Latest Fieldnotes

A number of my paternal grandmother’s ancestors were baptised and then buried at this church, so I feel I’m sort of entitled to a guess on all this. It has the fingerprints of wealthy church benefactor all over it. Maybe they were originally in the wooded site and got moved.........some of those holes may be a clue!

The mistaken impression I got from most of the previous fieldnotes is that (a) it’s a bit of a slog getting to the stones and (b) they’re not that easy to find. As someone famous for misreading even the simplest of maps/directions and blithely walking past circles standing in plain sight I thus approached my visit to this one with some trepidation. Well, all I can say after my visit is that this was one of the easiest I’ve made so I thought I’d set out my directions in the hope they’ll inspire others to follow because the Twelve Apostles are well worth spending half an hour with, almost for the views alone; were those really the dishes of the Fylingdales early-warning (or whatever they’re used for now) station gleaming whitely in the far distance off the the north-east?
So; if you’re coming by car, drive into Ilkley town centre then follow the sign for ‘Ilkley Moor’ which leads to a turning signposted ‘Cow and Calf Rocks.’ Follow this all the way to the cafe sited under said rocks where you can park. Unless you want to mingle with all the sightseers on the rocks, take the rougher left-hand path which goes behind them and stay on this until you reach the Backstone Beck. On crossing, again take the rougher left-hand path; although this climbs more steeply it cuts a large corner off the route you would otherwise follow in taking the lower, smoother path until it intersects with the Dales High Way. When you reach the High Way by the higher path you simply turn left on to it and keep going until you reach the stones; after crossing another small beck the path is laid out in large flagstones so your feet won’t even get wet. I reckon it’s a mile/mile and a half at most.
It’s a very evocative spot, unusual in that you can see urban areas to north, south and east yet you’re still in the sort of seclusion that only a moorland site can offer. Don’t expect to have the stones all to yourself especially at weekends, judging by the number of walkers about on the Sunday afternoon of my visit though I still got twenty minutes; it’s probably less busy during the week.
They’re a quirky little group, sitting in their clearing surrounded by gorse and heather. I imagine it could get quite dark up there on a day when the clouds are low and the rain horizontal but on a pleasantly bright mid-September afternoon the moor was a fine place to be and I left the stones uplifted and ready for the two-hundred-mile drive back to London.

Revisited: September 9, 2015

Returning to Dun Boreraig on a fine sunny day, the broch immediately appeared much more interesting than last time, when the sky was leaden and views practically non-existent.

Sitting atop a conspicuous mound, the broch immediately impressed me with external walling that stood five courses high in places, the individual blocks still nestling tidily against oneanother. Some of the stones in the foundation course were impressively large.

Though much of the original masonry has collapsed into the centre of the structure, significant stretches of fine internal walling still stand, and the original entrance passage is well preserved.

Visited: September 9, 2015

I am mystified reading Carl’s fieldnotes: I cannot imagine an easier site to visit. Perhaps he mistook where he was. There are neither trees nor cliffs to trouble the visitor.

From the coastal car park (at NG646057) about 800 metres past Ostaig House, simply descend to the beach and follow the coastline (a sandy beach in the main) northwards for about 400 metres. Dun Ela is obvious as a small, rugged headland from the moment you step out of your vehicle. If the stream proves an obstacle, walk up the road past the bridge before descending to the beach.

The 8 metre tall dun, which stands right on the shore about 400 metres SSW of Ostaig House, is a flat-topped rock, broadest nearest the sea where the actual dun was located, and which tapers into a narrow ridge towards the shore. On my visit it was a very low tide, and the dun was surrounded by seaweed covered shingle. Clearly, at high tide, it is surrounded by the sea.

As to the site of the dun, little can be said because it is thickly clothed in vegetation, including a number of semi-mature trees: no significant detail can be discerned. But it would clearly have been an ideal defensive location, surrounded by cliffs on all sides and with only the narrow neck of the ridge to defend.

Where is it? – Mystery solved!

As documented below by Kammer, this putative stone circle in the Snizort Parish has consistently defied the efforts of those searching for it. The reason for this is a long standing error on the Canmore website, and elsewhere, its Grid Reference having been erroneously quoted as NG386596.

Earlier this year, the Canmore website was upgraded and the 6-digit Grid Reference replaced by a more accurate 8-digit one (NG38755962). Additionally the site is now renamed, more accurately, as the Cuidrach Stone Setting. The map below shows the incorrect 100-metre grid square (large shaded rectangle) and the correct 10-metre grid square (small green square). It is clear that the true location is well outside the originally assigned OS reference.

The original notification of this megalith in Discovery and Excavation in Scotland (1989, page 44) is replete with errors.

• The OS reference was incorrect
• There are no telegraph poles here: only wooden power line posts
• The megalith stands a mere 130 metres SW of a lay-by (pink marker), 150 metres down the Cuidrach road (nothing like the third of a mile originally reported)

In fact, the Stone Setting is actually clearly visible from this lay-by, adjacent to the 2nd powerline post to the SW.

Read more about this on the Canmore website.

Visited: September 6, 2015

The Cuidrach Stone Setting, a possible stone circle, has been extensively quoted at an erroneous location, and incorrectly termed ”Snizert [sic] Stone Circle”.

This monument has at last found not only a more appropriate name, but also location, in a 10-metre square at NG38755962, somewhat east of the erroneous position quoted by its discoverers.

