Latest Fieldnotes

St David’s Day 2013. To be fair I don’t know a great deal about the bloke... aside from an apparent fondness for a certain liliacaea vegetable and his vehement condemnation of Pelagian heresy. Don’t get me wrong – I can deal with a nice leek soup; but both the Mam and I are firmly with Pelagius in respect of the doctrine of free will, at least to the extent human psychology will admit of such a concept. Which is why we pair of Citizens Cairn freely choose to visit the (apparently) great cairns which surmount Twr Pen-cyrn upon this freezing Pelagius’s Day. Yeah, because we want to!

In some respects, the shattered ridge of Twr Pen-cyrn could be said to mark not only a physical demarcation between the grim landscape of ‘industrial South Wales’ and the scenic splendour of the Black Mountains to the north, but also that of mindset, too. It goes without saying that the social realities contributing to what appears to me a fundamental division are complex... and very real. Nevertheless, the contrast between the two landscapes, the two societies, the two outlooks on life, is striking – overwhelming, even – as we approach the parking area at approx SO209154 from the south, the magnificent vista of the River Usk, backed by the sculptured heights of The Black Mountains rising above Crickhowell, literally taking the breath away.

An old green quarry track heads westward from the car park beneath the soaring crags of Darren before ascending the eroded hillside, incidentally near the location of a cave where it appears the ancestors once took shelter. The usual, then. Once upon the crest, the low summit ridge rises more or less due south across what – I guess – would normally be a featureless, boggy plateau. Today, however, it bears a greater resemblance to frozen arctic tundra... not that I’ve ever been to the Arctic, you understand? The ‘going’ underfoot is thus pretty firm – although the resident ponies remain resolutely static some distance away refusing us an audience – so we soon find ourselves scrambling up the left hand (eastern) end of the ridge to discover a pair of very substantial cairns gracing as brutally chaotic a landscape as you could wish to find in upland South Wales. As mentioned by TSC there is actually a third cairn, the Hen Dy-aderyn, sited immediately adjacent to the northern monument and crowned by an OS trig pillar. The parent has unfortunately suffered at the hands of the usual walker muppets; having said that, however, it remains a fine testament to the efforts of its anonymous builders millennia ago. The second major cairn, standing some way to the south-east at the ridge’s terminus, is – for me – a superior stone pile with a much more substantial interior than its neighbour. To be honest, this is perhaps to be expected, bearing in mind the predictable summit-fixation of the average rambler. Indeed, we are paid a fleeting visit by such a walker whom we duly send on his way in short order.... the Mam C is not impressed by ‘know it alls’; even less so by those actually knowing bugger all and reminding us of the current Mayor of London. Cripes! Particularly when there is chocolate to be eaten. Mind you Boris himself would no doubt have been bizarrely entertaining....

Either cairn offers a fine perch to view the far horizons capped by a multitude of further monuments to Bronze Age VIPs... in fact, you could say they represent the best seats in the theatre, truly ‘up in the gods’. To the west the eyes are drawn toward the distant high peaks of The Brecon Beacons, beyond Garn Fawr and Cefn yr Ystrad. The dark mass of Blorenge rises to the south-east whilst, best of all, the serried ranks of The Black Mountains fill the northern aspect. Only the vista to the south would (arguably) appear totally alien to the original Bronze Age gaze. My, what have we done? The rape of the land, no less. However, it is something that should not.... can not.... be ignored. We must look, no matter how painful it is. Not to mention deal with the resulting inherent issues. Easier said than done.

There is more to be seen upon this windswept – tell me about it – mountain. Firstly, an alleged ‘stone circle’ located within a boulder field a little to the approx north-west of the main summit cairn. Hmmm. Suffice to say, we agree with TSC here in that the form of the monument – if indeed it is a monument – is subject to confirmation by a member with greater expertise in the field. And secondly.... another cairn visible some way along the ridge to the approx west. Well, it would be rude not to.

