Latest Fieldnotes

It might appear somewhat perverse... odd, even – here upon a Scottish island of superlative natural scenery, boasting the magnificent Black Cuillin, Britain’s finest mountain range – to direct the gaze of prospective visitors towards what are, in effect, mere ‘minor hills’. However, please bear with me. For while an ascent of, say, Sgurr Alasdair represents a classic expedition under the right conditions, an experience never to be forgotten... there is more to this magically diverse isle than the copious distribution of soaring aretes of naked black gabbro rock, the preserve of ‘roped-up’ mountaineering muppets steadfastly refusing to look around them. Much more.

For, just as subtle nuances of light, shade and colour; of texture, smell... of sound... inform sensory perception, so it is the juxtaposition of different landscapes which ensures Skye, in The Citizen Cairn’s opinion, is wondrously unique. Yeah, is not the supporting actor as integral to any great story as the headlining star? Consider: Picard and Riker (or Kirk and Spock, naturally); Holmes and Watson; Mainwairing and Wilson; Ted and Dougal? Hence, despite rising to just c1,604ft at the higher southern summit (Healabhal Bheag), MacLeod’s Tables exert a dominating presence over north-western ‘lowland’ Skye. Notwithstanding that a mountain/hill’s size is, of course, relative to its locale, it is surely the distinct ‘decapitated’ profile of the twin heights, the result of horizontal strata of basalt which helps elevate them (ha!) to iconic Inner Hebridean status. They just stand out, right? The effect is almost unique in my experience, the exception proving the rule the twin sentinel tops of The Brecon Beacons – Pen-y-Fan and Corn Du – located many miles distant in South Wales. Here, however, MacLeod’s Tables rise in splendid isolation, ripe for association with local legend and lore aplenty, this only enhancing the vibe to be experienced by those travellers prepared to venture off the beaten track, far from the tourists and chattering school parties. Clearly, our ancient predecessors concurred with this view. But don’t take my word for it: the northern summit, Healabhal Mhòr, is crowned by the remains of a Bronze Age cairn.

I approach Duirinish upon the A865 heading towards Dunvegan, its castle still the seat of the chief of Clan MacLeod... but more of that later. The day having dawned fine, the notorious banks of grey vapour informing Skye’s ‘Misty Isle’ epithet conspicuous by their absence, the fabulous coastal views across Loch Bracadale are but a teasing prelude to what is to come. Passing the small hamlet of Ose, a pair of large cairns appear in profile surmounting the rise beyond Loch Caroy. These are the Cairns of Vatten (or Feolaig, if you prefer), two mammoth Neolithic (presumably) chambered cairns well worth hanging out at for a while. The northern monument is, by far, the better preserved nowadays [NG2979 4408], rising to c20ft in height, with an approx 90ft diameter. Sadly its southern neighbour is much depleted in comparison. Nevertheless, despite the ravages of time... and more destructive human agency, visitors may well discern a perceived correlation, an association, between the great ancient stone piles and Macleod’s Tables looming beyond? An intentional ‘mirroring’ of the latter by an ancient people seeking to link their lives to the surrounding landscape, perhaps to impart legitimacy, meaning? Those of us who enjoy all too brief sojourns in such wild, uncompromising places might well be understanding of such intentions? Indeed, Cope makes this point within his seminal day-glo orange tome. Whatever the truth, the possibility is intriguing. Moving on, as one eventually must, the B884 exits left to cross the Osdale River as it flows into upper Loch Dunvegan, the road in due course arriving at a crossroads overlooked by the collapsed remnants of Dun Osdale. This is one of many examples of Iron Age brochs still to be found upon Skye, defensive drystone towers, circular in plan and synonymous with Scottish prehistory. There is another, finer example to be found at Dun Fiadhairt to the northwest of Dunvegan Castle [NG23115042].

Enough remains of Dun Osdale to afford the visitor a glimpse of what life within these ancient strongholds may have entailed, several courses of walling still remaining in situ, together with evidence of the trademark ‘double-skinned’ construction technique employed by Scottish Iron Age society. Furthermore – this being Skye – tales of the supernatural are never far from the surface. Yeah, legend has it that a curious local happened to chance upon a group of ‘faery folk’ having a good time here and, rather stupidly (ahem) decided to stay and watch. All was well until said ‘gentleman’ happened to sneeze and, thus discovered, was dragged inside.. only to be given a slap-up feed by the Daoine Sithe intent upon bewitching him. Our ‘hero’ was apparently wise to such shenanigans (his mother being a witch) and, instead of partaking of the copious wine proffered, instead made off with the goblet across the River Osdale. Job done, right? Never underestimate the power of faery retribution, however, for although his canny witch/mum applied an anti-faery vengeance charm, the little people were one step ahead. The goblet was, of course, cursed, the man being subsequently murdered for it by a former friend. The cup can apparently now be seen on display within Dunvegan Castle.... amongst ‘other stuff’. More of which later.

Such is the nature of the base camp chosen for The Citizen Cairn’s attempt upon Healabhal Mhòr today. Such is the Isle of Skye, to be fair. By all accounts, the easiest, direct approach would appear to be along the access track for Osdale Farm within Osdale Glen and hence ascending the peak’s eastern shoulder. However, since our ‘Faery broch’ stands at the base of the hill’s north-eastern ridge, my route is at least – for once – logical.... if very hard going in places, trackless rough moorland/bog ‘enlivened’ with peat-hags making a mockery of the ostensibly modest height gain. Indeed, the final ascent of Healabhal Mhòr’s northern face is brutal in the extreme, the sheer effort demanded of me, particularly under a now peerless royal blue sky, out of all proportion to limited expectations derived from a perusal of the map. When I eventually do reach the summit plateau I’m twice blown away..... quite literally, upon leaving the lee, by the freezing wind.... and metaphorically by the mesmeric coastal views.

