Lud’s Church, Derbyshire – August 24th, 2008
It was a dull and unimpressive day when I took M to the airport, and took the opportunity of proximity to take a little jaunt out afterwards. I had finally cracked under the weight of the momentum of the idea of visiting Lud’s Church. According to what I had been reading, and hearing from a friend about it, it may be one of the last surviving druid groves in the country, and at the very least was an awe-inspiring place to see. Perhaps each county has a druid grove, I don’t know, but the idea of an ancient grove nearby filled me with a rising sense of necessity to visit this place to see if it matched expectations. The associations with heretics, Robin Hood (Green Man again) and The Green Chapel of the Sir Gawain and the Green Knight poem were the final straw. I had to see it!
So I ventured through Macclesfield and on down the A54 after a short B-road stint through leafy Cheshire lanes until they took on a more Derbyshire tone and the moorlands opened up at the top of ever-increasing hills. Despite having a printed-out OS map of the destination, I only had a few small village names to work off, and was using a high level national map to get me close. I attempted several manoeuvres that I never learned on my driving lessons, and finally arrived at the designated car park in Gradbach village (on the edge of the Derbyshire/Staffordshire borderlands). Signposted for the Scout Camp and Youth Hostel, of course. Typical. I mean, who would want to be visiting a stunning national treasure? Well, surely they couldn’t need signs for that? Wouldn’t want people to find it, would we? 😉
My spleen juices pumping with the rigours of the car journey, I changed my boots for better boots, grabbed by staff and bag, and marched off up the slope which was the continuation of the small road I had come in on. There were no signs even here in the car park which indicated where anything was, so I went on ‘feel’. I followed signs for the YHA and Scout Camp up the hill, and by sheer chance I was soon descending a hill to a ford of loosely-space steeping stone in a seven-foot wide river. Challenge! Hop- skip – splosh and jump, and across to land in front of a sign which seemed to have had its information ripped off it. Greeeaaat. Going well so far. OS map? Useless. For some reason I couldn’t orientate it. Dowsing rods? You bet! “Left or right to Lud’s Church?” I asked, then thought, “Shit! Shouldn’t have asked for specific place! Sometimes I get led a merry dance!”. This time I trusted it – right hand path, up the hill. Of course. As I headed off a rather clean pale hand-sized stone was in my path, so I decided to transport it wherever, and I held on to it as I walked along.
In the late afternoon sun filtering from the between the pine branches high above I could hear the sounds of children playing near the river below. It seemed like everyone was enjoying being around here. Good! So was I now. The stress of the nineteen-point turn was rapidly wearing off, and peace was descending as view after view of beautiful pathways and vistas opened before me. Always a tonic.
At intervals I checked the direction with a rod to ensure I was going the right way – I was definitely heading for Lud’s Church, yeah? Definitely this direction? Each time I felt a little more trusting. As the number of alternative paths dwindled and the way became clear I put the rod into my pocket until it might be needed. A minute later I walked into a junction of three or more paths, and there before me was a set of stones twenty feet high, large smooth cracks and ravines between them all – maybe four large rock areas intertwined with pathways. A couple sat atop the biggest rock mass observing the view and nattering about teaching.
I started to explore behind the main rock mass. I was looking for a high ravine….and there was one! Right between the two largest rocks, a narrow three foot wide gap, and ending at a lovely old curvy oak tree. Well, if that’s not Lud’s Church…..! I put my bag down and spent the next hour dowsing around, finding all of the connections from the oak tree to everything else.
I found a strong male/sun line going from the oak to a tall pine stump at the front of the rocks where I had walked in. Through the ravine there was a strong male/sun line which connected with a pair of trees only two feet or so apart. Kal and I have seen this at many sites involving trees (and stumps of trees) such as Alderley Edge – The Bent Tree had such a connection (see previous posts). There were male/sun energy swirls in a fire pit and around the pine stump.
