Latest Fieldnotes

From Cefn y Gader stride confidently across the heather covered moor, in a south south east direction, hopfully following the border between Denbighshire and Wrexhamshire . Just make for the top of the gentle hill and once at the top you’ll spot the cairn on the other side.
This is the cairn that can be seen from Google earth, even the scooped out interior is visible from way up there. This is also the only decent cairn on the hillsides, all the others are grassy heather covered mounds but this one is still stoney and large. No sign of a cist, but in places around the cairn are slight hints of kerbing. Why they didnt build it on top of the hill I dont know, much wider views would be had if they had, instead its kind of hidden away looking into the hills. The nearby Cefn y Cist can be seen on the skyline to the south south east.

Park on the road through the moutains, next to the boudary stone near Cefn-y-Gader.
There is no path so youll have to wander at will, following your intuition. Mine led me straight to the cairn that cannot be named (Coflein wont help me)
From there Cefn y Cist is visible on the horizon between two slightly higher hilltops, a ten minute walk through old lead mines and the jobs a goodun.
Heather has done its utmost to hide this barrow from the searcher and the thinker, but its height gives it away when looked at on the sky line.
It is as tall as they say and there is a big hollow inside, but to an inquisitve booted toe no sign of a cist could be detected.
Pink or purple, this heather is everywhere, in winter one can go snow blind but today i’m heather blind, black grouse abound (theyre not as vocal as red grouse), and it speaks of the mountains less than wild nature.

Despite its large size I could not find this cairn, nor its two near nieghbours, another cairn and an enclosure of some sort.
It didnt help when the river that the map says its next to was all dried up making me wonder if I was in the right place at all.
My only defence is the heather and bracken that covers everything, and hides it from even the most ardent of cairn hunters.

Not a big cairn, and its covered in pretty pink heather, so its hard to see, but its in a fairly dramatic site with good views to the west and north.
And not too far from the road, it’s not really one to rush out to see, but if your going to try and find all the cairns on the Esclusham mountains youll have to come here.

Dry Hill? Although I have to confess I don’t have the annual rainfall figures for Surrey to hand – one of my many faults, I’m afraid – it would appear to be somewhat over-optimistic to assign such a name to relatively high ground (hey, any ground, in fact) in England. Unless the title is a reference to an abstinence from alcohol by locals, or a very ironic ‘in joke’ by a droll bureaucrat approving the construction of the reservoir which occupies the north-western corner? No, I didn’t think so either.

There is more to this hilltop than an unusual name, however. Assuming you’ve got a thing for large, tri-vallate Iron Age hillforts, that is. The caveat, needless to say, is that this ancient home, fortress, status symbol, is now engulfed by the almost obligatory tree cover. In addition, just the one bank survives to the approx north out of the three, thanks to agriculture. But that still leaves a overwhelming amount in situ, even after some two millennia. For me, the most impressive section of the defences covers the arc to the north-west/west, the three banks and ditches nice and upstanding here, give or take a covering of fern or two. Or three. As mentioned, the northern circuit is somewhat reduced, numerically speaking, although the surviving inner bank remains pretty substantial. The remainder of the enclosure retains its three lines of defence to varying degrees, ensuring Dry Hill will no doubt satisfy the interested travelling antiquarian. Particularly those of the ‘modern’ variety, I’d have thought? OK, the interior of the enclosure does feature a reservoir, not to mention an OS trig point to mark the 550 ft summit, but so what? The vibe is great. And it doesn’t rain, either.

I approached the site from the south, via the ‘Vanguard Way’. To be honest an OS map would be of benefit to find the relevant starting point since, heading west upon a very minor road from Cowden, I found myself having to check-off the various farm names as I went along in order to locate the ‘V’ junction where it is possible to park a couple of cars upon the grass... within said ‘V’. Head north up the surfaced farm track – personally I wouldn’t drive – passing Woodlands Farm on your right. Then veer left, beyond Beeches Farm, to ascend the hill. The rest is up to you... As for myself, I’m off for a drink. Or two. Hey, make that three, come to think of it.

