Latest Fieldnotes

North of Criccieth on the B4411 is the little village of Rhoslan, blink and you’ll miss it, at the southern end of the village there is a small lane with a bridle path sign leading east. Park here. The burial chamber is ahead through a gate on the left side of the field. (following this path leads to Ystumcegid dolmen eventually, but I don’t recommend that route)

Like nearby Caer Dyni I haven’t been here for over a decade, my memory of it is one of slight disappointment, perhaps due to seeing all the better examples first, or maybe it was the way one side is too open, as if a couple of uprights had been taken away.
But my new memories of it are those of best site of the day, nay, star of the day. We got to quite a few sites today, one was just a pile of stones, one was just a stone, didn’t find another, and another was basically just a lean to, they all had something great about them but right here right now Cefn Isaf is just what the doctor ordered.

A great big, it has to be said, axe like capstone held neatly aloft on strong thick legs, the stream running by very closely, swallows skimming for flies, a dog walking couple go by and the sun streams down upon me. Next to the stream up and down from the chamber are a number of large stones one a big round boulder another is a large flat stone, I wondered if the stream had always been there. Eric had elected to stay and wait in the car, but I was at such peace sitting comfortably in the chamber looking out at the bucolic scene, like a tranced out football coach in his dugout, that when he appeared round the corner and into the chamber I was fair startled, jumped and almost bumped my head, bloody kids, always sneaking about the place. We sat silently for a while, him between my feet, sharing the view, then he stated his need for a number two and can we go now.
Yes, yes we can.

Probably the most easily visited site on the whole peninsula, however, from the lay by, I couldn’t see it, but I knew from a previous visit, so long ago that Eric had not yet been born, that it was by a bush no more than a hundred yards away. It may be easy to find and easy to get to, only a fence or gate to climb or just jump over the wall at the lay by.
Even without the map and untold years of fool proof memory it was still easy to find, and find it I did.
Quel suprise, the bush has gone, I wonder who did that, enterprising avid stone watcher ?, surely not, farmer ? doubtful, my money is on local archaeology group, who ever, good one.

That said it’s not an impressive or inspiring site, who knows what it would have looked like when it was more together. The capstone leans against just one of the few stones under it, a huge notch has gone from the stone, giving it a pacman sort of look. The thing I saw as most interesting, is the weird red/grey concrete or stone that is right under the capstone joining it to the ground, is it concrete to fasten the stone in place ? or is it iron rich rock ? or what, anyway it looked weird and out of place.

Visited 9th August 2012

Having a bit more time on Orkney this trip I thought I’d track down some of the less visited stones on the island, and first on the list was the menhir at the aptly named Staney Hill. Taking the minor road off the A965 just before the Maes Howe visitor centre at Tormiston Mill(a right turn if coming from Kirkwall as we were), the road runs right up behind Maes Howe. Not having access to Wideford’s fieldnotes, we carried on up this road passing the Grimeston junction, whilst I kept my eyes peeled for the Stone o’Hindatuin, which soon could be seen in the field to the right. Ellen pulled into a nearby passing place, as there seemed nowhere else to leave the car. The next difficulty then seemed to be the lack of any visible fieldgates. As I’ve often said I don’t feel I’ve had a proper visit to a place unless I can actually touch the stone, I don’t know why it just makes me feel more ‘connected’ with the place, so refusing to be put off by something as trivial as a barbed wire fence, and with no noticeable livestock in the field, I hopped the wire, barely managing to keep the seat of my trousers intact.

Ellen stayed in the car, both in case of having to move it if we had a sudden rush of traffic, and also, having better sense, deciding she’d quite like to keep her clothes intact. Once into the rather large field, I noticed a distant group of cows now glowering at me disinterestedly, as I headed up to the stone which sits on a natural ridge. From here you get a great view, out down to the Loch of Harray, where Stenness is just visible, and the hills of Hoy, still cloud capped rising proud to the south-west. The stone is huge, it must be about 9’ tall. Some stones around the bottom of the menhir look as if they have been packed at the base to pack the stone, and a grassy covering which has covered the stones now makes for an ideal seat, where I write up my fieldnotes.

