The Bull, Highgate: Where Phantom Coaches Still Climb the Hill

On Highgate Hill, where the great road north climbed steeply out of London toward the English heartland, The Bull has served travelers since 1721. For centuries, this coaching inn marked a crucial stopping point—horses exhausted from the grueling climb could be changed, passengers could rest and refresh themselves before continuing their journeys, and those arriving from the north could prepare for their descent into the capital. The coaching trade defined Highgate, and The Bull stood at its heart. But though the coaches stopped running centuries ago, the sounds of their passage have never ceased. On foggy nights, witnesses report the unmistakable sounds of a phantom coach approaching—iron-rimmed wheels on cobblestones, horses’ hooves, the creak of leather and wood—growing louder until a shadowy, translucent carriage materializes briefly before vanishing. The sound of the coachman calling “Whoa!” echoes through the night. Inside the pub, the ghosts of travelers from every era appear in corridors and rooms, looking lost or confused, still searching for beds after journeys that ended centuries ago. The smell of horses and hay permeates areas where stables once stood. Doors open and close admitting invisible guests. The Bull is a haunted waystation on the great north road, where the coaching days never truly ended and the travelers never truly arrived.

The History

The Bull opened in 1721 during the reign of George I, as the Hanoverian era was beginning, London was expanding, and trade was increasing along the road north. Merchants, farmers, and aristocrats all needed places to stop, and The Bull served them all. The location was strategic because Highgate Hill was formidable—the steepest climb out of London, where horses struggled with the grade and loaded coaches barely made it to the summit. Fresh horses were essential, and rested passengers traveled more comfortably, making The Bull’s position at the top of the climb vital to the coaching trade.

The eighteenth and nineteenth centuries represented the golden age of coaching. Mail coaches, stage coaches, private carriages, and commercial wagons all climbed Highgate Hill and stopped at the inns that lined the route. The Bull was one of many establishments serving the endless traffic that flowed between London and the north. When the railways arrived in the mid-nineteenth century, they killed the coaching trade almost overnight. The traffic dried up, coaching inns struggled to survive, and many closed their doors forever. The Bull adapted, transforming from coaching inn to pub, but the memories of its former life remained deeply embedded in its walls.

The Phantom Coach

The most dramatic haunting at The Bull begins on foggy nights with a distant sound—the rumble of wheels on cobblestones, growing louder as it approaches. Witnesses hear the complete auditory experience of a horse-drawn coach climbing the hill: iron-rimmed wheels turning, horses’ hooves striking stone, the creak of leather harness, and the groan of wooden springs. Every sound is authentic to the coaching era, a full recreation from another time.

Some witnesses see it as well—a shadowy, translucent carriage materializing from the fog, horses straining uphill, the coachman perched on his box, the coach itself heavy-laden with passengers or cargo making the eternal climb. The manifestation ends with the coachman’s voice calling “Whoa!” and the stamp of hooves as horses halt. Then everything vanishes. The coach arrived and was never seen again—until the next foggy night.

The phantom coach always approaches from below, climbing the hill as countless coaches did throughout the centuries, never descending, always arriving at The Bull from London. The climb was the challenge—the exhausting ascent that tested horses and passengers alike—and the approach to The Bull was the final push before blessed rest. The coach eternally repeats this moment of struggle, stopping at or near the pub where coaches actually stopped for centuries, following the same route to the same destination, frozen in time. What tragedy befell this particular coach to mark it for eternity remains unknown. Perhaps an accident on the hill, horses giving out, a coach overturning—or perhaps simply the sheer intensity of the journey itself was enough to leave its impression.

The Ghostly Travelers

Throughout The Bull, figures appear in corridors, rooms, and on stairs, dressed in period costume from various centuries. They seem real at first before fading or vanishing without warning. The ghostly travelers appear confused and lost, as if still trying to find their way to bed after a long journey, unable to recognize the modern surroundings of an inn that has changed beyond their understanding.

The ghosts span centuries of fashion and social class. Georgian gentlemen in powdered wigs share the spectral space with Victorian travelers in top hats, while women in bonnets and cloaks from different decades drift through rooms that once offered them shelter. The Bull served them all in life, and it appears to serve them still in death. Most ignore the living entirely, lost in their own concerns, but some seem to notice modern guests, looking at them with puzzlement or concern before fading away. The worlds touch briefly, then separate.

Phantom Sounds and Moving Doors

The sounds of hurried, purposeful footsteps echo through the building at all hours—people rushing up stairs, through corridors, across rooms. The bustle of a busy coaching inn plays out continuously without any visible source. The footsteps follow routes through the building where corridors once ran and stairs once stood; the layout has changed, but the footsteps remember the old architecture rather than the new. The inn never seems to rest, never closes—the coming and going of an eternal coaching stop where guests are always arriving and always departing.

