Latest Fieldnotes

Situated at the northern foot of Nowen Hill, in an area now cleared of forestry. In the Archaeological Inventory of County Cork Vol 1 West Cork (1992), the stone couldn’t be found, due to “heavy Afforestation”
An immpresive stone,at least 8 foot tall, which has commanding views of the area. Barrboy is to the North, Nowen Hill to the South, and to the West, you look down the Mealagh Valley with Bantry Bay way in the distance.
For access. The stone is clearly visible from the road. There’s a forestry track leading North. Go over the barrier then head straight for it, picking your way through the clearfell area. It’s wet and slippery in places, but easily negotiated. the stone is on a raised area, with a stream running to the West.

A stone Pair to the north of the Owngar River. The larger stone lays prostrate. A Hawthorn tree has grown up between the two stones and is starting to engulf the upright stone.
The heights of the two stones are 2.7and 1.9 metres respectively.
Access is through a gate, which is just down a farm track opposite the Farmhouse.

in a field just North of the infant bandon River. ” metres high and orientated NE-SW. A fulacht Fia sits in the same field just metres away.

This neat little wedge tomb is situated in a clearing in the mealagh Valley, on the Sheeps Head way. Access is really easy. there is a small parking area on the minor road to the South of the Maughanaclea Hills. A clearly marked path leads down through the trees then splits, follow the path through the pine trees, cross the metal bridge and then about 100 metres the other side of the mealagh River, and you will find it set in a small clearing.
The tomb is open towards the SW and the single capstone seems to mimic the shape of Mullaghmesha to the South. there are remains of the mound to the Northern and Western sides.

English Heritage has this very obscure ‘fort logged as ‘the remains of a probable Iron Age univallate ridge-end hillfort, partly destroyed by quarrying’ (English Heritage, National Monuments Record TL 31 SE 20). Guess I’d more or less agree with that... with the additional caveat that the site lies within woodland and barbed-wire. Consequently I found it by no means as easy to locate as it first appeared from the map. Assuming I did in fact locate it. But there you are. Perhaps it was a case of me making the evidence on the ground fit the preconception, of ‘seeing’ what I wanted to see? Perhaps.

Whatever does remain of the enclosure occupies a fine defensive position, protected by steep slopes falling away to the River Ash to the east, the river executing a wide loop at this point, and by a lesser, although still significant, drop to the south and west toward the artificially manipulated River Lee. The only feasible direction of attack – as you may have gathered, from the north – was defended by a curving bank and ditch. This still exists (I think, but happy to be corrected if you know better and my images are spurious!!) although it is now very denuded, overcome by woodland, riddled with rabbit warrens, littered with accumulated rubbish, bottles discarded by feral teenagers and winos. In short, it is in no way impressive. Hey, but at least it still exists. I think.

By contrast the naturally defended flank overlooking the River Ash is a joy to behold, lying beneath its canopy of trees... worth the diversion from the B1004 in itself, to be honest. Better still, combine a visit here with a sojourn at the impressive, nearby Easneye Wood round barrow and you’ll have little cause for complaint (however bear in mind there is no official access to either monument, although public footpaths will get you close). Parking was a bit of an issue, so I left the car just outside of Ware at the Hollywood Road junction with the B1004 and walked the short distance back. There are worse things to do on a Sunday afternoon....

You know how it is... the lethargy, the call of the ‘roll over in bed’ too great to harbour any intention of going anywhere this morning? Tell me about it... so it’s with some irony that I find myself heading up the M25 shortly after bound for.... Ware. An apparently rather fine bowl barrow within Easneye Wood, to the east of said town, is the objective. Yeah, about an hour’s drive to visit a mound of earth, with no guarantee of an audience... there must be easier ‘hobbies’, surely? No, I think not.

The first pleasant surprise is the quality of the Hertfordshire countryside as I park up opposite Watersplace Farm on the B1004. I guess the clear blue sky, the catalyst for the visit, helps... but nevertheless... nice. The track, heading approx south east through the farm before crossing the River Ash, is wide and well maintained. Entering Easneye Wood it begins to climb, flanked on the right by a very deep drainage ditch. I head off uphill where this terminates, following a wire-mesh enclosure... one assumes there for the (poor) grouse... until a quite splendid bowl barrow emerges through the trees. Now there is some dispute as to the dating of this monument. EH is pretty confident it’s Bronze Age in origin, no doubt in no small measure thanks to the cremation deposits mentioned in Rhiannon’s post [refer English Heritage, National Monuments Record 638576].... deposits incidentally replaced within the mound following excavation. Hertfordshire HER, however, reckons it ‘looks’ Roman..... what chance of analysing the cremation using modern methods for a definitive answer. Can a ‘contaminated’ sample of organic material be of use? Dunno. Whatever, I must admit the round barrow certainly looks ‘authentic’ enough to me.

