The Storyteller: Popping over to Pixieland

On my latest road trip with David Hammond, to record some more tales for our South Devon Folklore segment on his Riviera FM radio show, I decided to make a stop at Pixieland.

As we are rapidly approaching the longer, sunnier months that surround Midsummer, a time of the year made famous by Shakespeare's play that is dominated by fairy folk, I thought it would be timely to regale the audience with stories of Dartmoor’s equivalent...the Pixies. What better place to sit and record my musings than the oasis of folklore, just up the hill from Dartmeet, that is Pixieland?

Ever since I started driving around the moors when I arrived in Torbay back in 1987, I’ve always had a soft spot for the attraction, taking every opportunity to stop there and share its magic with family, friends and visitors alike. The chance to dress up in a pointed hat and waistcoat has always appealed to me.

My avatar picture, on my Facebook page, shows me sitting on a toadstool, on this occasion, colourfully dressed and pixie-like. This was taken there on my 40th birthday, during a trip around the moors with friends. Many similar pictures have been taken over the years, but this remains my favourite.

Pixieland is magical for old and young alike. When I introduced my friend’s little girl to it, we encouraged her to make a wish as she dropped a coin into the big wishing well.

Having done so, we asked her what she had wished for, and without hesitation she said, “A lion!” They do say if you tell someone what you’ve wished for, it jinxes it, but, on this occasion, my partner, Sarah, and I decided to grant her wish by buying a cuddly lion and sending it to her in the post, along with a message from the pixies...she loved it! The next time we took her there, she again made a wish; this time it was for a tiger... Can you find a cuddly tiger when you want one?

On this visit, I had a chat with the current owner, who is in the process of trying to sell the business. So if anyone has the desire to invest in a special part of the Dartmoor landscape, then look no further...

As we chatted, she told me a little bit about the building’s history. Originally built as tearooms for the guests of the nearby Forest Inn, they were transported by pony and trap from their lodgings for afternoon tea. This put them in direct competition with a business further down the hill. There is a story that suggests a convict, escaping from the notorious Dartmoor Prison, one harsh winter, found his way to the tearooms for shelter. Finding the place unbearably cold, he lit a fire...and we all know what happens when you light a fire on Dartmoor?

It got out of hand, and the place burnt down, to be rebuilt and reopened in the form that we know it today, starting to trade in 1947. However, it is possible this tale hides a different story, one of professional jealousy...but that’s not mine to tell...

What I did share with David, for his audience, whilst we were in the area, is one of my favourite pixie-related stories, concerning nearby Bellever Tor and a local farmhand, by the name of Tom White...

Tom lived and worked on a farm in Postbridge, but he had a girlfriend who lived in Huccaby, on the other side of Bellever Forest. Every day, after work, it was his routine to go and visit her and share a meal together before returning home afterwards. One night, Tom was later than usual leaving, and as it was already quite dark, he chose to walk back, closer to the tor, rather than through the gloomy forest.

As he approached the outcrops at the foot of the slope, his attention was drawn to the sound of music and laughter coming from amongst the rocks. Being a curious chap, he had to take a look at where it was coming from. Imagine his surprise when he spied a dell full of pixies, enjoying a revelry, dancing to tunes played by a group of musicians! Having seen enough, he attempted to duck out of sight, but they spotted him, and instead of running from a human intruder, they took him by the hands and made him dance with them for the rest of the night...

Now pixies are notorious for their all-night raves, and they didn’t stop twirling and spinning poor Tom until the sun came up. It was only then that they scurried off to their homes amongst the rocks, leaving him lying, exhausted, on the ground. He finally fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the sun was high in the sky. Realising he was very late for work, he ran home, preparing himself for the trouble he was going to be in with his boss.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell the farmer why he was so late; instead, he vowed never to venture out onto the moors again...which meant he never got to see his girlfriend again, and she never found out why she was so cruelly dumped...but it was all because of those pesky little pixies!

Pixies are often said to be both mischievous and benevolent at the same time, but there are some occasions where they can be quite cruel too...

There was once a country midwife, living in the Holne area of the moor, who was once rudely awakened, in the middle of the night, by a loud knocking on her door. This was all part of her job: to be summoned at all hours of the day and night, so she wasn’t surprised to find a hooded stranger standing on her doorstep, pleading for her help, as his wife was in labour.

Accompanying the husband on his horse, she was taken to an old shack in the middle of a wood, where she was shown into a bedroom containing a woman about to give birth. Having helped safely deliver a healthy little boy, the husband made a strange request. Passing her a jar of ointment, he asked her to rub some on the child’s eyes. The midwife obliged, and afterwards she inadvertently rubbed some on her own right eye. Instantly, the shack was transformed into a stunning mansion house, and she realised she was in the presence of pixie folk, having come under the influence of some of their magic.

Managing to contain her surprise, the pixie thanked her profusely and rode her back to her home. A week later, she was in the local market when she saw the father again, strutting between the stalls in his pixie finery. Without thinking, she approached him and asked after the health of his wife and child. The pixie turned on her, accusing the midwife of using the ointment on her own eyes, enabling her to still see him.

Demanding to know from which eye she had sight of him, the frightened woman pointed to her right eye. Instantly, the pixie thrust his pointy finger into the offending orb, thus blinding her. Screaming out in agony, the poor midwife clasped her hand to her bleeding eye socket. From her left eye, she saw the now hooded stranger scuttling away...from her right eye, she never saw anything again...

Saying farewell to Pixieland, we headed off towards Burrator Reservoir and our next stop for a storytelling session. Parking by the dam, we walked in the direction of Sheepstor village, choosing a bench on the edge of the water to continue the tales. Above us rose the heights of Sheepstor itself, and I commented how apt this was, as that was also a home to pixie folk, for amongst the rocky outcrops is to be found the Pixie Cave.

Once again, I related my history of good fortune from leaving my offerings for the wee folk under rocks, as well as in the cave itself. I reminded David how our last visit to the area was curtailed by bad weather and resulted in the misfortune of my car refusing to start. This I put down to the fact that we hadn’t left the pixies the promised offerings.

On this occasion, I made it quite clear that we weren’t visiting them, so they weren’t missing out, and we got home without any mishaps. Maybe I have an affinity with the pixies of Dartmoor? Maybe I should hold a session of storytelling, especially about them? Maybe you should watch this space...

PS As I was writing this article, I had notification that I’d won £30 on the Lotto...thank you, pixies!