A Night at The Skirrid Mountain Inn
- Dr Iain M Lightfoot
- 24 hours ago
- 8 min read
The Skirrid Mountain Inn, just outside Abergavenny in Wales, is one of those places who's reputation is well known and can be intimidating. One can sense the atmosphere before you step through the door, before you see the stone floors, the dark beams, the old stairwell, or the famous hanging rope, the stories have already done their work! The stories do get into your head and they build an expectation, they create atmosphere before the investigation has even begun.
Perhaps, that is one of the most interesting things about investigating somewhere like the Skirrid. You are not simply walking into a pub at all, you are stepping into a long history, walking into centuries of folklore, fear, reputation, and retelling. My goodness, this Inn has a history!
This was one of our first investigations for Ghosts on Draught: Britain’s Most Haunted Pubs, and in many ways, we could not have picked a more iconic place to begin. The Skirrid is said to date back, in some form, to around the 1100s. Over the centuries it has been described as an ale house, a meeting place, a courtroom, and, according to legend, a place of execution. The infamous “hanging beam” over the staircase is said to have been used to execute prisoners, with stories claiming that more than 180 people met their end there. Whether all of that can be proved is another matter, and that is important.
As paranormal investigators, we have to respect the folklore without blindly accepting every detail as historical fact. Some stories become larger as they pass from person to person and some have their roots deep in a truth. One has to be aware that some may be symbolic or complete invention to fit a narrative? With folklore stories usually come from somewhere, and when a building has carried the same stories for hundreds of years, it deserves to be taken seriously, even when we try to keep asking the same questions.
We arrived with the usual feelings of excitement and professional caution. The weather was unsettled, with rain squalls passing through, temperatures around 13 degrees, and sunset at 21:27. It was not the isolated mountain inn I had perhaps imagined, no, because the Skirrid sits in a small hamlet, with a fairly busy road nearby, neighbouring buildings, a garage.
Still, the building itself is absolutely magnificent. Stone, timber, shadows, and of an age. It has that rare quality where you feel you have stepped out of the modern world and into somewhere that has been waiting for you. Stepping back in time to a different place and you may be surprised at what time had in store for us that night!
The Interview at The Skirrid Mountain Inn
Before the investigation began properly, we spoke to a member of staff who had worked there for around two years and had also known the pub well as a local. Her experiences were interesting precisely because they were not exaggerated. She did not claim to have seen endless apparitions or terrifying nightly manifestations. Instead, she described the sort of subtle activity that often feels more credible: footsteps upstairs when no one should be there, the feeling of someone standing behind you, fleeting shapes at the window, and that unmistakable sense that you are not entirely alone. The most striking account she gave involved the ropes near the bar. She described sitting at the end of the bar as a customer. The front door and back door were shut. There was no obvious draught, no-one had come in, and no-one had gone out. Then the ropes began to swing. Not gently. Not slightly. Dramatically.
"You just hear footsteps upstairs when you know there’s no one there… you feel like somebody’s behind you, or around you, and there’s nobody there."
Her description was chilling because of what it resembled. It looked, in her words, like someone had “just dropped off there.” Like the aftermath of a hanging. That immediately made us think about the difference between an intelligent haunting and a residual one. Was this something aware of the room, the people, the moment? Or was it an emotional replay, an echo of something imprinted into the fabric of the building? A memory in stone, timber, and atmosphere?
That question stayed with me and us.
Another story she shared involved a couple who had taken a photograph from the bottom of the stairs. When they later looked at it, they believed there was someone leaning over at the top, despite there being no-one there when the picture was taken. The staircase, unsurprisingly, became one of the key areas of interest for us.
Then there was the lavender.
Fanny Price is perhaps the Skirrid’s most famous ghostly resident. Often described as a former barmaid or landlady, she is said to make her presence known through the smell of lavender. During the evening, I smelt lavender twice. Once near the bar, and once again when we moved away and then returned to another area. Barry smelt the aroma too, naturally, we tried to debunk it. There were flowers nearby and there was air freshener in the men's toilets nearby. There may have been air currents moving a scent around the room. But the smell did not seem consistent because it appeared, disappeared, and then appeared again. What struck me most was not simply the scent, but the feeling that came with it.
It was just SO CALMING. I mean, almost putting one at ease and feeling sleepy. In fact, it was almost overwhelmingly peaceful. It felt as if the atmosphere softened. There was no fear, no threat, no heaviness. If that was Fanny Price, then she certainly was not a dark presence. She felt gentle, almost reassuring. It reminded me of a similar calming sensation we experienced at the Brushmakers Arms, where again the atmosphere seemed to shift rather than erupt.
