Latest Fieldnotes

According to my old map I first had the ‘presence of mind’ to ascend this rocky, southern outlier of Y Mynydd Du way back in July 2003. The reason is now lost in the mists of time. Or rather more prosaically, perhaps, the low cloud base that it seems covered the hill that day. However a likely supposition is that I was looking to return to the excellent Saith Maen stone row.... and, er, sort of got a little bit lost. That, as they say, was that until the craggy height happened to catch my roving eye whilst hanging out at the wondrous, if reclusive Llorfa stone circle a couple of years back, duly noting the profile could be said to resemble a recumbent figure from some angles. Why, I’d say it’s a near certainty after several pints of Reverend James. Not that I’d infer participation in any such behaviour upon any of a number of South Walians subsequently confirming that Cribarth is indeed known locally as the ‘Sleeping Giant’. Nice.

In retrospect Cribarth has been on the periphery of my South Walian wanderings for a while now.... too long... without ever taking centre stage. I guess the surfeit of quarrying upon its southern flank had a lot to do with that. Nevertheless prevailing circumstances see me finally parking once again outside Craig-y-Nos country park (there is a large, free layby) and following a signed, gated public footpath leading to a ‘Heritage Walk’. A little way in there is an exhibit of a modern standing stone, but naturally that needn’t detain a TMA-er, there being a number of kosher examples in the area worthy of attention. Follow the path as it forks to the right – as I recall it is signed ‘to the open hill’ or something similar. Yeah, I’d recommend prospective visitors (for once) ‘do as I say, not as I do’ since I carry on ahead and have to cross a wall, prior to ascending, very steeply, to the crest of the ridge above to the right. Too late, I conclude that this is not a good idea, seeing as I’m badly out of sorts today, consequently making very heavy weather of the climb. But there you are. Getting old, I guess.

Cribarth, as would befit a giant, recumbent landscape figure, consists of an undulating, elongated – OK, somewhat ‘industrial’ – ridge aligned roughly south-west. As mentioned above, its southern face will not win any beauty contest – but then no self respecting giant would wish to, surely? – having been ravaged by quarrying over the years. Not my pint of James, to be honest, particularly since the leaden sky suddenly erupts in one of those ‘I’ll soak you in 30 seconds’ downpours. Hey, these damn cairns better be good. Suffice to say, they are. Initially I head for what I take to be the summit at the southern extremity of the ridge, not an unreasonable assumption, bearing in mind the location of the OS trig pillar. This is crowned by a perfectly respectable upland cairn, albeit one subject to the usual ‘hollowing out’ in order to create an internal muppet shelter. At least it does not have to suffer the additional indignity of supporting the trig point, this standing nearby and, incidentally, being perhaps the most pristine I’ve ever come across. I’m almost expecting Danny Baker (it was him, wasn’t it?) to appear with a box of Daz. Almost. The views are pretty good, too, looking north to the obscured mass of Y Mynydd Du, west toward the site of what I believe to be a ritual complex upon Llorfa, south-west(ish) along the Tawe valley to Ystradgynlais.... and, most interestingly, approx north-east, whereby another cairn can be seen perched across the way....

As I approach, it is actually quite difficult to distinguish the northern cairn from the rocky chaos constituting what the map actually cites as being Cribarth’s summit (this certainly does not seem to be the case to me, but I won’t argue with the OS... optical illusion). In fact it is only upon moving beyond – and looking back – that the monument is revealed, in all its definition, as a truly substantial cairn indeed. What’s more, the southern arc is retained by a section of very impressive kerbing. Now that is unusual for South Wales. As TSC’s miscellaneous post states, the cairn is actually not so much a cairn as a large mass of stone blocks arranged in ‘dry-stone configuration’, if that makes sense. And to think I neglected to come here all these years? As I sit and have lunch the weather begins to deteriorate.... further and further. Paradoxically, this only serves to elevate the somewhat surreal vibe to a level whereby I abandon plans to revisit the nearby Saith Maen stone row. Yeah, so much time has elapsed I decide Cribarth should take all the plaudits this time around.

The sloping flat top of Langloch Knowe almost seems (to my idiosyncratic mind, anyway) to represent the fledgling offspring of Cow Castle, the latter overlooking the site to the immediate north-west. Calf Castle it is, then.

According to Canmore Langloch Knowe represents:

“The slight remains of a fort.... Stone-robbing and cultivation have severely reduced the defences but enough remains to distinguish two structural phases, the earlier represented by two ramparts... and the later by a single wall which partly overlies [the earlier] rampart IA [RCAHMS 1978]”

Sure, there isn’t a great deal of wall, rampart, or any other surviving archaeological detail remaining in situ. However Langloch Knowe is so compact it’s impossible not to feel a direct human attachment with those occupying it in days of lore. Hey, perhaps the people of Cow Castle sent their children here to learn how to do ‘adult stuff’, whilst still keeping a beady eye on proceedings from across the way. And no doubt garrisoned some of their best marksmen (be it with bow or sling?) here in times of unrest to help guard the track through these hills with some lethal crossfire. Yeah, wish I’d brought my tent now. Always fancied being Ray Winstone in Beowulf... must be the six pack, I guess. But enough of that. The site accords a superb profile view of the mother enclosure rising above, whilst the steep flanks of Black Hill – or is it Gawky Hill? – tower above to the south. Not the place to stand a prolonged siege then, but handy to give that raiding party a damn good hiding.