This is a fine stone, it’s so peaceful up here, even though directly opposite across the road is a house, there’s no-one else around, with only the sounds of the occasional car interrupting the call of the birds. The stone has the usual light dusting of Orcadian sea moss, and seems to gaze towards Hoy like a silent sentinel, just another of Orkney’s many fine stones. On returning to the car we had a number of strange looks from the man living in the house just up the road, who Ellen said had come out of his house three times to suspiciously stare at the car (obviously thinking we were up to no good!) Aside from the slight access difficulties (which I’m sure would be removed if you follow Wideford’s notes!) this stone is definitely worth the visit.

24/8/2012

In the grounds of an early 17th century hunting lodge now owned by the National Trust. There is public access to the barrow field though today there was a large herd of young frisky pedigree cattle also in the field. They didn’t notice us until we were making our way back (a little too frisky for my taste).
This long barrow is now protected by an electric fence – I imagine to keep cattle, rather than people, off. Easy enough to step over if you want to. The barrow looked in good condition and no signs of the past damage recently reported by Evergreen Dazed. Three of the stones from the chamber still remain (reminded me of a small wedge tomb).

Visited 11th August 2012

We’ve visited Stenness several times already on this trip to Orkney, but on our way back to Kirkwall after a trip to Hoy, the glorious sunshine was too tempting and so we called in at the stones.

The first time you approach the stones the scale of them hits you, along with their amazing tapering shapes. As the afternoon sun casts long shadows the megaliths look as if they could be an art installation or sculpture park, so forward thinking was the selection and placement of the stones. The good weather has brought other tourists out, and the interior of the circle has somewhat of a festival atmosphere as children play at the base of the stones whilst a man gently strums a mandola and couples hand in hand stroll around the circle. It feels joyous and it is.

The heavily denuded remains of the henge around the circle is still visible, and from the centre the hills of Hoy dominate the horizon as I gaze west. When once a full complement of stones stood around the circle you can only imagine the impact this place would have had in the heart of the most sacred area on Orkney. Its just a pity that eejits such as W. Mackay (a ‘ferry-louper’ if ever there was one) did such damage to the site in 1814.

Stenness though is such an iconic site, and normally one of the first places I stop when arriving on Orkney, it’s got special memories for me, and continues to call me back, and I’m sure anyone who visits will feel its call too..

Due to the passage of time directions to this burial chamber have changed slightly since rdavymed came here nine years ago.
Parking is still at Cilan Uchaf farm, but your charged two quid for the pleasure now, there is an honesty slot in the barns side door.
Heading south east from the farm through a gate with a sign encouraging fishermen to come this way, after closing the gate behind you go into the right hand far corner of the field passing an unused caravan. There is another gate to be open and closed and across the field is another gate, head for that and then your in the burial chambers field it’s in the far left corner. So that’s three gates, no more than a ten minutes walk, even if you dawdle.

Sounds easy enough, but it’s not the way I went.

Instead of the fisher friendly gate we went down the half overgrown old footpath that bends and takes us away south, not the right way. At the end of this path over a fence, cross a field, and over another fence, then I was sure it would be over the field and over the next fence and there it would be. No . Hmmm, I was sure I would be in the right place, we walked further south down to the sea looked about , wandered hither and thither , but couldn’t find it at all. Eric was trying to be helpful, suggesting it and been pushed over, or it had fallen in the sea, the latter wasn’t impossible we were close to the edge of some high cliffs, and erosion isn’t a made up word. We retraced our steps, basically I employed the tactic of going round in circles getting more and more frustrated. As a last gasp solution we sat on the cliff tops looking out to sea, I put the map away and began to resign myself to some inadequate failed notes. Suddenly a spark of genius entered my consciousnesses, I silently stood up walked over to the stile ten meters away, peered across the field and pointed “there it is”, just like John Cleese pointing out Brian as he runs off through the streets.

