Welcome to Historic Glossop

Welcome to Historic Glossop , Historic Glossop is a website to let you know all about Glossop's history. This website is full of ghost stories, historic facts, things to do and loads more. 

Glossop is a market town within the Borough of High Peak in Derbyshire, England. It lies on the Glossop Brook, a tributary of the River Etherow.Glossop has a total resident population of 32,428 according to the 2001 census.


Glossop has been included as pilot in the Liveability scheme, and has drawn up the Glossop Vision masterplan for the improvement and gentrification of the town. This is being partially funded by the Heritage Lottery Fund. It aims to open up access to the Glossop Brook, to coordinate developments in Glossop town centre, to enhance the built environment and to link the town to its wider setting. As such, the mills have become a retail development with housing, trees are to be planted along the A57 and the market square is being pedestrianised

More Information

The information used on this site has been made possible by the hard work and dedication of a number of people and organisations in the Glossop area to who I owe thanks, for further information some of these are listed below along with some other information which may be useful

Thomas Middletons Legends of Longdendale
Celtic Stone Head Cult
Glossop Heritage Trust
Glossop.com
CarlsCam
Glossop Workhouse
Paranormal Database
Dr David Clarke 

The Legend of Alman’s Death

Thomas Middleton was a local Justice of the Peace and in 1906 produced a book. The Legends of Longdendale, being a collection of local folk tales.

One of his tales, The Legend of Almans Death is reproduced here.

"When the Roman general, Julius Agricola completed the subjugation of the Britons, he began to prepare for a permanent occupation of the country by erecting a series of strong military stations or forts throughout the entire kingdom. A number of these fortresses were built in Cheshire, Lancashire, and Derbyshire, and among the rest was Melandra Castle, erected on the banks of the river Etherow, in what is now known as the township of Gamesley. This fort was established about the end of the first century of the Christian era; it was well built and was of considerable size; moreover its importance was increased because it commanded the hill country north and east of Longdendale. It proved an admirable means of driving back the raids which the scattered hill-tribes were fond of making on the rich lands of the valley. The Romans originally called the fort “Zedrotalia,” but, on account of its standing in a district where oak trees were plentiful, it came to be known by its present name. Melandra is said to be a Roman name derived from the Greek Melandryon, which signifies “The heart of oak,” or “The heart in the oak,” and is supposed to have reference to the fact that the forests of Longdendale were noted for their splendid oaks at the time when the Romans built their station.
 
The site of the Castle has been excavated during the years 1899-1905, and the result of this has been the securing of ample proof that Melandra was a station of great strength and importance. The foundations of walls of considerable thickness, with the masonry still solid and straight as on the day when it was laid, have been unearthed. Pieces of pottery, broken weapons, and coins have been found. There is also an inscribed stone containing the inscription—“Cohortis Primæ Frisianorum Centurio Valerius Vitalis.” Dr. Watson, the eminent antiquary, translates this into “The Cohort of the First Frisians, Centurion Valerius Vitalis.” The Frisians were troops attached to the renowned Twentieth Legion—the “Valiant and Victorious”—and Valerius Vitalis is the only one of the Roman commanders whose name has been handed down.

Across the valley, some distance from Melandra, is a hill called Mouselow. This hill is supposed to have been a stronghold of the Ancient Britons. It forms a position of great natural strength, and was well adapted for military occupation in the days anterior to gunpowder and artillery. Several pre-historic weapons have been discovered near.
For a considerable time after the erection of Melandra Castle, the Roman garrison was much harassed by the activity of a chieftain who was encamped on Mouselow. This chief watched his opportunity, and rallying to his side the few fighting men of the Britons who were left, darted down on detached bands of the Roman soldiery, and left not one alive to tell the tale. Thus from the earliest days, it seemed fated that there was to be strife and enmity between the two strongholds. Even when the Romans had finally driven out the Britons, and razed the original building of Mouselow to the ground, the struggle did not cease; for after a time the legions were forced to leave the country, and no sooner had they turned their backs than the native chiefs were quarrelling over the spoils. One chief took possession of Melandra and became prince of that place, and a rival chief rebuilt the fort on Mouselow and took the title of Prince of Mouselow.

After a time came the Saxon invasion—bands of freebooters from the continent landed on these shores, and pillaged where they listed, some returning to their own land with the spoil they had won, others settling on the lands of the chiefs they had defeated and slain. Among the latter class was a Saxon chief named Alman—a brave, though ruthless warrior, who, after some fierce fighting put to death the Prince of Mouselow, and established himself in that mountain stronghold. Thereafter the country of Longdendale was never free from the depredations of this chief; his robber bands harassed the valleys, and no man’s property was safe if it happened to attract the attention of the new Prince of Mouselow. He terrorised the native chiefs, who were nearly all reduced to a state of vassalage by him; indeed, of all those chiefs, the Prince of Melandra alone maintained his former state of independence, and this principally because he was fortunate enough to hold a castle built by the Romans, which, as may be readily supposed, was the strongest fortress in that part of the country. Affairs were in this state when there occurred those incidents which form the substance of this legend.
Now Alman had set his heart upon winning the daughter of a neighbouring chief for his bride. She was named Ineld, and her father was the Lord of Woley—which at that time was a fair-sized town. He was a brave old man, but his forces had been defeated, and his territory ravaged by Alman’s soldiers, so he was somewhat afraid of the Prince of Mouselow, and more than half inclined to bestow his daughter’s hand upon Alman without ever consulting the girl’s wishes at all.

