Latest Fieldnotes

March 12, 2013

With the unexpected return of winter I took my chance when the morning cloud broke into welcome sunshine. The plan was to visit some of the stone circles around Inverurie, starting with Balquhan.

All seemed well as sunshine followed me all the way to Balquhan Mains where I parked just off the crossroads. Bennachie looked grand with its cap of snow gleaming in the sun as I set off on the walk through the farm to the circle. But as I approached the monument, the skies started to darken, Bennachie disappeared into the gloom, and I realised I had just minutes to enjoy sunlit views of the circle.

I made it in time and was rewarded with some splendid wintry photographs of Balquhan Stone Circle. I used a monopod to gain height and the elevated view was quite revealing. Another set of photographs was combined into an excellent panorama.

Conditions showed no signs of improving as I returned to the car, and minutes after I moved off it started to snow. Inland it looked bleak indeed, and I reluctantly headed back home.

I walked the long way to Mount Misery and all I found was joy.
This impressive cairn is meant to be of the Maes Howe type.
It has been used by the lighthouse keepers to store potatoes in the past, so they say.
It is now used by fulmars as a breeding place so when I went I didn’t want to disturb my favourite birds too much. Otherwise it would have made as a great resting place.

**Please note that this site does not correspond to the prominent – presumably modern (see relevant image) – marker cairn crowning the tip of Mynydd Bychan’s summit ridge at SO1968032030.... but to a less upstanding – but potentially much older – low ‘mound’ situated some way to the approx east**

A week characterised by a series of rather low cloud bases – anathema to those who tread lightly upon the hills ‘neath massive skies – ends, appropriately enough for unpredictable South Wales, with the promise of a fine day. Consequently a snap decision is taken to introduce the Mam C to the upper reaches of the wondrous ridge of Y Grib, beyond Bwlch Bach a’r Grib.... and take it from there. Not a comprehensive plan, then, although it has to be said it is always good to turn a ‘must do it one day’ into ‘let’s do it today’. So, leaving the car near the farm of Blaneau Uchaf, the farmer, in hulking great cattle truck, acknowledging a self preservingly considerate bit of parking, we ascend the northern flank of the serpent’s back to the aforementioned pass. Pausing to breathlessly take in the primeval sight of a crow – the top bird around these parts, bar none – make mince meat of what the Mam C reckons is a peregrine falcon against a western backdrop of Bronze Age cairn and the enigmatic Castell Dinas, the eyes are soon inexorably drawn across Cwm y Nant to the handsome crests of Mynydd Bychan and Y Das. The latter is cited by Coflein as possessing a round barrow, only identified as such during a CPAT upland survey during 2007.... the prominent, slender rock pile crowning the former apparently a modern ‘marker cairn’. To be fair it looks to be ‘in the wrong place’ for a Bronze Age funerary cairn, the ridge seemingly too narrow at that point, or at least appearing so upon the map. Having said that there is undeniably ‘something’ about Mynydd Bychan, an intangible sense of mystique that nevertheless draws us in like one of James T Kirk’s tractor beams... and this despite being completely unaware of TSC’s miscellaneous post at the time. In short Mynydd Bychan simply looks the sort of place where one would choose to intern a Bronze Age VIP. The plan, such as it was, is duly revised to include a descent via the peak. Yeah, we’ll worry about the gradient of descent when we get there....

The ascent of Y Grib to Pen-y-Manllwyn is exhilarating, the ridge narrow enough to see below to either side, but nowhere too exposed or technical for the average pilgrim. Upon arrival we abandon the lee of the summit ridge in order to seek solitude away from the route marching groups of punters, happy to accept the consequences of a biting arctic wind in lieu. The north-eastern flank of the mountain, subject to an icy blast which might even have made Jean-Claude Van Damme consider a jacket, is today a shimmering mass of sunlight upon icicle... the two primary sources of life on this planet interacting in a display of exquisite beauty upon such a brutal landscape. A delicious irony, perhaps?

Lunch... hey, picnic.... and a couple of hours fly by... as they seem to always do up here. All too soon we must head north where the ridge is populated by a series of indistinct ‘stone features’ previously interpreted – or so I understand – as evidence of prehistoric settlement, expertly positioned in the lee of the ridge overlooking Cwm y Nant, fresh water nearby. Although living at around the 2,500ft contour may seem pretty extreme to us nowadays, the 1:25K OS map does indeed cite a hut circle here.... which needless to say we do not manage to positively identify. Nevertheless it would appear Coflein are now more inclined toward a later ‘post prehistoric’ date for habitation. Whatever, it must have been a pretty dramatic place to live.

