Shadows on the Water: The Haunted Canals and Waterways of Britain
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Shadows on the Water - Allan Scott-Davies
experiences.
INTRODUCTION
The inland waterways of the mainland United Kingdom have a wealth of history – overcoming challenges of getting from one place to another via tunnels, over aqueducts and through cuttings where shadows lurk. Rivers, lochs, meres and lakes may look romantic in the bright sunlight, but stay until sunset and the shadows slowly creep out of the dark and cold depths of the waters to seek out living souls to take. Over the years I have compiled numerous stories about ghosts and this is a collection of tales from many sites across the land, from mermaids trapped in pools to the Loch Ness monster, from phantom ships and barges full of bodies to helpful giants rising up to carry people across raging torrents of water. There are stories from rivers and canals that will make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and others that are simply amusing.
Once I had a list of locations in mind for this book, I set off on my travels to sketch the haunted sites and meet the people who had been in touch with me following a British Waterways press release and articles in Towpath Talk and Paranormal Magazine. It has been an exciting time, as I was filmed with Kerry Dainty by ITV and interviewed on the radio and via the Internet. There have also been some scary moments such as when I thought I had met the ghost at Badger Dingle in Shropshire … it turned out to be a reveller who just fell over rather than vanished as we walked towards each other through the dingle!
The stories behind the hauntings are often macabre and tragic, usually associated with someone whose life ended too quickly, thus leaving their image imprinted on the screen of time to reappear in certain conditions for viewers to perceive as ghosts. My belief is that we all have the ability to see these images, but as we get older and our parents wean us from our invisible friends we soon forget to ‘look’. It has been a great adventure turning up at haunted sites to check details. I have met those who have witnessed the apparitions and sketched the locations, taking photographs too.
So, what is a ghost? Well, there are many theories, and the one I promote from my own research and findings is that a ghost is a video-type image generated at times when all the elements are right for it to appear. Could this be why we tend to see more ghosts at night, the low-light energy images showing up better in the dark? Why do we tend not to see many in daylight – are they still there, but not strong enough to be seen? My theory is that we all have a battery of energy to see us through a full life, from birth to natural death. If we die before our natural time, murdered or the victim of a sudden accident, then we leave a trace image of ourselves powered by the remainder of the battery power that can go on for many more years than if we were alive. Imagine it a little like a projected image through sheets of time, and as time moves on so fades the image.
The Roman soldiers that walk in the cellar of Treasurer’s House in York have been getting fainter in image as time passes. We do not typically hear reports of giant mammoth spectres, so time must play a part in erasing their images. There are one or two ‘ghosts’ that do not fit this theory, and they tend to be the destructive ones who are often linked to suicides or girls developing into young women, plagued with a poltergeist for a short time.
There are more ghosts in Great Britain than in any other part of the world, according to the Ghost Club, and this could well be down to the mix of early invaders from Europe, each bringing traditions and stories to add to those already told here. Whatever the cause, there are many more tales waiting to be discovered and new ghosts making debuts all over the country – so look out for them.
The stories in this book are based on a combination of my own findings and first-hand accounts from people I have met or been in touch with after my appeals for ghost stories related to Britain’s waterways. Local variations are taken into account when writing them up, and in this respect various tourist information centres, canal societies and local press contacts have been very helpful. Additional research has been carried out via the Internet and other books, with the parnormal database being used as a point of reference to follow up stories.
If you have any of your own stories about ghosts that inhabit the waterways, be they canals, pools, lakes, lochs, rivers, or any body of inland water, do let me know. May I take this chance to thank you for reading this far, and hope that the rest of the book is of interest to you.
Allan Scott-Davies
CHAPTER ONE
SCOTLAND
BEAULY FIRTH, THE OLD INN
Not only known as a place where smugglers and distillers of illicit whisky would meet, the inn has its share of ghosts too – or so it would seem from the stories put out into the community by the smugglers who gathered there. For many years, people would keep away at night for fear of running into one of the headless coachmen who pounded the narrow lanes to and from the inn. Little did they suspect the ghosts were really smugglers, who used a form of fluorescent paint to make the phantom headless coachmen appear spookier by glowing in the dark.
There is one resident ghost, however, reputedly one of the later landlords who lived, breathed and loved the inn, so as age caught up with him he reluctantly put it up for sale. The night before he was due to move out he suffered a heart attack at the top of the stairs and died. Ever since he returns to visit his beloved tavern, checking the cellar and an old wooden till he used that is now on show, before sitting in his favourite seat, watching the customers enjoy a night at his inn – just as he did in life. But be warned – do not sit in his chair or you may well be pushed out of it!
TARBAT COTTAGE, FEARN
Near Fearn, in the parish of Tarbat, so the ghost story goes, was a muddy pond that once had clear waters washing up against the low bridge from the burn that fed it. Nearby was a cottage with a heather roof, in a style typical for the area. It was here that a grisly murder was committed.
