Phantom in the Fog

One of the most frequent questions I have been asked over the years is "have you ever seen a ghost?" to which I have to reply in all honesty '"No". Having said this however, allow me to tell you of my own encounter with something possibly supernatural in origin .

On a visit to Skegness some time ago, I met up with an old friend of mine who I hadn`t seen for quite a while. We got reminiscing about the past and during the course of our conversation we spoke of the strange incident of which I am about to tell.

Some twenty odd years ago I lived in a shoddy one-roomed bed sit on Skegness sea front. By contrast my Friend Chris lived on the very edge of the Gibraltar Point Nature Reserve, a beauty spot a few miles from the town.

Then as now I enjoyed going on long solitary walks in the countryside. But in those days it was one of the few ways of escaping the claustrophobia of my tiny bed sit, and the hoards of noisy holiday makers that crowded the streets and pubs of Skegness during the busy summer months.

One evening on one of my solitary outings, I found myself near the golf course to the south of the town, beyond it lay a long narrow unlit road leading to the Gibraltar Point Nature Reserve. It was starting to get dark and a thick mist was rolling in from the sea but without thinking of time or distance I decided to press on for the reserve. As I have already mentioned Chris lived on the very edge of the nature reserve and since I was heading that way I decided to call him from a nearby phone box to ask him if he would care to join me on my pointless meander. As luck would have it Chris was at home, he had nothing better to do so it was arranged that he would set off and meet up with me on the road roughly half way to the reserve.

I continued at a brisk pace, and soon the last of the street lights receded into the distance behind me, while ahead lay a dark narrow unlit road made less inviting by an ever worsening fog. After walking some distance, the fog became so bad that my visibility had decreased to only a few feet and I could not distinguish the road from the verge. Concerned by the obvious dangers posed by traffic, I started to regret undertaking such a pointless and increasingly hazardous journey, and I would have certainly turned back were it not for the knowledge that by now Chris was somewhere on the road up ahead. I stopped for a while to get my bearings, and it was then that I heard the unmistakable sound of heavy hoof-beats fast approaching. Who on earth was out riding a horse in this weather? I thought and as the galloping got nearer I felt the first intimations of fear.

I was on the narrowest section of the road, and I was sure the horse and its reckless rider would be unable to see me in the dense fog. So in my panic I stumbled blindly on to the verge, aware that each faltering step I took could send me tumbling into a barbed wire fence or worse, a deep water filled ditch. I stood motionless as the hoof-beats thundered passed, the sound was so close that despite the fog I could see where the horse should have been but there was nothing! As the galloping receded into the distance I resumed my journey feeling both puzzled and unnerved by the experience.

I pressed on till I almost collided with a figure in the fog walking in the opposite direction. It was Chris he was equally shaken, as he had just had exactly the same experience further up the road. But our conversation was interrupted when the ethereal sound of hoof beats returned. But this time the drumming of hoof-beats now seemed to be circling us at an impossible speed, getting louder and louder one moment and then fading into the distance the next. Not wishing to hang around a moment longer, we headed back to chris` house as fast as the going would allow us.

Later we puzzled over the incident. We were in no doubt that we had both heard a horse in full gallop out there on the road, yet there was nothing to account for it. At length however, we decided that the fog had played tricks on our judgement of distance, and in time the incident was all but forgotten.

That is until some twelve years later when I was now living in Lincoln and working as a city tour guide. One afternoon I was swotting up on local history in the reference section of the public library, when by chance I came across a cutting from an unspecified publication, that provided one possible tantalising clue to the mystery. You can imagine my surprise when I read the following:

" A legend dating from the 1700`s has it that a farmer, on his way home from Gibraltar Point to Skegness market, tried to take his horse on a short cut along the beach, but lost his way in the fog and was drowned at high tide. Since then it is said that the frenzied sounds of ghostly hoof-beats have been heard at Gibraltar Point on foggy nights."