I couldn’t believe how hard I’d found finding this bloody great stone to be, at one point I was going to blame unusually magnetic bedrock, then the map was wrong, plainly. In the end I can only presume it really is harder to find than you at first think.
The llech is really very big, over four feet tall five feet wide and twelve? feet long. Sitting on the stone for a while we watched a RNLI lifeboat out doing maneuvers, or perhaps showing off to a girlfriend. High on the cliff tops above Porth ceiriad is a hill fort, but time wont allow a visit today. Under the stone at its southern end are a couple of stones that could have supported this end of the capstone, could be field clearance though.
rdavymed’s field notes mention it isn’t easy to find and he’s dead right, but he also says it could be the most spectacular site on the Lleyn, I’m not so sure about that though. It’s a very worthwhile place to get to, for the size of the llech and those easy on the eye sea views.

Smoo Cave. You know it’s going to have something about it, just from the name :) Though it’s supposedly one of those daft names like River Avon that means the same thing twice. Perhaps that makes it even better.

Although it should be a pretty remote spot, there were a good deal of tourists stopping here, some in massive buses having come all the way from Austria. But somehow, the site’s just about escaped being over-domesticated. There are fences to stop you falling to your doom, and some nice interpretation boards next to the car park. But the balance seems alright.

Firstly, up on the land, there’s Allt Smoo, a babbling stream that disappears suddenly into a hole in the ground in an alarming way (for fans of the mysterious karst feature, that’s the origin of part of the caves). That’s quite a strange thing to see. And then you can wander down many steps into the curiously long inlet from the sea (Geodha Smoo) and into the massive cave entrance itself to see the golden-brown peaty water emerging back out into the world. You can’t help imagining what such a huge interior space would seem like to anyone from countless centuries who’d have never otherwise been in such a place. Today we’ve been to big halls, shopping centres and so on and rather take it for granted. But this would be something quite novel. Not that you yourself are likely to have been in such a big sea cave before, it’s said to be the largest in Britain. So you’ll be impressed, but possibly in a different way.

Once inside the cave you can pad around on the earth floor looking up at the strange shapes of the rocks above you, but then you can hear the sound of the water pouring in from the stream, and you are drawn to the narrow entrance into the next part of the cave. In this smaller chamber there’s some natural light that spills down with the waterfall, and the noise from the water is very loud. It’s rather impressive and elemental. Everywhere smells mossy and earthy and damp.

The waterfall chamber is completely flooded, and you’re only there easily because of a little platform that’s been built. It would be quite something else to have had to paddle or wade through to see it in the gloom. You might have felt a little reticent.

There are even further chambers, as Carl mentions. They’re lit up with amber light in my photo. But I just can’t imagine wanting to have ventured in there with a burning torch, ducking under the low rocks. I’m a bit of a coward when it comes to dark, enclosed, water-filled underground places. I don’t think that’s too unreasonable.

If the people who lived here in prehistoric times thought Strange Things about this unusual place, I wouldn’t be surprised. They may have just thought it was cool. Which would be fair enough.

Not marked on the 50,000 map, but is marked on the 25,000 as burial chamber, a good description of Tan y Muriau 700 meters north east possibly but not here, but, fallen broken stones probably won’t fit on the map. The capstone is on the floor with about a sixth of it lying broken off to the side, any upright stones are also fallen, the whole thing is fallen.

Two rows of water filled drill holes cross the center of the capstone, I had thought they were for breaking up the stone but it might be that the locals used to put gunpowder in the holes during festivities, a kind of firework?
But even in it’s destruction what’s left is enough to see that this would have been an impressive burial chamber, on dimensions alone similar to Chun Quoit.
But yet again the siting of the stones is quite splendid, looking down across Porth Neigwl, aka Hell’s mouth and on to Abersoch, and in the other direction, south west, up hill to Mynydd Graig with it’s fort and hut circles.
Disappointing burial chamber unless you know what to expect, one for the completest.

The first time I came here I parked in a house that was in mid renovation, but is now fully being lived in, so I couldn’t park there. In stead I went down hill from the long driveway leading to Tan y Muriau, not far, only about twenty meters or so and left the car under a holly tree at the side of the road, still leaving plenty of room for other road users to get past.

