Fogous and Creeps in Cornwall
by Elyn Aviva
Pendeen Fogou wasn’t a very prepossessing site. To reach it, the three of us—my husband, Gary, our guide, Cheryl Straffon, and I—had to unfasten three rusty metal gates to venture ever deeper into a farmer’s cattle yard. The broken concrete beneath our feet was covered with several layers of dried (or drying) cow manure. Cattle were lowing and resting in their own muck in the nearby pens.
Our goal was a six-foot-tall stone structure with tall grasses and weeds growing out of the top and a yawning opening in one wall. Before we could enter the site, we had one more obstruction: a detached farm gate, which the three of us hauled over to one side.
Bending low, we followed Cheryl down a steep, stone-lined passage deep into the earth. I was grateful I had my hiking staffs to help keep me from slipping. At the bottom, the rocky passage leveled out. My flashlight illuminated moss-covered granite walls and ceiling, the large stones carefully placed to construct the fogou. Pronounced “foo-goo,” it’s a Cornish word that means “cave,” and it refers to a human-made underground cavern. It usually has a long, slightly curving central passage; another, even smaller passage called a “creep” that was originally the only entrance into the fogou; and often another passage or chamber off to one side. Although now we enter most fogous through the open end of one of the larger passages, originally the “creep” was the only way in and out—and it always descends steeply.
Fogous seem to be unique to Cornwall and were constructed some 2500 years ago, during the Cornish Iron Age, and are always found near Iron Age settlements. Some authorities suggest they were used for food storage, but they are usually too damp for that; some suggest refuge, but with only one entrance they would have been death traps. No bones have been found in them, so they were not burial places. It is probable that they were used for ceremony and ritual.
Cheryl sat on a large flat rock conveniently placed at the “Y” junction between the passage we had come down, another passage to the left, and the tiny creep passage to the right. Gary sat down on another stone, next to the creep, his back to the entry passage.
I followed very slowly down the dirt and rock-covered floor. Partway down, a wave of emotion swept through me. “Where’d that come from?” I thought to myself. “What am I crying about?” I knew this was a signal for me to stop, wait, and ask permission to proceed.
Listening in stillness, to stillness, I “heard” an affirmative response. Legs shaking, I continued into the fogou and sat down on a rock in the passage to the left of Cheryl. I was trembling.
Cheryl looked at me. “You feel it, do you?”
“I want to cry.”
She nodded. “But it’s not from sadness.”
“No—it’s from overwhelming emotion. I don’t know what or why.”
“I know. I’ve felt it too.”
I sat on my rock, trying not to burst into tears, while Cheryl explained the archeology of the site. The rocky passage I was sitting in points northwest, in the direction of the ocean and the setting summer solstice sun. Most fogous point northeast, in the direction of the rising summer solstice sun. Because the original blocking stone had been removed, light was now shining into this passage. It’s possible that originally the passage was closed with a moveable stone, and ceremonies could have taken place that culminated with someone inside the fogou watching the sun set into the ocean on the longest day and shortest night of the year.
The large speckled stone behind Cheryl glittered when she shone her flashlight on it—millennia ago, she would have held a tiny flickering tallow lamp to light the darkness. Then she shone her flashlight over the creep passage on the right. This would have been the original entry but was now blocked off. She explained that the walls were constructed with alternating organic and inorganic materials (stone and filler), perhaps creating some kind of special energy in the place—like Wilhelm Reich’s “orgone generator” box. I wondered if that contributed to what I was experiencing.
The entrance to the creep was very low—about 1-1/2 feet high. A wooden plank had been placed on the rock-strewn floor just inside. You could slide into the creep on your belly under the low lintel. The passage opened up beyond, becoming a bit more spacious.
Imagine sliding down from light into darkness on your belly, squeezing through the tiny, constricted entrance into the main passageways—like entering into a womb—and then later exiting through what had become a birth canal. Perhaps you came to take part in an initiation ritual or a shamanic journey. Perhaps you came to spend an extended period in darkness, fasting, or taking psychotropic drugs to bring on visions. Perhaps you came to honor the longest night and shortest day of the annual cycle of the sun. Perhaps you came….
As we talked about rituals and transformation, childbirth and initiation, I felt a chill breeze blow through the passageway and I started to shiver. “Do you feel a cold wind?” I asked.
Gary nodded. “I feel it on my back.”
