Neil Jopson's Blog - Posts Tagged "lake-district"
Mysterious tarns of the Lake District
I have been asked, is 'The Tarn' based on a real place?
The answer is both yes and no.
'The Tarn' is set somewhere near Keswick, and includes elements of personal recollections of time spent tramping around the English Lake District. Tarns always fascinated me as a child. Dark patches of unfathomable water dropped amongst the craggy rocks and windy peaks. There was the way the sunlight seemed to shatter into a thousand diamonds when it hit the surface on a beautiful day. How that surface could lie as flat as a tarmacked car park, or gently ripple as a gust of wind skidded over it. And it is delightful yet unsurprising to find that they have fascinated many generations before me.
In the folklore of the Lake District there are two tarns not far from Keswick, that have supernatural tales attached to them. Unlike the figure in my story, there is nothing menacing about these legends. Rather they are enchanting, and a chance to think about the people who once lived in the area. The stories told before railways and motorways made access by outsiders so much easier.
Nestled in the steep sides of Saddleback are Bowscale and Scales Tarn. Two miles separate them. Scales Tarn is alleged to be bottomless. And it is said that if you look at the water at midday, you will see the stars of night laid out before you. As I wrote earlier, I have seen the surface of tarns glitter in the sunlight on many of my walks, so I can well imagine how this story came to be.
Bowscale, meanwhile, is said to be home to a pair of immortal fish. They even get a shout out from Wordsworth, who describes
'…the undying fish that swim
Through Bowscale-tarn….'
Two tarns with a touch of mystery. But it is a sense of charm, rather than terror, that these tales leave us with. And that reflects the experience of walking in the Lake District. Once you get away from the honeypots, and the crowd of tourists thins out, there is enchantment. Even when the rain descends so heavily it destroys the boundary between earth and sky and you feel like one of those fish in Bowscale. Destroying the boundaries between heaven and earth is what the Lake District is good at. Just ask Wordsworth and friends.
The answer is both yes and no.
'The Tarn' is set somewhere near Keswick, and includes elements of personal recollections of time spent tramping around the English Lake District. Tarns always fascinated me as a child. Dark patches of unfathomable water dropped amongst the craggy rocks and windy peaks. There was the way the sunlight seemed to shatter into a thousand diamonds when it hit the surface on a beautiful day. How that surface could lie as flat as a tarmacked car park, or gently ripple as a gust of wind skidded over it. And it is delightful yet unsurprising to find that they have fascinated many generations before me.
In the folklore of the Lake District there are two tarns not far from Keswick, that have supernatural tales attached to them. Unlike the figure in my story, there is nothing menacing about these legends. Rather they are enchanting, and a chance to think about the people who once lived in the area. The stories told before railways and motorways made access by outsiders so much easier.
Nestled in the steep sides of Saddleback are Bowscale and Scales Tarn. Two miles separate them. Scales Tarn is alleged to be bottomless. And it is said that if you look at the water at midday, you will see the stars of night laid out before you. As I wrote earlier, I have seen the surface of tarns glitter in the sunlight on many of my walks, so I can well imagine how this story came to be.
Bowscale, meanwhile, is said to be home to a pair of immortal fish. They even get a shout out from Wordsworth, who describes
'…the undying fish that swim
Through Bowscale-tarn….'
Two tarns with a touch of mystery. But it is a sense of charm, rather than terror, that these tales leave us with. And that reflects the experience of walking in the Lake District. Once you get away from the honeypots, and the crowd of tourists thins out, there is enchantment. Even when the rain descends so heavily it destroys the boundary between earth and sky and you feel like one of those fish in Bowscale. Destroying the boundaries between heaven and earth is what the Lake District is good at. Just ask Wordsworth and friends.
Ghosts and the tarns of Grasmere
Water is a great place for a lost spirit. And the tarns of the Lake District are no exception. Within walking distance of Grasmere, there are three said to host spirits.
· Easedale Tarn already has a mark against it, being unpopular with none other than Wordsworth. He thought of it as a place of bad weather and dull sky. But maybe he also heard that there was a lost soul trapped there, constantly trying to find its way to the spirit world.
· If one lost soul is not enough, head higher up and reach Codale Tarn. This tarn not only has a soul searching for freedom; they say that if you look closely into its surface, you can see the dead staring back. As the waters from Codale flow down to Easedale, one can’t help but wonder if the lost soul of Easedale is the same one as Codale, desperately travelling from one to the other in its search for the next world. As for the faces of the dead, Codale is about as far away from the living as you can get in England. The Perfect place if you are hoping for eternal rest.
