The Storyteller: Walking the way of the dead

Another sunny day tempted me out onto Dartmoor the other week.

This time, after a morning distributing posters for my May Ghost Walks and a meeting to arrange a free evening of storytelling at The East Dart Inn in Postbridge on 2 June, I found myself walking part of the Lych Way, or the Way of the Dead...

The Lych Way dates back to the 1200s, when it was the law of the land that all burials were to take place in the parish church, which was most unfortunate for the residents of Dartmoor, as they happened to live in the largest parish in the country, albeit most of it was a barren wilderness back then. It still meant that those dying in the southern part had to be transported northwards to the parish church at Lydford, on the northwestern edge.

This arduous task involved teams of pallbearers carrying the deceased in their coffins or transported on a coffin cart or bier, either by hand or horse drawn, across some of the most unforgiving terrain in the country, which is why the army likes to train there to this day. The route covered by the Lych Way was supposedly the easiest way to achieve this, even though it climbs many hills and involves crossing several rivers.

In my time, I’ve walked parts of it for letterboxing purposes, including the end section, which crosses the rifle range at Willsworthy (you have to pick your moment to do that when the army isn’t present or risk taking the trip along the Lych Way yourself!), which has views of the route’s destination at Lydford church.

I’ve touched on the central, boggier section once or twice (still not much fun to cross), but mainly I’ve walked the beginning of the route, starting in Bellever Forest, crossing the road towards the Powdermills (near Hairy Hands territory), before rising up towards Longaford and Higher White Tors, then dipping down to cross the West Dart, above Wistmans Wood, at the aptly named ford.

It then continues on to Lydford Tor, with Devil’s Tor and Beardown Man menhir close by for a detour, and another drop down to cross the Cowsic at Traveller’s Ford...and that’s as far as I’ve got to date, but one day I might manage the whole route. It was this starting section that I covered again the other week...

As you can imagine, such an ancient track, with such a morbid purpose, has engendered its fair share of folklore and spooky stories over time, and that’s why it holds such a fascination for me. Certain sections, like Coffin Wood, Corpse Lane, and even the Coffin Stone, all have their own tales to tell...

In Coffin Wood, it is said that, on certain nights, a team of pallbearers, complete with flaming torches, has been seen standing around, patiently waiting their turn to carry an unfortunate member of their community on the last leg of their journey along a stretch known as Corpse Lane; a band of hooded, brother monks, carrying a coffin on their shoulders; whilst at the Coffin Stone, high above the waters of Dartmeet, can be seen the results of what happens when not even God wants a particularly wicked man buried in his holy ground!

Instead, he strikes him with a thunderbolt, instantly incinerating both coffin and occupant, possibly performing the first cremation! If you visit that spot today, you will see that this rock has been split in two by this act of God, and each half bears the names, initials and even doodles inscribed there by the many pallbearers as they awaited their turn...

The residents of Dartmoor felt particularly aggrieved that their loved ones had to undergo this particularly arduous final journey when they died, made increasingly more difficult during the harsh winter months, as illustrated by the experience of a poor, unsuspecting traveller, who spent the night next to a corpse when the landlord’s father died and had to be salted down whilst they waited for the snow to thaw before he could be transported for burial.

Finally, in 1260, the disgruntled natives petitioned the then Bishop of Exeter, one Walter Bronscombe (the same Bishop who has been immortalised in the Branscombe’s Loaf story, where an outcrop has been named after him, high up on Corn Ridge, marking the spot where he once, allegedly, encountered the Devil himself!). He took pity on them, decreeing that, henceforth, burials would be allowed at Widecombe in the Moor, to the south, and, over the years, other local churches followed suit. So, if you wish to see the oldest graves on the moor, head for Lydford...everywhere else dates from 1260...

Meanwhile, back on my recent walk, having started at the moor gate by Bellever Forest, I took a shortcut through the newtake above Powdermills, as I was after some letterboxes near Higher White Tor, a route I’d not taken before, and then gradually made my way down to the West Dart. Here, I was able to cross safely at the weir, by Wistman’s Wood Ford, and picked up the route of the Lych Way for my journey back. On this occasion, as the sun hadn’t yet started to set, I had the time, and the daylight, to examine, more closely, the terrain I was walking over, and it is really quite distinctive.

You’ve got a central patch of longer grass, not touched by walking feet, with two wide strips of well-trod ground either side, where the feet of many coffin carriers and the wheels of their carts would have passed, repetitiously, over the years. It’s very easy to imagine these scenes of compassion for the recently deceased, even though it wouldn’t have been easy for those tasked with this undertaking. In fact, I was so wrapped up in my musings about these historic events that I possibly actually felt a connection with the spirits of those once transported this way. At one point, I felt sharp pains in my head; at another, in my stomach.

Both were fleeting and then gone. Was I picking up on the pain of the deceased, showing me how they died? Several times throughout my life, I’ve felt the pain of those close to me, knowing that it wasn’t actually my own pain, as it didn’t persist, so maybe I’m susceptible to this sort of thing in the same way I know that many of my friends are, who experience similar things during our investigations of haunted properties. I will certainly be more aware next time I’m walking in that area.

Another unusual thing happened as I neared the spot where I had parked. As I stepped across a narrow strip of boggy ground, it felt like I was walking through a heat barrier. The temperature in the air definitely felt raised at that spot as I crossed it. I know sensitives often talk of cold spots when dealing with spirits, but a hot spot is new to me. Maybe this is a phenomenon peculiar to that part of the moor and, in particular, the Lych Way?

As a result of these odd experiences during that walk, I would love to know if anyone else has ever encountered anything unusual whilst exploring that part of Dartmoor? You can contact me via email atdavidtiptrips@gmail.com, or why not join me at one of my upcoming events so we can chat in person? As always, I look forward to meeting you.