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Exploring the Gypsey Race! A tour around a forgotten landscape


Of all the neolithic centres in Britain, one that has always held a special interest to me is the area built up around the Gypsey Race stream. Not least because the last place you expect to see a centre such as this is on my doorstep in the East Yorkshire wolds.

The name of the Gypsey Race also has certain romantic connotations. In the TMA Julian was told by a Bridlington book seller that the name of the river was such because it 'wandered around all over'. Whilst it does indeed meander all through this area, that is not really the reasoning behind the name.

A Gypsey river or stream is simply one which flows overland in certain parts and underground in others. At times of high rainfall the underground water levels from which the Gypsey survives breaks out overland and sometimes within a couple of hours a previously dry riverbed can become a raging torrent.

During the research for my trip to I'd come across lots of references to egends about the Race foretelling doom when in full flow. More references told me that the Race was only actually in full flow every two years or so.

I would suggest that to the Neolthic peoples who built there monuments around this river, this place was made ever more important because of the nature of the Gypsey. How amazing it must have been for the river to be suddenly dry and then because the underground water levels were full suddenly become a torrent. For a people who seemed to place great emphasis on nature and the 'Goddess' this life giving flow must have been a sight truly amazing to them. I don't see this river as being an omen for doom, rather a giver of life to be celebrated and not vilified.

So where to start? The TMA does say that the area around the race is a destroyed landscape. Many of the places having being ploughed out and the remnants simply impossible to see because of the crops growing around and on top. In actual fact there is only one possible place to start a pilgrimage such as this…Rudston!

The Rudston Monolith stands proud in the yard of the local church. A truly massive and awe-inspiring feature it stands 26 feet above ground with a lot more below. The monolith from the road gives the impression that it is much smaller, indeed my companion said to me at the time that it only looked the same size as the stones of Callanish. As soon as you get close though, it really does hit you. It is gargantuan, enormous, huge, this is something else, a lone monolith standing proud. How many odds must it have defied to stay standing in a place which has clearly been Christianised. I would wager that the only reason it did survive is because of its size. Indeed at one point in its history a cross had been placed upon its top. Not there any more I hasten to add! Now its crown is adorned by a metal helmet to help prevent erosion.

I had heard a rumour that the site was formally surrounded by a stone circle. I do not feel that this is folly! Of all the places that a stone circle should have stood this is surely it although there are no real remains of it left. The outer wall church yard is made up of red brick so no clues there. No sarsens remain in the walls to tell us their story. But the fact that a church has been built slap bang next to a clear Neolithic structure should be clue enough. Also part of the boundary walls look as though they could have once been circular. If that isn't enough there are earthworks in the grounds of the churchyard which go round in a circular motion. Maybe I'm reading too much into things but its all very coincidental. Plus it also appears that the church and the churchyard have been built on a mound with clear earthworks visible - further signs?

Our next point of call was to see if anything remained of the Little Argham Henge. The OS map showed the henge as being in a supposedly easy to find spot at the corner of two roads on the Maidens Grave hill. Also the Gypsey Race runs straight past it. According to local sources burials had been discovered here within a triangular structure at least four trackways led to it over the wolds. Given its proximity to Rudston and it being in direct alignment with the monolith, one suspects that the place was once of great importance.

Alas, farmers and father time care not one jot for former influence. The Henge was a massive disappointment. It has indeed been totally ploughed out and there are no signs of it that I could see from the ground. Add to this the added disappointment of seeing the Race for the first time – totally bone dry and rather anti-climactic! Ah well I understood that the race could be free flowing in some parts and dry in others such is the nature of the Gypsey.

After a long walk around the site of the henge we made our way back to the car and into the village of Burton Fleming. Here, as in most of the villages along its route, the Gypsey race runs alongside the main street. However at this moment in time the race was empty and the riverbed of the stream had grassed over such was the length of time that the Race had not flowed overland in this part of its journey. Back in the day such an event was the rising of the Gypsey race, it became a tradition for the local youth to come out and 'meet the Gypsey'.

From Burton Fleming we made our way to Willy Howe, a tree covered artificial mound, which had been hollowed out by excavators in the past. The Howe is in a dominant setting on the brow of a hill overlooking the race and can be easily seen on approach from the village. You can clamber through the thick undergrowth and onto the top of the howe but once you get there you are conforted with a steep drop into the middle. The place is totally overgrown and quite literally you can get into the belly of the mound where trees now grow.

From Willy Howe we headed to the gorgeous village of Wold Newton. Here the Gypsey Race flows freely and indeed supports a rather nice duck pond in the centre of the village. Our plan was to find the Wold Newton Barrow otherwise known as Ba'l Hill, a place identified in the TMA but only marked down as 'tumulus' on the OS map. Finding it was not hard. It lies in a field on the outskirts of the village it can be easily reached by going through a gate at the end of the street and following the race all of 50 yards to it. The Hill is not spectacular but I enjoyed being here much more than Willy Howe. The race in full flow and in such close proximity made it a bit more special. I could have done with taking a rest and enjoying a cup of tea of its summit however that would have involved forward thinking and I'm not great with that. From the top of the mound, its neighbour Willy Howe's tree covered summit can easily be seen.

Our nest stop was the tiny village of Foxholes which according to the map in the TMA, the source of the steam is. My companion entertained us with stories of his youth on the way there. He entertained us with recollections of boredom, staying in the village whilst on holiday as a youth. The highlight of his time being a trip to the now non-existant mushroom farm. Indeed there isn't much of Foxholes at all apart from the supposed source of the Gypsey Race that is.

Alas even this boast is not entirely true. The race merely disappears underground at the village only to re-appear along the road to Weaverthorpe a couple of miles down the road. There is much more to the complex of the Gypsey Race than meets the eye, namely Duggleby Howe one of the largest neolithic barrows ever found in Britain. It is the Howe that really marks the start of the ceremonial centre of the Gypsey Race for its true source is only a short distance away in a thicket on the outskirts of the tiny village of Wharram Le Street which in turn lies next to the ancient and abandoned village of Wharram Percy.

Duggleby Howe can easily be seen on approach from the village of Duggleby. It stands dominant on the brow of a hill overlooking the village. Alas its true majesty was disguised slightly by the wheat that was growing around us. My friend Andy had been suffering from hayfever quite badly all day and during the walk through the field his sinuses were giving him some serious problems. I'm sure the joy of reaching the top of the Howe was worth it despite his agony. I consoled myself afterwards with the thought that the tears streaming down his face were those of joy rather than the results of the pollen bombarding his senses.

With that our first days worth of touring was completed. We headed back to Rudston where we had booked ourselves into a room for the night. Early the next morning we used this base to explore the tiny village and take the opportunity to walk along the Race which trickled through. As one walks along pockets of air bubbles can be seen continuously rising from the river bed, air being squeezed out from pockets of air in the caves below.

We had not done the area around Rudston justice when we first visited. We were on a schedule and couldn't really deviate. Today we could be more relaxed and take things at a more leisurely pace. Following our exploration of Rudston we headed along the road to Burton Agnes and onto the summit of Beacon Hill. This is the highest place in the area and the place on which the Romans chose to build their road, Woldgate, directly across. We made our way to the summit using the OS map as our guide and were slightly saddened to see that our view to Rudston was obscured by a pesky copse of trees. Further down the hill along the Woldgate towards Southside mount, a much better view can be seen of Rudston church. Beacon Hill doesn't look like it should be that high but when you get on top you can see all around and the views, despite annoying copses, are tremendous.

On then to Southside Mount, which in its day would have been much more than just a grass covered mound. Its proximity to beacon Hill means that it would have easily been seen from there. It too would also have had a view of the monolith at Rudston and like its neighbour opposite, its view is also obstructed by a copse of trees. To get there we had a short hike of not more than half a kilometre from the road. The mound was easily found with the help of our trusty OS map nestling in the middle of a fledgling potato field. I was glad we found it so easily, we dodged our way through the crops and clambered onto the grass covered dome. Someone had been there before us, doing what I don't know but the grass was all flattened so make your own conclusions.

From here we thought a trip to the seaside would be nice. Given our proximity to the sea we thought it rude not to. Bridlington was a mere few miles away and we'd also be able to see where the Gypsey Race meets its end.

In actual fact the end of this magical flow is not entirely spectacular, it flows underground through the coastal town of Bridlington and into the North Sea at Bridlington harbour taking the sewage of Bridlington town with it. An unseemly end for a stream which was used to being held in such high esteem.

This was indeed a sad demise and Bridlington is not the most exiting of coastal towns. With this thought we drove out of the Harbour car park and towards the town of Flamborough and Danes Dyke.

Danes Dyke is a fantastic structure. Whether it had anything to do with the people that built the centre around the Gypsey Race I have no idea but I do know that this is a great place. The Dyke literally cuts off Flamborough head from the rest of the mainland and even now the size of it leaves you in awe just thinking of how someone could have constructed such a thing.

We are lucky that these days, parts of the Dyke are protected as a park and you can walk along it to its end. We parked up and did just that, the Dyke is huge when you walk along side it and then when you reach its end the view of the coastline is so fantastic. A worthy trip in anyones book and had we not had only one day left to explore as much of this area as possible I would have loved to have walked its length.

At Flamborough we dined on Fish and Chips and walked to the end of the head, seeing the lighthouse and also visiting the much less heralded lighthouse further inland. Now in the middle of a golf course, this lighthouse is actually the oldest in Britain despite its distance from the coastline or any form of nuisance rocks. Back in the day, ships had to pay a toll to go past a lighthouse and so the primary objective was not to save lifes but to get money. How it worked I have no idea but information plaques can be extremely good sources of information.

