Latest Fieldnotes

Whilst not criticising the directions given by previous contributors, as someone who nearly always manages to misread even the simplest of OS maps and doesn’t go in for GPS-type devices, I thought that I could share my experience of visiting this wonderful circle last Saturday in the hope that future searchers might be aided in locating it. Even though I’ve driven all the way from London to visit the sites on Lewis and Orkney, somehow arriving at this site after trekking across what seemed like three or four miles of moorland struck me as a much greater endeavour. Ok, the weather was blissful and the ground underfoot mostly dry, but there were still some tricky sections requiring careful navigation around boggy patches where the path seemed to disappear.
The main thing for me was locating a suitable starting-point for the walk. A local recommended parking in a layby near the entrance to Olditch Farm halfway between two bridle-paths both of which lead up to the moor. A note about the layby; it’s on the left as you drive up from the south to Sticklepath but you could go by without seeing it; you have to reverse into it (’you turn in on yourself’ the local had helpfully observed).
The southerly bridlepath (ie the one behind you as you park which we came back on) leads up to a point not far from Cosdon Hill stone rows from which the path then goes all the way to the circle, with necessary diversions round the boggiest bits. Even though it had been dry recently, sections of the initial path up to the moor were still very wet whereas the northerly bridlepath was much drier and it brings you out on to a path which leads up to the top of Cosdon Hill from which you can go straight down to the circle (in theory; we missed the top, following some other walkers, and ended up going down the side of the hill to the stone rows and thence to the circle). Both bridlepaths involve steady uphill climbs, not too strenuous but
with stops and diversions it was about two/two and a half hours each way, echoing what others have said.
The first sighting, coming over the shoulder of Little Hound Tor ( after another unplanned diversion off the path to avoid some bogs) and seeing the outlier first, was a genuinely exhilarating moment and if like me you’re a bit misanthropic about sharing your visits to sites like this with others (apart from your own companions) then you’re unlikely to be too worried about intruders at this place.
Magical, everything I wanted and more.

I thought it was going to be good, but this site still took my breath away (and I don’t mean from the climb up to it) and made an instant jump into my “top 10” (dolmens, I can’t judge site types against each other).
If you are visiting the stunning Grotte de Niaux, this is only 15 mins or so away ....

South of Niaux, head to the village of Vicdessos. Don’t cross the bridge into the village itself – head straight on and up. (The village is lovely, by the way, with a town square complete with bandstand and bunting, and a couple of picnic benches along the riverside.) This road has been used as part of the Pyrenean stages of the Tour de France .... hence steep in places with switchback turns! The dolmen is sightposted from Vicdessos, and there’s enough room for a couple of small cars to park at the bottom of the track that leads to it.

There are some uneven steps and potentially a bit of a scramble to get to the top – but wow. And wow again.

A substantial chunk of glacial granite, in the most stunning spot, with views over snowcapped mountains in France, Andorra and Spain.

I was expecting this excellent little hill fort to be anything but the obscure eyrie it would appear to be, at least assuming my experience is anything to go by. Set above (a tiny length of) the western shore of Loch Ness, the site overlooks the ‘Great Glen Way’ as it contrives to ascend from near water’s edge to the small hamlet of Grotaig, the latter complete with large car park and an establishment selling – and presumably making – pottery. Likely to be pretty busy, then? The immediate area certainly is, long distance walkers trudging uphill, heads down with seemingly not one iota of interest in their surroundings, to link with the minor road which doubles as the path to Drumnadrochit. Dun Scriben is not. Busy, that is. No, not at all.

The first task upon arrival along the aforementioned road is to work out exactly where the tree-clad ancient fortress is located; the second, a much more difficult challenge, is to figure out a way to ascend it without being lampooned into buying a vase or two... lovely as I’m sure they are. The Grotaig Burn duly frustrates any attempt from the north or west... and a southern approach would seem to entail descending toward the great loch below. So, the east it is. It is immediately apparent that this is clearly not a very good idea, a great earthy chasm excavated by running water over the course of goodness-knows-how-long isolating hill from path. But since the clock is ticking on for what was supposed to be a quick ‘n’ easy visit, I conclude that I should have a go regardless. How hard can it be? Erm, to be honest it’s not to be recommended from this direction – very steep, very unstable and there appeared to be a path coming up from the south as I gained the crest – but there you are. The final ascent to the summit is, if anything, worse and I resort to hauling myself up with the help of tree trunks. My Lord Greystoke I am not, so my poor knees take the brunt. Yeah, this had better be worth it, or.... or nothing, I guess.

It therefore comes as a very welcome surprise to find the tiny wooded summit defended by the remains of a substantial dry stone wall, most impressive upon the western flank where courses of original facing can still be seen in situ. The defences are also pretty upstanding to the south, whilst the extreme angle of the plunging hillside to the east and (approx) north might well have called for less original stonework upon those arcs anyway, promontory fort-style? Although the enclosing woodland restricts views, except toward the shapely ridge of Meall Fuar-mhonaidh to approx south-west, Loch Ness can still be seen stretching away to apparent infinity occupying the Great Glen. Nice strategic siting for a hill fort. Iconic, too. Assuming anyone knows it’s here! Or cares, for that matter. Yeah, the thought occurs that – ‘possibly’ – more people have seen poor old Nessie in recent times than have viewed the ancient defences of Dun Scriben hidden away, ironically in plain sight, upon this hill top.