Once you know where to look, Cuidrach Stone Setting is dead easy to locate: it can actually be seen from the roadside, just 130 metres southwest of a lay-by on the Cuidrach Road.

From the A87 from Portree to Uig, follow the Cuidrach road from NG390597 for about 150 metres where you find a large lay-by/passing place, just a few metres before the point where a power line crosses the road. The wooden poles of this power line were mistaken for telegraph poles in the original Discovery and Excavation in Scotland report.

From here, look for the second wooden post in a roughly southwesterly direction. The stone setting can be clearly seen just a short distance to its left. It’s just a few minutes walk across rather boggy terrain to reach it, a distance of only 130 metres (stout shoes or boots required).

There are four upright stones and one toppled one, laid out on an obvious semi-circle. A sixth stone lies prostrate and almost completely hidden in the boggy terrain enclosed by the setting.

It may well be that these are the remains of a stone circle, since the original report stated that probing had identified buried stones in the gaps.

Visited Cadbury Castle a couple of days ago while driving back from the Somerset/Dorset area. The sun was sinking as we climbed up the steep stony track from the village of South Cadbury. When we reached the top everything was bathed in the glow of the setting sun. Fabulous views of the surrounding landscape, quite easy to imagine this may have been the site of a the mythical city of Camelot. Back down in the small car park, I tried to read the information board – the light was failing by now so I photographed it and have reproduced the text below. A fascinating potted history of England from the time of the Neolithic up to the 15th Century.
(Information based on the work of Leslie Alcock and the excavations at Cadbury Castle 1966-70).

From the Neolithic Age (3,000BC) to early 11th Century, the fortress of Cadbury Castle was in turn military stronghold, centre of trade and culture, and probably focus of a religious cult; by the early 16th Century folklore identified it with Camelot of Arthurian legend.

Iron Age Town – A modest Bronze Age settlement on the summit grew into a large and spectacular hill fort town, a centre of craft, trade and religious worship. The place was probably a ‘capital’ of the Durotriges whose territory included central and southern Somerset and Dorset. Dwellings within ramparts were wood, wattle and thatch. At first left alone by the Roman government, the town was forcibly cleared around 70AD by the Romans, an action which left some of the inhabitants dead and which removed others to settlements in the surrounding countryside.

The Dark Ages and Camelot – People returned to the site towards the end of the Roman period and by 500AD there was a massive refortification on the hill top. Defences of timber and dry stone walling replaced the earlier banks and posts of the new south-west gate were embedded in solid rock. Within the defences stood a large, aisled timber hall. The scale of the work and precious pottery found from the eastern Mediterranean imply a wealthy, sophisticated and highly organised military society.
The only surviving written record of the 5th Century shows Britain divided into tribal ‘kingdoms’ and later Celtic tradition tells of a series of battles against invading Saxons under the command of a figure called Arthur. Cadbury, strategically placed to defend south-west Britain, could well have been the base from which Arthur led his troops to the final victory of Mons Badonis, whether that was fought in Dorset, near Bath, or in north Wiltshire. Cadbury was first linked to Arthur by Leland in 1542:
“At the very south ende of the Chirch of South-Cadbryri standeth Camallate, sumtyme a famose toun or castelle … The people can telle nothing ther but they have hard say that Arthure much resortid to Camalat” (sic)

Saxons and Vikings – The threat of Viking invasion during the reign of Ethelred II (the “Unready”) brought the hill top into use again as an emergency administrative and commercial centre in place of Ilchester. Coind were minted at Cadanbyric between 1009 and 1019 in the safety of new defences, and a church may have been begun but the ramparts were again destroyed. Soon after the mint returned to Ilchester.”

This stone has caused chaos as I seem to have chased it all over the place. Even at the end it caused a headache as it had moved from the shed to the garden entrance, being called to the Percylieu Stone with its impressive Pictish markings. Hopefully this is its last move!

Quite a few people to thank for this including the somewhat bemused staff at Leith Hall, Rhynie Man and the Northern Picts. With that it was up to Rhynie via no hospitals.

7/9/2015.

The fact that this cairn still survives is something of a miracle. Its nearby friends another cairn and a stone circle where destroyed many years ago.

What now remains is an impressive turf covered mound some 15 meters wide and 2 meters tall (approx.). What also remains is the wonderful all round views, to the south the magnificent Lomonds, to the north numerous hillforts and cairns.

From Strathmiglo head west on the minor road called Skene Street via a street interestingly called California. After the Corston farm entrance look north and the cairn is some 50 meters from the road.

My eyes kept looking south and towards the October holidays!!

Visited 22/8/2015.

This will probably end up on the ‘disputed antiquity’ list as it doesn’t appear on any maps or on MAGIC, but it is a very big sarsen standing stone, almost 6 foot high, in a quite interesting position in relation to the Marlborough Downs, Avebury and Winterbourne Bassett. Very easy to locate as it’s just off the A3461 (between Swindon and Avebury) if you turn off at Broad Hinton towards the Hackpen Hill White Horse, it’s less than half a mile on your left. You can pull up for a quick shufty, but you wouldn’t want to block the gateways to the fields there.

Ah, Sleat .... at last. Yeah, this is the first occasion I’ve ventured forth upon Skye’s southern-most, less mountainous peninsula. A sorry state of affairs that reflects more upon my ‘upland’ prejudices than any lack of intrinsic beauty to be enjoyed here. A fact that can be categorically verified by anyone taking the time to visit the small coastal hamlet of Isleornsay, overlooking an idyllic harbour sheltering small boats from the more extreme vagaries of The Sound of Sleat.

