Latest Fieldnotes

First stop of an another long but good day. Coming from the east on the A926, to Kirriemuir from the A90, take the minor road south at Maryton then the first farm track east. I stopped at two cottages, the second of which appeared to used as a rubbish dump.

Both of these stones have fallen and are 3 meters in length and over a meter wide. Chokes lay about underneath. It might have been a circle (if it was it would have been impressive to see the other stones all standing as well) according to Canmore.

Also known as Fletcherfield there seems to be a lot of destroyed souterrains in the area. Still, decent souterrains aren’t faraway. Tealing, Airlie, Shanzie etc.

Visited 27/12/2014.

After reading Rhiannon’s folklore about this place I’ve always wanted to go. Check out a bit of Arthurian legend etc.

This is a stunning place with stunning views and friendly cows. I approached from the west heading north from Alyth (not a very good baker) on the B954 stopping between the Hill Of Loyal (west) and Barry Hill (east). The western climb is a steep effort but worthwhile from my point of view as it showed that my fitness is coming back. Plus it takes you past the small pond. The fort itself is some 78 meters in length and 23 meters wide and now contains some wind shelters built with rampart stones. On the south east rampart the entrance can be found.

Several ramparts have been constructed some reaching four meters in height and some 15 meters in width. The inner defences are made from rocks and anything they could get their hands on. Defences on west are natural as I found out!

The pond on the western side (is fenced) is inside the ramparts on a plateau and once again old Mr Easson was right as he mentioned this place as well. Canmore described it as an outer fort. So they had a water supply.

From the air this place must be stunning as the Canmore notes state. Being the last stop of a very long and early day I wandered all around the fort several times. This fort is a remarkable achievement, like Barmkyn up in my corner, and simply amazed me. Best to look for yourselves if possible.

By the time I’d finished wandering it was getting dangerously dark so it was back down the hill and into the car to head back up to the NE.

Visited 22/12/2014.

If ever a site could be restored this might go down as a possible contender. A fantastic site with an uncovered souterrain. Fortunately the cross lintels, or at least some of the them are still there. In between the walls amongst the grass there is some form of flooring. There seems to have been entrances at both ends with some kind storage room in the middle, on the inside of the curve. If Barns of Airlie is 19 meters in length then Shanzie appears to me to be well over twenty meters. I tried looking for cup marks but unfortunately couldn’t see any as the light was gradually beginning to fade.

Set on a wee hill across from Shanzie Farm this is a tremendous site with nice views south. With that done it was the odd route to the standing stone on the overlooking hill.

Thanks to John Easson and his father for this one. Spot on. The other sites they mentioned will be visited on the next visit to Angus/Perthshire. Park with permission at the farm. Once again the friendly owner told me of a few places including Barry Hill.

Visited 22/12/2014.

TMA members have been eulogising about the merits of this obscure site for a couple of years now.... however since my visits to Gwynedd are – at best – an annual occurrence nowadays, it’s taken a while to discover what all the fuss is about. But there you. Better late than never.

‘Ye Old Bull Inn’ is a conspicuously attractive landmark (purely from an aesthetic viewpoint, of course) for travellers heading north through Tal-y-Bont, minor roads accessing Llyn Eigiau and Bwlch-y-Ddeufaen exiting the B5106 to left and right of the building respectively. I select the former, the gravity-defying tarmac climbing steeply away from the fertile Dyffryn Conwy in such a manner as to provide a serious, if not insurmountable challenge to a front wheel drive vehicle under icy conditions. However just the ubiquitous Snowdonian rain to contend with today. So, ignoring a left hand fork heading toward the Coedty Reservoir (incidentally take this to visit Cae Du) I pause above the farm of Rowlyn Isaf to concurrently negotiate a gate and allow the (presumed) owner to overtake and go about his business unimpeded by such as I. Yeah, some people have work to do. Anyway, a little beyond the final gate prior to the more-or-less straight approach to the Llyn Eigiau parking area it is (fortunately) possible to leave a car near a couple of prominent ladder stiles.

Back at the aforementioned gate, this traveller, shorn of protective steel carapace, now subject to all the vagaries of the inclement weather, a substantial drystone wall makes a reasonable enough job of emphasising the contours of the hillside falling away toward the swollen Afon Dulyn. That’ll be the way to go, then. The river, sourced within the Dulyn Reservoir cradled beneath the forbiddingly craggy eastern flank of Foel Grach, presents a pretty significant barrier to further progress. Once across (dryshod, although I’m not so competent upon the return!) I continue, uphill now, shadowing the boundary line until a lateral wall (with stile) passively announces I’m but a short distance south of the Hafodygors Wen Cairn II. Unfortunately there is very little to report of the latter, the cairn all but destroyed, its material returned to the landscape to ‘go ‘round again’. Or something like that.

But what of the celebrated ring cairn? As the previous posts make clear, the massive erratic boulder is the key to its successful location. The monument is set a short distance south (that is toward the river) so even the likes of myself couldn’t fail. The position, overlooking the Afon Dulyn, is excellent, in a rather brutal ‘upland’ sort of way. A quartet of significant orthostats stand within/upon (I’m not sure which) a reasonably well defined ring cairn, such definition no doubt enhanced by Chris’s previous gardening exploits. Well done that man. Although a few Bellis perennis wouldn’t have gone amiss. The high peaks of Y Carneddau, their summits truncated by an all encompassing mass of grey vapour long since past critical saturation point, provide a suitably brooding backdrop to the west and south-west, the latter, enlivened by the shattered rock of Craig Eigiau, arguably the most enigmatic. Despite the rain – or perhaps even more so because of it? – this is a place to sit and ponder, to think about stuff. Yeah, whatever comes into the head. The profound, the base... the focussed, the incoherent. Random thought... it’s all good. Although unfortunately I guess it’s advisable to retain some exclusively within my head nowadays. My ‘mind palace’, as Benedict Cumberbatch might say, albeit one with a bit of a leaky roof, needing renovation.

