5 Creepy Lost and Abandoned ‘Ghost Villages’ of the Northwest

Across Lancashire and the rest of the North West, there are many lost and abandoned villages and hamlets that were once home to thriving communities for hundreds of years.

Some of these forgotten settlements were voluntarily abandoned, while others were forced in the name of progress.

Sometimes referred to as “ghost” or “abandoned” villages, these desolate places may still bear the visible remains of buildings and roads, serving as a stark reminder of their past existence. The disappearance of traditional industries that supported these communities is often the cause of their abandonment.

Throughout the region, the construction of reservoirs was another significant factor that led to the disappearance of communities and villages. These cases have often been the most controversial and, historically, painful – with residents witnessing the demolition of their homes, churches and streets – tearing apart traditional close-knit communities.

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Looking back at some of these lost and abandoned villages, we researched why they became the way they are and what happens to them now. The ones listed below are not a complete list, so anything you think we should cover in the future, let us know in the comments.

Mardale Green and Measand

When conditions are right, the remains of a lost village reappear to supply Manchester with water. During spells of extreme heat, the ‘drowned’ village of Mardale Green rises from its watery grave as ‘Atlantis’.

In the 1930s the picturesque Cumbrian villages of Mardale Green and Measand were submerged to create what is now known as Haweswater Reservoir. It was one of the largest reservoirs in England, designed to supplement the water in Thirlmere Reservoir with the intention of supplying Manchester with drinking water for a hundred years.

The controversial construction of Haweswater Dam in the Lake District began in 1929 after Parliament passed an Act allowing Manchester Corporation to build the reservoir to provide water for urban conurbations in the North West of England. At the time, there was public outcry over the decision, as the planned site of the reservoir was populated by the farming villages of Measand and Mardale Green.

In preparation for the flooding of the villages, hundreds of people were forced from their homes, as well as 97 bodies removed and reburied in a cemetery in the nearby village of Shap. The farms and houses of the villages of Mardale and Measand, as well as the beloved Dun Bull Inn, were demolished.

Despite being demolished and submerged by the reservoir in the 1930s, when there is a prolonged period of warm weather, the water level can sink to such an extent that it is possible to walk among its ghostly remains. In times of drought, the remains of Mardale Green, including dry stone walls and an old bridge, can become visible. The last time the village was shown was in July 2022, when a drought hit and the water level dropped.

Derwent and Ashopton

Ladybower Reservoir is a well-known tourist spot for those familiar with the Peak District. The picturesque man-made lake was built in the Upper Derwent Valley between 1935 and 1943 – the largest in Britain at the time.

But building the reservoir came with a heavy price – the bustling villages of Ashopton and neighboring Derwent. Both villages nestled high in the Peak District were lost forever when they were demolished in 1943 and sunk to provide clean water to the East Midlands as part of the Derwent Valley scheme.

The decision, imposed by the Derwent Valley Water Board, was much to the outrage of local residents. Despite their protests, the villagers were moved and resettled in the nearby village of Bamford.

The bodies were exhumed from the cemeteries, a local church held the final service. The buildings that once made up these thriving villages have been reduced to nothing but rubble.

As the dam filled, the crumbling ruins disappeared under millions of gallons of water, never to see the light of day again. All that remained was an intact spire from the church of St John and St James, preserved as a memorial to the villagers of Derwent.

For over a year, it has been out of the water, pretending to be a haunting reminder of what it once was. But when it too was demolished and disappeared under the blue sheet, no memory of the lost villages remained.

That was until heat waves hit the country in 1976, 1989, 1995, 2003 and 2018. Low water levels caused the villages to appear in a rare event, giving visitors a strange glimpse into its past.

During periods of drought, a walk around the village community can still find signs of underwater life, including hut doors, walls, hearths, pump houses and bricks.

Stormy corner

An entire village was wiped off the map to make way for development – but was then left desolate for years. The story of Stormy Corner, a little-known hamlet nine miles west of Wigan, is a sad chapter in the post-war “New Town” era, where huge new estates were built to accommodate families in the crowded towns.