Hmm... it might therefore seem a little obtuse, perhaps, to abandon this wondrous coastline shortly afterward, following Gleann Meadal across Sleat’s rocky spine to the peninsula’s opposite flank. But rest assured it’s not, the River Ord’s sinuous course guiding the traveller unerringly to the eponymous township (An t-Ord in Gaelic) and a beach with quite wondrously stunning views across Loch Eishort to The Cuillin. The single track road climbs steeply away from such sedimentary grandeur before reaching a small parking area, this just before a cattle grid upon the southern flank of Sron Daraich. Light woodland screens the panorama so – boots on – I head north to pick up the line of a fence crossing (more-or-less) the summit of the hill, this veering to the left to make a rough, heathery descent toward the merging of the Allt an Leth-bheinn and Loch Eishort at Inbhir Amlabhaig. Whoah... quite an odd experience, this. Clearly I’m not used to descending to see cairns. Or most other prehistoric monuments, now I come to mention it. But there you are.

Now if I had a 1:25K OS map finding the monuments would, maybe, have been a doddle. Needless to say I’ve just an old 1:50K edition lovingly procured from Oxfam in Chelmsford in my possession. Consequently I head for what are obviously the cairns.... to find that ‘they’, just as obviously, are not. Anyway to cut a long story short – as Tony Hadley once crooned – prospective visitors should head directly for the near bank of the river, not far from loch side, where two very forlorn-looking cairns stand most unimpressively behind the foundations of later dry stone structures. Both are choked with the ubiquitous heather virtually to the point of not resembling cairns at all... or at least to any noticeable degree.

However it is what lies within their hollow, albeit obscured interiors that makes the soggy downhill stomp more than worthwhile... the clear remains of cists. TSC’s misc post has the technical detail; however I have to say that here – more than ever – it is the sensational landscape context that defines the sublime nature of the site. Proclaims it as if a loudspeaker fed through a Marshall amp turned all the way to eleven! Yeah, the silence is so overwhelming it is almost too loud to process. If that makes any sense? Archaeology and vibe in perfect harmony. Having said that the visuals are pretty good, too. Now I’ve often heard it said that perhaps the finest mountain view in Scotland is that of the Black Cuillin from Elgol? The place where Midge Ure and friends take a boat ride in Ultravox’s ‘Lament’ video. If so the vista of the same serrated peaks, Bla Bheinn to the fore, rising across Loch Eishort from these cairns takes that celebrated scene to the wire. No really. I reckon it does.

But wait, the best is yet to come. As I lay back and proceed to not do an awful lot (now there’s a contradiction in terms) – except ride out the periodic storm fronts and bask in the light of the interludes – I recall that, according to Canmore at least, there is a further cairn overlooking the far (western) bank of the Allt an Leth-bheinn, apparently placed upon the crag looming above another, more substantial dry stone ruin.... the shell of an old school house? Now elsewhere reaching said far bank might well be an issue. Here, however, as luck (or rather resourceful locals) would have it, the river is crossed by stepping stones a little upstream. Yeah, functional and aesthetically pleasing... everyone’s a winner. I therefore wander across dryshod to take a quick shufti and duly discover a very well preserved cist with capstone slipped to one side. OK, like its neighbours to the east the cairn is pretty nondescript as a stone pile... but so what with such marvellous internal attributes? What’s more a pretty persuasive case could be given for this cairn to actually have contained multiple cists in its time. What a haunting, ethereal location this is. Why, one of the cist’s substantial orthostats even possesses an enigmatic circular marking. Whether this is natural or artificial I’m not competent enough to determine. But it sure wouldn’t surprise me if it was the real thing.

The Black Cuillin, taking matters very literally indeed, glower across the water beneath a positively Wagnerian sky... as the progressively more vigorous movement of a couple of trees, their small stature clearly at odds with herculean survival tendencies, pre-empts the arrival of yet another storm front.

Sure enough the downpour catches me midway across the stepping stones. But I am dry before reaching the car.

2 Cairns & a Mesolithic scatter site are listed very close together in The Anglezarke survey report & also by Pastscape, so having worked out where the sites should be I headed off on the short walk from Moor Lane. The first of the cairns is quite easily found, but the second is more problematic, I think I found it but it’s buried deep in the Anglezarke tufty grass & a winter trip when the vegetation is at its lowest is needed to confirm it.

By my reckoning this is the most northerly of the twelve – or so I understand – chambered cairns to grace the Isle of Skye... although, to be fair, the margin between the Carn Liath and Cadha Riach upon the eastern coast is pretty minimal. Indeed, a statistic of perhaps far greater interest is that this is the last of the celebrated dozen to feature upon TMA. Another mini-milestone upon the Cope-inspired quest for megalithic enlightenment? Whatever, my assumption is there’s not a lot left? Well, there’s only one way to find out... assuming the traveller doesn’t possess a laptop or dodgy smart phone and didn’t do any Canmore-based homework before leaving Essex? Time to put on the boots, then. Do this exploring the old fashioned way....

