You know how it is... the lethargy, the call of the 'roll over in bed' too great to harbour any intention of going anywhere this morning? Tell me about it... so it's with some irony that I find myself heading up the M25 shortly after bound for.... Ware. An apparently rather fine bowl barrow within Easneye Wood, to the east of said town, is the objective. Yeah, about an hour's drive to visit a mound of earth, with no guarantee of an audience... there must be easier 'hobbies', surely? No, I think not.
The first pleasant surprise is the quality of the Hertfordshire countryside as I park up opposite Watersplace Farm on the B1004. I guess the clear blue sky, the catalyst for the visit, helps... but nevertheless... nice. The track, heading approx south east through the farm before crossing the River Ash, is wide and well maintained. Entering Easneye Wood it begins to climb, flanked on the right by a very deep drainage ditch. I head off uphill where this terminates, following a wire-mesh enclosure... one assumes there for the (poor) grouse... until a quite splendid bowl barrow emerges through the trees. Now there is some dispute as to the dating of this monument. EH is pretty confident it's Bronze Age in origin, no doubt in no small measure thanks to the cremation deposits mentioned in Rhiannon's post [refer English Heritage, National Monuments Record 638576].... deposits incidentally replaced within the mound following excavation. Hertfordshire HER, however, reckons it 'looks' Roman..... what chance of analysing the cremation using modern methods for a definitive answer. Can a 'contaminated' sample of organic material be of use? Dunno. Whatever, I must admit the round barrow certainly looks 'authentic' enough to me.
The monument's setting, beside a dirt track with piles of logs here and there, is disorder itself, yet curiously aesthetically pleasing to these eyes .... a working wood, albeit one apparently worked for a purpose many of us, myself included, will no doubt find abhorrent. But such is the countryside. More disturbingly, a 'christian college' lies below to the south-west, a place where adults still - even in the 21st Century - succumb to religious dogma unsupported by any evidence whatsoever. Not a problem if they were content to leave the rest of us alone and not invoke the political power trip.... but of course such people can not. But there you are. Many others will clearly disagree, as is their right. Just stay the hell away from me and allow me to believe my own senses.
The northern half of this substantial barrow is overgrown with brambles; however these are absent from the southern, affording a very fine perch from which to take in the vibe of the ancient forest.... the remnants of trees which once crowned the mound are still in evidence, one destroyed by Nature, the other by man. A couple of others 'hang in there', thriving upon the fertile soil. There are also the remains of a magpie, a pile of distinctive feathers all that is visible from the kill of a fox.... or perhaps bird of prey. Periodic sunlight streams through the bare winter canopy - or rather lack of it - and only the sound of headbanging woodpeckers, the odd shotgun, microlight, squirrel... etc... OK, it's not the quietest spot ... breaks the silence. No christian missionaries, however. Thank, er, goodness. Although, in retrospect, an encounter may well have proved 'interesting'. Or maybe not.
Time runs out and I return to the car, noticing 'Private - No Path' signs I (honestly) missed on the way up. Hey ho... note that these are private woods, then. Whatever. But what a great bowl barrow this is.
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Garreg Las, a long ridge of shattered rock thrusting northwards from the otherwise predominately grassy uplands of Y Mynydd Du (The Black Mountain), sits in sulky isolation a little south-west of its higher - not to mention far more popular - peers. To be honest it's not really a 'peak' as such, the 2,076ft summit 'merely' the highest point of a chaotic, broken table of limestone overlooking Cwm Sawdde Fechan to the east. There are no dramatic mountain lakes here to inspire legend - as just 'up the road' - no soaring cliff lines to entice more than the occasional walker.... just an uncompromisingly brutal landscape combining with utter silence to generate a feeling as near as dammit to complete isolation as you'll probably experience in all the Welsh mountains.
Yeah, that is 'the Garreg Las experience' today, the ideal spot to practice whatever amateur philosophy takes your fancy with minimal risk of some group of route marching muppets spoiling the ambience. However there is evidence that this high ridge was not always so marginalised within human society.... two great big stony piles of it, no less! For it was here that the Bronze Age peoples of the area erected two massive cairns which, although much mutilated internally - as you would probably expect - still overwhelm the senses of receptive upland travellers with their dramatic profiles.
It is truly hard to come to terms with the fact that people used to actively select such uncompromising locations as this to lay their important dead to rest.... but there's no getting away from it, an example upon Fan Foel to the east having been excavated before suffering the same fate as these two beauties, revealing a stone cist bearing grave goods. So, far from being at 'the back end of nowhere', as it is - gloriously so - today, Garreg Las clearly occupied a prominent position in the Bronze Age psyche. My, times have changed. Tell me about it.
The twin cairns which still stand here - the Carnau'r Garreg Las - do not quite measure up (in terms of physical stature) to those found upon the extreme western flanks of Y Mynydd Du; however they are still very substantial indeed, their haunting profile, suddenly materialising upon the final approach from the north-west, enough to cause me to involuntarily chuck my trekking poles half way across the mountain... or at least it seemed that far going to collect them again. The southern is arguably the more substantial of the pair, although both are soon placed very much in perspective (as are The Mam C and I) by a violently changeable sky dispensing hail and sunbursts in quick succession. To view towering cloud formations hovering overhead (like the alien mother ships of... er... more fertile imaginations) when perched upon an ancient Bronze Age cairn is to be completely overwhelmed by the immensity of existence. Or something like that... steady on, old chap. The look on the Mam C's face tells me she feels the same. No need for words.
Approaching Garreg Las from the neighbouring summits of Y Mynydd Du requires suitably substantial walks, it has to be said. However an expedition of somewhat lesser magnitude can be enjoyed by leaving the A4069 at Pont Newydd to the north-west. Take the minor road heading south-east and park at the crossroads leading to Ty-brych farm to the right, a rough track continuing straight ahead. Follow the (tarmac) road downhill, past the farm, and it becomes a muddy bridleway descending to, then crossing, a cascading water course (the Nant Ffynnon-wen, I think). The track continues, climbing now, to the south-east to begin to ascend the open hillside. Carn y Gigfran, another Bronze Age cairn, crowns the left hand extremity of the ridge rising above and beyond. You can do worse that head for the col to the right of Carreg Yr Ogof, the great Garreg Las cairns lying unseen over the rocky crest further along to the right. The ascent, over grass until the final shattered, rocky pavement is attained, is a bit of a drag. But worth the effort? As Harry Hill says... there's only one way to find out...
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Essex is probably best known in 'antiquarian' circles for its hillforts.... somewhat ironically, perhaps, seeing as we haven't exactly got many hills, fortified or otherwise. Prehistoric monuments of other types are few and far between, even the usually ubiquitous 'Tumuli' a priceless scarcity, the sum of examples further depleted by association with 'Romano-Britishness'.
I didn't do any 'homework' for my visit to Lawford Park.... this time, however, with the express intention of forming a judgement based solely upon the light entering these two eyes of mine. Needless to say I arrive under a crisply blue winter sky and conclude, a little disappointed (I guess) that here we have another post-Iron Age monument. Yeah, it just looks too, well.... large, covering too large a surface area to be Bronze Age in origin. Nothing wrong with that, of course. But less than two millennia old, erected by Boudicca's lot? Ha! That was only yesterday.
The mound, as mentioned, is a big'un... not in terms of elevation - traces of central excavation damage no doubt account for that - but certainly with regards circumference. A juxtaposition of tall pine and oak surmount the barrow, throwing deep shadows, in addition to the former's cones, upon the irregular summit. A great, evocative place to chill out in the shade of the towering copse and daydream of Celtic warrior women, hair a' streaming in the wind. But enough of that, this is a family web-site.