But it chanced that Ineld had views of her own upon the subject, and Alman and his robber ways were not to her liking. She had heard things of Alman and his doings which made the blood run cold.
One day there had come to her father’s gate an old woman, who craved an audience of the chief.
“Why are thine eyes so heavy with mourning?” asked the Lord of Woley. And the old dame made answer:
“O Chief, I am a widow, and the only stay and comfort of my old age was my son—an only child. He kept me from beggary and want. He loved a maiden, and hoped shortly to make her his wife, and even to-day they talked together by the roadside. But it chanced that the Prince of Mouselow rode by with his retinue, and, happening to catch sight of the maid, he ordered his guards to seize her and carry her to the castle. My son interfered, and in an instant the Prince of Mouselow slew him with his own hand. And now, O chief, I cry aloud to thee for justice.”
And another day one of her father’s serfs had come in weeping.

“My lord,” he cried, “I am heavy of heart. I have suffered a great wrong, and I look to thee for redress. My farm, as thou knowest, is on the boundary of the Prince of Mouselow’s territory, and to-day, in my absence, his men came and carried off my cattle and much store of corn. Also, when my wife, who is very fair, remonstrated with them, they seized her and carried her away to their prince, and my little child they slew with the sword.”
These things had Ineld heard, and they in no way predisposed her in favour of Alman, nor did the appearance of the chief when he came a-wooing, alter her first opinions of him. He was a rough, boisterous man, who drank deep, and swore loud oaths—fine and handsome of outward appearance, but a man lacking that refinement which most women prefer to see in men.

Having disclosed his intention to the Lord of Woley, Alman made his way to the fair Ineld’s side, but so used was he to wooing by force that he could not even now altogether rid himself of his blunt, repulsive manner.

“Ah, my May,” cried he, stealing behind the maid, and flinging his arm roughly about her waist, “one kiss from those rosy lipe of thine, and then we will talk of love.”
He laughed as the startled Ineld struggled to free herself from his grasp, but a scowl of anger swept over his face as, with her little hand, she struck him heavily upon the coarse lips which he had thrust near her face.
Then he laughed again, and even swore.
“By Woden,” said he, “but you are a fit wife for any chief. Little spitfire—but I like such play. Trust me, I love thee none the less for that blow. Some day I will tame thee, and then, by the gods, we shall make a mighty pair.”
“Never,” cried Ineld fiercely.
And, breaking away, she ran to the mansion, and hid herself in the women’s quarters, where even Alman dared not follow.
That day the Prince of Mouselow rode away immensely pleased with himself; he loved to see a maid full of fight, so he said, and he promised himself that Ineld should love him by and by. But the days went past, and do what he would, he could never persuade the maiden to grant him an interview alone.
His spirit chafed at the prolonged delay, and at length he determined upon bolder measures. He lay in wait in the woodland near the home of Ineld, and in due course his patient waiting was rewarded. The fair maiden appeared, and, first looking timidly around, as though to make sure she was unobserved, made her way through the glade to a spot near a fern-covered spring.
Alman chuckled to himself with glee, and silently he kept pace with the maiden, although remaining concealed the while.
When Ineld stopped, and showed unmistakable signs of going no further, the Prince of Mouselow emerged from the undergrowth behind which he had been hidden, and, with a laugh of triumph, stood before her.
“Now, my little vixen,” said he, “I have won you at last. Maids so coy as you must be wooed in rough fashion. And, once inside my mountain fortress, I doubt not your consent to wed Alman will soon be forthcoming.”
So saying, he made to carry her to the spot where his steed was tethered, for he would win his bride by force, even as he had won his wealth and lands.
Ineld screamed shrilly in terror, and the Prince clapped his rough hand upon her lips to stifle the cries.
“Cease such idle wailing,” said he. “The wood is deserted, no one can hear, nor would it greatly matter if they could. I hold thee now, and no man in all the land shall rob me of my prize.”
“Be not so sure of that,” said a voice at his shoulder, so suddenly and unexpectedly that Alman dropped the girl, who immediately, with a joyful cry, sprang to the side of the new comer.

“Lewin—sweetheart,” cried she—then could say no more by reason of the caress which her deliverer bestowed upon her.
“Ah,” cried Alman—a light breaking on him, as he recognised the youthful Lewin, Prince of Melandra. “So ’tis a lover’s tryst I have marred by my presence. Well, let us see who is the better man—Lewin or Alman, and the winner takes the maid.”
He loosened the short axe at his side, and, without pause, rushed on Lewin, waving the weapon aloft. Scarce had the youth time to thrust the maid behind him and draw his blade when the axe fell; but the sword of Lewin was swift to parry, and at the same instant he sprang aside. The axe missed him by a hairsbreadth, but the sword was shattered by the stroke, and the Prince of Melandra stood weaponless—at the mercy of Alman.