See my article "Paranormal Lincs" in the latest edition of "Paranormal" magazine (September issue 39)

The Haunted Highway

Two friends of mine recently told me of their encounter on the road with what they could only describe as a "ghost". It happened on a clear frosty night in February 2003, when the couple were driving along the A1086 road to the village of Grasby to collect their daughter from her grandparents house. As they approached a turning leading to the village of Ownby a figure with its head bowed and "wearing a kind of tweed-patterned overcoat with the hood up "Stepped from the verge straight out in front of them. There was a screech of brakes and they could only watch helplessly as an imminent collision between car and hapless jay-walker was inevitable. The impact never came however, because the figure simply vanished into thin air. They stopped the car and got out to look but the road was empty and deserted. The couple have since found out that years earlier the body of a murder victim was found close to the spot where the apparition appeared.

My Friends` unnerving encounter has prompted me to recount the following purportedly true stories of paranormal happenings on some of Lincolnshire`s highways and byways. Starting with a haunting that took place in the 1950`s on the A16. near the hamlet of Walmsgate. Motorists travelling this stretch of road reported seeing a green glowing mist come out of an old sandstone pit, which then drifted across the road and disappeared onto fields on the other side. The place became known as "Green man Pit" because the mist, according to some was said to take the shape of a man. One night a driver travelling towards Walmsgate stopped his car when he saw a glowing green figure emerge from a copse and onto the road in front of him. The figure dashed towards the car and the terrified driver could only watch in disbelief as the apparition ran straight passed him and disappeared into the night. It is interesting to note that a Neolithic long barrow, the biggest in the county and said to be the grave of a dragon slain by a local knight in the 12th century, is situated just north of the road here. Such ancient sites have long been associated with paranormal activity. A more recent encounter with a phantom of the road occurred in June 2006, when two holiday makers from Leicester reported seeing an old man wearing "A Jacket, trousers and a cloth cap that looked to be from the turn of the century" riding an equally old fashioned looking bicycle along the middle of the Louth bypass. It happened in the afternoon between London Road and the A157 roundabout. They said the man was only a short distance in front of them but when they drove closer both cycle and cyclist vanished into thin air.

Sightings of the ubiquitous phantom coach and horses have become increasingly rarer since the advent of the motor car, but they are still occasionally reported. For example a lady driving along the A169 between Louth and Grimsby related her experience of this phenomenon to Jared Williams in the "Lincolnshire Life" of April 1985. She said: "I was driving down to Grimsby just as day was breaking. As I approached the village of Waithe I was surprised to see a horse-drawn cab ahead of me and going in the same direction. As it had no lights I thought I `d better over take and tell the driver. I did so. But when I looked in the driving mirror the road was empty. And there was no turning this cab could have taken."

Much has been written over the years about the ghostly Green Lady that haunts Thorpe Hall, a Tudor mansion situated near Louth. The ghost is said to be the shade of a beautiful Spanish noble woman who was taken prisoner after the battle of Cadiz in 1595 , by Sir John Bolle, the then owner of Thorpe Hall. It is said that during her captivity the lady fell in love with Sir John, and according to one dubious legend she killed herself when her love for him was unrequited. The fact she never visited Thorpe Hall (nor England) during her life time, has not stopped reports of her ghost dressed in green (giving rise to her being called the Green Lady) haunting the hall and its environs down through the centuries. The Reverend HJF Arnold, a former vicar of Wainfleet, had a most strange encounter with green lady ghost, because he claimed to have seen her on a road many miles from her usual haunting ground of Thorpe Hall. It happened on a rainy December evening in 1935, as the Revd was driving to Aisthorpe, near Lincoln. Suddenly in the glare of his headlamps he saw a woman step into the road in front of him: "Alarmed lest I should run into her I applied my brakes and stopped. I took my eyes off her for a second while getting into neatral gear and in that second she had disappeared. Revd Arnold was later convinced the woman he saw "dressed in green silk, a tight bodice and flowing skirt, with bare head, arms and neck, was none other than the Green Lady of Thorpe Hall. He based this assumption on a rather tenuous conection that a manssion belonging to a relative of Sir John Bolle had once stood at nearby Scampton.