The A855 climbs steeply away from the ferry terminal of Uig heading northward along the western coastline of Trotternish. Passing an (official) viewpoint – from where there is an intriguing (and duly noted) sight of Dun Skudiburgh perched above the water – the road then bypasses the small hamlet of Totscore to seaward before reaching the similarly sized Linicro. Here the map depicts a ‘surfaced’ road accessing a small group of dwellings at Monkstadt, that is due west, upon the crest of the coastal ridge. OK, I admit lethargy raises its arm, in the manner of a primary school child requesting leave to take a wee, but, for the sake of my car’s nether regions, I resist the easy option and set off on foot. In retrospect the road is ‘driveable’, although the options to park at the other end debatable. Sometimes you’ve just gotta walk, you know?

At Monkstadt the road veers to the approx north-west, becoming a concrete track for a short distance before giving up the ghost and leaving me to my own devices, striding across a grassy ridge with the sea to my left. In short order several rocky outcrops suggest – to me at least – what might have been interpreted as trashed chambered cairns in another context. Well, sort of. However I’m having none of it and press onward. Sure enough after about a further half mile a massive dry stone wall impedes progress. As I draw nearer a large block of stone can be seen lying against its near face upon the highest point of the ridge. A displaced cap stone? You know, I think it most probably is?

The supposition is given further credence by what lies behind the wall.... the disturbed, yet still massive remains of a major cairn, by the looks of it, chambered. Audrey Henshall [1972] reckoned Carn Liath is of Hebridean type – as you might perhaps expect? – rising to a height of 14’ and “probably measured about 60’ N-S along the axis of the chamber by 80’ transversely expanding to 90’ at the N end.” Clearly I can’t confirm those dimensions are current, but suffice to say they seem about right. He says. The monument is certainly very substantial and, furthermore, features an incomplete peristalith. Miss Henshall believed the chamber was entered from the SSE which I guess would account for the position of the assumed capstone beyond the wall. Last but not least the chambered cairn is accorded further complexity by the encroachment of a settlement upon its northern arc... judging by the differing styles of building footprint to be found here (round house, rectangular, er, house) my assumption is this is a multi-phase settlement? Hey, maybe the round houses were contemporary, or near contemporary with the monument? Or not, as the case may be.

So, the archaeology is excellent... but matched with ease by the coastal location, the site sandwiched between the sea and the green heights of the Trotternish Ridge to the east.... a curiously ‘upland’ terrain, despite being not that far above ordnance datum. Yeah in my opinion Skye is not pretty, a little bleak, even? Yet nonetheless I reckon it forms a beautiful, beguiling landscape demanding regular emotional updates from whatever it is that we call ‘the soul’. Anyway, as I sit and ‘do lunch’ my attention is drawn to the far north-western point of the ridge, approx a mile distant. The map reckons this is Cairidh nan Ob featuring, significantly, a dun Dun Liath a little to its right.

Hey, two miles sounds a lot when you’re already knackered. But sometimes you’ve just gotta walk.

With the benefit of hindsight – ah, a wondrous thing – perhaps a sojourn at this pair of monuments beneath the soaring, eastern profile of Beinn na Caillich wasn’t exactly conducive to a nice, relaxing evening following on from pretty intense visits to Shiel Bridge and nearby Achadh a’Chuirn?

Now this is not to insinuate that such an obscure location, one lying well out of sight of prying eyes within forestry – in fact only actually visible from upon the dominating mountain itself – doesn’t possess all the necessary constituents for the optimum vibe. Quite the contrary, in fact. To clarify, let’s just say that when even an authority such as Audrey Henshall [1972] was confused by the form of these monuments, to the point of even questioning their assumed funerary function, this Citizen Cairn’d’s brain wasn’t exactly going to be able to simply chill out. It wants answers! Now! Which, needless to say, were not forthcoming... I’d like to attribute this failure to the overgrown nature of the site, but perhaps that’s mere wishful thinking?

Thankfully I’m on much firmer ground – metaphorically speaking, since the physical terrain is very waterlogged indeed – as I attempt to ‘walk the talk’ (as our erstwhile revolutionaries across the Atlantic might well say) and follow my own previously posted directions. Yeah, parking opposite the electricity sub station the gaunt lattice work of a power pylon highlights the entrance to a wide forest break, this allowing the passage of its cable-slung companions through trees to the approx south-east. A lateral wire fence needs to be negotiated before, upon passing two further pylons, a gap in the trees will be discerned to the right leading unerringly to the relevant clearing. Pretty simple, to be honest. However interpreting the archaeology located within the clearing is anything but.

Initial observations are pretty standard, assuming any inspection incorporating the imposing mass of Beinn na Caillich filling the available skyline can be described as such, suggesting the presence of two disturbed chambered cairns subsumed within the long grass and aligned upon a roughly north-south axis. Closer examination, however, reveals not only what appears to be the welcome remains of a substantial kerb encircling the larger, northern monument... but also a distinct lack of ‘cairn’. The latter, of course, is easily explained away since many an ancient stone pile has been severely reduced – or destroyed – by locals pilfering building material for dry stone walls and such-like. And Nature has been pretty thorough reclaiming the stones for herself, possibly obscuring a lingering residue in the process.

What is not so easily explained is the apparent ‘horse shoe’ ground plan of the internal grouping of orthostats, the assumed ‘chamber’. Yeah, what was that all about? Why just pinch the cairn and chamber door... and leave the rest. Unless there was never a ‘door’ in the first place and the stones formed a free-standing arrangement within a kerb, or proto-circle? Supposition, naturally, but one can appreciate why Miss Henshall had her doubts back in 1962, perhaps? The southern monument is much less substantial but (tentatively) seems to follow the same pattern.

