Season 03 Episode 06: Shores of the Unknown (Rerun)

In February nineteen fifty three, a letter was published in the national British newspaper The Times with an extraordinary revelation. The letter, sent by an associate of Ampleforth Abbey in North Yorkshire, gave details of an ancient manuscript that had recently been discovered in the abbey's archives. The text, dating to around twelve ninety CE, described the various mundanities of the lives of the Benedictine monks who were thought to have lived there at the time, all fairly predictable, save

for one startling detail. Whilst preparing food for a feast, it was written that when Henry the Abbot was about to say grace, John, one of the brethren rushed into the hall, claiming to have seen a great portent outside. The monks stepped out together, where moments later they witnessed a large, round, silver thing like a disk, flying slowly above them. It is a story often repeated in the animals of Eupology, up there with Ezekiel's biblical vision of

glowing metal in the sky. It was, of course a hoax, fabricated by two schoolboys of Amplefoth College. As it transpired, there had never been an Ampleforth Abbey as far back as the thirteenth century. In later iterations, to accommodate this minor contrary detail, the story was changed, swapping Amplefoth for the far more ancient and credible location of nearby Biland Abbey. We might say that the mutation of such a story

is evidence of its fictitious origins. And yet, as a species of storytellers, we seem naturally predisposed to adapt our stories in our endless retelling of them, regardless of their fit. Sometimes it is only in small ways, a slight change of detail here or there, but never so much that

we lose the principal truth of it. Other times they can become so reworked, we are left to wonder, much like the Theseus paradox, If any of the original truth remains at all, the stories become unmoored, creating realities all of their own. It is as though the stories themselves are alive, living, organic things to be handled with care, which is why it is all the more compelling, particularly for those tellers of stories of a fourteen persuasion, when

their accounts remain stubbornly resistant to change. You're listening to Unexplained, and I'm Richard mc lean smith. The rain had been pummeling down for hours, though most of the children had not been put off by the torrent, glad for any opportunity to run around outside. Ten year old David Davies had always preferred the comfort of the class room, a place to read and work while the wind rattled the

windows from outside. Aside from the unusually wet weather, it had been a fairly average Friday in broad Haven, the quaint coastal village overlooking the majesty of Saint Bride's Bay on the southwestern edge of Cumery, also known as the Country of Wales. At the local primary school, however, Fridays were always tinged with a certain magic lifted by the

promise of the approaching weekend. It was the perfect day, you might say, for David's friend Philip to concoct the story he was just preparing to tell him as he burst into the classroom full of excitement, Talking wildly, he was barely able to get it all out as David tried his best to keep up. They had seen something at the far end of the playground, he said, some kind of vehicle hovering above the ground. Soon others joined in. Who had seen it too? A ufo, said one. No,

a flying saucer, said another. David listened incredulous as the tale grew bigger and bigger. They had watched it for thirty minutes, they said. One boy had even seen a man in a silver suit with spiked up ears climbing out of it. David laughed it away, and, not being one to believe such nonsense, resolved to expose the prank

at the first opportunity. And so it was that, at roughly three forty five p m. David found himself making his way over the small concreted playground and out into the boggy playing fields beyond to where this apparent ufo had been seen. The playing area comprised of about two acres of land, boarded at the back by a small stream and pockets of woodland, beyond which the surrounding fields

merged into a series of soft rolling hills. With the wind and rain whipping at his face and his feet becoming increasingly sodden, as he approached the perimeter fence, David was beginning to wonder why he'd bothered to make the journey. Stopping at the fence, he stared out into the trees beyond. It was only when he'd placed one leg over the fence that something in an adjacent field caught his attention, and then he saw it. It appeared to be attempting

to exit the woods, but had become stuck. At roughly thirteen meters in length, it was evidently mechanical, but oddly shaped, with a central dome and a red pulsating light on the top of it. Curiously, there was no sound, But what struck David the most was the strange color of it, a swirl of soft but vibrant shades like mother of pearl. For a moment he couldn't take his eyes off it, But as the craft moved back behind the trees, an

urge started to grow in his mind. The urge was run before he knew it, he was already half way back towards the school, running as if his life depended on it. When he returned home that afternoon, David's mother was immediately concerned by his distressed state. Quite unsure who to contact, but convinced of his story, she placed a call to Randall Jones Pew. Pew was a member of the British UFO Research Association and well known in the local area as something of an expert on the subject.