A young pedlar of pots and pans arrived at the empty cottage, enjoyed a small but simple meal, then bedded down for the night. A highwayman who was keen to make a profit attacked him in the middle of the night. He stole the pedlar’s goods, chattels and money, before clubbing him to death and throwing his body into the pond. Some time later, the pedlar was seen rising from the lake and walking towards the cottage, as if looking for something – or someone. The locals noticed too that the lake was becoming darker in shade every spring, and began to silt up slowly year on year.
At the water’s edge and also in Tarbat Cottage a figure in grey was often seen apparently searching for something. Some sixty years after the murder the sightings faded and the old cottage was bought by a local man who rebuilt it, restoring it to its former glory in preparation for his wife. He lovingly carried his new wife over the threshold on the first night of their honeymoon in their new home. On their third evening together as newlyweds they were preparing for bed, when they heard a great commotion in the kitchen with sounds of banging and thrashing. They watched with horror as their bedroom door opened and the figure of a young man entered the room. The new owner of Tarbat Cottage pulled a poker into his hand from the bedroom fireplace and went toward the intruder, ready to strike. As he did so the intruder spoke, telling them that sixty years ago a highwayman had murdered him, throwing his body into the pond. He informed them that his correct allotted time to die as an old man was fast approaching, and smiled as he proceeded to age before their very eyes, slowly fading into the fabric of the cottage. The next day the skeleton of the young pedlar was found in a newly dug trench where the pond once was. His remains were taken to the nearby churchyard and buried with due ceremony. The ghost of the pedlar has never been seen again.
Tarbat Cottage remained a loving home and a small burn returned to the site of the pond in the following spring, filling with gleaming water that reflected back onto the cottage. Had the man not restored the cottage and moved in, the ghost of the lonely pedlar may still be roaming in search of his killer and goods.
RIVER CONON, HIGHLANDS
Beware if you walk or paddle in the river at Conon Bridge, for it is in the shadows of the bridge that a spirit lurks, appearing as a wave before pulling its victims under water to drown. Dogs have also been known to drown there. The spirit then throws its victim into the air and pushes the lifeless body to shore. The river is also host to the king otter, who, if caught, will grant one wish in return for freedom.
In the shadow of Canon House on the river is a ford. It was here that a servant of Lord Seaforth, on his way home from a party with his two friends, was attacked by the spectre of the river. The servant was crossing the ford on horseback when he emitted a sudden scream and there was frantic neighing, as both man and horse were grabbed and pulled under the water by a large black shape that leapt from the river. The two men watched in horror as their friend’s body was thrown to the air before being pulled back into the river. His horse made it to the other side and galloped off home, but despite days of searching, the servant was never found. His ghost appears nearby to warn others away from the ford.
RIVER KYLE, CARBISDALE CASTLE
The castle was built in 1905–1917 for the dowager Duchess of Sunderland, as part settlement after a long legal case over her husband’s will, contested by his son. It a safe haven for the King of Norway during the Second World War and in 1945 it became the showpiece of the Scottish Youth Hostel Association. The ghost of a gardener haunts the grounds and attaches itself to girls who are the same age as his lost daughter, who was fifteen years old. He walks along the river bank where his daughter was swept away in a flash flood as she paddled in the shallows. The figure is dressed in a hooded coat, with only part of his face showing.
LOCH ASSYNT
There are a number of stories concerning the area of Loch Assynt, including the sad tale of a pedlar, Murdoch Grant, who was murdered as he travelled around the paths, trading goods and lending money.
It was known that Murdoch carried all his cash on him, as he mistrusted banks, and his home was often broken into. He was last seen alive on the morning of 11 March 1830 as he set off to sell his wares at a wedding in Assynt; a wedding at which he never arrived. A month later, his body was discovered floating in the loch by a courting couple. Murdoch Grant’s body was removed from the loch and laid in a coffin. In a strange local custom the residents of Assynt were asked to press their forefinger on the forehead of Murdoch to prove they were not the killer. This is a tradition known as ‘touch-proof’, as it was believed that a guilty person would bleed from the finger on contact with the corpse.
Only one person refused to do this, saying he was an educated man who did not believe in such poppycock. He was the local schoolmaster, Macleod. Suspicion immediately fell on him, supported by the fact that he was known to be in debt and had a reputation for buying favours of women and living beyond his means. As there was no factual proof, and Macleod claimed his sudden wealth had come from an inheritance, the police had no evidence against him. However, Macleod did not get away with his crime. What he did not count on was Kenneth Frazer, a local man with the gift of second sight.
Frazer walked into the magistrates’ court and told an astounded audience of how Macleod had met Murdoch and tried to extend a loan. Murdoch refused and Macleod had hit him on the head then stole the rucksack, taking the money and some of the goods before hiding it in a nearby hollowed out tree. Macleod was arrested for the murder and quickly confessed. He was sentenced to the gallows. Since 1830, each year on 11 March, the sickening noise of lead hitting flesh is heard, followed by a long sigh then running footsteps.
On the shore of the Loch Assynt stands Castle Ardvreck, occupied for nearly one hundred years by an old dowager who liked nothing more than stirring up gossip in the area. One such piece of gossip concerned her daughter-in-law, who the old dowager despised and who had just given birth to a baby boy.