The monument’s setting, beside a dirt track with piles of logs here and there, is disorder itself, yet curiously aesthetically pleasing to these eyes .... a working wood, albeit one apparently worked for a purpose many of us, myself included, will no doubt find abhorrent. But such is the countryside. More disturbingly, a ‘christian college’ lies below to the south-west, a place where adults still – even in the 21st Century – succumb to religious dogma unsupported by any evidence whatsoever. Not a problem if they were content to leave the rest of us alone and not invoke the political power trip.... but of course such people can not. But there you are. Many others will clearly disagree, as is their right. Just stay the hell away from me and allow me to believe my own senses.

The northern half of this substantial barrow is overgrown with brambles; however these are absent from the southern, affording a very fine perch from which to take in the vibe of the ancient forest.... the remnants of trees which once crowned the mound are still in evidence, one destroyed by Nature, the other by man. A couple of others ‘hang in there’, thriving upon the fertile soil. There are also the remains of a magpie, a pile of distinctive feathers all that is visible from the kill of a fox.... or perhaps bird of prey. Periodic sunlight streams through the bare winter canopy – or rather lack of it – and only the sound of headbanging woodpeckers, the odd shotgun, microlight, squirrel... etc... OK, it’s not the quietest spot ... breaks the silence. No christian missionaries, however. Thank, er, goodness. Although, in retrospect, an encounter may well have proved ‘interesting’. Or maybe not.

Time runs out and I return to the car, noticing ‘Private – No Path’ signs I (honestly) missed on the way up. Hey ho... note that these are private woods, then. Whatever. But what a great bowl barrow this is.

Tried to visit this hillfort today while out walking around the Coates area. Have to report defeat on this one though note thesweetcheat managed it. We were heading for the ‘source’ of the Thames which seems significantly very close to the hillfort. Entering by a gate through woodland (no ‘private’ notices though it felt private) we came up against a deep walled ditch – so turned back. The OS map shows Trewsbury House inside the hillfort:
britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/en-129296-trewsbury-house-coates/osmap

Quite unusual and made us less inclined to press on – could also hear what sounded like a flock of geese ...

We found the ‘source’ of the Thames marked by a large granite stone – now a dry spring.

This substantial stone stands 2/3 fields, (around 300 metres) to the South West of Gurteen Circle.
I couldn’t for the life of me see an easy way down that didn’t involve lots of gorse and plenty of water. So I had to content myself with a couple of shots from the field up above.
Looking on the National Monument website – it gives the following – 3.8m tall 1.1m wide 1m depth
There must be an easy way. After all, the cows got in there !

The Kington bus deposits me near to Credenhill church. As this is an unprompted and unplanned visit, I don’t have a map (the horror), so I rely on the brown tourist sign pointing up a minor road (also signposted “Tillington”). I do at least have Children and Nash’s “Prehistoric Sites of Herefordshire” in my bag, so I have got a plan of the fort itself.

Reaching the parking area, there are a number of signboards about, including one with a picture of a rather stylised Iron Age warrior (nice blanket). Of more interest, given my maplessness, are the two trails shown on the plan. There’s a lower trail (red squares) and a higher “ramparts” trail (yellow triangles). Which proves to be invaluable and means that you can easily find your way around without a map.

The hilltop is managed by the Woodland Trust and they have allowed access to the whole site. There are quite a lot of cars parked up, so it looks like a popular spot.

The path climbs up through the trees, easy walking and not particularly steep. At length I come to a gate (yellow triangle painted on it) and the path curves round to the left. What appear to be earthworks, heavily tree-covered come into view on my left and then an enormous entrance looms. The forestry track cuts straight through and so do I. I don’t realise that I’ve missed a crucial yellow triangle, painted on a tree-trunk above the path to the right, just before it went through the rampart, so I’m actually walking onto the fort interior now. Signs warn me of forestry operations and eventually I emerge at the edge of trees onto a very large open space. Various forestry apparatus is about, but no people, so I carry on.

