Visited 27th October 2013
This was a site we somehow missed on our last visit, probably as we were already overwhelmed by the plethora of megaliths in Brittany, but today we find it easily, signposted off the D141 just north of the village of Trehorenteuc.
A large sized, but somewhat potholed and muddy, car park gives access to the site. After parking up just make sure you take the path to the west, directly opposite where you park the car, and not the wider dirt track to the south, and a short walk will bring you to the rectangular stone setting of the Jardin Aux Moines, the ‘Monks Garden’. According to the information sign this would once have been a burial mound, it is 27m long and consists of 26 stones on the south side, and 27 on the north, with a separate compartment formed at the east end of the setting. Briard's excavations in the 1980's suggested the moument may have been a multi-stage one, the eastern compartment being the earliest, before the western rectangle was later added.
Interestingly the stones alternate between white quartz and red schist, the contrast really noticeable in the low morning sunlight. Burl also states that the1983 excavations uncovered a pile of red and white stones covering the remains of two late Neolithic pots, so the ancient builders obviously placed great significance in this variation of colours.
Like so many Breton sites it is surrounded by pleasant woodland, and we have the place to ourselves. It’s a nicely restored and cared for site, an enigmatic place, and among the myths and legends of ancient Broceliande well worth seeking out, after all it’s easier to find than the grail.
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Visited 26th October 2013
Just before you reach the village of Tresse, this allee couverte is signposted from the road, leading you to a woodland parking spot.
The area is busy with people walking in the woods, most with baskets full of mushrooms foraged from the forest, and we follow the well-trodden path a short way through the lovely mature trees to the monument.
The Maison des Fees really is in an idyllic setting, the woods in full autumn splendour, and as leaves fall in a gentle cascade around us with each breath of wind, the sylvan quality of the setting really does make you think we could be in the presence of the fey. The monument itself as well isn’t half bad, a long passage grave, once covered by a mound, now left exposed like the petrified skeleton of some great beast. Sprouting near the entrance is a strange bolete, a miniature fairy toadstool, and the folklore of the place still seems redolent in the air.
At once I scamper down the passage, low enough that I have to hunch over, and inspect the interior for carvings, of which I’ve heard the site has some good examples. I draw a blank before Ellen calls me from the outside of the monument, where she has found the carvings on the slabs at the back of the monument. There we observe the famous ‘breast’ carvings (a very French interpretation I’m sure!) which are like cup marks in reverse, four stand out clearly, with the remains of a further four visible on a separate slab, though now slightly diminished, as apparently they were smashed off in 1961.
The site reminds me a Dutch hunebedd, looking similar in layout with somewhat rounded stones resting on low orthostats. Nearby a subtly positioned multi-lingual information board is attached to a rock, and another nearby rock sports a somewhat whimsical picture of a fairy, and is also the best place to get a photo of the whole length of the allee couverte.
The Maison des Fees is a beautiful and magical place to be, especially at this time of year, and we spend some time here as people come and go, and even take the example of the French by foraging some sweet chestnuts, dropped by one of the sheltering trees, to take home and roast in the log burning stove.
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Visited 26th October 2013
We had a rough crossing on the overnight ferry to St. Malo, so landing in Brittany in a somewhat sleep deprived state, only the excitement of finally being back was keeping us going. So in need of a burst of energy we head off for the second tallest standing stone in Brittany, near the town of Dol de Bretagne, only about 15 miles away from the port.
Dol de Bretagne boasts an impressive cathedral and a maze like road system, so we headed south through the town and hoped for the best before fortunately finding a handy signpost. Soon our first Breton menhir of the trip hove into view, the top half of it standing proud above a field of yellowing corn, and for an anxious few seconds I feared the stone might be surrounded by crops. I needn’t have worried, a nicely manicured area, complete with picnic tables and parking spot gives easy access to the stone, and although surrounded on three sides by corn fields the crops were kept a respectful distance away from the stone, and what a stone it is! Standing a mind boggling 32’ tall, as you stand at the bottom of it and the stone towers above you it amazes how anyone could have erected this without the use of modern machines. Shaped and worked into a tapering top, as Postie says, it's like some megalithic rocket ship ready for take-off, this really is a superlative menhir.
The stone is smooth to the touch, I hug its huge girth, and I feel revitalised instantly. A nice smoothed boulder rests at the foot of the menhir, and provides a surprisingly comfortable spot to sit on to write some fieldnotes. A nearby information board relates the legends associated with the stone, and although only in French, is illustrated with cartoony pictures depicting the tales, so even with my shaky grasp of the language I’m able to catch the gist.
Probably the best standing stone I’ve ever seen, and an amazing way to start off the holiday in Brittany.
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Visited 5th October 2013
There’s hardly a surfeit of sacred wells in Staffordshire, so any chance to visit one should be grabbed with both hands, something I had sadly neglected to do for some time, but today’s the day, so we strolled through the woods by Knypersley pool on the hunt for the well.
