programme slept out at various sites including Carn Ingli
peak in Pembrokeshire, Carn Euny fogou underground passage, Chun Quoit
dolmen and Madron Holy Well, all in Cornwall. The volunteers slept with a
companion who would wait for signs of rapid eye movement in the sleeper and
then wake them and ask for a detailed account of the dream. This would
continue throughout the night and each session would be recorded. The object of
the experiments was to see if there were any recurring themes or images that
were specific to these sites. The project ran for two years from 1994 to 1996, and
when all the data was collected it was sent to be analysed by Dr Stanley
Krippner, a leading investigator into dreaming and altered states of
consciousness, at the Saybrook Institute in the USA.
A report on the analysis of the findings was published in June 2003. Two
judges working blind and independently, evaluated each of the resulting 206
dream reports, using the Strauch Scale which contains criteria for identifying
‘bizarre,’ ‘magical,’ and ‘paranormal’ elements. The conclusions were
disappointingly inconclusive. However, data available at the time of publication
shows that different dreamers picked up similar dream themes at one of the four
selected sites, suggesting that transpersonal information may have been picked
up by the dreamers’ sleeping minds.
The past 20 years have seen thorough investigations into the question of
mysterious energies at ancient sites, so what exactly has been discovered? The
findings of the Dragon Project show that there are definite anomalies at certain
ancient sites – fluctuations in background radiation and in the magnetic field.
The ultrasound tests carried out at Rollright also show that something unusual
happens around the shortest day of the year, while the folklore record has
documented archaic beliefs in healing properties at the sites and a belief that
beings from other worlds could be encountered there. The findings of the
Dragon Project correspond with much that has been claimed about ancient sites,
from the detecting of energy effects to the cure of ailments and encounters with
the unearthly. However, what the Dragon Project did not find was evidence to
support the idea that there is some unrecognised or ‘cosmic’ energy present at
these sites. As a consequence of this some of the theories that had abounded
about the ability to dowse ley lines of energy at ancient sites have had to be
withdrawn for sheer lack of evidence.
The old sites are places of power; their magical quality still attracts people
who grapple with all the questions that they pose. Many people visit these
incredible places with preconceived ideas about cosmic forces, challenging them
with dowsing rods at dawn. But people – whether ley hunters or not – do not
have to detect unexplained energy with dowsing rods in order to experience the
sites fully. All they need are their eyes and ears; slowly and surely the stones
will give up their secrets to those determined to know them.
CHAPTER 5
The initial premise of ley lines – that they are the remnants of prehistoric
trackways – is often lost in the modern quest for a meaning behind straight lines
in the landscape. As every generation is supposed to get the Stonehenge it
deserves or desires, so it is with the ley line. Watkins’s old straight track was
dismissed by the academic world of his day as nonsense. The same arguments
have persisted to the present day, and although it is easy to find flaws in
Watkins’s claims, there are good reasons for thinking that he wasn’t entirely
wrong in his assertions; however, it wasn’t until 40 years after his death that new
evidence from around the world appeared to underpin his fundamental idea. In
this chapter we examine the evidence for the old straight track and come across
examples of straight routes connected with the culture, ritual and religion of the
living which lead us inevitably towards the uncovering of the straight tracks of
gods, spirits and the dead.
Alfred Watkins was a businessman. He set up a factory to manufacture his
famous ‘Bee’ photographic lightmeters. He spent a great deal of his working life
travelling and he knew all the roads, tracks, paths, short-cuts and long hauls
around Hereford. It is no surprise, therefore, that when asked to explain the
reason behind the system of ley lines, he initially interpreted them as trader’s
routes. Why else, he reasoned, would prehistoric people construct straight
trackways for miles across country if it wasn’t for some practical purpose,
namely for trade and commerce? After all, by the 1920s it was known that axe
factories and flint mines had existed in Stone Age times and that prehistoric
people had traded carved stone axes, flints and pottery between distant parts of
the country.
In such times there was plenty of travel but no roads, so Watkins assumed
that Neolithic commercial travellers must have used prominent sighting points
such as hills and mountains as a means of getting around. They would make a
beeline for a large or unusually shaped hill that they knew from experience was
in the general direction they wanted to take. At the top of the hill other sighting
points corresponding to the direction needed would then become clear. On route
they might perhaps leave a small stone at a high place or a ford across a river,
much as climbers do today. After many years these collections of stones could
have grown into fair-sized heaps and become familiar waymarkers. In later years
larger mounds of earth and stone which could be seen from a distance would
have been set up along the route and taller stones put up to mark the way
properly. Alternatively, notches would have been carved into the ridges of hills
by the passage of many pairs of feet treading the pathways up and over hills.
The members of the Straight Track Club often unearthed references to
straight tracks from other parts of the world in an attempt to provide
corroborative evidence for Watkins’s ideas. One particularly attractive reference
can be found in Portfolio 14, where W. H. McKaig refers to a letter published in
The Observer on 5 January 1930. The writer had described how she had lived for
many years in Ceylon and that the ‘aborigines’ had to travel long distances to the
salt pans. She noted that their tracks always ran perfectly straight through the
forest, were sighted on some distant hill and that the way was marked at
intervals by large stones similar to those found marking old tracks in Britain.
The sighting hill was referred to as a ‘salt hill’ and the mark stones as ‘salt
stones’ and she remarked on the similarity to Watkins’s salt tracks.
Was Watkins right about the ley line as a trade route? After all, such roads
don’t have to be straight. Admittedly, the quickest route between two places is a
straight line ‘as the crow flies’, and this might seem the obvious route to take,
but steep hills, deep and fast flowing rivers, cliffs and boggy lowlands would all
have presented great difficulties to the trader, laden with goods or encumbered
by cattle. Britain’s oldest known road, the prehistoric Ridgeway, is not
particularly straight. As its name implies, it follows the ridges of hills as it
snakes its way from the Thames at Streatley in Berkshire to the Wiltshire Downs
and beyond. The Ridgeway follows the high ground for very sensible reasons. It
would usually be dry in winter (unlike the marshy valleys) and its height above
the surrounding country side would give the traveller a good view of where he
was going and how far he had come, as well as providing improved security
against unexpected attacks. The Ridgeway is but one of a network of ancient
trackways that once connected the whole of the country; none of them are dead
straight.
Other later roads were not straight either, for example the old drove roads
which were used to transport livestock from one side of the country to the other.
In nature, animals do not tend to take the straight path, and many early tracks
would certainly have evolved from animal tracks at a time when hunting
provided the primary source of food. The green roads of England were also
seldom straight, following as they did the natural contours of the landscape.
People either walked or rode on horseback so roads did not have to be wide, and
the matter of straightness or steepness was of little importance. Steep gradients
and boggy ground would naturally be avoided, but much travel would have been
in a straight line on the level and when it was dry underfoot. The winding road
was probably the result of the introduction of wheeled vehicles in historic times.
Watkins was well aware of the old ridgeways and green roads of England
and he later modified his theory to account for the wandering nature of ancient
roads. He approved of G. K. Chesterton’s famous verse about the ‘reeling road’.
Although the track may have meandered and diverted to cross rivers and to
avoid steep inclines, he said, the mark points along the route would be laid out in
a straight line so that the track would always return from its wandering course to
the next point along the line.
Despite some initially half-hearted attempts to come to terms with Watkins’s
discovery, the archaeologists of the day were highly sceptical. But some of the
scepticism was understandable: unless all of Watkins’s leys were the product of
coincidence, what did they actually mean? Watkins and his immediate followers
had a great deal of enthusiasm for drawing straight lines on the map, but this sort
of activity would lead nowhere without getting out and walking the lines in the
field. If Watkins was right, and leys were trackways, then it should be possible
to see one mark point from the other and be able to make one’s way along the
original route. If this is not possible then, at best, some of the mark points had
been lost or destroyed; at worst, the line was simply a product of chance.
ROMAN ROADS
Straight roads didn’t officially appear in Britain until the Roman invasion,
and Watkins’s discovery of leys was originally prompted by his attempts to trace
the lost courses of the Roman roads around Hereford. He believed that the
Romans had, in many cases, simply adopted existing ancient British trackways
and built their new roads over them without the need for further surveying. It is
true that some Roman roads are aligned on ancient preRoman monuments, and
one such example can be seen near Avebury in Wiltshire where a preserved
section of Roman road in a field next to the modern Devizes to Swindon road
can be seen to point directly towards Silbury Hill, the largest manmade mound in
Europe. Another is the Fosse Way, which aligns directly upon the prominent
Bronze Age mound at Brinklow in Leicestershire. Even more curious are Roman
roads which appear to point directly towards church towers and spires built
centuries after the Romans left Britain. A prime example of this can be found in
Cirencester in Gloucestershire, where the course of Ermine Street (now a
modern road) heads directly towards the massive tower of Cirencester church.
There were practical reasons for the Romans to build straight roads: they had
to move armies and supplies around the country quickly and by the most direct
route. But it is not inconceivable that the first roads built during the conquest of
Britain were engineered over the courses of existing trackways and roads.
Excavations beneath Watling Street, Ermine Street and the Fosse Way have
revealed the paving stones of earlier roads. It is also known that the indigenous
Britons had the chariot; such vehicles would be ineffective if decent roads had
not been available to run them on. The Icknield Way and Peddar’s Way are other
examples of older trackways Romanised by the invaders.
Like Watkins’s prehistoric ley men, the Romans had to deal with natural
obstructions such as hills and rivers, and the routes of Roman roads up hillsides
can be seen to deviate from a straight line until they reach the summit before
resuming the straight course of the road. All over the south of France, a Roman
occupied area, towns and villages are at the tops of hills, with a snaking road
curling to the summit, but often with a straight road at the foot of the hill.
Elsewhere, the straight course of the road, sighted on a prominent hill or
geographical feature when forced to deviate, was quickly brought back on
course, often with severe changes of direction. The construction of the Roman
road
Peddar’s Way, Norfolk. A remarkably straight Roman road.
network in Britain was a large-scale planning exercise and the existence of
parallel stretches of road, and roads at right angles to each other, testify to the
skills of the Roman surveyors. Probably the best example of Roman road
alignment is the Fosse Way, which runs from Exeter to Lincoln and which
originally linked together a series of forts set equidistant along the route. The
alignment is 200 miles long and deviates only eight miles over its whole length
in order to avoid difficult terrain. The longest straight section of Roman road in
Britain is on the Peddar’s Way in East Anglia, a length of 22 miles.
Apart from the need to get from point A to point B quickly, the other reason
for straightness may well have been the symbolism of power. Nothing is likely
to demonstrate your complete superiority more than being able to take the
straight and direct route through a conquered country. The straight road showed
you were in control, of both the landscape and its people. It is this link between
straightness and imperial power, government and kingship, that may offer
further clues to the understanding of the straight landscape line.
Like Watkins we can find words in our language that hint at the link between
imperial power and straightness. Modern English is the result of many centuries
of evolution and contains fragments of many other older languages. One of the
oldest is Indo-European, which can still be found in many European languages.
The Indo-European root-words reg and rect mean ‘movement in a straight line’
and can be found in modern words such as regular, rectangle, direction, region
and so on. The same root words also surface in other modern words which are
associated with moral behaviour, kingship and order, such as right, righteous and
rectitude, regal, regency, reign, royal and ruler. The word ‘ruler’ is a good
example of the crossover in meaning, conveying the concept of imposing moral
and political authority on subjects as well as determining and maintaining the
boundaries of a kingdom.
The Romans were well practised in the laying out of land into an ordered
system, and the principle of ‘centuration’ is well established. From a central
point, the ‘umbilicus’ or navel, straight roads were laid out in the four cardinal
directions, a sacred stone marking the centre. The Romans built rectilinear street
patterns in their towns and a system of radiating roads, which symbolised their
imposition of order upon the countries they conquered. This principle of
ordering the landscape was a tool of imperial power that can be found in similar
forms elsewhere in the civilised world. The ancient emperors of China, for
instance, built their Forbidden City complex in Peking, at the heart of the
Empire, on a rectilinear grid from which royal roads ran to the four cardinal
points. In this way the divine influence of the Emperor could spread out into the
four quarters of the land.
The association of straight roads and imposed order survived into recent
centuries. The great parks of England were laid out with radiating straight roads
like the spokes of a wheel leading out from the great house. The Mall in London
is a classic example of the straight royal road leading to (or from) Buckingham
Palace which is still in use today. Even in modern times we are still building
deliberately straight lines into our towns. At the centre of the new town of
Milton Keynes the three main boulevards are laid out in parallel straight lines
pointing in the direction of the midsummer sunrise, but this was a purely fanciful
piece of design and isolated within a wobbly grid of modern roads designed to
inhibit the speed of modern vehicles. The Milton Keynes boulevards are a
hollow reminder of a principle once held to be of great importance.
A curious example of a link between straightness and kingship can be found
in the portfolios of the Straight Track Club of 1927. W. H. Fox mentions a story
relating to the Manor Gotham in Nottinghamshire. King John and his followers,
on their way from Nottingham, decided to take a short cut at Cuckoo Bush near
the village of Gotham in order to follow a straight track across the meadows.
The villagers of Gotham tried all manner of ways to prevent this as they believed
that wherever the King passed through, the royal track became a public pathway
forever; such was the power of the King and the law.
The link between imperial power and straightness goes back a long way. The
Kilmartin valley in Argyllshire in Scotland is the location of a great number of
prehistoric monuments; stone circles, standing stones and chambered cairns litter
the valley floor. In this valley lies a classic ley line: a dead straight alignment of
huge chambered burial mounds (see Directory: A Scottish Royal Ley). This is an
accepted deliberate alignment of tombs of ancient kings. Unnoticed or
unmentioned in the academic literature is the fact that the line through the tombs,
when extended, passes through three forts, one of which sits on top of a conical
hill. This line is clearly not a trader’s trackway. It is a symbolic line linking the
burial places of kings with their seats of power (the forts) and a prominent hill.
