Lakeland Paranormal
for Scuba Divers
Scuba spooks art graphic
Grisdale Tarn Valid HTML 4.01 Transitional
Story Source:

Author: Herbert and Mary Jackson
Book Title: Ghoulish Horrible Hair raising Cumbrian Tales

Grisdale Tarn
In the aftermath of a ferociously fought battle near Dunmail Raise, just south of Thirlmere reservoir, between King Dunmail of Cumberland and the Saxon army, in the year circa 940 AD, the following legend is written:

After the battle, as King Dunmail lay dying, his last words were. "My crown, bear it away, never let the Saxon flaunt it."

For it was known that whoever wore the crown of Dunmail would succeed to the Kingdom of Cumbria. The King's personal body guard removed the crown from the head of their dying monarch and with unprecedented gallantry fought their way through the Saxon lines.

Eventually they reached Grisdale tarn, where with all due ceremony and reverence, the crown was consigned to its deepest waters, with these words, "Till Dunmail come again to lead us."
Each year, on the anniversary of the King's death, his warriors return to the tarn. The crown is retrieved and carried back to the cairn of stones under which their beloved Dunmail lies. In turn, the warriors knock with their spears on the topmost stones of the cairn.

From that grave a voice cries out. "Not yet; not yet - wait a while my warriors." The day is yet to come when the spirit of Dunmail will re-join his warriors and crown a new King of Cumbria.

King Owain, Dunmail's father. Came to the throne in circa 920. A battle took place on the flat of a mountain top at Ecclfechan. What happened to Owain after the battle against the English in which he lost in 938 is not known. But his son went on to succeed him.

Shortly after this, another battle took place as they thought step by step up the Ghyll of Dunmail's beck - broke through all resistance on the open fell, and. Aided by a dense cloud, evaded their pursuers. Two hours later the faithful few met by Grisdale Tarn, and consigned the crown to it's depths - "till Dunmail come again to lead us." And every year the warriors come back, draw up the magic circlet from the depths of the wild mountain tarn, and carry it with them over the Seat Sandal to where the king is sleeping his age long sleep. They knock with his spear on the topmost stone of the cairn and from it's heart come's a voice. "Not yet; not yet - wait a while my warriors."

Alt navigation:-