We returned inland and back through the Dyke, again looking mightily impressive from the road. This time the plan was to visit Spell Howe, a tumulus mentioned in the TMA but not covered on this website. I could not understand why this was but as soon as I found it I understood. The tumulus of Spell Howe is located within the grounds of a farmers garden. Not just any farm but a fort knox type place with beware of the dog signs, intercom and infra-red gate opening mechanisms. I had initially been confused by what my OS map was telling me and I walked all around the field at the side of the house to see if I could catch a glimpse of the mound. I was wrong, the mound is actually very easy to see, its just beyond the gate and is bang next to the roadside. We tried buzzing the intercom for a better look but nobody was home so the pictures that we took were from the outside. Again the placing is obvious, on the brow of a hill overlooking a valley, Spell Howe is at the top most point and could probably have been seen for miles.

We followed this with a trip to its neighbour, Sharpe Howe, again Julian marks this on his map of the region in the TMA. Our initial disappointment of not being able to see Spell Howe immediately had been overcome when we actually did find it. How we hoped that Sharpe Howe would continue our jubilation.

Unfortunately the ancient Neolithic monument of sharpe Howe is now a farmers dumping ground with sacks of rubbish, bails of hay and farm equipment strewn around it. The mound looks sad and more akin to a rubbish pile than the once proud hill that it probably once was.

After a quick clamber up and then down we decided upon one last port of call. A trip down the Wolds way to see the Kirkheads and the site of the Folkton Drum Barrow, which according to the TMA, could be aligned with Beacon Hill over eight miles away.

There is nothing to see, we followed the Way and were rewarded by some really quite beautiful scenery but the fields were far too full of crops and ploughed out to see anything at all. We headed to the Camp and then back again, I suffered sunburn and my companions hayfever didn't get better. The walk was wonderful though and the area and shape of the hills and valley floor reminded me very much of the Uffington White Horse and the Manger below.

There is indeed much more to the area around the Gypsey Race than meets the eye and I can only speculate as to what went on here in years past. Whatever it was, the Gypsey was a stream which inspired peoples to great things and although a lot of its course has changed and despite its unseemly end, it still plays an important role in the historical landscape of the Wolds.

The Gypsey Race — Images

10.06.04ce
<b>The Gypsey Race</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>The Gypsey Race</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Willy Howe — Images

10.06.04ce
<b>Willy Howe</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Spell Howe — Images

10.06.04ce
<b>Spell Howe</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Spell Howe</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Spell Howe — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
We returned inland and back through the Dyke, again looking mightily impressive from the road. This time the plan was to visit Spell Howe, a tumulus mentioned in the TMA but not covered on this website. I could not understand why this was but as soon as I found it I understood. The tumulus of Spell Howe is located within the grounds of a farmers garden. Not just any farm but a fort knox type place with beware of the dog signs, intercom and infra-red gate opening mechanisms. I had initially been confused by what my OS map was telling me and I walked all around the field at the side of the house to see if I could catch a glimpse of the mound. I was wrong, the mound is actually very easy to see, its just beyond the gate and is bang next to the roadside. We tried buzzing the intercom for a better look but nobody was home so the pictures that we took were from the outside. Again the placing is obvious, on the brow of a hill overlooking a valley, Spell Howe is at the top most point and could probably have been seen for miles.

Sharp Howes — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
We followed this with a trip to its neighbour, Sharpe Howe, again Julian marks this on his map of the region in the TMA. Our initial disappointment of not being able to see Spell Howe immediately had been overcome when we actually did find it. How we hoped that Sharpe Howe would continue our jubilation.

Unfortunately the ancient Neolithic monument of sharpe Howe is now a farmers dumping ground with sacks of rubbish, bails of hay and farm equipment strewn around it. The mound looks sad and more akin to a rubbish pile than the once proud hill that it probably once was.

Rudston Monolith — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
The Rudston Monolith stands proud in the yard of the local church. A truly massive and awe-inspiring feature it stands 26 feet above ground with a lot more below. The monolith from the road gives the impression that it is much smaller, indeed my companion said to me at the time that it only looked the same size as the stones of Callanish. As soon as you get close though, it really does hit you. It is gargantuan, enormous, huge, this is something else, a lone monolith standing proud. How many odds must it have defied to stay standing in a place which has clearly been Christianised. I would wager that the only reason it did survive is because of its size. Indeed at one point in its history a cross had been placed upon its top. Not there any more I hasten to add! Now its crown is adorned by a metal helmet to help prevent erosion.

I had heard a rumour that the site was formally surrounded by a stone circle. I do not feel that this is folly! Of all the places that a stone circle should have stood this is surely it although there are no real remains of it left. The outer wall church yard is made up of red brick so no clues there. No sarsens remain in the walls to tell us their story. But the fact that a church has been built slap bang next to a clear Neolithic structure should be clue enough. Also part of the boundary walls look as though they could have once been circular. If that isn't enough there are earthworks in the grounds of the churchyard which go round in a circular motion. Maybe I'm reading too much into things but its all very coincidental. Plus it also appears that the church and the churchyard have been built on a mound with clear earthworks visible - further signs?

Rudston Monolith — Images

10.06.04ce
<b>Rudston Monolith</b>Posted by notjamesbond

The Gypsey Race — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
Of all the neolithic centres in Britain, one that has always held a special interest to me is the area built up around the Gypsey Race stream. Not least because the last place you expect to see a centre such as this is on my doorstep in the East Yorkshire wolds.

The name of the Gypsey Race also has certain romantic connotations. In the TMA Julian was told by a Bridlington book seller that the name of the river was such because it 'wandered around all over'. Whilst it does indeed meander all through this area, that is not really the reasoning behind the name.

A Gypsey river or stream is simply one which flows overland in certain parts and underground in others. At times of high rainfall the underground water levels from which the Gypsey survives breaks out overland and sometimes within a couple of hours a previously dry riverbed can become a raging torrent.

During the research for my trip to I'd come across lots of references to egends about the Race foretelling doom when in full flow. More references told me that the Race was only actually in full flow every two years or so.

I would suggest that to the Neolthic peoples who built there monuments around this river, this place was made ever more important because of the nature of the Gypsey. How amazing it must have been for the river to be suddenly dry and then because the underground water levels were full suddenly become a torrent. For a people who seemed to place great emphasis on nature and the 'Goddess' this life giving flow must have been a sight truly amazing to them. I don't see this river as being an omen for doom, rather a giver of life to be celebrated and not vilified.

Little Argham Henge — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
Our next point of call was to see if anything remained of the Little Argham Henge. The OS map showed the henge as being in a supposedly easy to find spot at the corner of two roads on the Maidens Grave hill. Also the Gypsey Race runs straight past it. According to local sources burials had been discovered here within a triangular structure at least four trackways led to it over the wolds. Given its proximity to Rudston and it being in direct alignment with the monolith, one suspects that the place was once of great importance.

Alas, farmers and father time care not one jot for former influence. The Henge was a massive disappointment. It has indeed been totally ploughed out and there are no signs of it that I could see from the ground. Add to this the added disappointment of seeing the Race for the first time – totally bone dry and rather anti-climactic! Ah well I understood that the race could be free flowing in some parts and dry in others such is the nature of the Gypsey.

Willy Howe — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
From Burton Fleming we made our way to Willy Howe, a tree covered artificial mound, which had been hollowed out by excavators in the past. The Howe is in a dominant setting on the brow of a hill overlooking the race and can be easily seen on approach from the village. You can clamber through the thick undergrowth and onto the top of the howe but once you get there you are conforted with a steep drop into the middle. The place is totally overgrown and quite literally you can get into the belly of the mound where trees now grow.

Ba'l Hill — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
From Willy Howe we headed to the gorgeous village of Wold Newton. Here the Gypsey Race flows freely and indeed supports a rather nice duck pond in the centre of the village. Our plan was to find the Wold Newton Barrow otherwise known as Ba'l Hill, a place identified in the TMA but only marked down as 'tumulus' on the OS map. Finding it was not hard. It lies in a field on the outskirts of the village it can be easily reached by going through a gate at the end of the street and following the race all of 50 yards to it. The Hill is not spectacular but I enjoyed being here much more than Willy Howe. The race in full flow and in such close proximity made it a bit more special. I could have done with taking a rest and enjoying a cup of tea of its summit however that would have involved forward thinking and I'm not great with that. From the top of the mound, its neighbour Willy Howe's tree covered summit can easily be seen.

Duggleby Howe — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
There is much more to the complex of the Gypsey Race than meets the eye, namely Duggleby Howe one of the largest neolithic barrows ever found in Britain. It is the Howe that really marks the start of the ceremonial centre of the Gypsey Race for its true source is only a short distance away in a thicket on the outskirts of the tiny village of Wharram Le Street which in turn lies next to the ancient and abandoned village of Wharram Percy.

Duggleby Howe can easily be seen on approach from the village of Duggleby. It stands dominant on the brow of a hill overlooking the village. Alas its true majesty was disguised slightly by the wheat that was growing around us. My friend Andy had been suffering from hayfever quite badly all day and during the walk through the field his sinuses were giving him some serious problems. I'm sure the joy of reaching the top of the Howe was worth it despite his agony. I consoled myself afterwards with the thought that the tears streaming down his face were those of joy rather than the results of the pollen bombarding his senses.

Dane's Dyke — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
Danes Dyke is a fantastic structure. Whether it had anything to do with the people that built the centre around the Gypsey Race I have no idea but I do know that this is a great place. The Dyke literally cuts off Flamborough head from the rest of the mainland and even now the size of it leaves you in awe just thinking of how someone could have constructed such a thing.

We are lucky that these days, parts of the Dyke are protected as a park and you can walk along it to its end. We parked up and did just that, the Dyke is huge when you walk along side it and then when you reach its end the view of the coastline is so fantastic. A worthy trip in anyones book and had we not had only one day left to explore as much of this area as possible I would have loved to have walked its length.

Kirkheads — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
After a quick clamber up and then down we decided upon one last port of call. A trip down the Wolds way to see the Kirkheads and the site of the Folkton Drum Barrow, which according to the TMA, could be aligned with Beacon Hill over eight miles away.

