The next village reached is Sheepstor, little more than a hamlet really, with a square-towered granite church and medieval cross at its centre and a quintessential Dartmoor leat running along the roadside. Of interest is an old well-head, standing outside the eastern wall of the churchyard. Constructed of bits of gothic tracery, the water in the well itself is clear.

The walk from here to the circles is longer than it looks, dropping down into boggier, then muddier, ground. I pass an uninterested group of wild horses, then a rather more nosey herd of cattle, before reaching the circles themselves. I have them to myself, despite the large number of people I can see on Gutter Tor away to the south.

According to Burl, this site was heavily restored in the 1920s by the Rev. Breton. There has been much speculation about it since, including the possibility that it is actually the remains of a round cairn, which would not be out of the question when compared with the construction of the terminal ring cairns at nearby Drizzlecombe. There are a host of features to look at here. Slightly uphill to the ENE, the remains of a much smaller cairn circle overlook the main site. The visible stones of this are small, little more than stumps breaking clear of the cropped grass. In the opposite direction, downhill and the west of the circles, are the remains of a short avenue. A possible continuation extends over the other side of a nearby leat. Again these are small stones, size-wise comparable with the stones of the avenues at Cerrig Duon in South Wales.

The real draw is of course the four circles themselves. Not quite concentric, only two share the same centre and only one (the central) is a true circle. The outermost circle contains the biggest stones, especially to the SE. Even so, none of the stones is over five feet tall and there are a lot of smaller stones in between. The next two rings are comprised of much smaller stones. The central circle is beautifully constructed, the stones virtually touching on the southern arc, making a closed ring surrounding a central space with a diameter a little less than 22 feet. If there was a central cairn, it is gone.

The nearby Tors dominate the landscape of the circles, particularly Sheeps Tor to the NW. The position suggests very strongly that these surrounding features were of paramount importance in the siting of the monument, for it has no extensive views or commanding altitude of its own. Like many of the stone circles of England (West Cornwall and The Peaks, as well as nearby Brisworthy), the presence of a nearby rocky hilltop seems likely to have had significance to the builders.

I spend an hour or so here, watching another band of black rain cloud approach over Sheeps Tor, but passing on its way without delivering its cargo at Yellowmead. It is very peaceful, not a soul comes this way while I'm here. This little site enthralls me. I have no idea whether it is true to its original layout or a restorer's fantasy. I'm not sure it matters at all. Like Belas Knapp, in my opinion we are richer in having it restored in this way, than we would be if it was left as found in the 1920s.

At length I head off, pausing to have a quick look at Yellowmead SE cairn. Doughnut-shaped from digging, there's not a great deal left of this cairn to see, although it must have been a pretty fair size when built. The Yellowmead circles are not visible from it.

From here the much bigger hills of Moel y Parc and Penycloddiau become visible to the south, setting the scene for the walk ahead. I scoot off-Path temporarily to have a look at the barrows on the hilltop, but they're over fences and not much more than low, grassy mounds, so I don't make too much effort and we're soon back on our way.

Once we hit the 300m mark, the climb becomes less steep and it's a steady climb up to the northern ramparts of the fort, via a couple of false crests. Green grass gives way to purple heather as we approach. The multiple lines of defence are immediately apparent, in what would have been a pretty off-putting sight to any would-be attackers. One of the ditches is deep and sufficiently intact to be filled with a scummy green "moat" (presumably not an original feature?).

Having crossed four lines of defensive banks, we emerge into the fort interior, where a rather immaculate cairn greets us. I assume (mistakenly) that it's modern as it's not marked on the map, but a post-trip check of Coflein reveals it to be a genuine, albeit heavily restored, Bronze Age cairn. It marks the highest point of the fort, at around 440m above sea level.

The wind here is pretty fierce, making for a fairly inhospitable stop and we don't hang around very long before electing to take the eastern rampart of the fort. I have the usual delusions of doing a complete circuit, but this is a big fort! From its northern end, the eastern rampart sets off in an impressive triple-line of banks, with a sharp drop away to the east beyond (the drop on the west side of the fort is much steeper though). Moel Famau, highest point in the Clwydian Range, looms into view to the south, but we won't be getting near that today.

