My ostensible purpose for starting the walk here is the “Standing Stone (recumbent)” marked on the OS 1/25000. Unfortunately, despite wandering back and forth across the general area for about 20 minutes, I find no stones. The vegetation makes it difficult to see and it could easily be hiding sneakily under a gorse bush. So reluctantly I give up and head on my way. There are good views of the prominent rocky ridge of Llandegley Rocks from here. The ridge is home to an Iron Age settlement, but it’s one for another day as I’ve got quite a walk to my next site.

First though, there’s the small matter of a ring cairn discovered on a late-night trawl of Coflein’s blue dots but not shown on the OS map. As I climb the hillside up towards the cairn, a red kite comes to check me out, swooping low above my head to display the characteristic forked tail of the species.

Nearing the hill top, a low mound appears on the right of the path, with a number of stones protruding from the top. Here it is! It’s a decent ring cairn, fairly well-preserved, nothing spectacular but nicely sited on a high-point, with good views of the surrounding hills. If you covered it in heather instead of grass, you could sneak it onto Stanton Moor as an embanked stone circle and you’d get away with it. Definitely worth the walk and shame on OS for missing it off the map (hooray for Coflein obviously). My newfound red kite friend comes back to see what’s occurring. Not much, actually.

One field on from the ring cairn, I leave the comfort of the broad byway and head uphill on a footpath that leads direct to the cairns on Gilwern Hill. At this point, the cloud and light drizzle turns inconveniently into a proper mid-Walian downpour. The top of the hill is cairn II itself, a large grassed-over mound the best part of 20m across and well over a metre high, with a little walkers’ addition on top that I didn’t expect to find in such a remote spot. Evidence of the mound’s stone construction is apparent from protruding stones, otherwise it could easily be taken for an earthen round barrow. A modern post-and-wire fence cuts across the southeastern side of the cairn. Aside from the lashing rain, this would be a fine spot with extensive views, particularly of the neighbouring Gelli Hill cairn.

Gilwern Hill cairn III is supposedly close by. I can’t see any sign of another cairn here. I head on down the hillside, southwest, hoping to find cairn I. This is shown on the map, but I fail to see any sign of it either, as it’s at this point that I begin to realise that the field patterns shown on the OS map have been altered and replaced by post-and-wire fence lines in other places, as well as a re-routed farm track. These re-arrangements will come back more strongly later in the walk, but here it conspires to confuse me and I fail to find cairn I. A pair of red kites hangs over cairn II on the hilltop behind me; this is obviously a little haven for these magnificent birds.

Despite the confusion of fences, the Gelli Hill cairn is a big bugger, so there’s no missing it. It helps greatly with orientation and perhaps it was always that way, helping visitors to find the diminutive stones of the nearby stone circle over the millennia. A proper, stone-built monster cairn this, damaged by digging and the addition of an OS trig pillar to the cairn’s top.There are big blocks amongst the smaller rubble, perhaps there was a central cist of some sort? It’s reminiscent of the cairn on Bache Hill not far away. To re-inforce the point, the top of the Whimble peeps into view briefly through the cloud.

There would be great views of the Radnor mountains from here, but sadly the tops are still enduring a deluge and are hidden within a curtain of grey. Luckily for me, the heavy rain that marred the visit to Gilwern Hill a short time earlier has mostly passed over, leaving behind light drizzle and a substantial drop in temperature.

The stone circle is close to the big cairn and should be really easy to find from it, look, just follow the fence northwest until it meets the bridleway, follow the bridleway along, job done. But it isn’t, because the ground is more up-and-down than you’d think and the fences have all moved! So it takes a while to locate the circle, Mr Burl’s description helps, although he doesn’t mention the big slab in the middle of the circle (off-centre). One of the new fences hems the circle in closely on its southwestern side, not like the open field shown on the current 1/25000 map.

The circle is a ruin, and even when it was brand-spanking new would have been a little underwhelming for anyone who’d been to any other stone circles anywhere. Perhaps they hadn’t though, or perhaps the ritual quality was so impressive that the circle was nothing more than a performance space. It was all about light and magic here, maybe. To be fair, the setting is fine, with nice views especially to the west where the ground drops down to the Wye valley.

The off-centre slab is intriguing, unsure whether it’s an original feature or a more recent interloper. Big though (see picture with map for scale). The other stones are pretty small, none more than a foot or so tall, some are buried – there are mole-hills inside the circle that are taller than some of the stones. Burl reckons it’s one for the “determined”, I won’t disagree as that should be enough to bring many TMAers anyway.

I spend a good while here, wandering around the perimeter rather than sitting as I’m feeling the cold a bit now - the sky has started to clear and blue patches have appeared but there’s a distinct chill in the air and my boots are squelching a bit from the earlier downpour.

I head on over to the outlying stone. It can be seen from the circle, so isn’t hard to find in clear weather. Wedge-shaped, is it fallen, was it always recumbent? There are various smaller stones scattered nearby which would make for promising packing material, but might equally just be random scatter. It has very decent views of the big cairn and over the valleys and hills to the west and northwest, I guess maybe towards Pumlumon and the major watersheds of mid Wales.

From the Gilwern Hill cairn I head back north to byway and past a scenic little lake at Ffrwd. A padlocked gate across the byway is accompanied by an chunky upright megalithic slab, spotted with yellow lichen and leaning against another smaller slab. Coflein places Ffwrd stone hereabouts, this fits the (limited) description, but is it “it”? The location is only approximately near the Coflein blue dot, so it’s not certain.

I skirt the hill below Carregwiber fort, I had tentatively hoped to get a visit in but I’m tiring and quite cold now, so decide to press on. Instead I manage a quick stop at Carregwiber stone, which is a small stone that in many places would be dismissed as a rubbing post, but here we seem to be surrounded on all sides by standing stones so it’s part of a complex. It’s a shapely, tapering stone, set above a slope to give greater prominence and a terrific view of the Radnor mountains. The ambience is rather spoiled by the carcasses of a rusting car, caravan and assorted junk in close proximity, but don’t let that put you off (too much).

The second trig-surmounted cairn of the day, The Beacon is less impressive than Gelli Hill cairn. It’s quite reduced and low, but it does boast similarly expansive views to many of today’s other sites, especially to the northwest where Llandrindod nestles in the valley below. Carregwiber fort can be seen, and the Radnor Mountains provide the backdrop to the northeast. It would have been a fair size, judging by the footprint and stonework protrudes here and there through the grass. Access is easy, a footpath leads straight to the cairn across a single field from the road. I don’t stay long, but head on to Little Hill VII.

Little Hill VII proves to be a rather uninspiring end to the day. A very overgrown cairn, on a golf course. Not one to make a special effort for, unless you like golf (I don’t). I always feel sorry for barrows on golf-courses though. If they manage to avoid being turned into a landscaping feature (like a couple of ones on Ludlow racecourse), they seem doomed to be “in the rough”, where vegetation is encouraged to smother them and legions of pringle-clad middle-aged men assiduously try to avoid them. Shame.