As I sit in the sun, gazing toward the superb panorama of hills to the north-east, the farmer from Nisbet Farm comes careering along the track on a quad bike, with collies riding shotgun – as seems to be their modus operandi nowadays – engaged with moving sheep further along the valley. I’m relieved since I wasn’t looking forward to stopping by and making him aware of the maternal distress of the ewe encountered earlier upon the Nisbet enclosure... nothing he hasn’t seen before, of course.

Visited 5th October 2013

I’ve been told about this place before, but its disputed antiquity, and the ever lengthening list of my must see sites had firmly pushed it to the back of my mind. Now with autumn’s grip starting to discourage ventures too far from home, pleasant weekend weather inspired us to seek out somewhere to visit, and being as Knypersley was less than 30 miles from us, today seemed an opportune time to finally visit.

Just south of Biddulph on the A527 we took the signposted right turn to the Greenway Bank Country Park. There are two car parks here, the first with a small visitors centre, toilets and coffee bar, but if you want a shorter walk just continue on down the lane to a further car park next to Knypersley reservoir itself. There are plenty of people out for walks today, and the reservoir is a tranquil site, surrounded as it is by a fringe of woodland. A group of twitchers with some serious photographic equipment, throng the dam wall, feverishly photographing a group of Great Crested Grebes out on the water as we walk by.

Soon we reach Poolside Cottage, and the spot where we take the footpath that flanks the reservoir. Heading into the woods we soon pass a verdurous pond to our right, vegetation thronging its still waters, and hinting of the atmosphere of the woods to come. It’s quieter here, most people having opted to walk around the lakeshore in the sunshine, the forest canopy still retaining enough leaves to darken the day. Just down the path a handy signpost indicates we are heading in the right direction for Gawton’s Stone and Well, and looming out of the trees on an outcrop to the left, is the romantic ruin of the Wardens Tower, a folly built in 1828 and lived in as recently as the 1950’s.

Continuing along the path we soon arrive at Gawton’s Stone, and it’s not something you can easily miss! Resembling a huge dolmen, like some cyclopean version of the Devil’s Den in Wiltshire, a giant boulder rests atop two smaller, but still pretty huge stones. Sadly it’s unlikely to be from the Neolithic, but that’s about as much as we do know. Various theories have been proposed as to how these stones got here. It doesn’t strike me as a folly, as firstly there are written references to it going back to the early 1600’s, (before the era when the building of follies became fashionable) and no records exist of a landowner having had it built. Intriguingly it also looks an unlikely natural arrangement of stones, particularly as the ‘capstone’ is of a different type of rock to the base stones. It is possible though that the largest stone had toppled from the nearby outcrop, which is the same type of rock, fortuitously ending up where it did, or indeed was pushed from the outcrop in antiquity.

It all adds to the sense of mystery, as does the ‘face’ simulacrum of the rock if viewed from one side, and the folktales of the place being redolent with strange magical powers, and mysterious magnetic fluctuations. Sadly I forgot the compass today, so I can’t check if any weird magnetic anomalies were going on, but I didn’t pick up any strange sensations on touching the stone.

The small chamber inside the stone doesn’t look like it would have provided much in the way of shelter for the eponymous hermit who was once supposed to have lived here, but it does appear some working has been made to the stone at the back of the chamber, and I imagine if you were hunkered down under the stone it would provide some solace from the elements (fortunately I don’t need to try it today!)

We spend a bit of time taking in the place, the only sound that of the birds and the wind in the leaves, punctuated by the occasional bark of an overexcited dog getting a walk nearby. J.D. Sainter in his 1878 book suggests a Germanic route for the name of the stone, even going so far as to suggest it resembles an early type of Scandinavian dolmen, and I’ve got to say it does remind me in a way of the Gladsax dolmen we visited in Skane, a site which utilised a natural boulder in its construction, and which was established to be the earliest carbon dated burial mound in Sweden, so perhaps he has a point?

There is also a reference on the Biddulph museum website to an excavation that took place in 1900 which indicated burials took place at the site, but I’ve not been able to uncover any more information about this yet. Stranger and stranger.

All in all an enigmatic site, and well worth a visit, I’ll definitely be back knowing now how close it is to home, and so we leave the mysterious stone for the time being and continue our search for the nearby well…

Visited 6.10.13

It had been a good out in Gloucestershire, on perhaps the last summer-like day of the year? On the way home we happened to be passing the Air Balloon Inn – somewhere he pass often but never get around to stopping. Although early evening the sun was still shining and the children wanted a go in the [playground while we could enjoy a drink in the beer garden. Karen had her usual latte and I had a glass of local cider.

I had wanted to visit the Barrows across the road and now, at last, was my chance.

The road outside the pub is extremely busy and despite Karen’s concerns I managed to get across unscathed. For those old enough to remember the video arcade game ‘Frogger’ – it was a bit like that!