Maybe the wind was blowing down from the entrance, I thought. But apparently not. Cheryl said she didn’t feel it. My teeth started to chatter. Maybe this wasn’t the chill of wind but the movement of Spirit. I asked for us to sit in silence for a few minutes while we “listened” to the fogou. A strange, high-pitched buzzing filled my ears, like the faint hum of a swarm of bees. This was soon followed by a distant rhythmic sound that I can only liken to the beat of dewclaw rattles tied around the ankles of Native American dancers.
“Do you hear that high-pitched hum?” I asked.
Gary nodded.
Cheryl said, “Perhaps you are hearing something called the “hummadruz”—an enigmatic buzzing sound sometimes heard at sacred sites.
While we sat in semi-darkness, Cheryl told us the legend of the spectral Lady in White who sometimes appears at this fogou on Christmas Day. If you see her, you’ll (supposedly) die before the next Christmas. Cheryl suggested perhaps she represents a garbled memory of the priestesses who were associated with this sacred place. Perhaps Christian priests wanted people to stay away from the fogou—particularly at Christmas, which is, after all, a date very close to the winter solstice. How better to break the Old Ways than with the fear of imminent death?
We sat in stillness again. Then Cheryl and Gary made their way back up the passage to the light. I stayed behind in darkness, listening to the faint humming of bees, the distant rhythmic sound of a rattle. I was still shaky; I still wanted to cry; but I no longer felt chilled to the bone.
I know we bring our culturally constructed expectations to our experiences. It’s unavoidable. I wondered whether someone who knew the legend of the Lady in White would associate the humming, the cold wind, the strong emotions I was feeling with her (or it). To me, they seemed to emanate from the stones themselves, from the Spirit of the Place that was so palpably present, several thousand years after the fogou had been abandoned. Of course, that was also a culturally constructed explanation, even if one I made up myself. Whatever it was, I had been gifted with a completely unexpected experience, for which I was filled with gratitude.
I sat in stillness for a while longer. Then it was time to go, although time had no meaning in this ancient fogou.
Author’s Note: For information about Cheryl Straffon and her books on Cornwall, go to www.meynmamvro.co.uk.
Elyn Aviva is a transformational traveler, writer, and fiber artist who lives in Girona, Spain. Her blog is www.powerfulplaces.com/blog. Her most recent book is Where Heaven and Earth Unite – Powerful Places, Sacred Sites, and You,” co-authored with Ferran Blasco. She is co-author with her husband, Gary White, of “Powerful Places Guidebooks.” To learn more about her publications, go to www.powerfulplaces.com and www.pilgrimsprocess.com. To learn about Elyn’s fiber art, go to www.fiberalchemy.com.
22 Comments
Reader Comments (22)
Lovely post, Elyn, thank you. I was there many, many years ago. It is a rather special place.
What a delightful tale and description of the sounds of the "spirit of place"Elyn!
Thank you both. Can you say more, Sue, about your visit to Pendeen Fogou?
Elyn, Thank you for transporting me/us to this powerful place, as you've done before with many others. It is curious to consider the energies that surround us always, if we quiet our minds and tune in; a marvelous reminder of of The Mysteries of this often seemingly-mundane life.
Thank you Aysha--you are right to remind us that Mystery surrounds us everywhere. It may be easier to encounter in some of the sacred sites and powerful places we visit, but the Mystery is always present--in the drop of water in a fountain, in the flight of birds.... Really, nothing is mundane if we are fully present and aware and awake. But oh, what a challenge that is!
Really enjoyed the story. Thanks
This is such a fine read, Elyn. You amaze me at all your intrepid travels. Even if I were physically able, I'm not sure I would lower myself into this cavern! But it's a lovely recounting of your travel - and the pictures too. Thank you for sharing your experience. Stay well - and keep travelling as we appreciate your writings. Love, Sekhmet Anna
We had some great feedback on your previous article here, I've added a link to this one as well
http://www.megalithic.co.uk/modules.php?op=modload&name=Forum&file=viewtopic&topic=6337&forum=4
Elyn, You are so lucky(or well trained) to be open to these experiences and you describe them so movingly. I almost feel as if
I were there, but I'm not sure I would even try to descend into such a place.Mostly because of physical limitations at this point.
How I wish I had been exposed to all these things years ago.It must also be a great advantage to go to so many of the places you describe with a guide.The pictures are very helpful.
My questions are- what are you seeking by visiting all these places? How are they changing you?
This is a very important place. Thank you for sharing your experience of it. I was very moved by it. Why not spend the night there with a respectful attitude?
Lovely account Elyn of a fascinating place.. You transport us there with your vivid description!