There is nothing to see, we followed the Way and were rewarded by some really quite beautiful scenery but the fields were far too full of crops and ploughed out to see anything at all. We headed to the Camp and then back again, I suffered sunburn and my companions hayfever didn't get better. The walk was wonderful though and the area and shape of the hills and valley floor reminded me very much of the Uffington White Horse and the Manger below

The Gypsey Race — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
Our nest stop was the tiny village of Foxholes which according to the map in the TMA, the source of the stream is. My companion entertained us with stories of his youth on the way there. He entertained us with recollections of boredom, staying in the village whilst on holiday as a youth. The highlight of his time being a trip to the now non-existant mushroom farm. Indeed there isn't much of Foxholes at all apart from the supposed source of the Gypsey Race that is.

Alas even this boast is not entirely true. The race merely disappears underground at the village only to re-appear along the road to Weaverthorpe a couple of miles down the road. There is much more to the complex of the Gypsey Race than meets the eye, namely Duggleby Howe one of the largest neolithic barrows ever found in Britain. It is the Howe that really marks the start of the ceremonial centre of the Gypsey Race for its true source is only a short distance away in a thicket on the outskirts of the tiny village of Wharram Le Street which in turn lies next to the ancient and abandoned village of Wharram Percy.

Ba'l Hill — Images

10.06.04ce
<b>Ba'l Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Ba'l Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Duggleby Howe — Images

10.06.04ce
<b>Duggleby Howe</b>Posted by notjamesbond

South Side Mount — Images

10.06.04ce
<b>South Side Mount</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>South Side Mount</b>Posted by notjamesbond

South Side Mount — Fieldnotes

10.06.04ce
On then to Southside Mount, which in its day would have been much more than just a grass covered mound. Its proximity to beacon Hill means that it would have easily been seen from there. It too would also have had a view of the monolith at Rudston and like its neighbour opposite, its view is also obstructed by a copse of trees. To get there we had a short hike of not more than half a kilometre from the road. The mound was easily found with the help of our trusty OS map nestling in the middle of a fledgling potato field. I was glad we found it so easily, we dodged our way through the crops and clambered onto the grass covered dome. Someone had been there before us, doing what I don't know but the grass was all flattened so make your own conclusions.

Little Argham Henge — Images

11.06.04ce
<b>Little Argham Henge</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Weblog

From Marlborough to Marden, walking in the footsteps of the ancients


So the urge had finally caught up with me! A brief tour of the country had taken in a brief glimpse of Silbury Hill and the shortest stop on record for visit to Avebury. How impressive both these sites are and how full of history the area must be. I felt shame that I did not know much about this area despite my professed interest in Neolithic monuments. I have a copy of TMA at home and I had glanced at the pages concerning this area but had never had the drive to get up and visit it for any sustained amount of time. This was not a good situation and had to come to an end!

Returning home to Yorkshire after my brief UK tour I made plans to return within the next few days. Gourging myself on knowledge from TMA and more helpfully from fieldnotes made by members of this site, I drew up an itinerary and set off to the Marlborough Downs, well, almost…

I had convinced my father to come along, he had a couple of days off work and I was on holiday from mine. We booked a youth hostel in Stow on the Wold, an attractive village in the Cotswolds and not a million miles away from the Rollright Stones. What a good place to start. True they are not part of the Avebury complex but they are well known and they would provide the perfect first stop off point. Upon reaching said monument I was appalled by what I saw…

The stones had been daubed with yellow paint, each and every one, an April fools gag by all accounts. A notice on the board near to the stones said that the cost of removing the paint would run to a minimum of £30,000. Why so high? Well the paint has seriously damaged the lichen growing on the stones. The lichen, which is said to be 800 years old, is one of the oldest recorded colonies in Britain. A £1000 reward has been posted to anyone who has information leading to the capture of the mindless fools who did this and a local coven of white witches have cursed the perpetrators for their actions.

As fortune would have it, the other monuments in the complex had not been touched by the paint smearing vandals. The King stone looked impressive in the afternoon sun but what a shame that it was caged behind iron bars. The stone is said to be that of a king in days gone by, a witch promised him Britain if he could see the nearby town of Long Compton. He couldn't see it because his line of site was impaired by a nearby hill. The poor guy was turned to stone as his reward and his men became the rollrights. A bit harsh I thought, especially now that this area seems to be a favoured picnic spot amongst young couples. Mind you, who could blame them, the view down from the stone to the valley below is wonderful.

The other part of the complex are the Whispering Knights located in the field opposite from the Kings stone and at the same side of the road but further down from the Rollrights. These poor guys seemed to get ignored by the many tourists who came to look at the circle whilst we were there. I'm not sure that a lot of the people visiting actually knew that they were there quietly nestling at the far end of the field. I can't quite understand this apathy as it really isn't a long walk to them.

We arrived in Stow on the Wold only the check in and to go straight back out. I had spotted a couple of alleged monuments on the 'Cotswolds Tourist Map' recently purchased from the local information centre. This whole area is deep in old roman territory and there are plenty of links to that era, from villas to the road on which we travelled south the monuments spotted on our map, the Fosse Way.

Our first destination of the ever darkening evening was to see something called the Hangmans stone! Very macabre we anticipated it being a most impressive monument, alas what we got couldn't have been further from the truth. If the truth is known the monument was so unimpressive I can't even be sure whether we found it or not. Although I am convinced that we did find two sarsens, of sorts, however these were most certinaly not in their original positions. They had been the victims of field clearance and now made up a wall which penned in a number of growing saplings.

We had a job to find these stones. The map directed us to the village of Northleach, we took the road to Oxpens Farm and it was just after the turn off for there that we parked. Having searched around the area for the Hangmans stone, it was concluded that the only sarsens of note that this could be were they stones making up this wall. I would very much like to be proved wrong some day by antiquarians with much better stone finding abilities than me but for now it appears that these make up Hangmans stone.

Following on from this disappointment we headed towards the next alleged monument, the Hoar Stone. This was situated off the A417 towards Cirencester, taking the turnoff towards Duntisbourne Leer. The 'stone' is situated to the left in the middle of a field before the first turnoff to your left once through the village. Of course its not just a stone but a long barrow, and it is noticeable. The capstone is still there along with another dominant stone which now has a tree growing next to it. After the debacle of the Hangmans stone, this was a very pleasing result!!!

We then headed to the village of Bisley, not a million miles away, but, because of the way the roads ran, it may have well been. As the crow flies the distance between the Giants Stone near to Bisley and the Hoar stone was not far at all but the fact that it took 40 minutes to get there testifys to the difficulty of navigating the roads in this part of the world.

The Giants stone is allegedly located on the road out of Bisley towards Battlescombe. This road ends and there the stone should be on the right. It was a case of déjà vu because despite a thorough sweep of the area I could not find it for love nor money. I did find however a number of inquisitive sheep and a road that should have ended but didn't which added to my confusion. Next time I shall arm myself with an OS map and use the visitors map for reference only.

We returned via the viewpoint at Barrow Wake near Gloucester and bedded down for the night, in, as it customary in youth hostels, a dormitory full of men!!!

I awoke of 5 to the sound of rumbling, I attempted to get back to sleep but could not. What was this noise? Could it be my stomach? No I had eaten before I retired! Could it be an earthquake? Don't be silly we don't get earthquakes here, not severe ones anyway! Could it be the guy in the bunk opposite snoring his head off and preventing me from a good nights kip? Of course it was!!!

Actually although I was bitter at the time, the gentleman and his nasal orchestra did me a favour by not allowing me back to sleep. For without this disruption I would not have gotten up, and if I had not have got up, I would not have set off in the early hours to the Uffington White Horse.

The roads were clear and dawn was beginning to break as we left the hostel. We wound our way through the many picture postcard villages of the area and ended up at the White Horse for 7 in the morning. Not another soul was around, it was slighty damp and dreary but this mattered not one jot as the peace was serene. With great forethought we had prepared a flask with the intention of enjoying a cup of tea at the top, there our plan was to drink it and soak up the wonderful views of the valley known as the Manger below.

Legend abounds this area, the favourite of mine being that the horse is actually a representation of the Dragon slain by St. George. The place of said slaying was upon the nearby Dragon Hill. This seemingly unnaturally shaped hill boasts a large chalk patch upon its summit on which nothing will grow. This patch is said to be the place where the Dragons blood fell and hence will remain forever barren.

Further up from the White Horse towards the Ridgeway is Uffington Castle, an iron age hill fort upon which evidence of great wooden structures were found, as well as an iron age coin. People residing in this place chose a good vantage point, it was possible to see for miles even on a damp overcast days such as this.

The next point of call when in this area has to be Waylands Smithy! We joined the Ridgeway having crossed over the castle ramparts and headed west to walk the one and a half miles towards it. The walk dragged a bit. The Ridgeway in this section is not particularly exciting and therefore seems longer than it is. At one point we thought we'd taken a wrong turn and had to ask a jogger for confirmation of where the Smithy was. Sure enough though it was there sitting within a copse in the middle of a field. The Smithy was also looking surprisingly well maintained for its age. I wondered aloud if this was because of its proximity to the White Horse.

Excavations in 1919 revealed the skeletons of 8 adults and 1 child within the two main chambers and further excavations in 1962 revealed 14 more. The place gets its name from the blacksmith who lived there. It was said that if you left your horse tethered along with some coins on the stone overnight, then the horse would be found shod come morning.

Waylands Smithy is of course not really a Smithy but a long barrow and is believed to date from around 3400BCE. From within its chambers we poured another cup of tea and decided upon which spot would be easiest to get to next…

Now Swindon is not the sort of town you would normally associate with the Neolithic, true its proximity to some of the great sites is enviable but Swindon is very much a sprawling 'new town'. It therefore came as a great surprise to see a stone circle marked on the OS map just south of the place between Coate and Coate Country Park at 183.824.

