Uncovering the Haunting Beauty of Heptonstall’s Ruined Church

Location: Church of St Thomas A Becket, Heptonstall Date: 16th November 2013

Camera: Samsung Galaxy Tablet

 High above the bohemian valley of Hebden Bridge, where the air grows thin and the wind carries the scent of gritstone and damp moorland, sits the medieval village of Heptonstall. It is a place where time doesn't just slow down; it feels as though it has been deliberately tethered to the 13th century. At the heart of this atmospheric hilltop hamlet lies its most striking landmark: the skeletal remains of the Church of St Thomas à Becket.

Walking through the ancient stone gateway into the graveyard, you aren’t just entering a place of rest—you’re stepping into a layered history of rebellion, tragedy, and literary legend.

The Ruins of the Church of St Thomas à Becket, Heptonstall

---

A Church Built on Grit and Resistance

The original church of St Thomas à Becket was founded between 1256 and 1260. Dedicated to the martyred Archbishop of Canterbury, the choice of patron saint was no accident. Thomas à Becket was a symbol of resistance against state authority, a sentiment that has always resonated deeply with the fierce, independent spirit of the Pennine hill people.

For nearly six centuries, this building served as the spiritual anchor for the hand-loom weavers of the Calder Valley. Unlike the grand cathedrals of the south, this church was built low and sturdy to withstand the brutal Pennine winters. By the 15th century, it had grown into a complex structure with two naves, two aisles, and two chantry chapels.

However, the very elements it was built to resist eventually became its undoing.

The Storm That Changed Everything

In 1847, a violent storm tore across the hilltop. The gale was so fierce that it ripped the west face of the church tower clean off. Masonry crashed through the roof, causing irreparable damage to the ancient structure.

While the villagers initially tried to patch the wounds of their beloved church, the cost of repair was deemed too high. Instead of rebuilding, the community made a radical decision: they would build a brand-new church right next to the old one. This created the unique sight we see today—two churches standing side-by-side in a single graveyard. The "new" church, St Thomas the Apostle, was completed in 1854, leaving the medieval ruins to become a haunting shell, reclaimed by moss and the open sky.

Beyond the Ruins: A Graveyard of Legends

The churchyard at Heptonstall is legendary in its own right, famously holding the remains of over 100,000 people. Because space was so limited on the steep hillside, gravestones were often recycled, with inscriptions on both sides.

As you wander through the ruins, two specific graves draw visitors from across the globe:

• David "King" Hartley: Nestled near the old ruins lies the leader of the Cragg Vale Coiners. In the 18th century, Hartley and his gang "clipped" the edges of gold coins to produce counterfeits, a crime that nearly collapsed the British economy. He was eventually hanged at York in 1770, but remains a local folk hero. Look closely at his headstone; you will often find modern coins left by visitors as a tribute.

• Sylvia Plath: In the "new" section of the graveyard across the lane lies the final resting place of the American poet Sylvia Plath. Plath, who was married to local Poet Laureate Ted Hughes, took her own life in 1963. Her grave is a pilgrimage site for writers and fans, often adorned with pens and flowers. The headstone itself tells a story of conflict; the name "Hughes" has been repeatedly chiselled off by fans who blame Ted for her tragic end.

A Screen-Siren Location

If the ruins feel familiar, it might be because they have become a favourite for filmmakers. The atmospheric gritstone and eerie silence of Heptonstall have featured in major productions, including the BBC’s "The Gallows Pole" (which dramatizes the story of the Coiners) and the hit series "Happy Valley." ### Tips for Your Visit If you’re planning to experience this Pennine gem for yourself, here are a few things to keep in mind:

1. Wear Sturdy Shoes: The graveyard is famously uneven. The flat "pavement" gravestones can be incredibly slippery when wet, and the ground around the ruins is rugged.

2. Leave the Car Behind: Heptonstall’s cobbled streets are narrow and not designed for modern traffic. Park at the designated Bowling Club car park or, better yet, take the steep, historic walk up "The Buttress" from Hebden Bridge.

