Latest Fieldnotes

I visited the sacred omphalos of Uisneach in 2007...considering the fame of the place as the navel of Ireland...the plaque announcing it’s presence in the area was typically discreet. At the side of the main road was a footpath and gate with huge ‘Beware of the Bulls’ ‘Do not enter’ and ‘No Trespass’ signs...but me being me...I just had to take a trip up the field to at least find the Catstone...so shoot me!
The Hill of Uisneach, I have to admit was a little confusing...as there was never a sense of actually cresting the hill...try as we did to get to the top before anyone spotting us! As we took photos near the Catstone..I spotted the landowner in a field down yonder, making his way to his jeep, keeping a keen eye on his quarry...us!! We just made it out of the field as he reached us on the road...with our best innocent looks on our faces.
I can safely say that to ensure a nice relaxed trip up here...one should try harder than I did to identify the landowner and beg for his permission to tread this site...the locals I asked just said ‘Sure you’ll be fine...work away’...I would be interested to find out if anyone has visited there since, and what their experience was!?!

Following a ferocious – not to mention utterly wondrous – pounding by unfeasibly powerful winds upon Tap O’ Noth, I’m in need of somewhere a bit more, er, relaxed and sheltered for the remainder of the day. Must be getting old, I guess. Unfortunately I’ve not the time... OK, nor energy either... to undertake a Drewbhoy-style trek across the hills which rise to the north-west of Aboyne. That’s what happens when you run out of Irn-Bru, see. I therefore settle for ‘just’ The Blue Cairn instead. Well, I do appreciate a decent long cairn, me.

En-route, the overwhelming richness of Aberdeenshire’s ancient heritage is – to be frank – overwhelmingly apparent, the Culsh souterrain and Tomnaverie RSC just two highlights on offer (luckily I’ve seen the latter, but Culsh will need to wait, since these things can not be rushed). Look for a very minor – just about surfaced – road heading west from the B9094 about mid-way between Aboyne and Tomnaverie, that is almost opposite the track to Coull Home Farm. I follow the former to its terminus and then veer sharply left, taking an unmade track to Muir Cottage (the cottage is adorned with numerous car number plates). The occupier readily agrees to a request to park and gives me directions to the cairn I’ve come to see – basically head for a prominent tree just before the forestry line, cross the fence and follow to the right. Hey, even I couldn’t miss it. Which is saying something.

Approaching from the east, the sheer length of this long cairn isn’t at first apparent. However cross (another) fence and, suffice to say, it soon is. Canmore (A S Henshall 1963) has the following to say:

‘Blue Cairn is a long horned cairn, aligned ESE – WNW, composed of large boulders and generally undisturbed, with no structural features exposed. It measures 175ft in length (the horns project another 10ft at the east end) and is 60ft wide across the horns. It varies in height from 6ft at the east end to 2ft at the west end. About 40ft back from the facade a distinct, regular hollow about 3ft deep, probably an original feature, crosses the cairn.‘

Although the above is no doubt a far more succinct physical summary than I could ever hope to give – although the ‘generally undisturbed’ comment may need some revision? – it doesn’t begin to relate the incredibly peaceful atmosphere prevalent at this monument this early evening. Drewbhoy is spot on. So is the vibe. So is the weather, the sun throwing shadows to enhance form, the site sheltered from the severe winds by woodland. A lateral barbed wire fence bisects the cairn at one point, but this is of little consequence, easily stepped over.

I sit upon the Blue Cairn until 7.30pm, a build up of cloud in the previously – and appropriately enough – blue sky suggesting a change in the weather.

It’s been said before but I think it can bear it one more time...... Gawd this is a pretty place.

Not many mountains in North Wales attract as much megalithic attention as Cadair Idris, this stone is the best sited, the best looking and possibly the biggest in the area. It’s as tall as I am, that is a bit shy of six feet, as we approached from the east it had a pronounced thumb shape to it, the lower half has been sheep rubbed smoothly black.
From here we can see the field across the valley where Cerrig arthur stone circle is sited.

