Sneaton Church and the Stones That Tell Stories

My blogger friend Jean, over at A Very Grand Pressigny recently shared her wanderings through some of Brittany's towns and villages. Her posting stirred a memory of my own: a visit last month to Sneaton, a village perched just two miles south of Whitby, where stone, sea, and legend entwine. 

From the churchyard, the view sweeps down to the coast, Whitby Abbey's silhouette as brooding as the myths that cling to its ruins. Sneaton’s church has its own stories to tell. 

The present building, dedicated to St Hilda, is the third to stand on this ground, raised by James Wilson in the 19th century. Yet the place feels far older—as if the layers of prayer, folklore, and memory linger in the very air. 

By happy chance, our visit coincided with the church’s bicentenary. The nave was filled with floral displays and tributes—joyful balloons mingled with tender memorial bouquets. 

Among them, I paused at white lilies dedicated to Frank and Jane Parker and Reginald Perrett—quietly beautiful, touched with reverence. 

But one arrangement drew me close: a tribute for Sally Peacock, with balls of yarn amidst the flowers. What a perfect, personal gesture for someone whose life was twined with craft. I found myself wishing I could have met her, to share stories and laughter over wool and the meditative rhythm of crochet. 

And here rests the font—an immense Norman stone carved in 1108. Astonishingly, when it was removed for the rebuilding, it was left to languish in a garden before Thomas Chapman rescued it and returned it to its rightful place. Its zigzag carvings of Norman artistry, and ammonite spirals echoing the cliffs and fossils of Whitby. 

The ammonites carry the legend of St Hilda herself. Folklore tells how the saint, faced with a land overrun by serpents, turned them into stone with her prayers. The cliffs around Whitby yield their fossil coils as if to prove the tale, serpents forever frozen in time. Even the town’s coat of arms shows these petrified snakes—a reminder of faith interwoven with the land’s geology. 

This striking stained glass window was created by Alan Davis of Lythe to mark the millennium. It celebrates “The Song of Caedmon,” the oldest surviving English poem, born in Whitby Abbey where Caedmon found his voice. The window glows with story and song, a bridge across a thousand years. 

Just down the road is The Wilson Arms. Sadly, the pub wasn’t open when we visited but I took a photo of the times so we can plan it better next time.

I have a feeling we’ll be back at Sneaton soon. Between the sea views, the stories, and the sense of history wrapped up in this little church, it’s a place that lingers with you.