Speaking of thought .... just what were the architects of this idiosyncratic monument thinking when they erected it all those millennia ago? Is it a unique North Walian ‘four poster?’ Sure it looks like one. However to be honest I’m not completely convinced owing to the placement of the stones relative to the assumed arc of the stone circle’s circumference. Somehow the angles don’t seem right for just the four stones? Having said that, I’ve not had the pleasure of seeing much more than a half dozen of the type, so happy to defer to those that have. Whatever the truth this is, regardless, a wondrous monument set within classic upland scenery and blessed with that most precious attribute of all. Vibe, atmosphere.

Worth getting the feet wet for.

Entering Alyth from the east I parked just after the golf course at the first house. From here a track heads south which leads to a golf practise area. Jump the fence the standing stone should be 300 meters approximately away to the east.

Lovely stone and the paint that Nick mentions has now faded completely. Good time to visit.........no golfers.

Visited 22/12/2014.

From the souterrain I headed straight up Drumderrach Hill. A fairly steep climb with loads of nasty trees with branches at the wrong height and jabby things. However I eventually reached a path, probably used by pheasant shooters, and headed back east which led to the stone.

Fantastic views looking south towards the River Isla and beyond. From here it’s straight down the hill as in Nick’s notes which I should have used in the first place.

Visited 22/12/2014.

From the Kirton of Airlie I drove on the westish minor road until I reached Philpie, almost onto the A926. Opposite the Philpie gate walk go into the field opposite (today a mud bath), walk along the fence and it takes you straight to the stones.

To me, one of them looks like a glacerial and the other (east) looks like a proper standing stone. Good setting tho.

Visited 22/12/2014.

From Philpie head west on the A926 and head north on the next minor road. I parked at Dryloch Farm. Take the track south next to farm which leads to another track then turn west. According to the OS map following the tree line south and then west leads to the cairn. This maybe isn’t the case as a new plantation seems to have appeared and I had great fun climbing deer fences, jumping burns and wandering thru bogs before reaching a track of sorts. Still I followed this west until fir trees appeared then OS map was almost correct.

The cairn itself still stands at 28 meters wide and is 2 meters tall. Kerbs still exist on the west and east flanks. Sadly the centre has been badly hollowed and has been used as a rubbish dump by the forestry people. Still its a great place and a wee clean up would do wonders.

Just to the north of the cairn there is a track which in its own twisty way leads eventually back to farm. So no adventures on the way back. Still a fine hike of four miles all round one way difficult and one way easy.

Visited 22/12/2014.

Despite a number of visits at different times of day/year it has always been difficult to get decent images of the worn motifs . Some from yesterday weren’t too bad .

After walking back up from the souterrain John Easson showed me a cup marked stone and 5 querns.

The cup marked rock has 2 cups about 2” wide and deep plus 3 smaller cups on one side. On the other side there is one cup also “2 wide and deep. Sadly this stone/slab has been broken and maybe there is an another part lying somewhere.

Also in the collection were 5 querns in various conditions. Several querns can also be seen in Alyth museum.

Visited 22/12/2014.

Just up the hill from the Kirkton Of Airlie the Barns of Airlie is a fantastic souterrain in superb condition. Everything in the fieldnotes by Martin still applies except that one of the lintils is cracked and in need of support. John Easson, the farmer, informed me that the HS people in Edinburgh had promised some goalpost structure to support the stone two years ago. But no sign yet.

It is important to think of the atmosphere inside this place. There is a strange calmness inside the 19 meter structure, even the leakages seemed to add to the age of the place. SC will be pleased to know the butteries were eaten after climbing back out of the narrow entrance.

On reaching the bottom of the hill I met up with John Easson and he informed me about a cup marked rock and several querns that had been ploughed up. His father was also there, he had souterrains and standing stones sprouting everywhere. He was right, of course, and let me know about another fantastic souterrain plus several sites I hadn’t heard about.

Visited 22/12/2014.

Leave Airlie taking the minor road from the A926 and keep going until the Kirkton of Airlie. I parked at the church and headed east along track following the Airlie Burn. After passing the second house the track deteriorates to a muddy path but by this time the cairn can be seen to the north of the burn. Luckily there is a bridge to the field containing the cairn.

The cairn has been somewhat battered. It is a 28m by 22m rectangle and sits at 1.5 meters high. Plenty cairn material can be seen along with several large stones. Other stones that might have been part of cists also lay strewn about. Still the cairn survives and the locals certainly keep it alive with St Meddan’s memory.

With that it was back into the mud bath and a decent walk back to the church.

Visited 22/12/2014.

I parked at the Airlie village hall and walked back east along the A926 jumping the fence near the stone. The stone has been put back up, has had some field clearance/chokes removed and now has a nice fence surrounding it. Nice setting to restart with.

Visited 23/12/2014.

Visited 20.12.14

Not quite the Solstice but as the weather forecast was better and I take Dafydd to his swimming lessons on Sunday mornings it was to be an eve of Solstice visit. Not unexpectedly I had the place to myself. It was quite warm for the time of year although the wind was rather cutting. I looked around and waited for the sun to rise. Despite a menacing cloud bank on the horizon it was possible to tell where the sun was coming up and it was clear the chamber did not line up with the winter solstice. In fact, my guess is it lines up with the Equinox. A further visit required next year then to confirm my theory!

