Cornwall, October 2019, day 5

Saturday 26th - Boscastle and the All Hallows Gathering

My friend had suggested this particular week for me to go down to visit her because at the end of it was a pagan-y, witchy event held nearby, and we're both into that sort of thing. It was the sixth annual All Hallow's Dark Gathering in Boscastle, home of the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic. I didn't really know what to expect, as the event's website didn't have much detail about the schedule, but was intrigued and looking forward to it. I didn't notice the archive of blog posts about all the previous events - those would have given me a much better idea, haha.

The morning was a lazy one - I stayed in bed and read my book while my friend and her parents watched the Rugby World Cup Semi-Final in the lounge; I did end up slightly regretting that, as it turned out to be a rather impressive and historic match, but oh well. In the afternoon we all drove up to Boscastle, just a few miles away, and met up with my friend's aunt and her family who were on holiday as well.

There had been storytelling sessions in the museum earlier in the day, but we arrived too late for that. The Morris dancing started at 3pm outside the museum so we walked down there to watch it amongst a good crowd of witches, pagans, folky folks and curious members of the general public. It was windy and cold! But thankfully, surprisingly - magically - the rain which had been falling all day stopped just 40 minutes beforehand and held off for the rest of the event. There were three Morris groups: Wreckers Border Morris, based locally in North Cornwall, Beltane Border Morris, based in Dartmoor, and raven-masked duo Huginn & Muninn, from London. The latter, named after Norse god Odin's two raven companions and inspired by Scandinavian myths and legends, were unique, funny, and a little bizarre, at one point replacing their raven masks with enormous black opaque balloons. There was an MC who explained the context before each dance, but the wind and the rushing river were too loud for me to hear him from where I stood. It was good to see some teenage members among the dancers, too.

Morris dancers outside the Museum of Witchcraft & Magic

I enjoyed all the dancing, but my favourite Morris side was definitely Beltane, I loved them immediately. Inspired by the myths, legends and wilds of Dartmoor, they're darker and have more intensity than most Morris I've seen (which isn't loads, I grant you); there are no bells or handkerchiefs or white outfits, it's sticks and drums and roaring voices and black tattered clothes and blackened faces, their fiery energy delving into something ancient, deep, and mysterious. I'd join them in a heartbeat if I could.

Some Morris sides, like Beltane, practice "blacking", blackening their faces, which causes controversy because many people assume it has something to do with race. It doesn't. In addition to being an ages-old disguise which brings a sense of anonymity, mystery, the supernatural, and the dark side, it's actually a way of remembering the oppression of working classes. In the past, poor land labourers used to perform dances or mummers plays to raise money for food or other necessities, and would blacken their faces so they wouldn't be recognised and punished or victimised for begging. More horrifically, following the activities of a couple of large, organised groups of poachers who blackened their faces to try and avoid identification, in 1723 the British government passed the "Black Act", introducing the death penalty for 50 criminal acts (bringing the total number of capital offences up to around 200, the highest number for any country, ever). From then on, people could be executed just for blacking their face or wearing a mask, among countless other small things like fishing in a private pond or damaging a hedge, and the legal rights of defendants were almost non-existent. While we in the UK thankfully no longer have the death penalty, dire poverty still exists, as do laws largely protecting the interests of comfortable property owners, and the poor are often victimised and powerless. So Morris dancers painting their faces black is a way of remembering, bearing witness, and standing in solidarity.

I felt bad for Cwmni Gwerin Pontypwl, the little group of traditional Welsh dancers who performed when the Morris dancing took a break at 4, as most of the audience dispersed. I'm sorry to say it just wasn't interesting enough to hold my attention in the chilly wind and I went with my friend and her family up the street to get something to eat, to tide us over till dinner. The chip shop had a little marker plaque on to indicate how high the 2004 floodwaters had reached; it was above everyone's heads. The Morris dancing resumed for a while before finishing around 5pm, and we went up to sit in the pub and warm up. Before the lantern procession at 6pm, we crossed the little river and walked down the length of the narrow harbour, past the two 16th-century harbour walls, to the inlet, and stood there for a while looking out at the glimpse of sunset on the horizon between the cliffs. A seal popped its head up a few times.