This line is a symbol of kingship as powerful as any Imperial Roman road.
The second link with straightness, which also relates to divine kingship, is
moral authority. In his search for historical references to the old straight track,
Watkins found several in the Bible linking the straight path and the ways of
righteousness. For example:
‘I will go before thee, and make the crooked places straight’ Isaiah 45:2
‘Make straight paths for your feet’ Hebrews 12:13
‘For at the first she will walk with him by crooked ways, and bring fear and
dread upon him, and torment him with her discipline until she may trust his soul
and try him by her laws. Then she will return the straight way unto him and
comfort him, and shew him her secrets’ Ecclesiasticus 4:17
‘Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall
be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be brought low; and the crooked
shall be made straight, and the rough places shall be made smooth’ Luke 3:4
‘Make thy way straight before my face’ Psalms 5:8
‘Their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity;
Wasting and destruction are in their paths,
The way of peace they know not;
And there is no judgement in their goings:
They have made them crooked paths’ Isaiah 59:7
‘I will cause them to walk unto the river of waters in a straight line wherein they
shall not stumble’ Jeremiah 31:9
The association of moral rectitude with the ‘straight and narrow’ path can be
seen clearly in Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, an allegorical tale of a pilgrim’s
journey through life and the moral dilemmas he faces on the way to salvation.
The story takes the form of a journey across country along a straight track, a
symbol Bunyan obviously borrowed from the Bible. On route Bunyan’s Pilgrim,
Christian, is beset by distracting companions. He is directed by Good-Will:
‘Look before thee; dost thou see the narrow way? That is the way thou must
go; it was cast up by the patriarchs, the prophets, Christ, and his apostles; and it
is as straight as a rule can make it . . . But thus thou may’st distinguish the right
from the wrong, the right only being straight and narrow.’
Pilgrim ’s Progress, Watkins maintains, is nothing less than a folk memory
of the old straight track in England. From the start point, the pond, the causeway
through it, the wicket gate and the beacon light beyond, are all made by Bunyan
to be sighted in one straight line.
However insistent Watkins may have been that his alignments were the
remnants of a system of old straight tracks, the direct evidence for this was
sparse. It is true that he found many straight fragments of roads and tracks
aligning with his mark points; in their survey of English leys in the late 1970s
Devereux and Thompson also found numerous examples of ancient tracks falling
on map leys. But without verification of the age of those tracks the coincidence
of map alignment and straight track could only be one of surmise, however
tantalising. So, at a time when the straight track explanation for leys was
beginning to lose favour with post-war ley hunters, along came a book that
caused great excitement and provided a desperately needed boost for serious ley
researchers.
In 1978 Tony Morrison’s book Pathways to the Gods was published. In it
was a remarkable collection of aerial photographs, which appeared to show dead
straight tracks running for miles across the deserts and pampas of South
America. It seemed that Morrison had rediscovered a Watkinsian ley system
intact half-way across the globe. Morrison, a zoologist by training and a
filmmaker by profession, had developed an interest in the enigmatic desert
markings at Nazca in Peru. These straight lines, geometric shapes and
zoomorphic images had received notoriety in the 1960s when the Swiss writer
Erich von Daniken, in a well-publicised and serialised book, claimed that they
were the landing strips of extraterrestrial spaceships.
The Nazca lines have been studied for many years and it still remains a
mystery as to exactly why they were laid out on the vast mountain plateau. Some
of the lines connected burial places, some were associated with ancestor cults,
and others were believed to be the routes of spirits. More recently,
anthropologists and archaeologists have linked some of the Nazca markings with
ancient rituals connected with ensuring a regular supply of water. Large
trapezoidal markings point towards hill and mountain sources of water and are
associated with sacred sites. To
Part of the vast complex of straight pathways on the Nazca plain. The bird effigy, a condor, has a wingspan
of over 350 feet.
confuse the matter even further the desert plain is also home to other vast
figures that overlay the lines. The plain is peppered with animal images
including a monkey, a spider, a killer whale, a hummingbird and a condor. There
are also a giant hand, flowers and a spiral, all created like the lines, by removing
dark soil from the surface to expose the lighter soils beneath, which over the
centuries has turned a purplishbrown colour. While some of the animal figures
resembled those found on Nazca pottery, others were thought to represent
mythological spirits or even visions seen by the Nazca people.
At the time Morrison first visited the Nazca lines, he met Maria Reiche, a
German mathematician who had been studying the lines for 17 years. She sought
proof that the vast lines led directly to the rising and setting points of celestial
bodies on the horizon. As early as 1941 a history professor at Long Island
University in the USA had witnessed the midwinter sun setting at the end of one
of the lines, which led him to describe the Nazca desert as ‘the largest astronomy
book in the world’. In 1968 Morrison visited Nazca again during the making of a
documentary film for the BBC, where he met up with Professor Gerald Hawkins,
the man who had ‘cracked’ the riddle of Stonehenge a few years previously.
Hawkins was in the desert to test for himself the astronomical theories put
forward to explain the Nazca lines. Hawkins’s meticulous surveys showed that
the lines deviated from a straight course by less than four yards in a mile! He
made an accurate plan of the lines on the pampa, but after running a computer
check on the alignments he found no significant correlation between them and
positions of any stars as they would have appeared at the time the lines were
believed to have been built and used.
Documentary records from 1586 refer to an ancient people who lived at
Nazca before the Incas, and had built roads, still visible then, as wide as a street.
It is possible that Nazca lines were used as roads, although their profusion makes
this doubtful. There doesn’t seem to be any astronomical explanation either. So
what were the lines built for?
It wasn’t until 1977 that Morrison returned to South America in search of an
explanation for the old straight South American track. Apparently unaware of
Watkins or leys, Morrison’s discoveries and observations seem all the more
important as he uncovered a system of ancient straight trackways, still in
existence and still being used by local people, all of which conformed almost
exactly to the original Watkins model.
Morrison was directed to a place 25 miles north of the Nazca pampa where
other dead straight lines had been found in the desert. He found a line a mile
long pointing directly to a large hill. At the other end was a low mound. Unlike
the Nazca lines this line had been made from small heaps of stone set
approximately two yards apart with a smooth path running to one side. Large
stone heaps had been placed at both ends of the line. In the same area he found
other lines and large cleared areas similar to those found at Nazca. In many cases
Morrison found that the lines connected one centre with another, often a site in
the valley to another on the higher pampa. A small number simply ended in the
desert as a deliberately placed heap of stones.
At Collique, near Lima, Morrison was shown a place where lines radiated
from a central hub like the spokes of a wheel, but they were clearly not
highways. Straightness, however, was a common feature with all the examples
he found. The answer to this enigma he was told was ‘beyond mathematics’ and
would be found in the Andean mind, in the customs and religion of the people
who built the lines. At the site of Collique, American anthropologists had
discovered coca leaves placed deliberately under a stone. The Indians would
leave coca, a traditionally used and respected stimulant, as an offering to their
gods and spirit places. These spirit places were called wak’as and included
stones, hills, springs, caves and other inanimate objects – even the mummies of
ancestors. Many seemed to be connected in some way by straight lines or tracks.
THE OLD STRAIGHT SOUTH AMERICAN TRACK
Plate 8: Two dead straight paths run up a hillside to hilltop shrines in a remote Andean village.
Andean villages straight paths climb the local holy hill where the villagers
believe the spirits of their ancestors dwell (see Plate 8). On holy days after
dancing in the village square the Aymara Indians go in procession along the
straight paths, making offerings along the way, to the shrines perched on the hill
at the end of the lines.
Morrison was fortunate to have stumbled across the Andean lines when he
did, for although some of the sacred pathways and their shrines were still in use
then, many had been abandoned. The younger generations no longer hold the
ancient beliefs of their parents and grandparents and the whole system is
beginning to fall into disrepair. Eventually the lines will fade, leaving only the
piles of stones for future investigators to puzzle over.
ONLY IN AMERICA . . .
It has been suggested that the ceques of Cuzco may have been conceptual
lines rather than physical paths, whose courses can only now be traced by the
shrines still remaining on the lines. A remarkably similar type of conceptual line
can be found on the other side of the Atlantic in Ireland. W. Y. Evans-Wentz
travelled extensively in the ‘Celtic’ parts of Britain and France earlier this
century collecting fairy stories, which later appeared in his book, The Fairy Faith
in Celtic Countries. He wrote about the fairy paths in Ireland, sometimes visible
as old roads, but frequently only preserved in folk memory. The fairy paths or
passes are invisible, mythical routes used by the fairies or the ‘little people’ on
their seasonal journeys between their dwelling places. Fairy dwelling places
include small hills and hillocks, often the sites of raths, circular defensive
earthwork enclosures of known antiquity. Raths were known to local people as
fairy forts. Anyone unlucky enough to be standing on a fairy pass when the
fairies moved through the land was likely to be struck dead or carried off. It was
the custom for those whose house was built across a fairy pass to leave the front
and back doors open when the fairies were on the move so as to allow them free
passage.
In the 1950s Diarmuid MacManus recounted a number of tales from living
memory about the dangers of obstructing the fairy path, which suggest that the
passes were straight. A certain Mickey Langan had decided to build himself a
new house but took the precaution of checking on the location of nearby fairy
forts so that he could select a site that did not lie on a direct line between them.
That way he would be assured that his new house would not hinder the
movement of the fairies. Another fellow, Paddy Baine, had built a house without
consultation with the local seer and after taking up residence was plagued by
disturbances which threatened to shake the house down to the ground. He had
built up against the side of a lane. The local wise woman advised him to remove
the corner that abutted the road as it was impeding the progress of the ‘good
people’. The local stonemason sliced off the offending corner and the
disturbances subsequently ceased. Finally, Michael O’Hagan lost his eldest son
through a mystery illness that baffled the local doctor. His second son then fell
ill and died. Still the mystery illness could not be identified. Eventually four
more children died and still the malady continued to affect his remaining
children. Eventually, recourse to the local wise woman revealed the somewhat
unusual reason for the problem. Six months before his troubles began O’Hagan
had extended his cottage west (a
Diagram showing the stone rows at Merrivale.
practice frowned upon by traditional wisdom), into an open field (even
worse) and (most dangerously) into a straight line between two fairy forts (my
italics). A night’s work with a pickaxe saw the extension demolished and the
surviving children rapidly recovered.
Little work has been done on trying to identify the geographical location of
fairy passes in Ireland, and it has been argued without any real hard evidence
that they are not necessarily straight. Certainly, preliminary map work has
revealed that raths, which are plentiful in parts of rural Ireland, can frequently be
found to align with each other and with natural mounds in true Watkinsian
fashion. A query in Portfolio 20 of the Straight Track Club mentions the
discovery by Dr Graves, the Bishop of Limerick and fellow of Trinity College,
Dublin, of a principle in the arrangement of raths, which was believed to lead to
important results in establishing the ancient geography of Ireland. He had made
a connection between the alignments of three cup marks on ancient stones and
the frequent alignment of raths in groups of three on the ordnance maps and
surmised that the cup mark stones were diagrams of the raths in the district.
Gordon McLellan, writing in The Ley Hunter, reported his investigation of a
straight road leading from a fairy mound at Streedagh, aligning to two further
fairy forts and the fairy mountain of Benbulbin – an unusually flattopped
mountain in County Sligo. He also discovered an unmetalled track running due
west from a fairy fort south of Streedagh, past an unnamed mound and eastwards
through two groups of fairy forts and on to the summit of Benwisken, a
companion peak to Benbulbin. Ley hunting is in its infancy in Ireland and there
is much to be uncovered. (See Directory: Sligo Fairy Passes.)
On a smaller scale than the map ley, ancient straight alignments can be found
in Britain, many of which show an intimate connection with burial places, and
by inference, the spirits of the dead. Dartmoor is studded with rows of standing
stones, sometimes singly and sometimes in pairs (see Plate 9). Often they pass
over a burial chamber or run to or from a stone circle (see Directory: Merrivale
Lines). The most famous stone rows in England can be found at Avebury in
Wiltshire. The Kennet Avenue consists of a parallel pair of lines of massive
sarsen stones which once ran from the Sanctuary, the site of a lost stone circle
and once the site of a wooden building associated with funerary rites, to the vast
henge and stone circle of Avebury itself. Only part of the Avenue can now be
seen (see Plate 10). It consists of a series of straight sections and at changes of
direction in the Avenue archaeologists have discovered remains of human
burials (see Directory: A Solemne Walke). At Callanish, on the Isle of Lewis in
the Outer Hebrides, four avenues of upright stones converge from the four
quarters on a stone circle that was constructed around an earlier burial cist.
A slightly larger prehistoric linear feature is the Neolithic cursus. A fine
example exists close to Stonehenge and consists of two parallel banks and
ditches which run for nearly two miles and which enclose a long thin rectangular
space. At the western end lies a long mound that copies the shape of a long
barrow located at the eastern end of the cursus. The northern bank and ditch runs
dead straight between these
Plate 9: One of the stone rows at Merrivale on Dartmoor, Devon. The triangular stone in the foreground is
the ‘blocking stone’ set across the path between the stones.
features. The Stonehenge cursus lies on a classic ley line (see Directory:
Stonehenge Cursus). A line drawn along the northern bank and ditch passes
through the nearby Cuckoo Stone, a single standing stone, and on to the centre of
Woodhenge, another lost timber building like the Sanctuary, used for funerary
rituals. A burial of a sacrificed girl was discovered at the centre of Woodhenge.
