Aleister Crowley Sites You Can Actually Visit

On the shores of Loch Ness, Boleskine House is arguably the most famous of all Crowley sites. He bought this 18th-century manor in 1899 as the ideal retreat for an intense magical ritual known as the Abramelin operation. The process was meant to summon a spiritual guide, but according to Crowley, things got out of hand. He later claimed that he failed to banish the spirits he called up - a detail that's become central to the house's haunted reputation.

Over the years, Boleskine has changed hands multiple times - including a stint with Led Zeppelin's Jimmy Page - and suffered two major fires in recent years. It's now being restored by a charity, the Boleskine House Foundation, with long-term plans to open parts of the estate to the public. While access is currently limited, the site still attracts visitors drawn by stories of poltergeists, demonic forces, and its lingering reputation as a hub of dark energy.

You wouldn't know it from the outside, but above a café on Blythe Road once stood the London headquarters of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, an influential occult society Crowley joined in the 1890s. In 1900, Crowley tried to seize control of the building in full magical regalia - including a kilt and a black mask - sparking what's sometimes called the "Battle of Blythe Road."

This clash involved incantations, symbolic weapons, and eventually, the police. Today, the building shows no trace of its magical past, but for those in the know, it remains a hidden landmark from a bizarre chapter of occult history.

Just around the corner from the Houses of Parliament, Caxton Hall was once a respectable public venue. That didn't stop Crowley from staging a week-long series of occult plays there in 1910, known as the Rites of Eleusis. These were theatrical magical ceremonies combining poetry, incense, music, and - allegedly - spiked punch containing peyote.

Although Crowley claimed these public rituals were meant to uplift the soul, the press at the time were not impressed. Critics called the shows blasphemous and indecent, but they helped cement Crowley's fame. Today, Caxton Hall has been converted into flats, but its façade remains, and occult tour guides still point it out as the place where Thelema once flirted with showbiz.

Crowley was born in 1875 at 30 Clarendon Square in the spa town of Leamington. It's a neat Georgian house on a quiet residential street and now divided into private flats. There's no plaque marking its history, and local authorities have never been keen to commemorate its infamous former resident.

Still, this is where the young Edward Crowley grew up in a strict Christian household before going on to rebel so completely that he would later adopt the title "The Beast 666." For fans of the occult, this tidy townhouse marks the beginning of that journey - a place where Crowley was once just a boy called Alick.

In the final years of his life, Crowley lived in a boarding house called Netherwood, overlooking Hastings from The Ridge. He died there in 1947, reportedly in poor health and relative obscurity. The house has since been demolished, and modern homes now stand where it once was.

Despite this, the site continues to attract interest. Some locals still talk about a "curse on Hastings" supposedly left by Crowley - a legend claiming no one who lives there can ever truly leave. While likely just a spooky urban myth, it adds to the site's appeal for those tracing Crowley's last days.

Perched above the village of Zennor, Carn Cottage is a derelict stone building surrounded by moorland. It's at the centre of a widely repeated - but largely unproven - story involving Crowley raising the Devil during a black magic ritual that went wrong. The tale links Crowley to the mysterious death of local woman Ka Arnold-Forster in 1938, though there's no real evidence he was ever there at the time.

Still, the cottage has gained a reputation as "Crowley's House" in Cornwall. Visitors report eerie feelings and strange activity, and paranormal groups have investigated the site. Despite the myth, most Crowley biographers agree the story is almost certainly fictional. That hasn't stopped it from becoming part of local lore.