Once safely across I followed the public footpath (signposted) into the trees. Before too long I located the spot where the Barrows reside but due to the dense undergrowth could make out very little.

I guess this is one of those sites where a winter visit is the order of the day.
As TSC says ‘don’t bother coming in high summer!‘

Time to get back to the pub and finish off that cider………………

Visited 6.10.13

Directions:
On the eastern side of a minor road south of Bisley, a little north of the Nash End Farm Barrows. There is room to park next to a rough track. Access to the Barrow is via a public footpath / stile. It is only a 2 minute walk.

A Barrow with a name – usually worth having a look for?

The weather was warm and sunny and the walk easy and flat.

The Barrow is now no more than a low grass mound, approximately 20m wide x 1m high.
Sited on a reasonably prominent position in the flat countryside.

Just about worth a quick look when in the area.

Visited 6.10.13

Directions:
On the western side of a minor road just south of Bisley.
The Barrows are in a field behind a derelict farm building.

We parked at the metal gate and I quickly jumped over and walked around the back of the building. The field behind was full of cows but I was able to spot one of the Barrows.
Not much to see I am afraid – now only a very slight bump in the field.

Not one to recommend.

Visited 6.10.13

Directions:
From the village of Bisley take the minor road east towards Battlescombe. The Giant’s Stone is on the left hand side of the road, amid some undergrowth / trees.

Thanks to TSC for the directions. Without his help I doubt I would have found the stones. The trick is to drive along the road as far as some buildings (on the right) and then look out for a rusty metal field gate on your left. The lane is narrow but you can squeeze in next to the gate. Once over the gate go to your left and have a rummage about in the bushes next to the road. The stones are then pretty easy to spot. If you knew where to look you can see the stones from the road but finding them via the metal gate will make life a lot easier.

In all honesty there is very little to see here other than 3 stones sticking out proud of the ground – forming a parallel row. In saying that, for some reason, I found this a nice little quite spot to spend a short while. It is not very likely you will be disturbed here.

Not much to see but if you are in the area there are worse ways to spend a few minutes.

p.s.
The tree growing between the stones in some of the photos is no longer there – thankfully!

Visited 6.10.13

Directions:
From the village of Bisley take a minor road south east. The Twizzle site is on the left, in a copse of trees, next to a public footpath.

A farmer was busy ploughing his field adjacent to the trees which may explain why there was no farm machinery present on my visit. There were however several large piles of logs being stored amongst the trees.

As TSC states, there is little to see here other than ‘lumps and bumps’.

Not really worth the effort of a visit although access is very easy.

Cow Castle. Don’t you just love the name? I mean, you wouldn’t want to attempt to storm any high ground occupied by the cantankerous creatures... but at least you’d die laughing, the slapstick comic possibilities being endless. Now, as it happens, I’ve visited another Cow Castle, the one way down south upon Exmoor, the wondrous siting of which is probably – in my opinion – superior to this. But not by much. In short, the South Lanarkshire version is superb, even when such contemplation follows a visit to the spectacular Whiteside Hill earlier in the day.

I approach from the west, from the village of Coulter, to be precise. Follow the minor road (approx SE) past the school and take the left hand fork beyond Snaip.... i.e not Birthwood Road... where Culter Water suddenly swings sharply, decisively south. I park here and walk down the narrow track to Nisbet Farm, although, judging by the cheery demeanour of the farmer, it might well be possible to park there with permission. The track continues beyond the farm, ascending the hillside to the left to subsequently fork right toward Cow Castle beckoning upon the skyline (incidentally this track eventually passes below Mitchelhill, site of another fabulous hillfort.... but that’s another story). The slope, emphasising the defensibility of the location, is too steep to contemplate a full frontal assault, cows or no cows lining the ramparts. I’d therefore recommend persevering with the track a short while longer and ascending ‘round the back, so to speak.

The defences are far more substantial than I supposed. According to Canmore:

“The complex remains have been damaged... and in consequence are difficult to interpret .. However, at least two structural periods seem to be involved... The earlier period is represented by two ramparts....which have enclosed a roughly oval area measuring about 85m by 46m. In a later phase the size of the fort was reduced by the construction of two new ramparts.. to enclose an area measuring 43m by 27m....best preserved on the SW [RCAHMS 1978]“.

However, like its Somerset namesake, ancient archaeology very much plays second fiddle to the exquisite landscape context here. For starters it suddenly dawns upon me that the mountain rearing its massive bulk to the west is Tinto, home to, as far as I’m aware, the most massive upland cairn in all Scotland. Then, looking north-east past a small settlement, White Hill holds the eye, crowned by its own hillfort, whilst beyond Nisbet Farm can be seen Snaip Hill featuring... yep, another hill fort. Oh and just across the valley to the approx south-east is the small Langloch Knowe ‘fort. There are others upon distant skylines, the whole forming perhaps the most concentrated and extensive area of Iron Age upland settlement I’ve yet come across.

What a great place to simply sit and watch people go about their daily business down below. The vibe is peaceful, the sun breaking through cloud cover glorious. In fact only the curiousity of seeing the Langloch Knowe and ‘Nisbet’ enclosures is just cause to eventually move on.

