The stone circle is quite easy to find, if you start at this gate (N51 52 46.5 W9 31 30.2) and follow the farm lane. After about 450m there is another gate with a some trees and a stone wall on the left. The circle is located on low ground behind that wall.
Dromatouk anomalous stone group is visible about 200m to the north after you pass the gate.
Halfway to the stone circle you pass Dromatouk standing stones on a small hillock on your right.
Visited June 2014
I first came to Dartmoor, these enigmatic lofty plateaux of granite and blanket peat bog, during 2002. That it’s taken me – someone as irrevocably drawn to the high places as the compass needle is to the north – a dozen years to visit the summit of these wondrous uplands is no admission of any lack of aesthetic appeal. Sure, there are other areas of these Isles that offer more dramatic, more awe-inspiring natural scenery. However I reckon nowhere else can match that consistently sublime synthesis of monument and landscape, a perfect juxtaposition which renders it impossible to contemplate one without the other. That, for me, is the essence of Dartmoor.... the past and present seemingly concurring to suggest a notion of timelessness. And there is simply so much to see.
The appeal of Yes Tor and its lofty neighbour High Willhays is, at first sight anyway, somewhat less idiosyncratic of the area, the map depicting a brace of cairns sited in a manner reminiscent of those gracing numerous South Walian peaks rising beyond the Bristol Channel. Typical Bronze Age upland, in other words. I arrive at the Meldon Reservoir ‘picnic area’ around 9.00 to conclude a four hour drive from Essex, the steadily improving cloudbase, having prompted (somewhat reluctant) thoughts of an ascent, now offering no credible get out clause that my subconscious will later accept. Damn it to blazes! Speaking of which, phonetically at least, the track heads across a literally much more concrete dam before veering left to provide a reasonably-graded, looping route to the summit of Longstone Hill ...or right to skirt the eastern shore of the reservoir. I choose the latter, a short while later ascending very steeply to the south-east. Yeah, in retrospect the former choice is probably preferable.
Longstone Hill is home to several Bronze Age cairns, but since these are not depicted upon my map – and I’ve undertaken no research due to the spontaneous nature of the climb – I’m spared the decision to defer a visit to the descent. Yes Tor rises across Okehampton Common, a row of marker poles demarcating the ‘Danger Area’ of the Okehampton army firing range. How southern England’s highest peaks can remain subject to this I really do not know, although no doubt the commanding officer could provide a coherent reason, if prompted. Anyway, as instructed by the notices, I double-check the high ground to my left (north) and spy no flags or such-like, this happy outcome suggesting I’m not in imminent danger of being blown to smithereens. Besides, the local ponies, eyeing me with an apparent combination of varying degrees of benign acceptance through familiarity, pity and possibly sheer toughness bred by having their home routinely shelled, don’t seem in a hurry to vacate the area. Suitably reassured, the onward route to the summit of Yes Tor is straight forward, if deceptively steep, the latter causing me to labour considerably as my dodgy upper torso muscles tighten under the weight of the rucksack. Nevertheless I eventually arrive at some typically Dartmoor-esque rocky outcrops a little below, and to the approx west, of the summit, the appearance of primeval, naked rock a welcome development following the admittedly somewhat featureless nature of the lower slopes. However it is the discovery of further rock fashioned into a massive pile that renders the effort of dragging myself up here much more than worthwhile.
Not surprisingly – given its location – the cairn has been badly treated over the course of time, Pastscape citing it as ‘gutted’. To paraphrase Rowan Atkinson (in that gorilla sketch with the sadly missed Mel Smith) I’d reckon it’s more likely to be absolutely bloody livid, a significant inner area having been ‘excavated’ to create a central crater. As a result estimations of height do not really add any value. Suffice to say it is not that tall. However, with a diameter in the region of 82 – 88ft, this is nevertheless one seriously substantial upland cairn indeed, what’s more with indications of a possible former cist still in situ. Set quite a way below the summit of the mountain the monument occupies what I would now regard as a classic Bronze Age position, the aspect to the north and west, courtesy of Yes Tor’s location at the extreme north-western apex of the moor, as open and far reaching as a Citizen Cairn’d could wish for. To the south the summit ridge draws the gaze to High Willhays, at 2,039ft the sentinel point (topographically speaking) of Dartmoor and the highest ground to be found in England south of The Black Mountains’ wondrous Black Hill. Apparently devoid of monuments, closer investigation will reveal this to be (quite probably) very far from the truth.