But like on my first visit, there was no one in at the house to ask permission from, so we just walked over to the chambers which are about fifty yards away in the next field. There were no animals to harangue us, but a high growth of bracken and some sort of yellow flowering plant were definitely going to make us pay for this visit. Seeing as no one was in at the house we started cutting back and trampling down the almost overpowering vegetation. In the end it really opened the place out, before it was head high in places and only the tops of the capstones could be seen, but this was much better. It was early spring on my first trip here, there was no bracken and no flowering plants of any colour, I think on balance I prefer summer but hope it will indulge me with a ten minute clear up.

This is another fantastic must see gem of the lleyn peninsula, two chambers for the price of one. On the map it’s down as a simple long cairn so should be just like this one themodernantiquarian.com/site/14330/cwmbiga.html .....except that ones not on the map at all, there is so much difference between the two it’s just not funny. Long cairn indeed.
You can get in and have a good sit down in the big chamber, it’s dry and slug free, but watch your head on the upside down whale fin on the underneath of the capstone. Now i’ve had another look at the smaller chamber i’m not so convinced it has slipped off, rather it could be an earthfast chamber like at Garnwnda, I don’t know, i’m open to either.
The capstone is a big beautiful death gods hat, I mean neolithic axe, no, I mean underworld pointer. Could just be a stone, but it looks more like the Delta flyer from Voyager to me, either way it’s a good stone for a burial chamber.

To be honest I wasn’t sure what to expect here. Sure, the extended environs of Canterbury reveal a number of the seemingly ubiquitous ‘Tumuli’ marked upon the 1:50k map... many more than I deemed possible but a few months ago, prior to a visit to Bigbury, that is .... but is it not true that travel broadens the mind, raises expectations, fuels the hunger for knowledge? (Discuss in not less than 2,000 words, essays on my desk by Wednesday next week please). However I must confess that I ‘toy’ – rascal that I am – with the notion of revisiting the not too distant long barrows at Bodsham or Chilham... but that would be too easy. No, Iffin Wood it has to be, if only to see where the urns mentioned in Rhiannon’s post were placed. You know, to feel that ‘connection’? Something personal, real, relevant. Something, I have to admit, I’ve never experienced at those great, overwhelming power centres such as Avebury, Stonehenge and the like. Yeah, despite the magnificent architecture I’ve always sensed too much ‘politics’ at those places, the experience too ‘scripted’, too theatrical, too controlled.. what with their tended lawns and EH information boards. Too many half-interested people going through the motions to truly breathe deeply.

The same can not be said of the well preserved round barrow which lies within the northern section of Iffin Wood. Now I guess my admiration for the works of the Ordnance Survey is obvious; however there is no substitute for simply ‘being here’. Or there, as the case may be. Consequently I take the A28 toward Ashford from Canterbury city centre, veering left for Chartham at a prominent roundabout. Beyond a church (as I recall) a minor road, named, appropriately enough, ‘Chartham Downs Road’ heads east (left) offering some rather splendid panoramic views before the traveller must divert north to skirt the western flank of Iffin Wood. I park just beyond the entrance to Upper Horton Farm and contemplate the treasured map, the latter declaring the elusive monument to lie just south of a prominent track starting.... well, where? Yeah, of the track there is no obvious sign.

It is there, of course, more or less opposite the aforementioned entrance, but submerged within the wood and heavily overgrown. More to the point, the road is unfenced at this point rendering access easy, if blind. So, picking up the line of the track I trend to the right and soon come across a rather substantial round barrow hidden beneath the summer canopy. Not bad at all.... OK, the northern flank has been somewhat truncated by the encroaching track, but other than that I’ve seen much worse. Nature has complete control here, from the spiders’ webs which envelope my face as I negotiate my way around trees, the creators no doubt much more pissed off at my presence than I am of theirs... to the rotting stumps and branches which surmount the ancient barrow, organic structures which crumble at the slightest pressure from my boot, their demise in turn allowing the flourishing of the woodland which rises above. Yeah, everything feels so right here, you know? Everything has its place. I recline upon the natural chaos and drink my tea, senses in overdrive, straining at the proverbial leash.

A woodpecker does his – or her – headbanging thang near to hand. More worryingly – I hate guns – shotgun reports ring out every now and again also... note that there is no public footpath affording access here... hence on several occassions I tense up in anticipation of a challenge... but it would seem no one has used this track in ages. Hey, even the sunlight struggles to penetrate the scene here. The vibe is truly exquisite.

