Arbor Low Circle henge View all content for Arbor Low

5 August 2022. In a few months time it will be 25 years since my first visit to this place; the source, the font, the seed, of the obsession that has filled a quarter of a century, over half my lifetime. We're staying in Youlgreave for a few days, ostensibly to check out the awesome Burning Man sculptures on display in the park at Chatsworth. After a rainy start, the afternoon has brightened into a lovely summer's day, all big banks of cloud and sunshine. We stroll along Bradford Dale to the always slightly weird village of Middleton, where Green Men and stone faces peer from houses and wells, and where Thomas Bateman lies a'mouldering in his grave. We stop off to pay our respects to him first; his techniques may have been destructive to modern sensibilities, but he furthered our knowledge and understanding of the prehistoric Peak more than anyone else of his day. Leaving the village we briefly do battle with the quarry road, but it's quieter than I remember. Up to the farm, pay the fee, is it really 11 years since we last came here? My life is flashing past, but it's all the blink of a gnat's eye to the slumbering stones and banks of Arbor Low. It's a joy to be back here, especially on such a lovely afternoon. Memories of the place are seared on my brain from that first meeting, but it still feels stupendous and awe-inspiring and fresh each time we come here. We sit on the bank and take it all in, the long views across Derbyshire given texture by the scudding clouds. Since the last time we came, we finally got to Minninglow (poignant now, recalling Stubob) and it's nice to nod at the familiar trees in greeting across the landscape. After a long while we pop across to Gib Hill, but before long we're drawn back to the henge again. I have no new revelations or profound thoughts to add about the archaeology. This is very much an embrace of an old friend, a pang of regret that it's taken so long to reconnect and a promise to return again sooner. But then we always think that, and time is a cruel master, running ever faster onwards. For now, it suffices to enjoy the moment and replenish myself once again from the source, the font, the seed.

Posted by thesweetcheat 2nd August 2023ce

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