I am more than glad I did. However... surely... there must be an easier way up? And down.

A stunning spot! There’s plenty of parking just opposite the cave, and the day we were there, there were people bungee jumping from the outcrop.
The footpath into the cave takes you to the visitors’ centre, a strange contrast between hot sunshine with birdsong, into the cool with the roar of the water almost dizzy-making.
The link has details of the visit – as the cave art here is not visible to the public, we just chilled out on the grass for a while.
A great picnic spot for a day out in this area – there’s plenty to see!
Oh – and the road to the town actually goes through the cave too .....

Situated south of, and well signposted from, Tarascon-sur-Ariège, up a single track lane from the village of Niaux. Try not to meet a coach coming up on the way back down, as we did – it was a rather long reverse to get back to the car park for passing purposes!
We had pre-booked, and almost all of those who turned up “on spec” for the only English tour that day were turned away. The visitors’ centre is not open all the time (shop and tickets) but the first floor had an open air exhibition of the history of the cave (boards all in French) and of cave paintings of the era across Europe. There are also public toilets hidden behind the shop.
We arrived a bit before our tour time, to take in the spectacular view, and also to do a quick change – stout walking footwear is essential, and we had be also advised to wear warm clothes.
Please note – there is no photography, or light other than the torches supplied, allowed in the cave.
Our guide explained the cave system and which bits are accessible – the tour is basically to the Salon Noir (Black Chamber) as other parts of the system are beyond underground lakes.
The caves had been known about by locals for a significant time – graffitti (rather elegant script!) has been dated back to 1602 – but their importance and age only recognised in the late 18C. There are dot-and-dash finger paintings before the Salon Noir, but the main images are all found along one side of the salon. And they are incredible! Analysis of the drawings shows that crude brushes were used for some, and the drawings were made without hesitancy – just amazing for art that has been carbon dated to 14,000 years old, that’s late in the last ice age!
The majority of the images are horses, bison and ibex. The cave’s unique item – a stoat – is past a lake and hence not part of the tour.
Tour time – over an hour. The cave floor is wet and slippery in places, you have to duck and negotiate a couple of narrow passages, and there’s a climb up a sand dune – so for adults of reasonable mobility.
Highly recommended!

Failed visit 7.7.13

We parked up outside the entrance to Craig-y-Nos Country Park (room for several cars) and Karen stayed with the children who were asleep in the car. I crossed the road and saw a public footpath sign for Open Hill Heritage/Geological Walk.
That’s handy I thought and headed up the path.

You soon come to a few information boards and warning signs about staying to the path (indicated by white topped posts) to avoid falling to your death off the side of a cliff.

Interestingly enough you soon come to a sign giving (basic) information about prehistoric standing stones and next to it a large (approx 2m) modern standing stone and a second stone (same size) laying on wooden rollers showing how the stones may have been transported. So far, so good.

I continued along the increasingly steep path and up through a wood. I eventually came out onto open hillside and continued on up. By now the path was very steep and I had to stop several times to catch my breath (not getting any younger you know).
Ahead of me I saw in the distance what I thought was the stone row but as I got closer it became obvious that this was only a natural rock formation.

I continued up to the summit of the hill and crossed over the several outcrops of rock looking for the stone row – all to no avail. I had promised Karen ‘I wouldn’t be long’ as the weather was hot and I knew the children wouldn’t stay asleep for long. I looked again at my map and the approximate location of the stone row compared with the Country Park. It then dawned on me that I had climbed the wrong hill – Doh!

I looked across and could see the hill I should have climbed. Just as I was contemplating climbing over the barbed wire fence and heading across the hillside I received a text.
‘Sophie awake, screaming, need you back NOW’

Well, that was the end of that. I trudged back down the hill bemoaning my lack of sense of direction and missing out on seeing the stone row. On the way back down a passed a couple taking a breather on the way up. As these were at least half my age I didn’t feel so bad for feeling knackered myself.

Although I had largely wasted my time I did get to see some cracking views of the Beacons from the top of Open Hill and did see the ‘reconstructed’ standing stones which I would have otherwise missed.

By the time I eventually arrived back at the car both Sophie and Dafydd were awake and Karen didn’t seem too happy. Still, our next stop was a picnic at the Maen Mawr and I was confident moral would soon pick up!

One for an obvious re-visit. This time going up the right hill!

Visited 6th July 2013

This is the first time we’ve parked up at the Two Pillars for a visit to the Druid’s Circle, and with the route taking you right past Red Farm it seemed rude not to visit.

Opting for a bit of brazen trespassing, we let ourselves in through the gate to the field housing the stones of the Red farm circle. With no-one else around, other than a few hot and bothered sheep looking on from their shelter in the shade of the field walls, and a line of trees screening you from the nearby farmhouse, it didn’t feel like we were intruding too much.

The four remaining stones are tiny, but provide a clearly defined arc allowing you to image the size the circle would once have been, and thanks to our ovine friends the short clipped grass made the dainty stones much easier to see than many similar circles in more wild landscapes, like nearby Cerrig Pryfaid.