I’m now standing in the centre of the fort. The clearance extends for at least half of the site and a very big site it is too. The largest hillfort in Herefordshire by some distance, and bigger than Dorset’s Maiden Castle too. The views open out, the Black Mountains looking almost near enough to touch to the south, the Malverns more distant to the east. I cross the open and silent interior, heading for the far treeline. Here the vast rampart reveals itself, a tremendous earthen bank stretching away to my left and right around the northern end of the fort. Beyond there is a deep ditch, rather overgrown, and then the natural slope of the hill. I head westwards along the rampart, now back on the yellow triangles. At the northwestern corner I come across the “red squares” trail – it’s apparent that this gives a good view of the rampart from its outside.

I climb back up onto the inner trail and head south. The eastern rampart and ditch are strongly built and still rather awe-inspiring despite the covering vegetation. I think though that I’ve been rather spoiled by the earlier visit to Wapley Hill, as I’m not quite as blown away by this fort as I might otherwise have been.

The path re-enters the trees and once more I think of Gladman. I think you’d like it here Mr G. Unfortunately my camera battery is now almost dead, the sheer volume of earthworks seen today have been too much for it! I head around the southern rampart, back towards the entrance at the southeast corner where I first missed the yellow marker. Seen from above, the entrance is even more impressive, with massive inturned banks to daunt the visitor (friend or foe). I now carry on around the eastern side. The ditch is partly silted up here, a muddy plunge pool in one place. But the size of the earthwork is enough to make me stop and wonder, as I did at Wapley, the manpower that such an undertaking would have required.

Further along to the east is a second original entrance, again with inturned banks flanking it powerfully. I wonder why the two entrances are so close together? If, as has been speculated, this was a regional capital rather than a purely defensive site there must be some significance, but I have no idea what. Tradesmen’s entrance?

Back out of the trees, the light is now low and long shadows are cast. Sadly my camera gives up the ghost at this point. This turns out to be not all bad, as I spend a quiet time just sitting on the bank at the northeastern corner of the fort. It’s so quiet, the silence broken only when a woodpecker hammers away in the woods.

Eventually I head on, back along the northern rampart but this time head off the rampart onto the “red squares” trail. This gives a different perspective on the rampart from the outside, reinforcing its power. What a statement this place must have made.

Immediately beyond the house, the trees stop and here’s the rampart and the entrance. Wow! I was expecting the fort to be in the trees but it’s not (other than parts of the outermost ramparts that the forest seems keen to reclaim into its darkness). The entrance is very impressive, banks turning inwards to funnel the visitor into a perfect trap, if so wished. The route takes a sharp turn to the left and then comes out into the fort itself. To my right the bank heads away enticingly, but I want to investigate the multivallate defences in the southwest corner first and so I head down off the inner rampart into the first ditch on that side. Inside the ditch, there is rather more vegetation, self-seeded trees and shrubs and plenty of brambles. I think a summer visit might be more of a challenge.

The inner bank is very well-preserved and towers above my head to a height of about 5 metres I would think. At which point I startle a small deer very close by, which disappears off towards the tree line. I can’t help grinning now, as it’s apparent that this is an absolutely magnificent fort. And it just gets better.

Beyond the inner ditch is another rampart, lower but still very impressive. The ditch outside that is much more overgrown and I don’t investigate further although I know there are another two lines of defences beyond that. Instead I head back into the inner ditch and follow it along to the southwestern corner of the fort. The manpower that must have been needed to make these enormous earthworks, using available tools, beggars belief. I suspect that if you put the entire population living within five miles of this site in 2012 (including Presteigne’s residents) onto it, it would be an undertaking of years.

At the southwestern corner, the ground slopes steeply away to the west. Fleetingly through the trees the unmistakable cone of The Whimble appears. What a vista this place would have if the trees all went! Turning northeast (the fort is triangular in plan), the steep slopes provide the fort with a natural defence that doesn’t require the same augmentation as I’ve seen so far. The nearby valley of Hindwell Brook, on its way to its imminent confluence with the River Lugg, is 200 metres lower than the fort. Forestry works are underway on the northern slopes, although not actively today.

