Giant Stories:
Tales of the Wrekin Giant
The Wrekin can lay many claims to fame in terms of literary associations but when it comes to ‘Walking with Giants’ it has an equally rich heritage in myth, legend and folklore. With a storied lineage dating back many centuries, to a time before the written word became king, tales of the famous hill are an important part of understanding its special relationship with the Shropshire people.
Myth, Legend and Folklore
In the realm of fantastic tales, myth, legend and folklore might seem like interchangeable terms. Myths, however, tend to concern the exploits of divine beings, while legends deal in superhuman feats, and are often connected to places. Both figure in the story of The Wrekin and its creation. While they might not stand-up to much scrutiny (the hill was in fact formed during a period of volcanic activity around 566 million years ago), the folklore they’ve produced — which has a lineage stretching back many centuries — is an important part of explaining our connection to this treasured local landscape.
Myth, Legend and Folklore
In the realm of fantastic tales, myth, legend and folklore might seem like interchangeable terms. Myths, however, tend to concern the exploits of divine beings, while legends deal in superhuman feats, and are often connected to places. Both figure in the story of The Wrekin and its creation. While they might not stand-up to much scrutiny (the hill was in fact formed during a period of volcanic activity around 566 million years ago), the folklore they’ve produced — which has a lineage stretching back many centuries — is an important part of explaining our connection to this treasured local landscape.
Beyond the Old Wall
In 1752, the famed poet and clergyman Goronwy Owen was teaching in the shadow of The Wrekin at Donington School in Wroxeter. Owen is widely credited as a leading figure in the revival of a Bardic, storytelling tradition in Welsh poetry that dates back to the Dark Ages. His interest in local folklore is illustrated by a letter to a friend concerning the then recent excavations of the ruined Roman military camp-cum-city at nearby Uriconium, the destruction of which he attributed to the Saxons:
“We have a tradition that it was set on fire by a flight of sparrows that had matches tied to their tails for that purpose by the enemy.”
It may not be the only story associated with the site, which was also the principal centre of the Celtic Cornovii tribe after the Roman Invasion (which had previously been located in the hillfort atop The Wrekin). It has been suggested that The Ruin, an old English poem of the eighth or ninth century, concerns the origins of the basilica wall and bathhouse at Wroxeter, which it attributes to the handiwork of giants. Whether this is true or not (and many scholars argue the poem really relates to the city of Bath), the role of these supersized goliaths in shaping the mythology of the local landscape is undeniable — and belongs to a rich storytelling tradition that appears in some of the Welsh language’s earliest texts.
The Wellington Cobbler
The role of giants in creating unusual or prominent landscape features is common to the folklore of many cultures and speaks of a universal need to explain the world around us. It is little wonder then that The Wrekin’s familiar, breaching whale-like contour, stranded amid the relatively flat terrain of central Shropshire, has inspired so much giant-based mythologising. Without doubt, the most well-known example concerns the exploits of one Gwendol Wrekin ap Shenkin ap Mynyddmawr, a vengeful, spade-wielding colossus with a longstanding grudge against Shrewsbury. After making a fateful decision to dam the River Severn and drown its residents, he is dissuaded by a quick-thinking local cobbler, whom he meets returning to Wellington from the county town with a bag of his customers’ worn out shoes (which he insists he alone has gone through during the course of the journey). A tired Gwendol convinced his intended target is still many miles away, decides to dump his load of earth where he stands and, in an instant, The Wrekin is created!
Folklore in the Railway Age
It seems likely the stories contained in some of Wales’ earliest texts (such as the medieval Canu Heledd poetry cycle) may have been related by word-of-mouth for many centuries before being written down. In fact, in terms of the printed word, we really have the Victorians to thank for the emergence of a great deal of folklore. The tourist industry that blossomed in the wake of the coming of the railways, when combined with the advent of mass printing that occurred in the nineteenth century, created perfect conditions for the retelling of many tales. So it was with another of The Wrekin’s most well-known fables.