We spent a few minutes taking in the position of the circle, the hill of Cefyn Maen Amor, looming significantly in the background, topped tantalisingly with what look like huge stones, although having read Shropshire Traveller and Postie’s notes on the site I guess they must be natural. Either way we don’t have time to explore that way today, and the very fine menhir in the next door field was calling to us, so we bid farewell to the ‘mountain men’ and take our leave.

Travellers seeking to be overawed by towering ancient ramparts should perhaps look elsewhere .... since here at Craig Mony it is the natural defences – the perpendicular rock face, the wooded hillside plunging steeply to valley bottom – that impress the visitor. Or at least this one. However that is not to say artificial defences are entirely absent, the fragmentary remains of a dry stone wall still to be seen running across the neck of this promontory, isolating the rocky eminence from the hinterland to the west. But, as far as I’m aware, that’s yer lot (and unfortunately I left the site without taking any images, I guess due to the pretty unpredictable weather.... a poor excuse, to be honest).

Nevertheless I would highly recommend a visit to Craig Mony, the natural aesthetics a joy to behold. The enclosure is depicted upon the 1:50K OS map as a ‘viewpoint’, which, I confess, was what caught my eye in the first place. I approached from the south, a road signposted for ‘Divach Falls’ (incidentally well worth a look for aficionados of plunging cataracts, having seen them myself a decade back) heading approx south-west from Drumnadrochit toward Glen Coiltie. A little before the bridge carrying said road across the River Coiltie it is possible to park at the start of a ‘forestry road’ to the right, overlooked by houses to the north. I head uphill toward these and, keeping to their left – and to the right of a reservoir – follow the ridge to its highest northern point. Well eventually, anyway. Which is what matters.

The promontory is heavily wooded; hence I initially mistake the remnants of defensive cross wall for a field wall. As you do. Clarity is not forthcoming as I ascend to the summit of the enclosure, either, it being difficult to decipher whether the numerous rocky crags were utilised for defence or not. Then, however, I arrive at the eastern extremity of the site, crags falling vertically to forestry, and decide to sod all that and just enjoy the moment. Yeah, the occupiers of this ancient enclosure chose well since it was clearly more or less unassailable from any direction save the west, that being duly defended by the dry stone wall. For me the piece de resistance, the crowning glory, is a fabulous vista toward Urquhart Bay and Loch Ness. Yeah, that’ll do nicely. Well worth periodic pastings from fast moving weather fronts ushered along Glen Urquhart by a pretty substantial wind. No point in removing waterproofs, there’ll be another along in a minute.....

Truly there are worse places to ride the storm than an ancient enclosure overlooking Loch Ness.

Heading west from Drumnadrochit along Glen Urquhart the A83, following the course of the River Enrick, is obliged to veer sharply north a little before Loch Meiklie. The movement is significant, although a traveller without the benefit of OS map or local knowledge will probably be unaware that an ancient fortification was once constructed upon the hill towering to the east, presumably to exploit the natural protection according by the looping river, not to mention exact a toll or two in the manner of a Rhineland castle. Such is the density of the woodland cloaking An Torr, obscuring all form, all detail.

Dawn breaks at Lochletter Wood, my overnight stop below and immediately west of the site, rays from the rising sun streaming evocatively through the trees rendering any thoughts of a ‘lie in’ less attractive than they would normally be. Looking toward An Torr I’m intrigued by what might reside upon the hilltop.... enough to decide upon a quick visit before breakfast. The ascent is very, very steep – a rude awakening, you might say – but mercifully truncated enough to see me standing at the summit in relatively short order. First impressions initially appear somewhat mutually exclusive.... ‘there’s not much left here’..... and.... ‘wow, what a magical place!’ Further deliberation, as I regain my breath, reconciles the apparent paradox. Although the hill fort’s univallate(?) defences appear to my layman’s eyes more pronounced, more powerful – particularly to the north – than suggested by RCAHMS reports, the surviving archaeology to be found here would surely fail to set the heart racing of none but the most obsessed modern antiquarian. So, not much left then. Check.

And yet.... despite woodland ensuring An Torr is certainly no great viewpoint (save to the north-east, to be fair) ... sunlight filtering through the foliage, the sweet aroma of damp vegetation hanging in the cold, early morning air.... these natural phenomena combine with others, far less definable – if at all – swirling around in introspection, to arrive at the inescapable conclusion. Yeah, what a magical place this is! Worth delaying the Coco Pops an hour or so for.

The name of this site is definitely Ses Roques Llises and not Lisses. Sounds something like Lyeeses, although English has no exact similar double ll sound.

I visited with a Menorcan friend who told me the name simply means the sliced and squared rocks. I was told it is a word sometimes used to describe the limestone blocks quarried at the Ciutadella end of the island. I suppose the description given to Jane, smooth flat rocks, also applies.

This is one of nine similar holed tombs. One is in Mallorca, one in Formentera and famously four in Menorca. There have been found a further three in recent years, one in Mallorca and two in Menorca.

The tomb is much earlier than the Talayotic culture which built the sanctuary of Sa Comerma de Sa Garita which sits in the same field. The holed tomb dates from the earliest settlements, probably about 2000 BC.