· Alcock Tarn lies on the other side of Grasmere. This piece of water was expanded by and named after James Alcock in the 19th century. The story goes that if you stand on the shoreline in the evening, you may see a mysterious spirit appear out of the mist or reflected in the light of the moon.
These are all great tales, yet none of them directly inspired my short story The Tarn. But there was one tale I heard when I was a schoolboy that stuck with me and influenced my little story of terror. It was in the Lake District, and it was on water, but it wasn’t on a tarn.
But that’s a topic for my next blog post.
· Easedale Tarn already has a mark against it, being unpopular with none other than Wordsworth. He thought of it as a place of bad weather and dull sky. But maybe he also heard that there was a lost soul trapped there, constantly trying to find its way to the spirit world.
· If one lost soul is not enough, head higher up and reach Codale Tarn. This tarn not only has a soul searching for freedom; they say that if you look closely into its surface, you can see the dead staring back. As the waters from Codale flow down to Easedale, one can’t help but wonder if the lost soul of Easedale is the same one as Codale, desperately travelling from one to the other in its search for the next world. As for the faces of the dead, Codale is about as far away from the living as you can get in England. The Perfect place if you are hoping for eternal rest.
· Alcock Tarn lies on the other side of Grasmere. This piece of water was expanded by and named after James Alcock in the 19th century. The story goes that if you stand on the shoreline in the evening, you may see a mysterious spirit appear out of the mist or reflected in the light of the moon.
These are all great tales, yet none of them directly inspired my short story The Tarn. But there was one tale I heard when I was a schoolboy that stuck with me and influenced my little story of terror. It was in the Lake District, and it was on water, but it wasn’t on a tarn.
But that’s a topic for my next blog post.
The real story behind The Tarn
The idea for The Tarn germinated in the hinterland of my memory. I thought I’d read a tale nearly 30 years before, about a boatman who terrorised Windermere. In my mind a hooded figure loomed like the ferryman to Hades, Death, or the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. But when I looked the old tale up it turned out my memory was wrong. I’d been provided with the cornerstone of my story, but the material it was formed from had no hooded figure in it at all. Not that it mattered, it still helped me create my first ‘ghost story.’
The misremembered tale did involve ferrymen, Windermere and terrorised residents. It was said to have taken place on the route of the current car ferry at Bowness Nab. Originally the ferry was a rowboat and the ferrymen, living in cottages along the banks of Windermere, would respond to the needs of travellers as and when they arrived. One night, as the foul weather kept the ferrymen snuggly in the local pub, a voice could be heard calling over the lake. Whether he needed the money or felt a sense of duty, one ferryman decided to cross the water and fetch the poor traveller caught out in the storm. It was a while before he returned, alone, pale and unable to speak, dying hours later. It was said that the voice could be heard calling during stormy nights; though no ferryman was foolish enough to heed it. Eventually a priest was called in to perform an exorcism and banish the spirit (if that is what it was) to a quarry; where it remains to this day….
It's a great tale, one among many to be found in the Lake District. Writing about it has caused a few more ideas to form for stories of my own. Maybe it sparked one or two for you. Don’t forget you can use my summary of MR James’s guidelines for writing an English ghost story to help you if you fancy trying your hand at writing it down. I also hope that I might have encouraged you to visit what I believe is one of the most beautiful places in the world; the English Lake District. Be warned though: there might be strange spirits about. And there definitely will be a chance of rain.
The TarnThe TarnNeil JopsonMontague Rhodes James
The misremembered tale did involve ferrymen, Windermere and terrorised residents. It was said to have taken place on the route of the current car ferry at Bowness Nab. Originally the ferry was a rowboat and the ferrymen, living in cottages along the banks of Windermere, would respond to the needs of travellers as and when they arrived. One night, as the foul weather kept the ferrymen snuggly in the local pub, a voice could be heard calling over the lake. Whether he needed the money or felt a sense of duty, one ferryman decided to cross the water and fetch the poor traveller caught out in the storm. It was a while before he returned, alone, pale and unable to speak, dying hours later. It was said that the voice could be heard calling during stormy nights; though no ferryman was foolish enough to heed it. Eventually a priest was called in to perform an exorcism and banish the spirit (if that is what it was) to a quarry; where it remains to this day….
It's a great tale, one among many to be found in the Lake District. Writing about it has caused a few more ideas to form for stories of my own. Maybe it sparked one or two for you. Don’t forget you can use my summary of MR James’s guidelines for writing an English ghost story to help you if you fancy trying your hand at writing it down. I also hope that I might have encouraged you to visit what I believe is one of the most beautiful places in the world; the English Lake District. Be warned though: there might be strange spirits about. And there definitely will be a chance of rain.
The TarnThe TarnNeil JopsonMontague Rhodes James
