Latest Fieldnotes

Although a deep mantle of snow is blanketing the high tops – but thankfully not the valleys – of the South Walian hills.... and despite a c40mph wind assuring some very serious windchill at altitude... the Mam C is nevertheless in the mood for an Easter upland sojourn. To be honest I’m rather more of a wuss at the prospect of freezing to death upon some godforsaken (right on!) mountain, consequently deciding to play it safer than might otherwise have been the case. Why not pay a (very) overdue visit to the Bronze Age cairn said to stand upon the eastern shoulder of Fan Nedd? Yeah, I’ve no problem with rhetorical questions such as that.

Passing the wondrous Maen Llia – is there a finer standing stone in all Wales? – we park just prior to where the minor road suddenly plunges diagonally down the precipitous face of Llethr to the Senni Valley below... a couple of vehicles can be safely left here, the spot, a great viewpoint, worthy of a visit in its own right. From here a stile crosses a dilapidated dry stone wall heading approx south-west toward distant Bwlch-y-Duwynt rising above the source of the Afon Nedd... and Fan Gyhirych. After a short while, however, we veer left and, upon breeching the snow line, commence the ascent toward the prominent ‘marker cairn’ visible crowning Fan Nedd’s northern prow. Now some ‘experts’ will have you believe the Welsh mountains are a doddle to stroll up, completely failing to take into account the most obvious mitigating factor.... the weather. Well it does has a tendency to be somewhat, er, inclemental on a regular basis. I would suggest you pay them no heed and treat the uplands with the respect Nature demands, commands... and in any event deserves. I like to think we take matters seriously and ‘walk the walk’, although today ‘stagger’, ‘slither’ and ‘stumble’ are perhaps more appropriate descriptions as we do whatever it takes to traverse deep snow and attain an audience with one of South Wales’ more strikingly placed Bronze Age cairns.

Bronze Age? Well, yes, the aforementioned marker cairn, quite well built with an inherent ‘wonky’ charm, surmounts a deceptively large footprint far too substantial – I would suggest – to proffer a credible alternative origin in such a landscape context. Once again placement is everything, the summit of the mountain, without cairn, lying a considerable distance to the south and thus not party to the fabulous northern vista of the fertile Senni Valley to be blown away by here. Furthermore there is an uninterrupted view of the iconic tops of Corn Du and Pen-y-Fan to the east, rising beyond Maen Llia; looking west, those of Fan Gyhirych and Y Mynydd Du fill the skyline. All bear Bronze Age cairns in situ, several excavated to reveal cists. This is truly a location to linger for ... ooh, hours and hours. Except not for quite that long today. The cold is overwhelming, Nature in a most brutal mood indeed. Suffice to say we must move at incremental intervals simply to cope, taking the opportunity to visit the summit and partake of lunch overlooking the nascent Afon Nedd, its waters sourced upon the boggy col before Fan Gyhirych. It’s instructive to ponder this is the very same water course which engages in such spectacular aerobatics further down its eponymous cwm.

So, finally.... after all these years.... we proceed to lipslide (yeah!), with occasionally alarming alacrity, down the eastern flank of the mountain heading for the only position I would have conceivably placed a second, lower cairn. Had any Bronze Age big man been mad enough to put me in charge of operations, that is. Funnily enough I am correct. No, really. In solidarity with its higher companion the cairn is low and, to be fair, we might easilly have walked right over it if the snow hadn’t been somewhat patchy ‘down here’. However I concur with Coflein and reckon it is beyond reasonable doubt, the tell tale covering of moss failing to obscure what could quite probably be the remains of a kerb. Elements of a cist, however, are open to much more debate. Too fanciful, perhaps? Whatever the truth the cairn (once again) occupies a superb site overlooking the Maen Llia, be-cairned and settled Fan Llia providing the riven backdrop. As we hang out in the comparative warmth of this wondrous place a family wander up and seem somewhat bemused by our presence.... although I’ve a feeling the dad was actually a bit of a closet ‘head’. Welcome my friend and spread the word. Leave your cars and take to the hills!

Visited 15th April 2013

Shapinsay is a wild and windy place today, as we walk from the ferry at Balfour village on our pilgrimage to the Mor Stein. On the way there, just as we approached a ruined old kirk, an intriguing green mound caught our attention perched right on the coast.

Lest the wind whips away the map, we duck into the shelter of the derelict church, the OS map confirming our suspicions that the mound is a ruined broch. Behind the church is an ivy clad vault, wonderfully atmospheric and containing the graves of the Balfour family, responsible for Shapinsay’s castle, and from here we notice a gate that looks as if it leads to the field containing the broch. As it turns out it doesn’t, merely opening into a graveyard annex, but back on the ‘main road’ an open gate into an empty field next to the old church allows us to access the broch.

A large flock of Oystercatchers sweep by us as we cross the field, their raucous calls a constant soundtrack on Orkney. The low green lump of the broch is clearly visible against the sea, and behind it the nearby island of Helliar Holm, with its chambered cairn clearly visible atop that island’s prominent hill.

At the broch some stonework is visible on the landward side, but not until you pick your way across the rickety wire fence and down to the foreshore that more of the sweep of the broch’s wall is visible perched precariously on the low cliff edge, the remains having succumbed to erosion long ago. Apparantly the site suffered heavily in the storms of February 1984, and it looks as if another heavy storm might be enough to finish it off for good.

