The Fairy Folk

July 22, 2023 – Beetham, UK

Our journey on the first full day in Cumbria was a mystical quest. We followed an ancient footpath to an enchanted location to make a wish.

I don’t think fairies grant practical wishes. They seem much more likely to deal in requests of an abstract nature, which is why I won’t be asking for a billion dollars when I make my wish this afternoon.

I haven’t decided yet what my one wish will be. I will sort that out when I meet the fairy folk who live off Highcote Lane, near Beetham, not far from the cottage where we are staying.

Legend has it that fairies live on top of a limestone outcropping. The cliff has a natural stairway dubbed The Fairy Steps which progresses through a narrow passage in the rock. The legend goes, if you climb the steps without touching the walls of the crevasse, the fairies may grant you a wish.

I have been eating well leading up to this trip, but I hope I am still thin enough to climb The Fairy Steps without touching either side.

The footpath to The Fairy Steps follows an old corpse road. In the Middle Ages only select churches in England held burial services. When someone died near here their coffin had to be transported to consecrated ground at St. Michaels Church in nearby Beetham. The trail to the church meanders through dense woodlands, and up a limestone rock face with a natural stairway called The Fairy Steps. Coffins would be hoisted up the cliff using metal rings anchored in the rock.

Carrying a coffin by way of this rugged route seems impractical, but there was a certain logic in transporting the dead through hazardous terrain. Our ancestors believed that ghosts of the departed were apt to return home if the path was easy. Coffins were carried feet first, pointing away from the family home, to prevent the deceased’s spirit from walking back. The path mourners took often included bridges or steppingstones across running water, which it was believed spirits would not cross. Stone barriers like the limestone crevasse and The Fairy Steps acted as a further impediment, to deter ghosts from wandering homeward.

Despite the morbid original purpose of the trail, Bear and I enjoyed our walk to The Fairy Steps. As we strolled, I daydreamed about the wish I would make when we reached the top.

The passage through the limestone isn’t much wider than I am, so it was almost impossible to climb the steps and not touch the sides. But, as with all things metaphysical, reality can be overcome through blind faith and wishful thinking. I emerged from the crevasse with moss on the front and back of my shirt, but with the firmly held belief that I hadn’t touched a rock.

I navigated the last of the slippery steps and glanced upward into the light of the longest day of the year. My eyes hadn’t fully adjusted, so I can’t say for sure, but it appeared that there was a hazy outline of winged creatures shimmering in a tree.

I didn’t look directly at the fairies, but I could see a twinkling, like stardust, out of the corner of my eye.

I redirected my gaze eastward, over the land of my ancestors, and made this wish:

I wish to travel back in time, to spend a few hours with my ancestors. I want to discover who they were and share the joy and the struggle of their existence.

When I looked back there was nothing but the natural beauty of the forest, but I was left with the feeling that a portal to the past had opened. I will meet my ancestors and I will share their story with you.

The walk from our cottage to The Fairy Steps, took us past my grandmother’s childhood home. I have absolutely no doubt that young Eleanor Fallows would have visited the fairy steps often. She undoubtedly made a wish while she was here. I will have to ask her what that wish was when I see her this week.

The accommodation we secured for the first few nights of our stay was once occupied by my great uncle Thomas Fallows. We didn’t know this when we booked Carr Bank Cottage on Airbnb. It was one of dozens of places we had to choose from, and we picked it at random.

The Carr Bank coincidence was pointed out to me by the administrator of the local Facebook group, Wayne Hudson. In another remarkable stroke of genealogical coincidence, Wayne and I discovered that we share common ancestry!

Wayne Hudson and I are linked through Agnes Ann Phillipson, my great grandmother and his second cousin, twice removed.