Ooo, thanks all for your replies! And for making me think beyond and within. Pamela--not sure I could have managed a night there, though that is a thought! I'm reminded of legends about a mountaintop in Wales (Cadair Idris?), where if you stayed the night you either went mad, died, or became a poet (or something like that).
Wendy--absolutely, having a good guide makes a huge difference, and Carol Straffon is a very attuned guide. We write our Powerful Places Guidebooks to help lead people in the direction of having an experience, but there's nothing like a live guide. As to what are we seeking and how have they changed us? BIG questions. Complicated because we are "seeking" experience and information for our books, not just for ourselves. Seeking to honor these places, to recognize the Mystery that is everywhere. How have they changed us? In more ways than we know, I'm sure. Affirming the power of place, that there is more in the reality than we usually acknowledge. And to be of service to the Land, Nature, the sacred sites by sharing what we have learned with others so that they, too, may have an experience of the Mystery.
As a fellow traveler on these forays into ancient sites I feel called upon to make a response. We got into the Powerful Places series several years ago because I realized that we were drawn to such sites and wanted to document our experiences there. How have the sites changed us? In ways beyond our knowing, I'm sure. But, for me, one obvious outcome is a growing respect for our ancestors and their wisdom. I have come to believe that they still have much to teach us if we are able to be quiet enough to truly listen to them. It may be that it will be their wisdom that will give us the insights we will need to survive as a species.
A moving account of your experience Elyn. It is not difficult to sense the traces of our forefathers in these underground caverns. They 'talk' to us through the stones and the centuries melt away when we are touched by their presence. You, Gary and Cheryl have now left your own traces to the mix, to reach out to those who venture there after you, to linger awhile, to acknowledge and absorb the collective wisdom of our ancestors that somehow seeps into the very pores of our being. Thank you for sharing your account. Caro
Hi Caro--you point out something I easily forget or ignore--that we, too, leave our traces behind. It's obvious when it's a bit of candle wax or an aluminum tea-candle holder, or a crystal or a ribbon. But not so obvious when it's the energetic traces we're leaving behind.... the traces of ourselves and our experiences.
"And to be of service to the Land, Nature, the sacred sites by sharing what we have learned with others so that they, too, may have an experience of the Mystery." -Elyn
And you do this so well. Thank you.
When I went to Scotland in June with a cousin who was poo-pooing the whole Idea of ancient sacred places, but took him to Rosslyn
Chapel, Clava Cairns, the stone circle & standing stones on Mull, as well as Iona & another circle we found, at the end of the trip
he thanked me for exposing him to a whole world about which he had known nothing. Of course I had given him a copy of your
Guidebook to Scotland, but until he actually experienced those places,it didn't mean much.
But in visiting these places, making it a ceremony instead of just sauntering in, thanks to your suggestions, made them more meaningful and powerful too.
Oh Wendy--Gary and I are sitting here grinning and crying (well, I exaggerate about the tears, but only a little) at your description of your visit to Scotland with our guidebook. THAT'S what we hoped our books would help accomplish. It's encouraging to read your comment. Thank you! And how fortunate your cousin was to have you as his guide.
Best,
Elyn and Gary
Thanks, Andy, for linking to megalithic.co.uk -- that 's an amazing website! Absolutely a must-visit. I frequently consult it before (and after) visiting powerful places.
This sounds like an amazing place, I have been to several of the cornish rogues and really like them. Just one thing - north-east is the rising place for midSUMMER sunrise, and northwest is midSUMMER sunset.....
Ros--thank you for catching that error. You are of course right. I guess I'm astronomically challenged!
"The rocky passage I was sitting in points northwest, in the direction of the ocean and the setting winter solstice sun. Most fogous point northeast, in the direction of the rising winter solstice sun." That SHOULD read, "The rocky passage I was sitting in points northwest, in the direction of the ocean and the setting SUMMER solstice sun. Most fogous point northeast, in the direction of the rising SUMMER solstice sun."
Also--" It’s possible that originally the passage was closed with a moveable stone, and ceremonies could have taken place that culminated with someone inside the fogou watching the sun set into the ocean on the shortest day and longest night of the year." That SHOULD read, " It’s possible that originally the passage was closed with a moveable stone, and ceremonies could have taken place that culminated with someone inside the fogou watching the sun set into the ocean on the LONGEST day and SHORTEST night of the year."
I'll see if I can get the text changed. Many thanks!
Great article and what an experience! I would love to visit the site, quiet impresive!!
Thanks, Rosa!