This alignment wasn’t officially recognised by archaeologists until 1947, but the
publication of a book on the excavations at Woodhenge prompted Alfred
Watkins to write to The Times on 13 August 1930.
The letter, with something of an air of resentment for the way in which his
idea had, until then, been ignored by archaeologists, suggested that
topographical sighting or alignment might become a useful tool in antiquarian
research in identifying sites for excavation. He described his discovery on the
map that the northern bank of the Stonehenge cursus aligned through the Cuckoo
Stone, a prehistoric megalith. He later noticed in the excavation reports on
Woodhenge that the same
Plate 10: The Kennet Avenue, Avebury, Wiltshire. Concrete bollards mark the locations of missing
megaliths.
alignment passes straight through the centre of that newly discovered
monument. The line was mentioned by the archaeologists who noted that
additional postholes outside Woodhenge aligned on the Cuckoo Stone. However
their line was not extended to include the Stonehenge cursus bank. The cursus
clearly pointed towards an important monument and Watkins suggested that
perhaps other prehistoric linear features might indicate the presence of hitherto
undiscovered sites.
The Stonehenge cursus was discovered by the antiquary William Stukeley in
1723 and was so named after the Latin for racecourse. Stumped for an
explanation of this strange feature, Stukeley assumed, because of its shape, that
the cursus was used for horse racing. When Stukeley visited the Stonehenge
cursus its banks and ditches were more prominent than they are now, but over
the centuries the plough has all but obliterated them. Other cursuses have been
discovered in Britain, but mostly through aerial photography where, in certain
seasonal conditions, the courses of the ditches can show up as darker lines in the
fields. Despite the increasing number of discoveries, no-one is any nearer to
understanding what their function was. Most of them can be
Diagram of the Dorset Cursus on Cranborne Chase, Dorset, showing the alignment of long barrows.
found near watercourses, which has prompted a connection with rituals to do
with sacred rivers; they are also often found in the vicinity of other monuments,
which has led some to suggest that they were part of a ritual landscape or sacred
geography, the true meaning of which we can only guess at. Burials have been
found by excavation at the ends of some cursuses, but often there are few
artifacts found within the enclosures themselves.
In Lines on the Landscape, Paul Devereux and Nigel Pennick examined a
number of prominent British cursus monuments from the ley hunting
perspective. The Dorset cursus, the largest in Britain, has several alignments to
long barrows as well as a solar alignment. It is about six miles long and changes
direction on its course from west to east suggesting that it may have been two
cursuses joined together. The barrows, which are older than the cursuses, were
probably used as sighting points to align the banks and ditches. Archaeologists
accept that the link between the barrows and the cursus was deliberate,
suggesting that the cursus must have been connected with practices involving
ancestor worship or the veneration of the dead. More recent excavations have
revealed later Bronze Age barrows linked to the cursus by straight avenues of
upright timber posts showing that the sacred nature of the cursus survived
several centuries and was still powerful enough to make the later inhabitants
treat it with respect and reverence.
The Rudston cursus B (one of several around this Yorkshire village) is
aligned on the Rudston monolith, Britain’s tallest standing stone, which can be
found next to the parish church. The destruction of many standing stones, the
loss of many cursus monuments to the plough and development make it
impossible to say whether this type of relationship between monuments was
common. Other cursuses display alignments with churches. Again this may be
purely fortuitous, but given that many ancient churches were built on the sites of
earlier sacred places, this may indicate that a prehistoric monument once stood
on the cursus alignment and that a connection between standing stones, long
barrows and other monuments such as henges was common.
AN INCOMPLETE PICTURE
HAUNTED HIGHWAYS:
All roads and tracks must cross at some stage, and Alfred Watkins drew
particular attention to crossroads in The Old Straight Track. Time and again
during his map searches for leys, he encountered the ‘most constant and curious
experience’ of finding present-day crossroads on the crossing points of his leys.
Although the old straight tracks had all but disappeared, the crossing points had
survived and modern roads still crossed at these points. In many cases he found
that modern roads and tracks swerved more or less from his plotted straight ley,
but returned to it at places which were almost always crossroads or the meeting
points of other tracks. The crossing places were often still marked by ancient
standing stones and mark stones or crosses. The latter, Watkins surmised, had
replaced earlier unworked stones. The ‘stone at the crossroads’, he said, ‘seems
to have had a far-reaching effect on the history of religion, commerce and
topography’. (See plate 11.)
Plate 11: The cross at Saintbury, Gloucestershire, an alligned section of road used as a funeral path
between the cross and Saintbury church. This cross also marks a lengthy alignment between Brailes Hill in
Warwickshire and Bredon Hill in Worcestershire running at right angles to the Saintbury ley (See Saintbury
Ley and Pathway to the Sun in the Directory of Ley Lines).
NO-MAN’S LAND
Traditionally, the crossroads was a kind of no-man’s land, neither here nor
there, a place beyond the real world, a liminal space where normal physical laws
did not apply. At such places it was possible to make contact with the spirit
world. Wayside shrines and crosses are a common feature of crossroads in
Europe, and suicides and murderers were frequently buried at such places as it
was seen as unconsecrated ground, set apart from the everyday world. Such
outcasts were not for heaven and were buried in a place where their spirits would
be forced to wander indecisively for eternity. Burial in these places was a
safeguard, but the reasons for this are unclear. Perhaps the shape of the
traditional crossroads created the impression of consecrated ground, as suicides
were denied normal Christian burial; perhaps it was believed that the malign
spirits of the dead would disperse along the roads leading from the crossroads
and not be concentrated in one spot. As a consequence, ghostly legends became
attached to crossroads and they have become widely associated with magic and
the appearances and activities of demons, the Devil, witches, fairies, ghosts,
spirits and other paranormal phenomena.
Such folk beliefs have survived into the 20th century and travelled to the
New World. A famous tale concerns the legendary blues guitarist Robert
Johnson, who ‘went down to the crossroads’, as the song goes, and traded his
soul to the Devil in exchange for his renowned guitar skills. The price was high
and Johnson was to die young and penniless.
The crossings of paths is a specific area of interest for those who collect
stories of paranormal activity, especially sightings of ghosts or spirits. Such
sightings and other paranormal events often take place along ancient highways
and especially at the crossings of such highways. If it can be accepted that ghosts
move along the paths, then it stands to reason that they must meet – perhaps
even correspond in some way – at crossroads. Whether these tales tell of real
events or whether they are colourful evidence of a perceived belief in both the
existence of ghosts and spirits and their behaviour, does not directly concern us
here. The importance for ley hunters is that the stories exist at all and what they
say about the landscape and our relationship to it. The traditional associations of
the crossroads with spirits and ghosts can be found all over Europe and the
British Isles, as well as in Greece, India, Japan, and amongst Native Americans
and Mongols, which suggests that the origins of these beliefs must have had
some basis in real human experience.
Crossroads were believed to be haunted by various entities that took delight
in leading travellers astray. Stories abound from Europe of the many encounters
between ordinary folk and spirits at crossroads and the highways leading to and
from them. German lore tells of a ghostly rider who haunts a crossroads in
Schleswig and prevents people from passing by sticking his horse’s neck out into
the road. A legend from Pomerania tells of the encounter between a traveller and
a shadowy figure at a crossroads. The apparition follows the poor fellow home
and begins to haunt his house. Eventually the man speaks to the ghost who asks
him to accompany him to a churchyard and pray for his release from his
purgatory. (See also Plate 12.)
Plate 12: The snow-covered death road leading to a cemetery near Gtodowo in Pomerania, Poland. To
the left is a large wooden cross, to the right a standing stone. The bush behind the stone is traditionally
decorated with strips of red and white cloth, left to please the nature spirits.
All Hallows Eve is a favourite time for spirits to gather at crossroads, a time
where the boundaries between this world and the Otherworld are most likely to
be breached. Welsh lore attests to this annual gathering at every crossroads. In
European lore the gathering Hallowe’en spirits walk in procession to visit the
homes of their relatives. These ghostly processions can be seen if you stand at a
crossroads and rest your chin on a forked stick. Other stories tell of how to gain
access to spirits, ghosts and witches at crossroads by performing elaborate
rituals. Danish lore instructs those who wish to contact the Otherworld to stand
at a crossroads within a rectangle formed by cart tracks and call out the name of
the ghost you wish to speak with. These encounters were usually for some
specific purpose and often to find out who was going to die. Various legends tell
of hearing the names of those about to die and the wind blowing over the feet of
the corpses on its way to the houses of the doomed.
In Britain, folk memory still records the belief in spirits and methods of
protection against them. Spirit ‘sweeping’ was practised in the Isle of Man;
Bernadette Thomas records in The Ley Hunter that as a child she was told that
evil spirits could be dispersed if she went to a crossroads at midnight and swept
the intersection clear with a broom.
SUPERNATURAL HIGHWAYS
These few examples are relatively modern, but there are hundreds of older
tales that tell of the linear movement of ghosts, phantom coaches, headless
horses, black dogs and so on. While some may have only a spurious connection
with an old road or track, others provide tantalising clues to link ghost sightings
and paranormal phenomena with leys. It is evidence such as this that has led to a
fresh interpretation of Watkins’s original discovery. Even when the idea that leys
were some form of ‘Earth energy’ zapping between standing stones was popular
the notion of spirit lines surfaced briefly before being subsumed in the ‘Earth
energy’ ideas of post-war ley hunters.
In the mid-1970s the pioneer Earth Mysteries writer John Michell wrote of
the legend that attributed to the feet of angels the old tracks that lead from one
stone cross to another across the wastes of Dartmoor. In historical times the
tracks were retrodden by saints, pilgrims and pedlars and in this way were
transformed from spirit paths into footpaths. Networks of these routes can, he
said, be discovered in all countries where they are used at festivals in connection
with ceremonies, for ritual journeys and pilgrimages, and for funeral routes or
corpse paths. Many are now lost, but the memory of them remains in the legends
of underground tunnels linking ancient sites and burial places.
In the past, ley hunters have often come across legends of underground
tunnels and passages which have been looked upon as possible folk memories of
old buried trackways and paths linking places with churches and ancient sites.
Watkins excavated several of these ‘lost’ tracks during his investigations. The
link between legendary long distance tunnels and spirit paths seems to be a
universal theme in folklore; an underground passage often indicates a real secret
route above ground.
One such legend is that of the Black Abbot of Prestbury, Gloucestershire,
reputedly England’s most haunted village. The Black Abbot may be seen at
Easter, Christmas and on All Saints’ Day. His walk starts in the church at
Prestbury, continues through the churchyard and ends at Reform Cottage (a
weatherboarded house dating from the 16th century). Paranormal activity is
supposed to occur in the cottage when the old monk is about. The cottage garden
is said to lie over the burial ground of the monks who came to Prestbury from
Llanthony Abbey in Gloucester, and a secret passageway is supposed to link the
cottage with the church.
Another legend is that of the Langston Arms hotel in Kingham in
Oxfordshire, which has a reputation for hauntings. A number of occurrences
took place in 1964 where a ghost appeared to the landlord or the customers every
ten days or so in the form of a white shape that resembled the figure of a nun in a
head-dress. Shuffling footsteps and strange sounds like someone coughing often
preceded the appearance. The building is only 200 years old, but the foundations
are earlier and there is a story of a bricked up secret passageway that led to
Bruern Abbey. Another tunnel is supposed to link Tangley Hall with the Abbey,
four miles away.
Other examples include legends of underground passages in Moreton-in-
Marsh, Gloucestershire (Manor Holme Hotel to the church), Northleach,
Gloucestershire (Gaggle Cottage to the church), and Great Wolford,
Warwickshire, where a secret passage leads from the Fox and Hounds pub to the
nearby church, along which the deceased were supposedly carried. Many years
ago it was said that the bodies waiting for burial would be laid in what is now
the dining room of the inn. Subsequent hauntings have been reported from the
pub. Even after their everyday uses had been abandoned, the reputation of these
old pathways survived in their legends as spirit paths and the haunts of fairies
and ghosts. There is a notorious place close to Ilmington in Warwickshire on the
Stratford Road at the crossroads by Bruton Barn where farmers returning from
Stratford market late at night would be held up. Their horses would refuse to
budge and they would sit for an hour or more. This was supposed to have been
the burial place of a highwayman who was laid to rest with a stake driven
through his heart.
A spectral funeral procession is apparently to be seen speeding through
hedges and ditches from Weston-sub-Edge on the edge of the Cotswolds to
Bretforton churchyard, a route that follows an old burial path; a phantom white
calf has been seen on the road to Ettington in Warwickshire, which is also
haunted by an old woman wearing a sunbonnet and carrying a basket. A Roman
burial place was discovered close to this road.
A manuscript dating from the 1850s mentions a pool at Hoarwithy in
Herefordshire, said to be haunted. The pool was close to where ‘the Bierless
Road falls into the Hereford Road’. Local historian Heather Hurley says that
Bierless Road (which no longer exists, but whose line can still be traced) was a
corpse way leading to a burial ground where the corpses of suicides, paupers and
vagrants were laid to rest.
At Barton-on-the-Heath in Warwickshire there is a bend in the road to
Kitebrook where a willow tree is supposed to mark the spot where a
highwayman was hanged. His ghost haunts the road. A ‘grey lady’ haunts
another spot further along the road. At Lyme Park Hall, between Whaley Bridge
and Stockport in Cheshire, a ghostly funeral procession haunts the one and a
quarter mile drive between the park gates and the house. The cortege bears the
body of Sir Piers Leigh, a knight who served Henry V in his campaign in France.