The dappled shade in the trees gave an otherworldly feel as we moved form the relative brightness of the day, passing the dark finger of the Warden’s Tower, poking through the trees on an outcrop to our left. As we moved further into the woods the occasional old moss covered dry stone wall was visible amongst the thickets, as though we were stumbling through a long abandoned hamlet now reclaimed by the forest.
Things started promisingly, with clearly marked paths through the woods, and even a sign pointing us the direction of Gawton’s Stone & Well, but although we came upon the imposing edifice of Gawton’s Stone, the well was proving more elusive. Several tracks branched off from the main path, and I try to remember the relative positioning of the sites from the brief glimpse I had of a map of the woodland back at the visitors centre at Greenway Bank. I rue the decision not to bring an O.S. map, and realise now that I should just have photographed the visitors centre map so I could view it again to refer to on the camera. Knowing the well must be close by we pick a path and strike out toward the distant sound of water. It’s not long before we reach a stream, and the source of the sound, a small waterfall over an old stone dyke, and as the path curves further around it becomes clear that it’s not the path to the well.
We soon find ourselves back on the main trail again, all sense of direction having been clouded amongst the trees. Walking through the woods makes me think of Robert Holdstock’s novels, this place could almost be Staffordshire’s own mini Mythago Wood, such is character of the place, with hidden landmarks and a sense of nature pervading and reclaiming the once landscaped old country estate.
Back at Gawton’s stone I review the brief notes I have about the place, which indicate the well is only about 100 meters to the north of the stone, so trying to gauge the direction by our brief glimpses of the sun through the trees, we spot a track off the main path we had previously passed, and head off again.
Only a short way ahead I can see another old lichen covered wall, and an entranceway into a copse of trees, and spotting clouties hanging from the boughs I know we must be in the right place. The well itself is on a gentle slope, surrounded by the protective embrace of a grove of yew trees. A small elliptical stone basin catches the bubbling water, which flows into a larger rectangular one before running off in a thin stream down the slope, before disappearing again into the earth again near the old wall. I’m instantly struck by the atmosphere of the place and can see at once why it is considered one of Staffordshire’s most spiritual sites. The oval stand of yews is reputed to be the remains of a druidic grove, and although these specimens must be considerably younger than that, perhaps they are the descendants of those long forgotten trees.
We spend some time here, and it’s nice to find a place that is well cared for, there is no sign of rubbish, the clouties are sympathetic to the site, and even the aborglyphs on the surrounding trees have a spiritual dimension, someone having gone to great effort to carve a fine yin-yang symbol near the base of a tree.
The waters of the well have supposed curative properties, being renowned as a ‘cure for the King’s evil’ fortunately I’m not afflicted with any skin complaints on which to try it out, but a splash of the cool water to my face is welcome after all our tramping through the woods.
This whole area of Knypersley wood exudes a magical ambiance, in some ways it reminds me a lot of Alderley Edge, having the same sort of feel to it. No matter how old the current well is, it has the same sublime atmosphere I’ve experienced at Cornish holy wells, and was evidently a sacred place to local people long ago, and well, it still is today.
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Visited 5th October 2013
I’ve been told about this place before, but its disputed antiquity, and the ever lengthening list of my must see sites had firmly pushed it to the back of my mind. Now with autumn's grip starting to discourage ventures too far from home, pleasant weekend weather inspired us to seek out somewhere to visit, and being as Knypersley was less than 30 miles from us, today seemed an opportune time to finally visit.
Just south of Biddulph on the A527 we took the signposted right turn to the Greenway Bank Country Park. There are two car parks here, the first with a small visitors centre, toilets and coffee bar, but if you want a shorter walk just continue on down the lane to a further car park next to Knypersley reservoir itself. There are plenty of people out for walks today, and the reservoir is a tranquil site, surrounded as it is by a fringe of woodland. A group of twitchers with some serious photographic equipment, throng the dam wall, feverishly photographing a group of Great Crested Grebes out on the water as we walk by.
Soon we reach Poolside Cottage, and the spot where we take the footpath that flanks the reservoir. Heading into the woods we soon pass a verdurous pond to our right, vegetation thronging its still waters, and hinting of the atmosphere of the woods to come. It’s quieter here, most people having opted to walk around the lakeshore in the sunshine, the forest canopy still retaining enough leaves to darken the day. Just down the path a handy signpost indicates we are heading in the right direction for Gawton’s Stone and Well, and looming out of the trees on an outcrop to the left, is the romantic ruin of the Wardens Tower, a folly built in 1828 and lived in as recently as the 1950’s.
Continuing along the path we soon arrive at Gawton’s Stone, and it’s not something you can easily miss! Resembling a huge dolmen, like some cyclopean version of the Devil’s Den in Wiltshire, a giant boulder rests atop two smaller, but still pretty huge stones. Sadly it’s unlikely to be from the Neolithic, but that’s about as much as we do know. Various theories have been proposed as to how these stones got here. It doesn’t strike me as a folly, as firstly there are written references to it going back to the early 1600’s, (before the era when the building of follies became fashionable) and no records exist of a landowner having had it built. Intriguingly it also looks an unlikely natural arrangement of stones, particularly as the ‘capstone’ is of a different type of rock to the base stones. It is possible though that the largest stone had toppled from the nearby outcrop, which is the same type of rock, fortuitously ending up where it did, or indeed was pushed from the outcrop in antiquity.
It all adds to the sense of mystery, as does the ‘face’ simulacrum of the rock if viewed from one side, and the folktales of the place being redolent with strange magical powers, and mysterious magnetic fluctuations. Sadly I forgot the compass today, so I can’t check if any weird magnetic anomalies were going on, but I didn’t pick up any strange sensations on touching the stone.
The small chamber inside the stone doesn’t look like it would have provided much in the way of shelter for the eponymous hermit who was once supposed to have lived here, but it does appear some working has been made to the stone at the back of the chamber, and I imagine if you were hunkered down under the stone it would provide some solace from the elements (fortunately I don’t need to try it today!)
We spend a bit of time taking in the place, the only sound that of the birds and the wind in the leaves, punctuated by the occasional bark of an overexcited dog getting a walk nearby. J.D. Sainter in his 1878 book suggests a Germanic route for the name of the stone, even going so far as to suggest it resembles an early type of Scandinavian dolmen, and I’ve got to say it does remind me in a way of the Gladsax dolmen we visited in Skane, a site which utilised a natural boulder in its construction, and which was established to be the earliest carbon dated burial mound in Sweden, so perhaps he has a point?
There is also a reference on the Biddulph museum website to an excavation that took place in 1900 which indicated burials took place at the site, but I’ve not been able to uncover any more information about this yet. Stranger and stranger.
All in all an enigmatic site, and well worth a visit, I’ll definitely be back knowing now how close it is to home, and so we leave the mysterious stone for the time being and continue our search for the nearby well…
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Visited 14th August 2013
On the way to the Wasdale crannog we spotted this mound from the path, which struck me as looking suspiciously like a barrow. A quick check of the O.S. map whilst relaxing on the crannog confirmed it was a 'cairn', and since we were passing it seemed rude to to visit.
As I've posted before I'm never really satisfied with viewing a site from afar, and feel a strange compulsion to connect to the place by actually physically being there or touching it. Maybe it's the same thing that drives me to 'bag' lonely mountain summits, but I'd be deeply unsatisfied by just taking a photo from the path, and not letting a little thing like a complete lack of any visible access to the site stopping me, I look for a way to reach the mound.
Finding a spot where the dry stone wall was a little lower I hop over into a field choked with gorse. The thick bushes are so dense I have to pick my way through veritable maze of spiny branches as I struggle uphill, before working my way around the barbed wire fence which partitions off the field containing the mound. Handily though a gate right by the mound allows access without having to circumvent the fence and then I'm there.
While I'm sure some people would be incredulous as to lengths I'd go through just to visit a small green mound, when I'm there I'm glad I did, as Howe Harper is actually rather good. Firstly the surrounding ditch is still clearly visible and well preserved, and secondly the views from atop the mound are fantastic. Each way you turn gives a new and fine aspect, to the north the loch of Wasdale twinkles below you, whilst west the hills of Hoy loom over the horizon, dominating the skyline as they do all across west Mainland. To the south the mound seems to mirror a small hill which sticks out atop a ridge of high ground.
The cairn itself is also still of a good size, with just a small chunk hacked from the mound, possibly by the world's most half-hearted treasure seekers who just couldn't be arsed, or else feared they may be in danger of disturbing the mound's resident draugr, or more likely through erosion by cattle grazing. Either way it gives a view of some of the underlying cairn structure.
Well as grassy mounds go this is definitely one of the good ones, and perfectly viewable from the path, but if you do want the full experience of the views from the cairn, then try Wideford's directions, I'm sure it would be easier!
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Visited 14th August 2013
There are plenty of marked parking bays at the edge of Finstown, just before you leave the village on the way to Stromness, and we left the car here to walk on to Wasdale. A gate gives access into a field next to road, across which a short walk takes you into Binscarth Wood. It’s still lovely and sunny this afternoon, but soon we enter the wood and the warmth of the day is muted by the cool green shade of the verdant canopy above us. We stick to the old drover’s path, as the other tracks through the trees are still muddy, despite the small amount of rain recently. The excited voices of kids playing on the homemade rope swings over the burn provide an accompaniment, and the walk through mature woodland seems jarring after the paucity of trees on the rest of Mainland, but it’s good to be back amongst the thickets, arboreal withdrawal symptoms being one of the few downsides of spending some time on Orkney.
Despite being a veritable forest in Orcadian terms it only take a few minutes for us to be back in the sunlight as we leave the wood behind, and as the path forks a small signpost indicates we bear left to follow the footpath (the right fork will take you up towards Binscarth House). Soon the Wasdale lochan is visible, and in it the tantalising mound, its modern cairn a peedie tower surrounded by the remains of the much older lower courses of stonework.
The water levels in the loch are low, making crossing the stepping stones easy, and soon we are on the island. Although the undergrowth chokes some of the lower stones there is plenty to see. The curve of an exterior wall reminds me of the construction of the walls at the Borwick broch, other stonework looks altogether more jumbled as if built on later, along with some worked stones, and a jumble of rocks just above the level of the water on the north-western side of the islet, that looks like it might have once been a rough pier or landing stage. Canmore lists an intriguing record for this site, encompassing a chapel, enclosure, ancient mound and possible dun, and as you poke about the site you can almost feel the different layers of history, like the skin on an onion, which permeate this little islet.
I soon find an intriguing block of stone near to the island end of the causeway, it is pocked with four ‘cupmarks’ in a line. The depressions are too linear to be natural, but too crude to be modern workings, and I wonder just how old they really are, and whether the stone was scavenged from one of the nearby cairns on the hills overlooking the loch?
We spend some time here, Ellen sketching whilst I write my fieldnotes, just taking in the landscape and atmosphere. The sunny day brings out the best of the colours, the water a coruscating blue around us, reeds flanking the islet a viridian green, with the softer pastels of the surrounding moorland below the azure sky, a perfect place to sit and ponder, and another of Orkney’s ‘off the beaten track wonders’
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Visited 14th August 2013
After a quick visit to the Fossil Heritage museum on Burray (nice café by the way), we carried on over the barriers onto South Ronaldsay.
Heading down the A961 the right hand turn to Sandwick is signposted, and as you head down the single track lane towards the sea the stone will soon become visible to your left. On such narrow roads parking can be a problem, we pulled in on the verge by the barn of Clouduhall farm (although beware of the concealed ditch if you do!), although if you carry on a little way down the road, and bear left at the first junction you come to, the road heads down toward Sandwick bay, and a small pull-in that can fit a couple of cars in at a squeeze.
The first time I visited this site I couldn’t see an obvious way into the field, and the maddening proximity of the stone impelled me to hop over the relatively low barbed wire fence (just about keeping all my relevant bits intact!), before discovering that the gate into the field is actually to the north-east of the stone, and concealed by the slope of the hill. This time we took the sensible approach and walked back up the road the way we had come, before taking the first lane on the right (just past a garage with blue doors) which leads down past a nearby abandoned house, right to the gate which gives access to the field.
The stone is a good hefty size, with the typical topping of sea moss so common in these parts. As I stand by the stone taking in the fantastic view, looking out down toward the island of Swona just out to sea, I think what a perfect place this is to site a stone.
Last night we attended a lecture by the Orkney Archeological society which talked about the Norse settlers attitude to the megalithic sites they encountered, and the folklore that arose around these places, and it mentioned that standing stones seemed the most enigmatic of the monuments in that whilst other megalithic sites tended to be associated with spirits or beings that may dwell there, standing stones seemed to be associated as entities in themselves (as evidenced by all the tales of them nipping down to local lochs for a drink!). Standing here I can see the truth in it, megaliths sited close to the coast, in that liminal place where the shore gives way to the sea, seem to be the most enigmatic of all, staring out over the millennia as the sea gradually re-shapes the land, perhaps like our own native Moai.
Perhaps though I’m romanticising too much, and with all my thoughts of the megalith as a petrified personification of Sandwick’s genius loci, I’m sure the prosaic answer behind it is far more mundane, but pondering on these things is what makes these visits so special, and the sublime loveliness of Orkney is ever a place to bring out my chimerical nature.
Finally we walk down to Sandwick bay itself, where delightfully we see a small seal pup, only a few days old by the look of him, sheltering near the rocks. We sit on the beautiful sands watching him, whilst he stares back curiously at us, the stone of Clouduhall watching over us both from its perch on the slope above us. A magical end to a lovely visit.
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Visited 6th July 2013
Maen Crwn is unmissable, no quite literally. If you are walking up to the Druid’s Circle from the Two Pillars car park, the large boulder like stone, close to the only house seemingly for miles around, will give you a prominent landmark, and also point you toward the diminutive stones of the Red Farm circle.
It’s the first time I’ve ever come along this path, which provides a fantastic walk, from the first glimpses of the stones of Y Meini Hirion on the horizon when you leave the car, to these great bonus sites as you walk atop the high headland looking out over the sea, and the slumbering wyrm of the Great Orme. By the time Mean Crwn is reached you are about two thirds of the way there, and since you have to walk right past this fine megalith it would be rude, nay obligatory not to stop to say hello.
The stone is a satisfyingly chunky boulder-like affair. Burl describes it as ‘playing card’ shaped, in which case he must play with an odd deck as I think the Welsh name of Mean Crwn (meaning the round stone) is more descriptive. It reminds me greatly of Cae Coch, not far away from here along Tal-y-Fan.
Nicely screened by a line of trees allowing some separation from the nearby farmhouse, I’m free to give the stone a hug without embarrassment (not that I’ve been put off before!) and without the vague feeling of intrusion that can be felt when a monument is too close to someone’s house.
I ponder Cefn Maen Amor in the background, the stone seeming to nicely line up with the top of that hill, mirroring its shape in the landscape. I also try to look for alignments to the Red Farm circle in the next field, but sadly the annoying stone wall blocks my line of sight for a direct view. I later read that the wall contains a suspiciously standing stone like gatepost, but in the excitement of our pull toward the ‘main event’ of the Druid’s Circle I didn’t think to go and check out the fieldwall, a good excuse though to come back this way again, and where megalithic sites are concerned the more excuses to return the better!
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Visited 1st June 2013
Having only ever seen these stones from the road, and at quite a distance, we took advantage of a lovely sunny day to get a bit closer and have a walk up to them. Parking up overlooking the sea near to the Earl’s Palace in Birsay, we walked back up the main road to Kirkwall as far as the small signpost to Vinbrake. Taking this lane to our right it’s not long before the stones are visible on the horizon, an open gate into their field inviting us in.
The two stones stand at either end of a low mound, a rough measurement taken by standing next to it, shows the taller of the pair must be around 6’ tall, its companion around half the height, due to having snapped in two, the broken half lying mournfully not far from the diminished stone.
Fantastic views are to be had from here, the two stones framing a range of amazing vistas out over the Brough of Birsay, and Boardhouse Loch, and again it strikes me just how well these sites were selected by the people who built them for their place in the landscape. As I ponder the views I notice a very prominent alignment with the Wheebin standing stone across the loch, which although only a tiny point in the distance, directly stands between the two Stanerandy orthostats.
We spend some time in the gorgeous sunshine just taking in the views and soaking up the atmosphere of another top quality Orcadian monument.
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Visited 20th July 2013
Well, as I promised myself on the last visit, we wouldn’t be leaving it so long before coming back here again, and given the current run of good weather the plan of a picnic at the site seemed like a good one.
On arrival though we were a bit shocked to find the place almost totally overgrown. Ferns had completely shrouded the side stones, leaving only the tall front orthostats looming above the foliage, and the interior of the chamber was totally choked with vegetation to a height of about 4 feet high.
Not to be put off though I embarked on some emergency ‘gardening’, and after a good half hour of pulling up ferns and long grass by hand (had to leave the brambles though!) the place was looking a little more respectable, and the long awaited picnic was finally had.
It breaks my heart though to see such a fantastic place so uncared for, the rampant overgrowth not withstanding, I also removed various bits of rubbish from the chambers (it appears previous picnickers were not so conscientious about taking their rubbish away with them) and to top it all it seems to be somewhat of a popular spot for dog walkers to allow their pets to do their business.
Despite all of this the Bridestones remain undaunted, and a worthy place to visit, it just might be worth bringing some secateurs with you when you come!
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Visited 6th July 2013
This is the first time we’ve parked up at the Two Pillars for a visit to the Druid’s Circle, and with the route taking you right past Red Farm it seemed rude not to visit.
Opting for a bit of brazen trespassing, we let ourselves in through the gate to the field housing the stones of the Red farm circle. With no-one else around, other than a few hot and bothered sheep looking on from their shelter in the shade of the field walls, and a line of trees screening you from the nearby farmhouse, it didn’t feel like we were intruding too much.
The four remaining stones are tiny, but provide a clearly defined arc allowing you to image the size the circle would once have been, and thanks to our ovine friends the short clipped grass made the dainty stones much easier to see than many similar circles in more wild landscapes, like nearby Cerrig Pryfaid.
We spent a few minutes taking in the position of the circle, the hill of Cefyn Maen Amor, looming significantly in the background, topped tantalisingly with what look like huge stones, although having read Shropshire Traveller and Postie’s notes on the site I guess they must be natural. Either way we don’t have time to explore that way today, and the very fine menhir in the next door field was calling to us, so we bid farewell to the ‘mountain men’ and take our leave.
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Visited 4th June 2013
I spotted this place from the Mor Stein last time we were there, Castle Bloody’s cairn just being visible on the horizon, but was unsure as to what it actually was, and besides the weather on that day was not conducive to a trek across peaty moorland for a visit.
Today I’m approaching from the other direction, having come from Burroughston, back down the B9058, and taking the lane for Frustigarth. Nearing the coast a small green sign handily signposts the path to Castle Bloody. It’s also interesting from this direction just how the Mor Stein stands out across the flat landscape, being continually visible on the horizon as I follow the path, and I’ve no doubt how much of a major landmark it would have been back in the times these sites were constructed.
The path seems to take forever to reach it, making me wonder if the name of the place derived from people wondering when they were going to reach the bloody castle, but on a day like today the walk is pleasant, with the sun beating down, and just the calls of the seabirds wheeling overhead for company, and on the way you pass an interesting sea stack, a bit like a mini man of Shapinsay.
Soon the path leads you through the heart of the moorland, and you sometimes have to pick your way through the clumps of peat, but always the cairn of stones atop the souterrain is beckoning you on. It’s finally a relief when I reach this fascinating place, a gentle breeze from the sea cooling me down. As I walk around the turf covered mound I’m more and more intrigued. Although the OS map calls it a chambered mound, I’ve read it’s a souterrain, but due to the unexcavated nature of the mound no entrances are visible. From the top of the mound though a fine capstone is visible and uncovered, and although the cairn of stones atop the mound is a relatively recent addition given the overall age of the monument, I really liked the way it now seemed to organically fit with the rest, having been mellowed and worn by age, and with a lovely beard of sea moss.
I sit with my back against the marker cairn in the sun as I have a sandwich and write my fieldnotes, and can think of no finer place to be. Then it’s off to the Mor Stein, this time though directly across the heathland, and coming across one of the small cluster of little cairns, mid way between the two sites, on the way.
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Visited 4th June 2013
A gloriously sunny day has been forecast, so I thought it might be opportune to have a day on Shapinsey visiting as many sites as I could, so packing sandwiches and a flask I'm ready for the off.
A short walk from the house in Kirkwall and I’m at the pier in time for the 08.15 ferry over to the island. As I sit on deck, the sun is already warm with scarcely a breeze, and as the boat approaches the dock at Balfour village I’m afforded a fine view of the chambered cairn on the unihabited islet of Helliar Holm.
Deciding to head firstly to the broch, as it is the furthest site away from the ferry, and having been stranded before overnight on an island due to forgetting the time in my enthusiasm to see as many megalithic remains as possible, I’m not keen to repeat the mistake!
I love a long walk in to visit a site, not only does it somehow feel more adventurous, but it gives you time to appreciate the landscape, and the monument’s place in it. It helps me to feel more connected with the place, and visualise how things might have looked back in time when the monument was built. It is however a good five miles from Balfour village to the broch, so for anyone more sensible who doesn’t fancy quite such an exertion I’d recommend hiring a bicycle in Kirkwall. Shapinsay is a great place for cycling being mostly flat and virtually traffic free (it’s also a lot cheaper than the extortionate cost for bringing a car over from Mainland).
As I head to the northern part of the island a low sea mist still clings over the ground, not yet having been burnt off by the sun, and the closer I get to the broch the worse visibility becomes. Soon all around me is grey, and the muffled calls of the sea birds lend an eerie atmosphere to the walk as I see not another soul around.
Approaching the broch, which is well signposted from the road, initially all that is visible is a green mound, surrounded by an outer bank and information board. Heading around to the entrance I am confronted by a very fine doorway, with a fantastic lintel. Inside the broch things only get better. What can I say about the place? Compact and bijou with recent renovation, bags of character, with loads of original features, and a great seaside location, perfect for the discerning modern antiquarian.
Seriously though it has a fantastic interior, some highlights including a Skara Brae style dresser, ingenious ground water collecting well (which still works!) and a spy hole in the guardroom to check on visitors outside the front door. I was blown away.
As Wideford mentions in his fieldnotes you can get a good overhead view of the inside from the top. I wasn’t too crazy about the slightly intrusive wooden railings circling the summit, but I suppose nowadays health and safety demands it. Also well done to the idiot(s) who decided to throw the remains of their picnic down into the well (why people with such little respect for these places bother visiting somewhere that takes considerable effort to reach I’ll never know).
After spending a while here the sun finally starts to burn off the low cloud, allowing me to look out to sea and hoping to catch a glimpse of some seals, who often like to beach themselves on the shore by the broch, but alas there are no selkies to be seen today.
If you get the chance do visit, I’ve enjoyed this place more than some of its more impressive/famous nearby neighbours, and for me it’s now Orkney’s top of the brochs.
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Visited 4th June 2013
On my epic trek around Shapinsay I notice a site enigmatically labelled a 'mound' on the OS map. With the sun beating down, and hardly a breeze in the air, I really can't pass up the chance to visit such a nearby site.
The mound is visible from the road, in a field just behind the house of Bonnyhill. An open gate into a pasture field of long grass allows me tramp up the low rise toward the mound. An Oystercatcher is perched atop the low boulder which is visible on the crown of the mound, but soon takes flight and angrily wheels overhead pipping at me for disturbing his perch.
Canmore describes the site as a circular mound, mostly composed of earth, and likely a burial mound, as the situation is a good one for a barrow, although there is no record of anything having been found there. The cairn material is believed to be more modern. It does feel like it should be a cairn, sited on a prominent raised area, and with stunning views out over the bay, but something here just feels a little mysterious.
Worth a visit if you are passing, especially when the fine weather lets you appreciate the views from the mound, and to ponder what this place once was.
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Visied 19th April 2013
We parked up at the small parking area at the lovely little beach at the Sands of Wright. Looking back to Hoxa Hill the observation hut atop the hill is clearly visible, signposting the way to the cairn.
Taking the advice of Wideford's fieldnotes we walked back up the road to the fine large country house of Roeberry, where just past the entrance drive, a gate allows access to a lane which runs up the side of Roeberry's garden wall as it heads up the hill.
At the top of the lane you are greeted by gates to each side of you. Directly in front a gate opens onto scrubland atop the hill, where the trig point and observation hut draw the eye toward the small mound of the cairn.
Two curious horses approach us as we stand at the gate, hopefull that we may be carrying apples, they have to be satisfied with a pat on the nose. Ellen, being a little wary of horses, waits at the gate whilst I set off for the cairn with an equine escort.
The Wart is an unfortunate name for the fine remains of an Orkney-Cromarty type cairn, and in fact would be a more fitting epithet for the strange observation hut building which encroaches close to the cairn. From here the views are fantastic over Hoxa Head and out across Scapa Flow, particularly today with clear blue skies complimenting the deep azure sea.
Once this cairn would have been huge, as evidenced by the remains of the circumference, although many of the stones have now gone. It looks as if some stones may have been built up to act as a wind break, as they seemed somehow out of place, but inside the chamber one of the stones that formed the stall is still standing, and as I hunker down away from the wind to write my fieldnotes it's really quite cosy.
On a day like today it's a fine place to spend some time, I could happily stay all day, it feels like a place outside of time, and far away from the hassles of the mundane world, but aware of Ellen still waiting at the gate, I settle for five minutes to soak in the atmosphere, and the promise to return on a day with equally fine weather.
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Visited 15th April 2013
Shapinsay is a wild and windy place today, as we walk from the ferry at Balfour village on our pilgrimage to the Mor Stein. On the way there, just as we approached a ruined old kirk, an intriguing green mound caught our attention perched right on the coast.
Lest the wind whips away the map, we duck into the shelter of the derelict church, the OS map confirming our suspicions that the mound is a ruined broch. Behind the church is an ivy clad vault, wonderfully atmospheric and containing the graves of the Balfour family, responsible for Shapinsay's castle, and from here we notice a gate that looks as if it leads to the field containing the broch. As it turns out it doesn't, merely opening into a graveyard annex, but back on the 'main road' an open gate into an empty field next to the old church allows us to access the broch.
A large flock of Oystercatchers sweep by us as we cross the field, their raucous calls a constant soundtrack on Orkney. The low green lump of the broch is clearly visible against the sea, and behind it the nearby island of Helliar Holm, with its chambered cairn clearly visible atop that island's prominent hill.
At the broch some stonework is visible on the landward side, but not until you pick your way across the rickety wire fence and down to the foreshore that more of the sweep of the broch's wall is visible perched precariously on the low cliff edge, the remains having succumbed to erosion long ago. Apparantly the site suffered heavily in the storms of February 1984, and it looks as if another heavy storm might be enough to finish it off for good.
Down on the shore amongst the rocks it is more sheltered, a fine place to look out to sea, or up to the broch wall above you. Although little now remains of this ancient site it still retains a sense of presence, and is one of those places that is more than the sum of its parts, a lovely spot to spend a while.
As we turned to leave a huge rainbow, a thick band low in the sky, quite unlike any I'd ever seen before, had appeared behind us, just another magical sight in Orkney.
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Visited 12th April 2013
What a difference from my first visit here ten years ago. Then I had to climb a rickety fence and wade ankle deep through bog, all the while being battered by the wind with stinging freezing rain hammering me in the face.
Today things are much more civilised. The weather is positively warm for the northerly latitude, and a nice new gate from Achavanich accesses the field, the cairn being easily visible on higher ground to the east of the great 'U' of Stemster. The route to the cairn is still marshy, a drainage stream cuts the cairn off from the Achavanich stones, but a wooden plank has been placed across it to allow access. It is so damp at the moment though that the plank threatens to be swamped, and I carefully pick my way across it, with arms extended for balance, feeling very Tomb Raider.
Keeping my feet dry I arrive at the cairn, which affords a fantastic view across the stone setting to Loch Stemster, while if you turn to your left mountains dominate the distant horizon, today snow capped and lovely.
The cairn must once have been huge, for it is still a fair size although denuded in size, and 1,000 years older than the stones it overlooks. It is possible to make out what looks to once have been an entrance passage, though now collapsed in on itself, and the central chamber still forms a fine cist.
Now that access is easier make sure not to leave out Achkinloch on a visit to Achavanich, just make sure you bring some waterproof shoes!