It is here that the walk takes on an altogether more serious aspect, the Mam C suddenly complaining of feeling faint and losing her sense of balance / co-ordination as we approach Mynydd Bychan. A touch of sunstroke, perhaps? Or overheating caused by not adjusting layers of clothing to changing circumstances quickly enough. What else could bring on such symptoms with such alacrity? Hopefully a short rest by the frozen tarn as I take some pictures of the truly exquisite scenery upon Mynydd Bychan will do the trick?

So, what of Mynydd Bychan’s ‘marker cairn’. Sad to report that the base certainly looks modern to me, far too insubstantial to claim any prehistoric origin. There is an interesting feature a little to the east, however, but since I recall quarrying was supposed to have taken place here in times past I’m not sure what it represents. Ha! According to Coflein, as related in TSC’s post, this is actually the ‘platform cairn’. So there you are... the mountain probably was the resting place of some Bronze Age dude after all. What’s more there is another feature a short distance downhill to the west of the marker cairn which appeared a much more likely candidate without the power of hindsight, a disrupted cairn containing what – for all the world – looks to me like a shattered cist (ironically Coflein reckons this represent quarrying debris?). The overwhelming fiery orb of the low winter sun frustrates further photography so I return to the Mam C and find the rest has not had the desired effect.... far from it... and, to be frank, we are in trouble, the acute descent to Cwm y Nant, not a problem under normal circumstances, now a major obstacle with sundown just an hour away. Never underestimate the strength and sheer determination of a woman, however... at least one with such a concentration of natural life forces flowing through her being. Where she got the strength from I’ll never know. But there you are. The descent is not elegant, but it gets the job done. Safely back at the car we pledge that we shall return to Mynydd Bychan one day, given the chance, and give this complex mountain the time it clearly deserves. Not to mention to pay the ancestors due respect for seeing us alright that day....

Several days later back in Essex I’m struck down by a severe bout of gastroenteritis seemingly coming out of nowhere. Most definitely not ‘sunstroke’, then. Case closed, m’lud. Needless to say I shudder to think what I would have made of such a daunting challenge.... feeling like that on top of Mynydd Bychan. Hey, always wanted a ride in a helicopter... but not like that.

Now here’s a thing: I couldn’t get access to this as it’s on the grounds of a chocolate factory! I was told by the security guard that I might get permission and be given a guided tour if I came back the following day, Monday.

Here’s another thing: There is no mention of this in Tom Fourwind’s book on prehistoric Dublin and I had never heard of it until reading Joseph E. Doyle’s Ten Dozen Waters: The Rivers and Streams of County Dublin. Indeed, there it sits not 20 metres from the Santry river, just before it flows under the Malahide road. Doyle calls it a tumulus. It is mentioned on the Wikipedia page for the Santry river and it is on the archaeology.ie National Monuments database, number DU015-074-, added by Geraldine Stout no less.

So why isn’t it more widely known? It’s right there, less than a stone’s (cough) throw from one of the busiest roads in the north suburbs.

A solitary slab about 150 metres south-east below the wedge tomb. Is this the only surviving stone of a second wedge tomb? The Arch. Survey of Co. Donegal says that: “The 2nd and 3rd editions of the OS maps show two stones here but there is no visible trace of the second stone.” So maybe... but if so, why would the destroyers leave just one (or two) stone(s) standing?

A bitterly cold, wind-lashed day on a boggy hill two miles due east of Buncrana. Twenty metres into the field is Meenkeeragh wedge tomb, almost hiding away in the rushes. It’s survived all this time reasonably well and even retains some of its dignity amongst the monstrous wind turbines that unrelentingly whirl and whoop as we ponder the past and the future.

There’s quite a bit left to see. The gallery seems to be split into two chambers but I’m not sure if the dividing stone is not a slipped roofstone. The whole uncovered tomb is filled with rubble which seems to have come from the structure itself. The three stones that make up the portico/facade are really rather beautiful, the middle one leaning out from the tomb gracefully. Double walling is visible on both sides but more obvious on the south. Much of the tomb is still buried in its covering cairn.