Despite being subjected to a not insignificant, freezing wind – a reminder, as if one was required, never to take Dartmoor at face value – some three hours fly by before I (can) see fit to finally leave the cairn and arrive at the summit. Sure, I’d be enough to cause a sergeant major to fling himself from the crags in sheer frustration. Amen to that. An OS trig pillar crowns the highest crags proffering excellent views into the wild interior of Dartmoor, a myriad magnificent stone circles and enigmatic stone rows merging with the heather clad contours at this distance. The 2,031ft summit itself, however, is curiously disappointing thanks to stark reminders of the military..... an artillery observation post, towering antennae, a bulldozed track allowing access to a lumbering 4x4 buggy contraption which rumbles past below me. Not ideal, but there you are. The map cites an additional Bronze Age cairn upon the western crest. Sure enough there is a stone pile here, but the apparent lack of structure does not overly convince me. To be fair the lower monument is more than enough.
As mentioned previously High Willhays beckons to the south, albeit with, at this distance anyway, a somewhat dubious allure more suggestive of a ‘professional’ rather than archetypal natural beauty, the former often associated with military establishments, of course. Since I also want to check out the cairn upon Fordsland Ledge before heading back, south it is.
During the planing of my day trip to Dingle Peninsula, I stumbled upon the name Caherdorgan North ring fort. After I found the exact location, I realized with some surprise, that I have passed this great site for at least two times, without even knowing it. This reconfirmed me, that carefully planning is essential for my trips to Ireland ;-).
The ring fort consists of five well preserved huts and at least one souterrain. A standing stone is located in a private garden around 30m to the west.
As it lies directly on the road to/from Kilmalkedar, there no excuse to not visiting this tremendous site, if you are in this area.
Visited June 2014
I think this is the only portal tomb in County Kerry, so this alone justifies a visit. It lies in a field close to a minor road so parking is a bit tricky, I used a driveway of a nearby house.
At my time of visit, two very pushy horses were on the field of the tomb, so I had always one eye on the horses, while the other tries to takes a closer look. The capstone is really impressive with some indentations. With the two tilted portal stones it reminds me a lot of Arderawinny tomb in County Cork.
Visited June 2014
On the western slope of Mount Brandon lies this good restored ring fort, a pair of huts are preserved in the interior. The surrounding cashel walls are around 1.5m high and 2-3m thick.
Opposite of the entrance is an access into the outer wall, in the chamber behind you can even stand upright.
The views over Dingle Peninsula are phantastic!
A hidden gem of the Slea Head Drive, as it is not signed from the main road, but worth the effort of finding it.
Visited June 2014
Great panel with wonderful decorations, which lies around 100m east of the Staigue river, close to Staigue bridge. I had luck with the lighting conditions, so the motifs are clearly visible on most of my pictures.
Park at Staigue bridge, walk over the bridge and after 50m there is a gate to your right. Cross the field in a southeast direction to a subsequent path.
Watch for a beaten track that leaves this path on the left, immediately after you leave the field. After about 50m on this track you should see the panel, the main part of the decorations are on the opposite end of the panel.
Visited June 2014
Although I drove the Ring of Kerry a few times, I never stopped to examine this site, as there was no entry on TMA. This time my wife convinced me, that this must be a megalithic site, so we pulled over.
According to Megalithic Survey, it is wholly natural in origin, though local tradition regards the site as a burial monument (see entry for SMR KE106-119---- at the National Monument Service Website.
It consist of a massive “boulder”, which rests on four supporting stones.
Worth a short break, as it just lies a few metres from the road.
Visited June 2014
It’s strange where you end up sometimes. We just happened to be up near here collecting a moped from nearby Thetford and decided to pop over to take a look. It was of particular interest to me as living near Cissbury, another flint mining site, it would give an opportunity to actually go down inside a mine, which you can’t do at Cissbury as they’re all filled in. The visitor centre is quite interesting, but you can’t help feeling it’s primary function is to enthuse parties of young school children, not a bad thing, but the real draw is the mine itself.