The day dawns heavily overcast... so much so that the very sky seems to be inexorably forcing the landscape into a uniform plane more reminiscent of Essex, my home county, than the Scottish Borders. Trouble is I’ve set my heart upon visiting Cow Castle, seemingly impressive when viewed from White Hill late yesterday afternoon, but its c1,000ft summit currently obscured by a thick, impenetrable wall of grey vapour. What to do? The answer comes to me from Anna and Graham Ritchie’s well-thumbed ‘Oxford Archaeological Guide to Scotland’... or what’s left of it. Head approx north-east toward Romannobridge and Whiteside Hill. Apparently another rather good hillfort and might, perhaps, be clearer. So that was decided upon.

At Romannobridge the B7059 heads south to follow, approximately, the course of Lyne Water, a tributary of the iconic River Tweed, no less. After about a mile I park opposite a church at Newlands Bridge and set off up the signed farm track to its right, heading for Whiteside Farm. Well, wouldn’t be a farm track otherwise. If you decide to come hopefully you will see Whiteside Hill rising above to the east (your left), as I later do upon returning to the car... however.... the cloud base is no higher here this morning, forcing me to either rely on the compass or back down. I decide that if I’m unable to reach and identify a bloody great hill fort in mist I should really hang up my boots immediately. Start playing Grand Theft Auto, or something. Fair enough. On we go, then. The track continues past the farm for a fine view of Lyne Water receding into the distance, whereby I veer left (approx east) to ascend – hopefully – to the summit of Whiteside Hill alongside a substantial drystone wall. Before engaging upon the final, very steep ascent, I come across what looks very much to me like the grassy remains of a relatively large, overgrown cairn. Sadly it’s not marked on the map and I can find no reference in Canmore.

So, up into the mist we go.... unfortunately not metaphorically, but meteorologically speaking. Eventually the angle of attack eases and then relents, massive ramparts suddenly looming out of nowhere. Granted, not quite the derelict spaceship materialising from the fog in Alien – you know the scene – but no doubt the nearest I’ll get to such a Geigeresque otherworldly vibe. These banks are much larger than I anticipated and appear of tri-vallate configuration, with ancillary enclosures to north and south... although I found the latter to be quite difficult to define coherently, possibly since the northern is apparently ‘unfinished’. Then again I wouldn’t be surprised if the swirling vapour induced a mildly claustrophobic disorientation. There is also an ‘cross-bank’ upon the col separating Whiteside Hill from White Knowe to the north-east. According to Canmore this latter defensive feature is “45 yds long, consisting of a ditch about 15ft wide with a bank on its SW side. The earthwork is probably contemporary with the pre Roman fort [RCAHMS 1967]“.

As I walk the substantial earthworks – well, it makes a welcome change to walk around in circles intentionally – the cloud base begins to peel away, enabling this latter day visitor to appreciate the fantastic landscape context of this top drawer hillfort. Yeah, set overlooking the confluence of Flemington Burn with Lyne Water, I wonder, perhaps with some degree of justification, whether there were other than just military aspects taken into consideration when choosing to establish the enclosure here? Yeah, nicely defensive.... but is there more to it than that? An attempt at inducing some metaphysical protection, too? Is that really a Bronze Age cairn down below?

Whatever, by all accounts people appear to be have been quite taken with Whiteside Hill, a later walled enclosure being erected partly overlying the innermost rampart, presumably following the Roman withdrawal from these Isles. It seems that a final phase of occupation saw a small earthwork being established within this enclosure. I can picture the Dark Age wife now.... “Is that the best you can do. Haven’t you heard what the great lord Vortigen has built in the far away land of the Cymry. And I’ve got to live in this?” Dark Age warrior (mumbling)... “at least his dragons are inside the rock”....

Visited 7.10.13

We parked at the metal field gate and I quickly hoped over.
The unmistakable grass covered mound of a Long Barrow is right in front of you – despite it having been severely mangled.

In its glory this would have been a fine sight. It is still approximately 3m high x 50m long although badly dug into.

The 3 large stones remaining are now largely overgrown with brambles although the white and yellow lichen covering them was still easy to see.

The late afternoon sun had warmed the stones and despite its destruction this was still a good place to be – on a day like today anyway. The Barrow occupies a fairly prominent location within the surrounding flat countryside.

It loos as though the land owner is erecting a barbed wire fence around the field although access should still be ok as long as he/she doesn’t cover the field gate with the stuff. The mound of the Long Barrow is easy to see from the roadside but you need to get up close to see the stones.

Well worth a visit when in the area.

Directions for round barrows:
See directions for Randwick Long Barrow.
The Barrows can be found in the trees to the right of the information board.

The information board states that finding the two Round Barrows is ‘challenging’ – not to your average TMAer I would say! Although to be fair most people would walk right past not knowing what they were.

The larger of the two Barrows is approximately 0.5m high x 5m across
The smaller one is about 0.3m high x 4m across.
They are right next to each other.

Worth a quick look when visiting the Long Barrow and Dyke.

Visited 6.10.13

Directions:
See directions for Randwick Long Barrow.
The Dyke is next to the information board – can’t miss it!

The information board states that the Dyke is approximately 2,000 years old but its actual function is unknown.