The huge windmills do detract from the atmosphere, though the freezing gale that nearly blew us to hell put paid to much of our musings – and made obvious why this place was picked to help fuel the never-ending thirst that we all have for energy.

Visited 9.3.13

Due to family commitments it was not possible to get away this weekend for a spot of ‘old stoning’ so a local re-visit was in order.

Although I have visited this Hillfort a couple of times previously I was keen to have another visit after watching the recent Time team episode filmed there.
I was hoping to see where they had put the trenches in.

Dafydd was out with his sister so this was a rare opportunity for a trip out with just Sophie – who duly obliged by falling asleep in the car! This resulted in a rather problematic scramble up the steep hillside mention in my previous fieldnotes whilst trying to carry a sleeping 2 year old! Somehow I managed to get to the top but it wasn’t long before the cold biting wind woke Sophie up – she was not impressed!

We walked up and over the medieval ditches and past the ruined church – still overgrown and showing the signs of recent visits from the locals – empty vodka bottles etc.

We soon arrived at the field behind the church with is the centre of the Hillfort – today occupied by 5 horses – which Sophie insisted in calling cows and shouting ‘moo’ to them! Needless to say the horses ignored us.

We climbed over the fence and walked around the perimeter of the Hillfort.
It was very muddy and I wished I had worn the wellies I had left in the car.
There was little left to see in terms of defences although there were the remains of a rampart in places – approx 1m high. This is one of those Hillforts where they must have relied heavily on the steepness of the sides to act as the main deterrent.

At the far (western) end of the field appeared to be the original entrance to the site which had banks still standing around 2m in height. However, I couldn’t investigate any further as the ‘entrance’ was more like a swamp with standing water at least 1ft deep. Again, I wished I had worn my wellies.

Looking around the field I could see no trace of the Time Team trenches. Either they were backfilled very carefully or the trenches were the other side of the ‘entrance’? The only thing I could make out were two very faint curving ‘ditches’ crossing the site. I have no idea if these are prehistoric or not or even if they are natural? The whole site is surrounded by trees and bushes.

By now it was getting very cold and Sophie was getting very restless. It had also started to rain. We headed back across the site, past the church and back down the hill – which was even harder than trying to get up it. We slipped and slithered down and I managed to pull a muscle in my arm as I grabbed onto a branch to avoid falling – which Sophie found amusing!
By the time we got back to the car we were muddy, cold and wet – I was also in a lot of pain.

Time to go home…………………

I came here from the wonder that is Wet Withens, from that stone circle head west and slightly south, keeping to the edge of the land, when your among the hill tops make for the large boulders, one of which has a large basin upon it, and a possible cup mark.
From these large rocks head down hill, north, the cairn will come into view to the right of the footpath.
Of course things didn’t go as smoothly for me, The Peak district turns me around, confuses me, and sends me the wrong way, I was in one place but thought I was somewhere else I ended up at the trig point near the radio mast before realising my gaff. Turning around I followed an ageing couple I’d seen earlier enjoying a brew down off the rocky edge and hey presto a ring cairn with much cuppy goodness.
It would be much easier approaching straight from the road, where a footpath follows along a wall, or more direct follow the line of knackered grouse butts, and heaps of ruination they should be, game birds indeed, I don’t think they enjoy the “game” much.

The cairn is fairly self evident, a rare flat topped round cairn apparently. From some angles it melts seamlessly into the surroundings, but from others it stands up and proud, like the Withens and it’s cairn the heather is trying it’s best to hide and obscure it’s treasures. It should be treated like the weed it is, Dictionary says a weed is simply a plant that is growing where you don’t want it. An exact definition of intrusive heather if ever ive heard one.
But of course it’s the profusely cup marked stone that brings me here, the stone is generally squarish, cups cover the top and two sides. Big cups they are too, how the stone stayed in one piece whilst someone continuously bashed at it I cannot say, grit stone isn’t that strong is it ?
I have a quick look for the other nearby cup marked stone but time has run out, the curse that is the mobile phone has come upon me, now ive got an hour and a half to get back in time for the school run. The other cupped stone and the other Withens circles will bring me back at least once more.
A great way to end a great day in the Peak.