Living in a safety-conscious and litigious age you have to wear a hard hat, descend the ladder one at a time and listen to the man carefully, though he is very friendly and informative. Unfortunately once you’ve descended the ladder and grown accustomed to the dark you realise that that’s as far as you can go! All the galleries are barred after a few feet, but lit just so you get a tantalising idea of what might lie beyond. Having seen Neil Oliver on TV scrambling around on all fours down here, I imagined that we’d all be allowed to do that. Damn.
The overriding feeling is one of slight claustrophobia and it must have been quite an arduous task bashing pieces of prime flint out of chalk with nothing more than a deer antler and a weak light to guide you, but the lure of those massive layers of shiny black stone was very strong. The other thing that strikes you is how did these prehistoric miners know that this stuff was down here? I can sort of understand it at Cissbury as nearby chalk cliffs east of Brighton have seams of flint running through them, so it would stand to reason that if you dug down through chalk hills you might find unspoilt layers of flint. At Grime’s Graves it seems to be a completely different proposition. It’s mainly flat, forested and the only clue might be the chalk just beneath the turf. Because Cissbury, Harrow Hill, etc. predate Grime’s Graves I wonder if that mining knowledge was passed on to people living in East Anglia. Maybe there were nomadic miners roaming the country searching for tell-tale signs of the treasures beneath their feet?
Later when we arrive at the home of the guy selling the moped, covered in chalk, we explain how we’ve just been down Grimes Graves. He tells us that as a kid he and his friends used to descend the shafts down rope ladders with torches and you could crawl around large areas of the subterranean galleries and ascend from different mine shafts! We should have come here 40 years earlier, or maybe 4000.
25/06/2014 – For me Glen Banchor has it all. Big hills, little hills, gentle walks up the glen or just plock yourself down by the river and watch the world go by. Easy access from Newtonmore. A road leads from the village to a car parking spot in the glen. It’s a lovely quiet stroll along the side of river, passing by hut circles and deserted townships to reach this cairn at the west of the glen. The cairn is grassed over and not much to look at but it’s in a great location. Clear line of sight down the River Calder to the east and also Strath an Eilich to the South. Well worth a visit just for the peace and quiet of the place.
I was working away in town in the sunshine, fairly bored by the struggle of the daily grind. On the spur of the moment I decided to head for the hills. Recently, on a spin around Kilbride rifle range, I’d noticed a second track up the western side of Seahan that I’d never noticed before. It had been covered under the dense pine plantation, but this had been cut about 2 years ago, and this second track was more direct and made the tombs more accessible.
As I drove along the N81 Tallaght by-pass I could see the sun shining on my destination from the road, directly south from the M50 junction at Balrothery. Further on, at ‘New’ Bancroft, the skeletons of unfinished apartment blocks taunt the traveller with their dreams of rich celtic tiger days gone by. Left at Old Bawn Road, right at Bohernabreena Road (past the avenue I live on) and on up to the Ballinascorney Gap – this is rural Dublin, and a further left turn at the top of the gap up towards the rifle range and in minutes you could believe that the city doesn’t exist, blocked from view by the ridge of Slievebawnogue, Ballymorefinn, Seahan itself and Corrig.
The track is situated just below the crest of the road as the view opens out across Kilbride rifle range towards Seefin. It goes directly east up the hill for about 500 metres, then veers to the right and skirts along the edge of the range, outside the tree-line and up, steeper here, until it reaches the moorland above the trees, and then continues across to the peak and the tombs. Seefin and Seefingan cairns have the same shape and profile from this track and you do get a sense that you are approaching the heavens, being lifted up and out, above the mundane, and into the realm of the gods.
Utterly unfit for this type of trek that I am, I struggled on the climb, yet I couldn’t but be awed by the stunning views – the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. North of Seefin passage tomb there is a ravine, a deep gouge high up on the spur between it and Seefingan, hard to believe that it’s not even a 10 minute drive from my house. Lumps of quartz litter the track and you must traverse the inside edge of the rifle range. Up here you are in a special area of conservation, but try tell that to the scramblers and mountain bikers, but maybe they have the sought for licences.
Then it’s the last bit of the trek, up the path to the tombs. It’s late now, and only an hour ago I was in the centre of Dublin city and as I reach the peak I get a dose of the jitters, the car left down on the road, predators real and imagined roaming these parts looking for an easy touch. I’ve done this hundreds of times before and nothing has ever happened, so far.