I follow the northern rampart round, until the most awesome part of the fort becomes visible. The northeastern rampart is as strong as that on the south side. A gap allows passage alongside the top end of the rampart, where another rampart lies beyond, then another. In total, there are five separate lines of defence here, making this one of the most strongly built forts I have ever seen. As impressive as Maiden Castle, but without any fanfare, I would say this little known fort is up in the front rank of Iron Age earthworks.

Outside the two innermost ramparts, the earthworks are more overgrown and once again a summer visit might well be a bit more of a challenge. The “entrance” at the southeast corner is apparently a modern incision into the banks. There is a signboard there, next to a kissing gate that gives access to the fort. Personally I would recommend not coming to the fort this way, as you see the ramparts straight away, whereas the approach through the southern entrance allows the wonders of the site to unfold bit by bit.

I have to applaud the Forestry Commission (and English Heritage, with whom they have a partnership relationship for this place). The fact that the majority of the fort is now cleared and has been made open-access land is a brilliant thing and it deserves to be much better known.

Standing on the northeastern rampart, the outstanding views just keep on coming. Rolling hills of Mid-Wales over to the northwest, then NNE you can see The Long Mynd and another of the Marches’ premier hillforts, Caer Caradoc near Church Stretton, with The Lawley beyond. Looking northeast, the unmistakable scarp profile of Titterstone Clee draws the eye. Then round to the east, where Herefordshire rolls away in a landscape of pathwork fields and wooded hills, one of which I think is Credenhill Camp. I suspect if the trees were cleared the ridge of Croft Ambrey would also be visible. And round to the south and the Forest of Dean, then the Black Mountains edge and over once more to the Central Beacons. Wow.

Walking back along the southern rampart affords a good view of the interior, where ridge and furrow marks show past cultivation and pillow mounds evidence medieval use of the site. Towards the western end, passing the entrance once more, there is a fenced-off well, capped with a concrete lid. This is “ritual shaft” that was uncovered during excavation of the site in the middle of the 20th century. Not much to see now, but an intriguing bonus.

At length I decide to head off, as I realise now that the bus times would allow me to fit in a visit to Credenhill Camp on the way home. I walk back to Titley along the Herefordshire Way footpath, itself a pleasant stroll on a lovely sunny day. I don’t often “recommend” TMAers to visit particular sites, but Wapley Hill has deeply impressed me and it deserves your attention. Visit.

A small stone 1.5 metres tall, situated in pasture just to the West of a stream. It’s aligned E-W.
A gate gives good access.

A sad little Stone Row, enclosed within a fence along with dumped concrete pipes.
Take the small lane which turns off by Kilcaskan Church and the row is in a field on the right, on the property of a newly built, but empty house. The landowner gave us permission to jump over the locked gate to go down and have a look.
All three stones are quite small and similar in size and shape. The tallest being 1.05m and the smallest 0.85m.

A fine standing stone 2 metres tall. Possibly one of a stone pair. There is a fallen stone just yards away.

Terrific Stone Pair, situated in wet muddy field adjacent to a minor road and just a short distance SE of Cappaleigh North standing Stone.
From Cappaleigh North head East to a crossroads then turn right and park in tightly by the Holy Well on the left. The stones are just yards down to the right.
Again, there are breathtaking views of Bantry Bay and Hungry Mountain.
Set nearly 9 metres apart on a NE-SW alignment. The largest stone is 2.1m x 1.1m x 0.6m and the second stone is 0.95m x 1.05m x 0.32m (measurements from National Monument Survey site).

Small stone situated in a field in the lanes just West of Adrigole. A fieldgate gives easy access.
The stone is just under a metre high and is aligned ENE-WSW.
There are fine views over Bantry Bay and towards Hungry Hill.

Impressive stone over 2 metres high. Easily seen from the main R572 at Gour Bridge about 4 miles West of Castletownbearhaven.
A layby on the opposite side of the road (just past the stone) and a nearby gate gives easy access.

A small three stone alignment, with a fourth stone at right angles with the middle stone.
The row is aligned NNE-SSW and all of the stones are low to the ground and in long grass, making it hard to spot from the road.
There is a gate nearby for access

Have to agree with Cian below, about the offerings, some really weird stuff !
If you’re visiting here, make sure to carry on down the road a little to Kilcatherine Church. There’s a great carved head above the South Door and an underground chamber in the Eastern part of the graveyard.