Excited by the proximity of this latest apparent sighting, the amateur investigator drove immediately to the Davies family home in tears Cross to interview David. Not long after, the pair was stood at the edge of broad Head, a school playground, as David took him through exactly what he had seen. However, with the light fading fast and the rain continuing to pelt down, Pugh decided to return the next day to

investigate further. The following morning, Randall returned with local journalist Hugh Turnbull, but found no track marks in the ground or any other evidence of a vehicle, having recently been in the area, until something peculiar caught their eye. A wooden telegraph pole close to the area of the apparent sighting, listing at a forty five degree angle. The mud at its base ripped up from the ground as if it

had only recently been knocked over that weekend. David, along with the thirteen other children who claimed to have witnessed the ct tried their best to come to terms with what they had seen, whilst parents did their best to reassure them that it had all been a figment of their imagination. The school's head teacher, Ralph Llewellyn, had been the first adult to hear about the incident, after being chased down by one excitable pupil shortly after lunchtime on

the Friday. Naturally, believing it to have been some kind of joke, he had assumed it would all blow over by the following Monday. However, when the children returned even more adamant that what they had seen had not been a mere trick of the mind, Llewellyn was forced to think again. Now a little unnerved by their sincerity, he invited all fourteen pupils who claimed to have witnessed the peculiar event under exam conditions to draw for him what

they had seen. Perhaps it was the therapeutic process of putting into pictures what they hadn't quite been able to articulate, or merely the sense that they were finally being taken seriously that brought a sense of calm to the school that morning. But if head teacher Llewellyn was hoping for closure,

he would be sorely disappointed. That afternoon, a strange atmosphere descended on the staff room as one by one the teachers laid out the pictures side by side, despite not knowing that they would be asked to draw what they had seen and having little to no time to confer on the matter. Each of the children's pictures were startlingly similar.

After Hugh Turnbull's article about the apparent incident was published later that day, the town quickly became a center of national attention as journalists and news cameras flocked to the area. Few took the claim seriously, however, seeing as it was after all, based only on the evidence of children, and it wasn't long before the teachers and pupils began to tire of the attention, with interview requests being increasingly declined. The cameras soon left the incident, destined to disappear into

the mists of the strange but true. But all that was about to change. Two weeks later, one broad Haven school teacher, standing in the playground around ten thirty a m. Had just become aware of a peculiar electrical hum when she caught sight of something moving in the distance at the far end of the playground. She would later describe it as being shaped like a saucer, with a slight dome and a silvery metallic surface. It wasn't so much

moving as shimmering behind the trees. Later that day, shortly before lunch, two canteen workers, unaware of the earlier sighting, also saw something in the exact same spot. They watched as it moved up the slope towards the hills before disappearing altogether. As they explained their sighting to head teacher Llewellyn moments later, they also described a figure of what they took to be a man climbing into the vehicle

before it moved away up the hill. Only this wasn't a strange, unidentifiable craft, they thought, but merely an odd looking council vehicle, possibly attacked to the local sewage works. Convinced this was what the children must have seen, the Cooks determined to put an end to the story once and for all, and returned to the location the following morning, hoping to at least find some tire marks in the mud,

but when they got there, they found nothing. The council were contacted soon after to try and shed some light on the mystery, only to confirm that no trucks or any other vehicle had been anywhere near the school in the last two weeks. Although he would not go as far as to confirm the wildest of speculations, the school's head teacher, Ralph Llewellyn, maintained of his young pupils that he did not disbelieve they saw something they had never

seen before. It was certainly a novel series of events for the ordinarily down to earth community, and they were only just beginning. The sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time Pauline set off for the farm house, and with only the finest sliver of a waning moon above, darkness would soon be upon them. Pauline and her husband Billy, an expert dairy farmer, had moved to the area in nineteen seventy four to take over Ripperston Farm, located just

four kilometers to the southwest of broad Haven Village. On that night in March nineteen seventy seven, Pauline was returning in her car from the nearby town Saint Ishmael, with her two twin daughters beside her in the passenger seat and her ten year old son Kieran in the back. They hadn't gone far when kiir Aryan first caught sight of something in the sky moving towards them. Oval shaped with a luminous quality, It appeared to be lit up from below by a soft yellowish light that shone down