N.B – there is another ‘tumulus’ depicted upon the map further to the south. However barbed wire impedes access... and to be frank I wanted to leave with the vibe intact. Wonderful.

The disputed stone in a graveyard. Cant quite say why it would be disputed, it’s not that different than Llangwnnadl menhir just a couple of miles away, slightly more rectangular in section maybe, but of a similar height and both seem to focus upon Carn Fadryn, or at least both can see the big forted hill.

But it’s the atmosphere here that stops one in their tracks, the sun pours down upon us for the first time today, two Buzzards are flying round really close and calling loudly to each other, or perhaps to Eric and me. The mist still clings to the hill tops and glows in the morning sunshine, the church has a big heavy door with a handle that needs two hands to turn, inside is the church you always wanted, half height walls and no roof, how very pagan. A most surprising graveyard this one, I like the quiet tranquility of a grave yard, I was once into ancient Yews and saw a few old churches then as well, but to have views across North Wales and a big standing stone thrown in all that’s missing from here is an ancient yew and i’d never leave. Bucolic, that’s the word.

Just when you think you’ve seen all the best places somewhere, one pops up that you haven’t been to before, and I cant think why. But then you get there and it seems obvious, there is absolutely no where to park. I pin pointed where it was, but high hedgerows hide any views from the road. The nearest house down the road has room to spare for a quick visit but a no parking sign diligently deterred me.
I took revenge by carelessly blocking the field gate for five minutes whilst I constantly circled the stone staring up in wonder. It is a whopper, almost ten feet tall. A strange notched top has it looking like a Lundin link stone from some angles. Close by on the horizon to the east is Carn Fadryn a breast shaped hill with a good fort on it that I don’t have time to explore on this day, but in between us is a stone in a grave yard that I do have time for. Hopefully parking wont be as problematical as here and we can relax a bit.

I was alerted to this hill forts existence and whereabouts by TMA contributor Blossom, nice one. Seeing as it is near the road and halfway between two stones on the list, I had to stop and take look, be rude not to.
About five minutes north east from Aberdaron, easily spotted from the B4413. I parked up a small rough farm track that leads to some farm buildings but not the farmers house. Apart from over easily freaked young cows we had the place to ourselves. From the farm barn it is only a ten minute walk up to the top. Marked by a trig point and mapped as 146m high, the top is a wonderful place to be. The whole Lleyn peninsula can be seen from up here, excepting the highest hill tops which are still shrouded in early morning mists. The mists are almost low enough to engulf me on this hill top, they’re wafting around just above head height and lending a most ethereal light upon the whole scene.
The hill fort itself isn’t that grand or impressive, the ditches aren’t deep nor the ramparts high, but they do have a vache-de-frise. A chevaux-de-frise, is a defensive system that has usually sharp things getting in the way of cavalry, as seen at Pen y Gaer and Cademuir hill, but here they have live cows encrusting the ramparts, a bit blunt mostly, but, get through that ya b****rds.
No sign of Odo though, if you go to somewhere that’s called castle Odo and there’s no Star trekian shape shifters to be seen at all it must be against the trade descriptions act or something, some American tourists might sue.
Perhaps the trig point has obscured the mound within the fort and I could see no sign of any mounding on the outside either, as with many if not all hill forts it’s the sighting of the fort, the terrific views from them that keeps me climbing these places. Odo rests on .

Somewhat surprisingly, it was, bar one day, exactly two years since my last visit. I was looking for somewhere to camp for a night, any where at the east end of the Lleyn would have done really, but seeing as my last time here was hampered by unseasonably bad weather, and a camp site is within a few hundred yards, it seemed sensible to start the days stone hunt at the beginning, as it were, and then any other places visited would be all on the way home.

Gee whiz tents are uncomfortable, even a chimp builds a comfy nest every day, and there’s us sleeping on the floor, like a camel, and like a camel we rise reluctantly, slowly and with great moaning noises. But eventually we are up and on our way. We drive a couple hundred yards up the road to the car park and information boards. From there just head seaward between two hills Uwch Mynydd and Mynydd y Gwyddel. Bardsey island, Ynys Enlli lies out to sea looking cool and distant, it wasn’t there last time I was here if you know what I mean, and above the standing stone is the ruins of St. Mary’s chapel, still very visible as a series of rectilinear earthworks.