Consequently I go for a wander in the field to the south and begin to progressively doubt my initial dating presumption. How could it be otherwise when here lie two/three(?) severely trashed circular, earthen features. Remnants of additional barrows, perhaps? If so, why did the primary monument survive? Or possibly ring ditches? Was there much more going on within what became Lawford Park than at first meets the eye? Upon returning to the barrow, perplexed, the farmer arrives in his landrover and waits before receiving my 'raised hand' acknowlegement. Although more in the style of 'Alan Shearer' than most, it is enough to satisfy him I'm kosher, so off he trundles in silence. I can do with that. Yeah, the way it should be, since after all, this is private land.
Intrigued, back at home I take a look at Essex HER records.... 'Round barrow in Lawford Park, excavated in 1812 when 2 urns were recovered..' Bronze Age funerary urns, that is. And wait, there's more...'4 ring-ditches to the south.... further ring-ditches to the SW...'. So, it seems that, indeed, Essex has a slumbering prehistoric ritual complex of its very own. Who'd have thought it? Clearly not I.
Access is pretty easy, too. Follow a green track heading northwards at the point where Dedham Road (approaching from the A137, a little west of Lawford) makes a right angled left turn. The Bronze Age barrow is visible beyond a gate to your left at a cross-track... however I carried on to the forest line and approached along that. Nice. Obscure, too, with a landowner who doesn't appear to mind the odd (as in 'occassional', that is) traveller having a look... in return for a touch of common courtesy.
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Well, this was a turn up for the books this sunny, winter afternoon... a major hillfort instead of the denuded remnants of earthen banks I was expecting to supplement the trashed, yet still evocative Pitchbury Ramparts this morning. To be fair, the 'Iron Age' origin of Erbury has yet to be conclusively determined, in no small part due to the incredibly rich history of occupation at the site. Hey, tell me about it.... notably the home of Aelfric, a prominent Saxon thane and son of Withgar (according to the Wikki... oh, and some 'Domesday Book', or other), no doubt the enclosure was also utilised in some respect by the powerful Norman interloper de Clare, whose motte and bailey castle once controlled the River Stour south of the church (surprise, surprise)... and who 'generously' gave his name to the town. Later, the site was incorporated within the medieval common, still extant, the majority of interior detail apparently dating from this time. In short, quite a challenge for archaeologists seeking answers, methinks? However.....
A field survey/magnometric scan conducted during 1993 determined that 'the stratigraphy of the earthworks confirms the likelihood of a prehistoric origin.' [Clare Camp: An Archaeological Survey by the Royal Commission on the Historical Monuments of England, September to October 1993, Archive Report, p15]
More recently, construction work at Clare Primary School in 2009 discovered postholes/a ring ditch of a late Bronze/Early Iron Age structure nearby [Suffolk Institute of Archaeology & History, Vol XLII Part 2].
It also has to be said that it looks very much like an Iron Age defensive enclosure, too. Particularly if, having seen many examples upon his travels, this punter is not put out by a less than perfect strategic placement... to my mind defence was but one consideration to be taken into account by the Iron Age planners - albeit a very important one - the metaphysical requirements seemingly just as important. No doubt the priests' voices were heard loud and clear, the proximity of the Stour and its tributaries perhaps rendering their views decisive?
The enclosure would appear to be (at least at the best preserved northern and southern flanks) powerfully bi-vallate, the eastern and northern banks now encroached upon by the houses of the town which outgrew their protection. Only to the west are the defences badly eroded, to the point of partial destruction. The common is alive with locals today, some walking dogs, some.... just walking. A black cat deems it necessary to sit upon the outer bank and keep a close eye upon me, 'yoofs' on bikes deciding the man taking pictures of 'nothing but the sky' is not worth challenging. Yeah, impressive as Erbury's earthworks are, they pale into insignificance beneath the towering magnificence of the winter sky.... then there are the snowdrops sheltering from the sunlight beneath the eastern bank.... awaiting Spring.
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This is another of the great Essex hillforts to which the Essex general public are actively denied access by the land owner; most, in all probability, therefore having no idea such priceless, tangible links to our past still exist... cloaked as they are within their mantles of trees. Some may argue the 'ordinary' punter wouldn't care if they were aware, but I like to think the people of Essex have more class than that. What a crying shame, therefore, that we tolerate laws which allow such a state of affairs to persist in the so-called 'enlightened' 21st century.... statutes which grant land owners absolution from moral responsibility to the community in this respect. Guardians of sites on behalf of their neighbours and anyone with a love for this land? Ha! What an inconvenience that would be.
To be honest it is amazing that anything remains of Pitchbury Ramparts at all, the southern two thirds (or so) of the great, bi-vallate enclosure having been apparently ploughed to oblivion in the 1920's (according to Essex HER). After all, that's what we fought the Great War for... to preserve our identity, our heritage. Er... wasn't it? [update - to be fair, Rhiannon's comment to this fieldnote strongly suggests the active destruction of the site began somewhat earlier].
What does remain is an arc of double ramparts preserved in Pitchbury Wood to the north, the inner, again according to Essex HER, some 10ft high. Thankfully we know a little about the site thanks to a 'partial excavation' undertaken by Colchester Excavation Committee in 1973, the team recovering dating evidence in the form of Aylesford-Swarling La Tene III period pottery. It seems the dig followed the line of the laying of a gas pipeline.... again, you simply couldn't make it up....
As mentioned above, the remaining earthworks lie within the 'private' Pitchbury Wood, numerous abrupt notices making it clear visitors to this ancient site are not at all welcome. In retrospect I would suggest prospective visitors try calling upon the occupants of Woodhouse Farm since, not being comfortable with 'trespassing', I asked a local emerging from the direction of Scarlet's Farm... only to have the gentleman look at me with complete incomprehension and point me in the opposite direction. Yeah, such notices do little for vibe. The crystal clear winter sky that accompanies me today helps to compensate, however, sunlight throwing shadows of skeletal trees to accentuate the form of the earthworks which provide a good, sure footing for the former's root systems. Difficult to articulate, but there truly is something about wooded hillforts which captures me hook, line and sinker. Perhaps there is something relating to the 'ancient forest' retained deep within the folk memory, the legends of Herne and what-not all too easy to appreciate in such an environment.... shadows inhabiting a parallel world which has no physical 'substance', yet clearly exists. Or does it?
So.... bearing in mind the actute access issues... you will find the remains of this evocative Iron Age enclosure located a little south-west of Great Horkesley, a nice town with a couple of 'watering holes' for the thirsty (modern) antiquarian. Take the Old House Road from the A134 and park just right of where it meets Coach Road (incidentally both roads are signed for convenience), before heading south along the near flank of Pitchbury Wood. As mentioned, recent-looking signs make it all too clear the land is private..... but perhaps some things are just too important, you know? Once they are gone, they are gone. This ancient enclosure is hanging on in there. Just about.
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Of the four main ridges of The Black Mountains, rising from the fertile Usk valley in the south to terminate at the great northern escarpment in the... er .... north, the eastern-most is probably the most frequented nowadays. Whether this is the inevitable by product of said ridge rising between the wondrous Vale of Ewyas and the contrasting, yet superb Herefordshire plains, or the fact that it represents the Welsh/English border at this point, thus carrying the long distance Offa's Dyke path, is perhaps a moot point. For what it's worth, I reckon the latter, the myriad 'heads down' walkers striding along the central path surely unable to ascertain anything more than a perfunctory sense of 'place'. To achieve this the visitor, in my opinion, must 'leave the beaten track' in the most literal sense and head to the flanks.
Hatterrall Hill occupies the southern section of this high borderland, the landscape inexorably falling further away from the 2,000ft contour during the approach toward Abergavenny... only to rise up dramatically in the form of Mynydd Pen-y-fal just before the town. But that's another story. Here Cwm Iau forces the ridge to divide, the Offa's Dyke path continuing to the south. Venture to the south-west, however, and two obscure archaeological treasures await discovery. Or at least they would have if the Mam C and I had not lost ourselves - figuratively speaking, of course - in the environs of Black Darren last Easter, before being ushered from the mountain by a violent electrical storm. We therefore return today from the opposite direction, starting at the idyllic village of Cwmyoy. Parking is somewhat difficult here unless you know what you're doing. Needless to say... I don't... until informed by a passing local - within a worryingly large mechanical digger - that I'd be better off in a good spot just above (north) of the seriously wonky church. I take the, ahem, hint. Happy to oblige. From here a public footpath heads north, veering to the right beneath a towering crag, before resuming its course towards the farmhouse of Ty-Charles. Just beyond this isolated habitation turn left, then right - between parallel drystone walls - to ascend steeply to the crest of Hatterrall Hill rising above.