Down on the shore amongst the rocks it is more sheltered, a fine place to look out to sea, or up to the broch wall above you. Although little now remains of this ancient site it still retains a sense of presence, and is one of those places that is more than the sum of its parts, a lovely spot to spend a while.

As we turned to leave a huge rainbow, a thick band low in the sky, quite unlike any I’d ever seen before, had appeared behind us, just another magical sight in Orkney.

The Bronze Age cairn crowning the summit of Pen-y-Gadair-Fawr can not be seen from the fabulous monolith that is the Maen Llwyd, situated a little under a mile below to the south. Nevertheless aficionados of such monuments will probably require no directions save the prosaic ‘up’, common sense ensuring Citizens Cairn’d keep to the left of the lacerated hillside carved by the numerous sources of the Gargwy Fach. To be fair it is probably a pretty straightforward, albeit steep and tiring climb under ‘reasonable’ conditions, similar to that from the Grwyne Fawr to the east, I’d have thought? However today, suffering from the effects of fatigue having ‘merely’ made it to the standing stone (it is enough, to be honest), the flanks of Gadair Fawr loom.... nay tower... above me overpoweringly, overwhelming any fledgling resurgence of male bravado at source. Nevertheless the call is too strong.... I resolve to see how far I can get, if only to take a few snaps. Making no promises, now.

The early stages are not too taxing, the occasional stumble down a snow-filled gulley notwithstanding, such indignant episodes proffering the opportunity to study the form of icicles in detail – too much detail for comfort, perhaps – exquisite water crystals shimmering in the sunlight. Then, however, the angle eases and the summit duly takes its place upon the horizon... the intervening landscape appearing positively benign, welcoming even, a winter wonderland resplendent beneath a well broken cloudscape advancing with the wind across a startlingly blue sky. Yeah, looks wonderful, but what a bugger of a landscape to try and walk across for those not used to such things, deep snow topped by a crust of ice tough enough to resist a walking pole, but unable to support 12 stones of me.... like trying to stagger across polystyrene, perhaps? Half way there it is time to see if I have another gear in reserve, so to speak. Seems I have... well, sort of.

Eventually, rising beyond a more or less vertical cornice taking a couple of attempts to negotiate without crampons, there it is. The summit, unrecognisable from my visit with the Mam C some years back (but none the worse for that), the full winter raiment truly mind blowing in its brilliant, shining intensity, the upland landscape in complete contrast to the usual ubiquitous upland grass. The conditions are technically not the best for studying the form of Bronze Age cairns.... nevertheless the size of this one can not be camouflaged by a blanket of snow and protective shell of ice. Sure, there is an obligatory small walkers’ cairn on top – thankfully no muppet storm shelter, though – but it is the massive underlying footprint which impresses, the ancient cairn clearly well worthy of the site chosen for it millennia before. It is perhaps noteworthy that Waun Fach, rising to the north-west, is actually the highest point of the Black Mountains’ summit ridge, but, lacking the distinctive profile of Pen-y-Gadair-Fawr, does not possess a cairn. For what it’s worth I reckon it never did so, suggesting the Bronze Age locals had a fundamental, sophisticated appreciation of landscape form. Indeed, the Mam C and I have referred to Pen-y-Gadair-Fawr as ‘the nipple mountain’ for years, the cairn set in profile upon its breast. Check it out for yourselves....

Despite the bitter cold I am in no hurry to leave; no way, not after such a pilgrimage to get here again, the landscape exhibiting a ‘purity’ seemingly not apparent at other times. To the west the Brecon Beacons reside like a veritable cathedral of marble upon a patchwork of green fields, to the east the ridge carrying the Offa’s Dyke path defining the border with England, similarly attired. I think of numerous other cairns.... round, chambered, long... which still stand sentinel upon this landscape together with the ancient settlements, the hillforts where people used to live. Hey, the standing stones, even, and ponder – as you do – that the cairn upon which I sprawl for a couple of hours before starting the long trek back to the car was part of a very Big Picture indeed. Back then. Come to think of it, it still is today.

Solitary standing stones are, I confess, generally my least favourite genre of prehistoric monument. Rules, however, are defined by exceptions.... and I’ve had my beady eye upon the Maen Llwyd ever since the previous posters highlighted the wonderful location it occupies. But how to get there? Forestry complicates matters from the south and west, Pen-y-Gadair-Fawr and its peers rendering an approach from east and north impractical for all but the most dedicated of stonehead. There are other adjectives. Since the other two gentlemen chose the latter option I, in the interests symmetry, you understand – not to mention altruism for those that may wish to come after – elect an low level approach from the Grwyne Fechan.