The rampart steadily drops away from the northern end of the fort and just before the halfway point the triple banks end, presumably at what would have been an entrance. South of here the rampart drops further and is marked by a single (still impressive) rampart. The nearest neighbouring fort, Moel Arthur, is now in sight, its height comparable with our own. We eventually reach the southern end of the fort, and walk a little way along the (very windy) western rampart before rejoining The Path as it starts its descent from the hill.

The further we drop, the steeper the climb up Moel Arthur starts to look. By the time we get to the parking area between the two hills, it's clear that there will be a pretty sharp uphill to come, and so it proves. But it's the last climb of the day and the ground levels out a little before it reaches the fort. A track leads off The Path to the fort itself, at which point G/F decides to stop while I go for an explore.

This is a lovely fort, roughly circular and surrounded by multiple lines of banks and ditches in the style that characterises these Clwydian forts. Once into the fort's interior, the views open out on all sides, taking in Moel Famau to the south, Penycloddiau to the north and the extensive vale of Clwyd to the west. At its highest point (456m) the fort is higher than its northern neighbour. A quick tour of the concentric heather-clad ramparts reveals a very steep drop away to the south, making this small, compact fort a much more defensible proposition than the much larger site to the north. Unlike its neighbour though, there's no obvious water supply within the fort itself – perhaps the North Walian rain provided enough!

The weather was still a bit dodgy so the thought of heading up not one but three hillforts in an afternoon was seeming far less likely. However, we got to Bailiehill Fort and parked by the interpretation board. A very friendly, local fisherman came over for a chat and explained the field below was known as the "Handfasting Field"; I think it is the point where the 2 tributaries of the river meet, which seems rather beautifully symbolic. After chatting with him we felt more enthused about attempting the steep climb up to Bailehill so, with wellies and waterproofs on, we set off. Now, wellies are not really the best footwear for walking up steep inclines but it was pretty boggy and we eventually got to the interesting bits, albeit slightly out of breath - but what a view!
Although the skies were still heavy with rain and grey we could see straight across the valley and the colours on the hillsides were stunning. We could also make out a number of other hill fort sites on the surrounding hills as we pottered around. This site has some great thunking ramparts and I was staggered to read that is has never been excavated, so we tried to do a bit of our own "digging", poking around in some of the exposed holes but it proved unfruitful. Bah.

After a good time spent doing our usual "oooh, look at this" and "do you think this is...." and after considering the theory that these were not defensive locations at all but more a case of local one-upmanship and status ("look how high up my house is!") we rather carefully descended the saturated hillside and were ready for more

We got out of the car and set off up the wee track, just as the heaven's opened and a deluge of rain and hail came down. We ran back to the car and sat there for 10 minutes until it slowed down a wee bit and then Vicky decided to take the Forestry Commision on single-handedly, by driving up the path and onto the F.C. road which runs below the hillfort! We parked at the base and set off up the steep pathway, feeling rather rebellious and relieved that the rain had stopped and that our walk up had been reduced by her daring actions. Ha ha ha. Oh my, what a site this is! Another great interpretation board and leaflet and even more spectacular views of the valley below. We tried to get our bearings by working out the position of the sun, which was just starting to peek through the grey clouds (being the great explorers that we are) and we were truly impressed with the sheer size of this site. This is said to be the most spectacular of the remaining forts in the area and it is easy to imagine just how impressive it would have been. Weather aside, this is a great time of year to visit these sites as the colours are breathtaking, the bracken has died back and there is a wonderful sense of isolation as you get the whole place to yourselves.