Now this brings me to the honest part of the investigation.
The Skirrid did not behave the way I expected it to.
With a reputation as one of the most haunted pubs in Britain, I think I had wound myself up slightly. I had read the stories. I knew the legends and I knew the warnings: not for the faint-hearted, not for those of a nervous disposition. So when we arrived, part of me was expecting bangs, movement, voices, footsteps, doors slamming, perhaps even something more physical. Especially as I had been left marked and scratched at the Queen's Head recently!
But that is not what we got.
The rooms were quiet. Very quiet. The floorboards were so creaky that any movement should have been obvious, but we did not hear unexplained footsteps. We did not get dramatic bangs on request. We did not have doors opening or closing. We did not have equipment going wild in the way people sometimes expect from a famous haunted location.
However, quiet does not mean empty.
For me, the most unusual phenomenon of the night was time.
There were moments where it felt as if time was standing still. I would look at the recorder clock and watch a few seconds pass. Then I would look away, speak, write a note, or move my attention elsewhere. When I looked back, it felt as though almost no time had passed at all and the time had hardly moved at all. I do know how perception works and I do know that when you are waiting, watching, or tired, time can feel distorted, yet this felt different enough to note. It was as though the building slowed us both down, I mentioned this to Barry and he also noticed it.
There was also a strange reluctance in me to move. Not fear exactly, more like a compulsion to stay still. Looking back, I wonder if that affected the way we investigated the stairwell. We both felt energy there when we first arrived. I felt it strongly near the mannequin, almost like walking into a wall of sensation, goose bumps, pressure, that feeling of something present and yet, despite that, we did not conduct a full vigil on the stairwell, why didn't we?
If I could redo one part of the night, that would be it.
I would sit on the staircase, quietly, patiently with no rush and with no expectations. I would just wait and see what the building chose to offer me.
There were other subtle moments too. At one point in the bar area, there was the feeling of being watched. In the bedroom, while lying awake and listening for creaks, groans, bangs, or movement, I had the distinct sensation that someone had sat down on the edge of the bed near my feet. I moved slightly, tested the feeling, and tried not to turn it into more than it was. It may have been nothing. It may have been the mattress settling. It may have been my tired mind interpreting sensation. Yet it was noticeable enough to record.
In the morning, we reviewed some camera footage and saw a couple of orbs. Nothing I would present as definitive evidence. Just enough to log and examine properly. We may also have captured what sounded like a faint scream on EVP, but again, that needs careful review. There was a pub sign outside that squeaked in the wind, and that could easily account for it. This is where analysis really matters. A scream and a squeaking sign can sound very similar in the wrong conditions.
Unknown Creature outside
Of absolute note, was that we also saw something outside near the wooded area that caught my attention. A creature, not looking like anything I could recognise, moved slowly from right to left, appearing almost static in shape, with no obvious flapping of wings. It wasn't a moth, nor a bat or a bird. There was something reflecting light in an unusual way. The fact that we do not immediately know what something is does not make it paranormal. However, again, it was interesting enough to note.
Perhaps this is the Skirrid’s real lesson.
It is easy to arrive at a famous haunted location expecting performance and you want the building to justify its reputation, yes, we wanted the the rope to swing, the footsteps to sound, the judge to speak, Fanny to appear, and the staircase to deliver some terrible reminder of the past. But as we well know, haunted places do not work like that. Sometimes they give you a smell of lavender, a shift in atmosphere, a strange stretch of time, a watched feeling near the bar, a pressure on the stairs, a possible bed movement, and then they fall silent.
Was the Skirrid less active than expected? Yes but was it disappointing? No. Investigations are not entertainment or a request to perform for us. It is patience, listening and asking to be told its stories. Trying to identify the difference between legend, environment, expectation, and genuine anomaly.
Compared with some of our other pub investigations, such as The Queen’s Head at West Chiltington, the Skirrid was quieter. The Queen’s Head gave us bangs, scratches, marks, and a much more direct sense of activity. The Skirrid gave us something subtler: atmosphere, folklore, stillness, and one of the most peaceful scent phenomena I have experienced.
Do I think the Skirrid Mountain Inn is haunted?
Yes, I think there is something there.
I also think the haunting may not be quite what the stories suggest... The darkest tales have grown over time and maybe some of the execution folklore has become more powerful than the evidence behind it.
Would I return?
Absolutely, I I can't wait to return! Next time, I would do it differently. I would spend more time on the staircase. I would sit with the rope, the beam, and the silence. I would watch less for drama and listen more for atmosphere. The Skirrid Mountain Inn wasn't the loudest location, but it made us feel welcomed and time stood still for us for a time, for that we thank you.
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