From the charming, bustling town of Crickhowell, chambered cairns still overlooking both banks of the Afon Wysg (River Usk) as they have done for millennia, the Llanbedr Road heads uphill past the DanyGrug cottages, trending left beneath the decapitated, fortified summit of Crug Hywel to eventually terminate near Hermitage Bridge. A little beforehand it is possible to park several cars – or it would have been if not for the large blocks of ice littering the environs.... the usual – and, covering the final section of tarmacadum on foot, I veer left upon a bridleway ascending the western flank of a forestry plantation, heading roughly north-west. Pen Twyn Gwyn rears up above the Grwyne Fechan, its crest the location of precious finds of artefacts mislaid/deposited (?) by prehistoric hunter dudes way back when.... truly, it is worth the walk simply to follow in their footsteps. As for the other flank of the valley, that is formed by the highest ground in The Black Mountains, my destination today. As mentioned earlier forestry complicates matters of route finding, although, to be fair, the conditions are soon to prove the primary consideration. Initially I elect to head for Tal-y-Maes farm and pick up a forestry track parallel to the Gargwy Fawr.... however the farm track is sheet ice, dangerously impassable unless one happens to possess the balance and grace of a Katarina Witt... needless to say I have neither. Wouldn’t say no to one-on-one lessons, though.

Plan B (no, not the rapper bloke.... that would have been surreal) heads north across fenced fields, west of the farm. Fencelines aren’t an issue, unlike the deep snow which renders progress painstakingly, exhaustingly slow. Not used to this. Nevertheless I eventually manage to struggle up to a forestry track following the near flank of the far treeline to the north. Plan B would have been pretty cunning if it had included following this track all the way to the forestry’s northern limits, leaving just a short ascent to the right at the end in order to attain the stone; however I decide to head for the little hill of Twyn Du and find myself more or less marooned up to my bits in drifting snow, a sad, forlorn figure pondering what to do next... literally out of his depth. Yeah, in hindsight it was a rubbish plan, so it was. In an attempt to make headway I cut back into the trees, but find the interior choked with a twisted mass of organic debris. Emerging into the light once more two shaggy ponies back away as if not wishing to be seen with such a muppet. Not good for the equine image, mixing with the tourists, you know?

Nevertheless the prize is near at hand, albeit still requiring a final considerable uphill effort to attain. I prepare to be distinctly underwhelmed following such an overwhelming approach. But I am not. Far from it. In fact I’m greatly impressed by the elegant menhir which stands before me, more or less human height and leading the beady eye along the forest-line toward the bwlch between distant Mynydd Llysiau and Pen Trumau to the approx north-west. The upper section of the monolith features a ‘step’, an argument connecting this with possible sighting upon the aforementioned landscape feature perhaps not excessively fanciful? Then again I’m no expert in these matters. For me that fact that it is so goddam beautiful here, so peaceful, so serene, possessing such an evocative vibe, is what matters.

The serenity can not last, however..... yeah, there it goes again, insidiously burrowing into my psyche.... the unspoken siren call of the high places. Like a moth unto the flame, as they say.

Visited 12th April 2013

What a difference from my first visit here ten years ago. Then I had to climb a rickety fence and wade ankle deep through bog, all the while being battered by the wind with stinging freezing rain hammering me in the face.

Today things are much more civilised. The weather is positively warm for the northerly latitude, and a nice new gate from Achavanich accesses the field, the cairn being easily visible on higher ground to the east of the great ‘U’ of Stemster. The route to the cairn is still marshy, a drainage stream cuts the cairn off from the Achavanich stones, but a wooden plank has been placed across it to allow access. It is so damp at the moment though that the plank threatens to be swamped, and I carefully pick my way across it, with arms extended for balance, feeling very Tomb Raider.

Keeping my feet dry I arrive at the cairn, which affords a fantastic view across the stone setting to Loch Stemster, while if you turn to your left mountains dominate the distant horizon, today snow capped and lovely.

The cairn must once have been huge, for it is still a fair size although denuded in size, and 1,000 years older than the stones it overlooks. It is possible to make out what looks to once have been an entrance passage, though now collapsed in on itself, and the central chamber still forms a fine cist.

Now that access is easier make sure not to leave out Achkinloch on a visit to Achavanich, just make sure you bring some waterproof shoes!

Visited 12th April 2013

Despite the fact that we regularly stop off in Aviemore on our northward jouneys, I realise with shock that it’s been at least ten years since I last visited the circle. There is really no excuse, the circle being conveniently located just to the north of the town, even being handily signposted just next to the fire station, and being located in a quiet cul-de-sac parking next to the monument is not a problem.

Although the houses encroach right up to the stones, giving the impression that the circle was nothing more than a civic monument to spice up a humdrum estate, when you actually get here you appreciate the fine qualities of the site. It is a fine circle, and suprisingly easy to imagine how things would once have been before the houses were built during Aviemore’s expansion in the 1960’s.

The mountains stand proud on the horizon, snow capped today, placing the circle in a natural amphitheatre. The chunky stones are substantial, with a couple of outliers concentrically set on the outside of the circle, the groundplan making a lot more sense if you’ve previously had of pleasure of visiting Balnuaran of Clava.

We picnic in the centre of the circle, joined by a friendly local dog, but are struck just by how nicely kept the circle is, there being not a scrap of rubbish or other damage as might often by expected at more ‘urban’ sites, as well as a generally relaxed feeling of welcome here. I certainly didn’t get the impression of any ‘curtain twitching’ or otherwise feeling of discomfort as we lesiurely ate our lunch, and took inumerable photos from every conceivable angle.

A lovely site, like a fondly remembered meal that you don’t realise how good it is until you experince it again, I’ll make sure I visit the circle next time we come this way, and I’d certainly recommend if you’re ever in Aviemore you do the same.