From here, on a good clear day, you can see the Cooleys and the Mournes and to their west the hills of South Armagh – of course Howth and Lambay are prominent here. The whole of the bay is mostly visible, Two Rock, Three Rock, Little Sugar Loaf, Great Sugar Loaf, over to Kippure, Seefingan, Seefin, Sorrel Hill and deeper into the Wicklows, down to the reservoir and over to the Kilteel ridge, Slievethoul and finally back down towards Knockannavinidee and Tallaght Hill and Ballymorefinn, and even closer in across to Piperstown and Montpellier. The city is there too all across the Dublin plain.
And then there’s the tombs, 2 or 3 passage graves and an un-open cairn. The main tomb is wrecked, a small chamber still covered by a roofstone, scant evidence of a passage and some kerbstones on its southern flank. West of it is the cairn, messed about with on its western side, all loose stones long since robbed or embedded in the rising turf. Slightly north-west of the passage tomb is a small arrangement of stones that was noticed by Tom Fourwinds a few years back, a diminutive passage grave rather like one of the satellite tombs at Knowth. Then south of the larger tombs, another sad collection of stones that mark the wreckage of another satellite tomb.
And all the while I’m here, my attention is pulled continually towards the two tombs on Seefingan and Seefin, like big brothers (or sisters) watching over Seahan and I wonder, with so much else on the list, will I ever return here. You can’t help but notice the erosion that this windswept location suffers – that, and what with the use and abuse of the area by humanity, the place has a battered look. But still it is achingly beautiful, a cemetery of the ancestors, an outpost of peace and solitude with it own views back down to the madness.
24/06/2014 – After a nice visit to the dun on Creag Odhar we headed west to Tulach hill about one mile away to have a look at the dun there. The dun is situated on a small knoll near the summit of the hill. Rock-cut ditch on three of the sides. Fourth side is very steep sloped. Great entrance causeway on the SE side. Again like Creag Odhar, the view is very good from here. Visits to both these two duns make for a nice day out.
24/06/2014 – There is a good path (marked on the OS map) from the A9 north of Creag Odhar to get easy access to the hill. We parked in a layby on the A9 just past the where the path meets the road (there are laybys both ways near here). Nice climb through open woodland and then a short stroll east to Creag Ohar. The Dun is oval in shape with stones showing here and there in the overgrown wall. The location and view down the River Garry is really nice and the big hills like Beinn a’ghlo etc show well. Worth a visit as it’s a nice walk with plenty of other sites in the area as well.
About 400 metres North of the town of Donard is Hell Kettle Bridge, fording Brown’s Beck Brook. Another 100 metres north of that is Doll’s Brook, a stream that rises on the southern spine of Church mountain. Slightly north of this, and almost beside the road, is this cup-marked stone. It lies at the southern edge of 2 almost conjoined raths. The southern rath is in better condition but is very overgrown. The defensive ditches of this rath are very visible on its northern side – defences on the southern side where the stone is are the steepness of of the hillock that the rath is built upon.
A very charming place on mid-summer’s day, the late evening sunshine brought out the 20 or so cup-marks perfectly. The grass hadn’t been cut in the meadow and the bubbling of Doll’s brook below added to the atmosphere. The cairn on top of Church mountain is visible from the bridge over the brook.
23/06/2014 – This cairn is in the grounds of Newtonmore’s Highland Folk Museum. It’s not the most exciting to look at to be honest. Grassy mound with a few stones dotted about and a depression on top where a kiln has been built into it. Reading Canmore (link below) the cairn does sound like it could have been a good one back in the day. Still the museum is well worth looking round and it’s free.
23/06/2014 – This hillfort had been high on my to visit list for a while now. Finally got a chance to visit and it really is as good as I had hoped it would be. We took the same route as broch the badger and after a lovely walk up the hill on a sunny day we got to the fort. Fantastic walls and a great rugged interior. We sat and had our sandwiches on the wall, just gazing at the landscape below. If you like duns this is a must visit.
From Gamelands stone circle Sunbiggin cairn is, carry on up the lane up Knott hill, but turn and look down upon the circle before you reach the trig point or it will be too below to see. From the trig point go south east and with as much grace and finesse as possible get over the dry stone wall.