On route to this cairn we noticed there was loads of birds all around the road, it was all I could do to not hit any of them, when suddenly from behind the low wall a big brown buzzard took flight accompanied by crows and mappies, I know it’s only a buzzard but theyre really big and very impressive in full flap just metres away, then it dropped it’s prey, a wriggling snake, probably a grass snake after watching springwatch the other week.
As we approached down the road we spied the cairn over the wall, we audaciously parked in the fishermen only parking space (not on my watch aquatic abuse monkey) and walked back down to it, it was very boggy, but at least no trespassing this time.
It really does look like a ring cairn , even looking down from google earth, and Gladmans sensational gods eye view pictures though he hasnt pointed out the cairn but two seeminly unmapped cairns closer to the mountian.
It looks like a ring cairn because the interior has been completely excavated, half a dozen large stones seem to line the inside arc of the ring.
Just to the north east is Hafotty fach menhir, and a hundred metres north is Careeg y big next to a small hill perfect for surveying the area and looking down a bit on the cairn and stones.
And the area really needs a good survey because it’s totally gorgeous, I almost forgot the other sites nearby and stayed for ages on this little hill.

Visited 25.6.11
Travelling west along the A420 there is a bus stop you can pull into at the turn off for North Wraxall.
Cross over and walk a short distance west along the road until you see a bridleway sign.
Follow the track past a couple of houses and the track then becomes a muddy path; through some trees and down onto the valley floor. Keep on the obvious path, over a handy wooden bridge, over a stream and you then start to climb up through the trees.
As you go into the trees, take the path to the right and follow the very muddy path up hill until you are nearly at the top of the hill. At this point official path goes around to the right (or left) so you need to make your own way up the steep hill through the undergrowth.
It is a bit of a battle but not too bad. I couldn’t see any obvious trace of ditch/ramparts on this part of the Hillfort.
Coming out on the other side of the trees, the centre of the site is a large grass covered field.
I didn’t have time to do a full circuit of the site as I had left Karen and the children back in the car and it had taken me 20 minutes to walk here. I could imagine the children playing up and Karen cursing me! I don’t know about the rest of the site but there are no remains of the defences along the north eastern part of the Hillfort to be seen.
One for the physically able only and if you do visit; remember your boots – the path is very muddy in places.

Visited 25.6.11
Taking a minor road south off the A365 between Box and Corsham we just about managed to park on a grass verge at the junction. The field hedge here is very high (way above head height) and I could see no way into the field from the roadside.
Eventually I managed to scramble up the bank (using the ‘Box (A4)’ road sign for support) and was just about able to peer through the hedge into the field.
The field was under long grass and waht I thought was the Barrow appeared as a long low mound approximately 0.5 metres high.
However, reading Chance’s report it looks like I may have been looking at the wrong part of the field!

Visited 25.6.11

The lay-by mention by Chance is the ONLY place to park when accessing this site.
Be careful when walking along the narrow road as it is a busy road and on several occasions I had to jump up onto the verge in order to keep safe!
A metal field gate gives access but despite wandering up and down I could see no obvious trace of any field works etc?
I did however get stung by thistles which gave a change form being stung by the more usual nettles!
Nothing to recommend a visit I’m afraid.

Visited 25.6.11

The minor road leading south west out of the cheerfully named village of Slaughterford is very narrow and has to be driven with care. As the road rises you drive clear of the trees and at the top of the hill is a metal field gate on the left – park here.
The field was in crop but I managed to carefully make my way towards the Barrow along existing wheel tracks. The Barrow is easy to spot being covered in trees, not far into the field.

There appears to be 3 Barrows here – one large and two small.
The large Barrow is about 2.5 metres high and perhaps 30 metres across.
The smaller two (right next to large one) and about 1.5 metres high and 5 metres across.

On the other hand this could be one very large Barrow which has been cut through the middle at some point so giving the impression of separate Barrows? If so, the original Barrow would have been about 50 metres across and would have quite a site in days gone by.

Worth having a look when in the area. The tree covered Barrow (s) is easily seen from the field gate if you don’t want to cross the field.

I awake to a promising dawn; dry, with high, broken cloud, albeit the wind having escalated quite considerably once again. The second of Aberdeenshire’s ‘legendary’ hillforts it is, then.... Tap O’ Noth. Yeah, as with the nearby Mither Tap, the ‘breast’ analogy is only too obvious upon arrival at – in fact well before – the spacious car park. Cope waxes lyrical (in the paper TMA) concerning the relationship these ‘mother hills’ had – still have, in fact – with the myriad RSCs, in various states of preservation, within visual proximity. I must admit I read this with a certain degree of cynicism at the time .... before I came and saw for myself. There really is no substitute for seeing with thine own eyes.

