Not surprisingly, the dramatic and mysterious landscapes of Dartmoor have given rise to many legends and ghostly tales. Although many seem far-fetched, there is often a grain of truth at the heart of the story. At this time of year, as the fog rolls in and the skies darken, it’s easy to believe in all manner of eerie happenings, and where better to swap tales than in front of a log fire in a welcoming local pub. Here is another selection of local myths and hauntings that you might encounter during your stay.
Fitz’s Well, Okehampton
One night, a young couple were out walking back from Halstock Chapel across the moors when they came across some Dartmoor pixies (or piskies, as they are known locally). The piskies brought down the mist and the couple became lost, circling round and round. The couple searched desperately for a clear spring, knowing that if they could find one and drink from it, the piskies’ spell would be broken. As luck would have it, they stumbled across a spring. As soon as they took a drink, the mist lifted, and they could see Okehampton lying below, so were able to make their way safely off the moor. The man was so grateful that he returned to the spring and erected a stone cross to mark its position. The spring soon became known as a magical well, and it was said that any youngster visiting the well on Easter Sunday would learn of their destiny. Today, the well is covered with several granite slabs but the cross is still standing. The name Fitz’s Well is thought to derive from the name of the then landowner of the site, but in another version of the story, John Fitz is the young man who became lost on the moors.
The Cranmere Benjie
If you visit Cranmere Pool, the birthplace of Dartmoor letterboxing, you’ll find little more than a marshy hollow but if the local legends are to be believed, it used to be a large lake. After embezzling funds intended to be used to rescue local mariners, Benjamin Gayer, a resident of Okehampton, was overcome with guilt and died. His restless spirit refused to leave his house and the residents of the town become tired with the nightly wailing. Local clergymen joined forces and succeeded in turning the spirit into a black colt, which was ridden into Cranmere Pool by one of the town’s best young horsemen. To keep the spirit occupied, it was condemned to bail the water from the lake using a sieve. However, one day the spirit found a dead sheep near to the lake and used its skin to line the sieve. It was then able to empty the pool so quickly that the nearby town of Okehampton was flooded. As a punishment, the spirit was sentenced to make trusses of grit, bound with plaits of sand, until the Day of Judgement. Although the spirit has not been seen since, the Cranmere Benjie, as it became known, can sometimes be heard sobbing and wailing as it goes about this impossible task. Night walkers in the area have also reported seeing a black colt galloping across the moor.
The Hairy Hands
I think this is possibly the creepiest tale I’ve heard, and involves the area between Postbridge and Two Bridges, right in the heart of Dartmoor. In the early 1900s, there was a series of unexplained accidents on the stretch of the B3212 that runs between these two towns. Cyclists reported that the handlebars of their bikes were suddenly wrenched out of their hands, forcing them into the ditch. Horse-drawn carriages were forced off the road onto the verge, and motor vehicles also experienced similar occurrences. A motorcyclist, who survived an accident, told of large, hairy hands clamping over his and forcing his vehicle off the road. In 1962, a woman visiting the area stopped her car to check her map. When she looked up, she saw a pair of huge, hairy hands pressed against the windscreen. She was so paralysed with fear that she was unable to scream. There have been reports of the Hairy Hands as recently as 2008, when a motorist reported that he saw a huge pair of spectral paws grab at his steering wheel in an attempt to force him off the road. Others report an evil presence inside the car, which leads to erratic steering.
The Origins of Clotted Cream
Not a ghost story, but as clotted cream is such an integral part of the Devon psyche, it was too good to leave out! The legend of how Devonians invented clotted cream is centred around Dinger Tor, which lies just south of High Willhays and was reputed to be the home of a giant, Blunderbus, and his four wives. Although the youngest wife, Jennie, had never learned to cook, she was her husband’s favourite, which made the three older wives very jealous. Eventually, they persuaded their husband to banish Jennie. Although he agreed, he couldn’t bear to get rid of her completely, so installed her in a cave on the north coast, where he could secretly visit her. One night, Jennie was in her cave and overheard some wreckers planning to trick a ship into grounding on the rocks. By lighting a fire, she was able to warn the ship of the danger. The captain of the ship was so grateful that he gave Jennie a recipe for a dish that was so wonderful that once tasted, Blunderbus would never want to leave her side again. Sure enough, after one spoonful of ‘clouted cream’, as it was then known, Blunderbus was so delighted that he took Jennie back to Dinger Tor. Although the older wives were not best pleased at this, after they had tasted the cream, they too were won over. The fame of this new food began to spread, and the older wives spent their time teaching visitors how to make the cream. They were so pleased to be so important and sought after that they were no longer jealous and left Jennie and Blunderbus to enjoy each other’s company.