The Prince of Mouselow laughed, and again raised his axe to make an end, but Lewin, disdaining to fly, faced him calmly, awaiting death without a tremour. His cool and gallant bearing touched the fierce robber, and he dropped his arm.
“I could slay thee easily,” said he, “but I soil not my fame so. Thou art a brave man, and above all the chiefs about, hast hitherto opposed me with credit to thyself. I give thee thy life—the maiden goes with me. But this chance I give thee. Rally thy men and meet me now in battle array—Melandra against Mouselow, and we will fight for a noble prize—the lordship of all the land of Longdendale, and the fair Ineld for a queen. Thou may’st trust me. The maid stays in my keeping, but I touch her not until the battle has been fought and won.”
Lewin advanced and took the hand of Alman.

“I trust thee, Prince,” said he. “’Tis a noble act. Get thee to thy stronghold with the maiden, for soon the axe of Lewin will be knocking at thy door.”
Then, turning to the trembling girl, he whispered:
“Fear not, Ineld, I come quickly. Ere another hour is passed the war-song of Lewin will echo through the hills.”
Then he was gone.

An hour later Alman stood on the rampart of Mouselow, and gazed in the direction of Melandra. The warrior by his side pointed to a dancing light which played upon the distant fields and seemed to move on Mouselow. It was the sunlight reflected from a host of shields and spears.

“They come, my lord,” said he. And Alman answered:
“This Lewin keeps his word. The fight will be such as a soldier loves. Now get to your arms.”
The Prince of Mouselow watched the approach of the foe with gladness. Rude and tyrannous though he might be, he was yet a brave man, and asked for nothing better than a worthy foe and a fair field. It mattered little to him if death came in the conflict. His fathers had all died fighting, and he, too, longed to die in the thick of the fray. He loved fighting for fighting’s sake, and in the lust for the conflict he even forgot the fair Ineld—the prize for which he fought. Placing himself at the head of his men, he led them out of the fort, and soon the two forces were in touch with each other. The Prince of Melandra was at the head of his own troops, and as the two armies closed he gave forth his war shout and called upon his men to charge. The warriors clashed their axes and shields together, and cried aloud:
“Lewin we will follow thee to death. Lead on!”
And thus the great fight begun.
The battle lasted through the day, and it seemed almost certain that the superior force of the Prince of Mouselow would win. But the men of Melandra fought like heroes; they stubbornly maintained their ground, and, as the day passed, the battle was still undecided.
Throughout the combat Lewin seemed to bear a charmed life. He was ever in the thick of battle, and where his axe descended there death reigned in the foemen’s ranks. But towards the evening he realised that his rapidly thinning ranks were in danger of being enveloped by the greater number of the foe, and that if the battle was to be saved, it would require a superhuman effort.
Then, knowing that where he led his men would surely follow, he raised his war shout, and, with a mighty rush, charged single-handed on the foe. He was surrounded in an instant, and a score of blows were showered at his head. The peril of their chief so incensed the men of Melandra that they became like madmen, and swept onwards with a charge that nothing could withstand. This was exactly what Lewin had looked for, and, hoping to render the effect of the charge doubly sure, he still pushed on, making for the standard where Alman fought.
The Prince of Mouselow rallied his men about him, and, shoulder to shoulder, they stood to repel the onslaught. But the rush of Lewin was too fierce, the men of Mouselow were scattered like chaff, and Alman himself fell pierced by a score of blades.

With the fall of Alman the battle ended, his men fled from the field, and their dying chief turned and laughed as he watched them fly.

“They run,” said he—“the dogs. And yet—they fought bravely. Well, let them run. Ho. Lewin, the day is thine. Ineld is thine, and I—I die. Tell her I died as a brave man should—face to the foe. Valhalla calls me. Lewin, farewell.”
So he died.
The old chronicle tells us that he died as the sun set, and his spirit passed away with the dying beams to the eternal land of rest. It is said that so keen was the conflict, and so great was the bloodshed, that one part of the battlefield was afterwards termed Redgate in perpetual commemoration of the day. The spot whereon Alman died was called Almansdeath, a name it still retains."

Robin Hoods Picking Rods

Robin Hood's Picking Rods are two stone rods set in a stone base on the hill above Charlesworth they are obviously the work of man, unlike some other ancient standing stones however the stones were made so long ago that their maker and purpose are forgotten. 

Archaeologists have examined the stones and come to their conclusions. The columns are thought to have been carved in the 9th century AD, by Anglo-Saxons. The stones may originally have been a single column that at some time has been broken and two pieces mounted side-by-side. 

It is just possible that the original column is from a period earlier than the 9th century, perhaps Celtic. If so it could have been used by an earlier religion.

The stones being part of a Saxon Cross is the origin is favoured by archaeologists. As a single column it may have looked like that still standing at Cleulow and those in West Park, Macclesfield. It is thought that in the 9th century the local inhabitants were Christian. 

Some old columns mark the course of ancient tracks. This column is on a track running east-west across country, passing through a gap in Cown Edge and heading towards Brown Low. It is not far from a crossroads with another ancient track running north-south along the top of Cown Edge. 