Not all spectres of the road take human form. At "Double Tunnels" between Fulstow and North Thoresby it was said that " something used to role across the road and frighten horses". Nobody liked to drive there at night and many accidents occurred where the thing was seen.

More traditional road hauntings include the sounds of a ghostly horse and cart in Ings Lane Utterby, and in the same village a ghostly woman in a cloak has been seen running across the road in Pear Tree Lane. There are also a variety of headless ghosts including a headless bride who walks the lanes of Scremby at midnight, and the phantom coach of Ostlers Lane Maidenwell, with a driver who keeps his own severed head on a seat besides him. However, none of the above have been seen to my knowledge within living memory and I suspect they are folklore rather than actual phenomenon. Unless of coarse you know different!

Haunted Trees

I took these photographs of a weird looking tree stump when out walking in woodlands last autumn. Not only did its strange configurations remind of the mask worn by the various killers in the scream movies, but it also reminded me of the once common superstition that certain tress had an attraction for evil spirits.

A letter dated 7th July 1606, gives an account of one such haunted tree at Brampton, near Gainsborough. The letter states:

"An ash-tree shaketh in body and boughs thereof, sighing and groaning like a man troubled in his sleep, as if it felt some sensible torment. Many have climbed to the top of it, who heard the groans more easily than they could below."

At length the Earl of Lincoln had one of the arms of the ash lopped off and a hole bored through the trunk. This caused the hollow voice from within to be heard more audibly than before, but in a kind of speech that nobody could understand.

The Suicide Tree

In Fishtoft near Boston, an ancient Hawthorn tree, once stood at a road junction leading to Tower Lane and Fishtoft church. Once a local land mark, the tree is mentioned in the Fishtoft Acre Books for 1662, 1733 , and 1733, and it was once shown on a map of the area. Those travelling the low road to Frieston in years gone by Knew the tree well, but sadly much of the folklore attached it is now lost to antiquity. However, in "The History and Antiquities of Boston" (1856) author Pishey Thompson claimed that the tree grew from the stake driven into the grave of a suicide buried at the crossroads, a memorial that was common centuries ago.

Thompson says: '' We have heard of the name of the particular female said to have been ignominiously interred here and many particulars respecting her, more than a century ago; but do not recollect them."

Charms and Superstitions

The photo opposite is of a mummified cat which I keep at home on a table in a glass case. Now before you think me more than a little weird to own such a grisly item and display it in my home then allow me to explain. Prior to the late 18th century, it was common practice particularly in rural communities, to conceal lucky charms in newly constructed houses. When over the years many of these building were demolished or modernised, it was not unusual to find leather shoes, pins, and old fashioned tobacco- pipe heads, hidden in chimney stacks and wall cavities, put there for the purpose of protecting the house and its occupant from all manor of evil spirits. A more familiar version of this superstition is the nailing of horseshoes on the inside and outside of houses, as it was believed that the Devil would be repelled by the touch of cold iron.

Perhaps the most grotesque of these lucky charms are the great many mummified cats found immured in walls or attic spaces of many old houses throughout Britain. Folklorist suggest they were put there in the belief that the spirit of the dead animal would protect the house from vermin and possibly witchcraft.

The mummified cat in my possession was found in a wall above the fire place of a mid 18th century mud and stud cottage (walls made from mud and straw) during extensive renovations of the property in 1992. The cottage presently the family home is situated in a small village in the Lincolnshire wolds. Similarly there are cases on record of dogs who have died and then been buried within the house in the belief that their canine spirits would protect the occupants from evil spirits seeking to enter the building at night.

Both of these bizarre customs may possibly stem from the "Church Grim", the ancient practice of sacrificing an animal on the foundations of a new church so that its spirit would defend the building from devils and evil spirits: a pagan practice that lasted well into the Christian era.

There are to date over a hundred mummified cats on record, but the one in my possession, as far as I am aware is the only example in Lincolnshire. However, if any one knows of any others then I would be interested to know.

Dog or Demon?

