My first Lidwell Chapel blog post was from the summer of 2018, and you can still view it here. I remember writing that I hoped to return and photograph it in a different season, ideally with lots of mist. That post is one of the most visited on my website, so I’ve delayed this subsequent piece for long enough. I did make a winter visit in the middle of December 2021, and then had a blog piece written (almost) for around a year after. I didn’t publish it because I was also trying to flesh out my plan to simultaneously publish a small book or zine on Lidwell Chapel. I re-wrote several times with that in mind, but at the turn of the new year in 2023 I felt I really ought to visit the chapel again, in a second winter, in case anything had changed. I haven’t written any more about the history, location and legends of Lidwell Chapel, because it’s all covered in my original summer piece.
December 2021
When I did finally return there was no mist, but the cold blue light of early morning could hardly be more different from my summer visits. I wondered if there was even enough light for my camera (no tripod, I hate tripods), as I made my way through the long damp grass.
The walk seemed shorter than I remember from all my previous visits, and the light somehow more appropriate to the place. I was soon greeted by the trees that entice a walker to the stile that leads to the field down to the chapel grounds.
The trees were almost bare compared with their appearance in the summer, and I could see the outline of the chapel several minutes before arriving in the grounds. When I walked through the gate, the chapel itself seemed a little different. There was distance between the building and the trees, where previously the growth was so rampant they all seemed one and the same.
I was wearing Muck boots, which coped much better with the saturated paths than my old walking boots. I walked right around the grounds for the first time, where the curious two-dimensionality of the single remaining chapel wall was striking – I’d never appreciated this aspect before.
The back of the chapel is always the darkest place. The confined space and dark stones easily conjure thoughts of the legends surrounding these grounds.
I didn’t have much time to spend in the grounds themselves, but enjoyed this new slant on the chapel, even without the mist I’d hoped for. The place still has a menace to it; I think it always will.
Outside the grounds, the unmistakable shape of the chapel was identifiable in a way that is not possible in the summer, and the trees close by in their sparse winter clothes looked fabulous. Earlier I felt the branches were almost creeping around me, but now they seemed to be dancing.
February 2023
A further fourteen months passed after that first winter visit and still there was no finished blog post and no zine, but lots of attempts at both. I knew I had to visit again, and I knew I’d been putting it off. But in February I had one of those early morning moments where I decided to ignore the ifs and buts in my head, and simply grabbed the camera bag, Muck boots and car keys, and set off to Little Haldon in brilliant sunshine. There was some frost on the ground, but it was a delicious morning for a walk and I set off down the familiar slope to the little wood above the chapel grounds.
On the edge of the wood it was easy to see the path of the (currently dry) stream that once filled the old well: something that’s barely visible in the summer, but actually rather difficult to satisfactorily frame in a photograph.
I entered the grounds of the chapel and the path was as wet as always, despite some frost on the hills. The chapel wall was overwhelmed – for now – by ivy and brambles and dwarfed by the surrounding trees, but still as menacing as always.
Half way along the path I heard a sudden loud <clank> sound, like a heavy gate latch closing, ending with an almost theatrical resounding note. I had no idea where it had come from but I suspected it was somewhere near the small wood above. I continued walking and heard the same sound once more. Perhaps someone else was walking down to the chapel. I reminded myself that the stile in the wood I usually use was broken and I’d had to gain access by lifting the heavy farm gate instead. But there was no latch on that gate, only a length of thick rope. I was a bit troubled by this, and didn’t stay too much longer; even the stark light and bright blue sky didn’t reassure me when no-one else came down the hill.
I left the grounds and walked back to the wood, examining the farm gate once more – definitely no latch. The sun was still quite low in the sky and there were long tree shadows everywhere. They pointed to my route away from the wood. I was convinced they were telling me it was time to go home.
Thanks for reading. I hope you will be interested to hear that…
My Lidwell Chapel zine is finally finished and I’ve now received printed copies!
Lidwell Chapel: Images from Two Seasons is an A5 staple-bound paperback. It has 40 pages (including the covers) in landscape format, some brief text summarising my visits over the last few years, and an account of the most famous legend regarding the monk Robert de Middlecote. There are 26 of my photographs (including the covers) and a basic map showing the chapel’s location. Please note that I have opted to have the zine printed on uncoated paper, which has a lovely soft, tactile surface and slightly muted, understated colours and contrast. I tried a test print of the full zine on high contrast silk paper, with richer colours and a slight sheen, but after careful consideration went for subtlety instead.
I haven’t had many printed at this stage, and as an incentive to buy early, the first 20 people to order will also receive a free A5 print of the image below. This will be printed by myself on some gorgeous Marrutt smooth fine art paper, just like this one:
I hope you will consider ordering the zine. It will cost £7 and postage on top of that will be a further £2 in the UK. To order please visit my Etsy page here. I don’t know how popular this offer is likely to be, but the free print will be included on a first come first served basis. If it’s successful I fully intend for there to be further zines in future – blog based and otherwise.
Almost finally – I realise I still haven’t visited the chapel in the mist. Which means, of course, I will have to go back!
Finally, finally – I hope you’ll be interested to read my new blog piece, uploaded early November 2023 about finding Robert de Middlecote’s first chapel, Chapel La Wallen, in Gidleigh, Dartmoor. Finding it really completed the circle of my interest in the legend, and you can read the blog piece here.
Terry Hurt Photography 
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