The retrospective views, these being The Black Mountains after all, are superb. But then you probably guessed that. It will probably also come as no surprise that the promontory fort's single line of defence isolates the site from the northern hinterland at the narrowest point of the ridge. Not daft, these people. This ensures that the enclosure is by far the largest we've yet encountered, the cross dyke quite a while a'coming. It is worth the wait, a great drystone mass of masonry which, although collapsed, remains impressive in its brute strength, despite all Mother Wales has seen fit to throw at it for a couple of millennia. Which is no doubt 'quite a lot'. To emphasise the point the weather deteriorates to rain, although thankfully the cloud base remains high, allowing us to enjoy the truly magnificent positionning of the fort. Yeah, the north-western terminus of the cross-wall possesses arguably the finest view of the Vale of Ewyas extant, a perfect spot for lunch. That to be had from the south-eastern opposite is not exactly lacking, either, the hillfort-cum-sacred hill Ysgyryd Fawr dominating the skyline with a finality far in excess of its modest elevation. This is the point where words become futile, to experience the moment everything.
The obscure, severely overgrown Garreg Las enclosure lies beyond grouse butts to the north. The latter represent tawrdy monuments to the ridiculous actions of ridiculous people. The former, however..... Coflein cites the enclosure as defensive in nature. The Mam C and I are in agreement... that we are not so sure. There is an aura here which suggests otherwise. Just a feeling in the wind and rain, you know?
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Foel Feddau, a nice medium sized hill (for Wales, anyway), lies upon the main east/west ridge of the legendary Mynydd Preseli. The summit is probably most easily attained from the B4329 at Bwlch Gwynt (windy pass) to the west... however, finding myself upon Foel Cwm-Cerwyn's grassy northern cairn - as you do, if partial to such things - the decision is simply whether to visit at all. Needless to say some fantastic winter light draws me in and I really have no choice... like a moth to the flame. Sure, the hillside may be all a'glow, but, seeing as I choose to abandon the main path and 'cut the corner' to the north-east, the only heat in evidence is that I generate myself as I stagger and stumble across the rough terrain.
As I draw nearer I'm still none the wiser as to the relative size of the Bronze Age cairn which surmounts Foel Feddau. It is only upon reaching the summit that the annoying walker's cairn is placed in proper perspective as a puny little construction set upon a massive, grassy monument. To be honest the grass mantle does make it somewhat hard to differentiate cairn from hillside at first, but several distinctly 'artificially placed' stones upon the flanks reveal the truth upon closer inspection. But don't take my word for it... Coflein reckons the monument '....still stands up to 3.4m high. (J.Wiles 26.02.02)'. Not sure what the dimensions of Foel Drygarn's (apparently now restored) trio are, but is this possibly Mynydd Preseli's finest cairn?
It is also a great viewpoint, the main treasures of the massif lying beyond Mynydd-bach to the east, the wondrous Mynydd Carningli and the coast to the north-west.... not to mention the landscape of Pentre Ifan, Bedd yr afanc and Craig Rhos y felin - the latter apparently the confirmed source of the bluestones - below to the north. That's just for starters, worthy of much more time than I have at my disposal. Incidentally RiotGibbon's 'wasp nest' was not in evidence... possibly dormant for winter, possibly abandoned? However I've seen a number occupying South Walian cairns, so don't hold me to that. I suggest any visitor respects the little blighters if he/she knows what's good for them!
All in all I reckon Foel Feddau's well worth the diversion, you might say... particularly if combined with a visit to Foel Cwm-Cerwyn.
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Mynydd Preseli... the very name evokes images of jagged, rocky outcrops looming over mist-wreathed slopes, shifting masses of vapour analogous to the metaphysical apparitions the human mind has always deemed appropriate to inhabit such locations. Is it any wonder this should be the case... when none other than the Stonehenge 'bluestones' originated here prior to their epic journey eastwards, although whether this involved extreme human agency or glaciation remains a hotly contested point. It's perhaps somewhat ironic, then, that it is the very absence of such mist - a (relatively speaking) high cloud base - which prompts a belated return to this wondrous place.
The majority of first time TMA visitors to Mynydd Preseli will no doubt - and with good reason - head for the central and eastern hills... for the iconic stone setting of Beddarthur, the trio of massive, Bronze Age cairns crowning the hillfort Foel Drygarn and... of course... Carn Menyn's legendary spotted dolerite. But what of the actual summit of the massif, Foel Cwm-Cerwyn? Granted, the OS map depicts a couple of ancient cairns upon its ridge, but seemingly nothing to warrant the not inconsiderable diversion from the aforementioned highlights. What's more Mynydd Preseli, like the majority of the (to my mind) comparable Dartmoor uplands, fails to reach the 'magic' 2,000ft altitude so beloved of hillwalkers. Suffice to say not high on most people's lists, then. It certainly didn't make it to the top of mine with a great deal of alacrity, but there you are. Better late than never, or so they say.
Parking to the approx south, near the entrance to Fronlas farm, I follow the signposted bridleway northwards towards prominent woodland, the peak - for want of a better word - rising shyly upon the left hand skyline. It looks like it will prove an easy ascent as I veer left at the trees before making the proverbial bee-line for the summit. In retrospect it is perhaps better to stick with the tree-line and follow it north, particularly since I encounter a couple of high barbed-wire fences and generally make a right 'pig's ear' of my approach. Eventually, however, both the summit and the promised monuments are attained, the wind, fierce and bitterly cold, making a complete mockery of any notion of this being 'easy'. Coflein cites three Bronze Age cairns at this brutally evocative, uncompromising spot.... I'm only aware of two during my visit, however, a large example crowned by an OS trig pillar upon a concrete base, overgrown with reeds and grasses which obscure form, and a substantial, grassy cairn a little to the north. The latter has a hollow summit featuring an internal stone slab, perhaps a remnant of the cist found upon the excavation of one of the trio, according to Coflein a cist containing an 'inverted urn cremation'. This monument also possesses what may be the remains of a kerb, two substantial orthostats upon the eastern arc and another to the west. Nice. Not to mention superb views eastwards across Cwm Garw to the heart of Preseli. Yeah, perhaps it is all in the mind, but this place truly sends shivers down the spine... could be the wind, I guess. But I reckon not.
There is more. A further large, apparently 'unopened' monument lies upon the lower northern ridge of the mountain. According to Coflein it is:
....flat-topped, sub-circular, measuring some18-19m in diameter and being 1.2-1.5m high, apparently undisturbed. (source Os495card; SN03SE12)'
As I sit upon this isolated grassy top, Foel Feddau's annoying walker's cairn rises in profile to the approx north-east. The map cites another ancient cairn beneath this modern desecration. But is it worth the detour? There's only one way to find out. Walk some more of Mynydd Preseli. What a drag.
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Membury Camp is one of those sites I've 'seen' many - goodness knows how many - times from the M4 services of the same name.... but never got around to visiting. Well, you know how it is? Probably not much there, better places on the 'list' etc.... However I decide to remedy that today, inspired, I guess, by tjj's images back in October. Which is what TMA is all about, is it not?