Somewhat perplexed, I decide to lie back in my self-imposed, albeit temporary obscurity and enjoy the moment under the watchful gaze of whoever – if anyone... ‘Saucy Sue’, perhaps? – still resides within Beinn na Caillich’s great cairn looming overhead. I’m hoping the subliminal workings of my subconscious will bring enlightenment. However they do not. Aside from the realisation that, for more or less the first time this trip, conditions are ideal for the midges which are now making their presence felt. Little bastards! Time to retrieve the head net from the rucksack and give them the proverbial ‘two fingers’, allowing me to drift off for a while. OK, I might not be enlightened... but I’m nevertheless illuminated by a sun seemingly intent upon doing its thang before finally dropping below the razor-sharp skyline. So, time to go, having decided to spend the night below An Sithean.

So who’s correct about the nature of what is to be found here in this wondrously quiet spot? The post WW1 RCAHMS... or Audrey Henshall visiting at the beginning of the swinging 60’s? For what it’s worth I would suggest both authorities have a point and perhaps these are idiosyncratic monuments. Not classic chambered cairns, but maybe incorporating hybrid elements? Guess the best course of action for those who might be intrigued is to come and have a look for themselves.

Abernethy is a lovely wee town famous for its Round Tower, Pictish Stone and biscuits. Overlooking the town is the fort at Castle Law.

From Abernethy head west on the A913 and take the first minor heading south. This actually practically heads back east then veers south. A path is signposted to Castle Law so look carefully for it, we parked at the first track, west, near a disused quarry.

Heading back down the road we found the path and headed west. About half way up there is a notice board describing the areas history. This has been a busy area in the past attracting visitors from Italy and Denmark. The fort seems to have survived these less than friendly tourists.

The path, which is in good condition, eventually crosses over the inner wall of the fort. Originally 2 walls surrounded the fort. The inner wall must have been huge and was reckoned to be 3-4 meters in height, with a timber barricade built on top. It was 7 meters in width. The outer wall wasn’t so tall and didn’t have a topping of timber.

Inside the oval fort the well still exists along with the obligatory walkers cairn. After a bit of time soaking in the vibe it was time for us to head back down, this time via a path on the eastern flank. This path is fairly steep as DM proved by overtaking the startled cairn finding dog using age old methods on the soft part of his body. This path led to the disused quarry which in turn led back to the car. Two of us walked whilst one nursed his pride and his backside.

Fantastic site, fantastic views!

Visited 22/8/2015.

After the somewhat depressing scenes at Clatchard Craig we headed further west to the hillfort at Black Cairn. Go through Newburgh on the A913 and take the first minor road south, called Woodriffe Road. Take the first road east (or 2nd), called Banklands and stop at the northern end of the road.

The path starts well, on tar, then thru a field, where we were greeted by Shetland ponies and eventually straight east and uphill. This is very steep in places. Once at the top of this climb go between the two hills, over a gate and then over the fence to the south. The hill in front is the fort and patches of defensive wall can be seen. Sadly most of the defences have gone but at least it hasn’t suffered the fate of its neighbour to the east.

A walkers cairn sits on top of the hill giving superb views. To the north the River Earn can be seen entering the River Tay, to the east Normans/Glenduckie hillforts, the west Castle Law and to the south The Lomonds. A look to the south of the peak will reveal more ruined defences of the singular wall.

After good look round it was back down the hill and onwards to Abernethy.

Visited 22/8/2015.

Funnily enough it’s more-or-less 200 years since that little preening, gobshite Corsican, Napoleon Bonaparte, came to a field near another Waterloo and saw his imperial power base sink forever in Belgian mud stained red with blood. Not surprisingly I’ve no plans to build an empire of my own; instead finding myself rather more interested in furthering my ongoing stony destiny at this Inner Hebridean Waterloo – or Achadh a’Chuirn, should you prefer the vernacular... which I do.

The linear hamlet occupies the western base of the Ardnish peninsular forming the eastern flank of Broadford Bay... albeit a bit of a gloriously wonky one. The dwellings of its inhabitants stand to the landward of a single road skirting water’s edge, this terminating at Rubh’ Achadh a’Chuirn and proferring a magnificently iconic view of Beinn na Caillich rising above Broadford.. as well as the site of another, massive chambered cairn immediately across the water at Liveras. It is possible to leave a car or two in strategically placed laybys here without inconveniencing the locals. I leave my vehicle in one such before heading approx north to, quite literally, the end of the road. My plan is to head to the right and subsequently double back southwards behind the settlement to (hopefully) locate the chambered cairn in its own, enclosed crofter’s strip field.

Needless to say the execution of said plan was not supposed to feature stepping knee deep into bog on two separate occasions (like a prize muppet), my reward for such privations to eventually locate the monument behind serious barbed wire... not to mention in full view of the gauntly staring windows of the adjacent house. Now I’ve never actually been diagnosed with Scopophobia – assuming that is a possibility? – but nevertheless decide to retrace my steps (further encouraged to do so by the cacophony made by nearby horrible hounds) and – unlike the emperor with the dodgy hat – retreat to fight another day. In a manner of speaking.

