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Uncovering Glastonbury’s Supernatural Secrets – An Uncanny Journey into Paranormal, Mythical, and Folkloric Wonder

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Glastonbury, a town steeped in mysticism and ancient folklore, served as the backdrop for a recent winter expedition that united bloggers, podcasters, and fans of the paranormal. Our journey began at the venerable George and Pilgrim pub, an atmospheric establishment echoing with centuries of history.

George and Pilgrim Pub: An Eerie Prelude

Nestled in the heart of Glastonbury, the George and Pilgrim pub proved to be the ideal starting point for our supernatural escapade.

(George & Pilgrim Pub Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

The George and Pilgrim pub is one of the best surviving pre-reformation inns in England, one that has provided food, drink, and accommodation to pilgrims and visitors to Glastonbury for centuries. Its exact age is unknown, but it is known to have been rebuilt by Abbot Selwood in around 1455 when he oversaw an expansion of the abbey. The building itself comprises three stone storeys with a façade that resembles a small castle with battlements.  There are three panels over the front entrance. Two of these contain the coat of arms of the abbey and King Edward IV while the third is blank. This possibly contained the white rose of York and was tactfully removed when King Henry VII came to the throne. The inn was built to accommodate wealthy pilgrims visiting the nearby abbey.  The pub is also linked to the abbey by an underground tunnel that begins in the cellar and leads to a point within the abbey walls. It is thought that pilgrims could have used the tunnel to gain secret access to the abbey. Parts of the interior still have the original oak beam ceiling and stone slab flooring. Early carvings, figurines, and statues are still in place in the bar area. The interior is full of historical character, from its beamed ceilings, dark oak furniture, and huge fireplace.

As we convened, exchanging greetings, the air buzzed with anticipation. The pub, with its creaking floorboards and shadowy corners, set the stage for a day filled with eerie adventures.

St Margaret’s Chapel: A Sanctuary of Secrets

(St Margaret’s Chapel. Image Source: ©E.Holohan)

Our first destination to beckon us was St Margaret’s Chapel, a hidden gem of Glastonbury, a retreat away from the bustle of Magdalene Street. This sacred space exuded an otherworldly energy of peace and tranquillity. Built around 1250-70 and founded by Abbot Michael, it was first established as a pilgrim hospital with a chapel at the east end.  At this time, it was known as the Hospital of St Mary Magdalene. Tired and hungry pilgrims were fed, washed, and accommodated here while visiting the abbey to view its shrines and relics. It was originally a long infirmary hall with cubicles on either side. The chapel was dedicated to St Margaret who was a Scottish Queen and Saxon princess. The chapel itself has a barrel roof and a now fully restored bell-cote.

By the early 15th Century, the large hall was replaced with two rows of alms-houses used for accommodating aging, poor parishioners. These were in use until the 1950s when one row was finally demolished. The site was rescued by the Quest Community and the Mary and Margaret Charity, who restored it and now care for it.

Here we explored the chapel with its glittering icons and spent some time in quiet contemplation in the gardens before moving on to the next destination on our journey.

Chalice Well: Nourishing the Spirit

(Chalice Well. Image Source: ©E.Holohan)

A pilgrimage to Glastonbury wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the Chalice Well, a site brimming with symbolism and ancient charm.

The Chalice Well, lying sheltered between Chalice Hill and the Tor, is an area of gardens arranged around a series of fountains and water features. It was the main supply of fresh water in Glastonbury until the 19th Century and 25,000 gallons of water flow there every day. This holy well is also known as the “Red Spring” or “Blood Spring” due to the red iron deposits the water leaves on everything it touches.

The site is ancient, with a 1961 excavation bringing up Roman pottery and flint. The stump of a yew tree dated to the Roman period was even found in the deep excavation. Yews still grow at the Chalice Well today and have a strong association with the ancient Druids and also Christian churchyard.

Legend has it that Joseph of Arimathea and his followers settled nearby and built the first Christian shrine in Britain and that the earliest baptisms were conducted in the spring. It is said that Joseph brought the chalice or cup used by Jesus in the Last Supper and either buried or washed the cup at the site, causing the water representing the blood of Christ to spring forth from the ground. Due to this, the Chalice Well is linked to the quest for the Holy Grail.

The Chalice Well has also been associated with healing waters for several centuries. In 1582 Dr John Dee declared he had discovered the ‘Elixir Vitae’ at the well and declared the water had healing properties. By the 18th Century, it became fashionable for people to visit the take the waters, with visitors flocking to the well to be healed. In 1750 a man from North Wootton claimed he had had a dream which told him to drink the water on seven consecutive Sundays to cure his asthma. He did this and proclaimed that he had “recovered of his disorder”. By 1751 tens of thousands of visitors came to take the waters, many of whom made sworn testimonies stating they had been cured of all manner of things, including blindness, ulcers, deafness, and scrofula.

(Chalice Well. Image Source: ©E.Holohan)

Today the Lion’s Head drinking fountain is the only place in the gardens where the iron-rich water is safe to drink. The Chalice Well is now a place of quiet contemplation, peace, and calm, where visitors can revive their spirits and be soothed by nature. My husband and I filled our water bottle here, so we could drink the healing, iron-rich water later.

On Wellhouse Lane outside Chalice Well, leading up to the Tor, there is also a tap where travellers can fill their bottles when the gardens are closed. Directly opposite this lies the White Spring, from which calcium-rich waters flow, which we didn’t visit on this occasion.