The people of this area resisted the Normans after the invasion of 1066. In 1070 the Norman army came here for retribution. They destroyed property and slaughtered animals. They reduced the area to waste. The Normans then created Macclesfield Forest. For us, the word "forest" brings to mind an area of land covered by trees. In the 11th century the word had a different meaning. It meant an area reserved for hunting. Macclesfield Forest was a Royal Forest. The hunting was reserved for Royalty. Local people, having had their other resources destroyed, were banned from taking wild game. In that era there were few walls and fences. Marker stones were placed on tracks at the entry to the forest to warn that hunting beyond that point was banned. It may be the Normans who broke the column (already several hundred years old) and used the pieces to make a boundary marker. At one time there were four pairs of twin columns in Macclesfield Forest. Of these, two pairs still exist, Robin Hood's Picking Rods, and Bow Stones.

The stones bear his name, but who was he, did he really exist, and how is he connected with the stones? Local legend says that Robin shot an arrow at the Picking Rods (to win freedom for a fair maid). It is said that the arrow hit the stones leaving the mark that can be seen today. This legend also has Robin performing an implausible feat of strength on Werneth Low nearby. Some of the legends may be difficult to believe, but they are sufficiently strong, persistent, and widespread in this part of the country to lead one to believe there may be some truth behind them. Unfortunately they date from the 13th century when little was written down. Few ordinary people could write. Those who could write were in positions of power. They had little incentive to portray a gang of outlaws accurately, and are unlikely to have known the full truth. Robin could have been used as an excuse by the poor inhabitants of the forest when they were questioned by the King's Shire Reave (Sheriff) about missing game. It is difficult to distinguish truth from fiction. Modern tales about Robin usually place him in Sherwood Forest which starts about thirty-five miles east of here. However, most of the places named after him or having local tales about him are in Yorkshire and Derbyshire, closer to here. If Robin did exist, then he and his gang are likely to have passed this way. 

There are many other explanations for the origin of the stones, so unfortunately the truth may never be known.

The Rocking Man

In a private residence along Talbot Road, over a wide number of years from 1877 - 1986 came a wide range of haunting reports.

An occupier reported several paranormal occurrences here, including a stained glass crucifix which shattered, balls flying off the snooker table, and tapping on windows. Another witness spotted a man sitting on a rocking chair in the bedroom. The site was eventually blessed by a priest, although it is not clear whether this service was successful.

B29 Superfortress

On the moors surrounding Glossop are the crash sites of a number of aircraft. One of the more famous is that of the USAF B-29 Superfortress that crashed at Higher Shelf Stones in 1948.

Flying out of RAF Scampton in Lincolnshire, it was named "Over Exposed" and crashed in low cloud.

Used as a reconnaissance plane, this is one of three such planes that has the dubious honour of accompanying the B29 that was tasked with deploying the atomic bomb at Bikini Atoll in 1946.

The Luddites

Glossop and the surrounding areas were heavily dependent upon the Cotton Mills, and so in the early 1800s when the Luddite uprisings caused riots and disruption in a number of mills throughout the north, its presence was felt closer to home - in Tintwistle.
At Tintwistle, which at that time lay in Cheshire, there was a mixture of food rioting and machine-breaking. Provision shops were entered, including one belonging to an Elice Berry, and autoreduction engaged in, with goods such as flour, meal, bacon and groceries distributed to the crowd.

Several Mills were attacked: the Vale House Mill, a cotton spinning and weaving concern belonging to Robert Thornley, had machinery and tools broken. Thornley's life was also apparently threatened.

At Millbrook, on the borders of Hollingworth and Tintwistle, a Mill belonging to the Sidebottom family was attacked, and machinery broken there.

Seven shearing frames belonging to a Thomas Rhodes were also destroyed in another mill, when a crowd of 400 people attacked it. This appears to be the only example of the destruction of shearing frames outside of the West Riding.

Two men from Newton, near Hyde, later appeared before the Court for breaking machinery: John Cooper, a 23 year-old collier was charged with destroying a blowing machine belonging to Messrs Sidebottom at Mottram-in-Longdendale, and John Smith Rigby a 22 year-old hatter, the latter charged with breaking the only shearing-frames outside of West Yorkshire at Tintwistle 12 months earlier. Their prospects were not good, not least because 3 of the manufacturers targetted in the attacks had urged the Home Secretary to bring the matters to court. However, they were acquitted & discharged by proclamation, although they both had to enter into a recognizance for £40 to appear before the court if called upon.

The Tintwistle Weavers Daughter, 1812

There was a weaver’s daughter born
When loaves were big and cheap
Work was forbid on a Monday
Tho work enough for keep
His daughter grew pretty and fine
On meat and bread he’d bring
And bloomed the human face divine
Her light sweet voice would sing
But your debts and taxes want pay’d
Coined of the poor and dead
Orders and council kill trade
And weavers cry for bread
So bent the daughter to her fate
From work she did not cower
She beam’d the yarn from Manchester
And dress’d the warp with flour
She beams the yarn from Manchester
And dresses warp with flour
The shuttle flies from morn til night
And rests at a late hour
From morn til night she cannot cease
Her life is nowt but toil
She has not time for love or sport
Her blooming flowers spoil
Still your debts and taxes want pay’d
Coined of the poor and dead
Orders and French wars hurt trade
And weavers cry for bread
She bends no more to her poor lot
A life of nowt but toil
Enriching the mighty and the great
While her own flowers spoil
She cries aloud her heros name
Her Sherwood hero Ludd
Will set a stop to wars and steam
And wages as they stood