Anyway, in one of those bizarre coincidences that occasionally manifest themselves I discover that I have actually parked immediately in front of the required house, identified by a name plate as ‘Geol na Maira’. I duly knock... only to find classical music emanating from an upstairs room repeatedly masking my exertions. That would be Brahms Third Racket, I believe? Boiling over with frustration, the proverbial ‘one last try’ thankfully alerts Fiona, the occupant, to my skulking presence. She’s only too happy to grant me access to her ‘back garden’.

The ground is churned to mud by livestock, which would be a problem if the monument was of earthen construction. However since it’s a stone pile – and a bloody big one at that – I guess this is not an issue. Yeah, it has to be said that rather a lot of cairn still remains in situ, albeit somewhat imperfectly camouflaged with turf (see Carl’s Misc entry for details). Furthermore, as surmised by the pros back in 1972, I can confirm that the monument most certainly possesses a chamber, as evidenced by a couple of small orthostats still in position. There are hints of more detail lying beneath the surface....

I sit and munch – a very belated – lunch as the watery sun plays hide ‘n’ seek with the fast moving cloudbase, so allowing washes of light to flood the monument and its immediate landscape whilst rain falls from darker skies above the bay. That’ll be ‘changeable’ weather, then? Once again the curvaceous – or as Aldous Huxley would have perhaps said, ‘pneumatic’ – profile of Beinn na Caillich dominates the western skyline. I guess I’m probably biased, not least since the peak is blessed by the apparent tomb of “Saucy Sue”... to use the local moniker, as kindly volunteered by Fiona. However I really think the outlook from this monument is something special. Wonder satiated – well, at least for now – my thoughts are drawn to the dark patch of forestry visible below, and to the left, of the enigmatic mountain. That’ll be where the Old Corry chambered cairns are located, then? Needless to say the itinerary for the rest of the day is sorted.

So, in the end I have my audience with Achadh a’Chuirn’s great cairn. There is no Lion’s Mound here as at that other Waterloo burned indelibly into European consciousness. But then, considering what I’ve found tucked away in this obscure croft strip of this small hamlet... I reckon Skye has got the better deal.

Emerging from a rain-lashed overnight stop upon Mam Ratagan.... I decide to rectify an omission dating from my previous visit to the environs of Loch Duich before finally – and not before time – crossing once again to the wondrously misty Isle of Skye. Yeah, reckon the time is nigh to determine what – if anything – remains of the henge said to stand near Shiel Bridge. Well, as it happens there is quite a lot....

Now to say, with any conviction, that the prevailing weather conditions have improved depends, I suppose, upon your definition of ‘improved’. Suffice to say that the introduction of periodic intervals between hitherto incessant downpours, such respites enlivened by bursts of golden light slanting through cracks in the clouds, constitutes a welcome progression to this traveller. Nevertheless conditions are still pretty shite, it has to be said.

The ‘hengiform enclosure’ stands within very soggy pasture due west of Glenshiel Lodge. In fact the enclosed field is so wet as to almost require a sub-aqua visit... so what the local herbivores make of it is anybody’s guess. Anyway, I park up by the cattle grid sunk within the minor Ratagan road and kit myself out in waterproofs, having neglected to pack any diving stuff. Gingerly entering the pasture it soon becomes apparent that here, standing in almost complete obscurity at the south-eastern end of a glowering Loch Duich, we do indeed have a pretty well defined, albeit diminutive henge. Marvellous. And what a location, too!

According to the Ordnance Survey [JM 1974] – who, rather paradoxically, do not feature the monument upon either the current 1:50 or 1:25k maps – the monument consists of a “level central area, 7.8m in diameter” with a “surrounding bank, c. 3.4m wide x 0.2m high”, this best preserved upon the eastern arc. There would appear some doubt as to whether the henge possesses two causeways, one to east and west; in the OS report it is alleged that only the western is original, the eastern merely a “mutilation”. I couldn’t form a clear opinion owing to ongoing erosion being caused, judging by the footprints, by grazing livestock. This really is not on. I understand – from a passer by – that the landowner is a Scottish patriot? If so I would suggest an active appreciation of the cultures of the peoples that lived here before the Scots arrived would be a good base line?

The weather fronts arrive, unleash their contents and subsequently move away in timely procession. I receive a bit of a pasting.... but it is worth the effort before the pull of Skye becomes too much.

Well, this is a challenge. How to describe the small, round cairn which stands here in more-or-less total obscurity – in sublime isolation – beside the fast flowing River Etive as it prepares to enter its loch and, henceforth, the sea? How to adequately convey why I reckon the intense vibe, allied to preservation, makes this is one of the finest sites of its genre in all Alba? Hmm. How indeed... since, as Thom Yorke said, “Just ‘cos you feel it, doesn’t mean it’s there”. All I have is personal opinion.

Having said that – and running with the assumption that these monuments’ raison d’etre was to manipulate human behaviour through the generation of emotions above and beyond what we homo sapiens have the cerebral capacity to process in a rational manner – this modest example furnishes everything I look for when out and about in the field. Whether that ‘everything’ can actually be defined in a rational manner or not. In short, I reckon this monument absolutely nails it.

I approach in somewhat low spirits following a necessarily truncated visit to the indefensibly maltreated cairn at Gualachulain, located a little further south-west at the head of Loch Etive. Unfortunately that’s one of the penalties of actually giving a damn, but there you are. Passing Loch Druimachoish (on my left) and subsequently crossing the Allt nan Gaoirean, two dirt tracks are soon encountered in quick succession. The right hand of the pair leads to the ‘Forester’s House’, the cairn standing in pasture bordering the river beyond. The fenced field is accessed by an unlocked gate, my low expectations immediately blown asunder by both the sheer serenity of the spot and the apparently intact condition of the monument slumbering beneath a mossy carapace. Truly, the rotting, apparently unsafe remains of a walkers’ bridge crossing the river notwithstanding, time appears to have been upon an extended hiatus here.

