Tales Of Dartmoor

One dark night a moorman was riding his pony homewards from Widecombe fair. To say he was in good spirits was a slight understatement, he had taken some bullocks and made a fair price for them so there was coin in his pocket and whisky in his belly. A pale …

Now depending on who you ask, Cutty Dyer is either a water sprite or he is an Ogre. What is not in dispute is that he lives in the river Yeo or to call it by its modern name: the Ashburn, and that he is one thoroughly unpleasant person. Cutty …

Many years ago there was a headmaster named Jeremiah Toope who was in charge of Ashburton Grammar School. Now, local legend gives no explanation as to why but for some reason he was suddenly dismissed from his post. As can be imagined, this was a devastating thing to happen and …

Crazywell Pool, it’s very name suggests that something is amiss or else why should a harmless pool of water earn such weird name? Yes if you read the old Dartmoor legend books plenty of weird things have happened there. Some will have you know that it’s dark waters are bottomless …

Now there is one thing that all the moor folk know about the piskies and that is that they work very hard at being neat and tidy and expect that everybody else should be such as industrious and hard working. Some will have it that at night some of the …

In 1642 King Charles I raised the royal standard in Nottingham, sent orders to his supporters and started to quell the rebellion of the parliamentary forces and the civil war began. On the 7th of February 1643 a body of parliamentary forces stopped at Chagford for overnight billeting. It is …

Centuries ago their lived a man called Sir William Kingdon who today has become completely lost in the mists of time. It may well be that he was related to Nicholas de Kingdom who along with Lady Dyonisia owned Skerraton manor in the 1200s. What is known is that during …

It is not very often that ‘new’ legends are found, especially ones that have been handed down through the generations but Vic Cowling has sent me another version of the Brentor story. Below are the contents of his email: “There is an older legend about Brentor which was told by …

Way back in the days when roads were few on Dartmoor an old moorman from Hannaford was travelling home on his pony across Sherberton Common. The day was drawing to a close and a stiff breeze was blowing down from the north. As he approached the little track which winds …

“On the very edge Of the vast moorland, startling every eye, A shape enormous rises! High it towers Above the hill’s bold brow, and seen from far, Assumes the human form; a granite god, – To whom in days long flown, the suppliant knee In trembling homage bowed. The hamlets …