How to get to Glossop

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The Devil's Elbow

Of all the various body parts associated with the demonic one, a fair number seem to have ended up in Derbyshire; The Devil’s Arse for example can be found in Castleton where a major cave attraction bears the name. One of the most unusual things about the elbow is that it seems quite a common name for a bendy bit of geography, there are similarly named features all over the world, especially Scotland and America. The elbow here refers to a stretch of the B6105, the Woodhead Road, which runs from Glossop east towards the reservoirs that line the Longdendale Valley. It is notoriously difficult to drive as even when you anticipate it, the sharpness of the bend can be quite unexpected. In spite of the manmade landscape around it the area still feels quite wild, Moorish and bleak.

Here’s the legend : a father forbade his daughter to marry and swore he’d rather the devil took her – she went ahead and met with her man and they promptly encountered the wrath of Satan who caught them meeting at this very place in the hills; whilst chasing the two young lovers, the Devilish one’s arm turned (conveniently, some might say) to stone and in fury he ripped it off and hurled it to the ground where it now forms the bend after which it is named. Quite how it turned to stone, and why the devil is rarely if ever depicted with only the one arm, legend does not tell. But is renowned as a spot for ghostly lights and, um, generally spookiness.

In folklore the Elbow was a dangerous boundary between the inhabited valley and the moor - a frightening place haunted by burning lights, the fairy folk and the Dark Lad or T’Owd Lad, the local name for the devil or horned one

These days the landmark has been immortalised as a local real ale.

Activities

Glossop Swimming Pool
Glossop has a 25 metre swimming pool that is open to the public 7 days a week.  The pool was built in 1887 by the Woods Family (The pool was originally called Wood's Baths) in conjunction with Lord Howard who offered the land for the adjoining Howard Park. An excellent example of victorian architecture, the pool was recently refurbished and offers swimming lessons, pool parties or simple lane swimming this large pool can cater for all of your requirements. Visit their website for more information and opening times.



Horse Riding at Hargate Hill Equestrian Centre
Horse riding is a very fulfilling past time and can be enjoyed by everyone. It is a great way to socialise and meet new people whilst enjoying one of the most magnificent animals on the planet. Hargate Hill has an exceptional array of schooled horses and ponies that are trained to teach riders of all ages from beginner to advanced. Visit their website for more information.

Sports Centre
Glossop has a modern sports centre located close to the town centre offering a range of activities such as badminton, squash and a climbing wall.

Fishing
There are many facilities for fishing in the Glossop area. Hargate Hill offers a number of course fishing lakes, plus Arnfield Reservoir near Tintwistle offers fly fishing

Clay Pigeon Shooting
The Boar Clay Shooting Ground is situated near Crowden in the heart of the Dark Peak, close to the A628 Woodhead Pass, and approximately 4 miles from Glossop in Derbyshire. A long established ground, The Boar offers a variety of clay target shooting disciplines, English Sporting, English Skeet, DTL (Down the Line), Compak Sporting and lastly, Flush for the Game enthusiast. Visit the website for more information.

Glossop Sailing Club
Glossop Sailing Club is a welcoming sailing club in a beautiful environment, sailing on Torside Reservoir in the Longdendale reservoir chain. If has good facilities and enthusiastic members. The club is run entirely by its members, who share the duties throughout the year. The Club offers competitive racing at all levels of experience, leisure sailing in an attractive Derbyshire setting, officially recognised RYA training courses to gain and improve sailing skills, and a nurturing social scene.

Attractions

Manor Park- manor park is a beautiful and well used park, it is extremely popular amongst local people as it provides a range of facilities including a lake, floral displays, bowling green, skatepark and shelter, tennis and basketball courts and much more.Manor park was originally the grounds of parkland of Glossop hall and was almost certainly walled off from parts of a large area of meadows. Originally there was a hall, usually called ' Royle Hall' built about 1729 by Ralph standish Howard, but following his death and that of his heir, it was used in the early 17th century by agents of Howards , Duke of Norfolk.

Howard Park- Howard Park is a picturesque Victorian park set within its own conservation area. The park has stunning views of the surrounding countryside and is beautifully landscaped with floral displays. Find out more about Howard Park.


Melandra Roman Fort- Melandra ‘castle’ is the only significant Roman relic visible in the Peak. The fort has been excavated by Manchester University and is a in the care of English Heritage. The fort lies within an outer defence system (now almost vanished) which may be either an early ‘marching camp’ or the ‘building site’ within which the fort could be built in comparative safety. Find out more about Melandra Castle.

Old Glossop- Old Glossop lies on the very edge of the Peak District National Park. Old Glossop is full of character and has delightful buildings including old cottages and a beautiful church. Old Glossop is also home to micro brewery ‘Howard Town Brewery’.