Oh my! What a lovely pair of circles these are. We are parked at the layby for the Loupin Stanes and set out across the field. As we came across the stones, I felt a sense of elation; iron age hillforts are all well and good, but give me an upright stone in a field and I am a very happy girl. This is a lovely compact set of stones, slightly raised but with a sense of isolation which suits the location perfectly. We then set off for the Girdle Stanes, expecting more of the same.
What we weren't expecting is one of the most beautiful and mesmerising circles we have ever seen! We were completely blown away by it all; the fact that it must've been HUGE when complete (although Vicky has her own theory that it was only ever a half circle.....that was something we pondered later over a couple of bottles of wine!), the fact that it reminded us both of Athgreany Circle in Co Wicklow and the fact that it was just bloody marvellous! I really wasn't expecting to feel so enthused by this place and I have a sneaking suspicion that the Girdle Stanes have just crept into my Top 10 Circles of all time list. The whole of this river valley reminded us both of Kilmartin and we wondered what other monuments must have existed here; surely this couldn't be it? As you stand in the valley and look around, it feels like there must be so much more just waiting to be discovered – or possibly ruined and now lost to us. We walked up to the road from here and spent ages just looking back down at this circle, completely in love with the whole place. Fabulous.
Pebs had mentioned that it has rained every time she has visited these stones but I am happy to report that the sun was hovering in the sky, albeit amongst some rather grey looking clouds and we were once again thankful that the weather seemed to be on our side. The ground between the 2 circles was very boggy and it took some time to navigate our way between the two. I definitely would advise walking from the Loupin Stanes to the Girdle Stanes across the fields (there is a wooden sign post showing the way) and then walking back along the road, as it gives you a real sense of how beautiful this valley is.

By the time we reached the layby, the sun was blazing and we didn't even need our coats. I love an unseasonably warm autumn day in Scotland! On the map, the burial site is shown to be in plantation but this has fortunately been cut back, so we set out through the rather bleak landscape until we found the obligatory interpretation board. I love the fact that a circle of trees had been planted around the site and then cut at such a height that identifies the site, as it would be pretty hard to spot otherwise! Sadly, this once enormous cairn (said to have been in a cruciform shape) was robbed of all of its stones many years ago and all that remains is the small cist. However, it is a lovely site, with fabulous views across the surrounding hills and an amazing echo, which made our voices ring out across the land. The remaining woodland was boggy and overgrown but we thought we could make out a possible large, moss-covered stone about 50m from the site of the cist. However, we were not properly attired (our wellies were packed and in my car back in Langholm) so we couldn't check it out....so we headed back to the car, pleased we had made it here after all and (almost) completed the Eskdale Prehistoric Trail. We now plan to return in the Spring and visit all the sites again to see how they look and feel in a different season.

This is the website of the Hunebed Center Museum at Great Borger.

Maendy Camp comes into view pretty soon once the path levels out. It makes use of a natural knoll, with the ground dropping away on north and south sides. The Clydach Forest dominates the hills across the valley to the south. Rounding the south-eastern corner of the fort, the rubble construction of the bank is exposed. The interior on the east side is buried under a liberal growth of bracken, making is pointless to try and investigate from this direction. However, the bracken thins out on the west side and it's easier to gain access here. A low, grass-covered bank cuts across the middle of the site. This is the "inner" rampart, which forms the boundary of a smaller enclosure occupying the northeast part of the camp. The outer rampart is more obviously of rubble construction, particularly apparent along the northern section.

In the middle of the open interior, positioned outside and to the southwest of the inner enclosure, are the remains of a badly damaged cairn. A low mound with a few protruding stones can be discerned, around a central pit resulting from excavation. A bronze dagger and some flints were found when the cairn was originally excavated, but there's little to see now.

I rejoin the bridleway and continue southwest. The ground climbs steadily now, then sharply, before levelling again to a crest just above the 450m mark. At the edge of this little plateau, the OS marks a further cairn. The views to the east over the Rhondda Valley and back to Maendy Camp have now opened up, and to the north the tops of the central Beacons, Corn Du, Pen y Fan and Cribyn are now visible. It takes me a while to find the cairn, supposedly a ring cairn. In the end, all that appears to be left is a pile of stones. There's no obvious mound or ring at all and the pile itself is shapeless. Still, a good place to stop and enjoy the views, before the pull up to the top of the hill.

There are two summit cairns marked on the OS, both within the 535m contour on the very top of the hill where they would have commanded extensive views in all directions. No longer, however. Mynydd Ton ("Wasteland Mountain") is now cloaked in dense conifer forest, and the summit is no longer open to the elements (it is still open to walkers though).

A forestry track takes me along the edge of the forest, before another heads off in a northeasterly direction into the trees. (Note for anyone wishing to come here - this track is not shown on the OS 1:25000, but it follows an old line of fence posts which are marked.) After about 100yds, a green strip of grass has been cleared through the trees on the south of the path. At the end of this strip is the first of the two summit cairns.