I approach from the north, so, leaving the M4 at Junction 14, I take the A338 toward Wantage, almost immediately turning left upon the B4000. At Lambourn Woodlands, where the b-road veers sharply right, continue upon a minor road past Fox Farm, parking at the entrance to a farm track on the left. Follow this, past a house, to pick up a public footpath crossing the M4 via - you'll no doubt be pleased to note - a bridge. The stony track continues, passing a prominent wood and with the nissen huts of the former RAF airfield to the left, towards another phalanx of trees concealing the hillfort. The track becomes path and, eventually, affords access to the enclosure. Jeez, it's a big one, Dyer quoting a very impressive 12 hectares, although I'm arguably more impressed by the sheer size of the defensive bank encountered by the traveller. Initially I take the enclosure to be bi-vallate - that is protected by two concentric banks; however Dyer cites the outer as being a counterscarp to the massive ditch. Whatever.... splitting hairs, perhaps.
As with all hillforts, the only real way to appreciate the form and substance of the defences is to walk them.... suffice to say, despite the vegetation being, relatively speaking, not that prohibitive - at least in winter - a circuit takes me over an hour, such is the circumference of this massive earthwork. In fact it is only the distant hum of the M4 which provides an indication of where exactly I am. Are we there yet? No. Are we there yet? Shut-up. Not that this is exactly a hardship, not with Nature having taken over the ramparts to do her thang, occasional pieces of flint lying provocatively upon the bank, as if to say 'for all you know I'm an ancient tool'. But therein lies the problem... I'm no expert. Sigh.
Following lunch, I'm just about to complete my second, and final circuit when the hitherto hidden, entirely unwelcome side of a visit to Membury raises its head. To be fair, I guess she was only doing her job, but I'm suddenly confronted by a 'plummy' middle-aged woman with dogs (I'd seen her about half an hour earlier and thought nothing of it - guess it took some time to summon the bravery to confront me, then... honestly). In short, it appears that I've strayed from the path (I know), that this is very bad (she has no answers to my demands to know why this should be and why the estate wish to forbid me access to my heritage) and that if 'security' catch me I'll be sorry. Oh dear, threats. I assure her I most certainly will not be - sorry that is - that I had no idea walking the ramparts was an issue (there are currently no signs or fences when approaching from the north) and as I've been on site for some three hours, 'security' aren't exactly a formidable unit, are they? I complete my exploration of the defences and have a wander inside the massive enclosure before leaving this exceptional hillfort.
So, there you are. Sadly it seems that here we have another 'high end' landowner who has a problem having a (very) fine example of England's heritage upon his/her land. How damn inconvenient, what? Now there are many ordinary - dare I say 'common' - landowners/ farmers throughout this land who, from experience, I know do not see this as an issue and consequently apply a morally decent attitude to access. Work with the people who want to see your stuff and attitudes invariably improve on both sides, do they not? Yeah, I know. It's plain common sense. Unfortunately such intelligent reasoning, although prevalent somewhere as off the beaten track as the environs of Loch Fyne, for example, does not appear to have caught on yet at Membury. Guess it takes time to filter down....
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Following a morning's (11/9/11) tough walkabout in the vicinity of the Afon Arban, south of Claerwen (no megaliths, but some things need to be done), the intriguing 'trio' of cairns depicted by our OS friends upon Carn Gafallt finally make it to the top of 'the list'. 'Lucky us', I can almost hear the resident spirits of the ancestors groan. Or is that just a combination of an overactive mind and the admittedly strong wind playing the usual tricks? Yeah, let's go with the latter.
So, no evidence for any 'insubstantial' friends, then, although the adjective could well be employed to describe the mind - for want of a better word - of a muppet farmer who stops his land rover, winds down the window and attempts to stare me down as I make a three point turn near Blaen-y-cwm. What is it with these people? Banjo duels at dawn...... Needless to say us TMA-ers are made of sterner stuff... and I won't back down, particularly since I haven't a clue what I've supposed to have done wrong. But there you are. For the record (Tom Petty comes to mind, by the way) a car can be parked, without causing any obstruction, near a corrugated iron-roofed barn at approx SN940641, a little west(ish) of Talwrn farm. Take the public footpath opposite (north), which veers left, then right to arc through the woodland of Coed Bwlch-glas. A little beyond, the cairns stand, unseen, surmounting the steep hillside above to the left. The official route exits the trees before doubling back along the crest of the ridge to the north-west... assuming an encounter with a moron farmer doesn't encourage the traveller to undertake any deviations, that is.
Whatever route you take to the substantial cairns, however, be sure to schedule an audience if you are in the area.... since the setting of the monuments is class, if not classic. No, I reckon it is the latter, come to think of it. Incidentally Coflein reckons there may actually be five, not three cairns upon this windswept ridge, possibly once connected by a drystone wall, of all things? Apparently some of the cairns are co-joined, although the ravaged interiors and deep heather made this unclear. Well, at least to me. However never let it be said that the ancient occupants of Wales were anything but original. Idiosyncratic, too, particularly the manner in which the summit of Carn Gafallt, rising some way to the north-west, is ignored in favour of linear escarpment edge placement. Yeah, although the highest point was clearly not of specific importance, it is very difficult to believe that the vistas to be had from the site were not. Look to almost every point of the compass (save the north, where the bulk of the hillside obscures, albeit with numerous natural 'mounds' in evidence) and hilltops bearing Bronze Age cairns stand as far as the eye can see..... Y Gamriw to the south (must revisit), Drum Ddu to south-east, Drygarn Fawr and Gorllwyn to south-east... even a stone row upon Rhos-y-Gelynnen to west.
Why, there's even an apparent stone circle upon Allt Goch across the valley. Guess I'll need to come back, then?
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The 'green desert' of Mid Wales - that wild expanse of high moor stretching north of Llandovery to Pumlumon - has altered somewhat since our Bronze Age forebears erected their hill top cairns in veneration of their dead, the most obvious change, the creation of the massive reservoirs of Cwm Elan and Llyn Brianne.... although forestry is also much in evidence. This recent adaptation of the landscape to support an evolving way of life has not been unflattering to the eye, although, of course, there are other criteria to consider when evaluating the overall impact of the relatively recent actions of humankind. However, from a purely aesthetic viewpoint, my judgement is that these hills, although demanding, offer much to the prehistorically-inclined walker prepared to venture off the 'beaten track'. The highest summits of Drygarn Fawr and Gorllwyn, both crowned by Bronze Age cairns and rising to the north-east of the attractive Irfon pass (north-west of the small hamlet of Abergwesyn) will probably top the list of TMA-ers making an initial sortie into the locality. However note that the ascent of both is problematic due to the more-or-less trackless terrain and subsequent extreme navigational issues prevalent in poor weather. Hence the considerably easier/safer route to the summit barrow of Pen-y-Gurnos could well be a fine, introductory alternative, particularly since it features excellent views of Cwm Doethie, arguably the jewel in the region's crown.
Strong walkers, upon studying the map, may wish to start from the west, near the Youth Hostel of Ty'n-y-cornel, this presenting the option of exploring the enigmatic, prehistoric complex upon Bryn y Gorlan beforehand... not to mention a walk beside the Afon Doethie. However, poor weather having vetoed a proposed attempt upon Pumlumon today (10/9/11), I approach from the north. The isolated chapel of Soar y Mynydd is the key here, accessible by mountain road beyond the north-western 'tentacle' of Llyn Brianne. Ignore the obvious track ascending the hillside to the west (this will bring you back again if you take the circular option and visit Carn Saith-wraig) and instead head to the south-east upon another substantial track above the waters of the Camddwr. Keep your eyes peeled for a sluice gate upon the river and ascend the hillside to the right in the direction of Nant Llwyd farm, this bridleway continuing all the way to the escarpment edge overlooking the Afon Doethie... a wonderful viewpoint. The summit of Pen-y-Gurnos, surmounted by its monument, in turn supporting an OS trig point, can be attained without too much effort by traversing the hillside to the left at this point (to approx south).