Leaving the junction, the Cotswold Way follows a straight track up to the top of the hill. The wind is keen, blowing the sculpted snow into flurries of spindrift. The walking is hard work, the shin-deep snow a plague for tired legs. Beckbury is another site visited last year, with overdue field notes. On that occasion, I approached from the southwest, up the steep escarpment. Today I have it easier, crossing the gentle slopes from the east. Like the other forts visited today, Beckbury is a promontory fort, with the west and northern sides relying on the escarpment for protection. Here the length of single rampart is rather longer, the curving bank on the east and south sides enclosing an area approx. 160 x 130 m.

The eastern bank is rather damaged, with a gap halfway along its length that is not original but has been broken through in recent times. This has exposed some big chunks of the limestone that make up the rampart’s construction. The southern curve of the bank is topped by a drystone wall, but remains fairly well-preserved. Apart from a short section at the northern end, there is little sign of a ditch, although on today’s visit it would be filled with snow anyway!

Last time I came here there were quite a few people out for a stroll. Today it’s deserted, the howling wind the only company apart from the sheep sheltering in the lee of the escarpment. The western slopes have developed cornices of snow that wouldn’t be out of place in the Cairngorms, although obviously without the life-threatening drop below. At the northwestern corner is an enigmatic limestone monument, graffiti scratched but naming no names as to whom it commemorates. Ozymandias, perhaps?

After the hamlet of Wood Stanway, where a passing farmer greets me with laughter and a disbelieving “you must be mad”, the route reaches its steepest climb, up to Stumps Cross. I take the ascent rather gingerly, but it’s not a huge climb and I reach the bench at the top without any major problems, despite the mud at the bottom and drifted snow on the slopes. From here, there are expansive views across the vale to the west on a good day, but sadly little to be seen under the low cloud today.

I visited the two round barrows a little over a year ago, but neglected to write any fieldnotes. Aside from the view from the escarpment edge, which is now obscured by trees from here, there is little recommend these barrows. They have been ploughed within an inch of their lives and unless you knew they were there, you probably wouldn’t notice them at all. However, if positioning is everything, they would have been impressive in their day and can be compared with the Saintbury Barrow a few miles away along the escarpment edge. Incidentally, Stumps Cross takes its name from the base of a now otherwise gone medieval cross alongside the road junction below the barrows.

Nearing the top of the hill, the northeast wind takes on an additional biting edge, driving snow in almost horizontally, over the edge of the escarpment. Shenberrow Hill Camp is another promontory fort, like its neighbour at Burhill Farm. Unlike that site though, the ramparts of Shenberrow are rather more powerful, with two banks protecting the approach from gentler slope to the north. On the west and south sides the steep scarp provides natural defences. I walk some way along a bridleway that follows the curve of the northern rampart, but the wind is doing its best to knock me over and I’m quite relieved to retrace my steps and enter the fort. The interior is crossed by the Cotswold Way itself, and an area below the west and south sides are access land, making it possible to get a good look at the earthworks without needing any permission. The southeastern section of rampart has unfortunately been destroyed by the construction of the farmhouse. As the strong wind and drifted snow attests, this is an exposed place and life here in the Iron Age must have been very tough, even snug under thatch behind the ramparts.

The Way exits the fort through what appears to be an original entrance at the south, from which the ground drops steeply to a wooded valley. Rather than following the path, I head onto the access land to the west of the fort, for a look at the sloping flanks below. The deep snow has the advantage of making a fairly sharp descent over thorny shrubs back to the path easier than it would be at other times.

Leaving the village, the route crosses muddy and wet fields, in what is becoming the noticeable feature of the Way so far. I’m soon climbing up more steeply, into deeper snow above the 100m mark. Broadway is disappearing into the gloom below. Once through the winter wonderland of Broadway Coppice, it’s time for my first – minor – diversion of the day. Leaving the Cotswold Way, a footpath skirts the southwestern edge of the field. The rampart of the fort comes into view once the crown of the hill has been rounded.