The Dyke is about 1.5m high and runs in a straight line for about 60m before disappearing into the trees.

Worth a look when visiting the Long Barrow.

Visited 6.10.13

Directions:
From Junction 13 of the M5 take the A419 towards Stroud. Just before entering Stroud follow the signs north for Randwick. Drive through Randwick and as you come out of the other side you will come to a bus stop / parking area for Standish Wood (N.T. site). Park here and walk along the old road (past the metal barrier) which runs through the woods. The Long Barrow / Round Barrows / Dyke can all be found along this path (all on the left).

Please note – there is no vehicle access from the west via the B4008 / Stroud Green – as we discovered!

Standish Wood is not the easiest place to find but the effort is well worthwhile.
The weather was glorious, the sky blue, sun shining and not a hint of wind. Fantastic for early October. Perhaps the last day of summer weather this year? (let’s hope not!)
Karen and the children went exploring in the woods while I went to do my own type of searching – ‘old stone’ hunting!

It was a very pleasant walk along the old, long disused road through the delightful woods. The floor of the woods was carpeted in leaves and the leaves on the trees were starting to turn to the tell tale colours of autumn – brown, red and yellow. The old drystone wall either side of the road had tumbled in many places and nature had started to take control – all adding to the experience. There were lots of families out and about enjoying the weather and (as you do) we smiled and said ‘hello’ as we passed each other.

Isn’t it funny how when you are in the countryside it is the ‘norm’ to say ‘hello’ to anyone you meet whereas in the city you would only get strange looks if you did the same thing? Another reason why I much prefer the countryside.

After about 5 minutes of walking along the road you will see a handy N.T. information board on your left. This gives details of the history of the Long Barrow / Round Barrows and Dyke. The Dyke is right next to the info board and you can’t fail to spot it. For the Long barrow keep walking down the road a little further and then head up the slope / through the trees to your left. Just head for the highest point.

You will very soon come out into an open ‘oasis’ with a very large Long Barrow sat in splendid isolation. This part of the wood had clearly been de-forested at some point and is now an open grassy area surrounded by woodland. Perhaps a scene our Mesolithic ancestors would have approved of as they waited to catch their prey? (Minus the Long Barrow of course!)

The Long Barrow is about 3m high x 50m long. Covered in grass and cut down tree stumps. Someone had recently made a fire on top of it. The woodland on the far side of the Barrow had been dug down and this gives the Barrow a much greater height from that side – perhaps 5m high.

The information board states that the Barrow was excavated in 1883 and that a skeleton had been found inside a cist. You can see where it had been dug into although no sign of the cist.

Unfortunately, because of the trees, there are no views to be had. However, a section of trees has been cut away opposite the information board and you get a good idea of how good the views would be without the trees.

This is a lovely (if a little awkward) place to visit and well worth the effort.

06/10/2013 – Not been to this one before, though viewed it from afar many times. We made a bit of a hash of getting to it. Starting from the car park for Dunnideer hillfort there is a circular walk of about 3 miles which goes near the circle so I thought it would be good to include with visits also to the circles of Stonehead and Dunnideer and finishing back at the fort. The walk is signposted and starts a little down the road towards Insch. The path does go quite near the circle but two wire fences and a ditch have to be crossed so it’s not ideal. Best really just to visit from the road east of the circle. Still it was a fine walk.

I really liked my visit to this circle, more really for its setting in the landscape than the actual stones. Just a broken recumbent, flanker and one other stone left. Great view all round to the usual suspects – Bennachie, Dunnideer etc. Worth a visit.

Following on from the excellent Mitchelhill Rings, I guess the White Hill enclosure had an awful lot to live up to in my perception. That, in my opinion, it does not – at least in terms of archaeology – is therefore no great shakes... and certainly no reason not to come and enjoy this well located, highly defensible hilltop. In fact I’d suggest the inherent natural strength of the site, the ground falling sharply away except to the north-east, may well have been the overriding factor in the relatively low-key, insubstantial ramparts to be found here. These, it would appear from excavation, were most probably designed to support a palisade as primary defence. Walking around the site I’m of the opinion that might well have been enough, an assumption the occupiers were no doubt more than qualified enough to make as their lives may well have depended upon it. Much more than I, of course

Anyway, enough of this supposition. According to Canmore the summit of White Hill is crowned by:

“...a fort whose principle lines of enclosure have been timber palisades. These have been supplemented on the shallower slopes around the E, N and W by a dump rampart on which the palisade probably ran, and an external ditch. There is no reason from the visible earthworks to assume that this is an unfinished work...Limited field survey in the interior of the fort has identified....An additional palisaded enclosure... is visible in the interior of the fort, predating the previously recognized palisade [RCAHMS (DCC) 28 March 2002]“.

Archaeology aside, White Hill is a fabulous viewpoint, even taking into account today’s murky conditions. I tell you these Border hills are really impressing me with their rounded contours and ethereal vibe. Not to mention the fact that almost every one seems to have been the home of people back in the day. OK, slight exaggeration, but a glance at Landranger 72 tells its own story. For example... looking south-east as I eat my lunch, tell tale, regular contours upon the hillside beyond give me cause to refer to the aformentioned map. Yeah, Cow Castle and subsidiary enclosures. Only the three?