The round barrow is by no means an overbearing monument, but nonetheless remains relatively substantial, with traces of kerb a welcome, surviving feature. Needless to say, however, it is the location which takes the proverbial biscuit, endowing the site with, oh, ooodles of vibe, fast moving weather fronts adding that extra authentic 'Welshness' to the experience. Forestry restricts views to the south, but this is of little consequence since the primary focus is - and I would assume always has been - the beautiful gorge carved by the Afon Doethie. Hell, I'd seriously doubt if the natural, abrasive action of flowing water has resulted in more sublime contours in a landscape anywhere else? There is nothing to do except plonk myself upon the ancient barrow and enjoy the silence which pervades this isolated corner of wildest Wales. Not sure if George Borrow ever came here. But if not, he should've. Bryn y Gorlan rises upon the north-western skyline.... but, needless to say, I still haven't the foggiest what went on there. Pen-y-Gurnos is made of simpler 'stuff'. If ever such nebulous material could ever be described as simple.
Two further examples of substantial - if ravaged - Bronze Age cairns lie beyond the ascent track to the approx north-west at Carn Saith-wraig, albeit obscured by high ground. This latter is fenced, although I was able to make my way without excessive problems to connect - following a sojourn at the cairns - with a byway leading east back to Soar y Mynydd (as mentioned earlier). Well worth the additional effort. Yeah, closing the circle is always worthwhile.....
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As Carl notes, the simplest manner to visit this overgrown, slumbering giant of an enclosure is via the caravan park immediately to the west. However - for me - the promontory / cliff forts which grace this Glamorgan coastline are far and away best approached from water's edge. So, particularly following on from a visit to the unique Sully Island, that is what I must do this Boxing Day afternoon. Romantic fool, that I am.
The initial approach in the car is not especially salubrious..... via the perimeter road to the east of Cardiff International Airport, near Rhoose. However, upon reaching the tiny settlement of Porthceri, the visitor is suddenly transported back to an era where gentlemen emerged, 'glistening', from lakes and ladies had heaving bosoms laced up in their undergarments. Oh, and the peasants did as they were bloody well told, no doubt. Or something like that. Anyway, there is room to park near the church - no cucumber sandwiches on offer, though - from where a public footpath leads down the left hand of private drives to descend, steeply and with much mud, through woodland to a golf course beneath an impressive viaduct. Advance to the foreshore - dodging any bloody golf balls - and follow the coastline around to the right until a little before the point where the cliffs of the promontory tower above; here a path ascends the wooded, lower slopes to the interior of The Bulwarks, following the line of the south-eastern defences in the latter stages.
Upon arrival within the enclosure the immediate impression is that of 'so what?, an interpretation not countermanded by several electrical pylon-wotsits standing in the north-eastern corner. Don't be put off, though.... since the far treeline conceals some pretty substantial tri-vallate earthen banks. The most impressive of these are to the west, terminating at cliff-edge to the south and easily seen by following the footpath to the left towards the caravan park. The northern arc, although much more overgrown and thus less defined, is nonetheless still substantial. As is the eastern/south-eastern flank. Sadly, however, this last section has clearly been treated appallingly, not only having the aforementioned electrical pylons inserted - and being allowed to become completely overgrown - but also acting as a hang-out for local 'yoofs'.... consequently much litter is to be seen, a general feeling of 'who gives a damn?' hanging in the air. Yeah, there is a definite aura of melancholia in evidence here as I force my way through the gorse (and other such prickly, thorny stuff) in the gathering, drizzly gloom. Nevertheless the earthworks, despite such ill treatment, remain as mute testament to this coastline's rich ancient heritage. If only the locals could grasp what they have upon their cliff-top. If only. Speaking of 'cliff tops', that to the south obviously rendered any artificial defences there superfluous.
So, yeah, a visit to The Bulwarks will probably not need to be filed in the TMA 'classic' folder.... needless to say it's not in mine. But an approach from the seashore adds a touch of preceding drama to a viewing of some pretty substantial defences of what was once a major Iron Age site. Now, of course, The Bulwarks is engaged in a new battle for its very survival. The enemy is formidable.... that of apathy and ignorance
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Wandering down for a quick look whilst visiting the impressive Old Harlow round barrow on New Year's Day....well, it'd be rude not to... I'm sad to relate there is as 'unvibey' a feeling upon this waste ground as you might find behind a block of flats on a council estate in London. To be honest, the clearly relatively recent 'landscaping / contouring' makes the traveller think 'surely not?' at the outset.
Unfortunately it appears that Essex HER agree, an opinion based upon some solid fieldwork, however. To quote SMR 7268:
'Site de-scheduled October 2008 as no longer regarded as a cursus.Field survey and trial trenching was completed in order to evaluate the impact of unauthorised re-contouring groundworks upon it. This archaeological work was undertaken by the Essex County Council Field Archaeology Unit at the request of English Heritage. It consisted of a site walk-over inspection, collection of spot height data and the excavation of trenches across the plotted position of the cropmark and the area to its immediate west. The principal objectives of the work were to establish the presence of the cursus monument and to assess the extent of any damage which may have been caused to it.
The archaeological fieldwork identified the presence of prehistoric and Early Saxon remains,but no trace of the putative cursus. It also established that there had been relatively little deep and extensive truncation of archaeological remains across the majority of the scheduled area, and that the groundworks had largely comprised the removal and the stockpiling of topsoil. However, general compaction, disturbance and rutting caused by the movement of heavy plant were observed on the exposed surface that is likely to have had an adverse impact upon below-ground remains present. It is concluded that the cursus had never been present and that the linear 'cropmark' features evident on aerial photographs, from which it is was identified, are more likely to have been modern-day tracks, footpaths or other wear marks on the field surface.'
So, in all probability not a cursus, then? Curses! However note the stated presence of 'prehistoric' remains..... so something WAS going on here, near the barrow, in ancient times. But what? As usual we clear up one mystery - albeit unsatisfactorily from a TMA point of view - and create another. Right on!
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Boxing Day morning under a leaden, South Walian sky, with cloud base low enough to prevent fleeing to the hills, is not the most inspiring of times, it has to be said. Only one thing for it, then.... to paraphrase the lovely Cerys Matthews... 'Things are strange, I'm starting to worry. This could be a case of going to Sully'. Well, my mum's always said I'm a bit like Mulder from the X-Files. Not sure if that's a compliment or not, to be honest.
Sully Island is another of those locations which may well take those unfamiliar with the delights of The Glamorgan coastline by surprise, set as it is between the capital city (to the north) and Barry Island (think Gavin and Stacy, if you must) to the west. With due respect to the locals, I'm sure they'd agree scenic beauty wouldn't be the first topic of conversation when mentioning the locality... nevertheless it is here. There is also danger for the unwary in the form of one of the highest tidal ranges in Britain (my thanks to the Mam C's husband - who works nearby - for that nugget of information, duly exposing my general ignorance of local marine matters). To be fair, the prominent signs round about make this crystal clear. People have drowned crossing to Sully Island. Simple as that.
Initially there doesn't seem any chance of me getting more than a distant view of the 'promontory' fort occupying the left hand (eastern) portion of the island, as viewed from the quayside. Yeah, the tide is right in, the island, well.... an island. However the sun pokes from behind the cloud mantle, encouraging me to take a few shots from the beach. Then, wandering down the breakwater - as you do - I have the crazy (and no doubt suicidally dangerous) idea that it might be possible to wade. However, clearly, it would be impossible to venture further without coffee, so a return to the car is required. Several minutes later the decision is academic, a broad causeway of rock now linking island to shore. Jeez. That is fast.
Passing Carl's skeletal boat, I head eastwards along the island, the far (southern) flank of which is being inexorably smashed to oblivion by the Bristol Channel.... fort 'n all. Guess the sea wants Sully Island back, then. Coflein reckons there are three cross-ramparts isolating the far eastern section of the island from the hinterland, although I can only positively identify two. These are quite substantial, relatively speaking, although considerably overgrown with brambles - and, sadly, featuring quite a bit of rubbish. The highest point of the enclosure is crowned by what I take to possibly be the remains of a Bronze Age round barrow. Surprisingly, Coflein (very) tentatively agrees. If we are correct, it is a suitable location for VIP burial, with the natural, craggy defences of the fort falling way sharply to the water, the sea views expansive towards Flat Holm etc. Looking to the south along the disintegrating, southern flank the view is more industrial, with Barry's factory chimneys lying beyond the sound. Yeah, times have changed since people actually occupied this spot. But it still remains an extraordinary place to eat Boxing Day lunch. And that's a fact. No need to get Mulder and Scully onto Sully to solve that one.