The first time I came here I gave up after losing my map, the second time I had one or both kids with me and the visit didn’t really stay with me and I can barely remember it at all, this time I was all tooled up for a proper visit, much prior planning, and most importantly, it’s just me.
I took the long route as per usual (wont next time though) and spotted the cairn first, after a perusal of this impressive stone gathering I sit atop a rather suspicious mound and survey the Wet Withens.

What is a Withen I wonder, and why are they wet ? as strange site names go this is a good one.

What impressed me most was the bank around the stones, its dead visible on Google earth and from the mound that I sit upon. I walk slowly over to the ring and enter it somewhat reverentially. A really good feeling came over me, it was like I was seeing it for the first time. Like an Indian man meeting his chosen intended for the first time, and, Wow shes a looker.
It was also much bigger than I remember it, god, how long has it been, this was one of the first non Big Orange Book sites I went to. And more stones too, plus Ive no recollection of there being carved initials in many of the stones, but there are. Its like ive never been here before, is it just the passage of time or did I not see it all properly or did I travel to an alternate reality, probably the former.
In the middle of the circle is a weird depression, first time ive seen that too.
But no matter how wonderful and ridiculous my time spent here, the higher rocks over to the east are pulling me away, to that other Eyam target of mine Stanage ring cairn and it’s fantastical carved stone.

Visited 6.3.13

Directions:
There are several minor roads which run across Minchinhampton Common.
One of the roads runs right through The Bulwarks Dyke.

I have only ever visited a couple of Dykes in the past but this is probably the second most impressive I have seen (after a superb section of Offa’s Dyke near Knighton).

The Dyke is very obvious and snakes across the Common.
The banks still stand to around 2m in height – from the base of the ditch

Well worth a look when visiting the nearby Whitfields Tump Long Barrow.

***
In the excellent book Prehistoric England by Nicholas Thomas (page 131) there is a nice photo of a section of the Dyke being excavated. You can see how well constructed it was. In the book it is referred to as Minchinhampton Enclosure and is said to be over 1 mile long enclosing an area of 600 acres. The excavation found the original ditch to have been 6ft deep and 12ft wide. Interestingly the book states the Dyke may have been built by Caratacus following his defeat by the Romans. (Don’t think it would have stopped the Romans for very long!)

Visited 6.3.13

Directions:
There are several minor roads which run across Minchinhampton Common.
Two of the roads run either side of the Long Barrow.

I like visiting sites on Commons.
Firstly, you can walk about wherever you like without any problems and
Secondly it is usually very easy to park.
As is the case here, although you do have to keep an eye out for low flying golf balls!

It took a few minutes to spot the Barrow as it blends in with the various golf bunkers.
In fact, if you didn’t know what it was you would think it was a bunker!

The Barrow is well mangled and sits right next to one of the greens.
It is approx 1m high x 30m long x 10m across.
The centre has been dug out and it now resembles a horse shoe in shape.
There were several stones sticking out of the grass in the centre of the depression.

As I said, I like visiting Commons but it was by now getting dark and we were well late in getting home to pick the children up. Time to go……….

Visited 6.3.13

Directions:
Taking the A432 north out of Bristol, take the turning left along Cuckoo Lane shortly after crossing over the M4. Turn left into Bury Hill Road and then right into Mill Road.
On your right you will see an access lane to a house signposted ‘private’ and shortly after that a public footpath sign also on the right. There is room to pull in next to the footpath sign.
All you then need to do is walk up the handily provided stone steps leading to the site.

Although the directions given sound fairly straightforward it took quite a while to locate the Hillfort despite being armed with an O/S map. However, the effort was well worth while.

Oddly enough I see that Xseawitch has recently posted a fieldnote about this site but my findings were much more successful.

The walk up the steps through the trees is a very pretty climb. It would have been a difficult walk without the steps as it is very steep. At the top you arrive at the garden wall (of said ‘private’ lane fame) and then you can enjoy walking pretty much through their ‘private’ garden as there is a public right of way! Access to the field/Hillfort is via a gate.

There were two horses grazing in the field who chose to ignore me.
The western side of the Hillfort showed few remaining signs of defences except for one stretch of banking which still stood to about 1m in height. It seems the builders were quite happy for the steep hillside to act as the main deterrent.
The eastern defences, where the ground is flat, provided the greater defences.
There is a single ditch / bank which still stands to an impressive height of about 2 metres (from the bottom of ditch). Much of this is now overgrown by trees and bushes.
The centre of the Hillfort seems to have lots of ‘lumps and bumps’ – I wonder what they are?