Drewbhoy’s notes have nailed the directions, so I won’t labour the point further.... except to say that upon the final approach the traveller has a choice of keeping to the main track, or taking a narrow ‘sheep track’ which ascends the mountainside to the right, towards the prominent ramparts crowning the summit. Note that a new ‘deer fence’ was being erected at the time of my visit – assume there will be a gate? Anyway, being impatient I took the latter route, and to be honest struggled a little in the fierce wind; however bear in mind that this conical hill, at 1,851 ft (564m), is more like a minature mountain in terms of terrain/vibe – so dress accordingly... for the worst. Yeah, after 20 odd years of walking Britain’s uplands I was certain I had all bases covered. Wrong! Suffice to say you never have everything completely sussed upon Britain’s hills.

Walking through the entrance, sited at the south-eastern corner of the great drystone ramparts, I suddenly leave the safety of the lee of the mountain and realise that, not to be outdone by Bennachie a few days earlier, Tap O’Noth is about to give me a serious ‘kicking’. With great big hob-nailed boots on! A group of youths, engaged upon some expedition or other, sit huddled below the OS triangulation pillar which crowns a section of vitrified rampart to the west. If this is their first taste of the hills, some introduction, lads! I check they are OK and proceed to take in the stunning view east to Dunnideer, the fragment of medieval tower crowning the much smaller ‘mother hill-cum-vitrified-hillfort’ clearly visible. Not to mention the iconic skyline of Bennachie itself to the approx south east. The view to the south-west is just as exquisite, ditto the other points of the compass (with a more woodland vibe), albeit into the teeth of the gale. And herein lies the problem... it is very, very difficult to stand, and impossible to move without bracing every step with trekking pole fore and aft. However I cannot leave Tap O’ Noth without traversing the mighty ramparts, the volume of stone contained within which is seriously impressive. Canmore records state that the defences consist of ‘a single wall... which may have originally been more than 20ft (6.1m) thick and encloses an area about 335ft (102m) by 105ft (32m)’. It is thus not the largest of enclosures, yet it takes me about 45 minutes to complete a circuit in, all things considered, the most extreme wind I’ve every encountered. In a way the titanic struggle I have today is appropriate... everything about Tap O’ Noth is extreme. Siting, defences, vitrification, views... and, last but not least, surely symbolism? To ensure I get the point Nature hammers it home with a very violent hail front which fair hurtles past. Strewth. I won’t forget my visit here in a hurry. Which is how it should be.

A site of this magnitude is deserving of more than the hour I have available after an afternoon at the wondrous Rothiemay. Having said that, however, an hour is purposely all the time I’ve allotted, since, despite the exquisite lighting conditions I cannot deny that I find myself somewhat ‘on edge’, uneasy even, at the way the Port Elphinstone locals treat their ancient heritage. Rubbish lies all around, violating henge bank and ditch to such a degree that I soon realise a skip would be needed to make any impact. Yeah, the vibe is all wrong, much like the henge at The Bull Ring before TMA’s Blingo recently did something about that fine site. So perhaps an hour is currently about right....

Despite such negativity, come here you must. For although one of the trio of uprights within the fine, upstanding henge earthworks, is a Pictish ‘newcomer’ (ha!), the aesthetic effect is first class, particularly when viewed under a dramatic blue sky featuring the optimum cloud cover. The henge is located to the approx south-west of the confluence of the Rivers Urie and Don, the significance of this perhaps the defining criterion way back then. Nowadays a petrol station, industrial area and housing estates form an inappropriate backdrop, masking the influence of Bennachie. [Drewbhoy’s suggestion that Port Elphinstone might have been the ‘harbour’ mentioned by Tacitus in relation to Mons Graupius is intriguing]. Of the avenue and RSC which apparently once formed part of the ritual complex here, all I can see is a single standing stone to the south.... so much has been irretrievably lost.

However an awful lot still remains.... much more than I anticipated, to be fair. As people walk their dogs, I instead take myself for a walk... much to my surprise beginning to access a vibe I thought did not – could not – exist. Things need to change here... a local stalwart needed to break the mould and rise above the overwhelming feeling of ‘who gives a monkey’s?’ Someone to reawaken local communual pride in this megalithic treasure which is still just about hanging on in there. Then perhaps there will still be hope for Broomend of Crichie? I truly hope so.