On the way home I popped into Tinkinswood. Again I had the place to myself although there were quite a few animals about. Sheep and rabbits in the next fields and a grey squirrel which I startled and it fled up the nearest tree. There seemed to be more ribbons tied to the branches of the tree next to the gate than I remember but otherwise things were the same. The inside of the chamber was once again under water.

Much better way to start the day than lying in bed methinks!

Gallows Hill, as the name suggests, was once a place of execution, but long before that it was a Bronze Age barrow cemetery (if you can count four large mounds as a cemetery). It’s part of the larger Graffham Common area which contains quite a large number of tumuli, with barrows at Little and Great Bury nearby. These heathland barrows are typical of the surrounding area, occurring in patches along the northern side of the South Downs at places like Lord’s Piece, Sullington Warren, Lavington Common and Iping Common. In fact it’s fair to say that there are probably more monuments in these areas than directly on the ridge of the South Downs where they are more noticeable, though any signs of habitation, defence, etc. have long since disappeared from the heathland areas, buried by cultivation, villages and towns.

The barrows at Gallows Hill are once again openly visible having spent the last hundred years covered in pine forest with trees actually growing on some of them. Recent cutting and clearance reveals four quite large and handsome mounds in a fairly lofty position on the edge of an escarpment overlooking swathes of woodland and the valley of the River Rother.

Unremarkable as this site is in itself it does give a huge amount of context to the entire surrounding coastline. These barrows along the cliff top would have been clearly visible in the right weather conditions from both Hengistbury head and across from the Purbecks. I’m intrigued by the inter connectivity of sites like Rempstone circle and the coastal road from Corfe towards the ferry at Poole where all of this strip of Bournemouth is seen opposite, we’re these barrows connected in some way with those sites. It brings another level of drama to see a barrow not just atop a prominent hill but crowning the headland itself.

Today though the site is much changed, thoroughly dug out, excavated almost completely obliterated into neatly clipped grass and an occasional bench to sit on and take in the view. If you take the time to sit on one of these benches however and look out then perhaps you can make the ancient landscape come alive again in your imagination.

(Do you have a grid reference, Texlahoma? At the moment it’s coming up somewhere off the coast of France :) Thanks – TMA Ed.)

A dispassionate – and hence somehow all the more gloomy – forecast of blanket low cloud across the South Walian uplands is responsible for a rare surety this morning. Yeah, instead of the usual somewhat, er, ‘fluid’ journey parameters, today the Mam C and I will visit the great hill fort of Carn Goch, South Wales’ “whatever you can do...” counter to Gwynedd’s magnificent Garn Boduan. Or Tre’r Ceiri, if you prefer. Needless to say we don’t make it.

Climbing away from Upper Brynamman upon the A4069, the beguiling vision... for those who choose to ‘see’... of the Tair Carn Uchaf (and Isaf) Bronze Age cemeteries standing proud upon the western-most slopes of Y Mynydd Du only serves to – yet again – ratify the maxim than nothing is ever certain when it comes to mountain weather. So where’s the cloud, then? Dunno. Passing the Cwm Garw settlement below to our right (must actually stop one day – duh!) and parking up at the old quarry site of Pen Rhiw Wen, it’s time to switch to manual prediction, the MK1 eyeball and copious experience. A final wraith of grey vapour extricates itself from the summit crags of Garreg Lwyd and dissipates. On my head be it. To the hills!

The ascent of Garreg Lwyd – at least from the north-west – is the least arduous of any 2,000ft peak in Wales. Which is handy for us two these days and highly recommended to anyone wanting to ‘dip a toe’ in the ‘sparkling waters’ of upland exploration. Or something like that. Nevertheless the landscape soon becomes as brutally incoherent and haphazard as many another far higher mountain, so don’t take liberties in mist please. Heading south-east from the car park the angle of attack eases in relatively short order, the massive summit cairn soon visible beyond some natural outcropping. I wouldn’t exactly call it a limestone ‘pavement’.... although if you’ve seen some pedestrian paths around Aldgate recently the comparison is there to be made. To be honest the sheer scale of the monument takes me back a little, this despite having visited the summit a number of times previously. The most obvious feature is a large ‘marker cairn’ perched upon the south-western section, presumably formed of original cairn material. However it soon becomes clear that a significant volume of stone still remains more or less in situ, particularly upon the eastern/southern arcs. Simply put, this was a massive cairn in its day bearing direct comparison with Carn Pen-y-clogau and the aforementioned Tair Carn monuments to the approx west. It’s therefore – as usual – unfortunate that, in addition to the marker cairn, vandals (for, let it be said, that is what they are) have also fashioned a couple of ‘shelters’ from the ancient fabric. That these are poorly constructed and subject to immediate collapse under my weight is a moot point. Ironically the nearby OS trig pillar bears a plaque stating that damaging the same is a criminal offence. Priorities, eh? These gripes aside, the monument occupies a wondrously desolate position with far reaching vistas to all points of the compass.... assuming the visitor clutches said navigational aid in his/her hand the validity of this statement is easily verified. The most dramatic is arguably that to the east, looking toward the central peaks of Y Mynydd Du, perhaps the most expansive that to the coast. But don’t take my word for it. Hey, don’t take my word for anything. Particularly how the great cairn of Carn Pen-y-Clogau appears to sit perfectly upon the horizon from here.