However, north east of the trig point is Castle Folds Romano British settlement, which I didn’t get to because of time constraints but from pictures ive seen it reminds me of Castle Wark in Derbyshire.
The cairn will come into view soon, it’s really very visible, at least from the direction I came and as my daughter says, there’s only One Direction. (Ghaaa!)
I do not think this is a ring cairn, true, i’m an amateur, but it is almost definitely a round cairn.
A good one too, as tall as I am and still half it’s original height. The obligatory scoop has been taken from it, a bloody big scoop too, and the also obligatory stick, nay, post, arises from the cairns inner, like a frozen arm waving the cairns whereabouts. It is of course made of limestone rubble, as is the whole of Great Asby Scar. Scar is an unfortunate term for such geological occurrences, the exposed limestone paving along with the very odd tree, and the very agreeable view is as mesmerising a place as the cairn or even the stone circle.
From Gamelands this cairn is very nearly 1 mile away, and it is 1495 meters or 878.97 smoots. Its also in line with the stone circle and the summer solstice sun rise, probably. But the circle cant be seen from the cairn, maybe at its original height it could be. But it might not have to be in direct line, just in the general vicinity of the sunrise might have be enough for the cairns owner.
Either way this is an astonishing place and most suitable to sitting silently pondering.
I’m in love with this stone. It’s hard to be near it and not drop by to see how it’s doing. Its beauty never ceases to amaze me. I like it when the basins have water in them, and I like it when they’re empty. It is a piece of sculpted perfection. The meadow that it lies in is gorgeous too, sumptuous and pleasing with its wild grassiness in summer. The last few times I’ve been here I’ve been accompanied by LM, and once by Paulie G. Both are only half interested.
The flat-topped stone seems to have grown out of the ground to the east, and then drops off by about a foot on the western side. It’s oriented on its longer axis roughly north-south. The four largest basins are concentrated in the southern end – the other two are towards the north-western end, one of which breaks the side of the stone, the other being the smallest and almost like an afterthought.
I get the sense that I’m possibly the only person in the country that comes here, dragging my half interested companions along to satisfy my selfish needs. I’d unearth this stone and bring it home if I could. Almost.
From Orton head east towards Raisebeck, go through a crossroad junction and take your second left. Park on this lane/footpath, there is room. The stone circle is up the path on your right, look for a kissing gate type wotsit.
Sounds easy enough, but I couldn’t find it without an OS map once.
Today was the Summer solstice, en route by 2.30 am, with three kids and two dogs, not ideal. But I’m going into hospital for spinal surgery tomorrow so i’ll be blown if i’m staying in. Eric and Luke and the two dogs come over to the stones with me, but wet feet and hearing the news that i’m staying here til the sun comes up sent them back to the car for more nap time.
There’s just me and the stones, and a long wait til the sun comes up. But to be honest Gamelands isn’t really a good place for the summer solstice, the large bulk of Great Asby Scar gets in the way, delaying the magical moment by up to an hour ?
But on the hill, just where it looks like the sun is going rise is a cairn, Sunbiggin cairn, cant be a coincidence surely, and to have the cairn named Sun anything is a bit, you know, provocative.
But the light here pre-sunrise is just great, the sky is a deep blue to the west, and the golden glow of dawn, shimmers among the sparse clouds. Far to the south light creeps down the Howgill fells
They didn’t look after this stone circle though did they. All the stones are down or gone, but their size and their bright pink colour makes up for this more than adequately. I cant help wonder about the stones closest to the wall, obviously the wall wasn’t built out of broken circle stones or these would have gone first. Why didn’t the wall builder incorporate them into the wall ?
What a thought provoking place.
But the sun is taking too long to get anywhere so I decide to go up hill, and photograph the circle as it gets bathed in the first light of summer. Worked well too, plus the limestone paving and the one tree, are a great bonus to the circle below.
Over I go now to Sunbiggin cairn, solstice marker ? we’ll see.
Well, it’s been a long day, we’ve come quite far to see this, driven through some awesome scenery and seen many wonders on the way, but ive saved the biggest wonder til last.
I came here some years ago, early in the morning, and the place just took me over, completely. The shape of the land, the curves of the cliffs of the Storr, the light, the Golden eagle carrying away a struggling rabbit, and the massive God like Old man.