In her memorably-titled compendium Shropshire Folklore: A Sheaf of Gleanings, Charlotte Burne relayed for the first time the ancient story of two bellicose, giant siblings (we shall call them Ercol and Madog — all shall become clear!) who decide to build a new hill for themselves in east Shropshire after being cast out of their old kingdom. Digging out the River Severn and piling-up the displaced earth to form The Wrekin, the protagonists then tip their hats to another time-honoured tradition of European Giant-lore by fighting with each other! In myth and legend, such battles are regularly the cause of many-a-hill-and-mountain but, in The Wrekin’s case, they also explain several of its geological features.
Through the Needle’s Eye
The Needle’s Eye, a sprawling rock with a prominent cleft, forms a highly distinctive bookend to the hilltop when viewed from the south or east. Unsurprisingly, the stony outcrop figures strongly in local folklore, and is the subject of a number of superstitions. You’re said not to be a true Salopian, for instance, unless you’ve clambered through the cleft. The crack in the rock also figures strongly in giant-lore. During their pitch battle for control of the hill, Madog’s eye is pecked at by a passing Raven (a native crow that is still common atop the hill today). This not only causes him to throw down his spade in fury — which is said to be responsible for the famous cleft — but to shed an enormous tear that creates the Raven’s Bowl, a small, water-filled divot in the smaller outcrop immediately to the north of the Needle’s Eye. It is said never to run dry of water, even on the hottest days, and dropping a pin in the depression is reputedly a recipe for good fortune!
For poor, vanquished Ercol — who sadly succumbed to Madog’s malevolence — his final resting place was within the hill that now bears his name, The Ercall (we told you it would become clear!). However, other evidence of their epic encounter can also be found elsewhere atop The Wrekin. The perennially bare ground around the Bladder Stone (which lies between the Needles Eye and Raven’s Bowl) is supposedly the result of the grass never growing back from beneath the siblings warring feet. It has been suggested that the name of this lesser known outcrop is a derivation of Balder, the son of Odin in Norse mythology — a tradition in which giants were primeval beings overcome by the Gods. Nearby Watling Street once marked the ninth century boundary between Wessex and Danelaw rule, and the example of the Bladder Stone provides an intriguing clue that many cultures may have come together to shape the folklore of this corner of east Shropshire.
Around The Wrekin, little is as it first seems!
Through the Needle’s Eye
The Needle’s Eye, a sprawling rock with a prominent cleft, forms a highly distinctive bookend to the hilltop when viewed from the south or east. Unsurprisingly, the stony outcrop figures strongly in local folklore, and is the subject of a number of superstitions. You’re said not to be a true Salopian, for instance, unless you’ve clambered through the cleft. The crack in the rock also figures strongly in giant-lore. During their pitch battle for control of the hill, Madog’s eye is pecked at by a passing Raven (a native crow that is still common atop the hill today). This not only causes him to throw down his spade in fury — which is said to be responsible for the famous cleft — but to shed an enormous tear that creates the Raven’s Bowl, a small, water-filled divot in the smaller outcrop immediately to the north of the Needle’s Eye. It is said never to run dry of water, even on the hottest days, and dropping a pin in the depression is reputedly a recipe for good fortune!
For poor, vanquished Ercol — who sadly succumbed to Madog’s malevolence — his final resting place was within the hill that now bears his name, The Ercall (we told you it would become clear!). However, other evidence of their epic encounter can also be found elsewhere atop The Wrekin. The perennially bare ground around the Bladder Stone (which lies between the Needles Eye and Raven’s Bowl) is supposedly the result of the grass never growing back from beneath the siblings warring feet. It has been suggested that the name of this lesser known outcrop is a derivation of Balder, the son of Odin in Norse mythology — a tradition in which giants were primeval beings overcome by the Gods. Nearby Watling Street once marked the ninth century boundary between Wessex and Danelaw rule, and the example of the Bladder Stone provides an intriguing clue that many cultures may have come together to shape the folklore of this corner of east Shropshire.
Around The Wrekin, little is as it first seems!