Our first stop was east of Penrith at Winderwath, to check out the 2 stones on the road to Winderwath Gardens. The first stone is unmissable, lying on the roadside and what a fine piece of stone it is. Sturdy and magnificent, it sits proudly on the side of the road, emerging from the hedge as you approach. However, had Fitz not mentioned the 2nd stone lying in the field behind we would never have realised it was there, so thick was the hedgerow! We tried and tried to find a place to peek through and see it clearly but in the end I had to crawl through some nettles and brambles, poke my camera through the fence, point it in the general direction and just hope something came out! Luckily it did, but we couldn't see enough of this 2nd stone to tell how similar (or otherwise) it may have been to the one still standing. However, the weather had cleared, the sun was shining and we were starting to get stone-fever, so we continued on to the next site.

Heading back towards Penrith, we soon found ourselves pulling into a weird little industrial site just off the A66. We followed Fitz's instructions, and right enough, there was our 2nd upright stone of the day! What a strange situation and how lucky that the stone survived the industrial units being built all around it. Similar in size and shape to the one at Winderwath and no longer sitting amongst some bushes, this has the air of abandonment about it – only nettles and thistles were in the way today. As we were poking around, the local farmer came over and stared chatting; he said there had been a 2nd stone close by that had been cleared some time ago and mentioned that the original roadway had run from Eamont Bridge (where Mayburgh & Arthur's henges are) following the watercourse and came out here. This started lots of ideas whizzing round our heads, wondering if this roadway had followed an ancient route, marked by these lovely big monoliths??? Vicky and I love theorising about such things and often convince ourselves of stuff that we have no evidence of – and here we were again – we got out the map and starting trying to find an obvious route, linking various sites in the area. Oh, what fun we can have with a little knowledge and such fertile imaginations!

This really whetted our appetite for more, so we set off to the next site – the standing stone at Sewborwans. There is a handy wee layby right by the fence into the field, so we pulled in and hopped over the gate. As we approached this lovely, big stone - again, sturdy & squat just like the other 2 we had seen today, and sitting on a raised piece of land – we noticed 2 smaller stones in the hedgerow. These weren't the scattered, fallen stones Fitz had mentioned but were still upright. Our minds went into overload at this point, with Vicky convinced that they were just missing the recumbent stone lying between them and me wondering if they had been some kind of entrance stones? One of the things I love most about prehistory is that, a lot of the time, we just don't know the answers so you are able to make things up, argue with yourself, talk yourself out of said theory and then change your mind again and decide you were right all along! This stone reminded me of the Googleby Stone at Shap but that may have been the setting and the fact that it was standing in bright sunlight, with a dazzling blue sky – the exact same conditions when I first saw the Googleby Stone? The strewn large stones in the bank behind are interesting and Vicky decided that this had once been a magnificent circle of stone, standing on the plateau, linked to the henges at Eamont by large processional stones; it certainly has some credibility, with the references to stone avenues in the area. It is also of note that there are 3 cairns within spitting distance of this site at Mossthorns and this site would be visible from there. We had a quick peek at these from the roadside but didn't attempt to get to them, as our heads were already overflowing with stones and the fields were rather inaccessible. Another time.

Our last site of the day was to be Holme Head; one I knew could be difficult to access due to the railway line being in the way! What I can't even begin to explain is this; how have Vicky and I, who have spent the last 25 years whizzing up and down this line to each other's houses, managed to miss these huge, hunk of stone, sitting right by the side of the line? We must have both passed it hundreds of times!! Anyhoo, we tried to get a decent picture of it from the "wrong side of the tracks" and then we attempted to get to it through the filed on the other side – this would be quite easy if a) there wasn't barbed wire on the gate and b) it hadn't been full of cows who seemed very curious. This is not usually an issue for me but I had a train to catch and didn't really have the time to dodge playful bullocks and barbed wire. This is now firmly on my list for "next time".