Just make sure you keep one eye permanently upon that crazy tide!
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It's truly sad when unsavoury, extraneous events overshadow a visit to a site. But, hey, these things happen within a flawed society such as ours, do they not? Tell me about it. Quite how we can (rightly) demonise moronic hooligans for rampaging in our city centres when the so called 'higher echelons' (ha!) act like mindless, sub-humans... having a jolly good time hunting a creature to its death for FUN ... is beyond me. It really is. Evil is as evil does, Forrest. It therefore makes my skin crawl to have to share the environs of Coedcae Gaer with such fox hunting degenerates this Christmas Eve afternoon.
There are two saving graces, however. Firstly, the fox doubles back away from the pursuing creatures, paradoxically sat astride beautiful mounts, and casts me a glance as he/she tries to save itself, proceeding to lead them a merry dance in the process. Yeah, a flawed, instinctive executioner when loose in the chicken coop - I doubt if many would blame a farmer blasting the fox with his shotgun on sight - but civilised human beings are supposed to know better than to engage in sheer, retributive blood lust, are we not? QED! I give you the fox hunter! And you can keep 'em the hell away from me upon a public common. Can we stop the cavalry this Christmas? Seems not, my friends. Seems not.
With apologies for the above.... the second saving grace is the unexpected quality of the hillfort of Coedcae Gaer. A little to the north-east of the great urban sprawl that is Bridgend, it's taken me years to find this, so my thanks to the two TMA'ers to proceed me here. The setting is fine, a typical South Walian coastal juxtaposition of industry and sweeping, green hillside, the latter prevalent to the north where the Nant Ciwc has carved the deep valley of Cwm Rhydymilwyr. Phalanxes of wind turbines dominate the summit of Mynydd Maendy to the north-east, the ridge, according to the map, also boasting a 'tumulus'. Another, smaller 'enclosure' sits above Hoel-y-Cyw some way to the west. Far to the south, the Glamorgan coastline is crowned by a myriad promontory 'cliff forts'. Clearly there was a lot going on in ancient times...
So much for the location. The earthworks are pretty good, too. No, they're better than that, the univallate defences rising to an impressive 3m in places, a counterscarp duly emphasising the ditch. Unfortunately a double barbed-wire fence impedes access, and, seeing as the farmer is on site (at least I think it's the farmer, maybe not), I'm forced to have a conversation. Needless to say he's not aware this is a 'hillfort'. But then perhaps that is not so surprising....
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I first came to South Weald Camp to see the ramparts adorned with the bluebells of Spring... unfortunately, however, I left knowing that I would have to return at some point in order to settle unfinished business. If you've read the miscellaneous post you'll be aware that this Late Iron Age enclosure has not had an easy ride into the 21st Century. Far from it. Now medieval alterations, I can accept.... but a cricket pitch occupying the eastern half of an Essex plateau fort? Do me a favour. People supposedly intelligent enough to play cricket should really know better, should they not? Having said that, though, this Modern Antiquarian should have had the balls to highlight this discrepancy back in April. But, to my shame, I bottled it and went away with the job half done.
Consequently I engineer the return home this New Year's Day - following a morning at Old Harlow's fine round barrow - so as to pass through Brentwood. A little before the town a minor road leaves the A128 to literally bisect South Weald Camp. It is possible to park just south of the enclosure, from whence a rather idiosyncratic stile affords a visit to the western half of the camp. To avail yourself of the eastern half, walk back up the road and make for the cricket club pavilion, G&Ts at the ready. As it happens, today being New Year's Day and all, there is no one around. So I reckon no-one is therefore going to mind me having a quick look at my local heritage. A metal gate to the south gives access to a muddy track following the outside perimeter of the camp. Although badly damaged, the south-eastern arc of the bank is still pretty substantial... the eastern defences more so, although possible medieval amendments should be bourne in mind, I guess. Only to the north is the bank truly trashed, having the indignity of being sandwiched between practice cricket nets. Howzat? Very nearly 'out'. But not quite.
It begins to rain... as forecasted.... and then, to all intents and purposes, monsoon. Which I don't recall being mentioned. But there you are. Nevertheless I can't leave without another visit to the western half of the camp, if only for the sake of continuity. No bluebells on this occasion, the ramparts rising stark within the landscape, trees offering skeletal profiles in Winter raiment. My dodgy 'hillfort-allocation' waterproofs begin to give way under the prolonged onslaught of the rain. But it is of little consequence. I am happy I've now seen the whole picture, as it were.
Yeah, poor South Weald Camp may have been dealt a poor hand by fate, but I reckon it's still well worth an hour or so of anyone's time.
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'All is quiet on New Year's Day'... so sang that wee Irish fella, Bono... before he began hanging out with politicians, saving the world and indulging in other such important matters. Not to mention wearing silly specs. But I guess his heart's in the right place, a bit like the Bronze Age round barrow at Old Harlow, despite a continual cacophony of noise from the nearby kennels rendering the opening line of U2's seasonal song fanciful, at best.
Last year's ongoing attempt to discover more of my ancient Essex heritage somehow did not include a visit to Harlow... what with the mighty Wallbury just up the road. So what better time to remedy that omission than on the first day of the new year? As with most Essex monuments, the Old Harrow barrow is tucked away from the gaze of the passing motorist, although whether such seclusion mirrors its erectors' original intention is perhaps something we will never know. Was there always a screen of foliage adding a veneer of mystery to the site, the lowland equivalent of the mountain top cairn being set back from the skyline? Or were these great earthern barrows meant to act as a beacon, dominating the landscape?
Upon arrival, my first impression is that the mound is a lot more substantial than I anticipated [hopefully the scale image gives a good indication], both in respect of height and area covered. Several trees have made the ancient soil their home, the radiating branches of one such youngster curiously reminding me of a natural representation of Bryn Cader Faner. The summit is covered by bramble, although not to an excessive extent, the western flanks more or less clear, allowing space to sit and take in the surroundings. A large pond - or small lake - to the east adds a water feature, although a 'work shop' area of some description to the north might be an issue on other days. The aforementioned hounds eventually shut up, the only disturbance then the occasional, friendly local passing by, together with cars in the middle distance. Beyond, upon waste ground to the south-west(ish), air photography had apparently highlighted what was thought to be the course of a cursus, perhaps the least understood of all monuments. I take a look, but see nothing. Perhaps this is not surprising since Essex HER now reckons the linear crop marks probably represent much more recent 'tracks'. More's the pity.....
Access to the Old Harlow Barrow is easy.... once you've sorted somewhere to park, that is. From Junction 7 of the M11 take the A414 towards Harlow. At the fourth roundabout (with school to the right) turn right upon the B183 (Gilden Way) and, beyond another roundabout, the site is within trees a little to the right, beside a public footpath. I carried on a little further and parked down the next left, walking back. Note that there is 'official' access, so no need to climb any fences. Happy New Year!
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Arenig Fach is always going to remain in the shadow of its big sister across Llyn Celyn, the latter attracting far more visitors, assuming my own experiences - not to mention inclusion within numerous guide books - are reasonably representative. Such is life, I guess. We're never going to overcome the general human tendency to believe that 'biggest is best', to take things (and situations) at face value. And, of course, Arenig Fawr is a fine mountain, crowned by the remains of a Bronze Age cairn and dominating the shoreline of the reservoir, whilst the smaller peak is all but invisible to the passing motorist upon the A4212. All I'm saying is that Arenig Fach is very much worth primary focus as well, providing a much more intimate experience, with no reduction in quality of landscape... just on a somewhat smaller scale. To prove the point, take the (very) minor road traversing The Migneint (literally, 'The Bog') to descend towards the Machno valley... where the mountain suddenly takes Centre Stage, as if this brutal, hostile - not to mention wet! - landscape and the peak are inextricably linked. From this direction it's hard to see how any 'stonehead' would not want to see the Bronze Age cairn upon THAT?
