The Dregpike
Ullswater, Cumbria 1400s onwards?
“One by one, they were pulled beneath the water by something powerful. The water turned red with their blood. Nine hounds died in a few minutes.” Max Newsom
I came across the dregpike, Cumbria’s own Cryptid, whilst illustrating the Cumbrian Folklore Map in our Folklore Map Collection (shameless plug). Obviously, I was fascinated. I am the queen of the Crytpids. And, whew, is this Cryptid quite the specimen.
Back in 1920, at the start of the River Eamont, just as the water escapes the lake, a hunting group had caught scent of a stag and began to pursue. Supposedly, the stag had plunged itself into the River Eamont and was wading towards the northern bank when the hunting hounds picked up the scent. Bounding over, the party saw the hounds get dragged under the water, one by one, until all the hounds were dead and the water ran red. Nine whole hounds were taken out in seconds.
A photograph, supposedly taken at the scene of the tragic event, was captured showing men fleeing for their lives from a creature that emerged from the depths after the slaughter of the hunting hounds…
Now, what the HECK is THAT! The photograph was deemed a fake, with the idea of a perfectly tripoded camera being right at the scene of the men fleeing back in the 1920s being almost an impossibility. But despite the validity of the photograph, there is no doubt that those 9 dogs did perish.
In 1496, Julia Berners (a prioress of Sopwell Nunnery, near St Albans) wrote a very interesting addition to A Treatyse of Fysshing with an Angle, the first known study of fly-fishing in Britain. Berners reported that 34 men, 10 women and 16 children had been killed by a huge, pike-headed fish known locally as the ‘dregpike’. She described it as being three-times the length of a man, with a lush mane of black hair, bright green in colour and capable of standing on horse-like hind-legs. Now, THAT, is what I call a beautiful example of a Cryptid.
Another story of the dregpike involves three farmers, who were unable to prevent a large dray horse from being dragged down into a Cumbria river by a large fish, similarly to the hunting hounds. Supposedly drunk whilst at work, some have dismissed this account from the farmers. But it is curious that horses typically know how to swim, so even if they did lose a horse in a river, you’d think it would just swim itself out…
Another account, from 1751, stated that Joseph Buxton, at Halfpenny in Kendal, was shepherding his flock across the ford when two local lads reported seeing Buxton's sheep being viciously attacked by a large, pike-looking fish creature, which Buxton then attempted to beat off with his shepherd's crook. Not taking any of that nonsense, the fish rose from the water on horse-like hind legs and snapped Buxton up into its jaws, tossing him into the water and taking off again with another of his sheep.
In July 1815, another report of the dregpike involved a Waterloo celebration that a group of farm labourers travelled to, by crossing the River Lune at Kirkby Lonsdale on a cart. One of the workers (was he drunk? Was he clumsy?) fell into the river. Witnesses saw a huge, scaley, green fish with black horsehair trailing behind the cart, which then gripped the drowning man and hauled him downstream.
The reports kept on coming. In 1857, Jane Boxall, a maid at the Derwentwater Hotel, supposedly headed out to the the lakeshore with intent to end her life. A male co-worker followed her to the lakeside and watched as she entered the water fully clothed, but just before he could go get help, he saw the head of a huge pike erupt from the water and take Jane under.
On the anniversary of Jane being taken, a reverend entered the water at the place where she had been snatched. Convinced it was the work of the Devil, onlookers watched as he searched the water. According to newspaper reports, the reverend opened his bible to commence his exorcism of the ‘satanic presence’ in the water… when he was suddenly violently snatched and sank beneath the water's surface. He was dragged from the water by several men but never regained consciousness.
If, indeed, one fish is responsible for all this misery and death, I think it has firmly earned it’s place in Cryptozoology. And this story is a great reminder to stay far away from deep water!