The summit plateau is extensive, to say the least, and larger than the somewhat higher Healabhal Bheag looming across the glen to the south, this perhaps explaining the otherwise somewhat contradictory nomenclature (Mhor means ‘big’ in Gaelic). I make my way westward toward the summit (1,545ft), this crowned by a rather well-built cairn which, to be honest, looks too good to be true. As it happens, the professionals at RCAHMS agree, describing the cairn as ‘cone-shaped and probably an old trigonometrical station (1928)’. The prehistoric cairn I’ve come to see lies at the extreme opposite, south-eastern end of the decapitated hilltop, the view across Loch Bracadale toward the serried summits of The Black Cuillin utterly sensational – there is no other word for it. Aside from ‘magnificent’, perhaps? Or ‘wondrous’? OK, you get the point. As is sadly often the case with upland funerary cairns, however, the surviving archaeology is not in the same league. Although presenting a very substantial footprint, the centre of the cairn has been decimated by the excavation of three (count ‘em, the idiots) muppet shelters.... its very heart torn out by vandals unable (or unwilling) to dress appropriately for conditions. As if to underline the point, I’m briefly joined by a young couple clad in shorts and T-shirts, neither in any position to remotely deal with the brutal wind whatsoever. No wonder the British uplands claim so many victims...

I sit back and attempt to take it all in, to absorb the natural melodrama that is Skye. Yeah, despite the aforementioned Black Cuillin rising to double the height of my not-so-lofty perch, I reckon only a fool would dismiss MacLeod’s Tables as being an inferior viewpoint, such is the quality of the far-reaching coastal views. I note the relative positions of the various brochs, chambered cairns and other ancient sites that infuse the island with such a deeply ingrained sense of human continuity, the notion that the viewer is somehow witnessing time divorced from the constraints of linear progression... that somehow the past, present and future are in a state of flux. What IS it about this small corner of Scotland that such sentiments somehow do not seem trite?

Time to eat as my gaze settles upon the Fiadhairt peninsular and, to its right, Dunvegan Castle itself. Yeah, The Clan MacLeod. What is it with this ‘table’ business, then? Surely not tales of giants to mitigate the little folk? Well, funnily enough, it would appear Healabhal Mhòr and Bheag became known as ‘MacLeod’s Tables’ following much more anthroponotic antics: a case of said clan chief having had to extricate himself pretty sharpish from the potential repercussions of some farcically over the top blagging. To none other than the King himself.... D’oh!

According to legend – presumably based upon a degree of truth – it would appear that Alasdair MacLeod made a visit to the court of James V in Edinburgh and, somewhat peeved by the condescending attitude shown to Highlanders there during the 16th Century, boasted that – as fine as the King’s facilities were – he, MacLeod, possessed a larger ‘table’ than James back home on Skye. Not to mention ‘brighter candles’ and even a higher ceiling upon his banqueting hall! Err, oh dear. Naturally assuming our Alasdair to be what the Irish would term a ‘gobshite’, the King no doubt decided to come see for himself and take this insolent braggart down a peg or two, so to speak. Anyway, MacLeod somehow – since The Citizen Cairn assumes he didn’t chuck James a pair of boots saying ‘It’s not far, just up there... see you at the top’ – managed to convey the bemused monarch to the summit plateau of Healabhal Mhòr at dusk, whereby a lavish banquet was laid out surrounded by torch-bearing clansmen... in lieu of candles!! Hopefully minus the dodgy Mariachi band, since that WOULD be going too far. To be fair, as far as face-saving/neck-saving exercises go, this was a pretty good attempt in the circumstances. Certainly enough to have given Hitler’s architect Albert Speer and his Nazi goons wet dreams back in the day. ‘Cathedrals of Light’? Ha! You obviously haven’t been to Scotland, fool. Maybe that weirdo Hess might’ve done better? My own luncheon is somewhat less ostentatious in comparison. Nonetheless, there is simply no faulting the outlook here.

By all accounts, the 8th Clan Chief MacLeod – known as Alasdair ‘Crotach’ (’humpback’) – wasn’t exactly a pillar of the community, at least not if one prefers one’s leaders not to be consumed by religion and responsible for mass murder upon neighbouring isles such as Eigg. However, at least his mad antics have overridden the alternative famous association: that of St Columba. According to legend, the 6th-century inhabitants of Skye saw fit to refuse the holy man lodging – for an undisclosed reason – whereupon God (apparently) sliced off the tops of Healabhal Mhòr and Bheag so the poor saint could have a place to sleep and a table for eating... and other stuff requiring a flat surface. One is left wondering why such a giant of a man was bothering the poor islanders in the first place, given his somewhat, er, ‘excessive’ requirements? But there you are. And, to be fair, he was never going to compete with the fairy folk, was he?