The healing waters and vibrant gardens provided a tranquil respite, allowing our group to reflect on the mystical threads connecting Glastonbury’s past and present.

Glastonbury Tor: A Beacon of Mystery

Due to the inclement icy weather, myself and a number of our group decided to forgo climbing up the iconic Glastonbury Tor, preferring to view from a distance from the Chalice Well below. However, two brave members of our group continued their exploration, climbing through the mist and ice to the summit.

The Tor is a towering hill with panoramic views, it is shrouded in legend, rumoured to be the mythical Avalon. The mists rolling off the Levels left only the tower visible, pointing like a beacon towards the heavens; imposing and darkly powerful. The climb to the summit is approximately 158m above sea level, the sides are precipitous, and on a clear day, climbers can see for miles.

In early times the whole area here used to be a wetland and archaeology shows that the early inhabitants of the area built communities on hills or manmade structures, such as at the Lake Villages of Godney and Mere. Therefore, before the Levels were drained, Glastonbury Tor would have been a wetland island, perhaps leading to the myth of the Isle of Avalon. In prehistoric times it certainly would have been a landmark for local inhabitants and travellers.

(The Tor seen from Chalice Well below. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

Archaeological excavation indicates that the site has been inhabited since at least the 6th Century. Pottery and metalwork have been found there indicating the presence of a people of possible importance such as a monastic community. This may have been a sacred place long before Christianity, used by Bronze Age people and perhaps the Celts. The positioning of the Chalice Well and the Tor fits with a Celtic format, perhaps a place of pagan religious importance, later taken over by Christians.

A Norman chapel was built to St Michael on the summit, but destroyed by an earthquake in 1275. It was rebuilt 50 years later and in the 15th Century a tower was added, which remains today as a romantic, lonely ruin.

The Tor is associated with several myths and legends. There is thought to be a cave deep within the Tor, which is said to be a portal into the Otherworld which the Welsh mythological Lord of the Otherworld (Annwn) uses to transport spirits. It is said that on All Hallows Eve, the Lord of the Otherworld rides out from the cave on dark steeds for the Wild Hunt; collecting souls. He is followed by the hounds of hell, Cwn Annwn. The myth remains strong as in 2005 in the early hours of the morning, locals said that a charge of demonic horses could be heard galloping through the town. Four locals stated that they saw riderless black horses thundering up Bere Lane, along Chilkwell Street, and then disappearing in the direction of the Tor. They were lucky to keep their souls, in that case!

There is also a story relating to St Collen and his experience of the Tor. The saint visited Glastonbury but shortly after had a falling out with the local monks. He left for the Tor and made a cell in a quiet spot near the spring at the bottom. Here he is said to have had a vision of the Lord of the Otherworld, also believed to be King of the Fair Folk (fairies), Gwyn ap Nudd. His vision included scenes of revelry at the fairy castle, a fine feast, and music. St Collen sprinkled holy water and the vision vanished, leaving him alone on the Tor summit. Locals say that if the summit of the Tor is covered in mist, Gwyn ap Nudd is holding high revelry there. The members of our group climbed the misty Tor, but as far as I know, were not transported to the Fairy Realm on this occasion.

Return to the Haunted Haven: the George and Pilgrim Pub

After our day of exploring some of the sights of Glastonbury, we reconvened back at the George and Pilgrim pub for dinner and drinks in its atmospheric setting. We spent the evening sharing stories and bonding over our shared interests.

(Evening shenanigans. Image Source: ©J.Hickey-Hall)

As night fell, many of us chose to brave the haunted rooms of the George and Pilgrim, welcoming the prospect of nighttime encounters with the unknown.

The George and Pilgrim pub has a reputation as one of the most haunted hotels in England. A man in 17th-century clothing is said to walk through the bar, to then disappear. In the Small Bar guests have heard a violent argument in process, only to discover on investigation that there is nobody there.

The bedrooms on the upper floors are said to be haunted by a variety of spirits. Footsteps have been heard moving along the empty corridors and cigar smoke has been smelled by occupants in certain rooms in the early hours. Chambermaids have reported that taps have been turned on, bed covers disordered, and furniture moved by unseen hands.

(The corridor to the Abbot Bere Room. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

In one room the spirit of a monk was seen by a lady who awoke in the night. She felt the bed sink as the monk sat on the bed, where he stayed for several minutes talking about the time of Queen Elizabeth I, before fading away. Local legend has it that a monk once completed suicide in that very room.

A married couple once stayed in another room and reported that the wife was woken in the night by footsteps approaching the bedroom door. She looked to see a glimmering light with a tall, thin man in a sports jacket standing at the door. As she went to leap out of bed in fright, he smiled and disappeared.

The group decided to meet up in one of the rooms, ‘Abbot Richard Bere’ room, to see if anything spooky could be felt. Abbot Bere was Abbot of Glastonbury between 1493-1524. He began much building on Glastonbury Abbey, from the chapels to the crypts, and also rebuilt the tribunal in around 1500. Although the room was very atmospheric, with its old-fashioned four-poster bed, we did not feel anything unusual in this room.

Several of us retired to bed, but a small group of us including myself peeled off and spent some time in another of the bedrooms. Here we turned out the lights and called out for any spirits to show themselves. We heard some small tapping sounds, but on investigation, these sounds were found to be the radiators heating up.