The Wiltshire Magazine published an paper by Dr Phené read to the British Archaeological Association at devizes, 1880.

In it Dr Phené describes some of the monuments of Menorca, none of which had been documented anywhere in print before. He was specifically tracing trilithons as at Stonehenge, from Africa across Europe.

I believe he was shown Sa Comerma de Sa Garita, which Dr Phené describes as having a square plan. This is the only site in Menorca which seems to fit the bill as most are horse shoe-shaped and not bounded by open trilithon-style stones.

Here is an extract from the paper:

“Of the extraordinary remains in Minorca we have absolutely no historic information; the masonry indicates that they are Cyclopean of the oldest type, while that of the Nurhags of Sardinia, with which many suppose they agree, is often in courses, of wrought or well-trimmed stone. The grand feature of the Nurhage is also wanting in the Baleares, viz., the spiral staircase or ramp, which is found also in the brocks of Scotland. The plan of the grandest structure in Minorca is square at the base, and forms a pyramid, of which there is no example in Sardinia. In this building the angles are rounded, as before described.

There is historic reference to the Nurhags of Sardinia, and even their builder, lolaus, is mentioned by Diodorus Siculus, but the antiquity of the remains in Minorca is lost in the mist of ages, or referred to the time of the very oldest of the mythological deities,
Saturn.

I find a quotation from Homer, and also from Pindar, which I have had not had time to verify, that there was a place in the Balearides, supposed to have been the palace of Saturn. I can imagine no place more suitable for this description than what I have called the grand temple.”

There is now an organisation that manages many of the sites in Menorca, with an office in Mahon – Mao. As a result many of the popular sites now ask you to pay a few euros.

I visited in July 2013 and on Mondays access to the sites are free, so you might want to bear this in mind.

If you visit here, be sure to continue for about 750 metres down the lane to Sa Comerma de sa Garita and Ses Roques Llises. I put a map on the page for Na Comerma, which is more commonly called Sa Comerma.

themodernantiquarian.com/site/10032/na_comerma.html

This looks like a relatively easy place to get to if you know what you’re doing. We didn’t. We figured that it must be close to the river, according to the OS map, but, having parked up and set off down the track towards the water it soon became evident that there was no real pathway to follow and the conifers here were very dense and fallen trunks were covered in thick, luxurious moss giving the whole place a look like a children’s illustration of primeval forest. A fleeting glimpse of a stegosaurus wouldn’t have surprised me.

Fighting our way out, chased by a velociraptor, we headed back to the van only to discover a discreet footpath just behind it. Duhhh! At the end of it was a sunny woodland clearing with a lovely standing stone, almost 2m in height, surrounded by a rough circle of about 8 or 9 smaller stones. There may have been more but the grass was quite thick and dense. Having looked at my copy of Burl I now know there were and that this is quite a complex little site comprising more than one oval ring, stone alignments and a possible cairn, a bit like a poor relative to the nearby mind-blowing Beaghmore site. I also realise now that it’s referred to as ‘Davagh Lower’ (Eds – you may want to revise my naming?), which means presumably that there’s a Davagh Upper (or what I’ve named Davagh Forest).

Slightly to the north of the standing stone is what I took to be a ruined cairn, but again this seems to be in dispute as it could just be a ruined stone hut. Whatever it might be, it’s still a very peaceful tranquil spot and well worth a visit.

Upon (reluctantly) leaving Kinchyle of Dores the weather turns progressively more violent – unpredictably so – as afternoon merges, almost imperceptibly, to the onset of a typically prolonged highland evening. No rest for the antiquarian traveller in these parts, it has to be said. So, where to next? Well, the map depicts a ‘fort upon Ashie Moor which, as I recall from TSC’s photos when browsing TMA, appeared worth a visit. Yeah, Caisteal an Dunriachaidh. The assumption is duly proved to be valid as I approach and park at the B862’s junction with the (even more) minor road bisecting the moor to the north-east.

Initially the location strikes me as a forlorn, desolate spot, the isolated crag bearing ancient fortifications looming above the long, tussocky grassland of the moor as if a solitary ship overwhelmed by the vastness of the unforgiving ocean. Suddenly, however, a great fracture is rent in the jet black cloudscape, sun rays streaming through to flood the landscape with light, illuminating all in a golden glow. Hey, who turned on the lights? Not to mention the waterworks, a front of hail arriving out of nowhere to give the windscreen a severe lashing. Perfect conditions to visit a hillfort and lose yourself in the melodrama! It is a short walk to the south-western corner of the site, a correspondingly easy ascent to view the drystone walls – or at least what remains of them – that still girdle this flank of the crag. These are quite impressive; not overwhelmingly so, but still substantial enough to impart a sense of having been built to last. Clearly they must have done the job required of them back in the day when people actually lived up here. Much more striking, however... of far greater and lasting impact upon the memory... are the defences Mother Nature saw fit to assign to the eastern flank of the fortress. Here a steeply angled ‘wall’ of naked rock plunges to the soggy surface of Ashie Moor below forming a quite extraordinary natural ‘glacis’ rampart. How good is that? Made to order.