We approached from the south west, parking in Gerlan on the east side of Bethesda. As we gain some height, the wind which had been negligible down by the car began to get stronger, fortunately at this point it was pushing us up the hill, TSC reminded me of the wind on Carnedd Llewelyn last year and I make the unwarranted assertion that it’s not that strong yet. The wind soon began to be the third member in our highland walkabout, we shall call him windy.

We make for the Drosgl summit as directly as possible, the walk was mostly nice and easy, it’s not too boggy, other parts of Snowdonia are mostly boggy, but here it is obligingly firm and dry. To the east the mountain views are long and wide from on top of Gyrn Wigau, all the high Carneddau are strung out before us from Foel Fras to Pen yr Ole Wen, all speckled with snow hidden from the sun.
In the opposite direction is cairn topped Moel Faban, ditto for Moel Wnion, and beyond these shapely hills Angelsey floats amid a tropical looking sea.
Behind us is the not so pretty site of the Penrhyn quarries, a massive ugly scar forced upon the most lovely countryside in Wales, a constant reminder of Mans willingness to sell even the ground under his feet.

Half way between Gyrn Wigau and Drosgl are two rock stacks, the path, such as it is , weaves between them.
As we approach them they appear to us as rocky sentinels, guarding the higher “heavenly” lands, we pick one and sit out of the wind as best we can. Just below us three wild-ish ponies are grazing on the wide ridge, they seem utterly ignorant of old windy. The sight of the high mountains to our east growing dark in cloud shadows, then bright and colourful in the bright sunlight, are really very easy on the eye. We head on.
The footpath wont take us to the top of Drosgl, instead it passes by on the south side and carries on up to Carnedd Uchaf, now renamed as Carnedd Gwenllian (Why, how and by whom I dont know). We take the path as long as we can and then bolt off to our left just making for the highest point, it gets very rocky on the summit, thousands of tonnes of broken shattered rock, enough cairn material to create a whole cairn cemetery. There are three cairns here, the highest point is occupied at the moment by a small walkers cairn. It also has the best view of the mountains.

Away from the mountain view, on the north west edge of the summit plateau are the other two cairns, obviously the view this way was far more important to them, but is it the sea ? or is it Angelsey that holds such captivation ?
Windy is now in a far more playful mood, if you turn your back on him for a moment he’ll try and push you over, if you turn and face him its like being continuously hit in the face by an eleven year old with a heavy pillow, just like it in fact.
We sit in the wind shadow cast by the big cairn admiring the view over Moel Wnion, immediately beyond our feet is the strangest cairn up here, sited as to be oblivious to the geographical grandeur behind us and the big cairn. It is apparent it’s been reconstructed, the large kerb stones are perfect and obvious, no slippage here. But among all the superfluous cairn material it is hard to discern, it only reaches a height of perhaps two feet, regarding it from the north it is all but invisible. The big cairn overshadows it somewhat as well, being at least ten times the size, it is flat topped and hazardous to walk across, not vengeful spirits, nor some overwhelming respect for ancient monuments, just trying to protect your ankles.
It is roundabout now that I internally concede that it is now as windy or windier than it was last year up on Llewelyn, you have to brace yourself against it just in order to take a picture. Windy is fair screaming in my ears like a Harrier jump jet hovering before me, I cant hear a word Alken says and instead try to read his lips/facial expressions/ posture. We decide that this isn’t the time for sitting around and watching, so we agree that a walk over to the twin rocky citadels of Bera Mawr or Bera Bach would be most beneficial. In the end just one wouldn’t do, so we have a scramble all over them both telling ourselves it’s training wheels for Tryfan in the summer. I hope so.

But now it is time to move on some more, sadly all on the way back to the car, we head for Moel Wnion but change our minds as windy has brought his mate with him, Drizzle.
Minds changed we head straight for Moel Faban, via a mellow gorge named Bwlch ym Mhwll-le, the weather likes our decision and shows it’s sunny side. But from here, it is somewhere else’s field notes.

We pulled in to Fenagh and parked up at the still functioning Church of Ireland church. Just as we got out of the car, the heavens opened with an almighty hail storm. My companion had a dog and agreed that it would be better if he went for a stroll around the old ecclesiastical sites while I checked the court tomb over the road.

Once the hail had stopped I headed over. It’s not too far into the field and there was only one or two sheep in the vicinity. I headed down to the tomb and started to have a gawk. It is very prettily situated on a small hillock in sloping pasture. Just as I was trying to come to grips with its layout, attack of the very hungry sheep got underway. Suddenly, as if out of thin air, 100 sheep and lambs decided that I was daddy and that I had some fodder for them in these lean, hungry times. I’ve never had to retreat from a site because of sheep, but the racket they were making was enough to force me back without ever really having taken the time this tomb deserves. Ah well, there was always Elvis up the road!