Another north country road ghost can be found near Raby Castle, south-west of
Bishop Auckland. A phantom horseman roams the lanes near West Auckland,
riding a white horse towards Hamsterley Forest, where he gradually disappears
as if the horse was galloping into the ground. Finally, 12 miles from the
Canterbury end of the Pilgrim’s Way, an ancient trackway with a grand tradition
of hauntings, near the crossroads of the A253 Ramsgate to Canterbury road and
the A266 going south from Margate, there used to be a burial ground and a
gibbet. At night a glowing light moves along the road, flickers across the
junction and momentarily takes on the shape of a robed figure.
In their study of English leys in the late 1970s Paul Devereux and Ian
Thompson recorded ghost sighting legends on 17 of their 41 surveyed examples
and suggested that the link was probably between ghosts and the sites on the leys
rather than with the leys themselves. But until we can say with any surety what a
ley is this will have to remain an open question.
Despite the randomness of many of these sightings, attempts have been made
in the past to find some kind of order to paranormal sightings within a localised
area. A type of ghostly line, which has been recorded in folklore, is that of the
phantom black dog. In Portfolio 11 of the Straight Track Club archive Barbara
Carbonnel writes:
‘For some time I have had in my mind that some of the traditional ‘‘walks’’
or ‘‘haunts’’ of ghosts and spectres might be connected with the straight track
alignments. And I think I have found at least one instance of one, of which I give
the particulars. There is in this neighbourhood – mid-Devon – a tradition of a
black dog – a spectre – which is seen at night on certain roads, and the apparition
is spoken of locally as ‘‘The Black Dog of Torrington’’. Torrington is about 12
miles distant from the point where the spectre is said to come from, and on first
hearing this tale, I tried to see if any line could be found which would go from
Copleston Cross – the starting point – to Torrington and yet pass through the
several points at which the spectre is said to have been seen. I do not pretend to
have searched the full extent of the line exhaustively but I have done a
considerable part of it and I think the result may prove very interesting and the
details I propose to give will show that the line does lie right through the points
where the dog is said to have been known to pass.’
Theo Brown was able to add further such Black Dog lines to the area. He
mentioned a Cornish Black Dog line running from Liskeard to Launceston and
another, curving, line running from Liskeard to Tavistock.
In 1977 the Earth Mysteries writer, John Michell, recounted an old tale of a
Black Dog seen in 1907 by a Somerset man, near Budleigh Hill. This fiery-eyed
apparition was seen to run along the road until it came to a spot where a stream
passed under it. When it reached that spot the dog shot up into the air in a flash
of fire. A common belief was that such phantoms could not abide running water.
A similar tale from Dartmoor tells of a farmer who chased a phantom Black Dog
to a crossroads where it seemed to explode in a blinding flash. Away from the
connection with water and the crossroads, another account of a Black Dog
sighting concerns that of a phantom creature that rushes at midnight through a
Devonshire village along a road from the church, demolishing a corner of a
schoolhouse, or seeming to demolish it because although falling masonry can be
heard, no actual damage is done. In Lyme Regis in Dorset, however, the corner
of an inn known as The Black Dog was reputedly knocked down by a phantom
Black Dog. Black Dog sightings are also traditionally associated with
churchyards and stretches of old roads. In Scotland the Black Dog is known as
cu sith and is believed to travel in straight lines along certain roads, its sighting
being a warning of impending ill luck and even death. A straight track on the
north Somerset coast is referred to as Death Mile because locals believed it to be
haunted by a Black Dog that brings death to whoever sees it.
More recently researchers have been looking out for folklore evidence that
points directly to a straight line connection between sightings of paranormal
events. Hidden passageways, which ley hunters often took as indicators of old
alignments, can be found in the suburbs of Bristol. Local researcher Phil Quinn,
writing in The Ley Hunter, mentions a tower on the highest point in the Old
Forest of Kingswood, all that survives of the now destroyed King John’s
Hunting Lodge. It was said that a secret tunnel ran for 2.5 km north-east to
Staple Hill House. Another, unrelated, folk tale tells of a warrior on a white
horse who would charge through the gates of the Lodge and gallop across
country to the Forest Pool where it promptly disappeared. When plotted on the
map, Forest Pool sits in direct alignment between the Lodge and Staple Hill
House following the line of the secret passage.
Quinn also discovered another example at Hinton Charterhouse, North
Somerset, where a secret tunnel is believed to run from the ruined Carthusian
Priory, under the parish church and on to the medieval George Inn, built by the
monks and one of England’s most ancient hostelries. As the passage runs
through the grounds of Hinton House it crosses an area haunted by the ghost of a
young girl and a footpath that mirrors the route of the tunnel is paved with large
stones and has been called the Monk’s Way. Quinn asks whether this might once
have been a sacred route used by seen and unseen souls.
Taking our lead from the examples of spirit travel quoted in the early days of
the ley hunting revival of the 1960s, we can surmise that an explanation for
some leys might be the spirit path. These often invisible paths have survived in
British folklore via the phantom funeral procession, the wandering ghostly
monk, the spectral horseman and ghostly lights, their courses frequently
recorded as routes to and from churches, crossroads and burial places.
Sometimes these spirit ways have a physical counterpart, by way of an old paved
track, or can be successfully plotted on the map to show their straightness. Many
of Watkins’s leys incorporated old trackways leading to ancient churches and
crosses. He records two specific cases where he found straight trackways sighted
directly on churchyard crosses – Monk’s Walk, an ancient avenue at Much
Marcle, Herefordshire, and at Kingstone where a straight piece of ancient lane
paved with cobbles aligns with the cross in the churchyard. Indeed, many of his
leys were almost exclusively lines of churches, giving the lie to the idea that leys
were prehistoric in origin and much ammunition to his detractors. Classic
examples of church leys can be found at Bristol, Oxford and York (see
Directory: York Minster Ley and Oxford City Leys).
GHOST PATHS
The rekindling of interest in the folklore aspects of ley hunting and the
revival of the spirit line idea has encouraged researchers from Britain and
mainland Europe to re-examine their local folklore and legends to see if any
further clues to the straight spirit line might be found. The German Fortean
researcher Ulrich Magin has been a regular contributor to The Ley Hunter for
many years, and his discovery of the German Geisterwege, or ghost paths, has
given a boost to the spirit line theory of leys. Magin found a reference to
Geisterwege in the Handwo¨rterbuch des Deutschen Aberglaubens (The
Handbook of German Folklore):
‘GHOST PATH. Ghost paths are always in the same place, on them one
meets with ghosts quite often. The paths, with no exception, always run in a
straight line over mountains and valleys and through marshes. In the towns they
pass the houses closely or go right through them. The paths end or originate at a
cemetery. This idea may stem from the ancient custom of driving a corpse along
a special dead man’s road, therefore the way or road was believed to have the
same characteristics as a cemetery, it is a place where spirits of the deceased
thrive.’ (Trans. Ulrich Magin)
The German Geisterwege shares several characteristics with the Irish fairy
pass and suggests a common origin of ideas. Both are invisible and both are
permanent routes for the passage of ghosts or spirits. In both cases, too, it is
believed to be extremely unlucky, even dangerous, to block the spirit path.
Magin, writing in The Ley Hunter, recounts the tale of the ‘Leichenflugbahn’ or
‘Flightpath of the corpses’ in the town of Ragnit (or Nemen, as it is now known),
situated on the Memel river in Russia. Leichen is German for corpses and
Flugbahn is a flight path, a word that modern Germany reserves for aircraft. The
folk story is retold in Christa Hinze’s and Ulf Diederich’s book Ostpreußische
Sagen (Folktales of East Prussia).
Ragnit has two cemeteries, one for the German population and one for the
Lithuanian. Traditionally, no shrub or tree, house or wall is allowed on a line
drawn between the two cemeteries, because it was believed that such
obstructions would hinder the movement of the dead. Friends who had since
died would visit each other on stormy nights, flying through the air from one
cemetery to the other. The souls of the dead fly close to the ground and will not
tolerate any obstructions that stand higher than an ell (this is a traditional unit of
measure derived from the distance between the elbow and fingertips). A legend
tells of a foreigner who, ignoring the warnings of local people, built a house on
the south side of the town on the invisible line between the cemeteries. Before
the completion of the roof a storm in the night brought down the walls of the
house. However, makeshift huts on either side remained standing despite the
storm. The builder, embarrassed that he had ignored the warnings of the locals,
decided to defy the flying spirits and he rebuilt the house. Again, before the roof
could be finished there was another stormy night. Once again the house was
destroyed. This time the builder relented and built his house a short distance
away. There it remained unscathed and is still standing today.
The flightpath is very precisely defined. Another Ragnit man with second
sight wanted to erect a shed south of the town. He could see the flying spirits and
marked their route with a stick so that he might build away from the line. In the
event he must have misjudged the true line for after another stormy night he
found the corner of the gable had been torn down. He set about re-erecting the
shed a few feet away and suffered no further damage. However, it is said that a
small roof pin still projects into the flightpath and the owner has to replace it
about a hundred times a year.
While the word used for the flightpath of the corpses, Strich (strip), can
mean ‘land’ as well as ‘line’, there is little doubt that the path must have been
straight. It was precisely defined and narrow, and the Ragnit man who could see
the spirits needed only one marker to define its course.
Magin notes that all the references he has so far unearthed on the subject of
non-physical straight lines such as the Leichenflugbahn all predate Watkins as
well as Watkins’s German contemporaries, and therefore indicate that the tales
cannot be based on the modern concept of ley lines but must relate to some older
tradition. John Michell, writing in Phenomena, mentions a similar traditional
path. The Wild Troop of Rodenstein in Germany is a disagreeable force that
steers a straight course between the two lofty castles of Rodenstein and
Schnellert, blasting all in its path.
The spectral, nocturnal procession of huntsmen, ghosts of the dead and their
horses and hounds is known throughout Europe. The Wild Hunt, as it is called,
has its origins in Norse and Teutonic mythologies where, on stormy nights,
Odin, in the guise of a mounted huntsman, was said to take to the skies with a
pack of spectral dogs and lay the countryside to waste. Any poor soul
unfortunate enough to encounter the Wild Hunt during one of its jaunts would be
transported to a foreign land. The Wild Hunt takes to the air on specific dates
and in Germany, at least, Ulrich Magin has recorded the routes of some of the
Wild Hunts. In any particular area the Hunt often follows the same route,
sometimes causing damage to buildings, and in one incident in BadenWu¨
rttemburg, it left a visible track, but it is not recorded whether or not the path of
the Wild Hunt is straight.
TO ‘LEY’ A GHOST?
Here lies the difficulty faced by today’s ley hunters. Many old stories may
give locations, times and details of events, but they frequently fail to describe
accurately the nature of the ghostly route. This may be because the routes always
varied, or perhaps because it was common knowledge that spirits flew in straight
lines so it wasn’t necessary to state the obvious. Nevertheless, in some cases the
straight aspect of spirit movement is quite categorical and further investigation
can provide clues as to the route of a particular ghost on its nocturnal travels.
It would be easy to jump to the conclusion that the existence of a ley in a
particular location was a good enough reason to believe that ghosts and spirits
are likely to be encountered on or near them. There is no real evidence for this
idea, though the modern belief that leys are some form of energy line has led to
all manner of speculation regarding the power of certain points on a ley and the
interaction of energies at these special locations being responsible for
paranormal activity and the appearance of ghosts. Without any real evidence this
has to remain speculative.
Many ghostly tales were probably contrived in relatively recent times for all
manner of purposes and do not relate to real events at all. But the idea of ghosts
and spirits is so widespread and enduring that it suggests a real physical reason
for the development of the idea in the first place. Certainly, paranormal events
have occurred and been witnessed that are place-related; people have seen
apparitions or ghosts, others have had very real experiences that lead them to
believe that the spirit world is not fantasy but an aspect of reality that is denied
to all but a favoured few. The durability of traditional beliefs in fairies and
Otherworld beings and the continuance of practices related to those beliefs
testifies to some genuine truth.
Given that a proportion of ghost stories and legends have a basis in real
events, how does that relate to the straight landscape line, if at all? A spirit could
take any route on its way from A to B. People will take the straightest path
between two points, but are constrained by hills and rivers, valleys and
vegetation, and naturally their paths are forced to take a winding course. Spirits,
on the other hand, have no such constraints and flight between two points is
perceived to be straight. Random courses should be the norm. Straight paths are
unusual, so where straightness is specified in these tales then it must be
significant. This straightness must come from real human experience, possibly
from witnessing the passage of spirits, either in waking reality, in dreams, or in
the subconscious experience of the Otherworld. There is no other rational
explanation for the worldwide belief in straight spirit flight.
The ley, then, is not responsible for paranormal events. On the contrary, the
occurrence of moving spirits and ghosts is what defines the line. In most cases
these lines are invisible and recoverable only through the points at which the
events occur or by fragments of the ghostly linear journey between them – not a
dissimilar database to that which presented itself to Alfred Watkins when he first
discovered the old straight track. The spirit line is but one aspect of landscape
linearity and a specific one in that it is invisible. In some cultures these invisible
Otherworld roads have been paralleled in the physical world by the making of
real tracks and roads for ceremonial and ritual purposes that follow or mark them
and which relate to the worship of spirits and the fear of the dead. These real
tracks can be identified in the phenomena of the death road and the funeral path
and these and other ceremonial straight pathways will be examined in chapter 7.
CHAPTER 7
SPIRIT WAYS AND DEATH ROADS
It seems that Watkins stumbled upon something significance than a decayed
system of straight trackways, a fact that became obvious to members of the
Straight Track Club when a simple explanation of ley lines failed to appear.