Finally, we called it a night and my husband and I retired to our room, ‘The Monk’s Cell’. This room is believed to be where the Abbot Whiting and his two monks were held on the morning of their execution. Abbot Whiting had been charged by King Henry VIII with robbery at the Bishop’s Palace in Wells after the dissolution of the monasteries. He was found guilty and attached to a hurdle, dragged through town, and eventually was hanged up on Glastonbury Tor alongside two of his monks John Thorne and Roger Wilfred. Whiting was then drawn and quartered and his head hung over the Abbey gateway.

(The Mon’s Cell. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

The room had an eerie feel to it, this may just have been due to suggestion because of its old-fashioned style and slightly off-kilter proportions. I slept quite poorly that night, having weird dreams, but this once again may be due to the priming of being in a ‘possibly haunted’ room. My husband slept quite well though.

The next morning, however, provided some spooky hijinks. In the breakfast room, we were entertained by the light-hearted staff as we ate our breakfasts. Several times we noted that breakfast menus fell off the tables, perhaps pushed by spectral hands. Or, just as likely, gravity, of course. The staff claimed that this was the hotel poltergeist, ‘Arkwright’, who caused all kinds of mischief in the kitchen and breakfast room.

A Parting of Ways

Our sojourn through Glastonbury transcended the ordinary, weaving together a collective tale of mystery, and folklore, and shared fascination with the paranormal. As we departed, the ancient energy of Glastonbury lingered, leaving an indelible mark on each of us and a treasury of memories and stories to share with kindred spirits.

Please check out some of my fellow Glastonbury explorers’ podcasts and writing:

Peter Laws (https://www.peterlaws.co.uk/), Owen Staton (Time Between Times: https://www.youtube.com/@TimebetweenTimes), Dr Delyth Badder ( The Folklore of Wales: Ghosts https://www.amazon.co.uk/Folklore-Wales-Ghosts-Delyth-Badder/dp/191527950X), Jo Hickey-Hall (The Modern Fairy Sightings Podcast https://www.scarlettofthefae.com/category/the-modern-fairy-sightings-podcast/)

References

Drumbeats of the Past: Uncle Gerald’s Fateful Meeting with the Hickling Drummer Boy

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(Phantom Drummer. Image Source: Bing Image Creator)

My step-uncle Gerald lived in the village of Hickling, nestled in the heart of the Norfolk Broadlands. He was one of the few remaining reed cutters, a job with a long, proud tradition in the area but sadly dying out as fewer people needed thatch for their homes.

(Gerald Nudd 1940-1999. Artist unknown. Image Source: ©E.Holohan)

It was back in the mid-1990s that my step-uncle spent his day on Hickling Broad, the local body of water, slicing through reeds as the sun dipped below the horizon. One evening, the air grew cold and he witnessed a spectral figure gliding across the Broad.

(Hicking Broad, Norfolk. Image Source: John Fielding)

Now, being Hickling born and bred and from a family whose ancestry here stretched back as far as the Norse settlers, Gerald realised in horror that he was witnessing a local legend recreating its ethereal journey across the Broad.

Local folklore has it that during the winter of 1815, shortly before the battle of Waterloo, a local drummer boy from Potter Heigham returned home on leave. While back he fell passionately in love with a local girl from a wealthy and influential family. The girl’s father, knowing the drummer boy was poor, refused to allow the relationship and any thought of marriage.

Undeterred by this, the star-crossed lovers continued to meet in secret every night in a little hut at Swim Coots on the edge of Hickling Broad. When the winter turned icy and the Broad froze over, the drummer boy skated over the ice, wearing his bright yellow scarlet trimmed coat, and would beat his kettle drum to signal his approach.

(The view from Swim Coots Mill. Image Source: Bart Horeman cc-by-sa/2.0)

One frozen February evening the girl waited at Swim Coots as usual and listened out for the drum beat of her paramour. But this time the drum beat suddenly stopped and there was an eerie silence. The ice had cracked and the drummer boy had plunged through and drowned in the freezing waters of the Broad.

It is said that the girl rushed to the edge of the frozen Broad to find her lover and was relieved to see the shivering boy skating towards her. As she held out her hands to help him ashore, she felt his icy touch and the drummer boy disappeared.

The unfortunate drummer boy was not found for several days when a lifeless body was pulled from the Broad clad in a yellow coat with scarlet trim.

(Hickling Broad with Swim Coots marked. Image Source: Google Maps 2023)

Since then, it is said that on some cold winter nights in February, the eerie sound of a rhythmic drum tattoo and the swishing of skates can be heard, as the ghostly drummer boy tries to keep his date with his sweetheart.

After observing in shock the gliding figure, Gerald quickly downed his tools and fled back to the village where he decided to visit the Greyhound Inn for a stiff, nerve-settling drink. As Gerald recounted the haunting sight of the ghostly drummer boy to the sceptical pub patrons, the line between reality and spirits blurred. Was it the ethereal presence of the supernatural he witnessed, or a distorted vision fuelled by the spirits from his glass?

The locals in the pub dismissed his tale, attributing it to his well-known predilection for whisky. However, Gerald couldn’t shake the chilling memory, leaving him wondering if the haunting beats of the drummer boy would forever echo in his consciousness or fade away like the dissipating spirits in his empty whisky glass.

References

A Journey into the Mystical World of Avebury Stone Circle

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(Image source: Avebury (1937) by Paul Nash. Original from The Museum of New Zealand. Digitally enhanced by rawpixel.)