Female energy lines bounced around and spiralled in the ravine, and came out of the old oak tree to go down the hill. We see this type of effect often too – a nourishing or replenishing female energy flowing down into the lands atop which the energetic structures sit. Compare this effect with The Nine Ladies in Stanton Moor, for example, where female energies pour from one side of the circle down a steep cut in the edge of the cliff nearby.
Next I took out the stone picked up from the bottom of the hill. I focused energy into it with positive emotions and visualisations, then placed it next to the spot where I had placed my staff, checking first that no new patterns of lines were present, of course. Then I dowsed again. A repeat of the many-petalled flower shape, as with the other times I had done this. I liked that. I felt reciprocally connected now.
I sat for a while in the warmth of the last of the day’s rays of sunlight on one of the 20′ rocks. I tried to relax and listen to everything that was making a noise, but without labelling what the source was. But I was putting too much effort into it, and so I relented and simply ‘was’, there, alive. Later I discovered that the pine stump was a very grounding, even ‘returning’, force. The story of how I learned that was told to a visiting Australian wise man, and it’s his story to take back with him. I’ll describe our meeting soon enough. I started to pack up, and left a flower offering in a handy hollow of the oak tree and simply spent a moment appreciating the ambience. 😉
A family appeared to start clambering over the rocks (well, the kids did) and as they left I heard the mother say to anyone who would listen. “It says on this signpost Lud’s Church this way.” And off they trotted. It said what? I investigated. Sure enough, Lud’s Church, path to the left up the hill. Ahhh.. hold on! I grabbed my stuff and marched off up the path up the hill. Fifty feet later, there was an opening between tow large rocks in the hillside, and peering round I saw the entrance to another larger ravine. THIS must be Lud’s Church!
I walked up and looked to my left and right at a junction point between the large rocks – to the right was a deep drop into another ravine, and to the left were some steps. The steps I suppose. Down I went, only a few steps, then gasping and slack-jawed did I become! Here was a ravine ten times the size of where I had just been! Alright, maybe three times, but it felt gigantic, and I gaped in awe at the beauty and majesty of it. The trees at the top crowded over to offer shade but made the whole place sparkle with diffused light.
When I stopped wetting myself with glee I took some snaps, then dowsed this place. Obviously the last place was Little Lud’s Pew or something. Little Lord Fauntleroy for all I cared – this place here was obviously Lud’s Church. I thought about the name. Shame it was attributed to a Reformist character, and that I didn’t know any earlier names, perhaps more relevant to me. The dowsing showed a male line going down the centre, and female and neutral lines dancing across it from side to side between the ravine’s steep edges, often ending in a spiral by a particularly wet patch, or going into a recess or opening in the rock face.
As I left I took the higher path, dazed by the splendour of the sights, but was immendiately brought back to earth by the path ahead turning into a quagmire between young birch trees. I navigated my way across like a pond-skater, and then found a path going back down the steep hill. I wasn’t ready to walk that path – I wanted to walk straight down the front of the hill through the tall pines and across a particularly beautiful mossy expanse which rolled down the hillside like an afghan rug made of silky materials. As I descended I saw a perch – two rocks forming a hollow overlooking the mossy expanse. I headed towards it and found that it made the most excellent meditation spot. I loitered awhile soaking up the last of the forest’s ambience before taking ym life in my hands and hurtling straight down the hilliside at a pace! Good fun to let yourself go once in a while.
I trekked back to the car to find I was one of the last to leave. Others had pitched camp by the car park whilst I had been away, and my staff got some unusual looks from a straight family playing at being straight. Good for them. I hoped they were enjoying themselves fetching water from the river like in older times. We should all carry water more often, I felt, to remember how it feels not to have water on-tap. Perhaps this glum-looking family might even extend the water a kind word or two, or talk to it as it helps them to take away their unwanted grease and grime. It’s a two way street, I was learning. You have to give something back. For me, it was manifesting patterns with stones. A transference of energies. I hoped it wasn’t too much a narrow lane, like some of these country lanes round Derbyshire; I was hoping the flow would develop into a nice A-road in the country. So to speak.
Gwas
Follow your true path.