The circle is very easy to miss for there is nothing on the site to say what it is and the stones are unspectacular at best. We drove straight past and headed towards the huge ringroad at the end of the lane which was of course far too far. On our return we spotted the stones laying in an ark in the farmers field opposite the first barn we came to. Five stones were all that I could see but I dare say it would have been fairly sizeable. From the remaining stones you can indeed get a good idea of its size. A brief glance over towards the farm buildings revealed nothing that could have been the second half of the circle but condsidering the building work going on in that area this was not suprising.

Time was now stretching on and we decided to try and get a bite to eat. Our next destination was to be the hill fort at Barbury Castle, an area which is now a country park. Upon arriving our delight was assured by the presence of a café which sold full English breakfasts. We were not the only people there, the area seemed to be popular with dog walkers and families.

The area has been settled for many years probably due to its dominant position overlooked everything it surveys. Bronze age disc barrows have been discovered at the site as well as later Iron age burials. Legend has it also that the site was the scene of a great battle between the Saxons and the celts in around 550CE. A battle, which, may have gone a long way to the establishment of the kingdom of Wessex.

From the castle we set off towards Winterbourne Bassett where we had heard there was a stone circle. Again using the fieldnotes taken from this site (very helpful thank you) we found the place without any difficulty. Marking the site is an outlying stone at the junction of the road, opposite, over a style in the field the two nearest stones of the circle can be seen. Upon further inspection I found four more. Although the site has probably suffered damage in years past I was able to gain a sense of how it could have looked. There are three outlying stones which form a triangle around the four inner stones. The four inner stones are positioned in such a way that it would be feasible to assume that at some point there would have been a fifth which would have made up the circle.

Afterward we decided to head toward the white horse figure carved onto the nearby hackpen hill which overlooks this area. As we drove toward it at OS ref 118.757 in the field to our left we saw what appeared to be a standing stone. There was no reference to it anywhere so far as I could see, but it was there, approximately 50 yards from the road. I have posted it on this site to see what everyone else thinks. The horse in the background certinaly gave it a good backdrop although that is anything but Neolithic.

One place that had intrigued me since reading about it in the TMA was that of Marlborough Mount, alleged to be a close relative of Silbury Hill yet laying neglected in the grounds of a private school. The mound from which the town takes its name is indeed seemingly forgotten about by the locals. There is no plaque, the mound is overgrown and untidy and on top is a horrendous construction which I believe is a water tank.

The setting however within Marlborough college promises much. Although you wouldn't expect to walk into a school to see such a monument as soon as you do it becomes apparent that this is no ordinary school. It is the sort of school with rebellious rich kids sporting foppish hairstyles, blazers, oversize suits and shirt tails hanging out over their trousers. The sort of school which best resembles the typical English sterotype of the way all schools in this country are no matter how untrue.

The grounds are lovingly and painstakingly manicured, but the mound that was there before the school was even thought of, has been left to overgrow and the vast majority of the pupils there probably have no idea of its potential importance.

From the mount after wandering through the lovely town of Marlborough we headed towards the Devils Den, a dolmen of which I am convinced only part of remains. The rest of the structure seems to be lying in clearance at the edge of the field.

We parked upon the verge of the road next to the farm and walked the alleged one and a half miles towards the monument, our guidance on distance being taken from a very weathered signpost at the entrance of the track leading to the site.

Just beyond a quaint looking barn in a field beyond and to the left lies the dolmen. It looks impressive just as structures like these should look. Seeing the rest of the stones laying along the side of the field however make you despair. That they must have been once something to do with this monument seems obvious. I wonder how much grander it would have appeared with them in situ.

But the day was now beginning to become long. There are lots of things to see in this area and in the limited time that we had, we sure were packing them in. Soon it would be time to bed down in the sweet B & B we had booked in the tiny hamlet of Winterbourne Abbas.

Tomorrow would be just as full a day but first we had more pressing things to do like visit Avebury, the legendary Silbury Hill and a former timber temple on a place called Overton Hill, the Sanctuary.

The sanctuary was just that, in days gone by, a huge timber structure, the postholes of which have now been filled with horrendous concrete blocks. The Sanctuary looks down upon the valley below and must have played a significant part in the pre-history of this area. Of course it would have been more Sanctuary like had the A4 not been directly next to it and the lorries did not thunder past at such breakneck speeds.

Next door to the circle are the Seorfon Barrows immediately noticeable if approaching from Marlborough. The burial mounds sit proud upon the brow of the hill and appear to form the arched back of some long forgotten serpent. I counted four on the other side of the road from the Sanctuary and a much more overgrown one on the path leading down the Sanctuary side.

Now for the main event, my father despite cycling around the area in his youth had never visited the place. He had heard about it of course but without ever really seeing Avebury I can imagine that it is difficult to understand just how impressive this site is. As soon as you enter and see the town, whether it be along the Avenue of Stones or any other way, the sight is breathtaking and awe-inspiring.

We chose to park in the NT car park and set off not towards the town, but towards Silbury Hill. There is a path that leads there from opposite the entrance to the car park. The path runs along the lovely River Kennett and the hill is only a short hike really. The river can be crossed at a sweet little bridge and the path turns and heads towards West Kennett and the Silbury Hill car park. Access to the hill is now forbidden in order to help preserve the monument. Truly this is an amazing structure and along with the Avebury stones has to go down as one of the wonders of England.

Back over the bridge the path leads up toward Waden Hill, Silburys more natural neighbour. At the time we clambered up the hill was lush with green and the flowers of Spring. Given the lovely blue sky nothing could have been more perfect at that moment. The view of Silbury in the background was exquisite and once on top the view of the surrounding area, divine.

We headed down from the hill into the Avenue of Stones and walked through until we came to the edge of the village. We entered and walked along the path at the top of the earthwork on the rim of the village, breathtaking. Some of the stones are now fenced off in order to protect them but the majority you can reach out and touch. The village itself is delightful some nice and interesting books and spiritual bits and pieces can be found in the local shops.

From the village our last stop of the day was to be West Kennett long barrow. We hopped in the car and drove the short distance there (our legs now far too tired to carry us far) and parked in the layby at the side of the road. As the time was now dusk, the only people we saw were walking back from the barrow. Once there we had the place to ourselves. The chambers are impressive, as is the façade and the barrow itself is lovingly maintained, the view from the top was wonderful too. During excavation of the barrow in 1956, the remains of 46 people were found within its chambers.

Having finished for the day we headed back to Marlborough and dined in the Bear pub apparently renowned for its fish and chips. We enjoyed them and a starter of leek soup before we were joined by the local town crier on an ale tasting mission. By all accounts as part of his responsibilities he has to taste the ale and issue a certificate accordingly. We wondered at the time if after he'd done he'd go to the local kebab house and sample one of those too.

The siting for our stay that evening could not have been better. Winterbourne Abbas allowed us to investigate the areas of interest around the Vale of Pewsey of which there were many.

Having polished off a lovely organic full English breakfast in the morning we headed to our first point of call which was Pewsey Church. We had heard that sarsen stones made up the base of the church at certain points and we were eager to take a look.

Sure enough as you walked up to the entrance of the church and went along the right hand wall there they were. Three stones making up keystones to the base of the church. As the church was on a hill I wondered aloud whether, if there ever was a stone circle in Pewsey, then this may have been the location. Local legend has it that one was destroyed so its not an unfeasible thought I daresay.

Further into the village beyond the co-op car park and nestling next to the bridge crossing the stream stand what could possibly be the remains of the monument. They form a border with the path at this point and to my mind must have been placed there by town planners. Clearance stones probably connected with these possibly with the stones at Pewsey church nestled unloved in the background. The stones themselves were nestled at the foot of the hill upon which the church now stands. Maybe this was the location of an original circle and the keystones were moved up to the church who knows!!

Heading out of the village we set off for a place known as Swanborough Tump. A great battle was fought here in the year 871 and people with the name Swanborough can link there ancestary back to this. I wasn't expecting to be able to see much. The fieldnotes had warned me of this but what I could see opposite was the brows of two conical imposing hills, Picked Hill and Woodborough hill. Picked Hill particularly was imposing its conical shape reminded me of Silbury and Marlborough Mount. Its neighbour Woodborough too had the same shape. I again wondered whether all these hills could have one point been linked.

Heading past the tump we decended upon the village of Woodborough. Here a holed stone lays at the side of the road with a plaque in front dedicating it to the memory of people who fought for peace and freedom in the fifty years since the end of world war 2. The map reference for the stone is 108.568.

History abounds this place and from Woodborough we headed to a place which this time was actually marked on the Ordance Survey. A place known as the hanging stone. We actually took a wrong turn and ended up at the nearby Hursts Farm. There we encountered the farmers wife and her children with their quad bikes. We asked for directions and although the farmers wife didn't know anything about the stone the kids certinaly did. They directed us to it and also told us a legend about how years ago a sheep thief got his cape stuck on the stone when trying to escape the clutches of an angry farmer. It got stuck so fast that the cape actually strangled the thief to death hence the name hanging stone

The stone was approximately a half mile down the track heading straight on past the barn. To the right a number of sarsens the victims of field clearance and at one point probably part of this monument nestled forgotten in a copse. Further up the Hanging stone protruded through the ploughed field. We headed on up thankful that the weather had dried out the land otherwise we would have gotten very muddy.

Returning to the car from the stone we headed to our next Christianised site, that of St. Marys Church, Alton Priors. It is confusing because there are too churches and one is signposted from the road 'St. Marys Saxon Church' go there if you like but this is not the one of Neolithic interest.