Like its companion Iron Age enclosure at Holmbury, some three miles to the approx west, Anstiebury is a promontory fort, the landscape falling sharply away to the south rendering additional artifical defences all but superfluous at that point. That, however, may well be the sole similarity..... Anstiebury is thickly cloaked with woodland to the point of ‘Howard Hughes’ style reclusiveness, just the occasional local to be seen exercising his/her dog within its environs, whilst Holmbury is the focus of a multitude of weekend walkers and so-called ‘mountain-bikers’ racing along tracks between its ramparts. Poor Holmbury. In fact there is no public access to Anstiebury, as implied in jimit’s post [by the way, thanks to jimit for the prompt to visit this wonderful site]. However I am emboldened (amongst other things... ahem) by a beautiful smile from a rather attractive local emerging – with pooch – from what Dyer suggests is the enclosure’s original entrance to the approx north-east... that is on to Anstie Lane. Another encounter – with a very polite and friendly youth, restraining a not so friendly, not to mention barking (ha!) Alsatian – would suggest unofficial visits by courteous TMA-ers (is there any other kind?) are tolerated? But don’t hold me to that since, hey, it could have just been the devastating Gladman charm. C’mon, give me a break. It is at least possible. Isn’t it?

Heading anti-clockwise it is immediately apparent that the ‘Howard Hughes’ analogy is perhaps not that far off the mark; the ancient fortress, although severely overgrown, remains substantial and sophisticated within its woodland hideout .... tri-vallate except, as previously noted, to the south, where only the fore-runners of Hardrada’s beserkers would’ve attempted an assault. Yeah, I (foolishly) tested the slope myself... you would have to be a nut. The most pronounced section of the defences is currently at the approx north-west, where the banks are more or less shorn of vegetation, if not tree cover. This happy state of affairs allows the intermittent sunlight to stream through the canopy directly onto the leaf strewn ramparts. The variation of colour upon this ‘canvas’ envokes thoughts/feelings I only wish I was capable of relating with words. I therefore switch to film... sorry, digital image. Perhaps these suggest something, perhaps a hint of some repressed folk memory of life in the ancient, virgin forest which apparently once covered this planet? Legends of Herne, The Green Man and the like. Jeez, I can see where they came from, and that’s a fact.

Dyer reckons that excavation suggests Anstiebury may have been assaulted and destroyed before it was even completed, judging by the discovery of much slingshot and a destroyed inner rampart face. If this is true, the contrast between the catastrophic violence and hatred of that day and today’s peaceful, ethereal vibe is total.

Visited 05/08/2011

Although clearly marked on the O.S. map as Ratfyn Barrow, I had initial difficulty locating this barrow. After searching around the area I realised it was tucked away in the garden of a 1930’s house. You can just glimpse the top of the barrow over a fence as you reach the crest of the hill between London road and the top of Lords Walk. The pictures here were taken from the garden gate and as I couldn’t see anyone at home, I didn’t bother to ask permission for a closer look. The side of the barrow facing the house seemed well manicured but the back facing the fence did look a little wild with plenty of Verbascum thapsus (Great or Common Mullein) sprouting out of the mound. An interesting garden feature.

Occupying a promontory a little to the south of Westerham and the 17th Century manor house of Squerryes Court, this hillfort truly was a bugger to see. And then some. But the ubiquitous ‘they’ say that nothing of any worth comes easily, do they not? Incidentally Chartwell, another fine dwelling and home to Winston Churchill for many years, lies about a mile to the approx south-east. I mention this since one of the great man’s many witticisms was apparently ‘Keep Buggering On’ – or ‘KBO’, if you prefer acronyms. Somewhat crude for a great statesman, perhaps, but highly appropriate for any Modern Antiquarian with designs on checking out the ramparts of Squerryes Park in any detail..... for, surely, this hillfort presents the biggest challenge of any Iron Age site I’ve yet visited. Ingleborough? Pah! Nowhere near, my friends.

