Many years ago, a woman named Mary, had a husband who was a local fisherman. He went to sea one afternoon and never returned. Mary, in her grief, walked along the cliff top every evening at about 9 o’clock, hoping against hope that one day she would again see the sails of his boat on the horizon. Alas it was never to be and the poor woman finally went mad with grief and walked down the gully, which still bears her name, into the sea, to join her husband.
Although much of the gully has been washed away by the sea, some say that on dark nights the outline of Crazy Mary call still be seen on the cliff path, wailing in despair for the loved one who will never return. World War I saw a sentry posted at the old gully mouth, for it was an obvious landing place for the enemy, but rumour has it that they refused to stand guard alone because of a ghostly presence. Similar stories persisted in World War II; was Mary still keeping her lonely and hopeless vigil? Chances are that she was, and probably still is; for, late one night, in 1981, a Pontin’s employee saw a solitary figure of a woman close to the lighthouse. As he approached, the figure faded and disappeared…
A John Barcroft old poem:
Ah, mournful hollow, moaning sea,
we men, whose fancies vary.
Like shifting sands
what right have we
to speak of Crazy Mary?