Isleonians have been fiercely independent from time immemorial, an inbuilt trait going back to seriously ancient times. Back in the primeval forests of those days it was very dangerous for any stranger to wander into the territory of those long-haired diehards.

The lads who came along to set up their iron or bronze age camps were no more sociable either as they occupied the best spots up on Axholme's central ridge.

From their lookouts they kept an eye on the rough tracks below but rarely saw many visitors. Folk had better places to take their holidays.

Now and again some unfortunate, wretched criminal on the run would blunder into this inhospitable place and the sages at the look out posts would smile as they saw the frantic fugitive sink in one of the many treacherous Isle bogs.

After a while it was the turn of the Ancient Britons to try their luck in this wild country.

They did not show themselves a lot as they were a terrible sight to behold but fortunately had not yet invented the mirror.

From his tent on Austerfield Common, the Roman General, Osturius, had his eye on these rough and uncouth lads and weighed up the possibilities of assault.

Looking down his Roman nose he surveyed the dreary wastes and remarked to his troops, 'We're not going into that lot lads. We'll fire it!'

Very soon fires blazed across the landscape from Finningley to Lindholme. Seeing the rapid approach of this wall of flame some of the Brits upped and fled and did not stop until they struck camp in the Cambrian hills.

Here they settled down quite well as the few locals around were just as mad as themselves. The Roman squads struggled through the mixture of ash, ooze and mire, but found nothing worth looting.

They did not dally around in Axholme too long but moved on and settled down on the far more amenable banks of the Humber River.

In no time at all they built up a very civilised community with villas enjoying all the mod cons - even central heating and saunas.

But these Latiners had left Axholme in a right mess and the holes the rapaging Roman firemen had left in the peat had quickly filled with water.

Gradually the situation worsened and great lakes formed all over the area. It had advantages, however, for the Isle folk, and there was soon a roaring trade in dug-out canoes, although it was hard to get the wood.

All these newly formed islets to some extent upset the independent philosophy of the Isleonians, and for some ne'er-do-wells, they were a bit like a Celtic Alcatraz.

There were islands for old folk and some for impossible mother-in-laws. But the westerly Isle of Wroot provided a sun-drenched holiday spot.
Here the dug-out canoes were in great demand to carry tourists from Belshaw landing stage, out by Scawcett Sands and on to Wroot's welcome beaches.

Next week in Part 2 - Enter Plundering Penda