All in all this is a decent site to visit when in the area, requiring little walking other that the steep climb up the steps.

Arses. This is not easy to find !!!

Coming from the south, where the two paths diverge, I take the right hand path. All the way to a mostly fallen wall with two large gate post stones. Turn left from these stones and head exactly west, this should take you straight to the cairn. Unless like me you keep getting side tracked by the many small cairn like things.
Eventually I arrive at the cairn, it is situated on flat ground right next to where the heather covered earth falls quickly away to Hathersage just over a mile away. The heather is all consuming, stray from the path and your in a world of hurt.
Barrow or cairn ? i’ll go for cairn, for only a cairn can have cairn material, of which there is much. But its a seriously mangled cairn, difficult to determine it’s exact shape because of the dreaded heather (there is no such thing as lucky heather) and all the pits and hollows in the middle of the cairn. Hiding among its interior is a cup marked stone, couldn’t find it though.
Superb vistas north to many hills with various names of which I am mostly ignorant. But it is difficult to remain at the cairn for too long as the Wet Withens stone circle is just a few yards away. And just over the hill away is Stanage ring cairn with its terrifically cup marked stone, but getting there can be a bit of an arse.

Start and finish with an arse, yeaaah !

I first came up here a couple of years ago in mid summer, but was with full family and dogs, needless to say we didn’t get all the way up to the top.
Today it was round two, the weather was, shall we say, the decent side of crap and I’m well out of shape, but without any, errrrm hindrances ? I fancied my chances, in fact it was a total knockout.

Parking was had at the pay and display close to the entrance to Mam tor, I didn’t so I didn’t, I took a picture of the nice painting of Mam tor on the information board and started my way up. En route to the place of a ascension I noted a pair of iron age replicas carved on to earth fast rocks, a Torc, and a dagger, the dagger is under a celticly carved seat.
The way up is actually quite easy, it only gets steep a couple of times, but it gets really very muddy, luckily it was all frozen so progress went on apace. Plus the views open out immediately and are hugely enjoyed, the view of Mam tor is sufficient to get me up here on it’s own.

The top of the hill is flat and quite large , the barrow is sited as close to Mam tor as possible without coming down off the top. The barrow is about seven feet high and is getting eroded quite badly the footpath and bridleway is very close and too many feet have taken their toll on top, perhaps that’s the price you pay for being in the most visited National park in the world.
I was mightily disappointed to found out that the Lord in question was Mr Peveril of nearby castle building renown, surely a place like this up here with such a view should be named after Thee Lord, not many views like this one. Having said that the thin fog hid most of the distant hill sides, I was aware of it all out there, somewhere but could I see it ? Like fudge chocolate brownie I could.

Spent ages last August studying the O/S map, trying to find this hill fort.

We went up and down Bury Hill before discovering that the anonymous clearing we’d passed at the top was, in fact, the hill fort.

Nothing to see there except some butterflies, trees and nettles obscure any real view of the earthworks. May be better to go in Autumn or Winter when there is less foliage.

The plan was ephemeral at best, it was to watch the sunrise over Mam Tor from Lords seat barrow to the west. It would have worked too if it wasn’t for those pesky clouds, so the plan changed slightly and Green low became my first site of the day.
Parking was had at the large lay by at the junction of the Pennine bridleway and the long road from Chapel en le Frith to Mam tor, it is a good road.

It took about fifteen minutes to get from car to stones, at a brisk walk to keep the cold biting wind to a minimum, after the first copse of trees on the left the earthwork became visible in front and to the right, but it isn’t immediately definitely a cairn circle. But the bridleway takes us straight to it more or less just turn right off the path at a left turn, then up a bit.

Even when your stood right before it , it’s still not obviously a ring cairn, as has been said, it is rather hengiform, and a whiff of sea breeze from Dorset isn’t out of the question, robbed embanked stone circle is also a real possibility. Whatever it’s status, it is there, it’s easily spotted on Google earth, as is it’s lesser sibling to the east and also another ring above the two and in between them.
It sits on an east facing hill slope, some stones can be seen poking through the grass on the ring, and on the inner ring. The inner ring isn’t exactly ring shaped, it’s not in the center of the outer ring. It is a strange one, “after four thousand years look so good you will not”, Yoda would probably say, I cant disagree. All of the different variant forms of cairn, henge and stone circle could all look like each other or nothing like each other, pah , it’s impossible to tell from just looking at it, Time Teeeeam. Then again no, just Stewart Ainsworth, John Gater, don’t want no diggers here.