Conditions remain somewhat, er, volatile, the light show created, choreographed and orchestrated by duelling sun and cloud mantle culminating in a succession of multiple rainbows arching overhead, arguably – no, surely? – one of Nature’s most fragile, insubstantial, yet nevertheless finest creations. All too soon they are gone, superseded by further hail fronts sweeping along a glowering Loch Ness to the west. For me it is times such as this when Loch Ness, otherwise a pretty benign, massive body of water, lives up to iconic status accorded it.... a gigantic rift in the very fabric of Scotland brooding beneath similarly immense cracks in the sky. A magnificent symmetry. Perhaps only Turner could’ve conveyed the scene in any meaningful manner.

Curiously such ‘Wagnerian’ imagery seems to harmonise with more random, abstract thoughts generated as I sit near the modern cairn crowning the highest point of the enclosure... clansmen fleeing the not so distant battlefield of Culloden, plaid discarded in their desperation to escape, perhaps turning for last ditch stands against pursuing government troops here? Yeah, truly monumental events occurred in this corner of Scotland, events with far reaching consequences which sometimes seem to have permeated the very landscape itself. An illusion, no doubt, but what is the past if not to help us focus upon what may come?

Caisteal an Dunriachaidh is a good place to linger for a while.

Once you’ve reached the village of Garnfadryn, there is plenty of space to park near the sadly forlorn looking chapel.

Follow the marked path and after about 200 yds keep straight on instead of bearing right. After that it’s just a steepish climb. Tread carefully! I saw a common lizard sunning itself on a rock on the edge of the path (it wasn’t too bothered about me).

The views from the summit are spectacular in all directions. The highlights for me were the round stone walls of the hut dwellings – still intact. Very similar to Tre’r Ceiri, not on such a scale but wonderful nonetheless.

Soak it up!

And so to Seefin once again… carrying an extra 3 stone more than the last time I was here. There’s a few places on the way up where I thought I might not make it. Dear me, I felt a bit of a disgrace. Was it enough to make me do something about it? Well, I’ve tried over the last while to get out there at least once a week, but Seefin is a challenge, and it’s not the gravest of challenges either, so while I was glad to be back, I looked over at the cairn on Sorrel Hill and promised myself that I’d ‘do’ it yet!

We had looked back down the hill at some hillwalkers below us and determined that we wouldn’t be overtaken – no pasaran! Arriving at mama Seefin I dropped my bag and headed inside, climbing down through the collapsed chamber roof and into the passage itself. I get emotional here, enclosed in the dampness of this slowly crumbling sepulchre, the beauty of the corbelling in the subsidiary chambers and at the passage entrance, before the roof rises to the imagined height of the collapsed central chamber.

I’d fretted before about Seefin, threatened by well-meaning but misguided excavators, as well as insensitive barbecuers lighting their fire on the sillstone. A short conversation with the hillwalkers who told us of the time they arrived to find some arseholes on their scramblers riding all over the tomb didn’t re-assure me.

We had a good root around this time. The opportunity for vaginal re-birth at the entrance to the tomb is something I never pass up, even in my newly more portly state. I did think ‘what if i get stuck?’, all the way up here etc. but still squeezed through.

The complexity of the construction of Seefin never ceases to amaze me, and that it was done at such a height all those 5 thousand years ago adds to its mystique. The commitment of the builders to construct and leave behind this memorial, this intricate structure, and then to maybe seal it up and leave it there, on top of the hill at Scurlocksleap, says something about our ancestors and their way of life that leaves me wanting to find out more and more and more.

Rathnew is a large rath, with a deep embankment and fosse and a smaller, conjoined section about half its size on its western quarter. Not much remains of the houses that once stood here, but there is much of intrigue to make the megalithic adventurer happy.

In the western ‘annex’ is a circle of low stones, mostly embedded into the ground, some proud of the ground by about a maximum of 20 cms. It’s about 5 metres in diameter with a standing stone at its centre. This stone is about three quarters of a metre tall and is a place for offerings, coins of varying worth on the day I visited. MacAllister notes it as a “dolmen-like stone”. Like a few places on Uisneach that day, it had a magical air about it. It also must be pointed out that the ring is probably modern, as mentioned elsewhere and it doesn’t appear in MacAllister and Praeger’s plan.

The annex has two entrances, at the west and south. The defensive works here are impressive – an outer bank, a fosse (now darkened and alley-like under the covering trees) and an inner bank. The fosse continues onto the bigger part of the rath at the north, but starts to fill up fairly quickly in this sector.

Slightly north of east, there is an opening, with two seeming jambstones or gate stones. South of the entrance the fosse clears out again. Inside this large rath there are the remains of habitation structures, one of which MacAllister and Praeger excavated and left with quite an extensive plan. In its western sector, before it meets the annex, is a souterrain, now filled in and inaccessible. Pity.

This is a fascinating place, somewhere I’d like to explore in greater depth, and intend to do so now that I have the plans of the place.

Poor Kinchyle of Dores.... hasn’t had a good press, has it? Well, what there is of it. The ‘press’, that is.... since there’s quite a bit of the monument left. Too overgrown, difficult of access. Oh come on gentlemen! Greywether and The Burl clearly did not take to this pretty well preserved clava, but I beg to differ. Aldourie was the site pre-selected for a visit upon my (pretty hurried, poorly researched) area notes; however the word ‘relocated’ caught the eye. Er, on second thoughts, no thanks. Kinchyle of Dores it is, then.