Visited: February 24, 2012.

After leaving Backhill of Drachlaw it was a given to cross the field to the north to view Carn Riv, the Carlin Stone. My only excuse for posting is that I’ve added a nice sunny image of the stone for you to enjoy.

Things certainly weren’t as nice as they look. I could barely keep the camera steady as a gale-force wind swept over the field.

Visited: February 24, 2012.

After visiting Corrydown Stone Circle, I decided to make the most of the sunshine by heading for Backhill of Drachlaw.

Parking off the road opposite the Carlin Stone, I found that access from the road near the farm was rendered tricky by a double barbed wire fence. I managed to hop over this, but an easier approach would be via the gate at Cairn Riv then follow the field boundary round (as I did on the return).

Backhill of Drachlaw is like no other Stone Circle I’ve seen, composed as it is of several unusually ‘pebbly’ stones. But a great place to visit.

Visited: February 24, 2012.

The Mains of Hatton stone circle has in the past tended to be hard to spot. It lies near the crest of a hill and cannot normally be seen from the road. Last year I recall spending a considerable time following tractor tracks through waist high crops trying to find it.

This should be a problem no more. A giant Wind Turbine (which wasn’t there last summer) has now sprung up on the south side of the road, on Cushnie Farm, thoughtfully(?) positioned exactly opposite the Circle. Indeed, standing under the turbine, it was just possible to see the tops of the fenceposts surrounding the circle.

The circle itself is a poor remnant that has been much disturbed, but the recumbent and pillars still raise a defiant profile in the February sunshine.

Visited: February 24, 2012

I had tried to visit this Stone Circle remnant last year but ended up completely baffled by the ‘missing path’ reported by other observers. But, as I found out later, the path is still there.

Anyway, turning left from the B992 at the Cushnie sign, just before Auchterless (heading north), I visited the Mains of Hatton Circle before turning right at the following crossroads, past Pitglassie, to park at the end of the metalled road leading to Uppermill Farm. I walked to Uppermill, crossed the field to the right, and then the stream. This is a ‘trenched’ stream, and the far bank is in many places a daunting vertical obstacle. However, after searching a while, I found a place where it proved possible to step over the stream.

Now I started to contour, anticlockwise, around the hill—and within a few paces, there was the ‘missing’ path. Everything was easy now: just follow this path round the hill to the ruined Corrydown farmhouse, and the field gate appeared immediately adjacent.

All that remained was to follow the field margin for about 200 metres, and there were the recumbent and fallen pillars of Corrydown Stone Circle. Eveything is enclosed by a fence, and a number of the other circle stones, partly buried, can still be seen.

This is the best time to see remnant circles such as Corrydown. From early summer onwards their fallen stones become buried in a tangle of weeds and grasses and can be hard to view. In late winter, the previous years growth has collapsed and they are seen much more to advantage.

Finally, for the return to Uppermill, I steadfastly followed the path till I arrived at a rusted gate, with the Uppermill Burn ahead. Close inspection
revealed that the path actually continued across the burn, which was culverted for several metres. This covered section was somewhat disguised by a growth of saplings on top of it, but this was no obstacle to progress. There now followed a walk over a grassy stretch behind the farm buildings on the south side of the approach road, two gates to cross, and I was back at the start of my walk.

The mystery of the disappearing path is this: the path shown heading south from Upperhill (on the OS map) is now closed off by a gate (see photo), and what used to be the first 100 metres of the path has been grassed over (perhaps deliberately, to discourage walkers?). Just pass through the gate and follow the field edge on your left, along the grass behind the buildings, till you reach the stream. The clump of saplings indicates where you can cross. Step over the old rusted gate ahead, and you are on the path, which takes you almost all the way to the circle

Visited 1st May 2011

A lovely sunny spring day on our way down to Portsmouth and the ferry to Brittany. I’d looked for the Thor stone before on previous trips down to the Rollrights, but was always confused by the maze of lanes.

Now with the sat-nav taking the strain we pull up in the tiny village of Tatston. Managing to park near the old stone cross on the green without blocking the roads, (a feat in itself) we have a wander over to examine the stone.