A further bonus other than the church and the pleasant setting about Alton Priors is the sarsen stone sitting directly in the middle of the village. We discovered from an elderly local that the stone had been originally placed in a nearby field and removed unfortunately he did not remember in which field it was discovered. Upon the stone is a carving of the horse which stands proud on the hill overlooking the village. The horse was carved by an American expert in crop circles who comes to the village every year to discuss the crop circle frenzy around these parts. The centre of his organisation actually meet in a pub nearby called the Barge Inn alas we didn't have time to go in.

Down from the sarsen is the church, situated in a lovely field absolutely choca-block full of barrows. The church grounds are fenced off from the field and you need to clamber over a style to get into them. It's a pretty church of that there is no doubt, in the grounds there is a lovely Yew tree which, it is claimed, is 1700 years old.

Inside the church, which is no longer in constant use, the first trap door in the floor can be seen. Lifting it up reveals the sarsen itself. Whoever laid this floor had good foresight in thinking that people may come here just to see that. There is another trapdoor nearer the front of the church but it cannot be lifted up as there is a makeshift step which has been built over it.

Next step was another highlight of the trip. Again having read about the place in TMA I was intrigued and wanted to go. The location? Hatfield Barrow near the village of Marden. A structure not unlike Silbury in its day and scandalously destroyed. Whats worse, the remains of said barrow where bulldozed to one side by the farmer in later years.

I expected to have trouble finding it as all the sources said that there was nothing left to see. However we did have an approximate location on a makeshift map and when we arrived at the point on the map, directly opposite in a field was an information plaque. The plaque told the unhappy tale of this once great monument and we had found it much easier than expected.

There were mounds and ridges to be seen alright but I found it difficult to determine the exact location of the barrow especially following the bulldozing. But, at least I had been, in the flat landscape it would have stood out like a beacon. I can well imagine this too being part of the great Avebury complex.

We set off back up the road towards Knap Hill and prepared ourselves for a bit of walking. The weather was pleasant and in this particular area there were many hills of importance that we needed to climb. Knap Hill was the closest so we parked the car at the foot of the hill and clambered up. At the top of all the hills in this area are earthworks we clambered past the ditches and headed for the top from which we had the most tremendous of views. Golden Ball Hill, Adams Grave, Picked Hill and I should think at one point we would have been able to see Hatfield Barrow.

Along from the summit we headed for Golden Ball Hill. Slightly higher this is special because evidence of really ancient civilisations have been found here in the form of flint floors. Nothing much remains of the excavations now and it was quite impossible to guess where the excavations where other than assume the various indentions in the ground where them. I'd have liked there to have been a plaque or information board on some sort. If this place is indeed where the first settlers came to then I'd consider that a more than important piece of history.

From the top the views where again magnificent although, perhaps on account of the odd bush and tree the wind was not as severe as when on Knap Hill. From the summit both Knap and Adams Grave from the angle looking like a humped back bridge.

Wandering down the side of Golden Ball Hill earthworks dominate there are lots of them. The early settlers perhaps choosing here because of the view and the fact that it was actually quite sheltered from the wind.

We headed onto Adams Grave, the site of the huge barrow which was discovered on top. Again the walk was relatively easy and the earthworks are substantial, this whole area must have been a place of major importance. At the summit of the barrow again the view was breathtaking. We rested for some time at the top, not through tiredness but through awe. We really were looking through the eyes of the ancients for they had been here and all around this place.

It was with a heavy heart that we descended Adams Grave, hopping into the car with the intention of finding somewhere to stop for a cuppa. Our plan was to find a stream fill our kettle with water and boil it using the primus stove we had brought for such an occasion.

The only stream that we could think of was that near to Silbury and that wasn't a stream at all but a river. We made the decision to head back but on the way noticed an extreme amount of sarsen stones in a field near the village of Lockeridge. This came as a surprise I had not counted on seeing something like this, I wondered what monument this could be.

A plaque at the entrance to the sarsen field revealed that the area was under the protection of the national trust and that the sarsens were the remnants of sandstone deposits formed on the chalk over 30 million years ago. This is the same sort of sarsen that had been used for building material for the past 5000 years. I wondered whether any of the many sarsens around the area could have been taken from this place. It clearly was an important area and in very good proximity to Avebury itself.

We drove on and came to rest in the NT car park in Avebury, water was collected from the river and we drove to Longstone Cove where the plan was to boil it and make tea.

Whilst we sipped I read that Longstone Cove used to be made up of three giant stones not just the two that are now present. The other being used for building material by a Victorian vandal. The two remaining ones don't look that big even from the path but once you approach they are tremendous.

Down the way from the stones is Beckhampton barrow. It seems that now it is much easier to get to than a few years ago. The footpath runs along the side of the farm and there is a gap in the fence to the field on the left which you can wander through. The barrow can be clearly seen in the distance dominating the field with its thick copse of trees growing on top. There is a path that leads alongside so we took it but left it later on to get a better look.

It was difficult to tell where the entrance had been but I later read that it had been destroyed some time before. The whole shape remains though, there are many barrows which don't look like anything but this still does.

Our final destination before heading for the next hostel such outside of Wantage was another long barrow, this time at East Kennett. We headed for the village and parked outside the church. There is a footpath which runs through the farm but which does not officially run past the barrow. We cut through the farm and took a left turn following the tracker trail up towards the barrow. Sitting imposingly on the hilltop. From the barrow we could see all around Silbury and its neighbour at West Kennett. I was disappointed that there were not even any fallen sarsens that I could see which may have made up a façade of some description.

I was content though, the barrow was an impressive one. Huge but overgrown, full of history and possibilities. I'd packed a lot into this tour from Marlborough to Marden we had walked in the footsteps of the ancients.

Swanborough Tump — Images

19.04.04ce
<b>Swanborough Tump</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Swanborough Tump</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Silbury Hill — Images

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<b>Silbury Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Hangman's Stone, Hampnett — Images

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<b>Hangman's Stone, Hampnett</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Hangman's Stone, Hampnett</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Silbury Hill — Images

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<b>Silbury Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Golden Ball Hill — Images

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<b>Golden Ball Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Golden Ball Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Golden Ball Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Golden Ball Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Pewsey Church — Images

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<b>Pewsey Church</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Pewsey Church</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Pewsey Church</b>Posted by notjamesbond
<b>The Hoar Stone (Duntisbourne Abbots)</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>The Hoar Stone (Duntisbourne Abbots)</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Dragon Hill — Images

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<b>Dragon Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Dragon Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Waden Hill — Images

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<b>Waden Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Waden Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Winterbourne Bassett — Images

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<b>Winterbourne Bassett</b>Posted by notjamesbond

The Sanctuary — Images

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<b>The Sanctuary</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Overton Hill — Images

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<b>Overton Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Pewsey — Images

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<b>Pewsey</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Alton Priors — Images

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<b>Alton Priors</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Alton Priors</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Alton Priors</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Alton Priors</b>Posted by notjamesbond
<b>Marden Henge (and Hatfield Barrow)</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Marden Henge (and Hatfield Barrow)</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Knap Hill — Images

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<b>Knap Hill</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Adam's Grave — Images

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<b>Adam's Grave</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Woodborough Holed Stone — Images

19.04.04ce
<b>Woodborough Holed Stone</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Whiteleaf Cross Barrows — Images

31.08.01ce
<b>Whiteleaf Cross Barrows</b>Posted by RiotGibbon

Weblog

From Rum to Rodel, our search for all things historic


The plan was to head around Scotland and the isles for nine days and eight nights to see whatever it was we could see.

The supposed highlight of said trip would be a visit to the tiny inner hebredien islands of Rum and Eigg. In particular we would try to seek out the standing stones labelled on OS maps on both islands.

The journeys pace was slow to begin with, a night in Alston, the highest market town in England, was enhanced by its being a Saturday and the liquor flowed accordingly.

The following day a journey up north to Scotland! A stop off in the borders town of Moffat for Haggis with neeps and tatties. I have yet to find a place better than the Balmoral Hotel in this town at serving this particular Scottish delicacy. It really does set you up for the long drive up north.

We needed it too, after getting lost in Glasgow we decided to take a peek at Dumbarton Rock only to get lost in Dumbarton as well oops!

Eventually we ended up in Glencoe and were blessed in the fact that the set for the latest Harry Potter has been built up on the hillside. You can see Hagrids House, another construction that looks like it could be a passageway of somekind and, surprise surprise, a makeshift set of standing stones.

After trying to sneak onto said set for a better look our plan was scuppered by one of the many security guards manning the site. Well, at least the view wasn’t too bad from the road. The cast and crew by the way had taken the weekend off from filming, lucky them.

Ah well! Onto the famous Signal Rock! The Signal rock has a rather macabre history as it was from here that the signal was sent in 1692 to start the massacre of Glencoe when members of the Clan Campbell slaughtered their hosts the MacDonalds whilst they slept in their beds.

The rock is to be found by following a path away from Glencoe town into a wooded glade. About a mile from the Harry Potter set is the rock and atop the rock midgies reign supreme. It must be said any trip to this part of Scotland must come complete with lots of insect repellent.

As we rushed back along the path to the car, my eye caught a funny shaped rock just off the side of the path partly obscured by undergrowth and merging in quite well with the other rocks in the area. It looked like a standing stone although there is nothing to indicate this on the OS map. A puzzle indeed but it didn’t look like it should have been there so I took a couple of pics and have submitted accordingly, take a look and see what you think.

From Glencoe we moved on to Glen Nevis in a hostel at the foot of the mountain. We were greeted with woeful indifference and placed in a room with 22 other men to sleep for the night. Needless to say our time there was not pleasant and we could not wait to head along the Road to the Isles in the morning.

This road is really one of the most picturesque roads in Scotland. From Fort William to Mallaig we passed the Glenfinnan monument which commerates the first time Bonnie Prince Charlies standard was raised on Scottish soil. More recently Glenfinnan viaduct had a starring role in the movie ‘Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets’ (you know the bit where the car flys over the bridge – don’t tell me you’ve not seen it :-o).