Speaking of which... Alasdair MacLeod’s descendant apparently still resides within Dunvegan Castle today. A scan of the estate’s website reveals at least one more treasure of note: Am Bratach Sith – “The Fairy Flag of Dunvegan”. ‘Yeah, right’, I hear you say? However, it would appear this faded yellow/brown silk banner is credibly thought to have originated in Syria or Rhodes during the 4th Century AD and, furthermore, is linked to Harald Hardrada, ancestor of Clan Macleod and the very same Norse nutter defeated by King Harold at Stamford Bridge during that fateful year of 1066. Yeah, apparently the infamous warrior brought a ‘famous banner’ (The ‘Land Ravager’?) back from Crusading escapades in The Middle East said to possess ‘mystical powers’ and the ability to snatch victory from defeat etc. (so presumably never possessed by Tottenham Hotspur, then?) Although it’s fair to say it didn’t exactly help our Harald, did it? Perhaps, dear reader, you may therefore choose to believe in the connection to the Daoine Sithe? Well, this is Skye after all. Behemoth 6th Century saints, extreme 16th Century alfresco dining.... fairy cups and flags? As I said, expect the unexpected upon this magical island. There can be only one, MacLeod.

Well, I said I’d be back, I was kinda hoping that it was going to be sooner than six years though.

My last visit was in late spring and there was bluebells a go go, but this time the weather is treating? us to a heat wave, as a consequence of that all the grass is brown, except the long grass that hides the cup marked stone, fairly typical is that.
It’s very nice to sit in the shade with your back to the tree, pick a stone or a view to stare at, get comfy and stay a while, even our two Jack Russell’s got the chilled vibe here, there isn’t much reason to leave, the only reason I could think of was Croft Moraig, then that leads to the Falls of Acharn and it doesnt really stop till you get to the Kinnel of Killin, curse you abundant stone circle erecting Scotlanders.
I’ll be back, again, winter or Autumn next time I think.

First-time visitors to the wondrous Isle of Skye may, upon heading west from the iconic, graceful bridge spanning Kyle Akin, be forgiven a certain sense of initial deflation – perhaps even mild self-admonishment? – at having apparently been seduced by the legend, the myth... the mystique... that clouds any rational appraisal of ‘The Misty Isle’... as comprehensively as the all too frequent cumulo-nimbus obscures its landscape. Where is the all too keenly anticipated scenic splendour? Where, indeed?

Persevere, however, for such disappointment is but short-lived, a brief aberration, for Beinn na Caillich soon reassures any initially bemused punter, the mountain offering a strikingly elegant, granite domed – dare I say ‘mamillar’? – profile to travellers approaching the bustling town of Broadford. Some will pause here to replenish petrol and provisions; many more tourists will take the B8083 traversing Strath Suardal towards Loch Slapin and Elgol, enjoying some of the finest coastal scenery these British Isles have to offer en route; while other, more intense types (ahem) with a penchant for prehistory may well choose to divert in search of the four chambered cairns which cluster around the peak like chicks to Mother Hen: the massive Liveras cairn overlooking Broadford Bay beyond Corry to the north; Achadh a’Chuirn, hidden away in a local backyard at Waterloo; the excellent An Sithean beside our aforementioned sightseers’ Torrin road; or even the monuments subsumed within forestry near the electricity substation at Old Corry. Whatever their bag, all visitors, regardless, cannot fail to notice the ‘Hill of the Old Woman’ looming high overhead, its red-granite eroded flanks rising straight from sea level and thus appearing much taller than its unexceptional (for Scotland) 2,402ft. I, for one, have rarely seen such an aesthetically pleasing mountain – so graceful, so curvilinear of line. Ironically, perhaps, so unlike the jagged black gabbro summits of The Black Cuillin for which The Isle of Skye is justly famed?

It is therefore easy to see why Beinn na Caillich might have been referred to as a ‘sacred hill’ by some, such is its complete physical dominance of the locality. However, arguably its most intriguing feature is not its enigmatic, seemingly unscalable profile, but rather the placement of a massive cairn near its summit. OK, some muppets, particularly those card-carrying, peak-bagging ‘mountaineering’ types, might tell you that ‘every mountain has a cairn, so what?’ Well, for one thing, they are in error – in fact, The Citizen Cairn advises that one should pity such fools lacking even a basic awareness of their prehistoric heritage. Yeah, there are ‘marker cairns’ erected by walkers for reasons best kept to themselves... and then there are ancient funerary cairns, the final resting places of our Bronze Age ancestors. And then, to be fair, there is the great cairn said in Scottish mythology to be that of ‘Saucy Mary’ (according to the owner of Achadh a’Chuirn – or did she not say ‘Saucy Sue’?), arguably in a league of its own.

Now should any of the more perceptive of our visitors heading for the delights of Elgol happen to glance to their right as the receding treeline reveals the mountain in all its splendour, they might, perhaps, note a green mound some way distant crowned by a few upstanding stones... the latter arranged as if placed by human agency. This is the aforementioned An Sithean chambered cairn, surely one of the most gloriously sited Neolithic monuments in all The Highlands? Indeed, such is the welcoming, ethereal vibe here that I choose to park up overnight, lulled to sleep as if within the womb, the only disturbance caused by the soft thuds of lambs ‘bonking’ into the car during the depth of night. No damage done, however, the creatures equipped with natural padding for such an eventuality. Truly, Nature thinks of everything, does she not? Anyway, dawn arrives true to forecast, wraith-like early morning mist forlornly clinging to the summit of the mountain before quickly dissipating, succumbing inexorably to the heat of the rising sun to reveal Saucy Mary’s cairn clearly visible far above.