Consider this... much effort has been undertaken to build a – by all accounts – pointless cairn overlooking a nearby Kemnay housing estate. Why? To paraphrase John Lydon... why do we persist in believing illusions, when so much is for real? Could not some sponsorship be forthcoming from local business to safeguard the future of this wonderful little henge. Before it’s too late?

Note: If you’re reading this and want to accept the challenge... but don’t know where to start...why not contact Blingo – via the Forum – and see what can be done?

Wet feet to be expected when approaching this site...which is accessed over a stile from a back lane and a very discreet signpost. The gorse proves to be slight problem once you get close to the stone in that it obscures the opportunity of taking a good photo of the menhir in it’s gorgeous surroundings. The stone itself is much larger than I anticipated from the view I had of it over the stile...the whole area had a lovely feel to it on this lovely Spring day.

Lovely long slow climb to find this site...best of all...when you turn around and look at the views rising up at the back of ya. Keep an eye out for discreet signs saying ‘Dolmen’ and you will find it...not far away from Leitrim Beg standing stone...which doesn’t seem to be listed here...?!

Visited in May’11...the disappointment of finding a house so close to these stones in such a remote, otherworldly situation almost made me not want to get out of the car on my arrival...made worse by the fact that when I knocked on the door to ask for access...the homeowner charged me e1.50 to gain said access...having driven for what seemed miles down a bockety oul lane into the back of beyond...I thought I may as well pay up...but this tainted my experience here...at the risk of sounding like an arse. This IS a lovely site...there’s a gentleness to be felt throughout the craggy terrain...the stones lean in at crazy angles, providing shelter from the wind for the lambs recently born...I just hope some of my money went to appeasing the ‘good people’ (the true custodians of such sites!) for the sake of lady homeowner!!

I visited Ballycrovane in May ‘11...considering the stone’s impressive size I still found it hard enough to pin down once I got to the general locale...parked by happy coincidence in the drive of the house you need to walk past to get to the site. The homeowner came out to see who this interloper was..and helpfully told me I could leave my car where it was as I followed the path up the side of her house to the site. She never asked for any money..and left me to enjoy Ballycrovane and it’s majesty alone...which is always preferable!!

I missed out on Rothiemay during a short tour of north-RSC land a few years back. One of those sites that, in retrospect, I wished I had pushed a little harder to see... since the massive recumbent, according to Burl, features ‘an astonishment of megalithic art, over a hundred cupmarks and several cup and ring marks’ upon its inner face. As usual, he’s not wrong.... in respect of the ‘astonishment’ part, that is. I’ll take his word for it concerning the mathematics...

Aside from the massive, 20 ton recumbent, sadly now minus flankers, four approx 6ft circle stones still stand to give the impression of stone settings, rather than that of a bone-fide stone circle. Nevertheless they are impressive uprights, that located that to the east of the recumbent also cupmarked. However the substantial recumbent is the reason you should come to Rothiemay.... I give up counting the profusion of rock art which graces this mighty basalt block when I run out of fingers... hey, what else is a guy of my generation to do without a calculator?

The entrance to the lush pasture in which the Rothiemay ring stands now features a ‘Rothiemay Standing Stones’ sign. So access is not an issue.... assuming you’re good at opening very stiff field gates, that is. I’m not, but I can still climb. A bit. The River Deveron flows to the south beyond stables, the equine inhabitants galloping around under a striking blue sky filled with fast moving clouds serving to diffuse the sharp light. As I sit, buffeted by the wind, I ponder how great this stone circle would look if more had survived to actually ponder over. On second thoughts, though, there’s quite enough here to occupy a few hours of anyone’s time with exquisite thoughts.... verily, my cup marks runneth over.

Aberdeen is one of those places I guess I’m never destined to see in a good light.... always hammering down with rain, the precipitation dubiously complementing the granite architecture. Today is no exception, leaving me in not the best of moods as I leave the A90 north of the city, taking the B999 towards Tarves. However the open countryside raises the spirits, the sign for South Ythsie the expectations.... Ignore the official car park to the left of the minor road, unless you wish to visit the ‘Prop of Ythsie’ [a monument erected to Lord George Gordon, Prime Minister between 1852 – 1855 and copping much of the blame (unfairly, perhaps) for the disastrous Crimean War]. Instead park at the entrance to the farm track servicing the ‘Den of Ysthie’ a little beyond, to the right past a cottage. A brace of DIY ‘stone circle’ signs take it from here, indicating the way down said track. Veer left and... wow... what a beautiful little monument, iconic in profile against the skyline!