But I only walked round half of it and sat for ten minutes before it was time to go, so I decided there and then that I would come back and have a fuller look round as soon as circumstances allowed.
A brief window of allowance presented itself and off we shot, like a startled rabbit.
We arrived in good humour, until they saw where I intended to take them, “up there” they cried in unison.
“Yup, come on” I said jovially
They jumped out of the car and followed me up. I wish it had happened that way but, what you gonna do.
The forestry bit that I’d walked through last time had been cut down, so the first half of the ascent was through a desolate wasteland, which was a shame because someone had erected some strange natural sculptures among the trees. All gone now, but the Old man is still up there, and he still draws me on.
Then it’s out of the felled bit, through a stile and onto the sheep sheared undulating roller coaster hills below the Storr, but still the Old man remains out of sight.
The view opening out below and around us is, magical, it’s difficult in the extreme to adequately describe the scenery here in just a few well chosen words, but magical is my best shot, it works on me so well, I may as well be under a spell. Over four hundred and fifty miles in a day says what?
I can see the old man, but it’s perfectly camouflaged against the cliffs behind it, I wonder where it’s gone, am I in the right place? we could see it from down the road, why cant I see it, it’s not like you can lose it.
We keep going, it must be there, and as we change direction on the hillside it comes out of hiding, I ask the kids if they could see it, they couldn’t either. Were getting closer now, heading as straight as we can, for the base of the Dude, the kids and I soon disagree on the easiest way up, I follow the path and they straight line it the way up. When they get out of view I begin to worry, but Eric soon decides his dad knew best and were soon reunited, but Luke doesn’t reappear until right at the very top, he looks very out of his comfort zone, don’t let kids wander off, giants wander these hills and they wouldn’t even notice one underfoot.
Standing staring around together under the Old man I ask them if it was worth the climb, I think the answer was in the affirmative but only just, we soon take a seat and look about, there will be no sunset for us, that’s happening on the other side of the ridge, but the distant mountains fill the whole horizon, The Cuilins far right, and I’ve no idea what all the others are, they stretch far away to the north, and half of them have water between us, I’ve no idea, but it looked good. How can anyone bare to live down south with this here, even Glasgow’s too far south.
But soon the kids will be wanting to go, so, I tell them to stay where they are and I’ll be back in a moment, I want to go all the way round the base. Firstly, the ground isn’t even, it slants down towards the sea, secondly it’s a long way down in places, and whilst it may not be fatal, the fall would be fantastically painful, almost as painful as Sciatica. Two points that make for a scary circumambulation (take that dictionary), but my boots are sticking to the rock very well and soon I’m out of danger, i’m now facing the cliffs of the Storr, and they are forbidding, the tall thin spire next to the Old man is long on its other axis, but from here it brings me out in anxious leg shakes just to look at it.
The place where the big Dude is attached to the ground, looks like, it’s been welded into place, the rock is obviously of a volcanic sort, and that’s as far as I go in the field of Geology. But those giants, what a bunch, eh?
I’ve returned to the spot where I left some children, i’m sure that really happened, no it definitely happened, I really did tell my son and his mate to wait here, so where the Samsons jack are they.
I catch up with them shortly and deliver the deserved speech about safety in the hills, then we run all the way back to the car, dead safe.
It’s been a while since I was last here, lost photos from the previous trip prompted me to return when next I could, well I can and here I am.
First time it was early morning with my old dog Arnie, we got soaked, though it never rained.
This time it’s early evening with my son Eric and his best mate Luke whom we’ve kidnapped for a few days. Rather than come over to the stones with me they’ve opted to dare each other further and further into the what must have been a pretty cold loch, if it is a loch at all.
I make my way over to the stones trying to pick a good crossing place over the stream that runs into the loch with no name. Last time I was wearing wellies and had to jump it with a Jack Russell in my arms, we didn’t make it. This time, the stream was a lot lower and I could just walk over.
The stones were just as I remembered them, but the surroundings if anything were more sublime, the high mountains have more higher mountains peeking over beyond them, I’m sure the position was precisely chosen for this reason. It is a fabulous place, well, as fabulous as Britain gets, the colour of the sky, the grass and the reflections on the loch. The orange colour on one of the stones is particularly fetching. I’d really like to see the one fallen stone re-erected, just so it would be perfect, if it was a four poster, but who knows, its certainly not a stone row.