The cairn is small, yet perfectly formed... “Bowl shaped in profile it measures 8.25 metres in diameter by 1.6 metres in height.. constructed with a kerb of boulders on which a second retaining course of stones has been carefully set.” RCAHMS [1975]. The archaeology is more than matched by the quality of the surrounding landscape, most notably the dramatic profile of Beinn Ceitlein soaring above the far bank of the River Etive to the north-east. Then again the snow-streaked, mountainous skyline to the approx south-west is pretty dramatic, too, it has to be said. However the former is particularly arresting owing to the deep ‘V’-shaped chasm carved by the Garbh Allt to the right of Stob Dubh. Now clearly the question as to whether this scenic idiosyncrasy influenced the placement of the cairn or not is rhetorical... and, in any event, likely to raise the ire of tiresome pseudo-feminists should I comment further (don’t you so prefer the real thing?) Whatever, shielded from the road by a blanket of forestry and but a short distance from the wondrous, fast flowing river, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that the person compiling the Oxford English Dictionary had this location in his/her mind’s eye when finalising the entry for ‘idyllic’. Really, I wouldn’t.

So, the anticipated ‘quick visit’ instead morphs into a protracted chill out, any notion of getting to Skye today (once again) shelved until tomorrow. Yeah, it appears Glen Etive is actually a pretty good place for a Citizen Cairn’d to spend a few hours or so after all?

As it transpires I actually make Loch Duich before nightfall, the pristine blue sky of the morning comprehensively swept into oblivion by an overwhelming front of driving rain. Nevertheless a short visit to the enigmatic Dunan Diarmid rounds off the day before retiring to Mam Ratagan.

Together with its larger neighbour Creag a’ Chapuill – also well worth a visit... but better appreciated from the B840 at Loch Ederline – the copiously craggy Dun Chonallaich comprehensively controls the northern approach to Kilmartin Glen. Indeed, standing dramatic sentinel above the A816, the sheer perpendicularity of the site is a little off-putting to the prospective visitor. Well, at least this one, fresh from a contemplative – OK, lazy – morning at the Baroile chambered cairn. However with said morning’s very low cloud base having dissipated, albeit reluctantly, I decide that today might as well be the day to finally determine what actually resides upon that fearsome rocky little height. Curiosity, eh? To be honest I can’t imagine any characteristically lethargic member of the family Felidae venturing up Dun Chonallaich, so cat lovers needn’t concern themselves.

Dun Chonallaich overlooks the Abhainn Airidhcheoduin (sort of) shadowing the A816, the water course suddenly thrown into spasm, executing an abrupt series of looping convulsions immediately to the south-east of the fort... as if reluctant to flow onward through Kilmartin Glen to the sea. Whatever the geological reason for this apparent disinclination to yield to the force of gravity the outcome was no doubt handy for the former occupiers, the linear water obstacle and associated marshland further enhancing the apparent impregnability of the site to an assault back in the day. This idiosyncrasy also ensures a modern day visit is no easy skate either, albeit thankfully without rocks, arrows and – no doubt – insults aimed at one’s person.

No off-road parking is available beneath the site... so I elect to stop in the entrance to a forestry track a little to the south and walk back to the bridge across the river. Incidentally this is as good a spot as any from which to approach Creag a’ Chapuill along the northern edge of the forestry. But I digress... once across the bridge a very rough scramble steeply upwards to the east through scrubby woodland brings me to an area of significant scree which, due to its apparent regularity, I take to be the collapsed remains of defensive outworks? From here trending to the left (north) appears the path of least resistance to the summit, although Christison (1889) cites an entrance to the south-east. Unfortunately I neglect to check this out upon my descent getting carried away in the moment.

Whatever the original approach... mine, to the approx north, is certainly covered by the remnants of dry stone walling, my not inconsiderable exertions encouraged by glimpses of more of the same perched above my head. Anyway... and not before time... I finally clamber up to emerge upon the summit into a fierce wind, finding most of the top occupied by a rocky ridge, this in turn encircled by a pretty substantial wall enclosing an area “about 37m by 16m” [RCAHMS 1988]. A couple of dry stone structures are notable, the most obvious of which is a modern looking circular enclosure which was apparently erected to serve as a film set a little before the RCAHMS’s visit. Such a ‘who gives a damn?’ mentality might well have encouraged significant vandalism of the summit wall soon afterward. I would say ‘you couldn’t make it up’, but there you are. Clearly – very sadly – there is no need to make this kind of disgraceful act up. Nevertheless, to focus upon positivity as one must try to do in such circumstances, far more ancient walling remains in situ than I ever imagined, with further stretches covering the eastern approach to the summit area. Yeah, this is a pretty damn fine Iron Age fort regardless of the actions of morons/film directors.