The reason for such dismissive obscurity is pretty obvious... if not understandable... upon arrival at apparently the right co-ordinates the clava cairn is very much conspicuous by its absence, hidden away in a woodland copse and protected from the casual glance by a lethal shield of gorse. Yeah, painful it might well have been, too. But having driven a not insignificant number of miles to be in the area I duly stick on the over trousers to protect the bits. Job done. It is possible to park more or less opposite at the entrance to Ballindarroch off the B862 (I left a note within the windscreen in courtesy) and, in retrospect, head through the field gate and cross the fence to the left if you so desire.

As noted by Greywether five relatively large stones still stand around an admittedly incomplete, but not inconsiderable kerb. According to Burl the tallest upright, to the south, is a full 6ft high, which seemed about right. Funnily enough. A towering front of hail clouds, a natural cathedral of vapour advancing with unnerving haste across a pristine blue sky, for me summed up the appeal of Kinchyle of Dores.... by all accounts, set just off the busy B862, the vibe here should be rubbish. But it is not. Far from it. Noise is minimal, visitors even less. Nature has reclaimed the environs, no holds barred. However the centre of the monument is carpeted by lush grass. I recline against an upright, brace myself against the periodic onslaught... and revel in the blinding light that follows, the atmosphere so clear and fresh I can literally taste it, colours so vibrant. It seems cremated bones were recovered from this loction. Now I won’t for a moment pretend I could ‘feel’ any presence. Don’t believe in that. However I am comfortable here. At peace, albeit in an invigorated, challenged way, something I do not see as a contradiction. Perhaps ‘content’ is a better adjective, the experience ‘life affirming’? Yeah, that sounds about right. An oasis of calm within the eye of the storm.

Come to think of it what better memorial to the ancestors could there be?

Have wanted to visit this place for some time and today was the day.
“Clearwell Caves are part of an extensive natural cave system that became partially filled with iron ore 180,000,000 years ago. No one knows when mining for iron ore first began in the Forest of Dean, but the Caves are one of the earliest mines in the British Isles, begun well over 4,000 years ago, when they were first worked for coloured iron oxide or ochres to use as pigment.” (information taken from Visitor’s Guide)
The temperature inside the caves is 10 degrees (which is also the temperature at which spring water emerges from the ground) so take an extra layer if you go on a warm day. We only went to the upper level which goes down 100 feet – it is possible to descend to a much deeper level but this requires hard hats, protective clothing and a caving guide. The caves are a series of caverns known as churns, linked together by tunnels, the largest of which is Pillar Churn named after a large column of stone in the centre. The reservoir in this cavern controls the water that seeps through a disused shaft in the roof. The large flat roof is composed of a very solid rock known as Whitehead Limestone, referred to as ‘lidstone’ because it forms the roof of most of the caverns. There is a fine example of 20th century cave art on the wall in this cavern – a skeleton painted by students in the 1960s.
Clearwell Caves are home to a variety of bats including the greater horseshoe, natterers, and long-eared but the most numerous is the lesser horseshoe (ref: Visitor’s Guide). None made an appearance today. Also found here is the ‘Meta menardi’ or European Cave Spider (an orb-weaving spider) – didn’t see one of those either.

Just as fascinating is the nearby ‘Secret Forest’ which is full of ‘scowles’ ie ravines and rock formations overhung with the tree roots of ancient yews. Thought to be where iron mining began, just outside the wood there are some replica Iron Age round houses which are definitely worth a visit. secretforest.co.uk/
A short distance up the road is Puzzle Wood, similar to the Secret Forest but far more disorientating, like caves above rather than below ground, very twisty and dark (believed to have inspired Tolkien’s Middle Earth) again the temperature dropped considerably – almost like being in caves.
Unfortunately, today I left my camera at home so no photos except the ones on my friend’s camera which I don’t have access to as yet.

With a Sunday afternoon free of hassles we headed into the Peak District, no plan, and not really knowing where to head for, then it came to me, or rather I came to it, Hollins hill round barrow was still awaiting my imminent arrival, honestly it’s taken me ages to get me back side up here.

We parked on the track to Stoop farm north of Hollins hill, i’m not sure if it is a recognised parking place but there was three cars there already so that was good enough for me, we abandoned the motor, and started the long walk, the green mile, the grueller.
The footpath passes by just to the west of Hollins hill, but I was sure a quick jog to the top would go unremarked and unnoticed, and so it did, we had the hill top to ourselves, but not the whole valley there was a number of walkers dotted about, walking no less.