Lyme Park- Lyme Park is approximately 30 minute drive from Glossop but is well worth a visit. Lyme Park is a magnificent estate most famously known as the backdrop for where Darcy met Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice. The main house is set in beautiful grounds, perfect for a long afternoon walk

Walking Routes

Glossop/Longendale
Walk Length: 4 miles.
Start/Finish: Torside Car Park.
View route details 

Bleaklow from Old Glossop
Length: 9.5 miles
Start/Finish: Old Glossop
View walk description and map 

Shire Hill from Old Glossop
Length: 7 miles
Start/Finish: Old Glossop
View walk description and map

Hadfield and Padfield Heritage Trail
Length: 7 miles
View walk description and map

Cursed Stones

One of the strangest stories in the folklore of the Peak District concerns a group of ancient carved stones found on a hill near the town of Glossop during the reign of Queen Victoria. Visitors to Buxton Museum can inspect the stones which are built into an archway in the permanent galleries, but they will learn nothing about their power to generate fear and suspicion from the caption which accompanies them.


The Museum says “their precise origins are unknown, but the consensus of opinion is that they are of Celtic (Iron Age) origin, and may have belonged to larger groups of carvings of cult significance.” The  stones take their name from Mouselow Castle which is a prominent landmark above Old Glossop. Archaeologists have found the site, known locally as ‘Castle Hill’ was used by native tribes as far back as the Bronze Age. The hilltop may have remained a Celtic stronghold when the Romans arrived in the 1^st century AD and began work on their fort at Melandra, on the opposite side of the River Etherow.

It was at Mouselow, in 1840, that a Wesleyan Minister, the Reverend George Marsden, discovered “some curiously marked stones” whilst searching the ruins of an old building which local tradition said had once been the foundations of a Catholic chapel. Having removed them from the hill Marsden built them into the gable end of his house in Hadfield, where they remained for a number of years before they were taken out and presented to the Glossop Antiquarian Society, and finally Buxton Museum.

Even at this early stage the stones were surrounded by mystery because they were decorated with carvings and symbols that had connotations of superstition or witchcraft. Perhaps in a bid to downplay their power, in 1905 a local historian described the stones as being of “early Anglo-Saxon origin” and wrote “ some of the symbols have been recognized as representing the river of life, the wind blowing from the four quarters of the earth, Thoth, one of their gods and other objects which they worshipped.” Unfortunately, Thoth was an Egyptian deity, not an Anglo-Saxon god!

Today, archaeologists believe the stones were produced not by Anglo-Saxons, but by native Celts whose traditions had been influenced by the brief Roman presence in the High Peak. The most striking is a rectangular block featuring a crudely-incised face with what appear to be horns sprouting from the brow of the head. As horns were a symbol of the devil to Christians, this stone may have been regarded as a focus evil power. In fact, it is similar to other crude native carvings found on the Roman wall, and may represent a Celtic warrior or the god known as Cernunnos (‘the horned one.’)

Their reappearance in Glossop, in 1985, triggered a series of bizarre phone calls which led an archaeologist to temporarily suspend an exploratory excavation on the hilltop where they were found. The archaeologist, Glynis Reeve, herself a local woman, had always been intrigued by the history and folklore of the valley, particularly the ‘dark ages’ between the departure of the Romans and the Norman conquest. In 1984, with the backing of Manchester University and the Peak District National Park, Glynis undertook an extensive fieldwork survey and planned a small excavation on the summit of Mouselow in a bid to learn more about the age of the earthworks. The work was overshadowed by a series of strange events that has left a certain amount of ill-feeling in the district to this day. For it seemed the archaeologists had unearthed something more than they had bargained for.

Glynis described how it was not long after volunteers began work that things began to go wrong. “We had not been up there for very long when we started to get anonymous phone calls, quite late in the evening from people obviously very concerned that we were digging on a site which had some special significance to them.” The calls asked ‘why are young digging up there?’ and ‘what are you trying to find?’, and there were warnings about horned figures and ‘the Old Ways.’ The dig was based in a small field centre in Glossop and soon a number of people began to come in demanding to know what they were doing, some of whom were “quite annoyed.” Relations with local people worsened when Glynis began to research the history of Mouselow Stones and arrangements were made for them to return for an exhibition in the field centre.
“I thought we would perhaps arouse some local interest and maybe find out some more about them,” said Glynis. “But I was totally unprepared for the reaction.” One man visited the display and looked at the stones for a long time. When Glynis said she wished she knew what she wasn’t supposed to find on the hill, the visitor turned and said: “What you did not find was the entrance to hell.”

Undeterred, Glynis reopened the dig again in the summer of 1985. This time, every member of the team suffered an accident on the site. “We found it very hard to put to the back of our minds, especially when everybody had drawn blood, and we had to get to the bottom of what it was that was disturbing people so much.” Her suspicions were confirmed when a Celtic scholar, Dr Anne Ross examined the stones. She said they appeared Celtic in style, if not in date, and may have once formed part of a pagan Celtic shrine. Dr Ross said she believed Glynis had stumbled across what she called “a strong local feeling about certain stones which had been sacred, which were believed to have certain powers.”