The first prehistoric site of the day, the earthwork is prominent enough to find it even in the gloom (well, principally because the forestry path comes out right next to it). The views from here, when there are some, would be obscured to the north by the trees. It may be possible to see the Black Mixen summit from here. Who knows? A round barrow is shown on the map a little way to the northeast, but today isn't the day to investigate.

Instead, I squelch southeast, heading towards Black Mixen (OE: Black Dunghill), the second summit of the day. At least this section follows a clearly defined track. On a normal day, the enormous radio mast that tops the summit of the mountain would provide a foolproof landmark, but I can't even see that today. Like the summit of Great Rhos, this a flat, boggy area, characterised by spongy peat and tussocky heather. The radio mast finally emerges, and close by I can just make out the trig pillar. This one stands on a confirmed round barrow, although in truth it looks almost identical to the mound that the Great Rhos trig rests on. The top of the barrow is flattened, presumably by the usual digging and erosion rather than just from the incorporation of the trig pillar. Not a spot to linger on a day like this, with wet feet and a long way to go still. I head off and the barrow vanishes behind, real or imagined I cannot truthfully say.

To my south, barrows appear on the top the Whimble and the western summit of Bache Hill. By now I'm too tired to leave my main route and visit them, so they'll have to wait for another day. But the summit of Bache Hill itself now looms ahead, just a matter of climbing the grassy field and I'm there. The barrow here is magnificent. Much larger than the Black Mixen barrow, although similarly topped with a trig pillar, this is as fine a specimen of a round barrow as you could hope to find, especially on top of a Welsh mountain.

I collapse at the barrow, wring my socks again, have some lunch. As I sit, the surrounding gloom begins to lift properly, revealing an astonishing view to the south. First of all, patchwork fields emerge across the farmland below, finally acknowledging the elevation attained up here. Then, much further south, a black ridge of hills becomes visible: the Black Mountains escarpment. As the sharp profile of Mynydd Troed clears, I have an warming sense of place, with another piece slotted home into my Welsh jigsaw. I must come here again, when the views are clearer and my feet are drier. But in some ways the all-covering mists, giving way to a tease and a slow reveal, has heightened the satisfaction of making it up here.

There is a further barrow to the east of the main one, less impressive in itself but perfectly situated on the edge of the summit ridge overlooking the farmland below.

I have been to Kinnerton once before and visited the round stone in its field, but didn't know about the second stone tucked into the verge to the north of the field gate. I only find this now thanks to Postie's pictures – it's very overgrown and nettles sting me in my efforts to clear it sufficiently to photograph.

As has been commented by others, the stone in the field mirrors the conical top of The Whimble, visible to the west from here.

Heading south along quiet lanes, the Crossfield Lane round barrow can be seen over a field gate. Although once a large barrow, over 30m across, it's now been ploughed down to little more than a rise in the field.

Arriving at Four Stones provides an emotional punch in the guts. The last visit here was with my Dad, on one of our last days out together in 1999. Coming back here is nearly overwhelming and I find myself in tears, thinking of all the things we never said and all the things we never had time to do. I will experience something similar at Mitchell's Fold the following spring, showing that the healing we think time brings isn't either as complete or as secure as it seems. These sites bring such thoughts into sharp relief.

But although Four Stones has the power to open me up, it also has the power to bring a stupid grin. The four boulders, so closely spaced as to enclose the visitor in a tight embrace, exert a strong pull on the senses. The proximity of a nearby house and occasional passing car, the recently cut hay in the field, all fade out of mind as I sit here. The views of the now-revealed Radnor mountains, that I was so recently stumbling across in the mist, add to the overall feeling that this circle is a small part of a grand landscape. And we sit in it, briefly, then we're gone and it endures, for the next visitors. Long may that continue.

I'm thinking about it all and I'm sorry and I'm not sorry - our time was made up of confused emotions and little whirlwinds and all those things we couldn't really talk about but, most of all, it was sealed in sacred moments like these and then it was gone.