A large mound still exists, marked with a small cairn of stones that covers evidence of burning, rusty cans, and so on. Originally a central cist was found, but there's no visible evidence of this now.

I head off along the northeasterly path again. It, and the fence post line, take a sharp turn to the southeast. In theory there is an OS trig point here, another relic of a time before the trees. This trig would point me on the way to the second cairn. Unfortunately, the trees have formed an impenetrable barrier, within which is darkness and no way through. I carry on along the path until it meets another running north-south, hoping to find a way in from that side instead. But it's the same there too. So, I admit defeat. Perhaps at another time of year a way in can be found, or it may be that a way in from the north is possible (I didn't look in that direction).

Back onto forestry paths, this time heading south towards the biggest of today's cairns, Garn Fawr (erm, "Big Cairn"). According to Coflein, the cairn has a diameter of almost 19m. Unfortunately it's completely trashed. An OS trig pillar has been erected on the top, but that's the least of the problems. There are several walkers cairns and one enormous (6ft tall) shelter, all of which have been constructed from material robbed from this once magnificent cairn. Very little remains now to tell you that there even was a cairn here. There is some evidence of original rubble construction at ground level, but little else.

So I carry on along the forestry tracks, to where a footpath leaves the access land and heads SSW to Garn Fawr's companion, Garn Fach (erm, "Small Cairn"). Garn Fach has fared slightly better, but only slightly. It stands at less than 50cm tall, but its overall size is still discernable and the original mound can be seen still. Like most of today's sites, it is topped with a pile of stones. Garn Fawr is easily visible on the skyline to the north, while Swansea Bay can be seen to the south, as the ground slopes away.

I'm pleased to see that the tips and landfill mentioned in previous fieldnotes are closed and are slowly being covered over by vegetation. The route takes a turn for the difficult, as I find myself having to cross a steep cwm (and a rusty barbed wire fence) in order to continue eastwards, but eventually I'm up on the plateau of Mynydd y Gelli ("Mountain of the Grove" or "Wooded Mountain") itself. I know roughly what I'm looking for, from the links posted on TMA and from the Burl description. The sun is now beaming down on beautiful afternoon. And so I dutifully wander backwards and forwards across the plateau. And backwards and forwards. And backwards and forwards…

There are plenty of low clearance cairns in evidence, but I'm not convinced that any of them fit the description of the ring cairn. I spend about an hour wandering across the area and I'm still not convinced. Maybe it's lost in the bracken? I have an idea that it's quite close to the lip of the hillside, but that doesn't help. Eventually I give up. I should mention that a nice easy footpath heads east from the plateau, until you hit the access road for the old tip. Then, it crosses into an area of quarrying and appears to disappear over a cliff. So I waste even more time trying to get back down off the hillside into the town (so close, yet so far). Finally I scramble down through deep vegetation, hoping not to break an ankle in the process. Gah! No idea how to get back up here if I decide to pay a return visit from this direction. I finish up eventually back at Ystrad station, and head back to Cardiff. Rhondda Stonehenge? An over-enthusiastic billing if ever there was one.

[Post-visit note: A closer inspection of Coflein on my return suggests that the ring cairn itself is slightly further west than my wanderings, and nearer the tall chain link fence. The "cairns" marked on the OS map – which was mainly where I was looking – do not include the ring cairn. I would advise anyone going to look for this to take a print of the Coflein map at a large scale, rather than trusting to the 1:25000 OS map alone.]

Once I climb down from the top of Down Tor itself, I'm expecting to see the first of today's sites. After all, it's a very well-preserved circle, together with a 350m long row and a terminal stone standing nearly 3m tall. In fact, there's no sign of it until I head further east. Suddenly I'm over a small crest and practically on top of this megalithic wonder. What a beauty this is! The circle itself is lovely, 12m across and surrounding the remains of a damaged but recognisable central cairn. Another cairn sits a few yards away to the northwest. This really is a terrific site, aided by the splendid isolation I get here today.