The day is getting on a bit, albeit still reasonably attractive. Bit like Kate Moss, you could say? However the siren call of the uplands lures us onward, if not exactly upward, heading east toward Foel Fraith instead of returning to the car for Carn Goch. This is ‘shake hole’ country, those enigmatic circular depressions in the limestone working in association with ragged peat hags to add a surreal, somewhat otherworldly aspect to the rough moor between the two peaks. Foel Fraith is characterised by linear rocky outcrops forming the western flank. And not a lot else, to be fair. Unless one is particularly turned on by summit bog. What is does possess, however, is a fine view of the twin cairns of Carnau’r Garreg Las crowning the chaotic Twyn-swnd rising across Cwm Sawdde Fechan, these in turn directing the gaze further east to the heartland of Y Mynydd Du. Immediately north is Cefn y Cylchau featuring a number of clearly much smaller monuments. Today, however, all this appears too taxing. Or rather is too taxing. Time to sit and chill out, enjoy the moment.

Hours fly and soon it’s almost time to leave. I wander off alone to take a few more images and notice a sheep apparently sitting in one of the aforementioned bogs. Trouble is it doesn’t immediately flee in blind panic at my approach... because it can’t. Stuck fast within the deadly, glutinous mud, its demeanour suggesting it has resigned itself – if sheep can do such a thing – to die here tonight from exposure whilst its companions look on without a trace of irascibility. I appear correct, since nothing I can do will budge the bloody thing. Damn! So how does a 12 stone man manage to drag a fully grown, completely waterlogged sheep from a mire while the Mam C sits a several hundred yards away, oblivious to calls overwhelmed by the wind? I’ve no idea. But the thought of leaving this creature to die a lonely death up here is too much to contemplate.... so the strength is somehow forthcoming.

We commence our return to Garreg Lwyd to watch dusk weave its magic from the great cairn, golden rays from the sinking sun illuminating the underside of the cloudbase with the subtle interplay of light. The Mam C suddenly points out a brown sheep standing munching the tough upland grass amongst a nearby group of otherwise more-or-less white ones. ‘Have you seen that?’ Well, now you come to mention it.....

The Mam C and I approach from the western prow of the fabulous Y Das... following a kamikaze sheep track eastward to circle the headwall of Cwm Dwr-y-coed, the eponymous stream – for here it is little more than nascent – tumbling down the mountain side with the reckless abandon of, well... a base jumping kamikaze sheep, perhaps?

To the south, the main summit ridge of The Black Mountains sweeps away from Pen-y-Manllwyn toward Pen y Gadair Fawr and its Bronze Age cairn, the relative uniformity of topography only serving to emphasise the sheer vastness of the sky, an occasional walker reduced to oblivion within the enormity of such a macro vision. It is certainly a thought provoking spectacle and not a little unnerving, particularly to homo sapiens conditioned at school to view ourselves as the culmination of existence. Yeah, right. We, however, turn back to face the west and advance along the southern flank of the cwm... Mynydd Bychan. Here, in direct contrast, the landscape is subject to such dramatic variance that the gaze is drawn irrevocably downward, no doubt an instinctive reaction to mitigate against the traveller walking blindly to his/her death. The resulting experience is just as dramatically awe inspiring as before, yet curiously more manageable, perhaps more in keeping with standard behavioural ‘templates’ stored within the human genome? But, don’t trust me. I’m not a doctor.

Whatever, this is classic mountainscape. The promontory narrows as we pass a small tarn choked (if that’s the correct description) with indeterminable species of flora, the modern cairn – perched precariously upon the mountain’s prow a little way beyond – signifying terra firma is about to be at an absolute premium in short order..... meaning the ‘platform cairn’ should be just about... here. Sure enough, to judge by the arc of compacted stone and apparent small uprights subsumed within, the Coflein people are correct and Mynydd Bychan is indeed crowned by such a monument. OK, structurally speaking the cairn is not exactly impressive. Although I guess by definition, by its very nature a ‘platform cairn’ would never have been that tall, never have possessed a truly upstanding profile. However such gripes pale to insignificance when I stand upon it and do a 360 degree sweep of the environs. Superlative scenery, indeed; the location surely one of the finest anywhere? The Mam C, ever cool (well except during our previous aborted visit here last year) settles down for lunch. I, on the other hand, can not sit still until I’ve taken a myriad more (mostly rubbish) images like a hyperactive child having ingested too many ‘E numbers’.

Time passes upon our spectacular eyrie all too quickly under the watchful gaze of both birds of prey and the occupants of the rather quieter gliders, both of which ride the thermals here with apparent minimal effort. A green track zig-zags down the northern face into Cwm Dwr-y-coed, probably connected with limited quarrying said to have occurred here at some point in the past. However we decide to descend – very steeply! – directly from the modern cairn in order to take another look at what looked suspiciously like a trashed cairn last time we passed by, albeit under much more stressful conditions. To be honest it still does not look like the result of quarrying, but we are nevertheless none the wiser. Picking up the green track we swing northwards and head for the Wern Frank Wood barrow and hence the car, fording the now rather more substantial Dwr-y-coed en-route.

The Mam C reckons she spots flecks of gold in the fast flowing water. I disagree. ‘Fools Gold’. But then again it might be said the whole vibe of this wondrous area is reflected by that of the classic Stone Roses track.... pulsating, undulating natural rhythms releasing positive, uplifting energy. Well worth coming back for.