Carl notes that there isn’t much to see here, apart from a single rampart. All true, but this is a fairly typical promontory site, with three sides defended by the natural scarp of the hill and only one rampart needed across the dip slope of the “neck”. The single rampart isn’t the most impressive you might see, topped with very mature trees and no doubt eroded from its original height. It no longer extends across the full length of the field, presumably a victim of ploughing. There is a ditch on the outer, northeastern, side. The footpath crosses the rampart at its northwestern end, and then runs directly across the featureless interior – especially featureless in the snow today! Once at the south of the fort, the ground drops away steeply and there is a good view of Buckland village below.

I walk back around the southwestern and northern perimeter. There’s little evidence of any counterscarping and the site is not the most obviously defensible. However, various recorded finds of pottery, flints and a saddle quern suggest occupation over a long period, perhaps at times where defensive capability was not the primary focus. Certainly worth the minimal effort of the diversion today.

21/03/2013 – Iron Age bank and ditch beside the Tail Burn, marked on the OS map as the Giant’s Grave. According to the noticeboard and Canmore there seems to be various theories as to the use of this site. Believed to be for defence but some now think it could have been a site for pagan pilgrimage, due to its view of the impressive Grey Mare’s Tail waterfall. This is a must visit just for the scenery alone. From the top of the bank the view down the glacial shaped valley of the Moffat Water is quite beautiful. The Grey Mare’s Tail is one of the nicest waterfalls I’ve seen. It’s quite easy to imagine this place as one of pilgrimage.

Grey Mare’s Tail and the Giant’s Grave gets a mention in Walter Scott’s poem, Marmion (published in 1808)

“Where deep deep down, and far within
Toils with the rocks the roaring linn;
Then issuing forth one foamy wave,
And wheeling round the giant’s grave
White as the snowy charger’s tail
Drives down the pass of Moffatdale.”

20/03/2013 – Starting from the RSPB car park (NY 5886 5847) just past Clesketts, we headed south to climb Cold Fell. A bonus before we got to the hill were the fantastic cup marked stones at Tortie. After that I knew this was going to be a good day. There is a track for most of the way but the last Km is a bit tough. The snow line was about 320m so it was hard going today but the wind wasn’t too bad and it was quite sunny. The cairn on the summit has a big footprint but has been severely altered in more recent times. It was quite beautiful up there and I will not forget my visit to this place. I would love to go up in the summer to see what it’s like someday.

19/03/2013 – Starting from the church car park at Tundergarth Mains (NY 1754 8080) we headed south down the track to Burnswark Hill. If you have the time this is a lovely approach to the hill. What can I say about this hill apart from it has it all. A hillfort, an ancient cairn, a Roman fort and a Fairy Craig. There’s probably much more. It’s an amazing place. I had been looking forward to my visit here and it didn’t disappoint. My favourite was the Fairy Craig. A must visit.

18/03/2013 – Not many places to park round here. There’s just room for a car at the junction north of Hightown farm (NY 0304 8418). We took the track over Hightown Hill to the hillfort on White Hill. Not much to see but it’s a lovely area with nice views. Saw our first lambs of the year on the way back down. Cold and windy day.

18/03/2013 – I like this one a lot. Easy access along signposted track from road to the south. Good ramparts and brilliant location with fantastic views across the Nith estuary. There’s even a bench to sit on and lose a few hours. A quiet place. Caerlaverock Castle nearby is also a must see.

16/03/2013 – Parked car at start of forest track on the east side of The Mount (NT 1001 4143). Short climb on pretty snowy tracks lead to the cairn on top. Not much to see cairn wise, small modern cairn on top of it, but the walk was nice with good views over to Broughton Heights.

Visited 22.3.13

Directions:
Take the A49 north, out of Hereford, and then the minor road on the right signposts Moreton On Lugg then Sutton St Nicholas. When you enter the village of Sutton St Nicholas turn right (south) at the cross roads. Shortly after crossing the bridge the stone is easily visible in a field to your left.

It has been a long time since I ‘hugged a stone’ and I was looking forward to visiting this site.
Unfortunately I had to settle for a view from the road.
Between the road and the stone is a ditch which presumably is there to assist with field drainage? Due to the wet weather the ditch was now a small stream – too deep to wade through / too wide to jump across.