And then there's the row. It extends away to the northeast, heading further into Dartmoor's magnificent empty space. Clouds race past, drawn towards a convergence over the horizon. At the southwestern end, next to but separate from the circle, the row terminates in a huge upright monolith, almost 3m tall and very thick - it weighs about three tons. Seen from this end, the row appears pretty much straight (which it is). It leads uphill towards another cairn, as well as a small prehistoric enclosure. By the time I reach the northeastern terminal stone, the row appears to curve away back to the cairn circle. This is actually an optical illusion, caused by the gently sloping contours that the row crosses. This weird "not curve" further enhances what is undoubtedly one of the best sites I've been to. I still struggle rather with Dartmoor chronology and don't really know whether the row post-dates the large-scale clearances carried out during the Bronze Age. It's hard though to imagine creating such a wonderfully designed monument in the middle of trees, where the form could not be easily appreciated.

To the northeast of the row, but not aligned with it, is Narrator Brookhead enclosure. It's oval in plan and there are no obvious structures (such as hut circles) inside it. The outer wall is still thick, but only a single course high.

At the highest point of the hill, the southern end of the ridge, are two large cairns. The northern cairn is an impressive 20m across. A Bronze Age reave heads WSW down the hill directly from it. But the southern cairn, the Eylesbarrow itself, is bigger still. Another of the reservoir catchment markers stands between the two cairns, on a windswept spot that will be the highest point of my walk today. Without hanging around very long, I follow the reave down the hill.

The ground slopes away to the valley of the nascent River Plym. Between my vantage point and there, an incredible array of monuments and animals is laid out. Cows, sheep and horses fill the space, interspersed with very large upright stones dotted here and there. I've found the rows, at any rate.

But the ground above the "ritual" complex is itself packed with archaeology. Settlement enclosures, round houses and cairns vie for position. One of the first cairns I come across (cairn 15) has some unusual upright stones in its mound, which appear to be in-situ. It's right next to a hut circle. As ever, I don't have the knowledge to really understand the phases of what I'm looking at, which came first and whether the living were sharing their space so closely with the dead. One cairn, much bigger than the rest (cairn 18), is a good spot to view the rest of the site below.

From atop the cairn, the layout of the rows becomes clear, together with their proximity to the even larger Giant's Basin cairn. Three large terminal stones are readily visible, as are three cairn circles in a line at the northeast of the rows. A large herd of cows and another of horses are clustered around the tallest of the terminal stones and other cows and sheep are busy grazing across the site. There are no people to be seen and I get the impression of being an intruder into this primal space.

But the sun is shining and I've travelled a long way to come here, so I'm going to carry on intruding for a while longer yet. The NW of the three cairn circles doesn't have a row of its own, although a low outlier some way to the southwest (which I don't try to find in the bracken today) may indicate an intention that it was to have. This cairn is surrounded by a couple of rings of small slabs, suggesting a complex constructional method.

The central cairn circle has a more obvious outer ring of uprights, and is at the northeastern end of one of the three stone rows that form the complex. The centre of the cairn exhibits the usual central doughnut of excavation. A walk along the row ends in the first (and smallest) of the three enormous terminal stones. This one is a tapering slab, 2.3m high, placed edge on to the row and leaning slightly.

I head towards the southwestern row's terminal stone, but a group of bullocks are getting increasingly lairy around it (once they start trying to shag each other, it's time to back away). So instead I cut across to the Giant's Basin cairn. I do get a good look along the southwest row though, worth noting particularly as it's a double row for part of its length. At its northeastern end is another cairn circle. The slabs at this end of the row have fallen and lie prostrate near the cairn. In addition, there is a small cist between the cairn circle and the Giant's Basin cairn – talk about packed with archaeology! Row 2, well-seen from the Giant's Basin, ends in the largest of the three terminal stones. At over 4m tall, this is the tallest standing stone on Dartmoor. Today, four-legged acolytes, cows and horses, surround it. I don't get too close for fear of upsetting a ceremony of sorts. Its row is the shortest of the three and also ends in a cairn circle, another decent mound surrounded by an incomplete ring of slabs.

I'm awestruck by this amazing place. The primal energies of the animals seem to do it justice and once again I'm filled with the sense that I'm a passer-by, a temporary presence in an ageless space. The bullocks have gradually headed along the southwestern row now, so I skirt their proceedings and make for the now-vacated south-west terminal stone. It's a lovely symmetrical, tapering 3m slab, again facing edge-on to the row.

What a place. I finally leave the complex, heading towards Ditsworthy Warren. I hope to come here again, this is a site to treasure.