After wrapping my scarf round my face, god it’s cold, there’s still snow in places, I go for the now almost obligatory wander round the site from a distance, first I head west, half heartedly looking for the other lesser ring cairn , ive not much to go on I cant even remember where it is i’m supposed to be looking. From the fields edge the ring cairn is almost invisible, just a slight rise in the land, I head over into the trees north west of the site, peeking through the trees , although i’m now twenty feet higher than before its completely gone. More height is gained and the trees left behind, now I can see it, it’s far away though, but a bit of camera zoom brings it close. Now back down hill over the all but dry stream Bolehill Clough??? and I begin to get east of the circle and it gets more prominent. Not knowing it at the time, I’m now passing by another ringy feature visible on Google earth but not on the ground, is it another ring cairn or part of an as yet undiscovered settlement. I can see an ever so slight rise in the land over to me left so I sidle over and, it turns out to be other ring cairn. It is much smaller than the other greater ring cairn, and much more ground level. It is lesser in every way than its near nieghbour.

I try mostly in vain to photograph the little ring, it’s green on green and very much the shy one. I say a goodbye and go back towards the big ring, it’s here on this low hill across the beck??? that one gets the best view of it, a really big stone has been dropped into the sea of grass and ripples ensue outwards.
The fog is now, not so thick, the clouds not so overwhelming so I decide it’s time for a climb up to the Lords seat. I’m leaving now.

03/03/2013 – We parked just off the road where the Gordon Way crosses the B992 heading west to Knock Saul. There’s space for 2-3 cars (NJ 6108 2170). Walking south we passed the track to Towmill and took the Gordon Way heading NE. This took us to about 300m south of the circle. We left the path where it turns east to head up Bennachie (NJ 6170 2187). Climbing over the fence and crossing the Broclach Burn, we followed the field edges to the circle behind the deserted Druidstone Croft. This is quite a good way to the circle as you can see if the field is in crop. Field edges take you to within 30m. What a great circle this is. Stone wise, it’s pretty ruined but it doesn’t detract from the setting and feel of the place. Prone flankers still there and the big outlier is nice. Well worth a visit. It’s a nice place just to sit and watch the world go by.

Not much further down the road a footpath gives access to a field boasting two round barrows, Hindwell Farm I and II. Sadly, neither is exactly well-preserved, having been ploughed to within an inch of their (considerable) lives. But when viewed in the context of the other sites nearby, they should not be overlooked. The views to Bache Hill and The Whimble are inevitably fabulous.

Passing Hindwell Farm, a further barrow (Hindwell Ash) is visible in a field to the north, on the left (west) side of the round. An OS trig pillar has been inserted and the barrow proves to be in a poor state, crumbling away under the pillar on its northern flank. The fourth barrow in the group, Upper Ninepence (great name) is not visible from here.

Unmarked on the OS map, even Coflein have a “?” after its standing stone attribution. I like it very much, in its field of lambs and with the ubiquitous great views of the mountains. It certainly seems all of a piece with the other stones of the area, both in composition and shape. Deserving of attention anyway.

Then I’m back at Four Stones, in my Dad’s countryside. Last time, I was hit with a wave of emotion I hadn’t foreseen, but this time I’m prepared and enjoy the site for itself more. It would have been his birthday in two days’ time though, so it seems more than fitting to be here and raise a metaphorical toast.

It is a wonderful site. The proximity of the house, road and telegraph wires perhaps just enough to keep it from the front rank of circles for the modern visitor, but otherwise the setting, and the stones themselves, are exquisite, the cupmarks on the south-western stone a little bit of icing on the cake. A site to be savoured. Time passes as it often does.

Like Gladman before me, my previous trip to the summits of Radnor mountains had neglected the shapely, but sub-2,000ft Whimble. In truth, my previous trip in thick, dank mist had been something of a nightmare of zero-visibility and soaking wet feet. I’m hoping for a contrast today, so I’m relieved that as the bus drops me in New Radnor, the skies are blue if rather hazy.