Gazing wistfully at the ridiculously steep-looking flanks and seemingly razor-sharp ridges as I munch my Coco Pops (other cereals are available) I suddenly realise that, like our first-time visitors, I’ve been seduced by ‘Saucy Mary’; find that I’m tentatively discussing with myself the possibility of an approach from the north, or thereabouts. You what? Give me a break.... you want to climb that, you eejit? But the seed, now sown, begins to germinate at a prodigious, accelerating, alarming rate. ‘After all, you ain’t getting any younger’, snipes the outwardly silent voice of introspection. Damn it to blazes.... and – retrospectively, at least – praise it to the heavens. To be fair, I’m by no means the first (relatively) modern antiquarian to wish for an aerial perspective, a certain Thomas Pennant having done so in 1772, noting ‘the prospect to the west was that of desolation itself; a savage series of rude mountains, discoloured, black and red, as if by the rage of fire. The serrated tops of Blaven affect with astonishment: and beyond them, the clustered height of Quillin (sic)’. I’m suckered into accepting the challenge. Hey, what could possibly go wrong?

So... a minor road signposted ‘Old Corry’ leaves the A87 a little Sligachan-side of Broadford, plenty of parking space available before the electricity sub-station (incidentally, also the starting point for a visit to the nearby chambered cairns). The mountain rears disconcertingly far above, prompting last-minute thoughts of backing out. ‘Only’ 2,402ft eh? Ha! As any experienced upland wanderer will confirm, starting from near sea level makes all the difference to those that are – OK – ‘not getting any younger’. Before I can countermand my decision, I set off through a break in the forestry cloaking the rough north-eastern slopes, the route an assault course of ankle-twisting tree stumps and timber residue, but nonetheless passable. As is the deer fence which has clearly seen better days. Traversing open hillside now, a westerly bearing sees me arrive at the prosaically named Lochan Beinn na Caillich, a pleasing body of water set within extensive bog. The eastern flank of the mountain overwhelms above and beyond, two steep ridges defining Coire Fearchair.

I decide to go with that to the right, for better or worse, although in retrospect a direct approach across boulder fields is probably not the best option, there being a more grassy alternative a little further on. Cresting the ridge, the magnificent vistas northward to Scalpay and northwest towards the fabulous Glamaig (and cohorts) ensure the sweaty struggle is more than worthwhile. From here ‘the only way is up’, as Yazz euphorically sang back in 1988, the obvious onward route very steep and narrow, particularly during the final stages. However, what with the absence of what the more tedious mountaineer would term ‘technical difficulties’, the frequent pauses to drink in that scenic grandeur is not a hardship. Clambering – at last – onto the curving summit plateau, the pent-up anticipation of arrival, of seeing the cairn at close quarters, immediately evaporates as like Pennant before me, I’m totally awestruck, completely blown away by the stark, magnificent vista to the west. Sinking to the ground I stare, spellbound, the sheer overwhelming impact of the imagery akin to being hit by the allegorical freight train, the curvaceous Red Cuillin drawing the gaze, beyond Bla Bheinn, to the magical, serrated skyline of Britain’s finest mountain range, bar none: The Black Cuillin.

If ever there was a vision to enjoy for eternity, this has a pretty good claim. Speaking of which.... ah, yes, the cairn. Regaining my composure I head toward what is clearly a very substantial monument indeed. The approx northern arc is held in situ by several massive blocks of what I assume to be natural outcropping, smaller slabs having apparently been utilised at other points of the circumference as kerb stones. Folklore holds the monument – according to Canmore apparently never ‘opened’ – to be the final resting place of our ‘Saucy Mary’, said to be a Norwegian female dignitary of some description, dependent upon source, with a nice little earner on the side (that Arthur Daley would’ve been proud to call his own) involving levying tolls upon passing ships from her Caistel Maol...and flashing her breasts to reward supplicant sailors. Effective, perhaps, but not very PC. However, bear in mind that QE2 Crossing at Dartford, way down south, has been extracting money from us for over 30 years now. Go figure?

Moving swiftly on... while The Citizen Cairn believes there may well be more than a grain of truth in such a legend – the Norse were, of course, hereabouts back in the day and certainly not averse to such extortionary practices – if someone was ever interred (and perhaps still resides?) within Beinn na Caillich’s behemoth of a cairn, he/she would surely date from a much earlier epoch in what was to become Scotland’s story: The Bronze Age? On balance, The Saucy Saga appears to me reminiscent of the appropriation of the sentinel peaks of Snowdonia’s Y Carneddau (Carnedd Llewelyn and Carnedd Dafydd) to the memory of the medieval Welsh Princes, notwithstanding those mountains’ confirmed prehistoric pedigree. Whatever the truth, significantly placed a little to the approx north-east of the OS trig pillar, this is clearly no walker’s cairn, certainly, when bearing in mind I quite literally see no other soul during c10 hours upon this mountain, time spent under peerless conditions. You do the maths...

The sun beats down from a pristine blue sky (yeah, I know, in Scotland?), yet it is bloody freezing up here in the company of the Norwegian ice maiden, a forceful wind requiring the wearing of full winter kit. Wandering around the summit plateau of shattered rock attempting to take it all in I note how the fabulous coastline of Skye offsets the predominantly green and grey of the landscape to great dramatic effect.... drama.... yeah, that is the keynote here, what this mountain is all about. Such theatrics needed to be artificially contrived at places such as Stonehenge, far to the south upon Salisbury Plain – and, to be fair, how! – but, clearly, there was no need, indeed no possibility of improving upon Mother Nature here upon this brutal mountain summit. Isolated from the main
bulk of The Red Cuillin and significantly lower than The Black Cuillin’s numerous, jagged munros, the location of Beinn na Caillich accords the spellbound traveller a unique, privileged, bird’s eye view of this wonderful Isle... a view fit for a king. Or princess, perhaps?

