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A Holyhead bloodbath

I've just been to the big white stones of Henblas cromlech, and was very disappointed to find the footpath overgrown and never used, but it still didn't take long to beat a path through the undergrowth, I very much enjoyed my time here, until I received a phone call asking if the kids and me wanted to go out for tea at the Plough, I said OK even though it meant a visit to Trefignath was not going to happen, but I was adamant that the burial chamber that no ones ever heard of near Holyhead would not escape my attention. I found the path back to the car more easily on the way back, aint it always the way.
Back in the car I put my foot down and soon we were going the wrong way in the mental labyrinth that is Holyhead, god I hate this town, cant really say why, it just seems a hopelessly depressing place, the best thing about Holyhead is the road and ferry out of it. Sorry, perhaps its me, not you. Eventually after much cursing I found ourselves on the wrong side of the island and stuck behind the worlds most inconsiderate motor home driver, ever. I've only got a short time before we have to start back, I can feel my hackles getting up, but happily we parted company at the turning for Penrhos Feilw, which we passed by with no more than a glance. Once the two standing stones were out of view behind us I started looking for a suitable place to park.

Having not found one I squeezed in at the side of the road by an opening for a horse paddock, as I wasn't going to be gone long I left daughter in the car with her I phone and two big horses for company. I jumped the gate and started off, over another fence and I was in the open countryside. I could see the upright stones on top of the hill, not far away, 300 yards if that. But getting there was proving difficult, walls of thick gorse blocked my route, and I had to weave a path of my own around and sometimes through, it hurts does gorse, I don't like it, not one bit. The going was hard and time was short, I got to a likely looking rocky outcrop from which to look over the sea of gorse to the site i'd come to see. Crap ! I'm not wading through that lot, I sat for a minute, then decided that I would actually wade through that lot, it's nearly a hundred miles from my house, am I really going to give up when I'm so very close......nope.
I sent a text telling them I would be a touch late for tea.
I actually found a good path through the vicious barbed gorse, it took me all the way to the foot of the Gorsedd, only to be faced with a twelve foot vertical rock climb, I don't like rock climbing, like football it all seems a bit unnecessary.
I struggled through the shaky legs and came out on top, just, I threw my hands up in the air and said out loud nature nil, postman 1.

Gorsedd Gwlwm — Images

<b>Gorsedd Gwlwm</b>Posted by postman<b>Gorsedd Gwlwm</b>Posted by postman<b>Gorsedd Gwlwm</b>Posted by postman

This site is not on any map, thanks be to coflein for pointing it out to me.
Only three stones remain standing of the chamber or large cist, and maybe a couple of kerb stones hiding among the gorse, by now I've decided not to call it gorse anymore, but by the more colourful
name of M*t**r - F*c**r, that's a bad swear word there.
All the time I was here a Buzzard circled me overhead screeching, if this was a western film it would soon be curtains for me.
The view was terrific, north is the Holyhead hut circle group and the fort on the mountain, south is Angelsey giving way to distant Snowdonia, east and west is the Irish sea, and of course that little town.
But, all too soon I must go, I scrambled back down the cliff and followed the path back to where I got on it and then passed that place, only for the path to stop at a dead end, the grass was well trampled, sleeping horses, frolicking humans, or even a Bigfoot nest (they're everywhere you know ).
This is where my time in hell began, I could see no way out, there was nothing for it but to simply wade through the m****r - f***r. Growling, shouting and swearing at the top of my voice did nothing to stop the pain. I remember a wally from long ago saying he was impervious to m****r f****r pain, I didnt believe him then and now I know he was lying. It was like being attacked by a dozen Leprechauns with sharp swords. Every now and then brambles would grab my leg and threaten to pull me over, once when I did go down I lay there for a few seconds thinking "oh well, so this is where they find my body, if you're going to die in the countryside this isn't a bad place to buy it, my ghost wouldn't half laugh at the people who come to remove my body, but lieing down and dieing isn't the postal way, get up man, keep going.
I imagined myself as a soldier enduring some form of jungle warfare, only without the incredible pain in my legs.
Half way back now and i'm so very tired, I look at my hand and it's bleeding quite badly, the sweat pouring off my forehead tastes bloody, and I realise that I've been wiping my sweaty brow with my bloody hand, god I must look a right state. Sometimes it gets easier to move forward, sometimes I'm just stumped and don't know where to go. Continuous swearing seems to have done the trick, I'm nearing the end of my ordeal, my legs are really stinging, I'm dreading having a look at them. Only one barbed wire fence to go, it's covered in brambles, but by now the pain is becoming normal, I bash as much brambles out of the way as I could with my camera bag, lob it over and haul myself over.
I've done it, a plain and normal field to cross and I'm back at the road, what I really don't need now is some Welsh farmer telling me i'm on private property, and that's precisely what doesn't happen, a good job too, I think I might have done away with him.
Next was the priceless look on my daughters face, Dad ! your covered in blood whats happened, now is the time to have a look at my legs. Oh shit look at that, I took a picture of them because in time the scratches will be gone and all this will be a memory. What I really need now is medical attention of some sort, instead I think I'll drive a hundred miles to a posh pub for a well deserved pub meal. One of the good things about going out with my Ex wife and her mother is I can turn up stinking like a torture victim.

So, in summary.
This site is a good one, you will have the place to yourself, views are good, but for the love of god come from the north.
M****r f*****g gorse should be wiped out, extinctified, by flamethrower, bagsy first on that.
postman Posted by postman
21st July 2015ce
Edited 26th July 2015ce

Comments (5)

ha ... ha

I can barely type for laughing. I'm in tears.
thesweetcheat Posted by thesweetcheat
21st July 2015ce
Ah the jabby stuff...............magic!!!!! drewbhoy Posted by drewbhoy
21st July 2015ce
It was, barr none, the nastiest experience Ive ever had hunting down old stones. postman Posted by postman
21st July 2015ce
Access: Requires helicopter. juamei Posted by juamei
22nd July 2015ce
That's the ticket. postman Posted by postman
22nd July 2015ce
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