A few days before the summer solstice, I embarked on a captivating journey to the ancient marvels of Avebury, Silbury Hill, and the West Kennett Long Barrow. It was a trip filled with wonder, history, and a dash of the paranormal. Joining me were fellow bloggers, writers, podcasters, and enthusiasts of the mystical and unexplained.

The Red Lion Pub

(Image Source: Avebury Information Sign, © E.Holohan September 2020)

Our adventure began at the Red Lion pub, a white-washed and thatched hostelry encircled by the colossal stones. The pub itself is a point of paranormal interest due to reports of ghostly happenings within especially from their female phantom, Florrie. During the 17th-century English Civil War, Florrie was caught with another man by her husband who had returned from the war unannounced. He shot her lover and cut her throat, then threw her body down the well. Florrie’s ghost has haunted the pub ever since.

(Image Source: Florrie’s Well, © E.Holohan June 2023)

After enjoying refreshments in the pub, we headed out on our journey, wending our way through the ancient “Avenue”; a passage between sarsen sandstone pairs that leads to “The Sanctuary” on Overton Hill, over 1 mile east.

Silbury Hill

Our first stop was the enigmatic Silbury Hill, a massive artificial mound that has puzzled archaeologists for centuries. Its origins and purpose remain a mystery, fuelling speculation about its role in ancient ceremonies or astronomical significance. Standing before this colossal earthwork, we couldn’t help but wonder about the labour and dedication that went into its construction.

(Image Source: Silbury Hill, © E.Holohan June 2023)

Silbury Hill is also steeped in ghostly tales and legends. Some claim to have witnessed spectral figures near the hill, while others speak of eerie lights and mysterious sounds. While we didn’t encounter any supernatural occurrences during our visit, the sense of mystery surrounding Silbury Hill added an extra layer of intrigue to our adventure.

West Kennet Long Barrow

Our next stop was the haunting West Kennett Long Barrow, a Neolithic burial chamber that is around 6000 years old. As we entered the dimly lit chamber, we felt a palpable connection to the past. The long barrow’s ancient stones seemed to whisper stories of the souls laid to rest within.

(Image Source: West Kennett Long Barrow, © E.Holohan June 2023)

The West Kennett Long Barrow is also known for its eerie tales of ghostly apparitions and strange phenomena. Visitors have reported encounters with shadowy figures and a sense of unease within the chamber’s confines. While we didn’t experience anything out of the ordinary, the stories added a spine-tingling dimension to our visit especially with Weird Wiltshire’s Emma recounting her own paranormal experiences here.

(Image Source: View from inside the Long Barrow, © E.Holohan June 2023)

Long Barrow Race

It was here that three of the adventurous souls in our group decided to have a race next to the long barrow. With laughter, excitement, and much cheering, they sprinted past the long barrow with one member, Peter Laws, reigning victorious. It was a light-hearted moment amidst the solemnity of the site.

(Image Source: The Long Barrow Runner, © E.Holohan June 2023)

Avebury Stone Circle

Thoroughly famished from our journey up to the barrow, the group retraced our steps to the stone circle proper.  Avebury Stone Circle is a Neolithic ceremonial marvel that dates back to 2850 BC.  Encircling the picturesque village of Avebury, this stone circle is one of the largest in Europe, and it is shrouded in history and folklore.

As we wandered among the colossal stones, we couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe and reverence for the Neolithic people who raised them. Avebury’s history is steeped in mystery and legend. Some believe it to be a place of healing and spiritual power, while others associate it with ancient druidic ceremonies and pagan rituals. Our group decided to celebrate the upcoming summer solstice with a delightful picnic near the stones, a modern homage to the traditions of the past. As we dined amongst the towering megaliths, we exchanged stories of the paranormal and shared our love for these enigmatic structures.

(Image Source: Picnic at standing rock, © P.Laws June 2023)

Druidic Rituals

While at Avebury, we encountered a group of new-age pagan druids who were preparing for a pre-solstice ritual.  They were clad in flowing robes and carrying staffs adorned with symbols and we were fortunate enough to witness their ritual from afar. It was a reminder of the enduring spiritual connection people have with these ancient sites.

(Image Source: Druidic ceremony, © E.Holohan June 2023)

The Wishing Tree

After enjoying our picnic our group split into smaller bands who ventured out to explore different points of interest in Avebury. My band visited the Henge Shop to pick up some souvenirs of our trip and then ventured onwards again for a closer look at the stone circle and the set of venerable old trees said to have inspired J.R.R Tolkien’s ‘walking trees’ or Ents in “The Lord of the Rings”. We passed under the boughs of the wishing tree, where folk tie ribbons for wishes amongst its branches, and here also witnessed a handfasting ceremony.

(Image Source: Photo © Des Blenkinsopp (cc-by-sa/2.0)

As the sun dipped below the horizon, marking the end of this fine summer day, we left Avebury with a profound sense of wonder and connection to the past. Our journey had been a blend of history, folklore, and the paranormal, a testament to the enduring allure of these ancient sites. We may not have unravelled all their mysteries, but we left with a deep appreciation for the enduring power of these Neolithic wonders and also with a firm bond of friendship from our adventures within the stones.