.. land and sea in such close proximity as to appear – no, to BE – mutually inclusive. Reluctant, in the extreme, to leave, I note another craggy height overlooking Kyleakin to the east, beyond the seemingly toy town rooftops of Broadford. I check the map, then double-check – surely some mistake, or perhaps the locals having a good-natured laugh at gullible tourists driving around in circles? – since this is ALSO named Beinn na Caillich. The thought occurs; well thoughts actually: 1) does this one possess a cairn (it does, but that’s another wondrous story); 2) since Caisteal Maol lies immediately below to the approx northwest, perhaps this was actually the last abode of Saucy Mary? No, on second thoughts, let’s leave things as they are since it appears this Beinn na Caillich is
actually eulogised as the last resting place of Grainnhe, wife of Fionn, whom students of Celtic mythology will immediately recognise as head of the mystical warrior-giant clan The Fiennes... assuming that, being students, they weren’t down the pub during that particular lecture? Goes without saying, right? Also, that there is clearly a touch of local brinkmanship – or rather brink-womanship – inherent here in this corner of Skye. “You say tomato, I say tomato”. Pah! Who needs a legendary Norwegian sexpot princess when you’ve a goddess warrior giant like Lucy Lawless on steroids? Next, they’ll be saying the pathetic little French dude with the silly hat is actually buried at Waterloo?

Time does its thing, refusing to advance such seemingly epic moments in a frame-by-frame motion, as is the custom of dodgy Hollywood blockbusters. There is no overbearing soundtrack, either, simply an all-pervading silence.. assuming one discounts the curiously synthetic sound of wind upon Triplepoint Ceramic. Consequently, a full six hours spent upon this wondrous spot seems to evaporate into the void, here where the landscape intrudes into the upper realm. Here, where the Bronze Age inhabitants of this idiosyncratic, magical Isle chose to (probably) send their VIPs upon the journey to eternity. I finally bid the great cairn and its magical environs, plus whoever might be lingering around from times long passed, a fond farewell to begin my descent. No need to rush, right?

To many people obey the ‘No Access’ or ‘Police No Parking’ and thereby help keep these sites from being visited. I, on the other hand within reason, ignore these stupid requests and march straight on, after all fences are supposed to be jumped. After knocking at the door, no reply, I headed into the garden. Plenty of room for the car in the entrance.

I’d never heard of The Giant’s Grave until stopping in the villlage of Kirkmichael (petrol, shop, cafe, nice place good food) for some much needed lunch. Asking for some local information from the local people is always a good thing and hasn’t failed me yet. Some fantastic info (I’ll chase that up next week) was freely given including info about the Giant’s Grave.

A very nice stone standing at 1.7 meters high sits at the top of an almost 6 meter mound, e.g. The Giant’s Grave. Looks good in the garden tho!

Visited 25/7/2013.

Right beside the road. No other comments to make except beware, I was almost knocked over by two runaway sheep as I jumped onto the road. Please observe that I didn’t try to catch them :-)

Visited 25/7/2013.

The nearby massive cairn can wait till next week as time was pressing so I decided to find this wonderfully situated cairn instead. Creag Dubh Leitir provides an atmospheric and overpowering presence in the north whilst the gentler agricultural and River Ardle scenes are to the south. And either side east/west provides lots of prehistory, but that can wait till next week.

I parked just before the Straloch Bridge at the recycling area of the Glenfernate Lodge entrance. Head up the track until the first level. Look east, follow the track and jump the gate. Keep on the track for a 100 meters then look north over some ruined crofts, the cairn is just behind.

The cairn sits at 9 meters wide/0.6 meters tall and still has some large kerbs. Field clearence mentioned by Canmore seems to have been moved.

Wonderful scenery, wonderful place!

Visited 25/7/2013.

I parked at the entrance to Straloch House, plenty of room. Used the wooden stile on the opposite side of the road, to the south, and made my way down to the stone and the beautiful River Ardle.

Continuing the beast theme of previous posts I’m glad to say nothing was in the field. On the opposite side of the river some horses did say hello.

Visited 25/7/2013.

Lair was the final stop of an exciting and multi faceted day (and that was just the weather). Like the start the weather was beginning to darken and storms weren’t far away but I made it up and down without getting another drenching.

Lair is situated near the A93 just north of the B951 junction. (At the moment closed for several weeks because of a much needed upgrading.) Stop at the first track heading west. There is plenty of room for car parking.

Several tracks appear but choose the middle and head up the hill. It is a steady climb nothing to difficult. Once at the top keep going a further 1/2 mile and the cairn comes into view. Replaced turfs, made by a recent dig, confirm that the site has been reached. One thing for sure is that the builders knew exactly what they were doing. Surrounded by high peaks. Lamh Dearg, Cnoc Feanndage, Coire Goibhre and others, they surround the site almost making the cairn feel like an altar in a vast temple. Certainly high in the sky the clouds were speaking to themselves as thunder cracked out. But the rain was to late as I escaped back down the hill.

The cairn is 15 meters wide and has a ruined inner court. A lot of the kerb stones are still in situ and some stones seem to be the remnants of a double kerb but this is probably how they landed during robbing. The Canmore link has more details and figures. Funnily enough they mention the the cairn has been excavated, which proves that they have to up date their site as a much more recent dig has taken place, here and at the nearby Pitcarmick buildings.

Visited 25/7/2013.

Two bullaun stones within 50 metres of each other at Sroughan. Both formerly earthfast and pushed to one side, the first can be seen from the road, the second a little trickier to spot. Coming from Kilbride, after the left turn for Carrig (with its numerous megalithics, including a wedge tomb) the road veers to the left in an easterly direction as it heads towards Lacken. Immediately the road straightens out, the view over Blessington lake opens up and the two stones are in this first field on your right.