Feeling somewhat tired and jaded... as you might expect following the long, long, long drive from Essex... I park below Gosland and follow the farm track toward the Kilbucho valley, the overcast conditions not the best, to be honest. But at least it isn’t raining, something that is never welcome upon the first day of a two week wild camp. The track veers right to ascend through trees, a subsequent left hand fork accessing the ruins of a church suggesting a larger resident community in times past. Ignoring this, at least physically, I pass farm buildings to arrive at the foot of Mitchelhill. Guess the ‘fort must be up there, then? Not the most inspired of deductions, perhaps, but at least it is accurate.

A short, but tiring scramble later, my mood rises sky high, unlike the low cloud base which resolutely refuses to permit passage to even a solitary ray of sunlight. The swine that it is. How could it be otherwise when faced with such a fine hillfort as this, perched airily upon the eastern flank of White Hill, the summit of which, also crowned by a hillfort, rises to the approx south-west?

According to Canmore the compact, bi-vallate enclosure is a “roughly circular fort measuring internally 175’ by 160’, with a secondary settlement inside it.... The entrance, measuring 10’ in width, is on the SE (RCAHMS 1967).”

It’s a great viewpoint, too, no doubt even better than I suppose under clearer conditions. Even today the vistas, particularly of the narrow glen carrying the Mitchelhill Burn between the left-hand brooding flanks of 2,000ft plus Cardon Hill – together with the not far off that Scawdman’s Hill – and the lower, but nonetheless substantial enough White Hill (anything but ‘white’ today, it has to be said), are inspiring. In actual fact so much so that, duly picking up the evocative vibe, I decide to go have a look at the summit of White Hill itself. Hell, why not?

I neglected to come here when visiting the seriously be-cairned Greens Moor and environs a couple of years back... probably since the map, highlighting a nearby gravel pit and old railway cuttings, conjured up mental images of a more or less ploughed out remnant of a henge in less than salubrious surroundings. I mean, it’s not exactly famous, is it? However finding myself likely to be in the shadow of Tinto again this year, I duly reappraised Tiompan’s (and Bladup’s now deleted) images and concluded my initial assumption might well be wrong. Suffice to say it was. Fair’s fair. Yeah, in my opinion this is an obscure gem of a site, well worthy of consideration if a couple of hours of time out from the world floats your boat. As it does mine.

The optimum approach might well be from Newbiggingmill to the approx south-west, along the route of the disused railway line alluded to above. However, finding nowhere to park that wouldn’t piss me off if I was in the landowner’s (no doubt muddy) shoes, I take the Weston road at Newbigging itself and squeeze onto the verge near a track heading off into Firpark Wood... that is not the track crossing the clearing near the Firpark buildings further along. Seems this a haunt of local dog walkers, one such man returning to his car confirming that I’m literally on the right track. Incidentally he adds that there’s also a monument to covenanters nearby I should see. Won’t have time, but interesting nevertheless. The track emerges from cover, whereby I veer right toward the OS trig pillar, the trees here apparently recently cleared. From here the henge lies to the left of a prominent copse to the south-east.

As I approach the site it looks, for all the world, a reasonably upstanding defended settlement. Closer inspection, however, reveals there to be no ditch.... well, not encircling the earthworks, at any rate. There is one within, though, a demarcation of bank and enclosure. Yeah, clearly this is no hillfort but a well preserved henge featuring, as Tiompan notes, a pretty substantial surviving circumference, not only in terms of diameter, but also bank height. OK, a knackered old fence does bisect a section of the monument to the south-east... and there is significant evidence of damage apparently resulting from animal husbandry. But, all things considered, for a henge this size it is in remarkably good nick indeed. Most certainly not a virtually ploughed-out ghost in the landscape! Speaking of which, despite the gravel pit to approx south drawing parallels with the magnificent Thornborough trio, the monument’s landscape context – and thus vibe – is far better than I anticipated, too, said workings being some distance away, albeit still noticeable. And of course I find that vibe is always enhanced with the sun periodically streaming through the cloud base and cows getting up to all kinds of bovine shenanigans in the next field. Some noises just sort of ‘blend in’, do they not?

Sometimes being proved completely wrong is good for the soul. Helps to feed my rock n’roll!

Failed visit 30.9.13 :(

The ‘Red Lady’ of Paviland – a name surly to stir the imagination.
A site of international importance and one I am sure that most, if not all, of the readers of this fine website would love to visit.

And here I am, a mere 60 or so miles away – so why I haven’t I as yet made the ‘pilgrimage’?
The obvious answer of course is because of the well know difficulty of visiting the site. Indeed, some books I have read positively warn of the perils of undertaking such a task.
Even Neil Oliver went for the abseil approach – no doubt also making better TV of course.

I had recently come across a website which actually gave details of how to access the cave (without the need of a rope!) and by co-incidence within days TSC posted his fieldnotes – and thus confirming the access details I had read.

Time to put this right. A day off work, no children in tow, weather forecast reasonable for the time of year and an O/S map and tide timetable at hand. What could stop me?