(Image Source: The view from West Kennett Long Barrow, © E.Blackshaw June 2023)

Avebury’s rich history has captured the imaginations of many, and I believe that every visitor has a unique story to tell. Whether you’ve had a profound spiritual experience among the ancient stones or simply want to share your thoughts on the history and mysteries of Avebury, I invite you to join the conversation. Share your stories, thoughts, and insights with me today in the comments– together, we’ll continue to uncover the secrets of Avebury.

With thanks to Peter Laws (https://www.peterlaws.co.uk/), Owen Staton (Time Between Times: https://www.youtube.com/@TimebetweenTimes), Bethan Briggs-Miller (Eerie Essex https://www.buzzsprout.com/1827712), Emma Heard (Weird Wiltshire https://weird-wiltshire.co.uk/) Deborah Hyde (http://deborahhyde.com/), Melanie Hicks, Dr Delyth Badder ( The Folklore of Wales: Ghosts https://www.amazon.co.uk/Folklore-Wales-Ghosts-Delyth-Badder/dp/191527950X) , Gemma Oakley (https://www.alleyesthisway.com/), Dave Field, Aisling McCrudden and Ed Blackshaw.

References

An Eerie Encounter with the Dullahan’s Death Coach

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Lawrence Holohan and unknown young lady, possibly a granddaughter

When I was a teenager, still in high school, I became very interested in my Irish heritage and began tentatively researching my family tree. My grandfather was from Thomastown in County Kilkenny and married my grandmother after he met her in Norfolk while stationed there with the RAF. Sadly, he died quite young, only a few months before my mother was born. I think not knowing my grandfather was what made me even more determined to look into my Irish roots and the first port of call was talking to my grandaunt Phila, my grandfather’s younger sister. Phila was a fountain of family history knowledge, providing me with a family tree drawn from memory and writing down a few memories and stories about the relatives she remembered. One such story has intrigued me since and has led me to further research and create this blog post.

Lawrence Holohan was Phila’s grandpa, my 2nd great-grandfather. He was born in 1870 in Thomastown in the county of Kilkenny in Ireland. He lived in an area near Bennetsbridge, not far from Thomastown, called Newhouse. Records trace his ancestors back to this area at least until the turn of the 19th century.

My grandaunt wrote down quite a few of her memories about him, but the one that captivated me the most was this story, as follows:

“He was great for telling ‘ghost stories’. One I remember was of him walking home late one night, along a dark Irish lane, when he heard the sound of the local stagecoach coming. He stood aside to let it pass, but when it drew near, it was being driven by a ‘headless’ driver, so the story goes.”

Aunty Phila’s handwritten notes

Lawrence died in 1956 and Phila has also now sadly passed away, so I cannot find out any more information on this wonderful ghost story from them, however, I have been able to look into some of the folklore of Ireland concerning headless coach drivers and headless horsemen.

It seems that stories of the headless coach have some history in the Bennettsbridge area, as I found a story originating from there in the National Folklore Collection, UCD. This was located in their Schools’ Collection and was written by 13-year-old Mary Nolan of nearby Danesfort in 1938:

“Headless Coach

In ancient times the old Irish people believed in many mythical things. They believed in Fairies and the “Headless Coach” and many things like that.

It is said that people in those days saw the ‘Headless Coach’ and this is the description they have of it. The Coach was very big and there was supposed to be dead people on it. The horses that were drawing it had no heads and that is why it was called the ‘Headless Coach’.

In the middle of the night some people heard it and they said it came up the Bennetts – Bridge road and it went down the Stoneyford road and it stopped at the Protestant Church. The people did not know where it came from.

The Coach made great noise as it travelled. Old people say it has to pass along the same way every four years.

People long ago told many stories about the ‘Headless Coach’ and they were kept by tradition.”

Was this the same apparition that Lawrence saw on that lonely lane, making its way to take a soul? It sounds as if the Headless Coach was a regular visitor along the roads he would have walked as a young man and he would have grown up hearing stories of its deathly journeys.

Ireland is a land shrouded in rich folklore, where tales of otherworldly beings and ghostly spectres abound. Among the many fascinating and eerie stories, two figures stand out for their chilling presence and association with death: the Dullahan and the Cóiste Bodhar Death Coach.

The Dullahan: The Headless Horseman

Dullahan, the headless horseman via Wikipedia (Croker, Thomas Crofton (1834) “XXIX. The Headless Horseman” in Fairy legends and traditions of the south of Ireland, John Murray, p. 239)

In Irish legend, the Dúlachán or Dullahan is a terrifying figure, often referred to as the “Gan Ceann” or “Headless One.” This malevolent being is said to roam the countryside, heralding imminent death with his appearance. The Dullahan was thought to be a sign of death, similar to the folklore of the banshee. Unlike the Banshee, which is known to warn of a coming death in certain families, the Dullahan does not come just to warn; he is the harbinger of someone’s certain death.  The Dullahan is depicted as a headless horseman, carrying his detached head under his arm or holding it high up in the air. The head’s eyes are said to be constantly moving, peering into the distance and revealing the fate of those whose demise is drawing near.

The first mention of the Dullahan appears in Thomas Crofton Croker’s book Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland in 1828 and he is described as follows in the tale “The Headless Horseman”:

   ” ..such a head no mortal ever saw before. It looked like a large cream cheese hung round with black puddings: no speck of colour enlivened the ashy paleness of the depressed features; the skin lay stretched over the unearthly surface almost like the parchment head of a drum. Two fiery eyes of prodigious circumference, with a strange and irregular motion, flashed like meteors.”