There's something quite satisfying about squelching across sodden moors in the pouring rain. Once you've accepted you're going to get wet, there's no shelter and no short-cut, a sense of purpose kicks in. So with this feeling, I reach the northern end of Ringmoor Down stone row. After the wonders of Drizzlecombe, the tiny terminal stone is surprising, but it shares with Drizzlecombe Row 1 a partial double section (which may not actually be authentic here). Taking pictures is difficult, as the lens gets wet every time I point the camera anywhere but downwards. Eventually I get up to the cairn circle, by which time the rain has got even heavier. This is actually a great little cairn circle, with decently spaced uprights (one of which looks rather as if it might be upside down). The central cairn is badly reduced. I could imagine spending a lot longer here, if it weren't so wet. Instead I squelch onwards.

The first of the "proper" Dartmoor circles I've visited, Brisworthy is brilliant, even in the 45 degree rain. It's set on a sloping hillside, and the eye is immediately drawn to Legis Tor across the valley to the east. It reminds me of other circles that have intervisible rocky outcrops nearby – Boskednan/Carn Galva; Tregeseal/Carn Kenidjack; Nine Ladies/Robin Hood's Stride. All of these must have been built to sit as part of the bigger natural landscape, it's an unavoidable connection. The stones of the circle are nicely graded too, and around its outside (particularly on the east) I notice that there are quite a number of small quartz stones in the ground, almost as if there was an outer ring. Be interested to know what anyone else makes of that (if anything!).

Our first stop of an already hot day is the cairn at Mount Todden. At first sight, this large barrow could easily be dismissed as a natural boulder outcrop, as the western side of the barrow is exactly that. However, a couple of long slabs, similar to the ones that roof many of the island's chambered tombs, can be seen on the east side and may mark the remains of a cist or chamber.

The ridge is surmounted by a number of chambered tombs, in varying degrees of preservation. There's a heavy covering of bracken over the mounds at this time of year, but the general shape and form can still be seen. We have a poke about on the top of 'A', the most westerly of the three primary tombs that remain. This reveals one in-situ capstone, as well as another slab that presumably formed part of the chamber's roof.

'B' is another large mound, but the chamber is badly ruined with only a couple of uprights to be seen. 'D' on the other hand is great, with a well-preserved kerb and a largely intact chamber covered by a very thick, square slab. This is a beautiful spot, with views across Crow Sound to St Martin's and south to Porth Hellick, also dotted with chambered tombs and our next destination.

The "Great Tomb" is a huge, reconstructed circular passage grave, which includes an unusual blocking-slab separating the roofless passage from the central chamber itself. From here many of the other chambered tombs on the Down can be seen, as can the Deep Point tombs on the headland to the north.

All these tombs are thought to be part of a Bronze Age continuation of a chambered tomb style that begun during the Neolithic, on the mainland in West Penwith. Whether they actually pre- or post-date similar mainland tombs, the Scillonian ones are preserved in much greater numbers, usually in concentrations like this (or at least pairs). All in all, this makes for a hugely rewarding place for the stonehead to visit, particularly when coupled with such lovely surroundings. We confine ourselves to a few of the more obvious tombs ('B', 'C', 'E' and 'G' are all well worth a look) before we head off the Down.

Next up we reach Salakee Down. The tombs here are much harder to see, being covered in deep bracken. I bumble about on top of one, finding a very long capstone still roughly in place, together with a decent kerb. G/F doesn't share my enthusiasm and carries on along the coast path – very wise. What I do get from here is a great view of Giant's Castle, with its concentric lines of ramparts. We head there next.

It's an odd sort of a fort, this. There are several (at least four) low lines of "defence" that cut the rocky headland off from Salakee Down. There are quite closely spaced, not much room between each line. And the interior is a small, exposed space, climbing up to a rocky promontory that has been sculpted by the elements into fantastic shapes. It's hard to believe that this could have been big enough to warrant defending, let alone be possible to live inside. All of which may suggest status rather than practical defensive purpose. Still, I have fun clambering onto the topmost rocks, where a gusty wind does its best to send me back down again.

At the base of the fort, the low mound of another battery can be seen, perhaps evidence that the real need for defence would come a millennium and a half after the Iron Age construct.