The lack of car precludes me from following Gladman’s advice and so I have to start off with the steep “road-bashing” of his warning, taking a minor road north out of the town. In truth, the firm surface provides a nice easy way to gain some rapid height. I pass a couple of walkers on the road, as they stop to remove outer layers – despite the single-figure temperature, it’s soon warm once you get going on the uphill. At the gate where the road stops, I pause to do the same and shed my coat.

The long months since I discovered that I had torn my hamstring badly on Moel Eilio last year have been seriously frustrating, even climbing a couple of flights of stairs had been a strain. As such, I feel immensely relieved to have made the first couple of hundred metres of ascent without problem. From the gate, a bridleway continues the climb, more gently now, around the western edge of the forestry that clothes the southern slopes of the Whimble.

Sheep and Spring lambs are the only company and pretty soon a fine view has opened up along the steep-sided valley of Summergill Brook to the southwest. Rank after rank of hills line up to the horizon, fading gently into blue on this hazy day. I realise that the views won’t be extensive in a haze more reminiscent of a summer’s outing, but to be out in the sunshine on these hills provides more than ample pleasure.

The bridleway is easy walking and after a while a flat-topped expanse appears to the northwest – this is Great Rhos, the highest part of the mountains and a top that I had to navigate across by relying on compass and contour alone. No such trouble today, it’s nice to finally see what I missed before. Directly ahead of me is Great Creigiau, the southern part of Black Mixen, underpinned by steep cliffs falling away into the valley below. It’s quiet enough to hear the tumbling water down in that narrow channel. This is what I’ve been missing these last months, away from the solitude of the lonely hillside.

Then, through the thinning trees to my right, as if conjured from nowhere by powerful magic, the conical shape of the Whimble appears. The path continues northwest, but a smaller, much-used trail heads off to the foot of the hill. I’m suddenly overawed by the steepness of the climb ahead, although it’s less than 100m of vertical ascent from where I am now. I briefly weigh up how my leg feels against the steep hillside, but this is what I’ve come for and the urge to go on far outweighs any concern now. I take the climb steadily, one foot in front (above) the other. When the summit approach comes, a deep sense of joy comes too. I’ve made it! It’s not the biggest hill in the world, but after a winter wondering if I’d get up in the mountains again, the feeling of relief is overwhelming.

Also overwhelming is the view from the top, even with the haze. The hill drops away steeply on all sides. Away to the southeast is Hergest Ridge and on a clearer day the Black Mountains would be visible to the south. To the west and north the higher, flat-topped summits of the range cut off the longer view, but the intervening valleys are far below and steep-sided, providing plenty of visual interest. To the northeast, Bache Hill is the focal point, topped irresistibly with a line of prominent round barrows that I will hopefully visit later.

And then there’s the summit barrow, a fine, turfed-over specimen with a flat top. About half a metre below the top, the sides of the barrow are stepped-in. Coflein states this to be a later cairn placed on top of the round barrow, although it doesn’t say how much later. But for all the world, this wonderful, conical proto-Silbury seems topped with its own mini-Silbury barrow.

To all those people who cause endless debate by climbing Silbury, why bother? Come here, to quiet of the Radnor Mountains and climb a proper sacred hill instead. Sky gods, earth goddess, if such beings exist, then this is the place to commune with them. No man-made vanity project striving and failing to reach up to the heavens, this beautiful, shapely hill is the real thing, the focal point of Radnor’s sleeping goddess. It has the power to remind me how small I am, a tiny speck of dust in the infinity of nature, yet so alive and ecstatic too. I live for places like this, days like this, when mundane cares are so far below and there’s only the sky, the wind, the hills.

***

I stay as long as my body temperature allows, for it’s cold up here in March, even in the sunshine. My route onwards is to the east, where the hill is at its most gentle, sloping down a wide grass strip to the bwlch below. Here I meet two riders, the last people I will see in the hills today, apart from distant stick figures on Black Mixen. A bridleway heads northwards. Neatly bisecting the twin summits of Bache Hill, the path crosses the saddle between the two. To the northeast is the main summit, where I went in the mist last time I was up here, together with the low remains of an intervening barrow. But I have unfinished business with the south-western summit, above Whinyard Rocks, to get better acquainted with the two prominent barrows here.