Clothed in a tattered, black cloak, the Dullahan wielded a whip made from a human spine, which he used to strike fear into anyone who crossed his path. His horse’s hooves were said to spark flames as they gallop, leaving a sinister trail of fire in their wake. When the Dullahan stopped riding, it was believed that a soul was about to pass into the afterlife. It is claimed that witnesses would hear their name being called out, and if they looked back, they were destined to die.

Despite his forbidding demeanour, the Dullahan was said to be fearful of gold and would avoid areas where these precious metals are present. As a result, people would sometimes leave offerings of gold to protect themselves from the dreaded fate he carried.

Croker’s tale “The Headless Horseman” provides the best depiction of the Dullahan, presented with good humour. The protagonist of the story is Charley Culnane, who while out riding at night witnessed the apparition of a disembodied head of a horse ridden by the figure of a headless spectral rider:

“A figure, whose height (judging as well as the obscurity of the night would permit him) he computed to be at least eight feet, was seated on the body and legs of a white horse full eighteen hands and a half high … his vision failed in carrying him further than the top of the collar of the figure’s coat, which was a scarlet single-breasted hunting frock …]see further he could not, and after straining his eyes for a considerable time to no purpose, he exclaimed, with pure vexation, “By the big bridge of Mallow, it is no head at all he has!

“Look again, Charley Culnane, said a hoarse voice, that seemed to proceed from under the right arm of the figure.

Charley did look again, and now in the proper place, for he clearly saw, under the aforesaid right arm, that head from which the voice had proceeded, and such a head no mortal ever saw before.”

Surprisingly Charley then decided to challenge the headless horseman to a race, much to the delight of the ghostly rider:

“A hundred years it is since my horse and I broke our necks at the bottom of Kilcummer Hill, and ever since I have been trying to get a man that dared to ride with me, and never found one before.”

The horseman disappeared without taking Charley’s life and rewarded him with the promise of supernatural assistance in any future races in which Charley would take part.

There are also legends and tales concerning the “Headless Coach”, or in Irish Cóiste Bodhar, with its driver being the Dullahan.

The Cóiste Bodhar Death Coach: Harbinger of Doom

The Cóiste Bodhar, also known as the “Silent Coach” or “Death Coach”, is by legend a ghostly coach drawn by a team of headless, skeletal horses, and it travels silently through the night to collect the souls of the departed. Like the Dullahan, the Cóiste Bodhar is a harbinger of death and signals the end of a person’s life.

The sight of the Cóiste Bodhar is said to bring an eerie stillness to the surroundings as if nature itself is holding its breath. The coach is often described as being adorned with funereal symbols, and its windows are said to be draped in mournful black. Those who witness the spectral procession may be overcome with a sense of foreboding, as they know that someone’s demise is imminent.

In some versions of the tale, the Cóiste Bodhar is driven by a Dullahan, further intertwining the stories of these two chilling entities. According to WB Yeats in his book  Irish Fairy and Folk Tales (1893), the Dullahan drives the coach:

“This is a most gruesome thing. He has no head, or carries it under his arm. Often he is seen driving a black coach called coach-a-bower (Ir. Coite-bodhar), drawn by headless horses. It rumbles to your door, and if you open it a basin of blood is thrown in your face. It is an omen of death to the houses where it pauses. Such a coach not very long ago went through Sligo in the gray of the morning, as was told me by a sailor who believed he saw it. In one village I know its rumbling is said to be heard many times in the year.”

According to Croker, the Dullahan could be heard driving the Death Coach particularly hard on some nights when there were souls to be collected:

“The following account of the Dullahans and their coach was communicated to the writer by a lady resident in the neighbourhood of Cork:–

“They drive particularly hard wherever a death is going to take place. The people about here thought that the road would be completely worn out with their galloping before Mrs. Spiers died. On the night the poor lady departed they brought an immense procession with them, and instead of going up the road, as usual, they turned into Tivoli: the lodge-people, according to their own account, ‘were kilt from them that night.’ The coachman has a most marvellously long whip, with which he can whip the eyes out of anyone, at any distance, that dares to look at him. I suppose the reason he is so incensed at being looked at, is because he cannot return the compliment, ‘pon the ‘count of having no head. What a pity it is none but the Dullahans can go without their heads! Some people’s heads would be no loss to them, or anyone else.”

One compelling story by Croker concerning the Death Coach is that of “Hanlon’s Mill”. The protagonist Michael Noonan was walking back from Ballyduff, Co Cork from his trip to a shoemaker and passed the ruined mill of “Old Hanlon”. The ruin surprisingly seemed to be issuing clacking noises as if it were working away. Mick then met his neighbour Darby who asked him to take the horse and cart back. Mick passed by the River Awbeg and here noticed that the moon reflected on a pool of water had disappeared.  When he turned, he then saw, following beside his cart, a black coach drawn by six headless black horses, driven by a headless coachman clothed in black:

“How was Mick astonished at finding, close along-side of the car, a great high black coach drawn by six black horses, with long black tails reaching almost down to the ground, and a coachman dressed all in black sitting up on the box. But what surprised Mick the most was, that he could see no sign of a head either upon coachman or horses.”

The next morning, Mick received news from a local huntsman that Master Wrixon of Ballygibblin had died suddenly after a fit. So, according to legend, the appearance of the “Headless Coach” foreshadowed an imminent death once again.