To be honest.... inquisitive travellers such as The Mam C and I don’t require any excuses to revisit Y Das, north-western bastion of The Black Mountains. Yeah, the sublime views, particularly when perched upon the western escarpment edge looking across Mynydd Bychan and Cwm y Nant to Y Grib – that wondrous, narrow ridge breaching these uplands with all the certainty of a Masadian siege ramp – are surely sufficient reward to satiate even the most stilted heart? Nevertheless we have one. An excuse, that is, since previous visits here were manifestly unable to determine the location of a small Bronze Age round barrow said to reside upon the summit plateau. It really shouldn’t be that difficult.... Oh, and we also want to carry on to conclude some, er, unfinished business upon nearby Mynydd Bychan to the south.

The attractive village of Talgarth – still shadowed by the somewhat sinister Norman round keep of Bronllys, rising to the approx north-west – is the gateway to the hills around these parts. Incidentally possessing a good local bakery, too. Anyway, head east past the (main) church and, noting ‘The Lodge’ upon your left, pass through the farmyard at Ffostyll to arrive at a sharp right turn a little further on. Follow this, ignoring the right turn at Llanelieu Court, to park upon the copious grassy verge a little beyond the next right. Here, assuming the cloud base is clear of the summits, Y Das will be visible as the flat-topped, wedge-shaped height rising to the approx south-east, Mynydd Bychan and Y Grib the supporting cast right skyline (if this is not the case... I would seriously consider a postponement since the Black Mountains demand exemplary compass work in mist). We follow the signed, fenced bridleway heading for Rhiw Cwnstab, the landscape rising to pass the Wern Frank round barrow, this so overcome with the ubiquitous gorse as to defy all attempts at positive identification. The path eventually accesses a well graded track overlooking Cwm Cwnstab ascending to the bwlch between Y Das and Pen Rhos-Dirion, the bedrock old red sandstone adding a somewhat surreal twist to the colour palette utilised by Nature.... however we decide to venture off-piste and make our way up the grassy ridge itself straight to the summit. Just for the hell of it.

The sheer contrast between the lush pastoral patchwork of fields lying far below and the brutal upland grass is perhaps as extreme here, upon the summit plateau of Y Das, as in any location in Wales. We go walkabout along the northern flank and it’s the Mam C who makes the discovery first. A small mound set some considerable distance back from the escarpment edge so as to deny the visitor those exceptional downward vistas. It’s by no means a substantial monument – Coflein’s dimensions of ‘5.0m by 4.0m and 0.50m high’ appearing realistic enough – but nevertheless relatively well defined, having apparently survived the ravages of several millennia up here pretty well, all things considered. We settle down for coffee – and chocolate for the Mam C – duly noting how the topography at this point limits views to the horizons, specifically excluding the immediate locale below. Clearly this needn’t have been the case and hence would appear intentional. It also creates a fundamental disaccord between wishing to remain at the site and the urge to enjoy all this mountain top has to offer, aesthetically speaking. Eventually the latter can no longer be denied and we continue to the western escarpment edge. As mentioned at the beginning this is, in our opinion, a truly sublime viewpoint, the rollercoaster profile of Y Grib leading the eye toward Bwlch Bach a’r Grib, Castell Dinas and the soaring bulk of Mynydd Troed appearing far in excess of its relatively limited elevation.

Across the cwm to the approx south rises Mynydd Bychan, the flank of Y Das falling precipitously to Cwm Dwr-y-Coed below. From here I reckon I can appreciate the position of the ‘platform cairn’ a little to the left of the modern cairn surmounting Mynydd Bychan’s pronounced prow. Yeah, guess this should be our next port of call traversing this upland desert wilderness.

This much-disturbed elliptical ring is divided in two by a barbed wire field boundary fence, and has been damaged by a line of trees planted across it. There’s a small setting of stones on the perimeter at the southwest, outside but attached to the ring, though the stones now seem not to be as on a published plan. The ring is about 16.5m x 12.5m, and there are 18 or so stones discernable, plus others apparently firmly set but not obviously on the perimeter.

To get to the circle, driving east from Strabane, at Glenmornan turn immediately right at the village sign, go over a stone bridge and take the next left turn, with ranch fencing and a five-barred gate at left. (If you come to a sharp bend to the right, with a double gate ahead of you, then you’ve gone too far.) Go down the road, over a concrete surface, to the end, where there’s a house at a sharp right bend (with a cattle grid at the driveway entrance) and some farm buildings, where the road turns into a track. We tucked the car in here, on the right hand side.

You should be able to see the roof of a large barn-type structure on the top of the hill to the south, and this is close to the circle. Follow the track through the two gates in view ahead, after which the path turns sharply left, then sharply right, up to the top. Go past the building previously described, then through a gate to the right of it, and the circle can be seen at about 30m to the right, upon a low bank just short of the field boundary.

An early morning of appalling conditions in northern Snowdonia – hey, it happens every once in a while – is the prerequisite catalyst for immediate implementation of ‘Plan B’, such as it is; drive south to the coast to (hopefully) escape the clammy clutches of the high peaks... and then see what’s on the infamous ‘bad weather list’. This time, however, I’m well on my way across The Migneint, Spider Stacy’s ‘Repeal of the Licensing Laws’ rattling the car windows in an attempt to resuscitate morale in seemingly terminal decline, before I realise the weather is actually deteriorating further still. Castell y Gaer, the small hillfort overlooking Llwyngwril, flashes into the mind as a potential saviour of a rapidly self-imploding day. Yeah, seem to recall nearby Allt Lwyd also possessing a cairn or two, as noted from the wondrous Craig-yr-Aderyn a few years ago.