Boscastle's harbour inlet

Boscastle harbour

The procession would make its way down from the main car park at the top of the village to the museum, so we waited by the museum, where at 6pm there appeared Penkevyll the Lands End 'Oss and her Teazers. The 'Oss was a sort of hobby horse, a decorated and caped horse's skull carried on a stick or pole by someone hidden beneath the black, yellow-ribbonned cape, and the Teazers led her in a dance (https://youtu.be/hTt2h8vdA2s). I loved the drums, tribal and trance-like. Another 'Oss wandered around through the crowd dressed in a bright blue cape decorated with seashells and led by a Rider walking in front holding a rein. It was interesting. The dance and drumming continued as a sort of summons until the procession arrived, bringing Penkevyll's "bone sisters" the Mari Lwyds, from Wales, to join her. One was cloaked in white with red ribbons, but the other was the creepiest of the three - standing like seven feet tall, cloaked in black, the skull painted black and decorated with white swirls and dots, little red lights in the eye sockets, a fake pigeon also with red eyes perching on top of the skull, and dark blue fairy lights wrapped around the top of it like some sort of crown.

Penkevyll the 'Oss and her Teazers

The Pwnco Ceremony followed. Penkevyll and her Teazers went into the museum, and the Mari Lwyds stopped at the door to beseech entry. I was too far away to hear or see the goings-on, but the Welsh dancers accompanying the Mari Lwyds spoke traditional ritual verses in Welsh, which were responded to in Cornish. Eventually they were successful and joined Penkevyll in the museum to bless it for the coming year.

Outside in the twilight, lit only by a few flaming torches around the circle, next up was storytelling duo Stone Soup. They were good, energetic, but unfortunately the wind meant that I couldn't hear most of it so couldn't follow the story. It was something about a soldier who meets a stranger who convinces him to work for him for seven years, looking after his cooking pots but not being allowed to look inside them. All I can really remember is the repeated refrains of "Chop, chop, chop! Feed, feed, feed! Bubble, bubble, bubble! Sweep, sweep, sweep!"

The overcast sky meant that it was almost full dark by this point. When the story finished and the event's MC started to say something about a dark apparition sometimes seen in deepest Dorset, "an eerie, unholy rhythm involving drums, fiddle, and voice commenced" (quote from the event's blog - it's a cool description and I couldn't have put it any more interestingly). Glowing red smoke started billowing on the hillside above the performance area, from which rose up a huge head, human-featured but horned and otherworldly. The Darkest Ooser slowly made its way down the hill to the gathered crowd, led by a thick chain in the hand of a creepy attendant who was shrouded in black and carrying a skull-topped staff. After moving around the edge of the audience, its huge red eyes staring, the Ooser stepped back to watch the rest of the proceedings.

A beautiful prayer-like song was sung. Due to the strong wind and the un-amplified voice, I couldn't really hear it, but I've since discovered it was The Traveller's Prayer written by folk musician John Renbourne (https://youtu.be/BRxK6tl4-1M). Then one of the Beltane men stepped forward. Holding a staff at arms length, pointed towards the crowd, he moved slowly in a clockwise circle, piercing the night with an eerie, slow, two-note whistle - whistling being a largely forgotten way of calling the spirits. When he completed the circle, he stood facing the crowd and, in a strong voice which carried to those of us stood at the back, began to speak:

"Spirits of this place - spirits of land, of sky, spirits of sea, of cliff face and tree - spirits of this place, be our witness. Hear our hearts. Hear their quiet murmurs. On this day, at this time of the year, we stand on a cliff edge, on a precipice, looking into the dark..."

We were reminded that it is not just our ancestors who ask us to remember; so too do "the wise women, the witches, the cunning men, the keepers of the old ways" and the wild old gods of the land. We are called to acknowledge and remember not only our human ancestors but also our fellow creatures, "our wild cousins, our cousins who fly, our cousins who crawl, who are dying in their droves... those species who have breathed their last breath... and those who will not make it through this winter...". We were invited to make a simple ceremony of remembrance - whispering the name of a lost loved one, followed by the words "Ancestor, I honour you."

The speaker finished his moving address with a final few rousing cries of "Ancestors, we honour you!" and threw back his head in a ululation. The spell of silence was broken for a moment as many joined in with a cry or cheer, and then another spell was woven as the drumming and chanting began: "In my blood, in my bones, I hear your voice, I hear your call. Ancestors dance with me, ancestors chant with me, I hear your voice, I hear your call..."

That drumming and singing, pulsating and hypnotic, could have carried on for a long time, but after maybe five minutes someone managed to bring it to a close and the MC announced Beltane back into the circle for their Fire Dance. Each year they have a special guest stand in the middle of the circle during the dance; this time it was two young men who run an occult shop in New Orleans and had travelled all the way over here just for the Dark Gathering! Very cool. As was the dance.