In Mallaig we parked up the car and boarded the ferry to Rum. The plan was that we would have about two and a half hours on the island whilst the ferry sailed on to the neighbouring small isle of Canna. It would return and take us back to Eigg where we would stay the night.

Rum is a nature reserve and the only people who live there are wardens who look after the island. Visitors are welcome in the form of daytrippers like ourselves and hostellers who are able to stay for a few days at the hostel. Time was not our friend unfortunately and we had to make do with a few hours.

One of the previous owners of the island had built an impressive castle on the harbour at Kinloch. It is by far the most impressive of only a few buildings on the island. We took a peek and took the obligatory photos rejoicing in the baking heat that was beating down upon us.

Afterwards we made our way along a path which took us along the coast and through a number of ghost settlements long abandoned by there previous occupants and forgotten by all except those who wander here.

The Ordance Survey map indicated that the path ended after about a mile and a half along the coast. We reckoned that it would be another half a mile along the coast before we came to the standing stone which is clearly marked on the map but which no one else seemed to know anything about.

It was a brave attempt which ended up ultimately fruitless, the terrain did not aid our journey and eventually the sound of the ticking clock just grew too loud. We needed to head back to catch the ferry to Eigg

The sight we were greeted with as we ran red faced and out of breath to the new makeshift docks was not an encouraging one. That of a boat pulling away from the harbour and heading towards the rather larger Calmac ferry moored someway out laden with its cargo of daytripping passengers.

Our despair was compounded by the knowledge that the next ferry to Eigg was in two days time and the Calmac operators had no obligation to turn the shuttle ferry back to pick us up. We’d missed the boat and all we could do was hope that the captain of the ship would show a bit of mercy to the poor young fools standing heads bowed on the shore.

He did luckily for us, the shuttle boat picked us up and we were greeted with laughter and sly giggles by the girls behind the coffee shop counter. A cup of tea was sheepishly purchased and we relived our shame over a fine brew.

Eigg is the second largest of the small isles after Rum. The other small isles are Canna and Muck and none can be easily accessed by car ferry. On Eigg an island made famous by the fact the locals were able to buy back the land from there stay away landlord, this is a problem.

The island is the most populous of all the islands with a princely population of 78. There is a four mile road stretching from the port at Galmisdale to the small village of Cleadale on the north of the island. A car ferry would encourage more visitors to the island and encourage more people to come and live there. It would also enable someone to get all the disused rotten junk away from the island. Eigg is a stunningly beautiful place but it really is threatening to become disfigured by the sheer amount of fly tipping which seems to be going on.

The standing stone of Eigg is not to be confused with the monolith at the harbour commemorating the islands takeover by residents. This menhir stands proud looking over the new ferry terminal construction but the stone marked on the OS maps was about two miles further inland and pretty much in the centre of the island.

Walking there was pleasant and not strenuous, this stone was certainly easier to find than the one supposedly on the island of Rum, it was just off the side of the road, its always nice when they are so conveniently sited don’t you think?

After posing for the obligatory photographs we set off back along the road in the hope that it wouldn’t be too long before we reached the farm in which we were staying. After about half a mile we came upon another stone which didn’t look like it should have been there at all. This was smaller than the previous stone and was tilted at an angle. I again took some photos and named it the Eigg lesser stone ;-)

Eiggs geology is absolutely fascinating and its famous ‘scurr’ can be seen from all points of the island. It is the natural feature for which Eigg is most famous and dominates the landscape around. Basically it’s the largest columnar pitchstone of lava anywhere in Britain. It was formed at the same time as the island of Rum when the lava rushed up through the valley previously there to form an impressive summit. Eigg by the way is from the Scottish Gaelic Eag meaning ‘notch’, ‘nick’ or ‘gap’. A testimony to the shape of the island as seen from the sea.

We decided to take a short cut along a path which in theory cut our travelling distance by about half a mile. We followed the path through woodland and then through bog. My companion managed to fall into a thorn bush scarring his legs. Eventually we came to the end or so it seemed. Before us the northern tip of the island of Eigg spanned out before us. A breathtakingly beautiful sight it really is a shame that not many people have heard of the island let alone visited.

As we surveyed the scene the realisation soon dawned that we were in fact standing atop of a sheer cliff and the farm in which we were staying was in the valley bottom. The view was not enough to hold back our despair as we realised that somehow we had to find a way down.

But find a way we did. After fording a stream and a few more bogs we came upon a path leading to the farm. We were welcomed at the door and ushered into the dining room for home made tomato soup following by sheperds pie – bliss!

I could spend all day talking about Eigg but I will try to avoid going on too much. That evening we set off along the coast to a beach known by locals as the ‘squeaking sands’ so called because the sand is made of fine quartz crystals which ‘squeak’ underfoot. The geology on the beach was very interesting and we took a whole load of photos in the twilight.

The following day we wandered back along the road to the port. Stopping off at a derelict church which boasted a celtic cross, sadly being left to erode at the mercy of the elements. The church had a bloody history in itself. In 617AD St. Donan and his band of 52 followers were brutally murdered by pirates after establishing a monastery on the site.

Leaving Eigg, the trip to the mainland was uneventful, we stepped once more onto the shore at Mallaig and cast a forlorn look back from where we had come. In the time we spent waiting for the next boat to Skye (for that was our destination) we dined on Haggis once more. Although this was a disappointment after the delights of the Balmoral Hotel.

We arrived in Armadale on Skye after the short ferry journey ‘Over the Sea’. We were blessed as a petrol station with a staggeringly high rate of diesel was one of the first places we saw. We needed the gas so we filled up and headed onward along the beautiful south coast road. The weather was lovely and the sun beat down on the Cuilins ahead. We were lucky that day to get such perfect weather on an island famed for its mist.

Glen Brittle Youth Hostel was the destination at the foot of the Black Cuilin. Not far away was a chambered cairn by the name of ‘Rubh an Dunain’ which I think translated would mean fort on the headland. We’d have loved to have gone to visit it but from the end of the road it was another 3.7miles away along the coast. We just didn’t have time and so contented ourselves with Doritos and Salsa dip whilst we reviewed the footage filmed with our video camera that day.

We awoke in the morning to the sound of rain battering the windows and the wind howling loud outside. We had wanted to see the Old man of Storr on the other side of the island but in this weather chance would be a fine thing. We opted therefore to visit Dunvegan Castle the ancestral home of the Clan MacLeod and the oldest inhabited castle in Scotland. Dunvegan also played host to the famed ‘fairy flag’ which, when unfurled, legend has it, has the power to turn the tide of battle. It’s just a tattered bit of cloth now but according to the leaflet in the castle it actually dates from around 400AD.

On the way to Dunvegan we noticed a broch by the name of Dun Beag high up on the hill by the side of the road. The weather was against us but we managed to clamber up to the top where part of the stairway can still be seen as well as the overall shape of the building and side cells. From the top we enjoyed views looking out over Skye and Loch Caroy although we paid for them with fierce gales battering our reddened faces.

The castle at Dunvegan offered us shelter and warmth although the £6 entrance charge soon sent a chill back down our spines. The castle not only boasted the fairy flag but also a waistcoat worn by Bonnie Prince Charlie and the lock of his hair given by him to Flora Macdonald as he fled from Culloden pursued by government forces. The dungeons were particularly gruesome and there was an interesting display about St. Kilda in one of the corridors. Alas a group of sight seeing Americans were hogging the gift shop so buying momentoes would have proved tiring.

As time pressed on we headed for Uig, the port from which we were to sail to Tarbet on Harris. Considering the weather we did wonder whether or not the boat would be cancelled, but to be honest, we needn’t have worried. Calmac are an efficient organisation and they do not cancel boats at a “mere gust of wind”.

On the way to the ferry we passed the standing stones at Eyre. Looking out over the loch they shared a field with a rather large group of inquizitive cows who seemed to take pleasure in following us around. We walked briskly up to the stones, lingered for a minute until the cows had lost interest and then walked briskly back.

Following a fine meal at the ‘Pub on the Pier’ in Uig (we were fortunate in being able to sit next to a window overlooking the ever swelling sea) we made our way onto the boat for the two hour journey. The stodgy haggis had taken its toll and we both soundly slept thus not really appreciating the roughness of the Little Minch.

Harris is a peculiar place, full of extremes. On the west coast are beaches which surely match the finest on earth, yet on the east and in the north, the landscape is barren and rocky. Stanley Kubrick in filming his masterpiece 2001 A Space Odyssey used the rocky terrain of Harris as a double for Mars. Testament indeed to the out worldly nature of the place.

Across one of the beaches on the west side there is a signpost directing the traveller to a place known as ‘The Macleod Stone’. An impressive monolith perched on a hilltop looking out over to Taransay, the island made famous by the BBC’s survivor programme.

To get there is no chore although the beach does seem to stretch forever and apart from sinking in the soft sand and leaping over the odd channel it’s a pleasant trip. However, this is Harris, a place renowned for its unpredictable weather. As we reached the stone, the wind started to howl and the rain buffeted down. We took our pics and struggled back to the roadside fighting the elements.

Our destination, the restored and impressive looking St.Clements church on the very south of the Island in a village known as Rodel. Here we have another example of the Macleods leaving there mark. The church was built by them in the 16th century and is the final resting place of several of the Clan Macleod.

The first time I’d visited this place was with my father seven years ago. Then I remember being impressed by all the same things as now. Except one place always stuck in my mind….the toilet.

I know, not the sort of place that you usually remember and if you did it would be for all the wrong reasons. The smell, lack of toilet paper, graffiti etc. But this place, the Rodel toilet, was different. In 1996 there was a guestbook, now in toilet terms, that’s a sign of class. There were pictures on the wall and flowers inside, the place was scented with pot pourri, my goodness I could have stayed all day.