Unfortunately a little later on neither option looks a practical possibility since, upon passing the shore of a particularly ethereal Llyn Mwyngil beneath the cloud-wreathed crags of Cadair Idris, a speed boat appears a more viable mode of transport in which to traverse the B4405 today. The weather gods are fickle, however, the (relatively) low ridge of Allt Lwyd undeniably visible beneath the cloud base as, having veered north upon the A493, I approach the small village of Llanegryn. And, no, I didn’t make a votive offering at Tal-y-Llyn. Anyway, passing the school, the subsequent right fork climbs to its terminus at the farm of Cae’r Mynach; however it is possible to park – with care, naturally – upon the verge before the field gate at Tai ‘r Mynydd a little way beforehand. Here a (signed) public footpath promises access to the hinterland. Hey, why not?

The path ascends the shallow, green hillside to the approx north-east, the intervening ground between gate and the summit of Allt Lwyd packed, according to the map anyway, with hut circles and earthworks, not to mention a rather enigmatic grassy cairn Cae’r Mynach with sweeping, retrospective views of the coast. Beyond the dry stone wall enclosing the upper boundary of the field are located another small cairn at SH6097907818, the remains of a possible ‘large cairn’ set nearby between apparent sheep folds... and yet more hut circles and enclosures beyond to the approx north. Needless to say there’s more, the path continuing its line to present a fine view of the course of the Afon Dyffryn flowing through Cwm-llwyd, the optimum viewing platform a definite large round cairn at SH612081. Despite being damaged by (yet) another parasitical sheep fold upon the south-eastern arc, a substantial volume of stone remains in situ giving a good impression of how the original monument might have appeared. Well, sort of.

Next I head uphill to the south-east, bypassing at least another ‘possible’ cairn, to the summit of the ridge at SH615077. Here a very significant monument – far more substantial than I was expecting, at least in respect of retained footprint – still stands with possible traces of cist elements within its predictably gutted interior, together with at least one more-or-less certain kerb stone upon the extended circumference. According to Coflein this cairn may have incorporated two separate monuments; an earlier, large ring cairn ‘some 23m in diameter and 1m in height’ over which was superimposed a kerbed-cairn ‘approximately 15m in diameter and 1.5m high’ [see misc post]. In addition further linear dry stone features suggest tinkering during historic times. Despite residing at only some 1,286ft (392m) the cairn is a superb viewpoint, particularly southward toward the coast and to the north-east, the gaze following the grassy ridge all the way to Cadair Idris itself.... while to the east the impossibly enigmatic Craig-yr-Aderyn sits across Dyffryn Dysynni, crowned by its powerful hill fort. Yeah, the views are first class.... even if the weather is most certainly not. Bloody freezing, in fact. Although, to be fair, it is no doubt the strengthening wind velocity which is responsible for driving the hill fog away and consequently allowing me to be here at all. No, one can’t have it all, despite what those muppets on the TV adverts say.

As it happens Allt Lwyd has one final surprise for this bemused modern antiquarian today, this located across the wire fence a little to the approx south of the summit monument at SH6145807631. The monument, or rather monuments, appear to consist of a large ring cairn, according to Coflein ‘some 20m in diameter, 1.5m wide and 0.5m in height.... partially overlain to the south by a later burial cairn, approximately 15m in diameter and 1m in height.’ [again see misc post]. This seems a reasonable synopsis to me. What is far more difficult to convey, and certainly beyond the likes of myself, is the sublime vista the latter cairn affords of the fertile valley of Dyffryn Dysynni, the river flowing in lazy, serpentine loops toward the sea, as if reluctant to reach the conclusion of a journey whereby its waters must lose their identity, merging with those of the Afon Dyfi subsumed within Cardigan Bay.

So.... if it wasn’t for the appalling weather early doors I’d never have thought of coming to Allt Lwyd today. I’m sure there’s a moral in that somewhere. Hey, perhaps it’s that we all need to try and be a little more like the Afon Dysynni... attempt to live life in a more ‘serpentine’ manner? Works for me.

Foel Cwm-Sian-Lwyd, rising to 2,125ft, crowns the north-eastern apex of a considerable expanse of (deceptively) desolate, heather-clad moorland set between the main ridge of Y Berwyn to the east, across Cwm Pydew, and The Arans to the west, the latter rising beyond neighbouring summits sometimes referred to in the collective as ‘The Hirnants’.

The summit ridge bears the remains of (at least) two cairns, although only that to the north is cited as having probable prehistoric ancestry by Coflein. Although that would be more than enough to encourage a visit in itself... I disagree, my experience strongly suggesting – to me, at least – the summit cairn is also an apparently unopened burial cairn, albeit badly disturbed by the subsequent erecting of an OS trig station. Ironically, it appears the OS agree with me.

The cairn sited upon the northern prow of the mountain (SH99713172) is a large construction measuring ‘about 15m in diameter and up to 1.5m in height on its N. side’ (according to Coflein), sadly surmounted by a substantially rectangular dry stone construction which, bearing in mind the surfeit of heather, may well be a shooting butt. If so it shows, if my perception is anything to go by, signs of having been rebuilt at least once in it’s lifetime. Three is a nice, rounded number too, don’t you think? Needless to say, despite the pretty severe wind and lashing showers, I refuse to enter on principle, namely that one has to dress for the occasion, whether that be a night in a posh restaurant or an afternoon watching rainbows arc above Cadair Berwyn. And not lower one’s standards.... Whatever, it must be said that the grassy footprint is pretty impressive and this is a good place to be, the scenery illuminated with vibrant colours from cobalt blue to the most orangey of orange – and pretty much everything in between – during periodic sunbursts providing brief hiatuses from swiftly advancing storm fronts riding the prevailing wind.