Beltane rounded up the evening with a final dance called "Haccombe to Death" - in which they actually held aloft flaming torches, which was awesome - and then lined up to sing "Leave Her, Johnny", a sea shanty sung by crews prior to leaving a ship at the end of a voyage.

And that was it. Everyone dispersed, going indoors to get warm and eat. Somehow it felt so much later than 7pm. But the event had been wonderful, enjoyable, moving, meaningful, authentic and real, and I loved it!

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At 9pm, after a very welcome dinner of beef stew, we walked back down one last time to the Museum of Witchcraft & Magic. While there were signs of life spilling out from the pubs and hotels in the main area of the village, the dark and deserted harbour-front was a little disconcerting, the only noise being the rushing waters of the river. But the museum was open till 10pm especially for the Gathering. It was really interesting, albeit - due to the age of the building, the late hour and darkness outside, the low lighting inside, and some of the exhibits/information - a little creepy. I haven't been in there before, so I'm glad I had a chance.

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Weeeeell, I wasn't expecting to write so much about this, haha. Also, in case you were wondering, my memory is not this good. I've only been able to recall and write so much about the evening from reading the event organiser's blog post and looking at the photos and videos on there. If you'd like to see what some of it was like, someone put together a great video of the second half: https://youtu.be/4h7m-Ded1_g. It's long, but here are the start times for specific clips in the video if you want to look at any in particular:

• Procession: starts at the beginning
• Penkevyll, her Teazers, and the Mari Lwyds: starts at 05:00
• Pwnco Ceremony: starts at 06:20
• Stone Soup storytelling: starts at 08:15
• The Darkest Ooser: starts at 12:35 (skip to 14:55 to get a good close-up)
• Traveller's Prayer: starts at 15:40
• Calling the ancestors: starts at 17:15
• Ancestors chant: starts at 24:40
• Fire Dance: starts at 28:50
• Haccombe: starts at 33:20
• Leave Her Johnny: starts at 35:55

Alternatively, scroll through the two blog posts on the event website to see some good photos:
https://allhallowsgathering.com/2019/11/10/dark-gathering-2019-part-one/
https://allhallowsgathering.com/2019/11/18/dark-gathering-2019-part-two/

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The Dark Gathering was a brilliant way to end my trip down to Kernow. On the Sunday morning I was on a train again, homeward bound.

"Then, Autumn, work thy witchery!"

October 31st. Halloween. All Hallow's Eve. For me, it's Samhain - one of four Gaelic seasonal festivals adopted by many neo-pagans, traditionally marking the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the darkest part of the year. The word is Gaelic and is pronounced in a few slightly different ways depending on the region, but I say it "sow-en" (sow as in female pig, not sow as in seeds).

With autumn well underway, people had to take stock of what they had to last them through the winter. Animals were brought in from pasture, and any they felt wouldn't make it to the spring, or any they wouldn't be able to feed, were killed and the meat salted. All crops except perhaps some hardy winter vegetables would have been harvested and eaten or preserved by this time. So for many it may have been the last chance to eat many fresh foods, particularly meat, until the spring. In the Celtic calendar, where each day began at sunset, Samhain was the end of the old year and the start of the new - just as life starts in darkness, so did their days, and their years. It's also considered to be a liminal time when the veil between worlds is thinnest, a time when spirits can roam, a time for remembering and honouring the ones who came before us. The time when the Goddess dons her robes as Crone and the Horned God begins the Wild Hunt.

I've never really been into the general, more commercialised, Halloween. I like some aspects, more to do with the emphasised autumn-ness, and bats, black cats, ravens, and an air of mystery and magic. But I don't like horror or creepy things, don't think I ever went to a party, and only remember going trick-or-treating once, and went home after about ten minutes - not my thing. (If you look at the Wikipedia page for trick-or-treating, it gives an interesting variety of possible origins to and history of the custom.) As a more seasonal, nature-based, folk-tradition festival, I love Samhain. Having said that, I don't really do anything to celebrate. I've been to events a few times, I love to do that when I get a chance. The one held each year at Butser Ancient Farm is good, very much my kind of thing - after dark at a reconstructed Iron Age farm in the middle of the countryside, sitting on log benches around the hearth fire in the beautiful main roundhouse, listening to folk music and storytelling, loving the smell of woodsmoke, munching on a burger or hot dog outside afterwards. And last week I visited a friend in Cornwall and we went to the annual All Hallow's Dark Gathering in Boscastle, home of the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic - there was storytelling, Morris dancing, a lantern parade, Mari Lwyds and Osses and a Pwnco Ceremony (look them up), a really cool fire dance (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-eBpZVQrEQ), and a 9pm wander round the dimly-lit and atmospheric but interesting museum (with a warning to not look into any of the mirrors...).