The tide timetable stated that low tide was at 10.00am. I set out at 7.30am to allow plenty of time to drive to the Gower and walk to the cave by low tide. My plan was to park on the B4247 and take the footpath directly south to the cave. Unfortunately there was absolutely nowhere to park on this stretch of road and in the end I decided the best option would be to park in the large car park in Rhossili, next to the N.T. shop, and walk along the coastal path to the cave.

I arrived early enough not to have to pay the £3.00 parking fee (the little shed wasn’t yet open) and I eagerly made my way past the N.T. shop, coastguard station and east along the coastal path. T

he weather was warm, dry and only a little breeze so all was good. I avoided the temptation to check out the several cliff/promontory forts I passed as priority for today was the great cave itself. After all, I could take my time and look over the forts on the way back.

It took me 1 hour and 30 minutes to reach the cave and my heart was racing with expectation and excitement. (This will no doubt sound ‘sad’ to most people but TMAers will know what I mean.) I quickly identified which was the correct headland with photo’s I had taken with me and was soon scrambling down the ravine with the drystone wall running down the middle of it. Why on earth would anyone bother to build a wall here?

I passed Foxhole Slade Cave and was soon onto the treacherous rocks. I have never visited a place before where the rocks were so sharp. They were covered in barnacles and one slip would have resulted in my legs being badly cut (I was wearing shorts). However, this was quickly put to the back of my mind as I was now only a few metres from my goal.

It was at this point that my bubble of excitement burst. The tide was still not far enough out to get around the headland. By now it was 10.30am and I assumed the tide hadn’t fully gone out and I would just have to wait. I sat there like King Cnut and watched the waves roll in and out. To my surprise a seal swam past, sticking its head out of the water to look at me as it did so. I bet he/she could see the cave!

I decided to have a look at Foxhole Slade Cave while I was waiting but my mind was fixed on the tide and Paviland Cave. I returned to the rocks and sat and waited and waited. By 12 noon it was obvious (even to me) that the tide wasn’t going out any further. I tried to get to the cave by scrambling along the side of the headland and also from the other side of the headland – DO NOT attempt this as it is dangerous.
The only safe way to access the cave would be from the beach – which was still underwater. I was so desperate to see the cave I would have swam for it if I had taken bathers with me – that would have been a first!

Despite my best efforts their would be no visit by me today. I had to be sensible from a safety point of view as if I did fall and incapacitate myself, not only was I on my own, but there is no mobile phone signal from the rocks. I slowly and disappointedly had to head back up the ravine and onto the coastal path. So close – but so far. Gutted.
All I can think of is that the low tide wasn’t low enough and that not all low tides allow access – if you see what I mean. A ‘low’ low tide is perhaps necessary?

On the way back to the car park I visited the other sites along the way and tried to enjoy the coastal views but no doubt my disappointment took the edge off it. This is clearly one place I will need to come back to. As Fu Manchu used to say (ask your dad) ‘I will return!’

For anyone contemplating a visit can I offer the following advice?

1. The cave would be accessible to most people once the tide is far enough out. The walk off the coastal path down the ravine is straight forward although the sharp rocks are a little tricky. I would not recommend a visit for those with mobility problems.

2. The walk from the car park in Rhossili is long but offers great views. The quickest way would be to get someone to drop you off on the B4247 and head directly south. However, the coastal path is steep and narrow in places and is often close to the cliff edge. I would not recommend a visit with children – far too dodgy.

3. Check the tide times (try to get a ‘low’ low tide and leave yourself 1.5 hours to walk to the cave if coming from Rhossili.

I hope this is of some help and you have better luck than I did. I still feel gutted about this ‘failed visit’ – more so than any other ‘failed visit’ I have had over the years.
One day…………

You can drive right up to this mountaintop cairn, though I suggest you wait until the cloud clears, unlike us who drove up in maybe 10 metre visibility and a force 10 gale. There is a huge mast up here, hence the road, and the howls as the wind blew through it added to an already spooky atmosphere.

The cairn, said to be a passage grave (see archaeology.ie entry) is about 3 metres high. Much of it is now grass covered, though there are patches where its true nature is still visible. There are quite a few larger stones around, though I couldn’t make head nor tail of these, battling as I was with the driving mist of low cloud.

I would say that the views from here are spectacular but we couldn’t see to confirm that. As it’s a driveable climb, I may re-visit here some day to check.

Carl can’t exactly admonish himself for failing to spot this pair of chambered cairns since the hillside falls so sharply away from the road as to be verging upon the vertical. In short, no-one will be seeing these from the car. As for myself, with the mind reeling from the after effects of a day spent visiting a veritable procession of chambered cairns, I am on the verge of giving up when.... hey, you know the cliche. One last look before retiring to Loch Lurgainn for the night. So, upon parking just before (east of) the impressive-looking Knockan Crag, I peer over the precipitous edge and, funnily enough, there they are. I was shocked, too, so it would have been rude not to have a look, despite the passing heavy shower.

The barbed-wire fence supplementing the crash barrier is, naturally, a pain, but I’ve no time to head back to the nearest farm for a chat and lower approach. Consequently I take the plunge, trying not to invoke a literal, involuntary response, you understand, and just about avoid a 10 from the Russian judge. It is worth the effort. OK the cairns aren’t the largest to be found in these parts, but I’m in agreement with Canmore.... both are – or rather were – chambered.

