Hannah Davies & Jack Woods in tandem. Picture: Matt Jopling
THE Ballad Of Blea Wyke began as a five-minute commission for the Green Shoots project at York Theatre Royal in May 2022 that demanded further exploration.
Then came the Scarborough Fair Fringe premiere of the 60-minute version in June 2025.
Now, North Yorkshire slam champion poet, theatre-maker, storyteller and writer Hannah Davies and guitarist Jack Woods’ re-imagining of the selkie myth for a not-too-distant dystopian future on the North Yorkshire coast is shedding its skin anew, playing Rise@Bluebird Bakery, Acomb, and Helmsley Arts Centre, with the backing of York arts organisations Say Owt and Next Door But One.
Hannah, by the way, has been on the move too, leaving Scarborough for Saltburn-by-the-Sea, with a return to York upcoming, but the draw of the sea prevails in The Ballad Of Blea Wyke, where her fascination with the myth of seals transforming into humans by shedding their skin plays out so imaginatively.
The crashing of waves wrapped within an eerie soundscape set the haunting atmosphere in the bar seating at Helmsley Arts Centre, with a door open to the garden beyond, enhancing the sense of direct connection with the natural world (as opposed to using the HAC theatre).
Leather’O musician Woods sits to the side, complementing Davies’s lyrical word-spinning throughout with simpatico acoustic guitar, loop effects and sporadic harmonies.
Davies, in sea green dress, has a magnetic, mellifluous voice and highly original turn of phrase, allied with a grace of presence, that makes her storytelling so compelling in its combination of contemporary insight, timeless mystery and folkloric mythology in her subject matter.
In her too-close-for-comfort near-future, especially prescient in this hottest of summers, there is nothing left to fish, ice cream and buses have long gone, cities are locked down, motorways have closed, Bluetooth and sugar are taxed, the military issues permits and fines, and most people have never seen the sea.
The waters are rising, the shallows are toxic, the East Coast cliffs are crumbling, and the last grey seal is bobbing in the water “like a blubbery shuttlecock”.
In her private school, scholarship student Cerys feels out of place on her 18th birthday, and not only because of her Broad Acres accent that has the other girls calling out “Hey, Yorkshire” as she stands scowling in the canteen queue at the end of term before they “fly off to their air-cons in private jets”.
Cerys, the loner, will instead venture to the place where no-one is allowed to tread: Blea Wyke, the headland located south of Ravenscar, “the Town That Never Was” (on account of Victorian plans to convert the hamlet into a resort to rival Scarborough being abandoned after only 12 houses were built).
Born in a storm and fearless, Cerys is carrying her social worker’s case folder, containing everything about her life, her back story. Looking on from Clifftop Farm, as she wades into the sea, is a tall, wiry, weather-beaten stranger who has patched up a hole in his jacket with Gaffer Tape.
His farm is now a shell, ruined through fire and flood, landslides are commonplace, and yet still he remains, counter to the government scheme to repatriate farming families in towns.
What keeps him there? What draws Cerys to the sea? Davies’s story will hook you in, as all the while the last grey seal looks on and the love story of the farmer and selkie girl is revealed.
Davies’s imagery keeps on delighting, whether describing the selkie’s shod skin as an “oily rind” or “discarded peel” or depicting “girls with fossils for toes” and “eyes like Whitby Jet”. Humour peppers the salty sea tale too, typified by a badge that proclaims “Geology Rocks”.
Nostalgia for lost times, erosion of coast and rural tradition alike, the curse of climate change and lost nature, the need for mystery and magical realism to survive, for love and ultimately hope to prevail, are interwoven into Davies’s mystical yet earthy storytelling drama, replete with poetry and siren song, directed so harmoniously by Em Whitfield Brooks, whose PitchWitches vocal quintet had opened the Helmsley show.
Above all, The Ballad Of Blea Wyke reinforces the joy to be found in sharing stories. As Hannah told CharlesHutchPress: “Stories are embedded into us at the very core. We are all made up of our stories and by telling and sharing them we get to see and understand ourselves in others action, words and deed. Humans need connection and shared experience to thrive and I think stories do that for us all. In such a divided world we need that more than ever.”
How true. If you missed this month’s York and Helmsley performances, put this date in your diary: October 8, Theatre@41, Monkgate, York, 7.30pm. Box office: tickets.41monkgate.co.uk.