Six quite substantial stones stand upon a mound – or rather, according to Burl, the mound is heaped around the stones – the monument set within a field of cereal in serious, wind driven motion. Futhermore, Burl reckons the four tallest form a rectangle... thus South Ythsie (incidentally the latter bit is pronounced ‘icy’) might well be a ‘transitional ‘Four Poster’’. Nice. It is ceratinly a fine place to sit and watch the morning rain clouds swept away by the wind, to be replaced by blue. Who’d have thought it?

A local woman, with small children and poxy dog arrive to clamber all over the stones before leaving me in peace to watch the sky. Hey, one of the pleasures of visiting ancient sites is to actually lift your eyes above the horizontal and accept that you are just a tiny speck of humanity beneath the vastness above. Or something like that. Whatever, my proposed day’s schedule disappears into the great blue yonder, if not my psyche.

Magheracar is perched almost right at the edge of a small cliff and risks being washed away by a big storm at any time, very fragile indeed

It was the Coflein discription alone that inspired this summer solstice outing, there was ample parking, there was no else but me, no stone climbing hooligans and no sunshine, by 5am i was waterproofed and wellied up, the sun which had technically already risen would not appear over the mountains for another forty minutes maybe.
I started the long walk in high spirits, but wading through bracken, ferns and every species of Welsh upland fauna soon took the wind out of my sails, it was with much rejoicing that I finally came across a path, it wasnt on my map.
By now it was clear that this was all going to take much longer than I had anticipated, my wellies are good for walking over a few fields but mile after mile of this and my toes were getting sore and I was only one fifth of the way to my first target.
I left the path and headed for the corner of the foerst that leads down to the Nant Crechwyl, on my way down I came across a sheep lying down I made a noise so as not to startle it, but it didnt move so I clapped loudly, then it heard me, and then a really distressing thing happened it couldnt get up and it was lying in its own excrement
the poor sheep was obviously suffering greatly, but there was only me around and there was nothing I could do, so i left hastily trying not to distress the creature trying to get away from me.
At the bottom of the hill I crossed the small river and slowly made my way up the other side, at the top of that hill it was down and another river to cross back up to the hill that is Esgeiriau and from there we can see our destination, it had taken so long and knackered me so completely that I wondered if some hapless walker would come across my still quivering body, or worse.
Sheep and death apart, after crossing the Nant y Waun it was sunshine on a rainy day, big stones litter the hillside all around here, and the cairn is badly abused but still a great place to hang out.
Approaching it from the westish area all that is evident is the walls of an old sheepfold,I thought I’d got it wrong but upon looking over a wall there was the rest of the cairn and its hidden jewel of a still covered cist.
After a good sit down and watching three little birds (sorry i’m no ornithologist, perhaps you can tell me what it is in the picture), I walked around it clockwise of course getting a feel for it, the feeling I felt was this is great.
It would have been a big cairn if not for the walling, which i’m sure could be easily restored, and in its centre is that cist, its even got an opening to peer into or on a wet day repeatedly inserting the camera will do. The capstone is a big flatish lumpen stone, the kind weve seen on so many dolmens,just a touch smaller.
From here Pennant cairn is highly visible across the small river and up the hill but not at its top.
On a sunnyier day in appropriate footwear this would be a dreamy dreamland.

Pennant cairn is highly visible (in the right circumstances)from Nant Esgeiriau cairn and its only a fifteen minute walk from one to the other but a small river (Nant Esgeiriau) has to be crossed.
Even a quick look down from google earth will show that the interior hasnt just been annoyingly tampered with but entirely removed.
But standing within the cairns centre with grass underfoot, one can still feel cairn material underfoot. This isnt the work of hapless/brainless hill walkers, it was farmer git systematically remodelling it to keep sheep in.
To the north is the huge bulk of Carnedd y Ci , east is the misty peaks of the Berwyns, south is Nant Esgeiriau cairn and hill, and west is the forested slopes of Cwm Pennant.
Directly behind the cairn is a strange squarish arrangement of stones, if i’m reading cofleins notes right it could be a gunpowder store for the exploding quarry monkeys, it looks more like a cist or something to me, but then I do have ancient goggles on at all times.