3. Visit the Museum: Located in the old grammar school just across from the ruins, the Heptonstall Museum provides incredible context to the village's weaving history and the Civil War battles fought on these very streets.

---

The ruins of St Thomas à Becket are more than just a photo opportunity. They are a monument to the endurance of the Yorkshire spirit—a place where the roof has fallen, but the history remains standing tall. Whether you’re a history buff, a literary fan, or a photographer chasing the "Golden Hour," Heptonstall offers a quiet, powerful beauty that stays with you long after you’ve descended back into the valley.

Two Doors, Two Townships: The Dark History of Luddenden’s Lock-Up

Location: Luddenden Date: 13th November 2013 Camera: Samsung Galaxy Tablet

The Historic Luddenden Jail Cells

 Nestled in the heart of the Luddenden Valley, where the steep hills of West Yorkshire bleed into the grey-stone charm of a bygone era, sits a curious architectural anomaly. To the casual passer by, they look like nothing more than two sturdy, weather-worn doors set into the base of a gritstone wall. But look closer at the lintels, and you will see the faded carvings of a long-abandoned legal system: MIDGLEY over the left door, and WARLEY over the right.

This is the Luddenden Jail, a rare surviving example of a village "lock-up" or "clink." It is a physical reminder of a time when justice was local, swift, and—in the case of these two cramped stone cells—distinctly territorial.

A Village Divided by the Brook

To understand why Luddenden required two separate jail cells side-by-side, one must understand the geography of the Luddenden Brook. Historically, the brook didn't just provide water for the valley's many textile mills; it served as a rigid boundary. On the western bank sat the township of Midgley, and on the eastern bank lay the township of Warley.

Luddenden itself was a village straddling these two administrative worlds. In the 18th and early 19th centuries, before the advent of a centralized national police force, each township was responsible for its own law and order. If a Midgley man spent too long in the Lord Nelson Inn and began causing a ruckus, he couldn't simply be thrown into any cell. He was the responsibility of the Midgley constable. Thus, two cells were built to ensure that neither township had to pay for the "hospitality" of the other’s criminals.

Life Behind the Iron Doors

The doors themselves are a testament to the seriousness of their purpose. Heavy, dark, and reinforced with iron, they are secured with massive padlocks that look as though they haven't turned in a century. The cells behind them are small, windowless, and notoriously damp.

These were not places for long-term incarceration. They were "holding cells," designed to house the local drunk, the petty thief, or the violent brawler overnight. The goal was to keep the offender secure until they could be sobered up or brought before a magistrate in a larger town like Halifax.

Imagine being shuttered behind those doors in the dead of a Pennine winter. With no heating, no light, and only the sound of the nearby brook rushing past, a night in the Luddenden Jail was intended to be a miserable deterrent. It was a "cooling-off" period in the most literal, bone-chilling sense of the word.

The Constable’s Burden

In the era of these lock-ups, the role of "Parish Constable" was often a thankless, unpaid position held by local tradesmen. They were tasked with everything from catching stray dogs to apprehending dangerous felons. Having a local lock-up was essential for these men. Without a secure place to store a prisoner, the constable might have to keep the offender in his own home or sit with them in a local pub—hardly an ideal situation for maintaining the peace.

The Luddenden lock-up represents the final era of this localized policing. By the mid-19th century, the Rural Police Act of 1839 began to phase out these village clinks in favour of professional, county-wide constabularies and larger, more "civilized" police stations.

A Silent Witness to Luddenden’s Past

Today, the jail is one of the most photographed spots in the village, a quiet participant in the "Luddenden Trail." It stands as a grimly fascinating relic of the industrial revolution, a time when the valley was a hub of milling activity and the population was booming.

While the mills have mostly closed or been converted into stylish apartments, the jail remains unchanged. It serves as a reminder that the charming, peaceful Luddenden we see today was once a rugged frontier of the industrial world, where the divide between Midgley and Warley was a matter of law, order, and cold stone walls.

Next time you find yourself wandering the cobbled streets of the valley, stop by these two doors. Touch the cold iron and read the names of the old townships. It’s a rare chance to stand face-to-face with the harsher side of Yorkshire history.