In 1961, the mining village of Skelmersdale in West Lancashire was designated as an “overrun” community for the people of Liverpool. The project would spell the end of Stormy Corner, a rural hamlet on its outskirts that dates back to the 19th century but is remembered by few today.

In its heyday, its cottages were served by shops including Fosters, which sold sweets, Dugdale’s grocers and Drapers, the local co-op. There was a small school which was disused in the 1950s, two pubs, the Beehive and the Seven Stars and, as is typical of an area of ​​West Lancashire influenced by the miners’ migration from Wales, a Methodist church.

Now it’s all gone, with Stanley Industrial Park standing where the village once stood. Demolition began in 1967, the land earmarked for development as this rural area was transformed by the Skelmersdale New Town project.

Writing for the Ormskirk Advertiser in 1969, journalist Clifford Birchall described his desolation after the bulldozers first moved.

“It’s easy to tell which houses are occupied in Stormy Corner. Lace curtains hung at the window distinguish the houses from those that suffered in the death throes of what may be the oldest community in Skelmersdale.”

“Stormy Corner today is being executed, its only crime being that it was too old to keep up with the new town of Skelmersdale. A handful of people live there now, the memories of a crowded mining village all the more real as they are recalled in the Silence of the Twentieth Century.”

Greenbooth

Six decades on, the haunting memories of how the historic village of Norden Greenbooth was submerged under millions of gallons of water are still remembered by those who lived there. It was flooded in the early 1960s after four years of construction to create the last of a series of four reservoirs in the Naden Valley.

Today, Greenbooth Reservoir is an essential part of the beautiful countryside north of Heywood, visited by dog ​​walkers, hikers and nature lovers. The story of how the Heywood and Middleton Water Board’s proposals to flood the Naden Valley in the mid-1950s spelled the death knell for a declining village is still well remembered by a few eyewitnesses of the time.

Greenbooth’s population had been dwindling for decades before the decision to flood was made. A “throwback to the 19th century”, it had been built around the local mill and never had electricity.

The area was known as Green Booth when James Butterworth established a weaving mill there in the 1840s. Fueled by local coal, it produced woolen flannel for clothing manufacturers in the north of England.

Although it seems quaint and bucolic now, the ‘new’ village established by Butterworth – which became known as the single word Greenbooth – was cutting edge for its time. With rows of terraces, a small school and larger houses for the management staff, Butterworth provided accommodation and a community for its workers, with rent and milk money deducted directly from their wages.

However, there was no church or pub in the 19th century village of Greenbooth. And by 1911 he had lost his heart.

Plans to sink the valley it was in were confirmed in 1955, and the village was finally deserted soon after. When it was demolished, 46 houses remained in the village, 20 of which were abandoned.

The reservoir, which measures 40 meters high and 300 meters long was completed in 1963 and officially opened in August 1965.

Watergrove

In the 1920s, to solve Rochdale’s desperate shortage of drinking water, the council decided to build a reservoir by flooding the valley north of Wardle, where the village of Watergrove had existed for almost 700 years.

Until the first half of the 19th century it was a thriving community. Its coal was in high demand as the industrial revolution gathered pace, but it was cotton that really brought people to the village.

Watergrove United Free Methodist Church was built in 1852, and its baptismal register showed 616 births between 1854 and 1933. But during the Depression of the 1920s, the population dropped below 200.

Meanwhile, Rochdale’s drinking water situation was becoming precarious. In 1920 the town bought 300,000 gallons of water a day from Bacup, and during the drought of 1934 Rochdale bought more than a million gallons a day from Oldham.

Parliament approved Rochdale Council’s request to build a reservoir at Watergrove and work began in June 1930. Some villagers were angry at the decision and one wrote in Lancashire dialect to the Chief Engineer at Watergrove saying that people should use more a bit of water.

Today, Watergrove is a popular destination for water sports, horse riding, orienteering and walking and family day trips.