Walking into Wharram Percy deserted medieval village
- mark McAlpine
- Oct 10
- 5 min read
There’s something uniquely peaceful about hiking through the English countryside on a late-summer’s day, the low golden light, the soft hum of insects, the distant bleat of sheep. It was under such a sky that I set out for Wharram Percy, a deserted medieval village in the Yorkshire Wolds, determined to walk its tracks, sense its stories, and share a journey through time.
I drove through rolling chalk hills and narrow lanes, eventually arriving at the small car park off the B1248. From there, a steep but lovely path leads you down into Deep Dale, where the valley folds in around you and the remains of Wharram Percy begin to emerge. On that gentle descent I felt the air shift, from the everyday to something more ancient, more quiet.
Watch the day’s adventure on my channel: Walking Through Yorkshire’s Haunted Lost Village (Wharram Percy)
The Countryside Walk & Encounters
Walking down into Deep Dale, the countryside was framed by gentle slopes, flinty grass, and hedgerows heavy with blackberries and late summer blooms. Sunlight slanted across the valley, casting long shadows. It felt like stepping into a painting, peaceful and contemplative, yet full of hidden layers.
Along the path I met a few walkers and locals, all warm and curious. One elderly couple paused to ask if I was filming, and shared how they sometimes walk here to “hear the past in the stones.” A family with a well-behaved dog waved as they passed. These small kindnesses reminded me that Wharram Percy is not entirely dead, its spirit lives in those who still tread its paths.
These chance meetings added a human note to the ruins. In a place defined by absence and memory, hearing someone say, “I come here to think,” made everything feel more alive.
The Ruined Church of St Martin
At the heart of Wharram Percy stands the ruin of St Martin’s Church, the most visible reminder that people once gathered here. Its walls are crumbling, the roof long gone, and the tower collapsed in the mid-20th century, yet its silhouette still commands the valley.
Archaeological work has shown that the church underwent several phases. Beneath the medieval stones lie traces of an earlier Saxon or perhaps Viking-era timber church, later replaced by a small stone building around the 10th or 11th century, before being expanded and altered through the 12th to 17th centuries.
Inside the ruins, I walked slowly among gravestones worn by centuries of weather. Some mark burials from the 18th and 19th centuries, but the ground conceals far older stories, skeletons unearthed by archaeologists revealed lives marked by disease, malnutrition, trauma, and eventual decline.
While setting up the drone to capture the scale of the ruins, I fell into conversation with a couple who had stopped to watch. They were curious about the equipment and even more curious about the site itself, sharing their own impressions of how peaceful and haunting it felt here. It was one of those small, genuine exchanges that add warmth to a solitary day of filming. Ironically, I later discovered that I hadn’t pressed record at all on the drone, instead of sweeping video I had only taken a single still image. A reminder that even when the technology fails, the human connections are often the best part of the journey.
The quiet here feels thick. Standing in the shell of St Martin’s, I found myself reflecting: How many people prayed here? How many left and never returned? How many people will be standing where I have stood in a few hundred years and ask the same questions of us?
Houses, Crofts, Earthworks
Beyond the church, the grassy terraces of Wharram Percy reveal the footprints of village life: house platforms and enclosed garden plots laid out in ordered rows. The layout is quite clear even now: two facing rows of dwellings, aligned with a sunken track forming the main thoroughfare.
Excavations between 1950 and 1990 revealed dozens of peasant houses, outbuildings, and two successive manor houses. The village is often called the best-understood deserted medieval settlement in Britain precisely because of these detailed studies.
Walking among the grassy rises, I tried to imagine the daily life: smoke curling from hearths, animals in byres, children stepping over the boundary walls. Though nothing stands but earth, the pattern is compelling.
Why Did the People Leave?
Wharram Percy was occupied continuously for around 600 years, probably founded in the 9th or 10th century. It flourished through the 12th and 14th centuries but by the 15th century its population began to shrink.
The reasons are multiple and debated:
The shift in agriculture: wool and sheep farming became more profitable than cereal farming. Landowners increasingly converted arable plots to pasture, reducing the need for tenant farmers.
Demographic decline: though the Black Death struck in the mid-14th century, it may not have directly caused the abandonment here, but the wider depopulation certainly added pressure.
Evictions: by the early 1500s, the last families were forcibly removed, their homes destroyed to make way for pasture.
One legal record from 1517 even references proceedings taken against the landlord for expelling the remaining residents. The land then lay empty, though the church remained in occasional use until well into the 20th century.
Wharram Percy’s case is especially clear because the site was never overlain by later development, the valley remained quiet, allowing the earthworks to survive and be studied in depth.
The Mill Pond, Orchard & Hidden Details
One feature I paused by was the gentle slope down to what remains of a mill pond. In its heyday, the pond would have powered a mill, a crucial part of village life. The pond was later restored in the 18th century, though the mill no longer functions.
Nearby, I noticed wild apple trees and orchards, a reminder that even in medieval times, the villagers would have grown fruit, kept small gardens, and supplemented their diets with what they could harvest.
Each of these small features, the pond, orchard, walls, invites pause. I lingered, recording ambient audio, letting the wind and distant birdcalls become part of the narrative.
Reflections on Walking Wharram Percy deserted medieval village
As I walked back up the valley toward the car park, the light softened. Shadows stretched across the terraces, and the silence felt holy. I thought of all the hands that toiled here, the stories lost, and yet how alive it all still feels, via earth, memory, and imagination.
Meeting people along the way, hearing their own small connections to Wharram Percy, reminded me that ruins don’t isolate, they invite us to join in remembering.
Practical Tips for Visiting
Wharram Percy lies along the Yorkshire Wolds Way footpath, making it accessible to walkers of many abilities.
Only the church ruin is prominent above ground, but the outlines of over 30 medieval houses and crofts can still be traced across the fields.
The site is cared for as a scheduled monument, giving it protection and allowing public access.
The terrain is uneven, slopes can be steep, and be prepared for mud or grass paths.
Bring good shoes, water, and a camera, but also a quiet heart.
If you’d like to experience Wharram Percy as I did, walking the paths, exploring the ruins, and hearing more of the story, you can watch the full video now on my Travelling Mac YouTube channel - Walking Through Yorkshire’s Haunted Lost Village (Wharram Percy)
or watch it below
Its released on the 10th October 25 at 1700 GMT.
Make sure you subscribe there for more great adventures.
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