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Another interesting story occurred in 1876 in county Clare, collected by Thomas Johnson Westropp, in his 1910 “A Folklore Survey of County Clare”.  Here a servant for the MacNamara family of Ennistymon House was taking a stroll late at night when he heard the rumbling of wheels along the lane. Confused as to what vehicle would be out at such a late time of night, he then realised it must be the Cóiste Bodhar.

The servant then quickly ran and opened the three gates leading to Ennistymon House and threw himself face down on the ground as the death coach hurtled past him. Without stopping at Ennistymon House, it drove into the distance until it was out of sight and no longer heard. A day later news arrived that Sir Admiral Burton MacNamara had died in London.

Despite their fearsome reputation, the Dullahan and Cóiste Bodhar serve as a reminder of the ancient beliefs and superstitions that have shaped Irish culture. Did Lawrence Holohan really witness the Death Coach passing by on its solemn journey? Did it come to take the soul of a family member or friend of his? The answers are now lost in time. However, what we do know is that legend of the Dullahan and the Death Coach continues to captivate and frighten those who hear their eerie hoofbeats or the rumbling of wheels echoing in the darkness, making them two of the most enduring and haunting figures in Irish folklore.

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I dedicate this post to my mother Susan Gayfer (01/06/1956-24/07/2023) who passed away suddenly and unexpectedly the on the day I finished writing the first draft and had been excited to read the finished product. She sadly did not live to read it.

References

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The Care Home Entity

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I’ve been interested in the paranormal since I was a child, even joining an amateur paranormal investigation team in Ireland for a year when I lived in Dublin, though remaining firmly in the ‘sceptic’ camp. The experiences I want to describe to you happened to my mother when I was around 13 years old and it is where my interest in the paranormal began.

My mum has worked as a care assistant and later in managerial roles in elderly people’s residential care homes in Norfolk for most of her adult life. She has had several unusual, creepy and unexplained experiences in several places, but the one that left its mark on her and me the most was in a care home in a busy touristic town on the Norfolk Broads. This care home was in a very old building that had once been part of a landed estate, and it comprised of gardens, a large house with multiple rooms and converted stables/sheds.

My mum worked as a relief assistant manager there for a period and part of the job required that she sleep over night. She had slept in different rooms in the main building before and had odd experiences; she had had her things moved and nightclothes folded and put on the bed on occasion and upon asking no staff had admitted to moving them. She said this room felt safe and friendly, like there was a friendly poltergeist there who wanted to be helpful. In one certain room, she had woken in the night to hear crying from the room above. Upon investigation, she was told that there was nobody in the room above. Although creepy, her experiences in these rooms did not leave her shaken and she was generally happy to sleep in them.

It was however, when my mum was required to sleep in the rooms in the converted stables/sheds that she had the experiences that left her shaken and scared. I remember seeing my mum when she returned from work the afternoon after her first night in that room and she looked awful. She looked exhausted and shaken up but would not tell me what had happened to her. It took her around 3 days for her to finally gain the strength to speak about it as she felt she would not be believed. I believe she experienced something in that room that she could not explain.

My mum told me that she had felt uncomfortable in that room from the first time she went in. She said it felt cold and unfriendly. On that first night she had finished up her tasks for the night and had gone to her room to settle in for the night. She said she had the bedside lamp on and was propped up in bed reading, which is her custom to help her relax before sleep. She said it felt cold in the room and she noticed something odd from over the top of her book. She said she saw a grey mist coalescing near the window and between the end of the bed. She felt frozen with fear and watched the mist grow until around 5ft in height, like figure. The mist seemed to shuffle towards her and this was more than enough for my mum and she told me she shot out of the bed and out of the room. She refused to return that night and slept as best she could in a chair in one of the lounges. She spoke to the night staff and they disclosed that other people had had strange experiences in that room.

Sadly, my mum had to return to that room as part of her job, so she decided she had to live with whatever was in the room. She said following that first incident she experienced knocking and banging on the door, but nobody there and staff confirming nobody had been to her room. She heard knocking and banging inside the room too, sometimes waking her up. She was so frightened she spoke to a local vicar about what to do and began sleeping with a Bible next to the bed and a glass of water to represent life.

Other relief assistant managers also had to slept in that room and at least 2 others disclosed that they had had experiences in there. One lady had felt what felt like someone get in bed beside her and somehow pass through her. Another had felt something pulling the duvet from the end of the bed.

My mum spoke to some locals who said that they believed an Italian prisoner of war had worked on the estate and had died in the stables. Could he still be there trying to get attention?

My mum said throughout the time she worked there she continued to experience things in that room, but they did calm after she spoke to it. She became so fed up with her sleep being disturbed and feeling afraid that she literally spoke to it, or at least to the room, telling it that she wasn’t there to harm it, she had to stay there for her job and if it ceased bothering her, she would not bother it. This seemed to calm things in there somewhat from then on and she was able to sleep with less disturbance.

The building there is no longer a care home for the elderly, but has a similar use, so she prefers to keep the place anonymous as she doesn’t want to cause alarm to anyone who stays there now. I wonder if the entity in that room and the spirits in the other rooms are still active?

Victim Support Sponsored Ghost Hunt, January 2014- The Ancient Ram Inn, Gloucestershire

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On 11th January 2014 members of Victim Support’s South West Victim Care Unit held a sponsored ‘ghost hunt’ at the Ancient Ram Inn in Wotton-Under-Edge, Gloucestershire.