The summit cairn (SH996314), by contrast, has a somewhat lower profile but nevertheless the footprint is convincingly ‘authentic’ to these eyes, bearing comparison with the not-too-distant Bronze Age cairn of Foel y Geifr. Furthermore, by my reckoning it’s pretty certain that this was not erected by walkers in this more-or-less unfrequented part of Wales. Although, to be fair, the summit of Foel Cwm-Sian-Lwyd possesses views that rival many a more popular mountain, encompassing not only the Berwyn and Aran heights, but also the Arenig, Clwydian, Cadair Idris.... and much else besides, stretching all the way to northern Snowdonia.

There is a downside, however. Despite appearances upon the map and, indeed, from the B4391, there is no ‘easy’ route to the summit of this mountain. So be warned. In fact ‘masochistic purgatory’ might be a more apt description of even the short ascent from the obvious parking area near the sharp U-bend at Pont Cwm Pydew. Trackless heather is like that. But there are compensations, shall we say?

This one’s for aficionados everywhere of those Bronze Age sites with not an awful lot tangible remaining, yet nonetheless worth the (not inconsiderable) effort reaching, if only to enjoy some sublime incidental views en-route, to attempt to understand the landscape context that I believe is at least as important as the archaeology itself.

Anyway, a convenient lay-by upon a prominent corner of the A498 overlooking the farm of Hafod Rhisgl – some way south of the official tourist viewpoint/car park – provides a good starting point for a rather steep, wooded ascent upon a (signposted) public footpath, tantalising vistas up and down the valley materialising through autumnal foliage exploding in a last intemperate display of colour before winter’s icy grip takes hold, a seemingly infinite smorgasbord of red, yellow, brown... orange. Eventually the angle eases and, beyond a substantial, gated, dry stone wall, the nature of the landscape abruptly changes to that of the brutal uplands, almost monochroic in comparison. The cairn is not easily spotted, laying some way before a stile accessing the main north-south path traversing these hills from Moel Siabod to Y Cnicht. Incidentally, after checking out the monument, I head south toward the wondrous rock walls of Moel Meirch and Llyn Edno, the relatively untrodden heartland of the Moelwyns...

Upon arrival it is clear that, sadly, the cairn is badly denuded, the track through the bwlch bisecting the monument with an imperious ‘Romanic’ contempt that would beggar belief.... if it wasn’t all too common place. Nevertheless a substantial stone still remains in situ upon the southern arc, the ‘side on’ positioning strongly suggestive of the surviving flank of a former cist, and thus Bronze Age origin. Coflein agrees, citing ‘Caernarvonshire Parish Files’ from 1953. Furthermore, the cairn is sited so as to cunningly – or pedantically, perhaps – just negate one of the aforementioned glorious views, this sweeping down to Llyn Gwynant, lying resplendent within Nant Gwynant to the approx south-west. Visitors to more than a few Welsh upland cairns may well agree that such precise placement is not an unusual occurrence, possibly indicative of the type?

As it is... the outlook from the cairn is dominated by the overwhelming profile of the Snowdon Massif rising to the approx west across the valley, the mountainside rising past Clogwyn Pwll Budr toward Y Cribiau (and hence the ‘mother hill’ Moel Siabod) to the north and Cerrig Cochion to the south. Needless to say Yr Wyddfa and its acolytes take centre stage. Which was perhaps the whole point? Travellers undertaking the crossing from Gwynant to Lledr via this natural breech in the mountains perhaps pausing here to do/say whatever was required to placate, with the intermediatory assistance of those interned within the stone pile, the upland gods. Well, it’s a thought...

It’s been a long time coming has this, there’s so many sites to see and frankly I just don’t get as many chances to get out like this as I once did. I can remember getting out stone hunting at least three times a week, no weather too dismal, any time of day or night, no where too far, always throwing caution to the wind. Not any more. So, when everything comes together, sunshine, money and free time in the right place, it is exceedingly gratifying.

I parked by the 12th century church of St Celynnin, put me boots on, slung my camera over my shoulder left my window wound down and walked off across the field to the church.Oops.
The information board at the Lords house declares it as one of Conwy’s best kept secrets, I don’t know about it being very secret but it is in a very lovely place, it brings out a feeling of reverence in me that I like, it does not come upon me often, indifference and disappointment are my constant bed fellows. Getting out among the hills and ancient structures are a cure, and I swallow the medicine happily.

From the church a short ten minute walk north east brings one to the feet of the rocky island, there is a path for those who follow such things, I as ever made my own way there. From below the outcrop to the right I can make out a low wall with a gap in it, sheep does as she was bidden and goes the way I pointed. Then I follow her up into the settlement.
Determining the age of the low wall, and indeed all of the walling here is extremely difficult, Stewart Ainsworth from time team could no doubt make more sense out of it all than I could. So I just make my way up to the top of the rocks, the highest point is a small walled enclosure of undetermined date about twenty yards across. A small linear outcrop has a basin carved into one end, and the outcrop leads past a large boulder and down into the lower level. I just cant make out what is ancient and what is natural or what is modern so I give up, I’ll take lots of pictures and folk can make up there own mind, should they posses one.
For now I am content to simply park my behind down on the high boulder at the top, legs swinging childishly over the edge. It is a truly wondrous view, as good as it gets on this little island. I try to make out where the burial chamber Hendre Waolod is, down in the fields across the river, behind me Tal y Fan rears it’s 2001 foot high peak, but north west is my next target for the day, I could of coarse spend the whole day here, quite happily. But then I’d be disappointed in not seeing the other places. So I leave, on the way down I stumble a touch and nearly fall head first down the rocky slope, is it Cerrig Y Ddinas having a go for not staying longer, now that’s anthropomorphising.