But it is an epic place, the bare rocky mountains will fill you with dread as you drive round Loch Slapin, they look so tall when they arise right out of sea level. Epic place.
Poor old Broomfields portal tomb – ruined, neglected, overgrown and overlooked. The capstone has fallen and leans over the chamber, on top of one of the portals. The other portal is still upright and there’s a backstone standing, but you’d never tell in the summer as the whole thing is more or less hidden under the vegetation. It’s incorporated in a boundary fence down a well laid farm track, but access is better from the field to the west where you can at least appreciate the quite massive capstone. If you’re looking for atmosphere however, you probably won’t get it here – there’s so very little to be seen amidst the tangle of vegetation and now there’s even trees growing between the stones. Some remedial work is desperately needed at this sad site. I’d be up for it if given permission.
On a misty day, myself and LM ventured up Tallaght Hill to Ballymana and this anomalous site. Said by some to be a stone circle, there is indeed a circle of stones, but they surround a messy oval mound that’s covered in gorse and hard to make out. A fine misty rain was falling and visibility was poor and we were unable to stick around.
The stones that surround the ‘cairn’ are varied in size, shape and type. I tried in vain to take a shot that shows them all. The ‘cairn’ itself is all rubble and vegetation and could be modern field clearance, though why so as this is sheep-farming land and not quality pasture, with many boggy, turlough-type ponds. I reckon that this site bears further exploration, maybe soon and quite likely as it’s only up the road.
The mound at Barnane is very hard to access. It is within a private horse training complex.
I managed to get in on the 21st June 2014 to watch the sun setting from the mound. I had hoped that the sun would set within the Gap of Barnane or “The Devils Bit” that evening. Unfortunately as per the photo it does not appear to set within the gap.
The mound is overgrown with scrub and furze. It is also known as a “Fairy mound”. Another megalithic tomb / boulder burial is 70m away to the east. Originally the mound is thought to have been 20m in diameter. A large boulder in the north-west of the mound is thought to indicate that a megalithic tomb is located within it. It is thought to be similar in morphology as the megalithic tombs at Ardcroney.
Two standing stones, very similar in height and profile, stand about 400 metres from each other. The first, nearest to the road, is a charmer, in a small fenced in, sloping meadow with pathways through the wildflowers and grasses. It’s about 1.3 metres tall and square in profile, tapering towards the top. The second, slightly taller and more rectangular than square, is in a large pasture field, with views, like its neighbour, mainly to the east towards Dowery Hill and further across to Seefin and Seefingan. A curious pair, though not a stone pair as they are not inter-visible.
Dafydd had been asking me for some time if I could one day take him to watch the sun go down. Well, the summer solstice was as good a day as any! Although feeling tired (we had been at the beach all day – Dafydd was delighted to have found a fossil amongst the rocks and a sherd of pottery during an ‘archaeological dig’ he undertook in a sand dune) we headed for Garth Hill.
Upon arriving at the small parking area we had to squeeze in as four cars were already parked up. We headed up the hill, taking the path through the high ferns, and soon arrived at the largest barrow with the trig on top. There were two groups of people sat upon the barrow and we quickly joined them. Everyone seemed happy and made up feel welcome.
There was a large cloud bank high in the sky but luckily the horizon itself was cloudless. The sun shone bright and clear. The sky starting to turn to orange as the sun sank deeper over the skyline. Dafydd was captivated as I explained how the sun rose from the east at different points throughout the year before setting again in the west. From this wonderful vantage point I also pointed out places of interest that could be seen. Cardiff, Flat Holm, Steep Holm, the English coastline – you can see for miles from up here.
It was almost like a party atmosphere as we watched the sun slowly disappear. Everyone had a smile on their face and there was lots of happy chatter. It is quite amazing how such a simple thing as watching the sun rise/set can bring so much happiness to people.
I guess it has always been this way?
The sun now gone, the sky darkening, it was time to head home.
‘Can you take me to watch the sunrise one day?’ asked Dafydd.
‘Of course’ I replied ‘It would be a pleasure’.
I can think of a lot of worse places to do this than sat atop the Garth barrows.