The barrow is very noticeable on its hill top perched right on the edge, from many places all about the valley. But I was still glad to see that this is a big barrow, despite the bloody great hole in it. Dotted about the interior are a number of stones, at the bottom of the hole is a rectangular depression, possibly the upper half of the rock cut grave mentioned by Sir Stubob. It’s a good barrow worth an hour of any ones time, but
throw into the mix one of the best views of one of the best places in the whole Peak District and you’ve got a recipe for a whole afternoon here.
Foremost is the wonderful Chrome hill, right behind that is Parkhouse hill, these are both ancient coral reefs, not our kind of ancient but the real kind of ancient, lifted high in the air by magic or the will of God. Next door to Parkhouse hill is Hatch-a-way hill with another good barrow on it, behind that is Hitter hill and beyond that High Wheeldon hill with the now closed Fox hole cave.
There are more barrows and more caves around here, a whole day could be easily spent here, ive spent three days here, over the last eight years, and come again I will.

Fabulous.

This mind visit will be a pleasant memory of the moors plus friends and unexplained enigmatic stuff, no ghost stuff of course, just a rectangular megalithic enclosure that defies explanation sitting in a bowl of hills.
Where to start, we met at the Trippett stone circle and followed Roy (Sanctuary) in the car and we kept turning right, again and again through tiny foxglove filled Cornish lanes slowly circling the moor, until we came to a track way that reached up to a ridge. The cars bumped up this disintegrating road, just below the ridge was a scatter of rocks, and here we later found Bronze Age cists, and apparently settlement sites according to the map.

Reaching the top of the ridge, we looked down to a small hamlet of three houses, crossing the small rocky beck that tumbled down, the cars were parked on a small green plateau, next to a land rover sporting the title Cornish Heritage and we were to meet the foreign tourists and their guide at the site later on. Even the vast empty spaces of the moor have life and visitors.

Walking uphill past the inevitable cattle, sheep and ponies with foals, we could see the grassy outlines of KAH in the distant a short walk of about 15 minutes. Climbing the stile and the first feeling is enclosure, you are surrounded for three quarters of the way by the rise of hills, and over in the distance behind a thick swathe of dark green forestry firs is the Stripples stone circle/henge monument which we did not see but is the only henge monument to be found in Cornwall at this time.

The large untidy bank that surrounds the stones, causing many of them to keel over, and the walking path below the bank is difficult with great tussocks of grass and hidden stones. The theory is that this large enclosure was dug out maybe for water. (who knows) and the central area is boggy, reeds outline the boggy area and cotton grass was in ‘flower’ blowing gently in the wind, and just at the centre of this area a darker green patch of vegetation which meant deeper ground and water, the dogs drank from here.

A few words from the rather scant Wiki; “The monument consists of fifty-six stones arranged in a rectangle with a bank of earth around them and measures approximately 20m by 47m. The interior fills with water and a contemporary ground level has not been established. It has suffered damage by cattle in the past and is now protected by a gated fence. It can be reached by footpaths east of St Breward.”

There is a report by an archaeologist that gives the theory that in actual fact this is a medieval pound for the cattle up on the moors, and that two manors whose boundaries met here would have problems with straying cattle and they would be impounded, of course one would ask would it not be difficult with boggy ground and water to keep cattle there.

Feelings tells you that this is a ceremonial prehistoric monument, surrounded by stone circles on Bodmin Moor, there is a certain timelessness, stones cluster at the corners, there is a similar rectangular enclosure in Brittany, and apparently also at Lough Gur in Ireland, but until archaeological excavation proves the point one way or the other there is no answer, only that wild moors and megalithic monuments have a symbiosis that is magical.....

Blimey, this was a turn-up for the books. And no mistake. Following a violent night – meteorologically speaking – spent beside Loch Ceo Glas, the site catches my not-so-refreshed morning eye scanning the map as I munch my Cocopops, despite not featuring on my scrawled ‘to see’ list. The criteria are succinct. Quite near the road, probably not much left but worth a quick look as I head toward Dingwall way, perhaps? Yeah, let’s go for it. How was I to know that it, in my opinion, probably rates a close second to the great Balnuaran of Clava in any local comparison of sites.... only featuring oodles and oodles more vibe? But there you are.

‘General Wade’s Military Road’ – a tangible and, for me, somewhat unwelcome reminder of the more recent history of these Isles – makes short work of the journey across Drumashie Moor to Essich undertaken ‘neath leaden, threatening skies soon to dispense a violent allocation of hail. Very appropriate. Here a much more ‘serpentine’ stretch of tarmacadum climbs away to the south toward power pylons, the latter striding across the landscape with the purposeful, almost otherworldly assurance denied the earthfast route bound to the contours of the earth. Note the power lines .... I was able to park roadside, without issue, a little way beforehand near multiple field gates and a small lake... that’ll be a ‘lakelet’, then. The left hand gate was open, so in I ventured to find the terrain very boggy due to the presence of a little stream. Hence, in retrospect, it’s probably better to stick to the higher ground to your left en-route to the cairns which crown the narrow north-south ridge to the approx west. Negotiating a barbed-wire fence – the farmer, who had earlier been tending his sheep, had unfortunately buggered off by now so I couldn’t have a chat – and having ascended the very large cairn standing before me... the penny suddenly drops as to the magnitude of what we have here. Yeah, two more substantial chambered cairns set in linear progression to the north.