to the ground. Pauline watched with alarm as it drew nearer and nearer, until finally it looked as though it might crash right through the windscreen, turning sharply into the next road. Pauline watched with relief as the light flew straight over the car and off into the distance behind. Moments later, Kieran, who had been watching it out the back window, gave a sudden cry. The light had turned

around and headed straight back in the direction of their car. Hurry, mummy, it's getting closer, he shouted, as Pauline switched the lights to full beam and pressed down on the accelerator pedal, trying to keep the car steady as they sped down the narrow country roads. After finally pulling into the entrance to the farm, Pauline was convinced she had lost it until scanning the line of trees flanking the road to the right, she saw it again, just above the treetops,

as if it were deliberately keeping pace with the car. Suddenly, the headlights began to flicker and the car's engine sputtered. Pauline banged on the dashboard, but it was to no avail. Moments later, the children screamed as the lights cut out, plunging them into total darkness, followed by the engine completely shutting down. When the car eventually rolled to a stop just short at the farmhouse, Pauline wrenched the crying and terrified children from inside and raced them into the house.

Another son, Clinton, having heard the commotion, arrived just in time to see the strange light flying off toward the coast. Husband Billy, who arrived a few seconds later, had seen nothing. While Pauline recounted what had happened, Billy jumped into the car and turned the key. Headlights flooded the yard as the engine growled into life. Pauline could only look on with confusion. Just five minutes drive from Ripperston Farm lies

the neighboring farm of Lower Broadmoor. Both properties were in fact owned by Josephine and Richard Hewson, who lived and worked at Lower Broadmoor. It was only ten days after the incident with Pauline's car that Josephine awoke one Saturday morning to find something peculiar parked up in a paddock at the back of her house. Staring at it through the bedroom window, Josephine struggled to process the incongruous, bulbous structure with its smooth, metallic surface, Guessing it to be

roughly five meters high and twelve meters wide. She watched it for a few minutes before running off to wake up her sons, but by the time she returned to the window, it had gone wandering into the paddock. Shortly afterwards, it was hard not to feel a little stupid as her sons asked her to explain what she had seen. It was only then that one of them noticed that

their pony was missing. The pony was normally kept fenced off in a small field bordering the paddock and a nearby greenhouse, rarely straying from this side of the field. They found it later that day, wandering about at the edge of the adjoining field half a kilometer away. Three weeks later, shortly before six a m at Ripperston Farm, Billy and Clinton herded sixteen heifers into an outside pen

in preparation for their first milking of the day. Leaving them for a moment, Billy and Clinton headed off to switch on the milking machines, returning only a few minutes later to find that each one of them had vanished. Hurriedly checking the gates, they found them all locked, bolted shut, with even the twine that Billy used to keep them

secure still wrapped around them. Hearing the phone ring in the house a few minutes later, Billy was a mazed to find a worker from Lower Broadmoor Farm on the other end, inquiring as to what Billy's cows were doing there. Almost two kilometers away. The quiet coastal hamlet of Little Haven is situated just another few kilometers north of Lower Broadmoor.

Its pebbled shores and coal seams still visible in the cliff faces, a testament to its previous life as a vibrant hub for local fishing and coal mining industries that had been steadily declining in recent years. When Rosa Granville and her husband took over the running of the local Havenfort hotel in the early nineteen seventies, they were well aware of its associated history, the talk of a mournful woman in white who was said to haunt the building

and near by shoreline. But not being one for superstition, Rosa hadn't given it a second thought until the strange events of that spring in nineteen seventy seven. It was in the early hours of Tuesday, April nineteenth that Rosa finally made her way to bed after a long night of cleaning up after her guests at night. It was Rosa's habit to listen to Spanish music stations on the

radio as she drifted off to sleep. That night, however, her usual station was playing up As she lay in the dark with her husband fast asleep beside her, waiting for the signal to strengthen. A crackle of interference was followed by a sudden burst of static, before the radio finally cut out altogether. It was only then that she became aware of a gentle humming sound. Thinking she must have left the central heating on, she made her way out of the bedroom down the long hallway towards the

fire escape that led out to the boiler house. But as she listened again, it soon became clear that not only was the strange noise nothing like the sound of the boiler but also it wasn't coming from the boiler room. Unable to pinpoint it, she gazed out towards the light bobbing up and down in the distant darkness, assuming it to be coming from one of the ships moored up in the bay. Returning to the bedroom, she was surprised to see a soft blue light leaking through the gap