However, the stone is easily seen from road and has a small metal fence surrounding it to protect it from farm machinery etc. Which I guess is something to be applauded.

Pity I couldn’t get to touch it though……………..

Visited 22.3.13

Directions:
Take the A49 north, out of Hereford, and then the minor road on the right signposts Moreton On Lugg then Sutton St Nicholas. You will come to a posh house on your right called Pool House and a yellow grit box. The track leading to the Hillfort is directly opposite – between two houses. There is a public right of way up the track although no sign indicating this.
I passed a dead badger on the verge – no doubt knocked over by a car? This was the third dead badger I had seen next to a road today.

The track is well made which makes walking up it easy. There is a locked gate you walk past to prevent vehicles being driven up the track. It is only a 5 minutes walk to the Hillfort from the main road.

As you approach the very large defensive rampart the track becomes less well maintained and increasingly muddy. The track cuts right through the rampart and you get a good appreciation of how substantial it is. It is at least 3m high – possibly 4m. The whole of the rampart is covered in trees and bushes.

Once inside the Hillfort it is difficult to get an idea of the layout due to the entire interior being overgrown with trees, bushes, brambles etc. Although it is obvious that this is a very large site. ‘Paths’ criss/cross the interior of the Hillfort. Whilst walking up the track the rain had turned to hail and now sleet – it was a bit nippy and unsurprisingly I had the site to myself. Only TMAers would be daft enough to visit in this weather!

Due to the trees surmounting the rampart and the low clouds, rain/hail/sleet it wasn’t possible to appreciate the view although it was clear that the Hillfort occupies a very prominent position in the surrounding flat landscape and would have made an ideal location.

In his ‘Guide to Prehistoric England’ (page 150/151) Nicholas Thomas states that the Hillfort encompasses an area of 29 acres. Adding that the ‘massive’ single ditch rampart has two original entrances (E+W) and that the (N+S) entrances are modern. Interestingly Mr Thomas adds that shortly before the Roman invasion the defences were strengthened although this did no good as the site was attacked in AD48 and a slaughter followed with 24 defenders being thrown in the ditch suffering from battle injuries / decapitation. The site continued to be used throughout the Romano-British period and a large iron anvil was found which is now in the Hereford Museum. Apparently this is one of the largest Pre-Roman cast iron objects ever found in Britain.

All in all this site is well worth a visit when in the area although other than the formidable rampart don’t expect to make much else out due to the vegetation.

Continuing north, I take a left (west) at the crossroads. A few yards on, a metal right of way sign points south for a bridleway and north for a footpath. I take the latter, for this leads very conveniently to the Saintbury round barrow. This could easily be overlooked as just another ploughed down barrow in the Cotswolds, but Carl’s previous notes indicate that it’s worthy of attention. He climbed up from Saintbury to the north, whereas my route takes me northwards downhill to the barrow. It’s very muddy and the hill seems to teem with springs, so I’m glad to be wearing my waterproofs, even as the sun has now come out.

The barrow is quite a way down the sloping field, and is not visible until I’m practically on top of it. Before it comes into view, there is the rather surreal sight of the top of the lofty (ha) spire of Saintbury church appearing below me. The barrow itself is small, but quite well preserved for these parts, with the possible remains of an infilled ditch around it. As Carl notes, the positioning is terrific. Perched just above the steeper part of the scarp, the views are wonderful indeed. To the northeast, trees block Meon Hill fort, but otherwise there is an expansive panorama, from Bredon Hill, the distant Malverns, across into Mid-Wales and at the furthest limit of my sight, Titterstone Clee and Brown Clee, maybe 60 miles away and near where I grew up. The darker, wooded hills in front of them possibly even include Croft Ambrey, the fort I used to visit on Boxing Day walks. Breathtaking.