Ghostly black dogs feature prominently in the folklore of Lincolnshire. There are over 75 Black Dog haunting`s recorded from the county, more than two thirds of them documented by the folklorist Ethel Rudkin in her 1938 paper on the subject. In parts of East Anglia black dogs are associated with disaster and death, but in Lincolnshire they are considered to be harmless even friendly creatures which warn against imminent danger, or guard lone travellers on bleak stretches of road. I myself once saw a Black Dog, but that as they say is another story. The one I am about to tell was told to me some years ago by an old man who claimed to have known the farm worker it concerned, but friendly would most certainly not have been the adjective used to describe the phantom hound he encountered.

The man was ploughing fields somewhere on the outskirts of the village of Hemswell (an area well known for its black dog haunting`s) when he uncovered the bones of a large animal. At first he thought it was merely the remains of a calf or a donkey, but on closer inspection he found that the creature`s skull had vicious looking canine teeth. Knowing his friends down at his local pub would be intrigued by his grisly find, he put the skull into a sack, threw it over his shoulder and set off for home. The swift darkness of a cold winter`s evening descended as he tramped along the lonely winding lane leading to his isolated cottage, but on reaching the halfway point of his journey, a gradual feeling of unease began to creep over him. Continually he found himself stopping and looking over his shoulder, but all he saw was the dark empty road flanked both sides by hedges and the twisted bare branches of tall trees. Just as he had convinced himself that his imagination was playing tricks, he heard the lumbering foot-falls and panting of some large animal fast approaching. Turning once again he saw bounding towards him the most enormous dog he had ever seen. Its coat was shaggy and black, its slavering mouth curled into a grin to reveal its lethal looking canine teeth and its baleful saucer eyes seemed to be lit from within the sockets like two red burning coals. With a scream of horror the man turned and ran, the ground shook as the dreadful creature gave chase and as it drew ever nearer, he could feel its hot acrid breath on the back of his neck. Knowing the thing would soon be upon him, he turned brandishing the only weapon he possessed. Holding the sack aloft, he brought it crashing down on to the head of the charging monster. The bag tore open shattering the skull into a thousand pieces, with that the hell hound gave an unearthly howl and vanished in a flash of green fire.

Not surprisingly the man became a laughing stock when he told of his terrifying encounter. However, his friends could not laugh off so easy the sudden change in his disposition. The farmer once noted for his easy going and gregarious nature became morose and reclusive. His nerves too had greatly suffered, the rumble of an approaching thunder storm had him visibly shaking and running for home. And the sight of a farm dog strolling the lanes on a winters afternoon has cost him more than one nights sleep.

The Headless Horseman

In the eastern area of the Linconshire Wolds is an old track that runs from the hamlets of Scamblesby to Farforth and Ruckland, along which the terrifying apparition of a headless horseman is reputed to gallop. Some years ago when I was researching the folklore of this picturesque part of the county I was told the origin of the phantom by a couple who had lived in the district for many years. The story is as follows. One morning some two hundred years ago a crowd assembled on Gallows Hill to watch the execution of a highwayman who had terrorised the district for some months. As the condemned man was taken by horse and cart to a makeshift gallows, an ominous rumble of thunder portended a mighty storm. As the hangman moved to place a noose around his neck, the first flash of lightning was succeeded instantly by a thunder clap so loud it took the entire assembly by surprise. All that is except the highway man who sized his chance. He slipped his bonds and leaped from the cart onto the back of a snowy white horse mounted by an officer of the law, who was easily dislodged. The highway man dug his heels into the flanks of the startled animal which flew at a gallop through the protesting crowd. But as he urged his mount onwards with greater speed, a solider drew his sword and aimed a glancing blow at the rider which cut his head clean from his body. The head rolled down the sloping road and landed with a splash in the waters of the ford below. The horse its whiteness now speckled with the riders dabbled blood, continued hell for leather, its grisly decapitated mount still in place feet in stirrups and hands clutching the reins. According to local legend on June 11th each year phantom horse and headless rider are still attempting the journey to this day.