The Ancient Ram Inn is considered one of Britain’s most haunted B&Bs and is reputedly haunted by at least twenty ghosts. It is claimed that it is so haunted it can no longer be used as a functioning B&B and instead opens its doors to budding ghost hunters.

Members of the South West Victim Care Unit challenged themselves to see how long they could last out in this creepy building. A Ouija Board was used in “the bar” and several vigils were conducted in “the bishop’s room”. There were a few strange occurrences in the bishop’s room, such as a candle stick falling over, tapping noises coming from the fireplace, a brass bed warmer swinging and banging over the fireplace, a door knob rattling when nobody was at the door and long scratching noises coming from the door.

Were these down to a pranksters or spirits of the dead? You can find out for yourself if you spend a night at the Ancient Ram Inn.

Despite finding no concrete evidence of the afterlife, all members of the South West Victim Care Unit enjoyed their spooky experience, which raised £775 for Victim Support.

An more detailed write up of this investigation with additional photos will follow shortly.

 

Using the Ouija Board at the Ram Inn

Using the Ouija Board at the Ram Inn

2009-2014 Ghost Catcher UK & Ireland© All rights reserved. All my posts are copyright and if you do wish to refer to them or use anything from them on your site, please ask permission first

The Whispering Mummies of St Michan’s Church, Dublin

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In 2010 I took my mother on a visit to an unusual and macabre attraction in Dublin: the mummies of St Michan’s church. Located near Dublin’s Four Courts, St Michan’s church is Dublin’s oldest parish church north of the River Liffey. Founded in 1095 and named after a Danish Bishop and built on the site of an ancient oak grove, the present church dates from 1685. Until the 16th century monks from Christchurch Cathedral the church congregation and from 1547 it was part of Christchurch Cathedral parish. Restored in 1998, St. Michan’s now belongs to the Protestant Church of Ireland. The church retains many of its original features such as the galleried interior and organ. The organ dates from 1724 and is one of the oldest in Ireland that is still in use. It is claimed that Handel practised for the first performance of ‘Messiah’ on this very organ.

Beneath the church lay the vaults, which are the main attraction to the church. Here many of Dublin’s most influential families from the 17th-19th centuries were interred. The Shears brothers, who were executed by the British following the Rising of 1798 and a copy of the execution warrant is also on display in the crypt, where it instructs the condemned men to be hung, drawn and quartered. Also interred in the vault are the Earl’s of Leitrim who lay in highly decorated coffins. Many of the bodies deposited in the vault are in such an excellent state of preservation that their features are discernible and they bones and skin intact. The conditions for mummification are caused by a combination of the dry atmosphere of the vaults, methane gas emanating from the ground and the limestone walls which are resistant to moisture acting together to dry out the bodies. The most famous mummies in the vault are those of the alleged crusader, the thief and the nun. The crusader, mummy believed to have been a soldier returned from the Crusades, has had his legs broken and crossed, in order for it to fit the coffin. He lies with one of his hands is lifted slightly in the air and legend has it that those who touch his finger will have good fortune. The mummy known as the thief has had his feet cut off and his right forearm is missing, some say as punishment for his crime. Recent scientific and historical research however, has disputed the validity of the stories surrounding the crusader and the thief.

Our visit to the church was on a wet and dismal day in June. After looking around the church our tour guide and 6 other people entered the underground vaults through a metal door and clambered down some very wet steps. There was a passage in front of us and in the dim light, alcove areas could be seen which contained the ornate coffins of the well to do departed. The tour guide explained who the coffins belonged to, what the family names and crests were and then we moved on toward the end of the passage, where we saw the open coffins and the mummified bodies. Towards the end of the tour my mother wandered to the end of the passage where there was a part that had not been excavated. She told me that while she was peering into this area she became aware of voices around her, “a sort of whispering, murmuring noise” and felt it was rather oppressive in the passage. She said she began to sense that there were many people around her, pressing close, which was not the case. She remembers “I did not feel frightened, just aware of this whispering and I could not make out any words, but I felt as if I was in a press of people. There was no wind entering the passage the metal door had been firmly shut behind us and I could not account for the noises.”

It is interesting to note that there have been previous reports of strange whisperings and voices heard within the vaults, as well as reports of being touched by unseen hands. Could it be that the vaults contain the restless spirits of the dead, or is it more likely that visitors to the vaults experience movements and sounds caused by ‘infrasound’? Infrasound refers to extreme bass waves or vibrations with a frequency below the audibility range of the human ear. Although these waves cannot be heard by the human ear, they can be felt and have been shown to produce a range of effects in some people including anxiety, extreme sorrow, and chills. Perhaps this would account for my mother’s feeling of oppressiveness in the passageway, the feeling of being in a press of people and hearing ghostly whispers.

Haunted vaults or not, my mother is undeterred: “I very much enjoyed it. I would not mind going again, but I certainly would not want to be there on my own….”

Visitor Information

Address: Church Street, Dublin, Dublin, Ireland

Public transport: Bus: 134 from Abbey St.

Tours: Mon-Fri 10-12:45, 2-4:45, Sat 10-12:45

Admission Prices:
Adults €4.00
Children €3.00
Students and Seniors €3.50
Family (2 Adults + 2 Children) €12.00

References

2009-2014 Ghost Catcher UK & Ireland© All rights reserved. All my posts are copyright and if you do wish to refer to them or use anything from them on your site, please credit this site.