Once again I forget to look for the supposed sacred well amongst the rocks below but its the stone that i’ve come for and it’s the stone that keeps my attention, such an improbable stone for standing up right all gnarled and twisted not pretty, but definitely beautiful. Why is it here though, there is no good boating landing place, perhaps it marks the well, or the hut circles above to the north, either way I’m glad I’ve made it to the end of the world here twice and seen the stone that is Maen Melyn

Ah.... this’ll be one for those who like the locating of their round barrows to present a bit of a challenge. Not least upon actually arriving at the spot where the maps reckons them to be. But there you are. Another piece of the Kentish prehistoric jigsaw (eventually) falls into place.

The first problem is to actually find the A290 turn-off toward Whitstable upon passing the fine city walls of Canterbury – not to mention shattered, yet none the less substantial rectangular shell of a Norman keep. Yeah, I miss the (presumed) signpost and consequently take a while to arrive at Blean. From the village I head east, past the local Londis, to Tyler Hill – watch the road here, some pretty sharp corners with hulking, great 4x4s taking far too much room – hence left (north), passing Frog Hall (no toads in these parts, apparently) to park at the Clowes Wood car park by Gypsy Corner. Now.... the required track actually heads north-west into the aforementioned forest beside a covered reservoir, to the far right as one approaches... needless to say, however, I venture along a track signed ‘Dog Loop’. I realise my error when power lines duly bisect the track where none should be. North it is, then, before veering right near a tarmac section of the old railway to ascend to the highest point of the woods, the northern flank seemingly used as a mountain bike track. Although thankfully not today.

But where are the promised round barrows? To be honest it takes a while to decipher the landscape and suss out what is what. Sure enough there is a clearing at the highest point of the ridge, but the ground is covered in thick vegetation.... of the sharp, prickly, painful kind.... albeit with rather tasty compensation if you happen to be an aficionado of wild berries. The western – and according to the map, smaller – barrow is completely submerged beneath fern. Beyond, however, it is possible to discern the raised profile of a much more substantial monument, at least in terms of footprint. A central depression filled with charred wood is the clincher. So... not exactly the finest example of a round barrow one could wish to see and, frankly, I’m initially somewhat disappointed. But then the grasshoppers begin to resume their racket, birds twitter and distant road noise fades to the inconsequential. Yeah. I decide I like it here after all, marooned upon my prehistoric ‘island’ within a sea of bramble. Clowes Wood has vibe. Something that can not be purchased, something that is hard to come by nowadays. Priceless, you might say? Upon having a wander I reckon this would actually appear quite a significant round barrow should all the greenery be removed. But then again perhaps it is fine just as it is?

Visited 16 August 2012ce while cycle-touring in the Outer Hebrides.

Just to pick up on greywether’s comment about signposting, there is now a proper brown “tourist” sign on the B888 road in Dalabrog / Daliburgh to direct interested parties to the roundhouses, though as seems to be the norm on the islands this gives no indication of distance! After following a minor road / track almost to the modern-day burial ground of Cladh Hallan, a further footpath-style sign points the way to the roundhouses which lie a few minutes walk along a sandy track.

As for the roundhouses themselves, the southernmost has almost completely disappeared back into the dunes, but the central and northern houses are still visible as is the “smokery” just to the NE of the latter. Three interpretation boards have at some stage been set up on the rise overlooking the site from the N, but these have become detached from their supports (presumably blown off by the wind!) and now lie rather sadly, albeit neatly, on the ground.

Visited 17 October 2010 on a lovely autumn day of full sun and leaves gradually turning to gold. After leaving Long Stone I walk through Blake’s Wood to Staunton, an attractive village with a lovely church, a restored pound and decent pub.