Anyway... as I said, I love events like that when I can get to them, but generally all I do is light a couple of candles and watch one of my favourite films - Practical Magic. It's become a tradition for me, and I only ever watch it once a year, on October 31st or as close to that date as possible. For years I've wanted to do something more, to expand on that tradition and make Samhain a bit more of a little seasonal celebration, but have never got around to planning anything. Next year, I'd love to cook some nice autumnal comfort food for dinner, like a vegetable stew with dumplings, or soup with fresh crusty bread, and bake a pumpkin pie. It'd be nice to get out some photos of relatives who have died, and spend a bit of time remembering them in some way. I also like the idea of finding stories of other people from the past, and sharing them, so that they're remembered again for a little while. Maybe I'll collect some natural fallen items to bring inside for a few days as decorations - pine cones, acorns, apples, leaves or foliage. I should also watch more than one seasonal film, more than just Practical Magic, there are many I haven't seen in years. And read some Halloween-y poems (the title of this post is from Incantation by George Parsons Lathrop). Ooh, and maybe I'll make myself a Samhain playlist on Spotify - the Ghostbusters theme song, Loreena McKennitt's "All Soul's Night", Show of Hands' "Hallow's Eve", Damh the Bard's "Samhain Eve", and awesome Omnia's "Wytches' Brew", "The Raven", and "Wylde Hunt".

Side note. Halloween has become a huge commercial holiday, and, like all of them, is extremely, awfully, wasteful - roughly seven million costumes end up in landfill each year, as do around 18,000 tonnes of carved but uneaten pumpkins. It's part of a wider, systemic waste problem, but that's just not okay, is it? In doing a quick search for having a more eco-friendly Halloween, I've just come across the charity Hubbub, which works to get mainstream consumers interested in sustainability issues. Here are some of their ideas to make the time of oranges and purples and blacks, a little greener:

• Costumes and decorations - Rewear/reuse or upcycle old ones, swap with others, buy second-hand, see if you can rent one, or make your own: https://www.hubbub.org.uk/diy-halloween-costume
• Pumpkins - Remind yourself and teach any children in your life that these are vegetables. Use the flesh inside to cook or bake something, and roast the seeds for a snack or use them for birdfeed; for recipes visit https://www.hubbub.org.uk/Pages/Category/recipes and select Halloween. After the carved pumpkin has been used and if you have a garden or allotment, put it in the compost, or chop it up and bury the pieces in the soil so it breaks down, or leave it on a shed roof or a table for the squirrels and birds to benefit from. DO NOT leave it on the ground or dump it in the woods - pumpkin can make hedgehogs very ill, at a time when they need to be storing nutrients and gaining weight for hibernation. If you don't have a garden or allotment and your council doesn't take food waste, maybe see if a friend or neighbour or a relative who does would be willing to take it.
• Not Hubbub, but some more zero-waste ideas, including a good one for a costume! https://www.pawsandpines.com/zero-waste-halloween/

In our modern world, it's very difficult to relate to the lives our ancestors would have led. We may notice that the days are colder, the leaves are changing colour and falling off the trees, and it's dark by the time we leave work (you know you're British when you and everyone around you comments on this every single year as if it's new and surprising) - but many of us spend most of our time indoors, surrounded by concrete and artificial lights, don't grow our own food, can have warm homes and hot water at the touch of a button, and can have pretty much any type of food at any time of year. There are some good and valuable things there, we have gained a lot - but we have also lost a lot. We no longer have the deep, ingrained knowledge and understanding and appreciation of, and connection to, the natural world, the land, the seasons, the ways of animals, that our ancestors had. We have forgotten much, and take a lot for granted.

Our ancestors' lives and activities would have varied with the rhythm of the seasons, whereas nowadays we do the same thing all year round at the same fast pace. We're not built for this, our bodies haven't had time to evolve with our technological advances. This is a time of year when the Earth's energies are pulled inwards, life hibernates, waiting for the return of spring, and it's a good time for us, too, to look inwards, at ourselves; look back at the year we've had, think about what we've learned and how we can use that knowledge in the future. It's a time for introspection, slowing down, pausing, resting, recovering. It's not too long to wait until the winter solstice, when the light starts to return.