A nice evening stroll through Killykeen Forest Park, from the northern approach via Killashandra. This is that rare monument in the republic – marked on the map of the amenity and now in its own fenced enclosure. The forestry will be re-planted but there is a sufficient gap surrounding it to allow it to breathe a little.
5 minutes up the track from the parking space are the de-nuded remains of a co. Cavan dual court tomb. There is still much of the cairn/mound material lying strewn about and both tombs retain much of their structural stones. The gap between the backstones of the tombs is quite large, maybe 8 metres, the courts of both similarly diminutive. The stones are all of the same conglomerate that is found in the locality.
I’m beginning to think that I’m better off going to these places on my own, as most people that I go with are only momentarily interested and I don’t get enough time to drink in the atmosphere. My companion here was bored within 5 minutes, so my visit was curtailed.

Large barrow on the top of Athgoe Hill, just about inside the county Dublin boundary. Athgoe Hill and Lyons Hill are the last, most north-westerly, of a series of hills/mountains that form an arc to the south of Dublin city.
Access to the barrow is easy as there’s a track up to the aerial/mobile phone mast. It’s quite henge-like, about 45 metres in diameter and also quite ploughed/eroded away. In fact the national monument’s database has this as an enclosure, with the remains of the barrow downslope to the north of here.

This is a very accessible, surprisingly intact, and slightly overgrown monument. I must admit that I was taken aback by the condition of the henge, having understood from previous reading that it would be barely recognisable when encountered.

A 15 minute stroll uphill from the forestry entrance leaves you just beside Lugg henge. The outer ring is roughly 30 metres in diameter, with an outer ditch that is a metre deep in places, especially on the south to west arc. The bank rises to a metre and a half in places here as well.

Inside this is a second ring with a visible ditch and about 10 metres in diameter. Much else has gone on here over the milennia as excavations show that this is a multi-faceted, multi-period site. I was definitely impressed by this place, hidden away as it is in the trees, but I had to leave rather sooner than I wished. Somewhere I would like to return to and contemplate its purpose more lengthily.

Unless your on a long mountain walk like we were, when you can approach it from any where and any angle, then your best coming at these two cairns from the south west, parking can be had at the end of Cilfodan terrace, right next to Pen-y-gaer, well, two fields away.
You can skirt round the eastern edge of Moel Faban, going past a settlement or two, or you could go up to the top of Moel Faban passing three substantial bronze age cairns, I know which way i’d go. At the other side of Moel Faban the ground again begins to rise, up to the 443 m hill top Llefn, but between the two hills is the strange and out of place gorge, the softest and most mellowed gorge there is, there seems no reason for this arrow straight natural feature, it has a man made feel to it its so out of place.
So it must have made an impression upon our ancient brethren also, because it is here that two more cairns have been constructed, the cairns of Bwlch ym Mhwll-le, the place of passing ? or the Pool room. Not much in it is there?

The two cairns are quite different, the larger northern cairn, the one we didn’t get up close to, is a large spread of loose stones, very close to a large squarish boulder. We never saw it untill we were on the other side of the Bwlch and didnt have the energy to go back up hill again.
The southern cairn, is, to me, more interesting, it has half of a large cist at it’s center, the cairn has kept maybe half it’s kerb stones, and many more stones protrude through the grass. But the best thing about it, is it wasn’t on the map and we just stumbled across it on our way elsewhere, 1:25000 map just has a circle in the vicinity, but the 1:50000 map has the customary little star that denotes Barrow/cairn, even so, both these cairns should be on any map.

It is a nice little cairn, if it were a little more accessible, i’m sure it would have grabbed our attention years ago, but as nice as the cairn is, it is the surroundings that grab and hold our attention, explicitly, the view south. Looking south with the cairn at our feet , the top of Cardnedd Dafydd is on the left, further away, above the Ogwen valley are the high tops of the Glyders, moving right, Y Garn, then Carnedd y Filiast, and far far left is the mountain we’ve just conquered and been conquered by, Drosgl. It is a rich and beautiful eyeful, to be stared at, oggled and drooled upon.

Just one word of warning, it gets a touch windy up the hills at times, if its windy down by the road it will be much stronger up here.

Visited 25.4.13

Directions:
From Cheltenham take the A435 south and shortly after passing the A436 junction keep an eye out for a turning to the right (west) for Cockleford / Elkstone. Turn here and follow the minor road south to Elkstone. Just before the road joins the main A417 there is a minor road to the left which bends around the back of the farm The Barrow is about 1km along this road.

This is another substantial Barrow which is easy to access. The Barrow is right next to the road and there isn’t even a fence or hedge you have to negotiate.

The Barrow is covered with several large, mature trees. The Barrow occupies the summit of a relatively high spot in the surrounding rolling countryside. There were many stones scattered on the surface amid the grass.
The top of the Barrow shows clear signs of at one time being dug into – no doubt for treasure!

A chap on a quad bike drove past twice but didn’t stop to ask questions.

As Karen had previously let me collect a bag of cow manure I returned the favour by collecting a bag of pine cones for her to use when making Christmas decorations for people.
One good turn deserves another.......

This is a cracking Barrow and is well worth a visit when in the area.

E.H. state:
‘The monument includes a round barrow set just below the crest of a hill, about 500m to the north of the road to Combend Manor. The barrow mound measures 35m in diameter and is 4m high. The mound is surrounded by a ditch which has been infilled over the years and can no longer be seen at ground level. It will, however, survive as a buried feature about 4m wide. There is no evidence that the barrow has been excavated in the past‘

Visited 24.4.13

Directions:
From Cheltenham take the A435 south and then west along the A436. You will shortly cone to a turning on your left (south) signposted Cowley. Take this turning and about 1.5km along the minor road you will come to a turning on the left. There is room to park next to the field gate opposite. The Long Barrow is visible from the gate and is only a short walk away, along the Gloucestershire Way.