Leaving Kiftsgate Stone, the Way follows the Mile Drive, a broad, grassy path that would make for easy walking if less wet underfoot. At the end there are two fields of mud to cross (lovely), after which I take my main detour of the day, heading north alongside the Roman Buckle Street. My next site is one that I am not by any means hopeful about. Despite being a very decent-sized fort, Willersey Camp has had the misfortune of having a golf course dumped onto it, the construction of which, according to Pastscape, caused “considerable damage” to the fort. Approaching from the south, any views are obstructed by a thick screen of leylandii, that well-known native Cotswold species. A bit further along the road is the Dormy Hotel, built right on the SE corner of the fort. I walk up the drive towards the reception, hoping to get a bit of rampart action. The drive cuts through the bank and I manage to get a picture in. However, the CCTV signs don’t lie and it’s barely a minute before a uniformed functionary emerges to ask me if I need any “help”. I get the impression that the response “I’d like to have a look at the hillfort” would be as well-received as “I’ve come to steal your silver teaspoons”, so decline the offer and return to the road.

The road follows the old line of the eastern rampart, but apart from a bit of “rough” (in the golfing sense) there’s nothing to see here. A low mound can be seen silhouetted on the skyline in the middle of the course and I think this is probably the poor remains of the long barrow. Having been accosted once, I’m not keen to have another go, so I don’t follow Carl’s admirable example. In any case, I’m not acceptably attired for the course, wearing neither a turtleneck shirt, tailored shorts, or golf shoes. I imagine there would be a scene at such a blatant breach of the dress code. I carry on past the clubhouse.

As Carl said, the wooded area alongside the road is the place to come. There is indeed quite a bit of litter (tut) but the ramparts here are very impressive. The outer rampart is several metres high, with a slighter, inner rampart that hasn’t been encroached upon by the golf course. It’s a shame the rest of the fort has been so badly treated in comparison, because it must have been a fine site.

After drinking in the views for a while, I carry on off the hilltop. Here the Cotswold Way follows a busier road and has been moved off the verge and slightly down the slope, out of sight of the road. But I choose to stick to the verge instead, because my first stop-off of the day beckons. I remember Carl having trouble finding this stone, and as I pass a locked and chicken-wired gate I wonder if it’s going to be particularly accessible. I’m therefore very pleased to see it from the road, through a little gap into the trees. Access is as easy as can be, the stone is only yards from the road (it’s quite a way northeast of the layby that Carl refers to).

I didn’t really know what to expect from this “disputed antiquity”. It turns out to be a dinky little irregular limestone slab, heavily moss-covered and orientated with the long side SW-NE, parallel with the road. As reported, it has a (blocked) hole through it. On the NW face of the stone, the hole has the appearance of being counter-sunk, although whether this was intentional or caused by something inserted into the hole being turned and causing wear I can’t say. Apart from the hole, it’s not obviously worked, but the thick moss and the years of wear could easily mask any signs that might be there. I really like it, hidden away and passed by lots of unsuspecting drivers every day. I wouldn’t want to commit to its antiquity, but it’s worth paying your respects if you come this way. A promising start to the day, anyway.

This shattered cairn, the eastern-most of a triumvirate of such Bronze Age upland monuments sited to the approx south-east of the Ffawddog Ridge of the eastern Black Mountains, would appear – from the map, at least – to offer a credible approach from most points of the compass (which, of course, any prospective TMA Citizen Cairn’d will be tightly clasping within a hand clammy with anticipation, if not soaked through courtesy of the borderland precipitation not exactly unknown in these parts!). The most direct route is probably that from Llanthony via Troed rhiw-mon, a public footpath rising above the southern bank of the stream cascading through Cwm Bwchel.... however having ‘taken in’ the Cwm Bwchel cairn earlier on in the day I approach from the summit of Bal Mawr, that is from the west across trackless heather. I’ve experienced worse, however, as will have everyone who has ever gone stone hunting in Mid Wales. Needless to say the direct route, although steep in places, proves invaluable during a descent in fading light later on in the day.