Some insightful and innovative suggestions were made by different members,
but were forgotten following the demise of the club. Some of these ideas,
particularly the connection between leys and the movement of evil spirits along
straight roads, survived into the post-war ley hunting revival and have sustained
up to the present day. It is a short step from phantom funeral parties to death and
burial, and this chapter examines the evidence for a connection between death
rituals, traditional funeral routes and ley lines.
If ancient straight tracks and roads are to be associated with the movement of
spirits and ghosts, then it is a logical step to associate the same routes with the
movement of the dead. Already we have seen instances of phantom funeral
processions on ancient tracks or travelling between churches and churchyards.
Death, burial and the spirit world are intertwined in folklore and common factors
are the road, the track and the crossroads. Not surprisingly, many superstitions,
customs and ceremonies have evolved that surround the apparently simple act of
carrying a corpse to burial.
of far greater
What of the funeral routes themselves? The old funeral path may hold the
key to the explanation of some of Watkins’s alignments, particularly those of
ancient churches. The trigger to this intriguing line of enquiry for ley hunters
was the unlikely discovery of dead straight roads in Holland, which were used
for the carrying of corpses to burial during the Middle Ages.
During his research into the blue stones and circular mosaics that mark the
geomantic centres of old Dutch towns, John Palmer noticed the common
occurrence of roads that had been laid out by medieval surveyors. These old
roads had a prescribed width, according to the uses to which they were put, and
surveyors and travelling magistrates regularly inspected them. Among these
roads were common public footpaths, mill roads, bride ways or marriage roads,
church roads, cart tracks, field roads and roads for agricultural use, general
purpose highways and main roads, and death roads.
Palmer found stretches of old minor roads still in existence in some places
and notable examples of Doodwegen or death roads. These roads were
specifically used to transport the deceased to burial. On Westerheide, a heath
between Laren and Hilversum in north Holland, he discovered three absolutely
straight roads converging on the chapel at the isolated St Janskershof (St John’s
cemetery) (see Plate 13). The Westerheide is peppered with Neolithic and
Bronze Age barrows and is crossed by the Old Postroad and three Doodwegen.
The death roads are thought to date from medieval times. One of them, the road
from ‘s-Graveland, is believed to have been laid out in 1643. The other two are
believed to be older, but their exact age is unknown. In addition, a stretch of the
old Varkensdrift still exists along which pigs were driven to market; an
equivalent of the old English drove road. The cemetery of St John is still in use
although the present chapel is only a hundred years old. It replaced an earlier
chapel dating from the 1600s (see Directory: Three Dutch Death Roads).
Plate 13: One of the three Doodwegen or death roads crossing the Westerheide heath between Hilversum
and Laren in the Netherlands.
Further research led Palmer to a law introduced in AD784 where the council
of Paderborn could serve the death penalty for the cremation of the deceased and
for the burial of the ashes within pagan barrows. It was decreed that bodies had
to be buried in church cemeteries. In addition, certain routes had to be followed
to get them there. The Oath Formula demanded that the mourners carrying a
coffin to burial had to swear that their corpse roads were in good order and that
they had adhered to the straight road when carrying the coffin to burial. In
Twente, Holland, these roads were maintained in good order until about 1800.
The locals called this road variously Doodenweg (death road), Lykweg (corpse
road) and Spokenweg (ghost road). Palmer notes that at the village of Neede it
was, until recently, still considered improper if the burial procession took a short
cut or a minor road to get to the cemetery.
The death road at Ro¨saring, Lassa, southern Sweden, running dead straight for over 540 metres to a
group of Bronze, Iron and Viking Age burial mounds.
Following these discoveries ley hunters in Britain started to search out
examples of possible ‘spirit paths’ and ‘death roads’. Traditions of special roads
or paths dedicated to the transport of corpses for burial are numerous in the
British Isles. They are called variously funeral paths, corpse ways, burial roads
and coffin lines. The pages of obscure folklore books were scoured for
references to these medieval death roads with surprising results.
A notable belief was that if a corpse was carried over private land on its way
to burial, it automatically established a right of way, but this has no foundation
in English law. Ancient Roman law, however, prevented landowners from
excluding access to traditional burial places. In the Hebrides the peasants used
force to prevent any attempts to close the short cuts from the burial grounds to
the sea, which the dead were supposed to use when they went to bathe.
When corpses were brought from outlying hamlets and farms for burial in
the nearest parish church, the customary road or path taken by funerals was the
Church Road, or sometimes the Corpse Way or Corpse Gate. Other names
included Burial Lane and, in the case of an old corpse way on the outskirts of
Stratford-upon-Avon in Warwickshire, ‘Berrin Road’, a dialect corruption of
Burying Road. In the villages these roads may well have been proper paved
roads, but further afield the paths crossed over the fields and were never
ploughed over (see Plate 14). It was considered unlucky to use any other route
for funerals, as it was believed that to do so would prevent the deceased from
resting in the grave. Despite the great difficulties of traversing these sometimes
remote paths in times of appalling weather they were strictly adhered to. In
Brittany, rough tracks were made from the outlying farms to the villages so that
people might go to the church on Sunday or visit their dead in the graveyard. In
the course of time, proper roads were constructed and the old tracks were used
only for funeral processions. It was considered sacrilege to conduct the dead by
any other way than that by which their ancestors had gone before them, and it
was considered bad form for any landlord to prevent a funeral passing by the
sacred route.
English funeral paths have ghostly legends attached to them. The Lych Way
on Dartmoor was used to bear the dead for burial at Lydford until 1260, and
legend holds that ghostly trains of mourners
Plate 14: The funeral path from Wick to Pershore, Worcestershire. Part of the route across open fields
points towards the tower of Pershore Abbey.
could sometimes be seen walking along it. In a similar fashion the White
Stile Ghost is said to haunt a stile, which was once used to rest the coffin, on the
funeral path between Carharrack to Gwennap church in Cornwall. Supernatural
encounters are also reported on the corpse road from Arndale to Beetham church
in Cumbria where fairy folk could be seen on the Fairy Steps, a rock-cut flight of
steps on a funeral path (see Directory: The Fairy Steps). Tales such as these may
conceal the route of a forgotten corpse road or funeral path where the tradition is
long dead and the path no longer remains.
Other beliefs held that a corpse way should cross water on its route, either a
stream or a river, sometimes a ford, to ensure that the soul of the deceased would
be prevented from returning home after burial. It was believed that spirits could
not cross water. In the numerous examples so far collected and published in The
Ley Hunter since 1992, funeral paths invariably cross over at least one stream.
Although it is probable that a funeral path is almost certain to cross over a
stream at some point, the folk belief lends a plausible significance to this
common feature.
A study by Gabrielle Hawkes and Tom Henderson-Smith in the westernmost
tip of Cornwall revealed a number of examples of church paths criss-crossing the
Penwith landscape. These paths cross the fields from remote villages and
hamlets to the nearest parish church and are often punctuated by old stone stiles
between the fields and occasionally by an ancient stone cross. They are usually
straight, which will be of interest to ley hunters, and had a ritual significance in
the lives of local people who would walk them on their way to church for
christenings and funerals. Regular funeral processions took place between
Bosullow and Madron between which there is a straight route, taking in sections
of footpath and passing the Neolithic dolmen of Lanyon Quoit (see Directory: A
Churchway Ley).
Dutch, and some German, examples of death roads have been shown to be
dead straight and this may relate to the folk belief that spirits have a preference
for straight travel. This is certainly the case for German Geistewege or ghost
roads. A similar ‘ghostly’ line is said to link Brailes Hill in Warwickshire with
Bredon Hill in Worcestershire (both crowned with earthworks and mounds) over
a distance of 23 miles! A right of way was claimed over Brailes Hill because the
dead of Brailes were taken to be buried by that path. While this may be a folk
memory of some ancient sacred way, or even a spirit route, it is highly unlikely
that anyone would have been carried to burial over such a distance (see
Directory: Pathway to the Sun). In Folklore in Shakespeare Land (1930) J.
Harvey Bloom refers to three Warwickshire church roads which used to run
from Fulready, Thornhill and Upper Ettington to ‘the old church by the hall,
long since disused, in a perfectly straight line’ (my italics). My own recent
investigations have been unable to trace these paths.
Hawkes and Henderson-Smith, writing in The Ley Hunter, relate the
reminiscences of a life-long inhabitant of St Just in Cornwall, who recalled that
there were definite paths and routes from out-of-the-way places which were the
straightest, most direct way to carry the coffin up to the church or cemetery.
These paths were known as coffin lines.
STRAIGHT OR CROOKED?
Folklore references rarely describe the exact nature of the funeral paths they
mention, apart from one or two notable examples, and it is often impossible to
establish whether or not paths were straight, unless some trace still remains on
the ground. Ulrich Magin, writing in The Ley Hunter in 1993, recounts the folk
beliefs of the Wu¨ rttemberg area of Germany in which there is a brief mention
of Totenwege, or death roads, but no mention of their straightness or otherwise.
However, Magin eventually found further references to German death roads
which went by the names of Leichenweg (corpse road), Notweg, Kirchweg
(church road) and Helweg (road to Hell or Hel’s road). There were a number of
rules that had to be adhered to in the choice of route. These resulted from the
belief in the straight movement of ghosts as expressed in the ghost roads, and
included prohibiting the blocking of a death road. A woman who had blocked a
death road was condemned to haunt it after she died. Sometimes the corte` ge
had to use the same road that the deceased used to use to go to church. This
would appease the spirit of the deceased, as it would allow an easy journey
home. However, the emphasis was placed on detour, not directness, which
suggests that there was a hidden danger in such a journey. The road was believed
to take magical characteristics from the dead and could become haunted; the
road had to deviate to hinder the spirit’s return. In Hesse, for example, it was
traditionally the church road that was taken by funerals and not the shortest
route. But the detour may ultimately be based on the fear of ghosts and the ill
luck, pestilence and death they may bring, as evidenced by the avoidance of
passing over fertile land. It was also sometimes necessary to cross water on route
to the church in an attempt to prevent the spirit of the deceased from returning,
as we have already seen.
These beliefs may be the foundation of the numerous traditions already
discussed that necessitate carrying a coffin three times around the churchyard
before entering or perambulating an old stone or cross. As late as the 17th
century in England most country people believed in the reality of apparitions, the
existence of fairies and stories of witches. Fairies are particularly ancient in
origin and may represent a real memory of contact with Otherworld entities.
These spirits manifested themselves as dancing children frisking in the air, sky-
borne black dogs and the aforementioned corpse candles. Fear of these beings
was rife and all manner of protective measures were undertaken to ensure human
safety. In a similar fashion, the souls of the deceased were considered to be
equally dangerous if they were allowed to roam freely, and many precautions
were taken in the days following a death to ensure that the disembodied soul
would not return to haunt its earthly home.
The question of whether a death road should be straight or not is by no
means clear. Either way, the spirit dimension is well established, as was the
belief that the spirits of the dead have a preference for travelling in straight lines.
As a result some death roads are straight and others actively avoid straightness
by taking a winding, if not a circuitous route (as opposed to simply meandering).
Ghost roads, on the other hand, which are invariably invisible, are straight.
One particular type of ritual or symbolic pathway which might add weight to
the argument that spirits prefer to travel in straight lines, is that of the maze or
labyrinth. The classic labyrinth is a unicursal winding path that twists and turns
on itself in a series of coils to reach the centre. Where labyrinths exist in a
Christian context they were used by penitents to make a symbolic journey to
God. A famous example is the mosaic pavement labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral.
Hundreds of stone-built labyrinths exist on the shores of the Baltic Sea, dating
from at least the Middle Ages. Folklore records that superstitious Baltic
fishermen would enter and walk the labyrinth before setting out to sea, in the
belief that trolls and dangerous sprites would become ensnared in the maze and
not follow them to sea.
Similar concepts can be found in northern European lore where devices such
as ‘spirit traps’ were used to protect property against evil spirits. Spirit traps
consisted of red thread looped around a copper circle in a radial pattern and were
set up on pathways between a house and a cemetery to disrupt the passage of
sprites (see also Plate 12).
While there are examples of straight funeral paths in Britain, many recently
explored examples show variations. Often the general line of the route is straight
although the path itself winds around this general alignment, incorporating many
straight sections within it. It is possible that if the path was originally intended to
be straight, it may have subtly changed its course over the centuries due to
deviations to avoid waterlogged stretches, resulting in a wavy line. The
enclosure of agricultural land might well explain the odd dog-legs found in the
course of the path where field walls and boundaries were laid across the original
track. It is an interesting point that in later years Watkins himself conceded that
the old straight track could deviate in this way, although he remained adamant
that the marker points along its route were always in alignment.
A prime example of this type of path is the funeral path known as Burial
Lane in Worcestershire (see Directory: Burial Lane), which runs due south from
a hilltop just outside the tiny hamlet of Ham Green, next to a disused chapel. The
metalled road becomes a bridleway, which descends towards Feckenham in a
roughly straight line in the direction of the church. At the southern end the path
takes a curious curved course to cross the river at Feckenham before joining a
section
Plate 15: A section of straight paved path on the Coleford to Newland funeral path in The Forest of Dean,
Gloucestershire.
of metalled road into the village and past the churchyard. Other traditional
funeral paths take a more convoluted route but incorporate dead straight
sections. Such a path runs from Coleford (Plates 15 and 16). in the Forest of
Dean in Gloucestershire to the church at Newlands, the cathedral of the Forest,
and I traced and walked this path from near the centre of Coleford along a
straight footpath between suburban houses and gardens, across sections of
straight track over open fields and through woods to a road crossing and a series
of steps. A dead straight section of cobbled track rises to a high point and field
boundary before turning sharp left to descend via a paved hollow way into the
village of Newlands, ending at the lych gate in the churchyard wall. A straight
path then runs from the gate to the church. Another example, preserved in name
as Church Path and signposted as such, was shown to me by
Plate 16: A gate across the Coleford to Newland funeral path with an official road sign excluding the use of
motor vehicles.