The stone is a good size, and reminds me of the oolithic limestone that makes up the Rollrights, but less holey. It seems indignant to the proximity of the nearby wall, like it’s trying to peer over into the garden. The village is quiet today, it seems to have a bit of a ‘Midsommer Murders’ vibe to it, and no cars come by to interrupt my photographing of the menhir. It’s nice to see that the Thor Stone seems to have weathered the centuries better than the stone cross set up to ward off its evil influence!

Giving the stone a Beltane hug we leave to continue our journey, if you’re in the area the Thor stone, Hawk stone and Hoar stone can all be easily visited being quite close to each other, and I’m glad we finally managed to explore this corner of megalithic Oxfordshire.

Situated in a field opposite Rosscarbery Strawberries. Totally surrounded by electric fencing. Presumably to protect it from Cattle. A rectangular block 1.5 metres high. 0.5m wide and 0.5m depth (measurements – National Monument Service website).

Garreg Las, a long ridge of shattered rock thrusting northwards from the otherwise predominately grassy uplands of Y Mynydd Du (The Black Mountain), sits in sulky isolation a little south-west of its higher – not to mention far more popular – peers. To be honest it’s not really a ‘peak’ as such, the 2,076ft summit ‘merely’ the highest point of a chaotic, broken table of limestone overlooking Cwm Sawdde Fechan to the east. There are no dramatic mountain lakes here to inspire legend – as just ‘up the road’ – no soaring cliff lines to entice more than the occasional walker.... just an uncompromisingly brutal landscape combining with utter silence to generate a feeling as near as dammit to complete isolation as you’ll probably experience in all the Welsh mountains.

Yeah, that is ‘the Garreg Las experience’ today, the ideal spot to practice whatever amateur philosophy takes your fancy with minimal risk of some group of route marching muppets spoiling the ambience. However there is evidence that this high ridge was not always so marginalised within human society.... two great big stony piles of it, no less! For it was here that the Bronze Age peoples of the area erected two massive cairns which, although much mutilated internally – as you would probably expect – still overwhelm the senses of receptive upland travellers with their dramatic profiles.

It is truly hard to come to terms with the fact that people used to actively select such uncompromising locations as this to lay their important dead to rest.... but there’s no getting away from it, an example upon Fan Foel to the east having been excavated before suffering the same fate as these two beauties, revealing a stone cist bearing grave goods. So, far from being at ‘the back end of nowhere’, as it is – gloriously so – today, Garreg Las clearly occupied a prominent position in the Bronze Age psyche. My, times have changed. Tell me about it.

The twin cairns which still stand here – the Carnau’r Garreg Las – do not quite measure up (in terms of physical stature) to those found upon the extreme western flanks of Y Mynydd Du; however they are still very substantial indeed, their haunting profile, suddenly materialising upon the final approach from the north-west, enough to cause me to involuntarily chuck my trekking poles half way across the mountain... or at least it seemed that far going to collect them again. The southern is arguably the more substantial of the pair, although both are soon placed very much in perspective (as are The Mam C and I) by a violently changeable sky dispensing hail and sunbursts in quick succession. To view towering cloud formations hovering overhead (like the alien mother ships of... er... more fertile imaginations) when perched upon an ancient Bronze Age cairn is to be completely overwhelmed by the immensity of existence. Or something like that... steady on, old chap. The look on the Mam C’s face tells me she feels the same. No need for words.

Approaching Garreg Las from the neighbouring summits of Y Mynydd Du requires suitably substantial walks, it has to be said. However an expedition of somewhat lesser magnitude can be enjoyed by leaving the A4069 at Pont Newydd to the north-west. Take the minor road heading south-east and park at the crossroads leading to Ty-brych farm to the right, a rough track continuing straight ahead. Follow the (tarmac) road downhill, past the farm, and it becomes a muddy bridleway descending to, then crossing, a cascading water course (the Nant Ffynnon-wen, I think). The track continues, climbing now, to the south-east to begin to ascend the open hillside. Carn y Gigfran, another Bronze Age cairn, crowns the left hand extremity of the ridge rising above and beyond. You can do worse that head for the col to the right of Carreg Yr Ogof, the great Garreg Las cairns lying unseen over the rocky crest further along to the right. The ascent, over grass until the final shattered, rocky pavement is attained, is a bit of a drag. But worth the effort? As Harry Hill says... there’s only one way to find out...