The monument, located below and to the south of the summit of the hill, is unfortunately in a sorry state of repair.... Coflein reports of an excavation-cum-ransacking of the cairn – incidentally resulting in the discovery of ‘bone fragments and pottery sherds’ from a centrally placed cist – no doubt tell us all we need to know in this respect. Hey, at least we know for certain this cairn was – hell, is – the real thing. That doesn’t happen very often, to be fair.... to be 100% sure is pretty unusual. In addition, the shattered remains of the cist, as with the monument’s neighbour to the north-west, remain in situ. This means a lot. One of the orthostats is split longitudinally, the cleft of such precision as to render the result an enduring testament to the incredible natural forces inherent in the action of ice upon rock. Exquisite....

So, once again.... here we have an upland Bronze Age cairn – albeit one ravaged by ‘excavation’ – still retaining vestiges of original internal features simply because it lies ‘off the beaten track’, away from the predictable wanderings and destructive tendencies of yer average hillwalking punter. The realisation, at first overwhelmingly positive, leaves a bitter aftertaste. How much more of our Bronze Age heritage would still remain if only ignorant ramblers could keep their vandalising hands to themselves and not indulge in erecting pointless ‘storm shelters’. A rhetorical question, naturally.

The Graig-ddu cairn, though similar in many respects to its counterpart beyond Cwm Bwchel, certainly trumps it when it comes to on site panoramas. Whereas the latter stands in insularity, apparently focussed upon Bal Mawr, Graig-ddu overlooks a classic vista, the glorious southern skyline featuring the distinctive profiles of Mynydd Pen-y-Fal (aka The Sugar Loaf) and the sacred-hill-cum-hillfort of Ysgyryd Fawr, with the mighty Iron Age fortress of Twyn y Gaer rising between. The great promontory fort upon Hatterrall Hill fills the horizon to the south-east, the ridge to the south-west duly crowned by the (apparently) massive Bronze Age cairn of Garn Wen, the third of the triumvirate. It is truly a classic spot, much better than I supposed and worthy of much more time than the cycles of Nature will allow. Sadly I ascend to the summit and subsequently begin the descent to Llanthony, pausing by some grouse butts to enjoy a truly monumental, mind blowing view of the Vale of Ewyas. Suffice to say the irony, being privy to such natural wonder whilst perched upon the haunts of... er... ‘individuals’ who enjoy killing for pleasure, is not lost on me.

Set deep within the beautiful borderland Vale of Ewyas overlooked by the lofty, parallel ridges of the eastern Black Mountains, the little hamlet of Llanthony perhaps represents the very epitome of ‘rural tranquility’. The vernacular settlement name apparently translates as ‘Church of St Dewi on the River Hoddni’... however it is the ruins of the priory, established (according to CADW) around 1100, which provide the architectural focal point nowadays. Turner came here to undertake a preliminary sketch in 1792; less favourable visits include a severe thrashing during Glyndwr’s uprising, not to mention Henry VIII’s dissolution. Illustrious – and not so – names from the past aside, Llanthony has much to offer the modern day traveller, particularly since the large, free car park provides a fine gateway to the aforementioned mountain ridges with all their Bronze Age treasures. I’m here today to ascend The Ffawddog Ridge rising above Cwm Bwchel, the pretty comprehensive cloud cover not ideal, although not an issue as long as the cloud base kindly refrains from descending for a committee meeting with the landscape...

Upon exiting the car park look for a public footpath – signposted ‘Bal Mawr’ – across the main (ha!) road, said path shortly crossing the Afon Honddi, via a steel bridge, prior to beginning the ascent above the northern (right hand) bank of the stream cascading down Cwm Bwchel. The path is steep and uneven, as you would no doubt expect, intermittent icy patches adding an appropriately wintry, not to mention slippery vibe to proceedings. The ‘going’ eventually eases as I reach the headwall of the cwm, the bare ridge of Bal Mawr crowning the bleak horizon ahead. Here it is necessary to abandon the path and veer right (approx north) in order to locate amongst the heather a tangiable reminder of the people who lived and worshipped their gods in this small corner of Wales millennia before The Bastard and his bleedin’ Normans arrived bearing trumped up apologia for conquest. Locating the Bronze Age cairn is not easy, to be fair, probably even less so in high summer when the hillside’s covering of heather is at its zenith. However a glint of exposed stone eventually gives the game away.