After spending a day visiting what must have been every charity shop in Cheltenham (It’s what Karen wanted to do for her birthday) it was time for a bit of ‘old stoning’.

After my recent near scrapes with farmers it was nice to be able to visit a site that has a public right of way. Well, that isn’t 100% accurate as you do have to enter a field off the Gloucestershire Way – but it is only a matter of a few metres – so I am sure it would be ok.

The sun was shining through the gaps in the clouds. Had it not been for the cold wind it would have been quite warm. The track way from the road was fairly flat and I passed a herd of cows with an ever watchful bull in a field to my left. Fortunately I was more interested in the Long Barrow which was in the empty field opposite.
A handy metal field gate gave easy access.

The Long Barrow has clearly taken a bit of punishment over the years and was now in two sections with a gap through the middle of it. It looks as though the cattle walk through this gap when using the field. There is also evidence of what appears to be at least two ‘excavations’ of the Barrow in years gone by?

For all this, the Long Barrow still stands tall and proud in its position at the head of a valley.
It is approximately 30m long x 3m in height. A large bush/small tree grows in each of the Barrow’s two sections. I could only see one largish stone lying on top of the grass.
There are good views all along the valley and presumably this is why the Barrow was placed here originally?

I sat for a short while on top of the Barrow, looking down the valley and simply watching the world go by. It is these types of moments which make it all worth while.
Well worth the effort when in the area.

Before too long I had to head back to Karen in the car.
‘Do you have a plastic bag I can have?’ I asked.
‘Yes, here’ she replied passing the bag. ‘Why do you need a bag?’
‘I just passed a large cow pat which would be good for the rhubarb’
‘Does it smell much?’ Karen wearily enquired.
‘Not much’ I reassured her!

I know how to treat a girl on her birthday!!

Visited 20.4.13

I finally got to visit the ‘Lang Stone’ – just!

After confirming the position of the ‘Lang Stone’ from COFLEIN I optimistically set off in search of the stone. I could tell from the map that the stone was on private land with no public right of way. There were two possible ways of approach.

The easiest way appeared to be via Underwood Leisure Centre (see notes for Stockwood Barrow). I crossed the field containing the Barrow and headed north towards the trees. It should have then been an easy walk across the next field to the field containing the stone. Problem – the field in question was being ploughed by the farmer and clearly there was no way of getting past him without being spotted.

I retraced my steps back to the Leisure Centre and went for plan B.

Plan B involved taking the minor road south off the A48 (in Langstone) which runs under the motorway and past Langstone Court. As I drove past Langstone Court (posh) things didn’t look promising. Signs stated ‘private’ and ‘warning – guard dogs’ were accompanied by several CCTV cameras. We carried on down the road to the pretty church where there was just enough room to pull in next to the gate.

A public right of way runs through the graveyard and around the back of Langstone Court. Unfortunately this is only part way to where the Lang Stone resides.

Luckily there are high hedges at this point and keeping to the hedgerows as much as possible I headed east across a couple of fallow fields. Again luck was on my side as there were gaps in the hedges giving easy access between the fields. After walking up the brow of a hill (right next to the motorway) I looked through the hedge to my right and spotted the elusive Lang Stone.

The field had recently been ploughed (no doubt by the same farmer I saw earlier) and I quickly walked over to the stone. To be honest it was all a bit of a disappointment. It is now no more than a squarish block of conglomerate stone approximately 1.5m across. Several small stones appeared to be lying underneath it.

At this point my luck ran out. I looked up and saw the farmer I saw earlier, in his tractor, who had stopped and was looking at me. We looked at each other for a couple of minutes and he started his tractor back up. I thought ‘here we go’ and waited for him to drive towards me. To my surprise he turned around and carried on ploughing the next field. Still, best I go I thought.

I quickly headed back the way I came and as I was about to go through I gap between fields I heard the rumble of a tractor. I looked across and saw a different tractor heading towards me. In a flash I backed through the gap and went the only way I could without being seen – through a small boggy area covered in brambles. I battled my way through and managed to get back to the hedgerow just as the tractor slowly made its way the other side. I crouched down as the tractor carried on. The tractor driver was clearly looking for something (me probably!) as it turned and headed back towards me. I scampered along the hedgerow and thankfully got back onto the public footpath without being stopped. Back through the church yard, into the car, and away as quickly as possible.

It probably sounds quite funny now but it was an unpleasant experience at the time.
I should have felt a sense of achievement of seeing the stone but all I felt was relief.

All in all, was it worth it?
I would have to say no. The stone (if it is prehistoric) is not much to look at and given the apparent lack of a ‘warm welcome’ to visitors I wouldn’t recommend a visit.
If you do intend having a look at the stone yourself I would recommend either asking for permission first (not sure how successful that would be?) or approach via Underwood. This would be a more direct route and (as long as no farmers are about) give easier access.

COFLEIN states:
‘A slightly trapezoidal conglomerate block measuring 1.5m by 1.25m and 0.65m thick. Is located in a slight hollow on a low local summit. If once upright and larger, the rest of it has been removed’.