in her curtains. She quietly made her way to the window and pulled the curtains open. There in the field opposite was a peculiar light, like the cold blue flame of a blowtorch, pulsing on and off. Concerned that someone was breaking into their outhouse, Rosa grabbed a pair of binoculars from the window sill, and stared out into the night. Picking up the light, she saw that it was coming out of an object about two meters wide and oval in shape. Moving the binoculars to inspect the space beyond,

she gasped. Standing between the object and the far side of the field, she could clearly see the outline of what looked like two humanoid figures, but there was something deeply uncanny about their appearance. Not only were they unusually tall, but their limbs seemed oddly distended. Looking closer, she saw they were dressed in what looked like white plastic boilersuits.

She watched as they bent down to inspect something on the ground, before turning to look in her direction, as if having sensed her presence, and where their faces should have been, she saw nothing but a blank and empty space. Rosa continued to watch as they made their way up a short bank that bordered the field before disappearing from view.

After hurriedly switching on the lights and waking her husband with a start, she ushered him over to the window, but when she looked out again, there was nothing but the darkness of the field, with no sign of the figures or the light anywhere. Back at Ripeston, farm, Pauline had barely left the house since her encounter with the

strange light. Though she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that worried her exactly, she couldn't shake the unnerving sense that somebody or something was watching them. Three nights after the events at the haven Fort Hotel, at some time around six twenty pm, Pauline and the family had gathered around the kitchen table to eat when

all the lights simultaneously cut out. As the children nervously huddled together, Pauline and Billy found a torch and lit some candles until power was inexplicably restored twenty minutes later. Thinking little more of it. With the children having gone to bed, Pauline and Billy retired to the living room to watch television. It was past one a m. When Pauline, struggling to stay awake in the armchair, noticed through the window a silvery light flickering from a distant part of

the adjacent field. Not wanting to bother her husband lying on the sofa opposite, conscious of skepticism about the incident with the car, she did her best to ignore it. Twenty minutes later, a sudden burst of interference on the television was followed by a cry from Billy. Pauline turned to find him sitting straight up staring at the window. What the hell is that, he asked, Pauline cried out in terror when she saw it too. Pushed up against the glass was the figure of what she assumed to

be a man, standing at least seven feet tall. He was dressed in a silver all in one suit which covered the entirety of the head, including what seemed like a large square shaped helmet underneath, and in place of a face, a jet black visor. The figure appeared to be lit up from behind, and though it remained stationary, Pauline noticed that the window was rattling. She rushed to grab the children from their beds, leaving Billy to keep watch on the figure that remained staring back into the room.

After securing the children in the living room, Pauline ran to the phone and called the police when she returned shortly after the figure had gone. Terrified by what was happening, Pauline kept the children together while Billy made his way outside to investigate. However, after an extensive search outside the building,

Billy found no sign of the intruder. In the weeks and months that followed, a host of similar sightings were reported up and down the south coast of Wales, including one made by Pauline and Billy's twin daughters a few weeks later. They had been out playing by the cliff tops one morning when they claimed to have sighted the peculiar figure once again walking about the fields, before vanishing

in the long grass. The collective incidents have since become known as the West Wales UFO flap of nineteen seventy seven. Haven Fought Hotel proprietor Rosa Granville was so sufficiently shocked and moved by what she had experienced that she even wrote to her local MP, Nicholas Edwards, demanding that the British Ministry of Defense make an investigation of the area.

Squadron Leader J. A. Cohen of nearby Broady Royal Air Force Base was able only to confirm that whatever had occurred had no connection with operations at the base, though it has been speculated that a number of the sightings of men in silver suits may have been the work

of local practical jokers. Any such sightings were recorded some time after the initial event at broad Haven School of the fourteen children who claim to have witnessed the mysterious craft on that wet and stormy afternoon of February fourth. Not one has changed their story or admitted to perpetrating a hoax of any kind. As David Davies recounted many years after the event, I did see something unexplained that day, and I will stick to that story for the rest

of my life. This episode was written by Richard McClean smith. Unexplained as an Avy Club Productions podcast created by Richard McClain Smith. All other elements of the podcast, including the music, are also produced by me Richard McClean smith Unexplained. The book and audiobook, with stories never before featured on the show, is now available to buy worldwide. You can purchase from Amazon,

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