From Pennant cairn the footpath to Cefn Penagored was clear, but I used the more direct sheep inspired route, thus missing out on Cwm Tywell ring cairn, now I know I’ll have to come back, Gggrrr I make myself so mad sometimes.

I approached Cefn Penagored ridge from Pennant cairn and walked along its western flank looking below me around me and everywhere, I could not see the circle of stones in cofleins pictures nor could I find the kerb cairn with central cist, but this little cairn (pictured) might just be one of the two satelite barrows next to that one.
Even when I came back the same way but favouring the lower slopes I still couldnt find it, but I did find the Penagored standing stone.

I was on my way to the Yr Aran cairns from Cefn Penagored ridge after another fruitless search for the ring cairn.
There was no path for me to follow, I had to cross a river that was too wide to jump, but before going down to the densely wooded river, I had been following an old field wall down from the upper slopes, it was made up of very large boulders, some were maybe six feet long.
At the bottom end of the wall and in line with it is this wide pointy stone, at odds with all the free standing boulders, I took a couple of pictures and proceeded to my river crossing. Only when i got home did I find it on here, it’s beginning to look like a return trip is on the cards, only in better weather hopefully.

It had been a really long morning and by now I was staggering around like a drunkard, I had reached the end of my endurance long ago, from here and back to the heaven known as “my car” would be on automatic, so ruthlessly had I pushed myself.

My map only shows two cairns, and seeing as Coflein wouldn’t let me play the few days before, I couldnt learn more about these cairns. which is a great pity.
I found at least six small cairns all of which had been got to by treasure hunters, leaving them in the donut shape that can on the one hand expose internal features and on the other desacrate a grave and ancient monument.
But after returning home and finding a back door into Coflein, Ive since found out that I didnt even find the two bigger cairns that are on the map, one of which still has its cist, only the cairn cemetry 150 meters to the west.

Twas the eve of 2011’s summer solstice, the weather was never going to be kind so I weather proofed up and headed for the western slopes of the Berwyn mountains. My main objective was to find some interesting cairns south of llandrillo, so I opted for the comfort and safety of a night in the car, but before that I went back up to these two obscure little circles.

The sun never came out at all but it didnt rain much, low lying clouds were moving through the valleys below giving it an air of mystery. The nearby hillfort was visible when I got here but it soon dissapered behind the thin mists swirling all around, never to be seen again (tonight).
The ring cairns innermost circle is remarkably intact
but only three or four stones remain of the outer circles, surrounding its circumference. The kerb cairn is only eight feet from the circles stones, and is less well defined but to the tutored eye it still retains some self respect.
After the obligatory tidy up (sorry I just cant help myself) and much sitting around interspersed with sporadic photography, I concluded that the sun had indeed gone down by now, so I jumped the low fence and waded and squelched back down to the conifer plantation, where I sat for another half hour hoping to see some wildlife, (inspired as ever by springwatch), I crouched near a freshly dug burrow of some sort and waited, but nothing came out, I only saw flying things out of the corner of my eye, but then a rustling produced a quick glimpse of some reddy brown fur passing from behind ferns to behind a tree. I really must stop singing that lumberjack song from Monty Python when ever I’m in a forest.

Here’s a turn-up for the books, and no mistake. A large cairn crowning a mountain summit.... and I don’t even ken it’s the ‘real deal’ at the time, so comprehensively – not to mention expertly – has it been converted into a walker’s shelter. Indeed, it could be said to represent the ‘pinnacle’ of muppetry! However Canmore is of the opinion it’s probably of prehistoric origin, an assertion that is given credence both by the siting and size of the stone pile. Bonus!

Oxen Craig, summit peak of Bennachie, lies more or less to the west of Mither Tap and is well seen from the top of the hillfort.. assuming an absence of cloud, that is. And hurricanes... Although the intervening landscape is crossed by specially constructed, signposted tracks – I assume to minimise erosion, albeit with an inevitable loss of upland aura – the walk is by no means easy this afternoon, being into the teeth of a pretty serious headwind, even in the lee of the mountain. Arriving at the summit I realise just how far conditions have deteriorated, even after leaving Mither Tap (the radio apparently reckoned the wind to be in excess of 100mph), it being more or less impossible to stand, let alone take any images of the cairn, upon the summit ridge. Ha! Perhaps that’s why Aberdeenshire is famous for its recumbent stone circles? Wise to follow suite, then, before the wind does it for me.