Visited 20.4.13

Despite my earlier failure to find the Barrow I can now report success!
(Don’t know how I managed to miss it the first time)

The Barrow is easy enough to find.

Directions:
Take the B4245 south off the busy A45 (near Newport) and then turn right into Underwood. This is a modern housing complex and operates a one-way system. Head for the leisure centre (closed) and there is room to park near the locked gates.

Walk past the gate and around the back of the leisure centre towards the children’s play area. The Barrow can be seen as a low, ploughed down ‘mound’.
Unless you were looking for it specifically you probably wouldn’t know it was there.
Still, in this part of the world, the fact it has survived at all is a bonus.

Not really worth the effort of a visit unless you are in the area and desperate for something ‘old’!

Visited 19.4.13

Directions:
From Bromyard take the A44 east and then turn south along the B4220.
Take the turning on the right signposted Stanford Bishop and the church is up a little lane on the left. There is room for a couple of cars to park outside the church gates.

A typical pretty medieval church in a typical rural location – or so I thought.
But there was more to this church than meets the eye.

Firstly it has a possible prehistoric standing stone built into the graveyard wall.
I circled the graveyard twice before discovering I had walked right past the stone!
The stone is immediately to the right of the gate – under the lamp post.
It is hard to spot from the inside as it is covered in ivy but from outside the church yard it is obvious. The stone is about 1m high and has some moss growing on it.

Secondly, in the churchyard next to the path is a large healthy looking yew tree.
The certificate inside the church states the yew is approximately 1,200 years old!

Thirdly, whilst looking around inside the church I noticed a chair in the corner, next to the alter. Not the usual place to find a chair I thought? It had a slightly odd design and looked old so I had a closer look. I then noticed a brass plaque attached to the chair that stated the chair was known as St Augustine’s Chair. The plaque is inscribed: ‘The traditional chair upon which St. Augustine was seated at the historic conference with the British Bishops at the Second Synod AD 603?
WOW, a 1,400 year old chair! I of course just had to sit on in and quietly ponder the meaning of life for a few minutes in the calming silence of the church.
How cool is that? (Well, I thought it was good anyway!)

I enjoy visiting old churches. Not than I am religious but I do like old buildings and admire the workmanship which has passed the test of time. Living in a city as I do, it is easy to get a bit despondent with the world when you see the litter, graffiti and crime which take place. Getting out into the countryside and knowing there are still parts of the country where churches can be left open without fear of vandalism and ‘honesty tables’ can be left outside selling eggs, jams, vegetables etc certainly does restore my faith in humanity.
I know things are not as straight forward as that but you know what I mean.

Needles to say I would strongly recommend a Visit to St James’ if you are ever in the area. Not a typical church at all.

Visited 19.4.13

Directions:
From Bromyard take the B4212 north towards the hamlet of Edwyn Ralph. Just before entering Edwyn Ralph the road forks. Take the minor road to the left and then the first turning on the right. This leads directly to Wall Hills Farm and the associated Hillfort.

We drove up the narrow lane and the Hillfort became immediately apparent on the left.
It is difficult to park but we managed to pull in just before the second cattle grid.
If you walk over the grid there is a metal field gate which gives access to the Hillfort.

There is no public right of way so a degree of trespassing is required.
The impressive defences are clearly visible from the road if you prefer.

If you do decide on a closer look you will be confronted by a well preserved bank and ditch.
I would estimate the rampart to be about 6m high from the outside and about 2m high from the inside.
There is a hedgerow / barbed wire fence which divides the southern section of the Hillfort.

All was quiet and I only had sheep for company.
There are no trees growing on the Hillfort and there are great views to be had in all directions.
This is a fairly flat area and you could see for miles.

In view of the hedge/fence and the fact I wasn’t supposed to be there I didn’t hang around too long.
In hindsight it would have been far better to have asked permission at the farm

Just as we turned around and headed back down the lane a car came the other way heading towards the farm. That was a bit of luck as 5 minutes earlier and I would have been spotted!

This is a cracking Hillfort; the best I have visited for quite a while.
I am surprised that no one else has posted Fieldnotes before this.

I would heartily recommend a visit.
Be sure to ask permission first!

Visited 19.4.13

Directions:
From Leominster take the A4112 north east and then the minor road south towards the hamlet of Whyle. Bach Camp can be found to the west of Whyle. A narrow lane runs along the east of the site – parking is difficult.

As you travel south towards Bach Camp it is clearly visible on the right.
The site is free of trees so the remains of the bank / rampart can be easily seen.
The only remaining ‘defenders’ of the Hillfort are the sheep who seemed to be enjoying the spring grass.

The lane running past the site is very narrow and the closest we could find to pull over was outside the nearby farm. This resulted in several dogs barking loudly the whole time we were there.
A public footpath (signposted) runs along the eastern defences of the site.

Due to the dogs barking and the narrowness of the lane Karen didn’t feel comfortable stopping for long so only a quick visit was possible.

Certainly worth checking out when in the area.

It’s a steep climb for tired legs up onto the Moel Faban summit ridge, and the horizontal rain chooses this point to restart its assault. Gladman may wish to look away now, but we take shelter in the hollowed-out centre of the northern of the summit’s sizeable cairns. This one reminds me very much of some of the big examples on the western tops of Y Mynydd Ddu in South Wales.