Several hours later I return to the car, and find all is well, nothing of report here, you don’t get that down in the valleys.

It might be argued that the intentions of human beings erecting a cairn upon a mountain plateau with such a chaotic topography as Mynydd Graig Goch – a brutal landscape suggesting Mother Nature took a permanent hiatus mid-way through the act of creation, like the child walking away from an upturned box of lego – were always going to be infused with meaning of extreme profundity, incorporating sufficient incendivity to inflame the group consciousness and so define who they were as a people, how they viewed and related to their surroundings on the most fundamental level. Or else why undertake such a seemingly pointless, thankless task? A rhetorical question, of course. But one that plants that seed of curiosity in my brain.

At barely 2,000 ft Mynydd Graig Goch is not a substantial mountain, even when viewed within the context of the moderate summits of the sublime Nantlle Ridge, of which it is the south-western outlier. However, like the short man attempting to compensate for lack of vertical stature with abnormally powerful upper body strength and inflated aggression, it sure makes every one of those feet above ordnance datum count with a surfeit of naked rock, most impressively to the north where a powerful cliff-line towers above Llyn Cwm Dulyn. A reservoir since the 1880’s, this glacial lake is apparently still home to the enigmatic arctic char. Unfortunately none of these wondrous fish break the not quite placid surface of the llyn as I begin what is a straightforward, albeit very steep ascent from water’s edge. A bit too steep when wearing thermal underwear to (theoretically, anyway) cope with the anticipated inclement summit conditions. But there you are.

The summit crags, the Graig Goch, are an awful long time a’coming, eventually materialising beneath a leaden sky which thankfully appears content to interact with this mountain top from a distance, finally dispensing a light drizzle which has threatened all morning. Outcrops of shattered rock bar further progress like the merlons and embrasures forming the parapet of the defences of a giant’s castle.... albeit a very badly built one, soon breached. A massive dry stone cross-wall is a much more difficult barrier to circumvent since I can not locate the break which must surely exist? And there, finally, sits the cairn a’top a section of lower crags a little below to the approx south-east. Once again the actual highest point was not considered appropriate. To be honest the monument is hard to make out initially, a massive cairn of stones set upon a massive natural base of rock, the latter slowly, inexorably disintegrating, engaged in a battle with the elements it can not win. A cairn upon a cairn, just about the optimum camouflage. Surely this was not designed to impress?

As I make my final approach that leaden sky – inevitably – decides to come and say ‘hello’, my world suddenly contracting to a surreal, claustrophobic, apparent dream state of ethereal, swirling shapes lacking any definition, apparitions devoid of any coherent form and without any real notion of substance... colour perhaps fifty shades of muted grey. Although rational thought reassures me that, having taken a compass bearing for just such an eventuality, this is really no big deal.... primitive responses nevertheless surface from deep within and battle for supremacy. Those far reaching vistas toward the Lleyn Peninsular I was hoping to enjoy suddenly curtailed as if a giant, unseen hand had placed a cover over my bird cage. Yeah, the conditions deteriorate further and it is tempting to accede to the wishes of the primeval psyche which has been released and run for home. But I will not. The cairn is deceptively massive, a serious construction for such a brutal spot, yet seems – to me – to have been placed not to assert ownership of this landscape, to effect some sort of subjection of Nature, but rather to function as an integral part of this mountain top, to work in harmony with it? Perhaps the all enveloping mantle of hill fog has some bearing on this view? Perhaps that was why these monuments were placed at such locations?

Two hours pass before the cloud is just as suddenly whisked away and I am finally able to revel in the panoramas I came to see. Another large Bronze Age cairn crowns Garnedd Goch rising across Bwlch Cwmdulyn to the north-east, yet another upon Craig Cwm-Silyn, summit peak of The Nantlle Ridge. The wondrous Moel Hebog, possessing a little Bronze Age cemetery of its own, sits beyond Cwm Pennant to the east. Then there’s the aforementioned Lleyn, chock-a-block with hillforts, portal tombs, cairns; prehistoric treasures such as Tre’r Ceiri and Garn Boduan. Hey, the thought occurs that perhaps the point of this cairn, as with the massive Carn Ban overlooking Kilmartin far to the north, for that matter.... as well as numerous others... was to act as a place to observe, not to be seen?

Finally I must leave this desolate, yet nevertheless beguiling spot to ensure I get back down before dark, the former chill seeping into my very being as a result of the waiting, the riding out of the storm, now superceded by the warm glow of well... to be honest I don’t really comprehend the source. Perhaps it emanates from a recognition, incoherent and blurred at the edges, that I am actually a part of this landscape, a participant in this ongoing relationship humankind has with these brutal, inhospitable high places, however minimal my role. Like playing ‘the third sheep’ in a school nativity play. Whatever, it feels good to be here. Maybe it always has, and that’s why we continue to come? To connect with some facet of ourselves buried so deeply within the subconscious that it can only be teased to the surface when experiencing the sensory overload inherent in pilgrimages to primeval places such as Mynydd Graig Goch.