Despite its isolation away from the main path to the bwlch the cairn is very denuded. However there is an inherent detail which makes the effort expended getting here more than worthwhile, namely two large side slabs of a former cist remaining in situ, quite a rarity in upland cairns nowadays, it has to be said. Oh, not to mention that fabulous ‘hear a pin drop’ upland aura. Two details, then. Furthermore, as I recline betwixt the stones and drink my coffee, it appears to me that there may well be a case for suggesting the chamber was intentionally aligned toward the southernmost aspect of Bal Mawr... that is to say there was a direct association between mountain and monument? This aside, views are otherwise limited, the cairn apparently located so as to remain aloof from the pastoral wonders of the Vale of Ewyas far below to the east. Perhaps to ensure all focus was upon Bal Mawr? Yeah... the situation is bleak, brutal even. A wondrous place for contemplation.

As I sit and ponder I notice my poor old 1:25k OS map, annotated to within an inch of incomprehension over the years, nevertheless indicates another cairn in antiquarian typescript located upon the far (southern) flank of Graig-ddu, the hill rising beyound the head of Cwm Bwchel to the approx south-east. I decide it’d be rude not to pay a visit seeing as I’m in the area..... following a venerative sojourn upon Bal Mawr of my own, that is. I reckon the former occupant and builders of this now lonely – but once perhaps not so lonely – cairn above Cwm Bwchel would approve. It’s the least I can do in the circumstances.

This chambered cairn will be taken by the sea in some years. It is directly situated at the current cliff edge and the weather keeps unveiling more and more of the interior. Perfect nesting ground for fulmars, though. Therefore always approach it from the sea if you want to respect the birds and don’t want to be spat at. Luckily they always missed hitting me, so far.
19.06.2012

Holy or sacred wells don’t do well on TMA – they usually get the ‘of disputed antiquity’ tag – so when on reading in Gary Branigan’s book, The Ancient & Holy Wells of Dublin, that St.Mobhi’s Well near Skerries had a “number of cup marks present on some of the boulders, pointing to possible Neolithic origin” I had to pay a visit.

The site is marked on OS sheet 43 at the right-hand side of a track in Milverton Demesne. The entrance to this contains a stile, and indeed 20 yards to its right there is a hand-written sign that says “Please use the stile” attached to some barbed wire. This barbed wire blocks off the old pathway to the well. After traversing the stile you need to turn right immediately and follow the old path, not the seductive track that we were fooled into taking, thus having to climb a thorn-covered wall and cross the stream that flows beside the well.

The old well is impressively, even megalithically, constructed. The huge boulder at the back of the well-house rests on some stones like a portal tomb. This is the only boulder that we could find that had anything resembling cup marks. To quote the book again: “These cup marks are said to be the finger impressions of the mythical Fionn MacCumhaill when he threw these boulders from nearby Lusk.” Most of the rest of the other stones were covered in ivy so we didn’t find any more that had cup marks, but the ones that were most visible looked like solution pits, though it’s hard for me to be categoric about that.
The stairs down into the well are are well-worked flagstones. As you descend, there is a bullaun in a recess on the right-hand side. This is a craggy old, shallow-basined example but is said to contain the cure (for warts, toothache, headache and disorders of the throat).

As we arrived at the well a robin fluttered out from the main chamber of the well-house. This well-house is quite crudely (in the most gentle sense) constructed. The walls are of boulders and support a large, flat capstone/flagstone. This has then been covered over with larger boulders giving the well-house a conical shape. The water had leaf and other detritus so I didn’t fancy a taste.