In an effort to calm nerves and extend the hand of friendship to the mysterious followers of ‘the Old Ways’, Glynis decided that on the eve of the old festival of Beltane, May 1^st, she would try to communicate with them. “A member of my team and I decided we would go up on to the site at night. It was very dark and lonely and we were frightened, because we kept hearing rustlings in the trees and couldn’t tell whether it was the wind or perhaps someone watching us.” When the two reached the summit, Glynis stood and announced: “You have nothing to fear from us.” She then slowly walked down towards another member of the team who was waiting in a car. They were all unnerved when he said that while the pair was on the hill, he had seen a number of torchlights moving about on the lower slopes.

“I don’t know who they were but after that night the harassment stopped,” Glynis said afterwards. “There were no more phone calls, nobody else came into the field centre and made a fuss, and it was made known to us that we were perfectly welcome to carry on with our excavation so long as our interest remained purely archaeological. They were doing us no harm any longer, so that’s how we left it – we had our interpretation of the site and we left them and their beliefs to history.”

But what about the stones themselves? What was it about them which aroused such intense suspicion and hostility?  No clear answer can be found, because like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces, many of the original stones have been lost. Two additional stones were added after the eight original stones were exhibited in Glossop, but not all appear to be of the same age and although some are Celtic in style, others are clearly medieval and may possibly have formed parts of gravestones. Archaeologists have been unable to explain their meaning after decades of study, and the mystery looks set to continue.

Prehistoric stones are often associated with fertility rites and one of the stones from Mouselow contains a phallic symbol of Roman style. Others contain Celtic ‘roses’ and the letter ‘A’ which may have formed part of an inscription of dedication to a deity, perhaps ‘Anu’ or ‘Arnemetia’, the Celtic goddess who presided over the thermal springs at Buxton. A number of stones contain symbols grouped like a domino that connect them with a woman or women whose graves they may have originally marked.

The most mysterious stone in the Mouselow collection, and possibly the earliest in date, tapers towards one end and reveals its secrets only when placed upright and cross-lit. Then, what appears to be a pattern of lozenges is transformed into the figure of a woman wearing a distinctive tartan garment and with her hair drawn up into a bun. According to experts the nearest archaeological comparison is found in Bronze Age Denmark. If correct, this stone is truly Celtic and was carved by the people who buried their dead on Mouselow Hill long before the arrival of the Romans.

Movement of sacred stones and their handling by people from outside the tradition which created them, has always been surrounded by strong taboos in folklore. Also typically Celtic is the existence of ‘guardians’ who preserve sacred stones and charms, which in parts of Scotland and Ireland have been passed down through generations of families. It appears that in this part of the Peak District, centuries after the arrival of Christianity, there are still some who continue to follow ‘the old ways.’ They continue their respect for sacred places and certain stones which have special powers, and questions from outsiders will always remain unwelcome

The Phantom Lorry, A57

The events surrounding this haunting take place in 1929-30 along a stretch of the A57, the road which crosses the Pennines through the Peak District from Manchester to Sheffield.
According to local stories a Phantom Lorry haunted the area between Hyde and Mottram-in-Longdendale and during the time it was active over sixteen major road accidents took place resulting in three deaths and many more injuries. 

The New Inn, which, now converted to houses, had a picture of a lorry on its sign - probably a reference to the Phantom Lorry.

The New Inn also has another chilling claim - it used to be the local of Moor Murderers Ian Brady and Myra Hindley who's house on Wardlebrook Avenue used to stand behind the inn till it was demolished.

Additionally the inn was reputedly haunted by a ghost named Mary.
 
In his book "Ghosts and Legends of the Peak District" David Clarke (who has researched strange events in Longdendale for many, many years) tells us that the local coroner was so concerned by the string of inexplicable accidents that he took a jury to the spot at midnight to look for evidence.

The Woolley Bridge Inn, Glossop

According to spooky reports in The Glossop Chronicle (March 11 1999), The Woolley Bridge Inn, which is now a private house, was home to the ghost of a young girl called Clarissa McDonough, who was brought to Glossop from Ireland, aged 4. Not long after they moved in, publicans Vic and Rita Gerrard began hearing a child's voice, noises upstairs and belongings appeared to move around for no apparent reason. The pub cat also appeared disturbed on occasions. Then Vic reported seeing the girl standing on the landing. He told The Chronicle "She told me her name and that she was 12 years old and was upset because someone had drowned her kitten which was called Toby." After further conversation, in which the girl asked for Vic's help, she melted away. "I seem to sense she was strangled." said Vic. Reports of the phantom girl apparently came as news to regulars in the Woolley Bridge who have not seen the spectre, however there have been occasional reports of a 'dark shadow' in the lounge. There the report in The Chronicle ends, however a later roumour was that the 'dark shadow' was being attributed to the spirit of a malicious man who is trying to get to the little girl.  

In a later report in the Glossop Chronicle the licencees, Vic and Rita Gerrard were adamant that they were experiencing paranormal occurrences of the most frightening kind and kept a diary. Reports suggest that the happenings occurred after psychics visited and sensed the spirit of a man in a black frock coat (presumably thereby identifying the 'dark shadow' occasionally spotted by regulars). Since then the Gerrards reported cans mysteriously falling from rubbish bags and tingling sensations in the arms and legs, and the sense of an evil presence. Rita reported seeing the man changing into a lady in a wheelchair, or into an old lady, then a dog, snake and lizard. Scarey stuff indeed, although the paper also reports that a recent overnight vigil on the premises produced no evidence at that time of any activity.

