Friday, 18 September 2026

BONES OF THE EARTH: WALKING ANCIENT FOOTSTEPS

ery long ago, the lands beneath my feet were held by the Brigantes—a Celtic confederation who lived, fought, and died on the very soil I walk today. Long before modern borders defined the landscape of Northern Britain, this formidable alliance held sway over vast tracts of rugged moorland, rolling dales, and dense woodland, carving out a life governed by the cycles of nature, ancient traditions, and a fierce, unyielding independence.

​Named after Brigantia—the "High One," goddess of dawn, craft, and sovereignty—they were a sprawling network of clans that mastered mountain and valley alike. To walk their territory now is to tread upon the quiet remnants of their hillforts and sacred springs, standing upon the earth that once sustained a culture deeply connected to the natural world and the spirits of place.

​On Sunday, that is exactly what I set out to do. I’m usually mindful of the land beneath my boots and the ancestral presence lingering in the landscape, so when I saw an organised walk along the Roman Ridge, I signed up without hesitation. The only catch was that it fell the day after returning from our trip to Wales. Ideally, I’d have spent the day resting, but the pull of the land was too strong to miss.
"The mysterious "Roman Ridge" (probably not Roman) ran from Bridgehouses in Sheffield to Swinton and Mexborough. It is thought to be Iron Age, but re-used in Roman and Anglo Saxon Times. It claims to be the longest pre-Roman earthwork in England.

Its purpose (or purposes) is not known but it seems to have been a boundary between The Tribe of the Brigantes and the Romans, and later between the British Kingdom of Elmet and the advancing Anglo Saxon Northumbrians. It is set in an interesting landscape. It is close to Wincobank Fort and Caesar's Camp, in Kimberworth Park, and passes Kimberworth Castle and Mexborough Castle. A Romano- British track running from The Peak district to Pontefract runs behind it on the North West side." 
www.heritageopendays.org.uk

We gathered at quarter past ten on Sunday morning—nine strangers united by a shared curiosity. Magnus came along for the trek, proudly representing the canine contingent as the only dog in attendance. Our guide, Jeremy, modestly described himself as an enthusiast rather than an expert. I’d met him previously when he gave a talk on the history surrounding Thundercliffe Grange, a place we visited two years ago and plan to return to for their next open day. Rather than a rigid guided tour, the walk unfolded as a roaming discussion, with ideas and theories shared freely as we walked.

​We talked of the Brigantes, the immense physical effort involved in constructing the ridge, and the mystery surrounding its ultimate purpose. Was it a defensive rampart, a territorial marker, or perhaps something sacred—a physical boundary separating the known from the unknown? We traced how it cut across the geography, how the Romans likely repurposed it, and how the local Celtic tribes negotiated life alongside an invading empire.

The rig cut through for farming and industry 

​Along the route, we saw where old industrial progress had sliced through the earthwork, only for nature to slowly reclaim the stone and soil. We marveled at sections running right through suburban gardens—what a remarkable thing to have ancient history guarding your back lawn—and watched as the ridge snaked through quiet woodland, hiding in plain sight, unnoticed by the modern world rushing past.

The footpath through Wath Wood
on the top of the rig

The rig as seen from the side

An ancient well (possibly Roman)

​There is a grounding, almost animist power in walking these ancient lines. Beneath the layers of industrial heritage and suburban sprawl, the bones of the old land remain intact. To trace a boundary built by human hands thousands of years ago is to feel a direct line of continuity back to the ancestors who stood on the embankment, watching the horizon, keeping watch over the realm of Brigantia.

The spirit of the Urban Viking—and the occasional absurdity of navigating the modern world—lives on in my webcomic, Northman

You can read the latest chapter here: northman.kirt.me.uk

I’ll be sharing more of my journey and the daily reality of staying grounded in the modern world over on social media. Join in:

2 comments:

  1. Fascinating! What an opportunity to commune with your ancestors! I've heard of the Goddess Brigantia, who shares a couple of attributes with the Goddess Brigid. And I know that "Sovereignty" -- the right to rule by a king or warlord -- usually had to be conferred by a Goddess, reflecting that the tribe/clan would have been organized in a matrilineal fashion. The memory of this old tradition carried on into some of the Arthurian myths, where the Lady of the Lake conferred kingship on Arthur by giving him the sword Excalibur.

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  2. Beautiful! Though I am from the land of The Parisi and we were often at loggerheads with The Brigantes who we considered to be rather coarse and crafty. Recently, I walked on part of The Roman Ridge just north of Greasbrough on my way to Rawmarsh.

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𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊, 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖗.

ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ, ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ʟɪᴠᴇʟʏ ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴅᴇʙᴀᴛᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀʟʟ — ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍꜱᴇʟᴠᴇꜱ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴘ ᴍɪɴᴅ.

ʙᴜᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀɴɴᴇʀꜱ: ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ, ʀᴜᴅᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘᴀᴍ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛʟʏ ᴄᴀꜱᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴠᴇɴꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪɢɴᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.

ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴀ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴇᴍᴏᴊɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴏ — ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ɴᴏᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɴᴄʜᴇꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ.

ɴᴏᴡ, ᴡᴀʀᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ.