You will be pleased to learn that most years Breedon still plays host to a paganesque ritual.
On May Day morning where a number of local sides meet to dance "the sun up" . A very early start but music drink and breakfast ( if booked). Good start to the day's celebrations.
More on in the area during the day and evening.
Check first as not always on (usually though)
Contact Dave Johns via www.scragfolk.co.uk
More than the average energy here. Tie off, jacket off, back from work, meant to visit and spend a short time, not expecting much but bought a couple of beers anyhow. Sat in the sun aiming for solitude, two girls arrive one Ukraine one Australia. Aussie lass, "what's the significance?". "Dunno", I still haven't touched the beast yet. It's a bit too hairy. Next two more girls come, better, both well into it . She into energy being blasted, me sympathetic but not really able to get too close to Maen Llia, sit in sun, drink ale, try again. Not all uppity about whole deal but understand enthusiasm. Quiet hour is filled with people, but they're all good folk. Calm moment, go for it walk round, touch, energy drops, still explosive, very rare place this, hard to fathom, beneficial, still living off it.
The steg, pepper and I visited the 5 stones as part of our holiday in the big green steg van. We had camped at a village about 5 miles away on the Tweed and this was a real bonus as we only realised we were so close the night before. We set off early and enjoyed the walk up the track in clear light. pepper was chasing invisible hares through the corn and we saw a deer. The stones are visible a away off, fabulous. Spent a a little while before going in, noticed a few boulders between the main stones, wondered if they were added later or were part of the original set up. Found some charcoal and a bone in the middle. Pepper was not interested in the bone and was reluctant to come back in the circle, very uncharacteristic on both counts.
Tremendous position up on a mound set in a near circle / saucer of hills, cheviots particularly sexy.
Dunno what to make of Duddo but it was great. Do go.
The Growing Stone..what a welcome antidote.
For 3 days previous I had been courtesy of my loved cousin and his Mrs their guest at the Network Q Rally. Big powerful motors tearing across the mountains and big fat petrol heads covering the hill with unfeasable amounts of shit, cans, bottles, take away cartons, burger wrappers. I needed to see this cos if I hadn't I would not have believed how grossly f****d up the majority of us are. An education I badly had to endure.
Night 3 we run away, we camp on the hill away from the tip and the arrogance and sleep good in the wood. Day 4 we head out across the hills and visit The Growing Stone.
Now then what do we anticipate ?
MOD, fences, exclusion, pollution all that crap. a good stone spoiled?
But ah ha brill, dance for joy cos none of that, sure there is a dilapidated fence, the military grounds and the road but....
This stone stood out and rendered all that to invisibility.
Now there is power..
A bad world cured.
You can only see this stone as a sentinal on the valley floor, alone, mist wreathed a tribute to the crop, and instead of standing anachronistic a stranger in a strange land it dissolved everything, transporting me back before we went so badly wrong. I cannot even remember what it looked like now but it saved me then.
There is something here that discards its modern and unfortunate circumstances and imposes its own time.
Put it on your list.
Issues of precedence try to fog me but it is only subtext.
What came first? The kerbed cairn (as the marker would have us believe) or the circle itself to be filled in by a burial cairn, last resting place for some bronze age glitteriati, hunched double in a clay box.
My money is upon the latter, if a kerbed cairn then about half of the stones are missing seemingly alternately, that would nae happen. Why nick only half the good stuff.
Either way it matters not, what is obvious is that someone saw this place as a portal to elsewhere after life. Frankly its easy to see why.
Forming a clear marker on the node on a boundary on sacred land, the source of food and life of love and hope. overlooking the fertile waters of the sound. resounding off the wooded hill sanctuary across the way, warmth, security.
Our predeceesors must have valued what we do, there is an unbroken thread, I pootled off in my motor car.... connected, just as lost.
furry dan has it,
there is just too much to get your heed about here. good fun to try though.
all that is said is true , this place was revered ,maybe to fault by those who farmed here.
very wet and lost in the concentrics. Rain sluices down , twas spooky, dark.
for what its worth, my favourite one is the smallish boulder circle, that has , 12 stones of six men & six ladies. perfect balance and and off centre alignement , just past the last tall circle ( with the three big feather reds. weather beds), tis on the right with a smaller flooded ( rain permitting) circle to the left.
according to the upright authority of the bill boards that sought to aggregate and categorise the unmeasurable... it was circle number 3 or 4 or was it 1 , 2 5,or 6. I canna remember.
I condemned the arbitrary linear classification then hopelessly failed to understand what it really all meant on its own terms,
Truth is we impose our own patterns on the invisible and in doing so find usable meaning.
Strange attractor , bamboozles dinsosaur on the isle of witches
Wow, this was awesome. where the mountains meet the sea on the edge of a fertile landscape . seemingly a huge priaptic monolith..... but is it?
Not a sausage.
Pop up it's flaccid neighbour and you have a welcome lic.hen covered minge. look inland and track through the uteric glen up to the head or ...
Turn about and look out and through & over to kintyre, across the sound .to see the near earth fold down into a roaring peat filled burn , noise overwhelming.dark brown, torrent fed.
Tah, who knows perhaps it was a fish worship monument , now half of the salmon tail nosedived into the earth by our hairy/hungry/hardy/happy ancestors.
Sympathetic magic calling the salmon to the burn. The sea and all its bounty fed from the hill, called home by a compelling granite whisper.
Happy steg monster in the pouring rain wondering at the magic of it all. To much overlay , blown away.
yesterday on the isle of witches
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