Gerald Frawley (see Plate 17). It runs from Gotherington to Bishop’s Cleeve in
Gloucestershire (see Directory: Church Path).
Craig Wetherhill, writing in The Ley Hunter, describes a classic Cornish
coffin line known as the Zennor Churchway, which is still traceable along its
ten-mile course from St Ives to Pendeen. It crosses continuous patterns of small
stonewalled fields and is marked by dozens of 18th and 19th century stone stiles.
From the 9th century the route was marked by round-headed stone crosses, but
only a few remain today. The track is also marked by field names such as
Churchway, Way Field and Road Field. The earlier Cornish field name
Furrywidden is vorr an gwidn means ‘the white way’. The name churchway may
be a misnomer as the old track avoids the three parish churches it passes by as
much as 200 metres. In addition, only one stile on the route is equipped as a
coffin rest. Why then, asks Wetherhill, are there waymark crosses?
Plate 17: The funeral path between Gotherington and Bishop’s Cleeve,
Gloucestershire. The route, now a public footpath, is preserved across the cultivated fields. The path points
towards St Michael’s Church.
Were they signposts for the spirits of the dead? These crosses are older than
any of the churches on the route by at least two centuries and may indicate that
the path is significantly older too. Perhaps the church builders avoided placing
their churches on or near the path. Such caution was not expressed by the
Methodists in the 18th and 19th centuries, who built chapels directly on its path
in several places. While not dead straight by any means, the Zennor Churchway
follows a linear route with the type of minor deviations noted elsewhere.
Another type of funeral path, noted by researcher Phil Quinn, follows a
roughly clockwise circuit, in spite of easier and more direct routes being
available. One such path (Plate 18) can be followed in the parish of Hawkesbury
in South Gloucestershire (see Directory: The Soul’s Journey). The dead were
once carried from the deep combe of Kilcot, up to the top of the Cotswold ridge
where the coffin was rested on a long barrow before they continued south-west
down to Hawkesbury church. After the burial the funeral party made its way
Plate 18: A straight metalled section of the Hillesley to Hawkesbury funeral path, now used as a farm track.
home, not by the route they had come, but by one which completed a grand
circuit adding over a mile to their journey. This custom may reflect the belief,
suggested earlier, that the spirit of the deceased would not be able to follow the
funeral party home. Funeral parties carrying their dead from Oldmixon to
Bleadon church in the Mendips, followed a similarly convoluted route. Here a
short and direct route was avoided in favour of an alternative route in a straight
line sighted on Hutton church before turning sharp right, southwards up through
a steep gully to the summit of Bleadon Hill. From here the party headed south-
west down another steep gully to the church. Why, asks Quinn, choose a tiring
and tortuous clockwise route when a shorter anticlockwise one existed? Perhaps
the landowner’s fear that a funeral party could establish a right of way by
passing over private land ensured that there was only one available route.
However Quinn suggests that this pattern is too widespread for that argument to
hold up.
To add to the confusion over what type of path was the norm, Quinn notes
another funeral path at Hawkesbury in South Gloucestershire, of the linear type.
It runs from Hillesley, two miles from Hawkesbury (see Directory: The Soul’s
Journey). The path shares part of the route used by Kilcot funeral parties.
Although Watkins gave it only scant attention, the tradition of the church
path was cited by several members of the Straight Track Club during their
written ruminations on the nature and origins of the old straight track. In
Portfolio 14 (1931) Major F. C. Tyler mentions a good example of a church path
at Ashington in Sussex where an old right of way leads across fields from the
Manor House, past the Rectory, to the church, a hundred yards to the east of and
running parallel to the main road from London to the coast. In response Guy
Liddell cites the example of Hatch Beauchamp at Taunton in Somerset. The
church there is hidden behind the Manor House and is only approachable by
paths and a separate carriageway through the park. Rights of way across the
fields to the church also exist.
Barbara Carbonell writes that the name ‘church path’ referred to rights of
way across fields that were used by people going to church from outlying parts
of a parish. She mentions one in particular, Church Path at Bow in Devon, which
crosses water meadows a quarter of a mile from the church, and which was
maintained by the church wardens until recent times. She also notes another,
four miles away, known as Churchway, leading from three farms at the extreme
end of the parish to the main road leading to the church. She noted the tradition,
in Devon, that carrying a corpse along a path renders that path ‘a right of way’
for ever. She goes on to describe how a friend was approached by her tenant
farmer to ask her permission to carry the corpse of a dead relative to the church
across one of her fields in order to avoid a long and tiresome drive through the
lanes. Her friend was warned by her bailiff that to grant permission would
establish the route as a right of way. Despite the fact that this custom is not
enforceable under English law it was considered difficult to prevent the locals
from exercising this questionable right after the corpse had been carried over her
land and she had to refuse permission.
Post-war ley hunting had all but ignored this tradition, preferring to concentrate
more on the esoteric nature of energy lines, but by the late 1980s interest had
been revived and it was only a matter of time before Watkins’s leys came under
renewed scrutiny by ley hunters. A famous Watkins ley was re-examined by
veteran ley hunter, Paul Devereux. Discussed in some detail in The Old Straight
Track, the Sutton Walls ley in Herefordshire links Wellington church, Marden
church, the Iron Age hill fort of Sutton Walls and a churchyard cross at Sutton St
Nicholas church (see Directory: Sutton Walls Ley). The ley actually passes
through a visible ‘notch’ on the edge of Sutton Walls ramparts, and an outlying
mound. From this point the spire of Marden church and the tower of Wellington
church can be seen in clear alignment. A year after finding this alignment
Watkins was approached by the owner of Sutton Walls who told him that
ploughing had revealed an ancient track as a dark mark in the field, running up
to the mound at the edge of the camp. This old track (Devereux suggests that it
might be a medieval spirit way) which when projected to the south-east would
have passed not through Sutton St Nicholas church, but through its burial
ground, marked by a cross.
Another Watkins ley through Llanthony Abbey in the Black Mountains on
the Welsh border, has an ancient ‘hollow way’ aligning between the abbey and a
‘notch’ on the hilltop horizon, and the course of the alignment beyond the abbey
coincides with curious linear markings on the hillside beyond. This has yet to be
satisfactorily explained. The most prominent of these lines is a roughly paved
track which Devereux suggests might be a Welsh corpse road cutting straight
across the Black Mountains to Llanthony.
Other researched leys revealed hitherto unrecognised elements. A Somerset
ley originally found by Anthony Roberts and published in The Ley Hunter in
1971 claimed 17 mark points along a 26-mile long alignment. This would stretch
the credulity of the most hardened ley hunter, but the most convincing section of
this line is a path running through Monk’s Ford. This ancient straight track is
directly in line with a clearly defined track up the side of a hill about a mile
away. Devereux identifies this track as a corpse way used by the monks at
Glastonbury to carry coffins on a two-mile journey between Henton church,
through Yarley Cross to Wookey. Roberts also found the ‘diamond stone’ where
the coffins were rested on their journey. A mixedmarker ley at Saintbury, near
Broadway in the Cotswolds, incorporates a section of documented corpse road in
its alignment. Coffins were once rested at the cross before being carried along
the road leading up to St Nicholas’ church (see Directory: Saintbury Ley).
There is good reason for thinking that some of Watkins’s leys may well be
remnants of the type of medieval spirit paths we have been examining in this
chapter. Devereux suggests that Watkins’s leys were a combination of these
ghostly features in the landscape, a few genuine prehistoric alignments, and
plenty of simple chance alignments. He goes on to say that these spirit ways may
have been a medieval development of an idea that had an earlier form in the
Neolithic cursus – a type of linear earthwork which usually linked or was
aligned on burial mounds. Although difficult to prove, it is possible that the
cursus earthwork, besides being a sacred enclosure, may have marked a
processional way between long barrows connected with the rites of the passage
of the dead. Perhaps they were the Neolithic equivalent of the ceremonial funeral
path, which may have been accessible at certain specific points along the length
of the cursus, perhaps where it changed direction, as it does several times along
the six-mile Dorset cursus on Cranborne Chase.
Major Tyler, writing in Portfolio 11 of the Straight Track Club refers to J. H.
Hutton’s Assam megaliths which records the tradition of erecting alignments of
menhirs along a path. Usually these megaliths line the paths that approach a
village or some other frequented place. They appear to be associated with the
souls of the dead, since the cult of the dead is associated with the paths by which
the soul leaves and returns to its earthly habitation. Offerings for the dead are
placed along paths in the direction from which the village originally came and in
the Ao tribe the dead themselves are exposed along the paths.
It would be premature to suggest that the medieval death road is the sole
explanation for leys, as many straight landscape alignments clearly predate that
period, but it is certainly a prime candidate for many of the types of alignments
involving ancient churches that Alfred Watkins noted when he made his
discovery in 1921. This explanation may apply to short alignments in Britain,
Ireland and continental Europe, where the traditions of the death road and ghost
path have survived. But not every Watkinsian ley is a death road and not every
corpse path is a ley. The sacred path takes many forms, sometimes straightness
is important, other times it is not, but the unifying factor seems to be the spirit
element and the characteristics of spirit travel.
The early Christian missionaries who encountered the spirit beliefs and spirit
geography of pagan natives branded them as evil. The normal practice was
therefore to exorcise the dwelling places of pagan spirits. Although the early
churches were raised on the sites of former pagan worship, the ghosts of haunted
churchyards are not those of Christian spirits but of demons and apparitions that
inhabited burial places centuries before the missionaries arrived.
Ulrich Magin’s researches into German ghost roads have led him to examine
the ways in which Christian missionaries in Germany went about subduing
pagan practices in the early days of the Church. It is well documented that pagan
shrines and holy places were often destroyed by the Church or adapted to its own
purposes by attaching a saint’s name to them or incorporating them into
churches and other Christian structures. Another method, albeit previously
unnoticed, was the inclusion of pagan sites into Christian sacred alignments. In
Germany, in the 10th and 11th centuries, there was a deliberate practice of
laying out towns to a sacred geometric scheme. In this replanning, a cathedral
was built at the town centre, which was then surrounded with four smaller
churches to form a giant imaginary cross covering the whole city. The four
branches were engineered to mark the four points of the compass with the
cathedral axis oriented east–west, as is the Christian custom. Sometimes the
alignments between the four churches and the cathedral were invisible, other
times they were marked by roads. In Speyer, for instance, a road extends from
the cathedral, along its axis, and forms the city’s main street and ceremonial
way, the Maximilianstrasse (see Directory: Speyer Cathedral Ley).
This geometric pattern must have been considered important as it was also
used to overlay existing cities, which were completely rearranged to
accommodate these church lines. Magin suggests that perhaps pagan sites were
incorporated into these Christian alignments in order to exorcise them. He gives
a convincing example that links ancient and modern sites with burial places,
boundaries and folklore – a classic Watkinsian mix.
The langer Stein (or long stone) stands 3.7 m high at Saulsheim near Alzey,
and is a typical example of a Bronze Age menhir. Local legend says another
holed stone, called des Teufels Suppenschu¨ssel (the Devil’s soup bowl) once
stood in front of it, which may have been the base for a medieval wooden cross.
The langer Stein has been Christianised by the carving of a niche in its side
which once held a statue. Folklore records its location as the result of it having
been thrown by the Devil from Donnersberg. Since 1724 the stone marked the
thing or court of justice for local people and it also marked a parish boundary. A
gallows once stood by the menhir and several ancient roads including a main
Roman highway crossed at it. Magin suggests that the Christian Church must
have considered the stone to be of great pagan significance as it chose to build
the mountain church of Udenheim close by. This church stands on the site of a
Roman temple whose altar was incorporated into its walls and is linked to the
langer Stein by a straight path along the axis of the church. Along this path lie
Roman and preRoman burial grounds. Archaeologists consider the alignment to
be deliberate.
Magin speculates that the association of Christian lines with pagan sites, as
well as with gallows sites and pagan legends, led to the belief, in some parts of
Germany at least, in straight ghost roads. Whatever its possible origins in the
distant past, the tradition of straight roads for spirits became culturally associated
with the Christian creation of church lines and alignments to pagan sites. The
folk concept of the spirit path, opines Magin, is the result of a long struggle
between pagan and Christian ideas. Straightness was sacred to both and Magin
suggests that the Christian church lines came from the idea of reserving a special
straight road for the passage of spirits, one set apart from the profane and
winding roads of country folk. He sees superstition leading to the belief that
these old alignments were ghost roads, for evil spirits only, despite their original
intention of enhancing the power of a cathedral and symbolising the spread of
Christian holy spirit and influence throughout a town or city.
The unravelling of the straight line enigma is a difficult one, crossing as it
does cultural and temporal boundaries. In all the cases discussed in the preceding
chapters the one constant unifying feature of all our examples is the spirit
element, and it is from this that everything else follows. From the demotion of
sacred pathways into utilitarian roads, the recording of celestial solar and lunar
alignments via stone rows and megalithic monuments, the scratching of dead
straight lines across miles of South American desert, the encountering of ghostly
apparitions on lonely European trackways to the bizarre rules applied to the
transportation of corpses to burial, we counter humankind’s lingering obsession
with the straight line. None of these alone is a ley, but a ley can be all of these
things. By his simple discovery of the old straight track in the Herefordshire By
his simple discovery of the old straight track in the Herefordshire year-old quest
for the meaning of the archaic landscape line, a quest which continues to puzzle
and fascinate each new generation of ley hunters. The feature of ley hunting lies
hidden away in obscure chapters of folklore books and local history studies.