Glossop's Haunted Theatre

Although stories of haunted theatres are quite common Glossops own local theatre - The Partington Theatre is reputedly haunted by the ghost of Hilda Knight..." 
 
The Partington Theatre was created in 1957 on the second floor of Glossop's Liberal Club by a group of local actors and actresses who were keen to start a repertory club in the area. The driving force behind the venture was producer Miss Hilda Knight. Sadly she was suffering from TB at the time and died shortly after the theatre opened its doors in 1958 but it is said that she still haunts the theatre, keeping a benevolent watch over the Players. Several times during productions and particularly at the final curtain call a colourful butterfly has suddenly appeared and it is widely agreed to be a manifestation of the spirit of the departed lady whose inner-strength and determination brought the Partington Theatre into being.
 
Apparently the butterfly has been known to alight on members of the cast and is such a part of the theatre's history that it has been incorporated into their letterhead design. 

Founding member Melvyn Warhurst told of of an occasion when he was working in the bar with his wife during a social evening. They were the last to leave and, after tidying up, switching everything off and leaving the building secure, they took a friend home. The return journey took them past the theatre and they were surprised and somewhat disturbed to see all the lights were now on in the theatre. Mr Warhurst parked on Norfolk Square and came across to check the building. He found the main door secure with no sign of a break in. He unlocked it and proceeded to open the inner door. At the exact moment that he did so all the lights switched off simultaneously.
 
On another occasion, members Grenville Castree and Frank Ainsworth were working late one Sunday night painting scenery. It was about 10pm and they were the only people in the building. Mr Castree took a break from the job and left the auditorium, walking down several flights of stone steps to the dressing room in order to wash out some brushes. While he was there he suddenly heard loud footsteps running down the stairs. He called his partner but there was no reply. Suspecting an intruder, he picked up a short stick and ventured back up the steps. He found nothing. "When I got back upstairs, Frank was exactly where I'd left him - up the ladder painting scenery."

Norfolk Arms - one of Glossop's Haunted Pubs

Built in 1823, and originally called The Tontine, The Norfolk Arms is now Glossop's town centre pub but was originally a busy coaching inn in the rapidly growing mill town, then called Howardtown.
 
There have been many reports of strange goings on in various parts of the Norfolk over the years, a lot of of which could undoubtedly be put down to the more usual sort of spirit available behind the bar! What used to be the Function Room was often the source of many weird happenings. Much of the uneasiness with which the room was regarded down to the fact that it was rarely used and so was usually closed off, in shadowy darkness and very chilly and still, there is a vast unexplored stretch of cellar underneath the floorboards. The Norfolk at one time provided bed and breakfast and 'Room 5' has gone down in the pub's history as being haunted. Nothing tangible has been reported but various overnight lodgers have reported an ill-feeling in the room.

However there have been sightings of both a little girl and a tall man which are very interesting and as yet are unexplained.
 
Those who have seen the girl describe her as being aged about 9 or 10, and some say that she wore her hair in ringlets. On a number of occasions she was seen running alongside the bar before ducking down out of sight, almost as though she was playing hide and seek with her observer. One time barman and relief manager Pete Stimpson described how he glimpsed her in the very early hours of the morning, long after the pub had emptied. "I saw a little blonde head bobbing along the top of the bar and suddenly she just bobbed down." He carefully checked the bar area and found nothing. She was seen again some time later one Sunday evening by a customer sitting in the Vault. He described what he saw as 'Just an ordinary looking little girl running past the doorway. No-one else seemed to see her, even though there were customers sitting in that side of the pub.' During recent extensive renovations to the pub, an old and previously unknown stairway down into the cellar was uncovered at around the point where the little girl is said to 'bob down'. This has led some to believe that she was in fact descending down an old set of steps, perhaps as she had done many times previously in the past.
 
The more unsettling figure of the tall man dressed in dark clothing has also been reported by both staff and customers. The man was strikingly tall, with some estimates putting his height at over six and a half feet! He was seen after hours walking through the Vault towards the side door of the pub. Barman James Tickle described him as 'wearing a long dark coat and with a very pale face' which he says was visible in the gloom. A regular customer described how, late one Sunday night, she saw the figure of a 'darkly-dressed' man sitting in one of the seats in the Lounge Bar. Convinced it was just someone hanging around she turned away momentarily only to find that the man had disappeared when she looked back. 

The Norfolk Arms was a stopping point for the coaches that regularly travelled over the Dark Peak towards Sheffield. The old stables which housed the horses still stand at the back of the pub and it has been suggested that bare-knuckle fighting regularly took place 'on the cobbles' between the coachmen. The coach companies did choose tough men, prizefighters and ex-convicts, to act as drivers on this perilous journey. Their life-expectancy in the job is said to have been twelve months and it's thought that the tall dark stranger frequenting the Norfolk could be the ghost of a former coachman.
 
In the summer of '98 the Norfolk Arms was extensively renovated and while no bodies were discovered beneath the floorboards various old everyday objects were found, including clay pipes and an old bone toothbrush. During the renovations themselves, unexplained bangings and loud knockings were heard downstairs on several occasions at night but investigation by those on the premises revealed nothing.