A narrow sheep track winds in the general direction, so I take that to avoid the worst of the heather that clothes this hillside. The Whimble comes into view straight ahead, a reminder of the shapeliness of its curves. But the track doesn’t head to the barrows and I’m forced to take to the heather after all. A summer visit would be tough and my dodgy leg doesn’t enjoy the motion of stepping over the vegetation very much. But the barrows are worth it, especially the fine south-western example (Winyard Rocks I), placed perfectly for views of the Whimble and of the other Bache Hill barrows to the northeast. The other barrow (Whinyard Rocks II) is smaller, or more reduced, but placed so that nearly all of the barrows in the group are visible from it.

Back across the tiresome heather to the saddle. The next barrow (Bache Hill III) is visible in the grassy field beyond, it appears to have been much-reduced by erosion (ploughing?) and has no cover of heather to keep it warm. Of all the barrows in the group it is the least impressive, but still boasts a wonderful location. The Bache Hill summit barrows are not visible from it, but the Whimble and the Whinyard Rocks barrows all are. [Incidentally, this is the only barrow of the five on Bache Hill that is not on access land, although a stile gives easy entrance into the field from the bridleway to the southwest.]

The final walk to the summit of Bache Hill is easy from here, and I’m elated to be back on top of a mountain after such a long absence. Previous fieldnotes extol the virtues of the summit barrow, so I’ll just add that this is one of the finest round barrows I’ve visited in Mid-Wales – if not the finest. Good spot for lunch too, with back against the trig point and Radnorshire spread out in patchwork below.

After a quick revisit of the final barrow, at the eastern end of the arcing group, I bid farewell and start the long descent off the hills via Stanlo Tump. The last time I was here, I was pleased and surprised to see Titterstone Clee away to the northeast. Today the haze prevents any such revelations, but in the interim G/F and I have walked close by along Offa’s Dyke, so now I have the pleasure of recognising Castle Ring, Beggar’s Bush, the approximate position of the Cwmade Barrow and the wonderful Burfa Bank hillfort. Another bit of jigsaw slots into place.

Taken from the Coate Water Country Park FB page:

“Coate boasts a host of Bronze Age, Romano-British and Medieval history that spans a period of up to about 3000 years. The oldest known ancient monuments at Coate are the Neolithic Stone Circle and the Bronze age burial mound along Day House Lane. However, no less than six Stone Circles have been recorded in the Coate area linked up, in part, by avenues of large Sarsen stones. The remains of one of the stone circles probably still lies at the bottom of the lake at Coate Water whilst other ancient finds are dotted around the area that include evidence of Medieval settlements.”

Saturday dawns dry but very foggy. We finished our last walk in thick mist that enveloped the cliffs of Creigiau Eglwyseg and completely hid Castell Dinas Bran from view. Sadly, it looks like we will be picking up where we left off in almost identical conditions.

The top of the hill is invisible ahead, which may be something of a blessing; as others have mentioned, it’s a steep walk up here from the town, especially the last climb up to the fort itself. As a place to assault, I think I’d be favouring the “starve ‘em out” option, rather than the direct approach.

Due to the restricted visibility, we come upon the medieval ruins before really seeing anything much in the way of prehistoric ramparts. It’s an atmospheric spot, enshrouded in thick mist, where chunks of masonry loom out of the murk and just as quickly fade away again. We are missing out on the spectacular views though.

There are earthworks to be “seen”, especially at the northeast of the hilltop, outside the medieval ruins. There is also a daunting rock-cut ditch, but this probably belongs to the castle, rather than the fort. Even for Iron Age builders of great fortifications, I think that would have been a challenge too far, perhaps.

For all the atmosphere conjured by the mist, the lack of views makes the visit rather less than it could be. One to come back to on a clear day, with blue skies and a warm summer breeze. We make our way off the hilltop utilising the path heading northeast, and once off the top of the hill, fort, castle and all are immediately swallowed back into the pervasive gloom.

I wouldn’t normally put up some pics of a possible round house but this one is in such good nick and only three hundred metres from the site of two stone circles and has previously gone un-noticed /recorded .

This was the final site stop of the day, well the last stop was Parkhead, and what a wonderful stone. Situated on the south east outskirts of Kirriemuir. Leave the B957 taking the last minor road north before Kirriemuir, West Hill Road.

There is a handy car park and path which leads straight to the stone which stands at 2.7 meters tall with fantastic all round views.

With that it was time for Glasgow and the best place on earth.

Visited 12/02/2013.