Doors throughout The Bull open and close without visible cause, as if admitting guests or allowing them to pass. They do not slam but open properly, as if someone is entering, then close behind them. The hospitality continues for invisible guests, and The Bull still admits those seeking rest. The doors are most active at traditional arrival times—late afternoon and early evening, when coaches would have arrived after the day’s journey. The schedule persists in spectral form centuries later, suggesting the inn still welcomes those who approach, whether living or dead.

The Stable Hauntings and Equine Traces

The sound of horses—whinnying, stamping, snorting—comes from the area where stables once stood, long since converted to other purposes. The phantom horses remember their resting place even though it no longer exists in physical form. Accompanying the sounds is the unmistakable smell of horses, hay, leather, manure, and sweat, permeating certain areas of the building, particularly near the old stable location. The phantom scent of working animals lingers where once they rested between journeys. The stable sounds may be connected to the phantom coach, its horses resting between appearances, waiting for the next foggy midnight when they will climb the hill once more.

The Emotional Residue

Visitors to The Bull sometimes experience sudden overwhelming exhaustion—a travel-weariness without cause, as if they have just completed a long and difficult journey. These feelings represent the residual emotions of centuries of tired travelers, concentrated in certain areas of the building where guests would have rested, where exhausted passengers finally found their beds after the grueling climb. The sensations pass quickly, lasting only moments, as if one has walked through an emotional pocket—a concentrated memory of past experience, brief but intense.

Cold spots form throughout The Bull as well, appearing suddenly in corridors and rooms without any heating explanation. They move through the building along pathways that suggest walking, something invisible passing through and trailing cold behind it. Certain areas have persistent cold: the corridor near the bar, the area of the old stables, the spaces where travelers most frequently passed. The cold accumulates where traffic was heaviest, suggesting active presences still moving through the old coaching inn, still going about their eternal business.

Staff Experiences and the Highgate Connection

Staff at The Bull accept the haunting as part of the establishment. The footsteps, the doors, the occasional figure—all are expected and accommodated, and work continues around them. Some staff have heard the phantom coach; fewer have seen it, but all know the legends of foggy nights when wheels rumble up Highgate Hill. Guests report experiences regularly and consistently, the same phenomena decade after decade. Staff listen and sympathize, knowing the stories are more than mere stories.

The Bull’s haunting fits within the broader supernatural character of Highgate itself. The village was historically a threshold place—the last settlement on London’s northern edge before the open road, or the first reached when approaching the capital. Highgate Cemetery lies nearby, one of London’s great burial grounds where the dead rest in Victorian magnificence, and the veil between worlds has always seemed thin in this part of London. Three centuries of travelers have passed through The Bull, their experiences and emotions accumulating, concentrating. The coaching days are over, but their energy remains in spectral sounds and phantom figures.

Visiting The Bull

The Bull is located on North Hill in Highgate Village, near Highgate station, and operates as a working pub open daily. It has served as one of Highgate’s landmarks for three centuries. The corridor areas are best for encountering footsteps and figures, the old stable location for equine phenomena, and standing outside on foggy nights offers the best chance of witnessing the phantom coach. Traditional arrival times of late afternoon and evening tend to see the most activity, though the haunting is constant and the travelers arrive at all hours.

Visitors should watch for the sound of wheels and hooves, doors opening by themselves, cold spots moving through the air, figures in period dress, the smell of horses, sudden unexplained exhaustion, and the peculiar feeling of arrival after a journey one never took.

The Eternal Arrival

The Bull has stood on Highgate Hill for over three centuries, serving travelers on one of England’s great roads. It witnessed the golden age of coaching, the bustling traffic of passengers and mail, the constant coming and going that defined the era. When the railways came and the coaches stopped, The Bull remained—adapting, surviving, carrying its memories into the modern age.

Those memories have never faded. The phantom coach still climbs the hill on foggy nights, its wheels rumbling on stones that are no longer there, its horses straining against a gradient they will never conquer. The ghostly travelers still appear in corridors, looking for rooms they booked centuries ago. The footsteps still hurry through the building, the doors still open for invisible guests, the cold spots still trace the paths of those who passed through.

Visitors to The Bull can drink in a pub that has served three hundred years of travelers. They can feel the exhaustion of those who finally reached the top of the hill, hear the footsteps of those still seeking their rooms, perhaps glimpse the shadowy coach that arrives eternally at the inn that marks the summit.

The great road north still runs through Highgate. The coaches still climb the hill. The Bull still waits to receive them. The arrival never ends.

Sources

• Wikipedia search: “The Bull, Highgate: Where Phantom Coaches Still Climb the Hill”
• Historic England — Listed Buildings — Register of historic sites