At the western end of the village, a byway leads southwest to Hymens Meend, and the Buckstone is easily reached along this path. The stone is situated on an unexpectedly terrific viewpoint, with great views of the eastern aspect of the Black Moutains across the Welsh border, including the recognisable tops of Pen Cerrig-calch, Pen Allt-mawr, Pen y Gadair Fawr, The Sugarloaf and Ysgyryd Fawr, then south across the Usk valley to include Blorenge. I’m excited to see the top of Pen-y-Fan in the Brecon Beacons from here too.

The stone itself is a monster, a wedge-shaped lump weighing several tons, supported on a spindly base, which apparently used to allow the stone to rock, but no longer. It reminds me a little of the High & Low Bridestones on the North Yorkshire Moors.

Between the path and the stone are a number of scattered boulders, one of which has been (naturally) sculpted into a basin, the sort of thing that Gentlemen’s Magazines would have had lined up for Druidical blood sacrifices. Today it’s filled with water, which is cool to my dipped finger tips on this unseasonally warm day.

A quieter and more relaxing spot than the Long Stone, come on a clear, fine day and admire the views. Just don’t expect the stone to rock.

Visited 17 October 2010. A lovely autumn Sunday with evening plans limiting the distance I can go persuades me that it’s about time I ventured into the Forest of Dean. Despite living in Gloucestershire for four years by this point, I have never made it amongst the ancient glades of one of the county’s most famous areas. TJJ’s recent late summer pictures of the Long Stone are the clincher.

Taking note of comments about the busy nature of the road, I take the bus to nearby Christchurch, from where it’s a stroll along the quiet paths of Ellis Reddings Wood and Marian’s Enclosure towards the stone. The forest here is a lovely mix of deciduous species and widely spaced conifers, making for a pleasant atmosphere as sunlight slants through the canopy.

Approaching the edge of the woods, the Stone itself comes directly into line of sight. What a beauty! About seven feet tall, of sedimentary rock (I guess it’s sandstone) with a slight lean and lovely tapering shape. Surrounding by bracken turning orange, with the backdrop of trees, this really is a great stone. A couple of tendrils of ivy snake their way up the stone’s side, these will want watching if it’s not to disappear from view. Being Sunday, the road is not too busy (although busy enough) and it is possible to disregard it enough to admire the stone at some length. Perhaps not a place to lounge around, but nevertheless the fine stone is enough to make a visit highly worthwhile despite the road’s proximity.

After a while I head over the road and take a circuitous woodland route to Staunton, before heading on to The Buckstone.

Have a good walk round the castle and the defences can be seen, ramparts north, west and south. Nature has taken care of the eastern defences which are a severe drop into the River Fiddich. (hence the whisky) The farm near the castle is called, apt for me, Parkhead! Another fort at Conval can be seen to the west.

Park on the A941 and follow the track east. If taking a car, the track wouldn’t be advisable.

Visited 16/8/2012.

This long cairn has seen some harsh treatment throughout the years. It stands at over 46 meters in length, the middle section has been almost been flattened, field clearence has been dumped on it and several smaller cairns have been added as well. To the north it has probably been clipped by the minor road and looks, to me, that this cairn will eventually be ploughed out. Another cairn survives in a nearby wood but it will have to wait for another day.

Leave the A90 at the Temple Of Fiddes road heading north, this then heads west to a meeting place of 5 roads. The long cairn is in the field to the south of the road opposite. I parked near the road going south to Drumlithie. Another case of what once was I’m afraid.

Visited 9/8/2012.

I head back to Long Row and down to the road again. Alongside the road, I stop for a quick look at St Margaret’s (or Margret’s, as Ordnance Survey have it) Well. The well is behind a grill set into a modern stone façade, topped off with railings. Sadly, it lacks any kind of ambience or even much in the way of interest, behind the dense grill. I don’t linger, but head off for a walk around the various monuments on Calton Hill, as the dusk closes in.

From the rocks below and to the north of the summit, I hope to be able to see a line of six (yes, SIX) hut circles shown on the Ordnance Survey map along a rocky ridge above the forbidding sounding Hunter’s Bog. But the aerial view offers nothing, so I head down the steep path to the ridge to investigate further. The location is great, with good views and a flat surface. But of hut circles I can find nothing. Not even one, let alone the six that the map promises. There are some stones scattered about, protruding through the grass, but that’s about it. I spend a while walking up and down, sure that either I’m not in the right place or that sooner or later I’ll find something, but still nothing. Failed notes it is for this one. [I’m slightly relieved when I get home to find that the RCAHMS 1998 visit was similarly unable to find any hut circles here. Perhaps we’re all looking in the wrong place?]