Suffice to say I have wanted to return ever since a short visit way back in 1995. But then you never seem to get around to things, do you? Carnedd Llewelyn may have usurped perfect conditions for a visit the day before, but for some reason I simply must see Carnedd y Bachgen before I return home. Hell, the weather doesn't look that bad today. Does it?
It has to be said that, despite rising to the relatively modest height of 2,260ft, Arenig Fach does not tolerate visitors lightly. A-ha! Perhaps that's why it receives so few, then? The first problem, appropriately enough, occurs right at the start.... where to begin? Unless you are a fan of long distance bog bashing - and fancy following the Afon Serw to approach from the north-west (I'm not) - the only real, practical option that I'm aware of is from the A4212, near the north-western tip of Llyn Celyn. Driving north, I park at the entrance to a concrete track [at approx SH413845] and take a very obscure (unsigned) public footpath opposite a corrugated iron sheepfold, a little north of a prominent waterside boulder, just before power lines cross the road. Advance uphill, with pylons rising above to right and left, cross a lateral footpath and.... basically..... continue roughly uphill to the west, keeping north of Beudy Fron-wen. At (very approximately) SH840413, I chance upon what looks to me a possible trashed, round cairn, or perhaps hut circle? Maybe. Needless to say, what with fence posts piled on top of what looked like the remnants of a cist, the site - if indeed it is a monument - is in a very sorry condition. A small, ruined, drystone structure stands forlornly to my left, a substantial drystone wall impedes progress westwards (there's a gap a little to the south) towards the ridge of Bryn Du. Skirting the high ground to the right, I eventually arrive at the hidden jewel that is Llyn Arenig Fach, just as the sun breaks through the overcast mantle to flood the landscape with light, drab colours suddenly metamorphosised into hues of indescribable intensity. Worth the effort alone, despite the cloud base which is now swirling across the crest of the majestic cliffline which towers above the lake. This crest must now be attained.
The obvious route is to ascend by a fenceline to the left [although the right hand option is probably easier in retrospect], not as easy as it at first appears, the terrain deep heather, concealing many an ankle twisting undulation. Eventually I reach the top and realise how far conditions have deteriorated, particularly in respect of the wind. Pretty bad. However Carnedd y Bachgen calls and I've a fence line as a guide. I follow this to a junction with another, cross over as best I can and head approx westwards to the summit and the Bronze Age cairn. Although clearly heavily robbed - there's an dry-stone shelter at the actual summit, together with an OS trig point - the monument remains impressive, utilising the form of the crag upon which it stands in the same manner as Foel Grach, and to equally great effect. The interior of the cairn is somewhat camouflaged by moss, but nonetheless appears somewhat hollow, albeit with some substantial stones in situ. Yeah, I'm glad I came. Trouble is, Nature appears progressively peeved by the impertinence of my presence......
Sure, the wind is severe, the lowland drizzle transformed into horizontal, lashing rain. But, hey.... this is Wales. So I'm not expecting to be picked up and dumped unceremoniously on my back as I attempt to venture towards the trig! Point taken, mam. Subsequently I decide the best place to be is on my back within the cairn to see if this front will pass and afford me the views I crave. It doesn't and I am therefore denied the vistas, too. It's also somewhat difficult to eat lunch, but I refuse, on point of principle, to use the shelter. Oh no. If you talk the talk, you have to walk the walk. And besides... Carnedd y Bachgen is incredibly, evocatively ethereal today, what with the mist swirling around. Eventually, however, I must begin the descent, shaken and most definitely - definitively, even - stirred. But the waterproofs hold and, after pausing lakeside to reflect upon past times with mum and dad, I reach the car none the worse for wear.
So, yes. Arenig Fach is very much worth the effort. Even in some of the worst conditions Snowdonia can throw at the traveller.... I reckon you can suss why this isolated summit was chosen as 'somewhere special'. Quite simply, it is.
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As alluded to in previous fieldnotes, it is perhaps somewhat ironic that the great, domed summit plateau of Carnedd Llewelyn is not crowned by a monument more 'worthy' of the position.... particularly bearing in mind the association with the Princes Llewelyn (never been quite sure which was given the honour, if not both?) and the much more substantial cairn gracing Foel Grach, below to the north. But there you are. The Bronze Age peoples of Snowdonia did behave in strange and wondrous ways, did they not? And, of course, the Carnedd Llewelyn cairn has undoubtedly suffered far more erosion from the boots of walkers than the much more obscurely sited Foel Grach monument, not only surmounting the highest peak of Y Carneddau, but also standing at the 'crossroads' of four of the range's main ridges. Yeah, it was a suitable spot, all right.
I reckon most aficionados of the mountain would agree that the most exciting route to the summit is via Pen Yr Ole Wen, the most taxing probably the very long approach from Bont Newydd to the north. Another possibility, however, is a high level circuit of Cwm Eigiau. I arrived by way of the northern arc of this last option this time around, via a very worthwhile diversion to Foel Grach en-route, descending in more or less the same manner.
Carnedd Llewelyn's Bronze Age cairn surveys a brutal landscape of rock. Gone are the grassy, whaleback ridges of the northern Carneddau, the main ridge, connecting the sentinel peak to its neighbour, Carnedd Dafydd, narrow and precipitous in comparison, anticipating Tryfan and Y Glyderau across the Ogwen valley. Ha! This truly is a warrior's grave, a spot suitable for martial heroes hewn out of the metaphorical granite. Hell, for Arthur himself, even. Never mind Llewelyn. All is on a grand scale... save the cairn itself... the towering crags of Ysgolion Duon ('The Black Ladders') visible across Cwm Llafar to the south west, the be-cairned summit of Carnedd Dafydd rising above; the vistas stretching to all points of the compass, none more so than toward a veritable tsunami of cloud pouring over Tryfan to periodically engulf me, sat upon this stone pile, in clammy, opaque vapour. I feel terribly vulnerable (Carnedd Llewelyn is notoriously difficult to navigate from in mist, so please have your compass bearings to hand), yet paradoxically more alive than I've probably ever been, at least in recent memory. The cloud suddenly disperses, as if a drawn up by an unseen, giant hand, leaving a 'Brocken Spectre' of myself in the void above Ffynnon Llyffant. It is a special moment. Yeah, clearly it's not the size, but where you put it that counts. At least in respect of Bronze Age cairns....
Another possible funerary cairn - Tristan's - (again attributed much folklore) lies below, to the south-east, above the source of the Afon Llugwy. There is a further, more certain example gracing the summit of Pen Llithrig Y Wrach, beyond Pen Yr Helgi Du. These monuments lie upon the second half of the Cwm Eigiau skyline route. However I do not have the stamina today - and probably will never have again - so consequently must return the way I have come. In many respects this is a blessing in disguise since I'm thus able to truly chill out (tell me about it... it's freezing) upon this fabulous mountain top for an extended period. Nothing to do but simply use my senses. There is an awful lot to perceive, it has to be said. Little details, like the cairn footprint suggesting an orientation toward Carnedd Dafydd... to pondering the biggest questions of all.
According to author Terry Marsh (as related within his guide 'The Mountains of Wales') there exists in Los Angeles (of all places) a religious sect which believes that Carnedd Llewelyn is one of nineteen 'holy mountains' throughout the world to endow the visitor with 'cosmic energy' enabling him/her to give enlightenment and unselfish service to mankind. Hmm. I'll keep an open mind in that respect.... and would like to find out who they are and on what basis they think that.... but I have to admit a visit to Carnedd Llewelyn is memorable, to say the least. Probably need to work on the altruism, though.