According to the splendid A S Henshall (1963) this wondrous trio of monuments are of ‘Orkney-Cromarty’ type, the first encountered, the southern, measuring 124 ft long by 94 ft wide. In common with its neighbours this cairn features the trashed, yet still pretty substantial remains of a rectangular chamber, albeit with some embedded barbed-wire... so watch out for that. The centre cairn, possessing arguably the most decent chamber of the three, measures ‘76ft by 47ft’. The final monument occupying the northern end of the ridge is (currently) heavily overgrown by gorse and other such painful, prickly stuff, ensuring its chamber is pretty hard to define. Henshall gives the dimensions as ‘120ft north to south and 57ft across the chamber’. So there you are, pretty impressive once again, then. An additional point of interest concerns the fact that although ‘the areas between the cairns are turf-covered.... there is a low neck of cairn material below the turf connecting the cairns proper’. In other words the three cairns could well have been regarded as one ‘super long cairn’ some 380ft in length!! As I recall a similar thing was said to have occured at Camster, further north in Caithness. Whatever, there is a lot of cairn material here.

I wander, or rather clamber and stumble, along the length of the monument and gaze at the surrounding hills and small nearby loch trying to rationalise how such a massive monument with such overwhelming vibe could escape our attention for so long? Returning to the southern cairn I partake of lunch, the early morning hail having moved on with the strong, prevailing wind to be superseded by washes of light. It is quite bizarre how such a seemingly bleak, inhospitable landscape seen through eyes shielded against driving hail can suddenly seem so utterly magical, so beguiling when the sun does its nuclear thing.

Note: upon returning to Essex I determine the reason this excellent site had not featured on TMA before. Yeah, that doyen of Scottish chambered cairns, Greywether, had mistakenly posted an image of the site to another Carn Glas at Kilroy. Probably the only error he ever made.

Not shown upon the current 1:50K map, and depicted as ‘cairn’ on the larger scale 1:25K version, this site is nicely positionned upon the western bank of the fast flowing River Shin, just south of the dam. Well worth a visit, extended or otherwise. Burl disagrees with the classification and reckons the sites – aye, there are apparently two – are both the disrupted remains of stone circles.

Unaware of the existence of a second stone setting to the south-west (according to Burl ‘some 20ft across. Only three low stones still stand’) I focus upon the obvious monument of four low stones. The tallest upright is just ‘2ft 3in’ high, but nevertheless I have to admit I’m impressed and, if not for the promise of the chambered cairns of the north-west looming in my mind, I could have happily spent a couple of hours here, watching the water rush by beneath the great cairns of the Ord, rising to the north-west.

Access is easy.... take the B864 heading south on the A839 at Lairg and immediately park by a stile to the left. There is a sign here warning fishermen to take care when casting due to overhead cables. Ha! Or else it might be them ‘frying tonight’... and not the poor fish. I know which side I’m on, but guess that’s by the by. Head for water’s edge and there you are. As for the south-western ring... sorry, no idea whether it can still be seen or not. More’s the pity.

Make sure you check the opening hours at the museum in the centre of the town before walking out here, especially on a blisteringly hot day.

Spanish austerity means the opening hours we’d seen published were no longer up to date, and it was shut when we arrived. Very disappointing!

We arrived in the village of Minions in cold, misty and very windy conditions. The moors around sported farm animals and ponies, this part of the moor it was the banded white/black cows that were in evidence. Small ponies everywhere, their foals at heel or fast asleep in a hollow of the land whilst their mothers grazed.
Great excitement on my part for eventually arriving in Cornwall, the Cheesewring pub/hotel was very welcoming, room good and the food fairly good as well – pub fare.

How to describe this landscape, dystopia kept coming to mind, the land has been mined for tin and ruined engine houses dot the skyline. Yet of course it is beautiful, the mine workings flow through the land as bumps, ditches and small pits filled with reeds and water, a green and pleasant land, the mist adding to the romantic industrial tone of the place.

The Hurlers Stone Circles, there are three, though one has almost disappeared, is about 5 minutes walk from the road just outside the village and they lie about half a mile from the Cheesewring, upon which of course they are focused. What went through the minds of these stone age people as they looked on the weird shaping of the Cheesewring, honed by time and geology to a ‘topple’ of stones balanced precariously on top of one another. Did they think their ancestors had built such stone gods? Giants placing each stone carefully, who knows?

On our first visit, the mist came and went so that sometimes the blurred outlines of the Cheesewring was there and then would completely disappear, we had come in the time of the summer solstice, but the sun had decided not to make an appearance. We met at the stone circle someone from the forums, who were also there for the summer solstice.

The two stone circles have a feeling of serenity and you can fall in love with them quite happily, they pull you in, they are not showy circles just part of the landscape and as you glance over to the two Piper Stones in the distance the question asked are they both part of the same equation, or are these two stones something different.

As we spent three days in Minions village, we
visited several times, and also walked to the Cheesewring in blustery weather with Sanctuary and his dog Chief. The front half of this great outcrop of rock (sorry don’t do north, south, east and west) has been heavily quarried right up to the strange assemblage of stones before it was finally stopped. There is an early neolithic wall fronting this and several upright stones balanced precariously on the edge of the quarry, this is part of Stowes Pound Neolithic enclosures.
Silly people were doing the ‘Titanic’ act of standing on the Cheesewring with arms outstretched in a gale force wind, hopefully should they have been blown off there is a helicopter service in Cornwall.
Definitely going back!