Before The Land Forgets - exploring the ancient stories of Saddleworth Moor
Sacred stones, hidden burials and forgotten myths - I used to seek these in far flung places, buried cities where some dust-ridden explorer might stumble upon a lost relic. Over the years, those images have led me across the world, from tracing the edges of volcanoes in Iceland to camping under the Saharan stars, chasing a sense of ancient wonder. These trips have given me a sense of adventure, a small glimpse beyond a postcard, opening my eyes to breathtaking places and fascinating cultures, and yet there is one place I have been eager to explore more of - home.
I have always taken this place for granted. Knowing how big and wide the world was, I could not wait to escape, to see as much of it as my eager eyes could. When Covid hit and we were left to rediscover our backgardens, I began to uncover traces of stories I had never been told before. Tales of giants and druids, of mystical stones and malevolent fairies. For many, Saddleworth may conjure images of windblown moors and sodden bogs, shadowed by the horror of the Moors murders. But beyond the tragedy, lies a history that is all but forgotten. A history that stretches back centuries to the Neolithic age, where hunters once called this place their home.
Each generation left behind not only their tools, but their tales.
The best-known landmark in the area is the Roman fort at Castleshaw, but it sits atop a far older story, one that is written in flint and folklore. Across the moor are remnants of earlier lives which have been uncovered over the years, from arrowheads, shards of pottery, to burial grounds - all vanished long before history was written down. Each generation left behind not only their tools, but their tales.
We often dismiss folklore as bedtime stories— But Saddleworth’s stories of giants and water spirits, druids and fairies offer a window to a time where myth and memory were one of the same. Take the legend of Alphin and Alder, two giants who fought over a water nymph on the hills above Chew Valley. On the surface, is a myth like so many of Celtic origin - both Ireland and Scotland are full of stories of Giants. But look closer, and it starts to resemble something more grounded, tribal conflict, border disputes, passed down in a language of symbol and story.
many of these stories have faded, forgotten, or simply lost to time,
but I still believe there is more to be found
Before the Roman legions arrived, this land was home to the Brigantes—a Celtic tribe who settled across the north of Britain. Saddleworth lay on the edge of their territory, a shifting boundary pressed by waves of Germanic invasion. It’s not hard to imagine real battles echoing through the legend of giants clashing on the ridgeline. The two hills, Alderman’s Hill and Alphin’s Pike (named after the giants) are littered with rocks of all shapes and sizes, which are said to be the remnants of the epic clash of these giants. The Brigantine’s revered the landscape, using prominent rock formations as a ritual site, it is likely that these rocks became the inspiration of their storytelling.
The names of places provide further context to this past. Raven Stones Brow offers a commanding view across Greenfield Brook - a historic border marking. The raven, long associated with the Celtic goddess of war and prophecy, appears again and again across this land. Not just as a myth, but as a marker. I have found that much of this history and folklore is hard to find. Naturally, in a place as small as Saddleworth, many of these stories have faded, forgotten, or simply lost to time, but I still believe there is more to be found. Preserving this is essential to our cultural identity.
The more I dig into Saddleworth’s past, the more I believe there is still something to uncover.
Much of the groundwork to this preservation came from Ammon Wrigley, a local historian and poet, who collected these tales in the hope of uncovering Saddleworth’s lost past. His instincts were proven correct upon the discovery of Jackson’s Barrow Round - a burial ground that upon excavation, suggests a possible link to the Neolithic age. Wrigley believed more such sites existed, hidden beneath centuries of peat and erosion. He didn’t have the tools to find them all. But now, we might.
The more I dig into Saddleworth’s past, the more I believe there is still something to uncover. New technology—drone mapping, LiDAR, AI-enhanced terrain modeling—makes it possible to see beneath the visible. LiDAR (Light Detection and Ranging) uses laser light to map the ground surface, even under dense vegetation. It can reveal subtle features such as earthworks, ancient settlements, and other hidden archaeological sites that would be difficult to find using traditional methods. With the availability of this technology, more of our ancient sites are being uncovered. In 2024, it is estimated that hobbyist archaeologists identified almost 13,000 previously unknown sites in England alone. I have already conducted initial LiDAR scans across certain areas in Saddleworth with prominent neolithic findings and early signs indicate the potential of something remaining.
Peatlands are eroding, flooding, soil changes along with other
environmental issues pose a significant risk to our ancient sites.
It gives those like myself, a chance to find what has been lost. And there is a real risk of loss. Peatlands are eroding, flooding, soil changes along with other environmental issues pose a significant risk to our ancient sites. Studies suggest that four in five sites face high levels of risk from climate hazard. With smaller sites like Saddleworth, with no formal excavation efforts in place, much of what remains undocumented may vanish—buried under a car park, or washed away by a season of rain.
As a photographer and filmmaker, I’ve always found it essential to immerse myself in the land. It’s not just about light and form—it’s about story. Folklore and ancient myth gives the landscape a voice. Knowing these stories gives me an emotional connection to whatever it is I’m pointing the camera at. It’s no longer just stone or soil—it’s memory. It’s something alive.
“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something...”
I am reminded by one particular line in The Hobbit, “There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something...” What started as a lockdown project has become something more—a personal expedition. A quest not for treasure, but for knowledge. For preservation. For story. I’m not just walking the same hills Ammon Wrigley once did—I’m continuing his work. Before the land forgets.