Like the great Wallbury in deepest Essex, a thick mantle of trees ensure that the whereabouts of Squerryes Park remains incognito to all but the determined with OS map. I suggest heading south from the A25 at Wetherham upon the minor road just west of the aforementioned Squerryes Court, parking a little before the junction with the B269. Take the track approx opposite ‘Mearings’ and head roughly north-east until the route begins to descend to a house. Veer north (to your left) here and make you way uphill through the trees as best you can. The promontory fort is more or less triangular and orientated north/south, with a footpath bisecting it on this axis. From what I could determine the defences are univallate... except to the south where they are re-enforced by an additional bank protecting the easiest approach. There would also appear to be a cross-rampart – whether ancient or not, I couldn’t confirm.... but would say ‘yes’ on appearances – isolating a relatively small area to the south. An earlier enclosure, perhaps, later expanded to the north. Or a later addition delimiting an ‘inner bailey’, so to speak? Dunno.

Ok, but why is a visit here so taxing, so arduous? The infamous rhododendron is the answer to that question, combining with the woodland to construct an almost impenetrable screen across the ramparts. Only upon the south-eastern arc are the Iron Age earthworks accessible without literally forcing a passage through undergrowth. Yeah, this isn’t the Amazon forest. Although it does begin to rain a little. But it might as well be. A machete would be of great benefit, to be honest. Not quite sure how you’d explain possession of such an implement to the police, though. Several times the will begins to falter. However.... ‘KBO’. Yeah, the legacy of WS Churchill must be upheld. It is, even though it takes me some five hours to be satisfied I’ve completed this latest labour of love.

Squerryes Park is not the finest hillfort you will ever visit. No, not by a long chalk. But, as George Michael once sang, ‘it’s the ones that resist that we’d most like to kiss, wouldn’t you say?’ Nature has fully reclaimed this promontory, hill fort ‘n all. And it appears that She doesn’t want to be disturbed without a very good reason. I would strongly suggest you earn the right.

Covering the site for next year was well in hand on Thursday, with the building in the far corner already fully blanketed in black plastic. So I had a bit of a race against time. Actually as far as making sense of the site is concerned it is much easier to make out the structures, especially the walls, with the plastic sheet laid on the floors ! After photographing all you would need to to do is ‘photoshop’ the black for a less obtrusive contrast in colour. Today another big deep hearth stood out. Very close to it are two large slabs on edge making a likely corner. The hearth seems a little close to be connected or respecting it (though it could mirror the hearth’s far left corner). One side is a thick rectangular slab and the other is thinner and has one angled end. On the other hand the latter also looks to line up with an edge of a thick tall-ish ortostat. Both have narrow horizontal slabs by them at ground level (that at the orthostat resembling part of a standing stone socket) and another in the space between them. From the orthostat another much lower orthostat runs to the wall of a structure, and by its RH side a small paved area [?entrance] ends at another wall. In the photograph I can see a slighly angled orthostat built into the ? far wall of the structure. Of course even looking from other directions perspective might be misleading me. But a diagram to help you see would fall foul of ORCA’s no image policy. There are at least two fallen rectangular stone near all of this, one of which might well have formed a wall with the rectangular and another abutting the angle of the corner to its left. I had a look at the drain exposed below the paved circular passage near the viewing platform. It is not much wider than a small soil pipe and bounded by a mostly thin coursed wall, though there is one stone on its long edge I can see. All over the site there are the tops of walls and fallen slabs, the latter as likely isolated as not. Unlike the north end (I can even make out the N/S baulk in one image) the view from the west end spoil heap is really a mish-mash at this stage in the cover-up. Along the south end the tapes were gone. So I finally had a chance fror a peak from this direction, treading carefully like the seasoned digger I had been. I am particularly struck by a horizontal lang stane, virtually by itself, closely parallel to what was/is the E/W baulk about half-way along the east ‘arm’. What is visible is mid-brown, five to six feet long and about the thickness of a brick wall course. The long edge facing me seemed to have a square cut running along the top but I see it is simply that this is a roughly flat edge [??natural]. From here I can see that my corner is less so – there is a gap before the angled slab, which is thin, and the other two stones are the true corner. But all of it is on the same ‘grid’, with at least another three walls on the same alignment [NW/SE if the baulks do run cardinally] between the walls/structure directly ahint the corner and the site’s east end by the north end of the platform. Nick Card has noticed where I am and calls me out as this part of the site is still sacrosanct. I try to see the lang stane from the viewing platform ramp but cannot, though a digger near to it is working close to it and in front of her may be another one [?? or the same], for I can see a big long block with a horizontal split hard against the baulk. Leaving I take a gander at the finds ‘trays’ outside being packed. I see that large potsherd with deep ribs and two of the smooth stone balls, one an oblate spheroid and the other an almost complete ovoid with a linear crack running around it (and a piece from elsewhere detached on it, sandy coloured inside).

