Posted on 08/28/2006 8:16:53 AM PDT by Marius3188
STARING into the terrifying thunderous tumult of the Corryvreckan whirlpool, it's easy to see why its sheer primal energy has fascinated people for centuries.
Now Edinburgh folklorist Stuart McHardy has suggested a startling new theory - that the awe-inspiring natural vortex between the islands of Scarba and Jura in Argyll and Bute was the true origin of the Holy Grail.
At its wildest, some say the whirlpool forms a spectacular swirling cauldron 300 feet wide and 100 feet deep. The cause is hidden beneath the waves – a giant rock pinnacle rising from the depths to within 95 feet of the surface. Water on the seabed is forced upwards when it hits the submerged rock, causing huge waves. The noise can keep the neighbours awake up to 20 miles away.
McHardy believes that the Corryvreckan was, for pre-Christian Picts, a "Mother Goddess" - the Mother of All Fertility Symbols.
"These ancient pagan tribes saw the whirlpool as a giant cauldron - or Grail - of rebirth," he says. "They believed it was the womb of all creation and could even awaken dead warriors. It was literally their Holy Grail."
In his new book On the Trail of the Holy Grail, McHardy writes that incoming Christian monks tried to erase all trace of this ancient way of thinking. They rewrote what they saw as dangerous pagan beliefs, downplaying the regenerative power of femininity, promoting the idea of a single, male God and disguised the religious significance of the whirlpool.
The final blow to the Old Religion is thought to have come from the legendary warrior Arthur, the hammer of the Picts.
Historian of the Clan Arthur, Hugh McArthur, believes a 10th century Welsh poem contains cryptic clues that reveal the Corryvreckan's central role in early stories about the Holy Grail. Preiddeu Annwnf (The Spoils of Annwn) describes how King Arthur and three boatloads of warriors sail to the Welsh Otherworld to steal a magical "cauldron of inspiration". Arthur's boats pass through the "gates of Hell" to Caer Sidi (the Fortress of the Fairies) but only seven of his force survive.
McArthur writes: "It is this successful but costly raid on the most unassailable fortress in Britain that made Arthur the living legend that he is today. Arthur overcame the challenge, he sailed over the dragon (whirlpool) to Hell's gate, assailed the mountain, slaughtered the pagans and returned triumphant with the hallowed pagan treasures, leaving an ancient religion reeling from a fatal blow."
The "fairies", McArthur suggests, were probably nothing more than the small, painted Pictish warriors who were early settlers on Scarba. In Welsh, "d" sounds "th", making Sidi similar to the Scottish Gaelic sìth (fairies). Intriguingly, maps do show a Blàr nan Sìth (Battlefield of the Fairies) on Scarba's north-east coast.
Even more interestingly, Admiralty charts show that just to the east of the whirlpool the seabed drops away sharply, descending to a narrow pit nearly 700 feet deep. Locals have long known this as "Hell's gate". Horror tales abound of sailors being swept away, sucked under and then forced down into the murky depths by the fast flowing undersea currents.
The eighth-century Welsh monk Nennius, in The History of the Britons, wrote that King Arthur's eighth battle took place at castello Guinnion where the hero carried the image of the Virgin Mary on his shield. Scholars have long been unable to agree on a real-life location for Guinnion, but it could be from an Old Welsh word meaning holy ones. Castello Guinnion would then translate as fortress of the holy ones.
Certainly, if the Picts had sacred treasures to protect, it would have made sense to secure them in the safest spot they could find. The whirlpool provides a formidable natural defence. Perhaps the most sacred site of the Old Religion was a temple for priests or priestesses, protected by the Whirling Goddess?
Three hundred yards north of the Corryvreckan is Camas nam Bàirneach, a small bay. A few caves nestle in the cliffs high above. This tiny patch of white sand provides the only landing spot on the rugged south-west coast. At the base of the cliff, on a narrow ledge is an abandoned settlement: five square or rectangular buildings obscured by overgrown heather. With no land nearby for growing crops or raising animals, it could not have been a permanent settlement and was probably a seasonal site for people hunting birds, long an important part of islanders' diets.