This is a site well worth visiting, with relatively easy access and parking by the burial ground nearby. My instinct says that the construction around the spring of the well is not ancient in the TMA sense. However, there are two christian crosses here, carved into two separate stones and looking like a sly attempt to christianise the site. How will we ever find out its provenance? I guess the only way is through excavation, but the attendant folklore about Fionn, the supposed cup marks, and some of the methods of construction here leave one thinking of pre-christian possibilities.

14th March 2013.

For all my frequent trips to Uffington, Wayland’s Smithy is an oft-missed destination. I’ve always viewed the area like a theme park of the ancient world. No matter how determined, you never really get to go on all the rides.

This time round, the delights of the Ridgeway and Wayland’s Smithy were top on the list and the first thing I made for. The journey along Britain’s oldest road was contemplative and inspiring enough, with the arrival at the Smithy a just reward for such pilgrimage.

My decision to go in the early afternoon on a weekday was well placed. With most folk at work I had the chance to soak in the Smithy’s charm undisturbed. Free from the click of cameras and excitable children jumping up and down on the capstone.

The Smithy is a monument that commands respect. Four stone guardians stand watch over the entrance to the inner sanctum, flanked by a horseshoe of trees. To clamber at will over the monument doesn’t seem right; one has to be invited to cross the threshold and experience the Smithy’s secrets.

Once I’d perceived permission was given, I discovered a new secret as I passed the gateway into the cruciform chamber. An arrangement of wild flowers lay in the middle of the terminal chamber, no doubt an offering from another pilgrim who arrived before me.

It wasn’t the only gift. On closer inspection, I noticed a number of coins inserted in the crevices of the pock-marked sarsen standing left to the entrance. The legend of Wayland sprang to mind, with visitors perhaps asking the smith to shod their wishes in place of the traditional horse. I left a similar offering of my own in a free space, before standing back to regard the Smithy one last time before heading back up the Ridgeway.

In the tranquility of the moment, it was almost as if I heard the Smithy speak. “Don’t leave it so long next time,” it said. And on such a similar well-placed day in the future, I won’t.

From East Kennett church I took the byway up to the right, circling East Kennett Longbarrow from a distance. I overshot it to explore Harestone Down SC, and if my way onward to Little Avebury hadn’t been blocked, I probably wouldn’t have ventured any closer to the great mound – just taking a picture from afar. Instead I had to descend the track back towards Manor farm, passing by the end of the barrow.
After passing by and looking back up to it against the sky, level with the horizon, suddenly it began to dawn on me how big the thing actually was.
Although, obviously a different beast from WKLB, EKLB has such an unexplorable wildness to it.
Could’ve spent longer, but saw the farmer milling around below, and the wind was biting now, so walked on (...past the sign saying “no admittance”). Whoops.....looked ok on the map, and the farmer said nothing, so.....

It took me a return visit the next day to finally find the Devil’s Den (the day earlier I taken the wrong byway, only to spot the Den down in the valley below, as the light faded, and the weather worsened).
But, on this morning I was determined to visit it, and so the walk from Clatford, through the ankle-twisting frozen ridges of mud was always going to be worth it.
Sitting peacefully in a little amphitheatre of surrounding slopes, the monument looks more striking from a little distance away. Could have stayed for longer, soaking up the place, despite the bitter cold.

Thought I’d finish my Avebury area tour by checking out East Kennett Longbarrow, Little Avebury and Harestone Down SC.
Parked near the church, and headed up towards the circle in gale force winds and a temperature of just below zero. It was a battle between sunshine and snow flurries, with both trying to break from the clouds.
Harestone Down initially appeared underwhelming, but the longer I spent looking around the more I could get a sense of place. As I passed the seemingly randomly placed collected stones beneath the platform of the circle, and headed off in the direction of Little Avebury I found the way fenced off. Whilst walking down towards East Kennett Longbarrow, I looked back up at the circle, and that was when it really revealed itself, up on the ridge above.
Coupled with the massive EKLB, I glad I braved the cold.

Kinda cheating here a bit as I didn’t actually visit the site – visiting strictly by invitation only. Lambay is meant to be rich in neolithic heritage – the site of an axe factory. Love to go there some day.