Found about 8 years ago , attypical in that it has not only cup marks but dumb bells and ellipses .
Mid way between or en route to/ from ?
themodernantiquarian.com/site/7616/garrow.html and
themodernantiquarian.com/site/7962/remony_burn.html
.

This marked rock was found about 3 years ago , the radial is 45 cm long .The central pic is the rock as it was pre-clearance .

Wallbury? To be honest I don’t know where to begin trying to describe a visit to this frankly overwhelming Iron Age behemoth... an audience made all the more awe inspiring since the mighty bi-vallate ramparts are entirely hidden from the casual glance of passers-by within thick woodland. Not to mention being ‘out of bounds’ to the general public, ‘courtesy’ of the site’s occupation by a private estate, Wallbury Dells. In short, the sheer scale of what is to be found here, in this sleepy corner of Essex, leaves me gobsmacked... and that’s a fact. Yeah, Essex. Who’d have thought we’d possess an Iron Age enclosure to challenge the nation’s best? Oh, sorry. Forgot. We, the people of Essex, don’t even have access to surely the finest example of our ancient heritage .....

For better or worse, I’m no militant activist and have an aversion to blatantly disregarding ‘Private’ signs, such as to be found at the entrance to the modern driveway at Wallbury. Guess it’s how I was brought up. I therefore park near Lock Cottage and make my way northwards along the public towpath beside the River Stort, the water – and accompanying marsh – greatly enhancing the natural defences to the west of the hillfort. Approaching a footbridge a path heads uphill to the right (eastwards), glimpses of rampart materialising through foliage, also to my right. I knock at the door of the adjacent house and receive no answer...damn! Deciding it’d be rude not to have a quick look whilst I’m here, I promptly freak out at the sheer size of the aforementioned bi-vallate ramparts on view. The outer defence is powerful enough, the inner bank towering in excess of 4m, the outer face rising nearly vertical from the ditch bottom.... still, after some two millennia.

Intrigued, I follow the circumference clock-wise, the defences much more heavily overgrown here, passing what Dyer believes to be the original entrance before reaching the modern driveway. I retrace my steps and return to riverside to see if I can find a way through the marsh and vegetation. With the assistance of a fallen tree, I can... just... although the steepness of ascent emphasises what folly an assault from this direction would have represented back ‘then’. The western arc of the enclosure thus has no need of the impressive artifical defences found elsewhere. Nature already had that sussed, me-thinks, subject to a little scarping here and there, no doubt.

So, just the southern arc to have a look at, then. This can currently be accessed from the minor road (Dell Lane) with little difficulty and consists of a continuation of the powerful bi-vallate defences encountered earlier, albeit much overgrown. Sunlight filters through the canopy throwing shadows across the inner ditch, these subsequently convoluted in contact with the soaring, earthern banks of this ancient fortress. The effect is dynamic, hypnotic even, the action of light creating an ethereal parallel world which, for me, provides a most fitting analogy for Wallbury. I step back out into the sunlight and Wallbury is seemingly gone, as if hidden once again behind the mists of time.

In my opinion it deserves to be celebrated, treasured.... not kept locked away from the public gaze like some impressionist masterpiece in the private collection of a disturbed billionnaire. But then perhaps that’s just me?

Heading west through West Wycombe along the A40... doubling as the town’s High Street.... look for Chorley Road (if you fancy an ‘authentic’ climb to the site) or West Wycombe Hill Road (if you prefer to drive to the top) on your right. I choose the former (not because I’m athletic – I’m not any more – but since I haven’t done my research...), parking in the large, free car park beside a garden centre. West Wycombe Hill rises across the road to the north-east, a very steep ascent being required to reach the ramparts of the Iron Age enclosure which still crowns the summit. A large, circular and – to be honest – rather ridiculous mausoleum overlies the site at this point, relegating any appreciation of what once stood here to the realms of guesswork.