Nevertheless Oxen Craig is a good place to be, a fabulous vista towards the Dunnideer landscape probably the best on offer, although the image of Mither Tap in profile will no doubt stay with me for a long time. I make an attempt to find the ‘socketed’ stones, but I’m afraid Mother Nature has other ideas. Thoughts again turn to Mons Graupius and events which might have occurred upon the flanks of this windswept – hell yeah! – mountain in 84AD.... much like Harold at Senlac, what course might history have taken if things had have gone the other way? Bloody Romans.

I return to Maiden Causeway by heading approx north-east towards Craigshannoch, the landscape comprised of deep heather and very hard going underfoot. Hmm, perhaps the paths are a good idea after all? Although a ‘minature’ mountain, don’t take Bennachie lightly... in either the physical or metaphysical sense. It may well just blow you away.

Dawn arrives, bringing sunshine to Garrol Wood (or is it Mulloch Wood?), a welcome occurrence following yesterday’s torrential downpour. Consequently I decide it’s about time I took a closer look at the legendary Bennachie and see if I can determine whether it lives up to the not inconsiderable hype surrounding it. I mean, rising to just 1,733ft at Oxen Craig, yet it has its own visitor centre? Yeah, ‘there’s only one way to find out’, as the appropriately named Harry Hill might say. The drive north, through excellent, rolling countryside, is worth the effort in its own right with the name on almost every signpost seemingly familiar, thanks to Drewbhoy’s comprehensive posts. It’s therefore somewhat comical to note an apparently brand new cairn sited above an estate at Kemnay... what is that all about?

Initially I head for the ‘Bennachie Centre’, then reckon The Maiden Causeway will be a better bet, what with all the excavations opened nearby to take the new pipeline. The path from Rowantree (plenty of parking, public toilets... small hillfort, the usual) to Mither Tap is well maintained, the initial, rocky stages through woodland, then crossing the heather-clad northern ridge of the mountain to eventually ascend to the great hillfort towering above. Hmm. I reckon Bennachie’s converted me already.... but I must remain subjective. Admirable intentions, perhaps, but nonetheless blown to the four winds as soon as I see the magnificent main entrance passage and the sheer volume of collapsed rampart which encircles this mighty tor.

The preservation of the entrance, ‘barbican’ outwork aside, is breathtaking. OK, Mither Tap may not be truly ‘ancient’, at least not in the form we see it today – this view is supported by calibrated carbon dates of AD 640-780 and AD 340-540 obtained from charcoal found beneath cobbles near the entrance – but the remaining structure is still unprecedented, in my experience. Incidentally, according to Canmore, the standing stone incorporated within the northern flank of the passage may be a gatepost.... The ramparts have unfortunately been reduced to masses of tumbled stone, particularly the upper, located approx half way up the crag. Nevertheless it is abundantly clear that this was once some fortress – consider that the outer rampart is apparently 15 feet thick.

Steps assist the visitor to the summit, whereby the exquisite views immediately take centre stage. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, an exceedingly violent hail shower batters the fort , albeit for no more than a couple of minutes. People run for cover – where none exists – and are soaked to the skin. To be honest such a fate serves them right for taking such a flippant attitude to Bennachie. As the front recedes into the distance the light is simply exquisite, the atmosphere literally ‘washed’ clear of impurities. I sit awestruck, the wind speed beginning to build to extreme levels. Moving around the summit takes all my strength simply to avoid being blow over the edge. I gaze across to Oxen Craig, the summit of Bennachie and wonder if the battle of Mons Graupius actually did occur upon the flanks of this mountain in 84 AD? Yeah, Agricola might have annihilated the local tribal army with his Roman automatons, but he did not break their resistance... their will, if you like. Perhaps people really do reflect the landscape they inhabit... and – judging by Bennachie today – if the battle did take place here after all, Agricola really had no choice but to ‘jog on’.

A middle aged punter arrives and proceeds to try and take his young son to the summit. Wisely, I think, he heeds my warning not to if he ever wants to see him again! As for myself, a round of the ramparts is required. Then Oxen Craig calls.... Ooer. Do you think that’s wise, sir?