Down the hill in a corner is the first stone, a granite boulder a little over a metre cubed with some damage to it. The shallow basin is on top and is pretty forgettable in comparison to some of the stones in the vicinity.

The second stone is in a hedgerow in the next field down. It took quite a while to find and after a discouraging bang from the electric fence in the field (I assumed there would be no current as there was no livestock in the fields – bad mistake). It’s very overgrown with brambles and particularly vicious rose-hips. The stone seems to have been damaged when it was dug up – about a metre and a half long by a half a metre wide, with the large, more interesting, basin at the more hidden end. I didn’t feel up to doing battle with the plant-life so I’ll have to come back in the winter and see if I can get a better view of the stone and its basin.

Here’s a hint when going bullaun stone hunting in the summer – don’t wear shorts. Even though it looks from the map that the stone is easy to find, by the time you get to the bottom of the field, through the barbed wire fence, by the nettles, over the brambles and into the dry stream bed, you may not have any legs left, and what you do retain will be bitten to bits by little bastard bugs.

The Ballyknockan Wart Hole hasn’t been visited in quite a while, at least 10 years I’d say. We approached the site coming from Valleymount, through Ballyknockan itself, and on to the parking spot north-east of the village. If you look along the entrance to the parking spot in a straight line, the stone is directly in front of you about 400 metres down through 2 fields. However, there is an easier way – walk back towards the village to the next field on your right, climb the gate and go to the very bottom of this. There’s a barbed wire fence here and it’s overgrown behind it. The field boundary continues here and over that is a stream. About 40 metres further behind the fence is the stone.

When we did eventually find the granite stone it was overgrown with moss and brambles, and the basin was full. After a quick tidy up the large oval basin was revealed. The water and detritus in this stank to high heaven. I reckon it would cure more than just warts. It felt good to find this, a kind of triumph, as nobody else seems very interested in it and it’s in danger of being completely forgotten.

This is one of those sites which is a ‘must see’ if you’re in Northern Ireland and, although having seen pictures and read fieldnotes prior to our visit, I was quite taken aback by the size, variation, complexity and general weirdness of it all. It really is like no other place I’d visited before. I mean, sure, there are places on Dartmoor that encompass stone avenues, circles and cairns, but not on this scale, or of this complexity, that I’m familiar with. Seven circles, numerous cairns and possibly twelve stone rows – what was going on here? And, more intriguingly, what else was out there so far undiscovered, because apparently the site was uncovered by peat cutting in the 1940s and there may well be other artefacts still hidden beneath the peat nearby. I’d certainly put my money on it anyway.

When we arrived the weather was on the cusp of a mighty downpour, with massive threatening storm clouds above, and although we were lucky enough to avoid it, the sunny weather was slow to recover so we decided that we’d have to make a return visit in the hope of better light. Of course this also meant there was a dearth of other visitors so we had the place pretty much to ourselves. Over the course of the two visits (day 2 turned out to be perfect with bright sunlight and atmospheric clouds – my favourite!) I must have spent nearly three hours wandering around sucking up the exquisite beauty of the place with its sombre Sperrin Mountain backdrop. Circle E, the largest circle, with its interior scattering of smaller stones known as ‘the dragon’s teeth’ (and on this occasion charmingly interspersed with daisies). Circle G with its larger ‘entrance stones’, almost mirroring each other in appearance, though if you look carefully the right hand stone isn’t actually part of the circle at all. It’s the second stone of a tangential double row aligned roughly East North East, possibly towards the Summer Solstice sunrise, and, like many of the other avenues, the stones on the other side are all small, giving an odd lopsided appearance. The cairn adjacent to circles F and G is also interesting as it seems to be the only one here with a ring ditch with the alignment of smaller stones, just mentioned, pointing straight at it.

By chance on the first day I thought I’d discovered a small cist in a pile of stones near the end of the row coming from Circle B, but as it turned out it was just a small hidey hole in which was secreted a geocache, so if you’re there anytime in the near future you too can add your name in the notes. So, a justifiably ‘must see’ destination and one that’s certainly in my top ten sites visited.

My list of places to try and get to this weekend is long and always changing, I saw this one on the map and seeing as the last stone circle was in someone’s yard we hoped this one would be more agreeable. After an initial bit of a faff I realised where I was, damn, I thought, it’s the one in a garden center.We parked the car, as it’s a garden canter there is plenty of room, and we had a look at the signs on the gate, a please use other gate sign, Rottweilers work here, and stone circle please come in and have a look.
It was almost nine o’clock so I knew we’d have to come back tomorrow so we only had a glimpse over the gate and prepared to go. Just then a lady passed by the gate, she saw us and came over, hi, she said, are you alright. I gave back my hello, and said It’s a bit late I know but could we have a look at your stone circle ?
Course you can love, come in. Are you listening miserable B’stard, that’s how you treat guests.

We followed her through the little home owned garden center, passing what must have been the husband, he looked quizzically and she said its OK for them to have a quick look at the stone circle isn’t it ? it seemed a statement of fact rather a question. He took over and showed us the rest of the way. He told us it’s a six stone circle, they’re quite common round here, then he left us for more gardening activities.