Unfortunately there’s more... the eponymous parasitical church which, together with attendant graveyard, occupies the interior of the enclosure. Thankfully, however – unlike a similar arrangement at my local hillfort of Danbury, Essex – the majority of prehistoric defences still remain upon West Wycombe Hill, albeit in an overgrown state, shamefully strewn with trash deposited by its namesake. Yeah, sadly I feel an air of malevolence here, an uneasiness exacerbated by the sound of hymns seeping from the church. These suddenly cease and I am soon confronted by a dodgy looking woman, glancing down at the camera and tripod held in my hand with obvious distaste. Looking up and consequently catching my eye she – wisely, I think, since I’m in no mood for this – decides to remain mute and move on without comment. I’m glad since I have no wish to add to the burden of the bereaved – if indeed she was – within churchyards... but I will defend myself against all dogma if forced to do so by the ignorant.

The canopy of foliage provides a shield (actual and metaphoric) from such incidents. It also cloaks some rather excellent bi-vallate ramparts protecting the western and – in particular – northern arc of the hill fort... much more powerful than I had anticipated and rising to some 3.5m to the north-east, according to Dyer. I sit upon the inner rampart drinking my coffee, amongst the twisted roots of trees clinging to life with an uncanny determination, and I am glad significant physical reminders of our pre-christian heritage remain upon West Wycombe Hill.

We stumbled over various large stones with possible cup marks in the meadow and found a couple of the same built into garden walls.

flickr.com/photos/66391623@N03/sets/72157627435147864/

See what you think

Visited 21.8.11

My second and last site of the day.
This site proved to be the most difficult to access that I have experienced in quite a long time.

I headed west along some very minor roads from where I had parked when visiting the near by Pen-Twyn Camp (Crucorney). This leads up hill to the north of the Hillfort (through trees). There is a space to pull over opposite an old rusty field gate. You can actually see the Hillfort from the gate – up above the tree line.

Up and over the gate, across a field full of sheep and over a barbed wire fence on the opposite side – so far so good. Then the ‘fun’ began!
I then came to what appeared to be some sort of overgrown ‘orchard’ – although I have no idea what the red berries hanging from the trees are? When I say overgrown – I mean overgrown: bushes, brambles, ferns and (I kid you not) head height nettles!
It took quite a while to carefully make my way through the trees/nettles and eventually came out the other side. I was then confronted by my next ‘challenge’ – head height ferns! Although not as bad as head height nettles they were still tricky to walk through, particularly whilst going uphill. This really was hard going.
I then came out onto a path running north to south through the ferns which didn’t show on my O/S map. It could have all been so much easier!
It was then a case of the last leg up to the hilltop summit which was so steep I had to go on all fours to get to the top.

Finally, I reached the top, knackered and out of breath. Just as I was thinking ‘I must be mad’ I looked up and saw the view. In an instant it all became worthwhile – simply stunning.
The single rock cut ditch/rampart of the Hillfort was easy to spot, being about 2 metres high. The whole of the site was covered in ferns and the dreaded gorse.

All I had to do now is make my way back to the car………oh joy!

Despite the access problems I had, if you were able to come via the ‘path’ through the ferns it shouldn’t be too bad. It is worth the effort for the views alone although the Hillfort defences were pretty impressive.

Best to follow TSC’s directions for an easier life!

One part of this stone was found several years ago when part of a field wall was removed, since then the other three parts have turned up along the wall and have recently been reconstructed in the gap formed by a gateway.

There is very good access, up a farm lane to the west of the site, then follow a barely noticeable carved cup and ring sign placed in a gateway (unfortunately placed in the wrong side if you are driving up the lane, but ok if you have come down the hill as part of the walking trail), straight across the field to the gateway in the far wall opposite.

There is a stake placed right in front of it, but it is only sitting in a base and can easily be taken out for photos and then replaced.

