Counting the field boundaries to find our way, we looked over the gate at the top and there it was! Looking down the hill, the stones were almost too small to see but raised up on their little platform they became clear. Fourteen or perhaps even sixteen tiny weeny stones make up this most charming of circles at the side of a valley. The level platform is the perfect stage for the minuscule stones to dance endlessly around. I cannot state powerfully enough just how small the stones are and cannot express my amazement enough of how these frail and vulnerable stones have survived. The land here is unploughable and this maybe what has saved it. A man with a sharp spade could have all these stones up in a couple of hours.

A couple of the stones were badly cracked, one was quite loose. But the peace here... the peace! We picnicked, we sat, we lay down, we chilled out. Perfection. Come here.

For directions, see my miscellaneous post below.

The big round stones are all down and today lie deep in the tall meadow peppered with buttercups and daisies. Look closely and you'll see the stones are pink - bright, sparkly Barbara Cartland pink, shimmering and round like something sensual and erotic, ironically in a way that Barbara Cartland wasn't. The stones are in proportion to the diameter of the circle somehow - people reading this who have seen a lot of circles will know exactly what I mean. It's impressive but lacks the 'oomph' of Swinside and of Castlerigg. Visit it anyway. Just to see how pink it is.

Lovely big pink stones, just like those at Gamelands have here, been cruelly bisected by the railway line. It's quite shocking.

And you could see this place as megalithic roadkill, but I prefer to see it in a different way. As one of the those people who has a secret love of waving at trains (preferably from a beautiful trackside location, which this isn't) Kemp Howe gets its own back on the railway line builders and waves at trains everyday. It may have been built over, but it certainly ain't out.

Its a whopper. A great big fist of a stone, now standing in concrete shoes. You don't really get a sense of its deep immensity until you're right up close. Its footprint is dressed squarely but the looming bulk of it seems to rise like a blobby undressed mass as if the builders lost interest in cutting any more of it half way up.

Unlike nearby Kemp Howe, its not pink.

After asking permission and having walked west through the trees towards the M6 you have to climb over either a seriously wobbly gate or cheat death by clambering over a wall which threatens to fall and kill you at any time. I like a gamble so I went for the wall of death. I survived. Only after entering the field did I realise that it was right in front of me on a slight rise! I got a real shock. Cos its really fab! Big old rocks, most of them down but best of all you get two for the price of one with added cairny bit in the middle! Concentric! How cool is that?

The M6 is very VERY close - about 12 metres away - but somehow, it didn't matter because the stones spoke with a louder voice. This one had got away with it and survived! Wonderful!

Though I nearly didn't as the wall attempted to wreak its evil revenge on me as we returned, hurling rocks at my legs as it partially collapsed as I climbed up. The survival instinct kicked in and I went over the gate instead. Be careful!

This is so close to a little lane, you could look at this without even getting out of your car. But do so, because it is quite charming. Climb over the gate (it's padlocked) and you'll see that the stones are big, almost out of proportion thethe diameter of the circle. But it's quite a complete. It has the same character as Little Meg to me.