Stuart McHardy thinks he has discovered the true purpose of this place:
"In the distant past this may have been the site of a temple supplied by boat. Only an in-depth archaeological excavation would reveal the truth, and I'm looking into the possibility of that being done. Perhaps we can find out more about how our far-off ancestors saw their world and hopefully learn from them."
If McHardy's theory is correct, the Holy Grail grew from a truly ancient physical source located in Scotland – a source as dynamic and awesome today as it was in prehistory when humans first encountered it. Centuries of myth-making transformed the Grail into a mystical chalice signifying many things – fertility, enlightenment, religious understanding, but always a quest in which the search is as important as the result.
Was the Corryvreckan the inspiration for Poe's "Descent into the Maelstrom?"
No you can't, it's too perilous!
Can't I have just a little peril?
I think it less likely that this whirlpool is the grail, than, say, the inspiration behind a constant part of the Arthur legend. Specifically, the part wherein strange women lying in ponds distributing swords are the basis for a system of government.
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Paging Dr. Jones, Dr. Indiana Jones!
Yeah, it sounds like a steamin' pile to me.
One of the earlier writings that mentions Arthur, and the Cauldron:
The Spoils of Annwn
I will praise the Lord, the Sovereign, the King of the land,
who has extended his rule over the strand of the world.
Well equipped was the prison of Gwair in Caer Siddi
according to the story of Pwyll and Pryderi.
None before him went to it,
to the heavy blue chain’ it was faithful servant whom it restrained,
and before the spoils of Annwn sadly he sang.
And until Judgement Day our bardic song will last.
Three shiploads of Prydwen we went to it;
except for seven, none returned from Caer Siddi.
I am honored in praise, song is heard
In Caer Pedryfan, four-sided,
my eulogy, from the cauldron it was spoken.
By the breath of nine maidens it was kindled.
The cauldron of the Head of Annwn, what is its custom,
dark about its edge with pearl?
It does not boil a coward’s food; it had not been so destined.
The sword of Lluch Lleawg was raised to it,
and in the hand of Lleminawg it was left.
And before the door of the gate of hell, lanterns burned.
And when we went with Arthur, renowned conflict
except for seven, none returned from Caer Feddwid.
I am honored in praise, song will be heard.
In Caer Pedryfan, island of the strong door,
noon and jet-black are mixed.
Bright wine their drink before their warband.
Three shiploads of Prydwen we went to the sea;
except for seven, non returned from Caer Rigor.
I, lord of learning, do not deserve lowly men.
Beyond Caer Wydr they had not seen Arthur’s valor.
Three score hundred men stood on the wall;
it was difficult to speak with their watchman.
Three shiploads of Prydwen wen went with Arthur;
except for seven, none returned from Caer Goludd.
I do not deserve lowly men, slack their defense.
They do not know what day…,
what hour of the midday God was born,
who…
They do not know the Speckled Ox, thick his headring,
seven score links in his collar.
And when we went with Arthur, disastrous visit,
except for seven, none returned from Caer Fanddwy.
I do not deserve lowly men, slack their attack.
They do not know what day…,
what hour of the midday the lord was born,
what animal they keep, silver its head.
When we went with Arthur, disastrous strife,
except for seven, none returned from Caer Ochren.
Monks crowd together like a choir of whelps
from the battle of lords who will be known.
Is the wind of one path? Is the sea of one water?
Is fire, irresistible tumult, of one spark?
Monks crowd together like a pack of wolves
from the battle of lords who will be known.
They do not know when darkness and dawn separate
or the wind, what is its path, is its onrush,
what does it destroy, what land does it strike?
How many lost saints and how many others?
I will praise the Lord, the Great Prince.
May I not be sad, Christ will endow me.
Last time I checked, she was tending bar in Ten Forward. ;-)
LOL Ya ta ta tomba.
Rats! You beat me to it. :)
By hours, too! :^)
Excellent!
thanks
No! It's unhealthy.
True.
Really? Mind elaborating a bit?
Thank you for your post. Well said.
I always understood that the Holy Grail is the cup Jesus drank from at the last supper.
It's good when they concentrate a little on Wales as the seat of Arthur's kingdom.
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