It is probably best to seek permission from the farmer when visiting this stone – we had an unfortunate encounter with him after inadvertantly blocking the field entrance when parking. He did say that he doesn’t mind people going up to it, providing the field is empty of livestock. Best to check in the future.

We visited this long barrow on 21 August 2011: I can see now why some of the other posts here indicate some disappointment, but despite the fact that the mound had obviously been hacked about a bit, we thought it was rather a lovely place, and its thick coat of grasses and flowers (harebells, scabius, knapweed, little bindweed) was a pleasure in itself. The views are excellent, and it is on the same ridge, more or less, as the Cold Aston long barrow, which we visited as well – they seem somehow to be siblings.

Visited 21.8.11

When visiting a site there are often two ways to approach it – the hard way or the easy way. Needless to say that this is yet another example where I picked the hard way!

I approached from the minor road to the south west, only to find the road east (near the pub) signposted ‘unsuitable for vehicles. This required a longer walk to the Hillfort than I had planned. Much to Karen’s credit she said she didn’t mind waiting in the car with the children whilst I traipsed across country – what a woman!

It was a lovely summer’s day and although it took 25 minutes to reach the Hillfort it was a pleasant walk in the warm sunshine.
By the time I reached the Hillfort it was clear that if I had approached from the south east I could have driven literally right to the site! (There is a small place to park next to the yellow grit boxes – beyond the entrance to Lower Pentwyn Farm).

You then pass through a wooden gate and an information board which tells you all about Hatterall Hill although there is no specific mention of the Hillfort. The board also states that you are now entering common land – so access is not a problem.

Although the whole site is covered with ferns the ditch and rampart of the Hillfort was easy enough to see.
The path through the wooden gate actually runs alongside the western defences and here the rampart is about 3 metres high – elsewhere it is between 2/3 metres.

There are wonderful views to be had and it was lovely standing there in silence, amongst the foxgloves, with only a couple of birds of prey hovering overhead for company.
This is indeed a great hobby of ours – and other than petrol – free!

Well worth a visit when in this pretty part of the world.

No reason to doubt the Canmore suggestion , but you never know .

canmore.rcahms.gov.uk/en/site/22571/details/dail+nan+ceann/

Following the path next to Moel Faban that passes the arrow stone, settlement and burnt mound, pass the huge glacial feature that separates Moel Faban and Moel Lefn on the left. The path skirts around the eastern base of Lefn. Looking to the right there is a narrow path or sheep track leading to a small upright stone with a quartz lump sat on top of it.
Walk towards the sheepfold keeping the mine on the other side of the valley in line with it.

An early bronze age settlement that is really difficult to figure out when you are there amongst the stones. But it is worth coming because the view down the valley is wonderful.

I wandered around trying to work out what was what and found circular features, rectangular features and higglety piggelty features. Then I sat and lost myself in the view.

Lynch says that these are “one of the most characteristic and accessible of Griffith’s Class II settlements’- groups of very small huts set within irregular, non-terraced fields. Such settlements are believed to be early Bronze age in date”

There are 6 small poorly built huts most on the line of the field walls.
The fields are of irregular, rounded shape and variable size.
It maybe that the stones were never structural walls but a stone skin piled up against a wooden wall.

Visited 3rd August 2011

This is probably the most comfortable dolmen in the world! Soft sand to sit on, a glorious view of the Baltic in front of me, and a chamber just my length to recline in. Nice and easy to find, we followed Julian’s directions in TME, parked up at the busy carpark at Havang, and headed for the beach!

The sun is hot today, but with a cooling breeze from the azure sea, we have just had a picnic by the dolmen, within the sheltering enclosure of the surrounding stones. The beach front setting of the monument is idyllic, and although there are plenty of folk around it is not crowded. People come and go at the stones but do little to disturb the feelings of peace.

Havangsdosen was discovered after a heavy autumn storm in south eastern Skane in 1843 blew away sand covering this 5,000 year old grave. The monument consists of a small dolmen, with a large capstone supported by three uprights forming a burial chamber, but seems very different from the British or Irish dolmens that I’ve seen, in that it is surrounded by a rectangular setting of sixteen stones.