Tantalising snippets of information, references to funeral routes, ghost tales and
traditional customs can lead the enthusiastic ley hunter to the discovery of an
ancient track or pathway still surviving in the countryside. By map reading and
by walking the old routes and observing the surrounding landscape it is still
possible to reconstruct the old spirit paths and rediscover the real ‘ley of the
land’.
CHAPTER 8
‘Ley hunting gives a new zest to field rambles, and the knowledge of the straight
ley provides new eyes to an eager observer.’ Alfred Watkins, Early British
Trackways
Alfred Watkins laid down meticulous rules for ley hunters in his books, and
provided advice to would-be ley hunters. These can be a useful tool for the
modern ley hunter to emphasise the pitfalls and blind alleys that await the
enthusiastic novice, and also because these early methods may prove helpful.
Remember one thing though: leave your dowsing rods at home – this is ley
hunting in the true Watkinsian tradition and must be treated as an activity
incorporating reference research, mapwork and fieldwork.
Watkins was convinced of the existence of prehistoric alignments in the
landscape, and his advice to ley hunters derives from his conviction of the
absolute precision of the ancient surveyors. Fieldwork is essential: ‘It is
surprising how many mounds, ancient stones and earthworks are to be found
which are not marked, even on the large-scale maps’, he says. This observation
still holds true today, and is particularly relevant since modern updated as maps
show even fewer prehistoric features than they did in Watkins’s time.
These were the most important markers, Watkins claimed. From their
summits the surveyors and later travellers could spot the next marker point and
make for it, eventually creating the tracks that run between them. This class of
mark point could include Neolithic long barrows, trapezoidal mounds of earth,
chalk or stone, which sometimes contained stone passages and chambers in
which the bones of the dead were interred. Similarly, he included Bronze Age
round barrows. These were usually smaller than long barrows and often
contained only one burial crouched at the centre. Both types of mounds were
frequently sited on the ‘false crests’ of hills such that they would be visible in
silhouette against the sky when viewed from the valleys below and thus would
make excellent sighting points. These can often be found on the Ordnance
Survey map marked ‘tumulus’or‘tumuli’.
Another class of marker is the single standing stone. Standing stones would
have played a similar role to the later milestone, brought to England by the
Romans, in that they marked the route of the old straight track. Standing stones
can vary in height from the foot-high unnamed and unworked mark stone often
found lying beside the road, to the colossal 22-feet tall Devil’s Arrows in
Yorkshire. Watkins suggested that such stones were placed at the crossing points
of two or more tracks. Furthermore, he suggested that the crossroads mark stone
might well have evolved into the Christian wayside cross which would have
ensured the survival of the ley marker to the present day.
Watkins always maintained that leys ran between what he called initial
sighting points, that is from one prominent hill to another, although sometimes
they ran from a holy well to a hill or vice versa. All the markers between these
initial points would invariably be artificial and laid out by the ancient surveyors.
Sometimes holy wells can be found close to or in the precincts of ancient
churches, which may suggest that the siting of the church may have been
influenced by the location of an older holy shrine.
Watkins found that many camps (now more frequently referred to as hill
forts) were constructed at the crossings of two or more tracks. To be more
precise, he said they were built in the angles formed by the alignments. Time and
again, Watkins observed that his leys ran along the banks and ditches of hill forts
rather than through their centres. Hill forts date from the Iron Age and are
usually found on high ground, often on the summits of prominent hills, and can
vary in complexity and size. Essentially they are areas of flat ground defined by
banks and ditches which have been identified by archaeologists as having some
defensive purpose (hence the use of the word ‘fort’). Watkins claimed that older
mounds were incorporated into the later camps thus preserving the earlier ley
markers.
Beacon fires on prominent hilltop locations were once traditionally lit on
Midsummer’s Day and Beltane. This practice continued until a century ago in
Herefordshire and was adopted by Watkins as a possible survival of ancient
sighting practices involved with the laying out and maintenance of the old
straight track. Although the fires may no longer have been lit, their memory is
preserved in names such as Bell or Beltane Hill, May Hill and Midsummer Hill.
Watkins found beacon pits on several hills carrying that tradition; the fire or
smoke would have provided the ley men and travellers with a clear sighting
point along the track, he surmised.
There were several other types of landscape feature, which Watkins adopted
as confirmation points along his leys. These included old crossroads, fords,
hollow ways (sunken roads with high banks on either side) and fragments of
straight tracks and roads which followed the exact course of a ley. Although the
roads now radiating from crossroads do not preserve the course of the old
straight tracks, the crossing points still preserve the old route, he surmised.
These were often marked by mark stones and later wayside crosses. Again,
ancient place names often confirm the validity of the mark point. Crossroads
were once considered special places and treated with reverence. They were
liminal spaces – a no-man’s land – the sites of gibbets and gallows and where
suicides were often buried. Watkins claimed that traces of old straight tracks
could be seen at fords where they crossed rivers and streams. Notches on the
ridges of hills where the old hollow ways crossed over were prominent sighting
points too.
The most contentious sighting points are churches and castles. Clearly these
are not prehistoric, but their recurring frequency on Watkins’s leys suggests
some kind of connection. The class of churches which were acceptable as ley
points were pre-Reformation structures dating from Anglo-Saxon foundations,
through Norman and early Gothic to the time of Henry VIII. Drawing on
documented sources and folk memory, Watkins suggested that ancient churches
were invariably built on sites of earlier pagan sanctity. A Papal directive from
AD601 clearly instructs Christian missionaries to Britain to acquire pagan sites of
worship for the new religion to ease the transition from paganism to Christianity.
Examples of this practice can be found all over Britain: the ruined church at
Knowlton in Dorset erected at the centre of a Neolithic henge (a circular
enclosure surrounded by a bank and ditch); the church at Rudston in Yorkshire
built adjacent to the tallest standing stone in England; and the church at Alfriston
in Sussex (the Cathedral of the Downs), placed astride an ancient mound. There
are many more. Not all churches, though, can be said to be so sited, and it is an
interesting observation that Watkins noted many examples of sections of old
straight trackways and leys passing through churchyards and burial grounds
rather than the churches themselves.
STRAIGHT ROADS
Watkins urges the ley hunter to keep his or her eyes open when cycling or
driving along a straight stretch of road, and to look out for any hill point or
mound, church or castle on a bank, which is not only straight in front, but
remains fixed in the same position as you travel. In some areas of the country,
mapwork can reveal stretches of straight road that align accurately on ancient
churches that might indicate the presence of a Watkins-type ley; I located three
such road alignments in Gloucestershire.
There is a remarkable alignment near the village of Withington, some six and
a half miles south-east of Cheltenham. Driving towards Withington on the A436
between Andoversford and Kilkenny, on top of the Cotswolds, the road suddenly
straightens out and runs across country in a dead straight line. At the point where
the road dips into the village and on a direct line of sight is the squat tower of St
Michael’s and All Angels church. The straight section of road is approximately
two miles long. Curiously, it diverges from the alignment (out of sight from the
upper and middle sections of the road) and skirts around the churchyard.
Prompted by this discovery I attempted to project this alignment in both
directions to see if any other sighting points or markers remained on the ground.
Heading northwards the line passes over Cleeve Hill, one of the prominent peaks
on the Cotswold escarpment, but unfortunately the line misses the banks of an
Iron Age hill fort and the curious ring earthwork on the lower slopes of the hill.
It does, however, pass through the summit of the hill (now marked by a trig
point bollard). In the other direction the line passes through St Michael’s church,
close to the summit of Chedworth Beacon and on to St Mary’s church at
Barnsley. Not a classic ley by Watkins’s standards, but a curiosity, a fragment of
old straight track running on a line drawn between two prominent hills.
The Romans were very active in the Cotswolds and the existence of any
straight sections of road not marked on the map as ‘Roman road’ or ‘Course of
Roman road’ are probably Roman in origin or possibly the result of the
enclosures. There are the remains of two Roman villas close by. If the road were
Roman in origin it is a strange coincidence that St Michael’s was built on the
line of the road. Perhaps the church occupies an earlier sacred site? This is where
ley hunting takes you into the library in search of local history and archaeology.
In isolation this occurrence is merely interesting, but it is not the only
example I have found in the area. The B-road between Northleach and
Aldsworth in Gloucestershire, winds its way through the village of Eastington
and skirts the edge of Lodge Park in a straight line of no obvious significance
(though probably the result of the enclosures). The road then takes a sharp left
and then bends on to a dead straight section on high ground that points directly
to the tower of St Bartholomew’s church on the brow of a hill in Aldsworth. The
straight section of road is about a mile long, but abruptly ends at a T-junction
shortly before the village. The road then drops into a hollow and down into the
village. It does not go to the church. Like the Withington line this deviation in
the course of the road is not visible from the upper reaches of the road.
Projecting this alignment on the map in both directions found it passing through
nothing of significance apart from a crossroads on the old Salt Way some seven
and a half miles away from Alsworth and, to the south-east, through the edge of
Dean Camp in a suitably Watkinsian manner (through the edge of the ramparts),
a mile from the church.
Another alignment, which will be familiar to regular users of Ermine Street,
the stretch of Roman road between Gloucester and Cirencester, is that of the
road and the tower of Cirencester’s church. Between Birdlip and Cirencester it
consists of several straight sections of road linked together. The final stretch
south of Daglingworth is aligned on the church tower, a prominent landmark in
the lowlying land around Cirencester. Within the town itself, Tower Street aligns
to the church tower though it does not run to the church. It also lies adjacent to
the site of the Roman forum. As in the previous two examples, Ermine Street
diverges from the alignment at the point where the road begins to descend the
Cotswolds. Outside the town again the Fosse Way is also aligned to the church
tower from the west. The church tower would have been a convenient sighting
point for the Roman surveyors in the laying out of these two major routes,
however it wasn’t there when the roads were built. The church, dedicated to St
John the Baptist, is often referred to as the Cathedral of the Cotswolds and is the
largest parish church in the county apart from Tewkesbury Abbey and larger
than three of England’s cathedrals. The earliest surviving building dates from the
Norman period.
Similar patterns of road and church alignment can be found on a map, but it
is only by visiting the sites that the true nature of the alignments can be
appreciated. The examples given above are probably Roman roads; the roads
around Cirencester certainly are, but the survival of the others is curious in the
present-day random system of winding lanes. At the very least they can give a
flavour of what Watkins must have envisaged when he discovered the ley system
and provide a great opportunity for a quick ley hunt.
Modern ley hunters are more likely to start their search for ancient trackways
in the local reference library. The local studies collection is a good starting point,
though these days there are many fine studies of local village histories which
often contain obscure references to old funeral paths and church paths.
Infrequently, if ever, will you find references to leys – so don’t look for them.
Once you have tracked down a reference, a good place to start is the local
County Records Office, where it is usually possible to consult the old tithe maps
which were drawn up at the time of the Enclosure Acts. Sometimes the names of
the old tracks are preserved as well as significant features that may have since
disappeared. Also try the local Victoria County History as you may find a
reference or two there.
Armed with this information, it is time to consult the Ordnance Survey map.
The older versions of these are preferable as they often contain a wealth of detail
missing from the modern maps and will show areas of the countryside which are
now developed, and old footpaths that have disappeared. Search out local
secondhand bookstores as you can often pick up old maps very cheaply; try to
trace the old funeral paths or corpse ways. This can often be a frustrating task as
the old route will not be named and there may be several possible footpath routes
between the locations you have found in the books. In the absence of any written
record of the route go for the most direct. This will invariably run from a village
without a church, or with a recent church, to the village which once held the
burial right. Once you have found a likely contender, get out into the field.
The Ley Hunter has been publishing reports of ley hunting activity for a few
years now and it is apparent that no two tracks are the same. Some useful hints
can be gleaned from them. You will also see from the examples given in the
Directory of Ley Lines that visiting the sites, talking to locals and checking the
documented history and archaeology of the sites can lead to some interesting
discoveries. One thing is clear: landscape lines come in many shapes and forms
and have their origins in historic times as well as the distant past, and as we have
seen, some may even crossover and contain elements from different periods. The
types of old trackways, alignments and leys that can be found are many and
varied. Not all of them are classic Watkinsian leys, but they indicate a preference
to construct religious and ceremonial tracks and sight lines in a linear fashion,
which may have their roots in the ancient beliefs in the spirits of dead ancestors
and the manner in which they were thought to travel. These can loosely be
grouped under the following headings and examples of each type of landscape
line can be found in the Directory at the back of this book.
Watkinsian leys
The classic ley is usually first found on the map, but should be followed up
by field and archive research to verify the significance, if any, of the alignment.
Astronomical alignments
Corpse roads are often found in the mountainous northern parts of England
and Scotland. They are usually several miles long and follow arduous and
sometimes dangerous courses over hills and mountains. They are rarely straight.
(See Plate 19.)
Plate 19: A paved section of the Arndale to Beetham corpse road in Cumbria on its approach to the Fairy
Steps (See The Fairy Steps in the Directory of Ley Lines).
Funeral paths are numerous in the Midlands of England and references to
them can be found in local libraries, on old maps and in the many books now
available on village histories. Collect as much information as you can before
setting out. Unlike the conventional Watkins ley, most of these paths can still be
walked. They are usually preserved as public rights of way, although over the
intervening few hundred years parts of the original routes have sometimes been
moved making it difficult to check sight lines and straightness. Always get
permission before following any track that is not marked as a right of way.