That to the west is the larger of the pair and possesses a reasonable volume of cairn material in situ. Not to mention two – I think – orthostats protruding through the cairn. Triangular, too. That’ll be the remnants of the chamber, then. Always a welcome sight. An unwelcome addition, however, is the wooden telegraph pole (or power line, can’t recall now) subjecting the monument to an unwarranted, and quite disgraceful indignity. But there you are.

The second monument is less substantial. However at least four orthostats stand proud upon the summit of the grassy cairn as ample compensation. Cul Mor towers above lesser hills to the approx west and the vibe here, accentuated by the fading light, is very positive. Ironically it is the approaching nightfall, such as it is here, that duly truncates the visit.

Thelonious’s lucid comments succinctly capture the appeal of this megalithic Inverpolly wonderland for this curious Citizen Cairn’d. Take out the map, choose something on said map.... and go see what’s there. If it’s a little underwhelming – possible; but, I’d wager, unlikely – there’s no need to fret. Just move onto the next one nearby. Simples. Oh. And you may well get a glimpse, or two, of some pretty special landscape into the bargain.

Having said the above, however, it would be remiss of me to claim any pioneering TMA intention for this pair of cairns. No, I’d seen the previous notes, well, previously, and consequently scribbled this one down on the list. So, awaking from an overnighter just east of Loch Borralan, I make my way to the co-ordinates mentioned by thelonious a little west of the Ledmore River cairn on the A835. As I arrive, two very fit looking Germans (men, unfortunately) speed off down the track in the direction of the Cam Loch leaving me floundering very much in their wake... more or less literally, since I doubt whether the landscape could take any more moisture, to be honest. But hey, there’s no denying Mother Scotland ‘knows’ a thing or three about how to use all this excess water to great aesthetic effect. Consider the sight of Suilven rising across the relatively placid surface of Cam Loch as I slither down to the near shore. Surely a spot to spend all day at relaxing under the watchful gaze of Suil? Er no. Not when the standing stones exert a magnetic attraction upon the visitor so difficult to define. Much like my inherent sense of (mis)direction....

So... abandoning the track (as usual) in search of legendary views, I  discover, as (I think) Prof Cox once said, that ‘things can only get better’ in that respect. Truly exquisite. I really do not think the traveller can experience many finer for the effort required. Then... I come face to face with a seemingly impassable deer fence. Ha! Apparently they have these in Scotland to keep the sassenachs in check. Once across – not being a deer – I proceed to make a bit of a hash of locating the ancient monuments, only to suddenly see an ‘obvious’ chambered cairn standing upon a prominent knoll a lot further below my position than I had anticipated from the 1:50k map. Clearly from the ‘Cam Loch’ nomenclature I assumed the monument would overlook the loch. Guess the assumption to take from this is to never, ever.... assume. Nevertheless, despite the lack of altitude, the location is superb. As is the archaeology, the cairn possessing an apparently polygonal chamber, entrance passage and very substantial lintel. Amongst other stones. A top-class site, in fact.

The vibe kicks in and it is time to sit down and enjoy the light, enjoy the colours, the textures of the stones... enjoy the moment. The cairn – actually ‘cairns’ since there is another a little to the approx south-east, albeit lacking the orthostats and inherent detail of its near neighbour – overlooks the Ledbeg River flowing below to the east, as you might have expected of a Neolithic monument. OK, the vista is not as overwhelming as those experienced earlier. No, a quarry across the valley emphasises this is very much a ‘working landscape’. Yeah, people still live and work here attempting to tame this brutally uncompromising corner of Scotland. Guess they always have, the Cam Loch chambered cairn still remaining upon this barren hillside in mute testimony to past human endeavours. I like that.

Visited 30.9.13

As TSC states there is little to see, just a low arcing bank approximately 1m high.

As you would expect, the coastal views are great.

Don’t get too close to the edge as one slip and you will be joining the ancestors!

Visited 30.9.13

After the huge disappointment of not being able to access Paviland Cave I somewhat reluctantly headed up to the top of the cliff (after first visiting Foxhole Slade) to have a look at the remains of this Cliff Fort.

There is little I can add to the previous fieldnotes.

I purposefully looked for, and found, the metal ring used by those abseiling down the cave (the one the always show on TV!). Small consolation I know.

I peered over the edge to see if I could at least glimpse the cave entrance – I couldn’t.
I was however nearly blown over the edge by a strong gust of wind and I had to quickly drop to all fours to avoid getting a very brief glimpse of the cave before hitting the rocks!

Be careful out here!

Visited 30.9.13

Directions:
Midway between Thurba cliff/promontory fort and Paviland cave. The Knave fort is a short walk south off the coastal path.

The coastline along this stretch of the Gower is particularly dramatic with the layers of rock forming the cliff rising high out of the water on a steep angle.

I was able to make out two lines of defence, the outer rampart now about 1m high, with the inner ramparts about 2m high.
The dreaded gorse covers part of the northern outer defences.

Not much else to add really.

Worth a look when walking this stretch of the coastal path.