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Pumlumon... and the Cwmdeuddwr Hills rising above Elan... may well share the distinction of forming Wales' true wilderness, Y Rhinogydd that of possessing, arguably, her roughest, most uncompromising terrain... but I reckon Y Carneddau is the premier mountain group in the land, all things considered. Its summits also play host to Wales' - if not the UK's (?) - most extremely sited Bronze Age cemetery. It is a potent combination, providing all the more reason for the megalithically-minded traveller to pay a visit, in search of that psychological 'essence' which prompted our ancestors to intern their VIP dead in such places. If it is indeed retained somewhere in the modern psyche, where better to unlock the mind?
Perhaps it is no coincidence that, like Pumlumon, Wales' other - and to my mind finest - great upland Bronze Age cemetery, Y Carneddau does not advertise its attributes to the passer by.... the soaring crags, deep rocky cwms, isolated mountain tarns - even Yr Elen, the crown jewel - are all cradled within, hidden from the prying eyes of the casual tourist. Yeah, one has to actually walk the great whaleback ridges to discover what lies between. Consequently it is the brash Glyderau, the incomparable bravado of Tryfan to the fore, and Snowdon (Itself) which grab the attention and the plaudits, Y Carneddau remaining a mysterious, secret land, an unknown quantity to all but those who don the boots. The 'lost world' aura is all too often accentuated by the mist which rolls, unhindered, across the high, domed tops. At times like these it is advisable to keep well away... for route finding becomes a very serious business indeed.
So, what of the ancient cairns which crown a significant number of the Carneddau's high summits? Arguably the finest, albeit restored following excavation, is that upon Drosgl to the north. However the monument which stands upon the brutal, windswept, 3,196ft summit of Foel Grach is perhaps not only the hardest to reach, but also that which - for me - best embodies the primeval 'essence' alluded to earlier, that which maybe invokes the instinctive 'intuition' signifying that here is the perfect location to perhaps enter an altered state of consciousness, to use parts of the brain not normally utilised in order to attempt to perceive something out of the ordinary. Whether this is due to shortness of breath, reduced oxygen levels, sheer fatigue, autosuggestion.... wishful thinking, even... I cannot say? What I can say is that these places affect me. Deeply.
Although approaching something like 2m in height, the great Foel Grach cairn does not dominate its surroundings like other such monuments. The scale of the latter is perhaps too great, the eye drawn across the boulder-strewn summit plateau to the striking Yr Elen across Cwm Caseg to the west.... and towards the Menai Straits, sparkling beyond the be-cairned northern ridge of Y Carneddau to the approx north-east. To the east, the cliff line of Craig y Dulyn conceals a pair of reservoirs at its foot, two of the darkest, most secretive pools of water in all Wales, the valley of the Afon Conwy and the Great Orme crowning the skyline. To the north-west there is an uninterrupted view towards an ancient settlement sited below Gryn Wigau.... the former inhabitants perhaps the people who erected this monument.... although, admittedly, there is another such settlement below to the east at Pant-y-Griafolen? Finally, Carnedd Llewleyn, summit peak of Y Carneddau rises to the south bearing the highest surviving monument in Wales. Jeez, this is some spot. If insight can be forthcoming, 'tis the place alright. Whether the individual can make any sense of what he feels today... is another matter entirely.
Perhaps the most straightforward route to visit the Foel Grach cairn is to start from the small car park north of Llyn Eigiau and follow Cefn Tal-llyn-Eigiau to the col between the peak and Carnedd Llewelyn. A well graded, green track affords a good beginning, the traveller gaining the ridge by way of an obscure path just beyond a ladder stile. Alternatively stick with the green track all the way to Melynllyn, ascending direct to the summit to the right of the lake, although admittedly very steeply. I took the latter option this time, carrying on to Carnedd Llewleyn and returning via Cefn Tal-llyn-Eigiau. It is also possible to descend from Carnedd Llewelyn - incidentally via Tristan's Cairn - to Pen-yr-Helgi-Du and Pen Llithrig-y-Wrach (the latter also crowned by a Bronze Age cairn), so completing the high level circuit of Cwm Eigiau. However at some 11 miles, this is a serious walk indeed. Check the map... there are other options, too.
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Citizen Cairn'd....... every monument blows me away... but in particular those highland piles of stone. Visiting them, I think, helps ensure those ancient Bronze Age pilgrimages remain relevant, even in this so called 'modern age'. And hell, it makes me feel good, truly alive, on top of the world in the most literal sense... at one with Nature. If this sounds trite, perhaps it is. But nonetheless there are occasions I concur with Elizabeth I's last words... 'All my possessions for a moment of time'.
Suffice to say mine is therefore not an exercise in dryly cataloguing sites for the benefit of future generations - as much as I might try I haven't yet been able to embrace altruism to that extent - but rather an attempt to try and reconcile why I am so incredibly moved by these constructions of stone and/or earth representing a time when everything was, by all accounts, literally a matter of life and death. Yeah, just as an empty house appears to retain echoes of past humanity... the raw emotion that apparently sets us apart as a species... so does the stone circle, the chambered cairn, the long barrow and the mountain top funerary cairn. We may be able to only guess what forms the human interaction may have took - but clearly it mattered. A lot.
I make no special claim for my contributions, particularly since the majority of my earlier images are (variable quality) scans of archive prints.... and my opinions are, well... those of an enthusiastic amateur with a bog-standard education. Consequently I'd recommend visitors to TMA refrain from taking my - or anyone else's - word for anything... go see for yourself and post what you think / experienced. Yeah, make up your own mind. Be inspired, be inspiring, be magnificent (as Ian Dury once said) ... but most of all, my friends, be you! There can be only one.
In a society of computer generated fantasy, however, a word (or two) of caution. Please be aware that reaching some of the more remote upland sites in the British Isles can be potentially dangerous - even life threatening - for the unprepared. Yeah, this is not a drill. Treat the landscape and weather with the respect they deserve and you won't go far wrong. If in doubt, pop a question in the Forum. That's why Mr Cope puts up the readies to run TMA.... Thank you Julian.
So cheers... to Mr Cope for being his inspirational, confrontational self, showing that field archaeology can be FUN! - hey, who'd have thought it? ...to my sister (Mam Cymru) for using her female 'macro' vision to help me see the detail throughout an ongoing re-exploration of the South Walian uplands, albeit upon dodgy ankles etc... to my own mam for insisting 'young men should have adventures'.... and my Dad for unwittingly inspiring a profound love of high places. Oh, and to Aubrey Burl for simply being 'The Man' by blazing that trail.
Some of Gladman's other inspirations include (in no particular order.. except for Darwin):
Charles Darwin (for his peerless humanity... amongst other things...); George Orwell (the strength to change one's mind in light of new evidence); Michael Collins; Winston Churchill (for all his faults); Martin L. Gore; Richard Dawkins (much maligned, yet - by and large - helping to carry the torch of reason during an age of apathetic resignation); Shane MacGowan; Sophie Scholl; W A Mozart; Manic Street Preachers; Pat Jennings; Stuart Adamson; Will Shakespeare; Harry Hill (there's only one way to find out!); Mr Beethoven; Claudia Brucken (so Germans don't have passion?); the (Allied) generation of WW2 for making all this possible; Marc Almond (what does it take to be a man?); Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy; Christopher Hitchens; Harvey Milk; John Le Mesurier (do you think that's wise, sir?); Ralf Hutter and Florian Schneider.... not to mention anyone who has ever asked 'Why?' - the true legacy of punk. Last but not least, Gaelic beauty Karen Matheson... 'the call is unspoken, never unheard'.
George Orwell - '...during times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act'....
Martin L. Gore - 'Like a pawn on the eternal board; Who's never quite sure what he's moved toward; I walk blindly on....'
Truman Capote - 'Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavour'.
Mark Twain - 'Why shouldn't truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense'.
Frank Zappa - 'The mind is like a parachute. It doesn't work if it's not open'.
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