Holyrood Park stretches out before me, a relative wilderness at the heart of such a cosmopolitan city. I’m immediately glad to be wearing boots, for the paths are muddy and slippery. No gentle urban promenade then. I take a path marked “Dry Dam” on the Ordnance Survey map, skirting the southwestern end of St Margaret’s Loch and passing below the fragmentary remains of St Anthony’s Chapel, perched on a rocky shelf above the water. The whole of the park appears covered in archaeological remains of one sort or another.

Dry Dam becomes Long Row, a gently sloping climb up the valley between Whinny Hill and the higher Arthur’s Seat. Tiny figures surround the trig point on the summit, a popular walk even on this grey October evening. Whinny Hill, over to my left, looks the perfect spot for a hillfort, being encircled by a series of natural terraces, but the hill is actually bare of any remains. After a while, the view to the east reveals Dunsapie, where a kidney-shaped loch provides a natural moat on the north and west sides of the flat-topped hillfort. One for another day though.

My path continues to climb, before a fork offers a choice of the lower Crow Hill straight ahead or the steeper route to the main summit to my right. I take the latter, eager to get up to the top while the best of the light remains. It’s not the best of visibility either way, a misty grey cloud hanging low and blotting out anything much further away than the centre of the city, the Pentland Hills are little more than a blue smudge.

The climb steepens, providing a view down onto the flat plateau above the Salisbury Crags cliff tops. At the top, the path turns to bare rock and becomes a near-scramble. Being a volcanic hill, the rock is hard and glassy, making it very slippery in the slight damp of the evening. The summit is marked with a graffiti’d trig pillar showing, rather enterprisingly, a sword in a stone. There are also quite a few people (mainly tourists like me) who’ve made the walk up. Calton Hill looks a long way below and even the rocky promontory of Edinburgh Castle is dwarfed by this hill, despite its relatively modest height. There is an excellent view of neighbouring Crow Hill, but from this side no traces of the hillfort remain that I can see.

So I head off over there for a closer look. The summit of Crow Hill is lower and much flatter than that of Arthur’s Seat, more suited to enclosing for settlement or defensive purposes. However, there are no obvious remains that I could see on the hill, the possible exception being on the eastern slopes. Here, some bands of rock suggest the possible remains of a rampart, but these could equally be natural. Below these, a series of cultivation terraces cut across the hill as it slopes towards Dunsapie. I walk around the hilltop for a while, still finding nothing obvious, before heading back towards the path below Arthur’s Seat.

Canmore says that this stone is well known in the area. So when I asked some people about it I was surprised to learn that nobody had heard of it. To be fair I was given directions to The Cloch (RSC) and to a cairn at Shiels (I’d been there earlier). Probably the fact that this stone is within the grounds of Lathallan School and behind a wall probably explains it loneliness.

Eventually I asked at the lodge to the school and was given directions. Enter Johnshaven from the A92 and stop at the first crossroads. To the north is the entrance to Lathallan School. Thru the gates and head south on the edge of the playing field to the bottom south west corner. In amongst the nettles is the well shaped but pebble dashed stone standing at an angle. It would have stood at 1.2 meters at it’s full height.

After taking a few pics I left the stone alone. I wonder how long it will be till it’s next visitor. It might be a long time.

Visited 9/8/2012.

This must have been a massive cairn at some point and has wonderful views out to the North Sea and of the coast line. The grass covered cairn stands at over 21 meters wide and is over 3 meters in height. Cairn material pokes thru but any trace of a kerb has long since gone.

From the Tower Of Johnston walk directly south as I did. This includes a couple of climbs, jumping over fences (barbed and electric), burns and a nice stroll thru some boggy bits. If going by road leave the A92 between St Cyrus and Johnshaven heading north. Take the minor road south west at the first crossroads. Look north and the cairn is clearly visible on the ridge to the north after the South Bradieston track.

Visited 9/8/2012.