The sun was just going down on another gorgeous day, diffused evening sun glow streamed in through the hedge and this stone circle is perfect, all of its stones are exactly where they should be. Eric played what we call obvious hide and seek, hidden , but in plain view, what ever keeps you quiet dude.
Sure it would be better in more conducive surroundings like on a slight hill with little tree cover, but if it wasn’t right where it is then there would not have been anyone around to restore my bit of faith in humanity.
We only had a quick fifteen minutes, but it was better than an hour at somewhere else , it was time to go, we passed by the gardening husband, we both waved and I thanked him with all the genuine warmth I could, we never saw his wife though, and thankfully the Rottweilers were out working elsewhere.
Thank you.

Visited 20th July 2013

Well, as I promised myself on the last visit, we wouldn’t be leaving it so long before coming back here again, and given the current run of good weather the plan of a picnic at the site seemed like a good one.

On arrival though we were a bit shocked to find the place almost totally overgrown. Ferns had completely shrouded the side stones, leaving only the tall front orthostats looming above the foliage, and the interior of the chamber was totally choked with vegetation to a height of about 4 feet high.

Not to be put off though I embarked on some emergency ‘gardening’, and after a good half hour of pulling up ferns and long grass by hand (had to leave the brambles though!) the place was looking a little more respectable, and the long awaited picnic was finally had.

It breaks my heart though to see such a fantastic place so uncared for, the rampant overgrowth not withstanding, I also removed various bits of rubbish from the chambers (it appears previous picnickers were not so conscientious about taking their rubbish away with them) and to top it all it seems to be somewhat of a popular spot for dog walkers to allow their pets to do their business.

Despite all of this the Bridestones remain undaunted, and a worthy place to visit, it just might be worth bringing some secateurs with you when you come!

A very nice stone is this, easily spotted from the road, easy parking too. We walked down to the stone whilst not in the same field as it, under the trees is a slight track that leads to a horse paddock. Climbing the fence we entered the field, a few photos later and Eric just had to have a look in the big wooden structure, that then turned out to be a horse paddock with horses very nosy ones. ok that’s close enough, a bit of evasive action and its back over the fence, guard horses ? what ever next.
Beautiful horses though, well cared for, but very big.

Took me a while to find this one, the map was a tad vague about it’s exact whereabouts, only showing that it was in some woods near the road. We walked about the trees, which was nice, until we got too far away from the road and turned back, we even had a look in some dense scrub, just in case.
Then I noticed that the stones on the map were also opposite a road entrance, which was slightly up the road a short distance, thirty yards maybe. We walked up and there they were, not in the trees, exactly, but a lovely little clearing just for the stones.
Ah ha ! said I, yaay said Eric, with what I assumed was less than enthusiasm. We lay down on the ground and stared up into the canopy above us, trees are good, a very close second or a tie though is stones. This four poster is still complete, all four are here, but three have fallen and seem still to be exactly where they fell. The only slight detraction is, and its really less than nothing , and yet still noteworthy, is the low tree stump in amongst the stones, it desperately wants to be mistaken for a stone, it can never be a tree again, so there’s not really much use in hanging about, couldn’t they have taken it down a bit lower. The site would look very different and better without it. But then it’s easily ignored and it will be gone eventually. ive said too much, it really isn’t much, and yet.

Twenty Schilling wood stone circle, Is there supposed to be a C in Shilling ? the map doesn’t seem to think so.
Very easy to find, and plenty of room to park in the lanes entry from the A 85.
This would have been a big four poster, the two that remain are large enough, the third stone fell around 1894, but they are far enough apart for one to recognise that this would have been much bigger than, say, Dalginross two miles east.
Blue skies, warm sunshine, good stones in an easy to get to pretty place, whats not to like ?

In Gilmerton, near Crieff, turn north onto the A 822, pass by the turn off for Monzie stone circle, pass through two Roman sites whilst passing the right B 8063 turn. A cairn, called The Giants grave is on the right somewhere we had a quick look, couldnt find it, but it was only a cursory glance. Just over a kilometer further north is Clach Ossian, it is easily spotted, due to its size and nearness to the road. Parking for one, maybe two.
The huge square monolith is maybe eight feet tall, and very very bulky. Some one with as much time as upper arm strength has hauled a couple of big boulders on to it’s summit.
Nick Brands folklore note suggests that there was some kind of cist under it, and that the big stone had to be moved to keep General Wades military road as straight as possible. I’d have liked to see that, were it true.

But the best thing about Clach Ossian is it’s surroundings, as pretty as a picture and as dreamy as a doorknob.....
sorry.
It really is lovely up here in Sma’ Glen, the sky is blue and the clouds are small white and fluffy.
The mountains look high and domineering though they aren’t as high as they get.
The river is, well, it’s less than rushing but more than burbling, and cooling just to look at.

Very nice place, big stone.

The stone stands rather sadly next to a council road depot full of piles of gravel etc. Although there are signs saying the depot is private, it makes a sensible place to park when closed, rather than the single track road.

The field it stands in is barbed wire fenced so close access would be a pain.

A fairly phallic stone from some angles.

Of all the chambered cairns in Scotland, why did he pick this one to name himself after. Who knows.
After the dusty and rickety ride down the badly laid track, we arrived eventually at this long chambered cairn and ruined four poster. At first glance it looks like there is only one stone left to the stone circle, but a stump still resides five meters away and a fallen stone is hiding just below the grass.

The cairn is very long and very thin, any visible chambers are slight and only just there. A small capstone is sited half way down near a three sided cist. The information board is very informative, as you’d expect. All in all, not the best of histories antiquities but it is in a very lovely part of Scotland, we only saw a few people and they were in the river. I kid you not.

Bless my soul !
This place has lent it’s name to one of our top contributors, so I thought I’d better go take a look, if only to see why he named himself after it.