The name of the site ‘Havängsdösen’ means “The Dolmen on the Sea’s Meadow” and it is aptly named, being on the edge of the sand only metres from the sea. In Skǻne, the southernmost county of Sweden, it seems common for Neolithic graves to be sited along the coast and larger rivers.

The entrance to the burial chamber itself looks out east across the Baltic, and is aligned in such a way as to be oriented with the sunrise on the Vernal and Autumnal equinoxes, the sun rising from the seahorizon illuminating the chamber for twenty minutes during these equinoctial sunrises.

I’ve spent some time relaxing in the comfortable enclosure of the chamber and gazing out over the clear blue sea can only imagine the magical qualities of seeing the sun rise up directly in front of you, bathing the chamber in light, it gives you a sense of the reasons why the ancients built these monuments how and where they did.

This was one of the sites in Sweden I was most looking forward to visiting and it doesn’t disappoint!

Our last site of the day was to be Holme Head; one I knew could be difficult to access due to the railway line being in the way! What I can’t even begin to explain is this; how have Vicky and I, who have spent the last 25 years whizzing up and down this line to each other’s houses, managed to miss these huge, hunk of stone, sitting right by the side of the line? We must have both passed it hundreds of times!! Anyhoo, we tried to get a decent picture of it from the “wrong side of the tracks” and then we attempted to get to it through the filed on the other side – this would be quite easy if a) there wasn’t barbed wire on the gate and b) it hadn’t been full of cows who seemed very curious. This is not usually an issue for me but I had a train to catch and didn’t really have the time to dodge playful bullocks and barbed wire. This is now firmly on my list for “next time”.

This really whetted our appetite for more, so we set off to the next site – the standing stone at Sewborwans. There is a handy wee layby right by the fence into the field, so we pulled in and hopped over the gate. As we approached this lovely, big stone – again, sturdy & squat just like the other 2 we had seen today, and sitting on a raised piece of land – we noticed 2 smaller stones in the hedgerow. These weren’t the scattered, fallen stones Fitz had mentioned but were still upright. Our minds went into overload at this point, with Vicky convinced that they were just missing the recumbent stone lying between them and me wondering if they had been some kind of entrance stones? One of the things I love most about prehistory is that, a lot of the time, we just don’t know the answers so you are able to make things up, argue with yourself, talk yourself out of said theory and then change your mind again and decide you were right all along! This stone reminded me of the Googleby Stone at Shap but that may have been the setting and the fact that it was standing in bright sunlight, with a dazzling blue sky – the exact same conditions when I first saw the Googleby Stone? The strewn large stones in the bank behind are interesting and Vicky decided that this had once been a magnificent circle of stone, standing on the plateau, linked to the henges at Eamont by large processional stones; it certainly has some credibility, with the references to stone avenues in the area. It is also of note that there are 3 cairns within spitting distance of this site at Mossthorns and this site would be visible from there. We had a quick peek at these from the roadside but didn’t attempt to get to them, as our heads were already overflowing with stones and the fields were rather inaccessible. Another time.

Heading back towards Penrith, we soon found ourselves pulling into a weird little industrial site just off the A66. We followed Fitz’s instructions, and right enough, there was our 2nd upright stone of the day! What a strange situation and how lucky that the stone survived the industrial units being built all around it. Similar in size and shape to the one at Winderwath and no longer sitting amongst some bushes, this has the air of abandonment about it – only nettles and thistles were in the way today. As we were poking around, the local farmer came over and stared chatting; he said there had been a 2nd stone close by that had been cleared some time ago and mentioned that the original roadway had run from Eamont Bridge (where Mayburgh & Arthur’s henges are) following the watercourse and came out here. This started lots of ideas whizzing round our heads, wondering if this roadway had followed an ancient route, marked by these lovely big monoliths??? Vicky and I love theorising about such things and often convince ourselves of stuff that we have no evidence of – and here we were again – we got out the map and starting trying to find an obvious route, linking various sites in the area. Oh, what fun we can have with a little knowledge and such fertile imaginations!