These are often preserved routes or alignments of varying ages which link
prominent religious structures, usually churches, with important secular sites.
Classic examples can be found in the old centres of Oxford, Bristol, London and
York amongst others. Also look for astronomical alignments of such paths and
tracks.
Those with an interest in archaeology can often find references and articles
describing discoveries of ancient trackways, ceremonial roads and linear features
connected with burial mounds, and earthen enclosures such as henges in the
archaeological press. Popular journals such as Current Archaeology, British
Archaeology and Archaeology Ireland are good sources of potential material.
Ghost sightings in isolation along stretches of old straight track or road are
interesting but not particularly significant. However, detailed local research can
reveal the incidence of hauntings, folk tales of ghostly journeys and paranormal
events along stretches of old tracks and roads, and when these are found in
combination with known ancient tracks and standing stones, mounds and holy
wells they can lead to some interesting discoveries.
From the above examples it can be seen that modern ley hunting
encompasses a wide range of disciplines; the modern antiquarian needs to be
archaeologist, local historian, archivist, walker, mathematician and surveyor.
The range of possibilities for the ley hunter are wide enough to accommodate
any enthusiasm, be it for megalithic sites, walking in spectacular or forgotten
landscapes or simply retreading the steps of Alfred Watkins.
Walking the old paths can be a revelation. Old references to a paved funeral
path can be confirmed by finding the old cobbles underfoot. Some old routes are
named, while some sections may have been unused for years. Take plenty of
photographs, note any features not shown on the map which may be significant,
check the local history collections at the library and talk to any local people you
might meet, but be wary of mischievous locals who can mislead you. Finally,
keep a look out for other sighting points, which may have been part of an
original ley before it was adopted for a funeral route.
When researching in thinly populated areas with a wealth of prehistoric
features, look out for alignments to significant horizon features or other visible
standing stones and mounds. These may indicate astronomical alignments,
another class of line that Watkins recognised. Armed with a map and compass it
is possible to check these alignments for any astronomical significance.
For a guide to Watkins’s own brand of ley hunting, the best book to refer to
is his own The Old Straight Track. This is still in print and has the lost charm of
times gone forever. It is the best guide to leys in the Welsh border region and
many of Watkins’s famous leys can still be traced and walked. Watkins’s
language is sometimes laboured but he writes with great enthusiasm and it is
difficult not to be drawn into his lost world. His later Ley Hunter’s Manual
condenses the essentials of early ley hunting into a concise handbook, but is no
longer in print. For a practical, down-to-earth guide to the intricacies of map
work and Watkinsian ley hunting, the best available book is The New Ley
Hunter’s Guide by Paul Devereux. This contains practical tips for working with
OS maps and for accurately transferring plotted leys from one OS sheet to
another. It also has a section of leys that Devereux and Ian Thompson first
published in The Ley Hunter’s Companion (now out of print) with additional
information that reinterprets the alignments in the light of more recent theories
as to the nature of ley lines.
For further examples of spirit paths, Paul Devereux’s Fairy Paths and Spirit
Roads collates both his own and others’ research into otherworldly routes from
around the world.
There are numerous books covering the energy line school of thought that
touch on leys, but all are necessarily subjective accounts of the author’s
experiences and not the best practical guides. The most level-headed of the
bunch is Ley Lines – Their Nature and Properties by the late J. Havelock Fidler.
In it the author manages to fuse his own dowsing experiments with map work
and a little archaeoastronomy in an attempt to interpret and understand the
numerous alignments of standing stones, though only in a remote part of western
Scotland.
The important thing to remember about ley hunting is that it is a participation
sport. In order to understand the nature of these alignments and old tracks you
have to get out and walk them. Simply reading about leys will get you no closer
to understanding them. Walking is an essential element as the view from the
ground can show you much more than the map. Keep your eyes open. In a
landscape as heavily farmed and developed as Britain the remains of the old
straight tracks and ancient pathways are few and far between, but sufficient
tantalising clues remain to make ley hunting an exciting and rewarding pastime.
Get hunting!
ENDWORD
By the late 1980s, the straight track had for many become just a succession
of false trails, a waste of time and effort. Alfred Watkins had always disliked the
idea of believing anything that could not properly be explained. However, his
theory became associated with crackpots and fanatics, and has still not received
the recognition it deserves, although the work of Paul Devereux has been
instrumental in prompting the need for reassessment.
Today, ley hunters are perhaps more circumspect than their colleagues in the
Straight Track Club decades before. The exigencies of modern life and the
destruction of huge tracts of evidence by successive agricultural policies,
vandalism, town planning and heritage bodies has made ley hunting difficult,
complicated and, in some areas, plain impossible. Other evidence, however, is
available, and certainly the attitude of the archaeological establishment has
moved from intolerance to cautious attentiveness. A great deal of examination
and assessment has taken place and, ‘unhampered by other theories’ (not least
because no one theory is dominant), it is again possible to continue the work of
Watkins, his colleagues in the Straight Track Club, and a handful of other
pioneers since. Most importantly, there is a new environmental awareness,
which at least makes it difficult for officialdom to dismantle sites and areas of
great archaic and archaeological value. Today’s ley hunter is by nature
somewhere between a conservationist and an environmental warrior.
During my time as editor of The Ley Hunter was asked on numerous
occasions by people from as far afield as Australia and the United States, as well
as from all over Britain and Europe, if I can supply them with a map of the ley
lines in their area. Each time I had to say no. Such maps do not exist. There are,
of course, local studies for some areas, and there are one or two books that
describe the more famous alignments, but as there are as many different
interpretations of leys as there are ley hunters it is very difficult to make an
objective assessment of any of them let alone catalogue and map them.
This book is an attempt to clarify the confusion over the interpretation of
Watkins’s original vision and to place ley hunting back on a firm footing. I don’t
have all the answers and there is much more work to be done, but this book sets
out to define the parameters of ley hunting (and they are pretty wide) in order to
give the would-be ley hunter the tools needed to do the job. The future of the
subject rests in the hands of those who want to get out in the field to find and
walk the old trackways themselves. Learn about your immediate vicinity and its
history; take a hike and keep your eyes open – there’s a lot to see and discover.
Where do I go from here, you may ask. This is straightforward: get involved.
The Society of Ley Hunters is an organisation that was set up to bring ley
hunters together from all over the country to share research and information
about leys and related subjects. Participation and membership are open to all.
They can be contacted by writing to the Membership Secretary, The Society of
Ley Hunters, 7 Mildmay Road, Romford, Essex RM7 7DA. The Society web
site can be accessed at www.leyhunter.com. The Society publishes a regular
newsletter and holds two public meetings a year. This information is correct at
the time of writing.
A DIRECTORY OF LEY LINES
This is a collection of alignments of the types described in this book. It
includes some of the leys discovered by Alfred Watkins, some of a similar
nature that have been found by modern ley hunters inspired by Watkins’s vision,
astronomical alignments, acknowledged prehistoric alignments of sites and
stones, sacred pathways, funeral routes, death routes and spirit paths.
It is not an exhaustive list, that would be an impossible task, but it is
designed to give a flavour of the many types of alignments that have at one time
or another come under the heading of ‘ley lines’. From this list it is clear that
there is no one single type of landscape line that can definitively be called a ley,
but these examples demonstrate mankind’s continual obsession with the straight
line or path in the landscape.
I have selected examples that take in some of the more famous prehistoric
sites in Britain. I have also chosen examples from areas which are easily
accessible and some from wilder places for those who enjoy combining their
interest in megalithic sites with walking in open countryside. In addition I have
included a number of examples from Ireland, Malta and mainland Europe which
show that ley hunting is not confined to Britain.
The list is a random one with the type of alignment classified by an
identifying icon at the top of the page. The 1:50,000 Ordnance Survey sheet
numbers are given for the British and Irish examples. I hope the following will
encourage the curious to visit and experience these tracks and places and perhaps
even to take up ley hunting for themselves.
KEY
The ley was first noted by Eugene Zimmer and was published in The Ley Hunter
no. 129 in 1988.
The village of Aubigny au Bac is situated on the River Sense´ e near Douai
in northern France. The ley runs roughly south-east to north-west through a
chapel outside Aubigny au Bac (1), the village church (2), a prehistoric menhir
at Brunemont (3), and church at Arleux (4), ending at St Martin’s church at
Bellone (5).
Zimmer calculates the bearing of this ley to lie within those given for the
setting sun on the Celtic Quarter Day of Beltane, the spring festival. Viewed
from the menhir, the sun sets on Beltane on the horizon at the foot of the church
at Bellone (6).
The dedication of the church gives a clue to the validity of the alignments. St
Martin was the Merovingian’s most revered saint and his dedication was
frequently used for the Christianisation of former pagan sites of worship. The
church itself is small and built in a Romanesque style, confirming its antiquity.
Further, the name Bellone is derived from Belenus, the Celtic sun god, whose
feast day is none other than Beltane (1 May), all of which suggests that St
Martin’s was built on a prehistoric site probably as old as the menhir at
Brunemont.
The alignment has been preserved and extended during the medieval period
by the establishment of other churches and chapels.
In the region of Douai in northern France, the Belgian ley researcher Eugene
Zimmer has identified a number of classic ‘holy hill’ alignments which are both
astronomical and topographical in nature. Douai is situated 100 km south-east of
Calais and the hills in question have churches at their summits, one of them in
the village of Oisy-le-Verger (1).
Four megalithic sites (three menhirs and one dolmen) and two holy hills lie
close together on the borders of the River Sense´ e. One of the hills has a
pronounced shape and is crowned by the chapel of Notre Dame de Montaigu (2).
Zimmer has noticed that in many areas where such ‘holy hill’ alignments can
be found, the alignments of sites usually point towards the local summits, but
always in solar, and sometimes lunar, directions.
Holy hill alignments around Voisy-le-Verger identified by Eugene Zimmer.
Malta and its neighbouring Mediterranean island are famous for their
prehistoric megalithic temples, and it would appear that some of these were
deliberately aligned. In The Ley Hunter no. 113, David Olmen described two
such alignments on the island of Gozo, with a common origin at Ta’ Cenc
dolmen (1), a complex of megalithic structures, some of which have been
compared to megalithic gallery graves in Sardinia and Italy.
A straight line links this site with the Ggantija Temple (3), another complex
dating from 3800 BC, consisting of two temples within a common boundary wall.
Some of the stones are up to 18 ft high. The ground plans of both temples have
been compared to the squatting ‘goddess’ figurines that have been found on the
island. The site that sits between them is Xewkija church (2), with the third
largest dome in Christendom. The present church is modern but is built on the
site of earlier Christian structures and a large dolmen, last recorded in the 17th
century, which was used as the foundations of the church.
The second alignment runs from Ta’ Cenc to Tal Qighan (4), which consists
of two groups of megaliths lying on both sides of the road and may once have
been part of a temple. The line ends at Qala menhir (5), a 13 ft high standing
stone which is now surrounded by modern houses.
cairn (6) was destroyed at the turn of the century. A further 450 yards on is
Nether Largie mid-Cairn (7), 100 ft across and also considered to be a royal
tomb. Two hundred yards on is another huge regal tomb, Nether Largie North
(8), dating from 3000 . The final tomb on the line is Glebe Cairn (9), once the
BC
First noted by the European ley hunter and artist John Palmer, this ley runs
from San Miguel chapel (1) and is aligned on the summit of Tura de San
Jeronimo (5), the highest peak in the Montserrat massif.
On its way it passes through Montserrat monastery (2). A chapel was erected
at this site in AD880 at the place where a revered 12th century image of the
Virgin Mary apparently refused to move during an attempt by the Bishop of Vic
to remove it to Manresa from its hiding place in the mountains. This strange
phenomenon was considered a sign and a church was subsequently founded
there. It was replaced in AD976 by a Benedictine convent, which was later sacked
by the French in the Peninsular War. The present building is modern.
Beyond the monastery the line takes in the church of San Antonio (3) and the
hermitage of Ermita San Jeronimo (4) on its way to the mountain peak.
As an aside, Palmer notes a curious feature that is also associated with some
English leys and some Bolivian straight tracks – that of the parallel alignment; a
line drawn through the nearby chapels of Santa Cecilia and Los Apostles runs
parallel to the Montserrat ley.
This German ley, in Palatinate, first noted by the ley researcher Ulrich Magin
and now marked by medieval buildings, may have had its origins in prehistory as
Palatinate was once thick with menhirs.
The ley runs due east–west and is aligned on the Kalmit mountain (8), the
highest peak in Palatinate. It starts in the east as Speyer cathedral (1). This site
has been in use as a sacred place for at least 2,000 years – the Romans referred
to it as Civitas Nementum (deriving from the Celtic nemet, meaning sacred or
holy place). The present cathedral dates from 1061, but there has been a church
there sinceAD360. Before that it was the site of a pagan Roman temple dedicated
to the Celtic goddess Nantosvelta.
A straight road ( 2), following the alignment, connects the cathedral with the
city gate (3), which dates from the 13th century. Onwards the ley passes over
Dudenhofen church (4), Hanhofen church (5) and on to Hanhofen Castle (6), the
site now only preserved by the moat that once surrounded it.
The next site is an old crossroads ( 7) of indeterminate date, but one of the
roads is referred to as Hohlweg, similar to hollow (sunken) roads that are found
in Britain, which could mean the crossing is at least medieval.
Finally, the ley terminates at Kalmit ( 8), a rocky peak that has no known
sacred associations, but acts in the same way as one of Watkins’s initial points.
TWO IRISH LEYS A sunrise line and a classic ley at Lough Gur