Today is Easter Sunday, the first Sunday after the full moon of the Spring equinox, so it’s a good day for another Yorkshire legend. This one was told to me by the mother of my friend from London whilst we walked on the shore of Semer Water deep in the Yorkshire Dales.

The lake is in Raydale, a small hidden dale at that runs south from the top of the larger and more famous Wensleydale. It’s a lovely quiet place to visit and there is a bench with a view over the lake where you can sit and admire the vista painted by the artist J.M.W. Turner during his tour of 1816 as he journeyed from Wharfedale.

During the pandemic I helped look after my friend’s mother as she had dementia and the law at that time forbade travel from London to Yorkshire. So, when the restrictions eased we decided to take her on an outing to Wensleydale where she had spent her childhood as an evacuee from the wartime bombing in Sunderland. 

When we got there, she transformed from being a forgetful old lady to a skipping young child. She could remember the finest detail of her life in the Wensleydale village where she was billeted, and when we went for a walk on the beach at Semer Water she told me two legends she’d learnt during her stay.

The first was about the Carlow Stone, which is just by the beach. It’s a strange shape and legend has it that a giant threw it from the heights of Addlebrough at the devil who was on the crag on the other side of Raydale. But it fell short and landed on the banks of the river Bain. The devil threw one back, but that too fell short and can be found on the slopes of Addlebrough marked with striations from the claws of the devil himself.

The second legend was about the wondrous city of Semer, which was full of fabulous buildings and wealthy merchants. A poor man came to the city in a storm seeking food and shelter, but all the rich people refused him. Finally, a poor shepherd who lived in the fields outside the city came to his aid. As you can well imagine, the poor man was no beggar but a powerful angel who then called down a flood and the city was submerged to become the lake Semer Water. Only the shepherd’s hut survived, and he and his family went on to gather land and prestige. Some say it’s Yorkshire’s very own Atlantis.

The legend is commemorated in a poem, the ‘Ballad of Semmerwater’, by Sir William Watson. A well-known poet in his time, he was considered for the position as poet laurate but never appointed to that exalted position. Perhaps because he wrote satirical verses about the Prime Minister’s wife, which is not a good move when looking for the Prime Minister’s favour. Here is the dramatic penultimate stanza: 

He has cursed aloud that city proud,

He has cursed it in its pride;

He has cursed it into Semmerwater

Down the brant hillside;

He has cursed it into Semmerwater,

There to bide.

I have visitors here on the moor for the Easter weekend so will be having a break from the internet and won’t be able to reply in the comments. So sending here very best Easter wishes to all Moodscopers!

Rowan on the Moor

A Moodscope member