After passing the long chambered cairn and very ruined four poster, this second ruined four poster was easy to spot off to the left less than a hundred yards from the road. And I use the word road as loosely as I can, it is a several mile long bone shaking, head hurting, filling dislodging nightmare, “oh god when will it end”.
Previous fieldnotes have described this as “Quite ruinous” and “sad remains” both statements are true, but I found it to be hugely enlightening and informative.
Yes, there are only two stones left of this stone circle, but they are poking out of what looks to be a small cairn, I did not know for sure that bona fide four posters are sometimes built into a cairn. Just the other day I was at Hafodygors wen, the only four poster in North Wales, but its position in a cairn casts some doubt over it for me. But now I know first hand that some four posters are in a cairn. But that is not all, both circles are near the meeting of mountain rivers, both sites are in the valley between big mountains.
It was a revelation.
And a good site too, even if you’ve never been anywhere near Conway.

Still see no reason to have your user name named after here though, no rock art, ruined stone circles, and a slightly less than impressive chambered cairn. Oh well who cares.

When I first got Copes big orange book it opened my eyes to a larger and deeper world, I could have said with absolute confidence that there’s no more than a dozen stone circles in Britain. Ignorant beyond belief.
After seeing the first few in his book that were closest to me I knew that i’d have to go to each and every one, no matter how far away they were. Then of course came Burl, and all those cairns and standing stones we can see on the map, enough there to last a life time of stone hunting, but the big orange book comes first, apart from some Aberdeenshire sites and far away island sites these are my last Scottish mainland sites. So together with the Falls of Acharn, Monzie inspired this trip. For this little circle, with stones missing ive driven two hundred and fifty miles, or there about.

Just north east of Crieff (Obi wan kenobi’s birth place) on the A85 in Gilmerton turn north onto the A822 and then almost immediately left again onto a minor road, again almost immediately look left for a big gate house leading to Monzie castle. Parking was obtained down the road from the gatehouse on a grass verge. Bikes out and one minute later we are at the stone circle.
The stones are hidden in long grass at this time of year (July) but after rolling around on the floor like you were on fire they all become tickety boo, that is, we can see them.
The circle is like a small Moel ty Uchaf, made of largish boulders, a few are missing it’s true but it doesn’t detract from the site much at all. One of the stones looks like a recumbent, that is, its a long stone, but its upper surface is nicely cup marked.
Which brings us to the star pupil here, the heavily carved outlying stone, it’s almost flush with the ground, and we had to clear the long grasses away before we could see it properly. The rock art didn’t show up very well at first, but luckily for once I came prepared, two bottles of water later and we could see what we were looking at, cups, rings, dumbbells all showing up neatly, it made a very pretty picture.

Also worthy of note is the nearness of a standing stone just a couple of hundred yards away down the track towards the castle, it would be criminal not to take a look.

If you go to the local municipal buildings in Creiff and look up unusual laws and charters, you’ll find it’s actually illegal to not visit this stone if your visiting the circle and rock art.
But it is no hardship, it is only a minutes bike ride down the lane towards the castle.
The stone, about five foot tall, has weird striations, strange patterns on it from when the rock was formed. The world has been doing rock art for billions of years.
Most of the surroundings here are agricultural in nature, but the hills are not far away, The Knock of Creiff is very close, and off in the distant west are the mountains that surround Loch Earn, like Ben Vorlich and Beinn Leabhain.
Remember if your here to see the circle it is an offence not to go and see the Witches stone, which stone , that one there.
Sorry, that was lie.

This is a big cairn, found in the corner of a field just a few meters from the road, you cant miss it as you head up hill for the Fowlis wester stones.

I parked near the bus stop on the A85.

There are places where you can still see the cairn material used in its construction, but mostly its all grassed over and covered in nettles and fallen branches. Around it is much field clearance.
But one stone looks to be intentionally stood upright, just over three feet high it is a mini menhir, were there more ?

A good cairn

Just to re-iterate whats been said before, there is no where to park. I squeezed into the space before a gate and ran over to the stones. Just a quick five minutes, is all.
First is the big split boulder with a couple of faint cup marks, which I couldn’t see. As I walked round it a Hare darted out from it’s hiding place, startling me in the process.
The two standing stones are close to each other, no more than ten yards. Around six feet tall, one pointy one flat topped. A small stream runs by them but it was all dried up when I was there. It was very hot and sweaty.
Quickly back to the car and away , no one bothered no one any the wiser. You might not be so lucky.
Then again you might.

“There is little here to excite the megalithic heart, on the dreariness of the moor of Ardoch”. wrote Aubrey Burl in his guide to stone circles. I’m somewhat inclined to agree having now been there myself. But don’t let that stop you from calling in, I didn’t.
I parked to the east of the circles. There is no where good to park on the road, I opened the gate, drove through and on to the moor, not far, just by the gate. It was hot and sweaty, walking two draggy dogs and with Eric on his bike we headed for the big stone we could see on the horizon. The still standing menhir is over six feet tall, hard by it is a stone circle with a small kerb cairn inside it. Someone has added stones to it, making it look less like a stone circle and more like the footing of a sheep fold.
Just to the west is another menhir, this time fallen, just a few meters from the lazing stone is another stone circle. This one is less fiddled with, though three stones at least are missing and all the stones are down. It still looks like a good little stone circle, re-erection might be worth it here.
All the time we were here a Curlew hassled us, trying to keep us away from it’s nest site.
Which we were keen to do.

So....... Not a brilliant site, but one to see if your inclined to make a list of places to see.