In 2003 the place was still there in a semi-permanent portakabin outside the church. But my memories were all that remained of how the place once was. The pictures, the flowers and the guestbook had all gone. Although thankfully there was no graffiti, the place lacked the magic that I had once known all those years ago. Dejected but still happy to be on this lovely island, we set off along the barren and rocky east coast road towards Lewis.

Now we all know that Lewis is one of the places to go if your interesting in antiquity and stone circles etc. Lewis plays host to Callanish a wonderful place which evokes mystery and wonder. But Lewis also offers so much more, stone circles, brochs, duns, menhirs, Vikings, blackhouses, scenery and water lots and lots of water.

We wandered first to the impossible to pronounce Cnoc Fillibhear Bheag. The ground was marshy and the rain had started to pour down. Not that we were too bothered; to wander round all the Callanish circles had been another main point to the trip.

A path links Cnoc to another circle a couple of hundred metres away known as Cnoc Ceann a’Gharraidh. A place with an equally long and difficult name and which boasts quite a cool triangular stone which we took the opportunity to shelter behind whilst the wind threatened to blow us into the bog. Callanish could be seen in the distance its stones like needles sticking up from the ground.

I had been there once before again in 1996, but my friend had not. I had been impressed with its size and complexity then and now my feelings remained. What went on here really? Why was it built? All these questions penetrate your head as you weave your way through the stones.

It was 8pm by the time we got to Callanish, a good time it seems as all the crowds had long since left. A couple who were also wandering around told us that they had been there earlier that afternoon and the place was just heaving with a combination of tourists and druids. Druids! Of course! The summer solstice was only two days away. Not that we’d be here for that unfortunately, we had a tight schedule to work to. Maybe next year…

Our destination for the evening was to be the renovated crofters village of Garenin. Itself a place that should most certinaly be visited if on Lewis. It boasts a popular youth hostel which attracts a lot of young people eager to sample the simple delights of staying in a original blackhouse. There is always a friendly atmosphere and banter to be had. People from all over the world converge on this one place. We were the only English people there, the rest where travelling from Canada, Austria, Holland, USA and there was a Glaswegian too.

Alas despite jovial atmosphere and the warmth of the coal fire, we were still to be denied. There was no room at the inn, all the beds had been taken. The floor of the kitchen was to be our bed that night. A night which soon threatened to turn into morning and it would have done had we not kicked our fellow hostellers out of our makeshift ‘bedroom’ at 2 in the morning. A debate fuelled by alcohol had been raging about all things from the latest movie releases to the suitability of the Scottish Parliament. After our day, we just wanted to get to sleep.

Fitfully we did so only to be woken up by an apologetic couple trying to get to there milk in the fridge. The days plan was to wander up the historically packed Western coast of Lewis and see as much as it was humanely possible to see, Garenin was the ideal place from which to start.

Dun Carloway is the most impressive broch in the Western isles and next to Mousa Broch in Shetland probably the most impressive in Britain. It was here that we stopped off first.

I love brochs there great, you can fight your way through wind and rain to get to them and when you finally get inside you can fell sheltered and safe. Most brochs originate from the Iron Age and were fortified farmsteads. Brochs could house people and animals inside and keep stores for weeks maybe even months. Dun Carloway dates from the 1st century BC and is situated on top of a hillock overlooking its manor. A wonderful place.

There are all sorts on the Western coast of Lewis. Most are ‘blink and you’ll miss it places’ such as the unsignposted Loch an Duna Broch, the remains of which lie on a small island linked to the mainland of the loch by a ever more waterlogged causeway. Theres another one on a loch just a few miles up the road. The loch at shader, itself overlooked by the remains of a chambered cairn known as Steinicleit.

Opposite Steinicleit (which could date from 3000BC) past the loch is the huge monolith of Clach an Truseil. An absolutely huge stone which now, I was reasonably surprised to note had a picnic bench not too far away from it.

In addition to the old stuff, the coastal road also boasts a renovated Norse mill, an original working Blackhouse and museam at Arnol a huge whalebone arch by someones house in Bragar and another interesting little museam at Habost. Not many pubs or places to eat though we did notice that!

We finally met the druids in a little church on the very north of the island. At a place called Teampall Mholuaidh or to give it’s easier to remember name, St. Moulags. St. Moulags is just north of Port Nis, it has an impressive Celtic cross outside and it can only be reached after following a nice straight path for about 200 yards.

The church is thought to have dated from the 14th century although it is thought that the Norse also had a settlement or maybe even a castle there before that. One suspects that this site has actually been used for various purposes well before the norse arrived. Tales we had had learnt of sacrifices of ale to the sea god Shony made me think of the film ‘The Wicker Man’ and wonder how important this place actually was to people in antiquity.

Surprise surprise it was raining again although as we wandered down the path it began to get heavy. Our walk turned into a jog and the jog into a full pelt run for cover. How we hoped that the door to the church was open and how grateful we were when we found out it was.

The two of us burst in relieved and then slightly embarrassed as we realised that the building was actually full of people. We sat down quietly at the back and composed ourselves for a few minutes. All the folk in the church had there eyes closed, deep in thought. It soon became apparent that a ceremony was going on, one that I had certinaly never seen from my days as an alter boy at the local church.

It a nutshell, the ceremony consisted of everyone slowly but surely moving from one position to another so that eventually four people were seated around the alter and the rest were standing in an line down the aisle. Three of these were just behind the font at the back of the church. Most peculiar to one that has never seen that sort of thing before. The ceremony ended with everyone hugging and bonding, they all had big smiles on there faces and all seemed to be at total peace. I can think of many religions which could take a leaf out of the druids book.

I think the best part was actually seeing a druid, I’d never seen one before but if I were to hazard a guess I’d say that they’d come complete with white robe and stick. But not a robe in sight, instead the people were dressed just like my companion and I. Wearing macs, waterproofs and absolutely sodden wet.

After leaving we wandered up to the lighthouse at the Point of Ness and then onto a lovely little beach just before it. We’d seen a lot and we were tired after the previous nights debacle so we chose to head back south and find the hostel we were staying in that night.

Kershader turned out to be totally different from Garenin. We were the only two there apart from another lady who was usually out walking. Forty much needed winks were gained and then as if there was no time to call our own we were on the road again. This time to Stornaway for our evening meal at a renowned seafood restaurant called the Park Hotel. We had the Hebredian medly which was divine and which made sure that we really would sleep soundly that night after all.

Down the road from the hostel at Kershader we had heard about the remains of another broch at Cromor. The broch again was in the middle of the loch and again pretty unaccessible. It looked good though, you couldn’t see it from the road, instead we had to clamber over a hillock to sneak a peek. I again marvelled at the sheer wealth of history on these amazing islands.

That day we left Lewis bound for Ullapool. The night was to be spent just north of Inverness in a place called Carbisdale Castle. The way there was breathtaking as we took the road north from the little fishing village and then down towards Carbisdale.

The following day was to be mainly spent travelling, from the north of Scotland to the south. Our first stop was Culloden, scene of the ill-advised Jacobite last stand in 1746. It was here that Bonnie Prince Charlies chances of capturing the throne were thwarted as his army were spectacularly outclassed by the brutal and bloodthirsty Duke of Cumberland. How sad it is to go there now and try to relive history. If only the Prince had heeded better advice instead of listening to people that told him what he wanted to hear. If only an attempted midnight raid on the enemies camp hadn’t had to have been cancelled just a few hours before, if only…

Who knows how history would have turned out had the Jacobites won, one thing it did do was propel the flight of the Bonnie Prince “over the sea to skye” into the annals of history and folklore. I’m sure the romance of the occasion was seen rather differently then as it is now.

Very near, in fact practically next door to the battlefield, is the ancient site of Clava Cairns. Burial chambers thought to date from the 3rd or 4th millennia BC. There are three of them and there all very impressive, cups marks can be found on various rocks and the place is in surprisingly good condition. Again we were blessed with the timing of our visit. We were the only people there, if we’d have had time we would have loved to have stayed a little longer.

But time was against us, the English border was calling as we were staying in a place just short of it that very night. We stopped at Aviemore on the way to feed and water ourselves and were pleasantly surprised to see another stone circle signposted from the road. We followed the signs and found it, in the middle of a housing estate. Not really the ideal setting for such an ancient place but I bet the houses next door are worth a bob or two as a result. It reminded me of King Orrys Grave on the Isle of Man. Again the ultimate sacrilege had been allowed by ignorant planners, allowing development next to the monument.

Kirk Yetholm, our destination, was a lovely little borders village. I’d not really been in that area before and I have to say it was enchanting. The following day we awoke to sunshine and a drive back to Yorkshire.

Our final stop was spent in Northumbria at a place called ‘Brigantium’. There is such a wealth of archaeology in the county that is quite difficult to get to, but the people in charge of Brigantium have produced mock ups of some of the famous sites to show people what the county has to offer. One of the sites is though (they boast) quite real. That of a hunters rock shelter that dates well into the Mesolithic. Flints had been found there during excavations and various slabs look as if they have been placed.

It was the ideal way to conclude a trip which had given us so much. From Rum to Rodel, from Callanish to Clava the route was filled with magic and mystery. My only regret…that we never got to see that darn stone on Rum.

Eigg Lesser Stone — Images

24.06.03ce
<b>Eigg Lesser Stone</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Eigg Lesser Stone</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Eigg standing stone — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
Eigg is the second largest of the small isles after Rum. The other small isles are Canna and Muck and none can be easily accessed by car ferry. On Eigg an island made famous by the fact the locals were able to buy back the land from there stay away landlord, this is a problem.

The island is the most populous of all the islands with a princely population of 78. There is a four mile road stretching from the port at Galmisdale to the small village of Cleadale on the north of the island. A car ferry would encourage more visitors to the island and encourage more people to come and live there. It would also enable someone to get all the disused rotten junk away from the island. Eigg is a stunningly beautiful place but it really is threatening to become disfigured by the sheer amount of fly tipping which seems to be going on.