And then there are the sublime views to be enjoyed from this isolated little peak. Southward the course of the aforementioned Abhainn Airidhcheoduin leads the gaze between (and beyond) Creag a’ Chapuill and the great cairn of Carn Ban to Kilmartin itself and the distant coast; the northern arc (apparently) features another dun crowning the similarly rocky height of Dun Dubh to the right. However it is that to the east which, for me, takes the plaudits with ease... a fantastic vista looking along Loch Awe to distant Ben Cruachan, with Loch Ederline winning ‘best supporting water feature’ to the right, incidentally complete with crannog and nearby standing stones. Yeah, it really is something. In fact such is the vibe up here upon this miniature mountain that I decide to linger and forgo plans to venture to Skye today... and subsequently even Glen Etive... to settle for a camp within Glen Orchy. Not a hardship, to be fair.

Particularly with a short visit to the chambered cairn at Cladich (at the north-eastern end of Loch Awe) to be enjoyed en route. A fine way to round off the day.

Stot Hill long cairn is only a few meters away from the more famous Cairn Mude. Much damaged and much battered this cairn will probably vanish due to forestation. It is over 20 meters in length, reaches 1 meter in height and is supposed to 8 meters wide (flattened would be a better word).

Visited 11/8/2015.

The photo is very misleading as basically the whole fort has been blasted away by quarrying. Fortunately various finds were discovered during ‘rescue excavations’ 1954,59 and 60. These can be read about in the link below.

As for the site now all that can be seen is the blasted front of a hill just south of Newburgh. It was quite sad having a look round trying to imagine what once was. Still there are loads of other forts in an area that seems to have gone quarrying daft.

Visited 22/8/2015.

Listed on Pastscape as a “Broken standing stone on Anglezarke Moor. Possibly prehistoric, but more likely a med/post-medieval waymarker” this stone at least has its feet rooted in the ground, not in peat & is also situated away from any major stone working sites, but as with so much up here the question of its antiquity remains. In common with most of the Anglezarke sites whichever way you try to access this stone, bogs & tufty grass are on the menu!

A wonderfully sited standing stone on Stronstrey bank, if this is Neolithic it has had an amazing escape situated as it is in the middle of & surrounded by post medieval stone workings. Personally I think I think it’s contemporary with the surrounding stone workings and has been standing for a few hundred years at most.

Dawn arrives a little way south-east of Kintraw ushering in one of those mornings where it is resolutely NOT a joy to wild camp in Scotland – or any other place for that matter. Yeah, one where the very atmosphere appears to be contracting in upon itself toward apparent claustrophobic myopia, a swirling mass of grey/white vapour unleashing a hitherto retained, most unwelcome cargo of driving rain. But there you are. Scotland is as Scotland does. Echoing, perhaps, the actions of pioneer English antiquarians of bygone times, a couple of pints of tea duly revive a flagging spirit, fortify the resolution to make every moment spent in such wondrous locations count. So, Baroile chambered cairn it is, then? Hell yeah! To be honest the bravado is not overly convincing, so I hurry to commit to actions before I can change my mind....

Despite the appalling weather Kilmartin Glen is alive this morning with sundry locals and tourists going about their business, the latter betraying their (presumably) more pleasurable vocation through either inappropriately slight or excessive protection from the elements. I like Kilmartin, the grey stone piles lying marooned within lush pasture so matter-of-factly as to suggest the intervening millennia since their inception are but a figment of our modern imagination. Having said that there is also something a little too ‘manicured’ about the monuments for my taste nowadays; guess for me they possess the archaeology, but lack the intensity of vibe. Elitist bastard.

Anyway, following the A816 past the great Ballymeanoch alignments upon the right, with Dunadd rearing enigmatically upon the near horizon, a minor road (severely potholed) heads left toward ‘Rhudle Mill’. The ‘road’ – for want of a better term – eventually peters out at Kilbride farm, but it is possible to park within an old quarry now utilised as an apparently terminal resting place for sundry units of farm machinery etc. Here a footbridge crosses the swollen Rhudil Burn (not a typo, that) whereby a short, soggy, shallow ascent trending to the left brings me within sight of the monument I’ve come to see in surprisingly short order. ‘Surprisingly’ since I was unable to locate the chambered cairn upon my previous visit to the nearby Rhudil Cairn. In retrospect I have no explanation for such a failure except to cite navigational error. Hey, it happens. And ‘amen’ to that since I’ll always wish to retain the imperfect human element in finding these places. Suffice to say I’m not a fan of GPS.

A barbed wire fence blocks progress, although a field gate is available. The monument, located upon a little grassy knoll (thankfully without picket fence...) affording excellent views upon and down the Rhudil valley is, in my opinion, impressive. Roughly oval, the cairn (according to RCAHMS 1988) “measures about 26m by 24m” with four (and a bit) upright stones ranging from “1.1m high” at the eastern end to “1.25m” in the west forming a substantial façade facing north-north-east. The axial chamber, accessed through the remains of a double portal “measures about 3.5m in length by 0.8m in breadth and up to 0.85m in height internally...” and is subdivided into two compartments upon a slightly wonky alignment. Or so it would seem. Unfortunately an 1929 excavation by Craw did not return any grave goods.

As I sit and take it all in – the experience, as is often the case, much more that the sum of its parts – revelling in the knowledge that such an unobtrusive, well preserved and – above all – atmospheric monument can be found so close to the Kilmartin honey pot, the inclemental weather of morning begins to falter and finally move away to terrorise some other poor buggers. The sun duly takes the opportunity to break through the cloud mantle and quite literally display Baroile chambered cairn in something approaching its best light. Yeah, the silence may well be golden here this late morning... but so is the intensity of late Spring colour. A perfect combination.