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Visited 12th April 2013
Despite the fact that we regularly stop off in Aviemore on our northward jouneys, I realise with shock that it's been at least ten years since I last visited the circle. There is really no excuse, the circle being conveniently located just to the north of the town, even being handily signposted just next to the fire station, and being located in a quiet cul-de-sac parking next to the monument is not a problem.
Although the houses encroach right up to the stones, giving the impression that the circle was nothing more than a civic monument to spice up a humdrum estate, when you actually get here you appreciate the fine qualities of the site. It is a fine circle, and suprisingly easy to imagine how things would once have been before the houses were built during Aviemore's expansion in the 1960's.
The mountains stand proud on the horizon, snow capped today, placing the circle in a natural amphitheatre. The chunky stones are substantial, with a couple of outliers concentrically set on the outside of the circle, the groundplan making a lot more sense if you've previously had of pleasure of visiting Balnuaran of Clava.
We picnic in the centre of the circle, joined by a friendly local dog, but are struck just by how nicely kept the circle is, there being not a scrap of rubbish or other damage as might often by expected at more 'urban' sites, as well as a generally relaxed feeling of welcome here. I certainly didn't get the impression of any 'curtain twitching' or otherwise feeling of discomfort as we lesiurely ate our lunch, and took inumerable photos from every conceivable angle.
A lovely site, like a fondly remembered meal that you don't realise how good it is until you experince it again, I'll make sure I visit the circle next time we come this way, and I'd certainly recommend if you're ever in Aviemore you do the same.
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Visited 6th April 2013
Following the fine directions given by previous contributors, and the particularly useful link provided by Rhiannon, I managed to find this place no problem, and worked it into a visit on a round trip from Glastonbury taking in both Stoney Littleton and the Faulkland standing stones first.
As suggested parking at The Bell Inn (right next to the A361 Frome Road at the village of Rode) is by far the best plan, and the public footpath is easily accessible just across the road. Once over the first stile and into the fields proper you soon see the copses of trees on the rise ahead, to which you have to aim. The fields up to the copses were currently fallow, but clear paths around their edges allowed me not to get my feet too muddy. Gates were all open and access was easy, with only the occassional distant report of a shotgun giving me a vague sense of unease lest I become unwitting cannon fodder for a trigger happy farmer.
As I head across the fields I disturb a pair of deer grazing at the newly emerging shoots, and we both freeze, staring wide eyed at each other for a moment, before they turn and flee from this noisy interloper.
Soon I'm at the barrow, huddled amongst the trees, the outline of the monument clearly visible since most of the vegetation has either died back in the harsh winter, or else been cropped by the fiendly neighbourhood deer. As I take in the whole of the monument it almost looks like a cutaway diagram of a barrow, the footings of the mound still clearly visible, the entrance portal stones standing proud, and a thick stone defining the end of the barrow (presumably the Devil likes to prop his feet up when in bed).
I crouch down to take a closer look at the portal stones, getting a few nettle stings in the process, but noticing what could possibly be three cupmarks on the interior facing of the stone. Once again I curse the fact that I've left the camera at home, and so am forced to take photo's with the phone (which singularly fails to provide a decent picture of the cupmarks), oh well just an excuse to return I guess.
As I sit quietly here a buzzard swoops in low and lands in the tree next to me, and I'll echo Rhiannon's thoughts, it is lovely here, and the sort of place you could spend hours. It seems as if few people visit, there was certainly no evidence of any rubbish or offerings at the site, and it feels like this is the Severn-Cotswold barrows best kept secret. Often it is some of these lesser known places that retain a more tangible atmosphere.
I notice that the village church seems to be in a direct line with the barrow, which along with attributing the stones to the Devil, is one of those terribly insecure Christian gestures, to defame any other alternative beliefs. Well if the devil has all the best tunes, then he also seems to have the best places, as I'd much rather be here in this magical place than in the cold dour surroundings of the local church. With that thought I head back to The Bell, to finish off a site visit in the best possible way, with a nice pint.
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Megalithic wanderer and modern day pagan.
I've always loved anything historical, particularly megalithic sites (I've many a fond memory of visits to Stonehenge in the mid 1970's as we used to stop there every year on the way to the annual family holiday down in Bournemouth, which I think started it off), and the discovery of a certain book by Mr. Cope set off an obsession in the late 1990's to see as many of these wonderful places as I can.
Enjoys walking in the wildnerness and climbing mountains (currently on the worlds slowest round of Munroe bagging), travel, playing guitar, real ale and malt whisky, historical re-enactment, fencing and wargaming (although not all at the same time!) Also adores small furry critters (particularly cats)
Spends most of the year in the megalithic desert of the Midlands, although fortunate enough to live part of the time in Kirkwall in the megalithic oasis of Orkney, with my lovely (and very patient) wife Ellen, and the cute furball that is our cat Hecate.
Favourite sites would be Callanish and Ring of Brodgar (where I was handfasted) in Scotland, Les Pierres Platts in Brittany, Havangsdosen in Sweden, Glavendrup in Denmark, and Sunkenkirk in England.
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