The standing stone of Eigg is not to be confused with the monolith at the harbour commemorating the islands takeover by residents. This menhir stands proud looking over the new ferry terminal construction but the stone marked on the OS maps was about two miles further inland and pretty much in the centre of the island.

Walking there was pleasant and not strenuous, this stone was certainly easier to find than the one supposedly on the island of Rum, it was just off the side of the road, its always nice when they are so conveniently sited don’t you think?

After posing for the obligatory photographs we set off back along the road in the hope that it wouldn’t be too long before we reached the farm in which we were staying. After about half a mile we came upon another stone which didn’t look like it should have been there at all. This was smaller than the previous stone and was tilted at an angle. I again took some photos and named it the Eigg lesser stone ;-)

Glencoe Standing Stone — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
Eventually we ended up in Glencoe and were blessed in the fact that the set for the latest Harry Potter has been built up on the hillside. You can see Hagrids House, another construction that looks like it could be a passageway of somekind and, surprise surprise, a makeshift set of standing stones.

After trying to sneak onto said set for a better look our plan was scuppered by one of the many security guards manning the site. Well, at least the view wasn’t too bad from the road. The cast and crew by the way had taken the weekend off from filming, lucky them.

Ah well! Onto the famous Signal Rock! The Signal rock has a rather macabre history as it was from here that the signal was sent in 1692 to start the massacre of Glencoe when members of the Clan Campbell slaughtered their hosts the MacDonalds whilst they slept in their beds.

The rock is to be found by following a path away from Glencoe town into a wooded glade. About a mile from the Harry Potter set is the rock and atop the rock midgies reign supreme. It must be said any trip to this part of Scotland must come complete with lots of insect repellent.

As we rushed back along the path to the car, my eye caught a funny shaped rock just off the side of the path partly obscured by undergrowth and merging in quite well with the other rocks in the area. It looked like a standing stone although there is nothing to indicate this on the OS map. A puzzle indeed but it didn’t look like it should have been there so I took a couple of pics and have submitted accordingly, take a look and see what you think.

Eyre — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
On the way to the ferry we passed the standing stones at Eyre. Looking out over the loch they shared a field with a rather large group of inquizitive cows who seemed to take pleasure in following us around. We walked briskly up to the stones, lingered for a minute until the cows had lost interest and then walked briskly back.

The Macleod Stone — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
Harris is a peculiar place, full of extremes. On the west coast are beaches which surely match the finest on earth, yet on the east and in the north, the landscape is barren and rocky. Stanley Kubrick in filming his masterpiece 2001 A Space Odyssey used the rocky terrain of Harris as a double for Mars. Testament indeed to the out worldly nature of the place.

Across one of the beaches on the west side there is a signpost directing the traveller to a place known as 'The Macleod Stone'. An impressive monolith perched on a hilltop looking out over to Taransay, the island made famous by the BBC's Survivor programme.

To get there is no chore although the beach does seem to stretch forever and apart from sinking in the soft sand and leaping over the odd channel it's a pleasant trip. However, this is Harris, a place renowned for its unpredictable weather. As we reached the stone, the wind started to howl and the rain buffeted down. We took our pics and struggled back to the roadside fighting the elements.

Cnoc Fillibhear Bheag — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
We wandered first to the impossible to pronounce Cnoc Fillibhear Bheag. The ground was marshy and the rain had started to pour down. Not that we were too bothered; to wander round all the Callanish circles had been another main point to the trip.

A path links Cnoc to another circle a couple of hundred metres away known as Cnoc Ceann a’Gharraidh. A place with an equally long and difficult name and which boasts quite a cool triangular stone which we took the opportunity to shelter behind whilst the wind threatened to blow us into the bog. Callanish could be seen in the distance its stones like needles sticking up from the ground

Cnoc Ceann a'Gharraidh — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
We wandered first to (the impossible to pronounce Cnoc Fillibhear Bheag). The ground was marshy and the rain had started to pour down. Not that we were too bothered; to wander round all the Callanish circles had been another main point to the trip.

A path links Cnoc to another circle a couple of hundred metres away known as Cnoc Ceann a'Gharraidh. A place with an equally long and difficult name and which boasts quite a cool triangular stone which we took the opportunity to shelter behind whilst the wind threatened to blow us into the bog. Callanish could be seen in the distance its stones like needles sticking up from the ground

Callanish — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
Now we all know that Lewis is one of the places to go if your interesting in antiquity and stone circles etc. Lewis plays host to Callanish a wonderful place which evokes mystery and wonder. But Lewis also offers so much more, stone circles, brochs, duns, menhirs, Vikings, blackhouses, scenery and water lots and lots of water.

We wandered first to the impossible to pronounce Cnoc Fillibhear Bheag. The ground was marshy and the rain had started to pour down. Not that we were too bothered; to wander round all the Callanish circles had been another main point to the trip.

A path links Cnoc to another circle a couple of hundred metres away known as Cnoc Ceann a’Gharraidh. A place with an equally long and difficult name and which boasts quite a cool triangular stone which we took the opportunity to shelter behind whilst the wind threatened to blow us into the bog. Callanish could be seen in the distance its stones like needles sticking up from the ground.

I had been there once before again in 1996, but my friend had not. I had been impressed with its size and complexity then and now my feelings remained. What went on here really? Why was it built? All these questions penetrate your head as you weave your way through the stones.

It was 8pm by the time we got to Callanish, a good time it seems as all the crowds had long since left. A couple who were also wandering around told us that they had been there earlier that afternoon and the place was just heaving with a combination of tourists and druids. Druids! Of course! The summer solstice was only two days away. Not that we’d be here for that unfortunately, we had a tight schedule to work to. Maybe next year…

Dun Carloway — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
Dun Carloway is the most impressive broch in the Western isles and next to Mousa Broch in Shetland probably the most impressive in Britain. It was here that we stopped off first.

I love brochs they're great, you can fight your way through wind and rain to get to them and when you finally get inside you can fell sheltered and safe. Most brochs originate from the Iron Age and were fortified farmsteads. Brochs could house people and animals inside and keep stores for weeks maybe even months. Dun Carloway dates from the 1st century BC and is situated on top of a hillock overlooking its manor. A wonderful place

Loch an Duna — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
There are all sorts on the Western coast of Lewis. Most are ‘blink and you’ll miss it places’ such as the unsignposted Loch an Duna Broch, the remains of which lie on a small island linked to the mainland of the loch by a ever more waterlogged causeway. Theres another one on a loch just a few miles up the road. The loch at shader, itself overlooked by the remains of a chambered cairn known as Steinicleit.

Steinacleit — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
There are all sorts on the Western coast of Lewis. Most are ‘blink and you’ll miss it places’ such as the unsignposted Loch an Duna Broch, the remains of which lie on a small island linked to the mainland of the loch by a ever more waterlogged causeway. Theres another one on a loch just a few miles up the road. The loch at shader, itself overlooked by the remains of a chambered cairn known as Steinicleit.

Opposite Steinicleit (which could date from 3000BC) past the loch is the huge monolith of Clach an Truseil. An absolutely huge stone which now, I was reasonably surprised to note had a picnic bench not too far away from it.

Dun Cromor — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
Down the road from the hostel at Kershader we had heard about the remains of another broch at Cromor. The broch again was in the middle of the loch and again pretty unaccessible. It looked good though, you couldn’t see it from the road, instead we had to clamber over a hillock to sneak a peek. I again marvelled at the sheer wealth of history on these amazing islands.

Clava Cairns — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
Very near, in fact practically next door to the battlefield (Culloden), is the ancient site of Clava Cairns. Burial chambers thought to date from the 3rd or 4th millennia BC. There are three of them and there all very impressive, cups marks can be found on various rocks and the place is in surprisingly good condition. Again we were blessed with the timing of our visit. We were the only people there, if we’d have had time we would have loved to have stayed a little longer.

Aviemore — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
We stopped at Aviemore on the way to feed and water ourselves and were pleasantly surprised to see another stone circle signposted from the road. We followed the signs and found it, in the middle of a housing estate. Not really the ideal setting for such an ancient place but I bet the houses next door are worth a bob or two as a result. It reminded me of King Orrys Grave on the Isle of Man. Again the ultimate sacrilege had been allowed by ignorant planners, allowing development next to the monument.

Brigantium — Fieldnotes

01.07.03ce
Our final stop was spent in Northumbria at a place called ‘Brigantium’. There is such a wealth of archaeology in the county that is quite difficult to get to, but the people in charge of Brigantium have produced mock ups of some of the famous sites to show people what the county has to offer. One of the sites is though (they boast) quite real. That of a hunters rock shelter that dates well into the Mesolithic. Flints had been found there during excavations and various slabs look as if they have been placed.

Clach Stein — Images

24.06.03ce
<b>Clach Stein</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Clava Cairns — Images

24.06.03ce
<b>Clava Cairns</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Three Kings — Images

23.06.03ce
<b>Three Kings</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Brigantium — Images

23.06.03ce
<b>Brigantium</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Glencoe Standing Stone — Images

23.06.03ce
<b>Glencoe Standing Stone</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Glencoe Standing Stone</b>Posted by notjamesbond

The Macleod Stone — Images

23.06.03ce
<b>The Macleod Stone</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>The Macleod Stone</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Dun Cromor — Images

23.06.03ce
<b>Dun Cromor</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Loch an Duna — Images

23.06.03ce
<b>Loch an Duna</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Loch an Duna</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Steinacleit — Images

23.06.03ce
<b>Steinacleit</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Steinacleit</b>Posted by notjamesbond<b>Steinacleit</b>Posted by notjamesbond

Eyre — Images

22.06.03ce
<b>Eyre</b>Posted by notjamesbond
I enjoy touring and visiting all different parts of the country. Scotland holds special appeal especially the areas of Shetland, Orkney and the Western Isles.

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