The rain relents a little, to the north the blue skies pretending it’s still a lovely day. We emerge from hiding and carry on along the ridge. All the cairns here are magnificent, and the views from this relatively modest hill are superb. A fine example of how a look at the map is no substitute at all for a visit. And a great finish to the day with plenty left to come back for another time.

We continue to descend to Bwlch ym Mhwll-lle, when I spot a circular lump to our left. This reveals itself to be an apparent cairn with a central slab looking suspiciously cist-like [Coflein concurs]. A great little spot this, astonishingly not even marked on the OS map – did they not bother to come here? From here we drop down into the steeply sided Bwlch itself, which Postie quite properly notes would benefit from a little footbridge for weary travellers.

The OS’s lack of diligence also means that we don’t realise that there’s an even bigger cairn just to the north of the cist. This comes to light as we start our climb of the slopes of Moel Faban, but we’re both too weary to retrace our steps. Another visit to the Pass of No Bridge is clearly required.

Shortly after leaving the cairn and heading to the col, the heavens open and a stinging sideways rain blasts into us. We reluctantly abandon any intention of visiting the cairn on Moel Wnion, instead pressing onwards, around the shapely cone of Gyrn. The rain finally relents as we reach the ancient settlement at Cwm Ffrydlas.

There are a couple of curving external boundaries, but the remains are pretty scanty and quite difficult to make sense of. However, the settlement is beautifully positioned, at least as far as the scenery goes, with an awesome view across the valley to the Glyderau and Moel Eilio. It’s also sheltered down here, out of the winds that have blasted us for most of the day. A remote place now, on a day when we haven’t seen a soul, but people called it home once.

At length we head off the rocks, descending steeply to the west. We round the eastern slopes of Drosgl this time, passing a strange little shelter sculpted into the hillside, before carrying on round to the north, heading towards Moel Wnion. Our route crosses the small stream that, a couple of miles north, turns into the roaring water elemental at Aber Falls.

Passing a little sheepfold and weirdly splayed dead sheep (presumably a victim of the late snows), Postie spots something – “Is that a cairn?” And so it is, a little modern marker surmounting the larger circular footprint of what looks undoubtedly like an ancient one. [Coflein obligingly confirms.] Despite its position down the slopes, the cairn enjoys excellent views, particularly of Llwytmor and Bera Mawr. A fine addition to the monuments on this mountain, certainly.

A rather narrow and meandering path heads up the slopes of Drosgl from Gyrn Wigau, fairly gentle at first then steepening after we cross a footpath running up from the direction of Moel Wnion. Rounding the shoulder of the mountain it becomes obvious that the path will not take us up to the summit, so we head off and upwards over increasingly rocky terrain. The wind that has been at our backs so far now blows across our route, trying to steer us off course and making progress difficult. At length we make it up onto the rounded summit plateau. The main prehistoric cairn here is enormous. As Gladman notes, it doesn’t crown the summit itself (that honour being left to a pointy modern effort) but instead turns its face to the northern panorama. The vista is awe-inspiring, the wonderful Ynys Mon to the northeast, with Moel Wnion in the foreground. To the north the sea stretches away, and there is a fine view of Llwytmor to the northwest with the Orme in the distance beyond. At our backs, the highest Carneddau tops drift in and out of the clouds. Oh yeah.

Just a few metres north is a smaller cairn (apparently restored after excavation) with a neat kerb of larger blocks. Plenty of suitable material to choose from on this entirely rocky summit. It’s interesting to ponder the relationship between the two cairns and the people who were lain to rest in them. Were they contemporaries? Or did hundreds of years separate their interments? Only the wind might know the answer, but it’s speaking in a language we don’t understand.

We sit in what little shelter we can find, contemplating the next move. My leg feels okay, and the rocky tops of Bera Mawr and Bera Bach look sooo close. Happily Postie is up for an extension of our walk to take them in, so we leave the cairns and head off the top. It’s a blessed relief to get out of the wind as we descend the eastern slopes to the boggy col below.

Visited April 20, 2013

Thanks to Gladman for his tip about the sliding grille in the gate, something I missed.

But there is a really wonderful woodland walk to the Deer Park stone circle. From the centre of Monymusk—where a diversion to view the beautifully restored church is well worthwhile—head across the park immediately north of the churchyard.

When the park ends, woodland begins. Keep walking eastwards along a broad forest track until you come to the service road to Monymusk House. Follow this till you reach the River Don (continue right to view this magnificent building, more in the style of a castle than a mere house).
To reach the stone circle, walk left along the good path that flanks the river and cross the bridge that spans the burn. Now head left, either through the deciduous plantation, or 30 yards farther on along the field boundary. Deer Park Circle is but a minute’s walk away at the top of the rise.

To return, I recrossed the stream and followed it back towards the road. Here I found a six-foot tall gate in the deer fence (padlocked), and decided to climb out rather that retrace my steps.

I’ll have to check out the sliding grille next time I visit here.

In retrospect, it would have been better simply to have retraced my steps to Monymusk House and returned to the village square through the woodland (it’s only a 10 minute walk after all).