Latest Fieldnotes

The approach from Coetan Arthur was a lot more tiring and time consuming than I thought... thick gorse and soggy mud the culprits. However the concrete access path just seemed too, well... perhaps some will understand.

The tombs stand near the concrete bases of what I take to be World War II gun emplacements – historic monuments of immense significance, let it be remembered. However the summit of Carn Llidi, rising to the appox east, calls the stronger, as I guess such places always have to me. It is perhaps significant that the chambers are sited in a subservient location below and not at the summit itself. Then again this could have simply been a matter of practicality, I guess, since there’s not much room on top. What there is, however, is the most exquisite 360 degree view! Ramsey Island sits off the coast to the south-west, beyond the white breakers of Whitesands Bay, like some enormous beached whale. Hey, or sea monster! Yeah, this is a place for superlatives, the overblown... for legend... for burying your dead, in fact. Funny you should say that? Well, other people had the same idea, did they not?

Although only rising to 181m (whatever that is in proper height) the proximity of the sea ensures the head swims, the mind reels at the enormity of being here in the approaching dusk. Suddenly I realise I must make my way down – like, er, now – to avoid being be-nighted upon this rocky crag. But what of the tombs? I will have to return some day for a proper look, I guess.

This cairn is on top of a prominent hill just outside the town of fermoy in Co. Cork. Anyone taking the M8 from Dublin to Cork will probably have noticed its prominent cross while passing.

This seems to be another Christainised hill in Ireland. The hill is home to this huge cross on top and a “stations of the cross” walk. A sign-post on the way up to the hill reads that “stations” take place every friday morning on the hill still.

Along with the stations this hill has some great walks and now seems to be widely utilised by walkers, dog-walkers and there were some guys getting ready to go moutain biking as I was leaving.

I had an older version of the OS map without the M8 on it and so finding the correct route up was a little trickier. Basically the road to the main car-park is south of the two roundabouts up onto the M8 using an overpass of the M8 (If that makes any sense)

The walk from the car-park to the cairn on top is about 20 mins. I went left up the hill (which is shorter and I think follows the “station” route) rather than right which takes you on a longer walk to the top.

The cairn on top is very impressive, I from The Ballyhoura Hills Project it measures 40m (east-west) by 26m (north-south) and height 4m. Seemingly it is much robbed with its stones being used for a boundary around the hill and the cross itself which was built to commemorate the 19th century of JC’s death.

It was also excavated in the 1830s when they found a cist within. It was a double-compartmented cist which contained pottery vessels. The cist was found after moving hundreds of tons of stone. One chamber contained fragments of a vessel for food and the other ashes. There current location is unknown.

A WWII lookout post or bunker was also built into it.

Another site I’ve been meaning to get to for, oh, ages... but continually baulked at the long drive. Let’s face it, it’s quite a pilgrimage for most of us. But then I guess that’s the whole point... wouldn’t be a kosher pilgrimage if the journey was easy, would it?. So no more excuses man! It won’t get any easier with time, that’s for sure.

Entering St David’s upon the A487 is a somewhat odd experience. So this is a city, then? Hang on, Brecon’s also got a cathedral... yet remains a town? Good for Brecon, I say. I don’t get to see St David’s famous building, instead veering up the B4583 to park beside the thundering breakers of Whitesands Bay. Judging by the size of the car park, this is a popular spot in season. And rightly so, numerous ‘Johnny Utah’ surfer dudes ridin’ the crests in lieu of the bucket ‘n spade brigade... when they are not ‘wiping out’, that is. Awesome! Anyway, The Pembrokeshire Coast Path heads north from here, hugging the coastline – as you would probably expect of a coastal path – and consequently providing some excellent views down into rocky coves. Hey, this is worth the parking fee in itself. Except, out of season, there is no parking fee. Nice.

Coetan Arthur – certainly got around a bit, that Arthur, didn’t he? – is visible from a long way off, the chamber sited (arguably) somewhat unusually between crags upon St David’s Head itself. Incidentally, the map cites a ‘fort’ to the west. Upon arrival, I’m surprised at the size of the monument... for some reason I expected it to be diminutive. Perhaps because of the ‘sub-megalithic’ construction of the chamber, that is with one end of the capstone resting upon the ground, the other supported on an orthostat. However any aspersions of insubstantiality are strictly illusory, the chamber able to accommodate me with ease. This is just as well, since a vicious rain front suddenly sweeps in across Carn Llidi to give the landscape a pasting. But not me this time. Cheers Arthur. As I sit – or perhaps more accurately ‘slump’ – the sight of Carn Llidi looming beyond intrigues. Was there an association here?

The squall passes, the sun vanquishes the cloud and illuminates St David’s Head. I check out the capstone, a fine slab of stone with a pronounced ‘spine’ or ridge which... hang on... appears to point straight towards the site of the tombs upon the aforementioned Carn Llidi. Now, being somewhat the realist – I hesitate to say ‘cynical’, but perhaps – I’m wary of making the evidence fit a desired outcome. But, hell, it does appear to be a possibility [see image post]. Perhaps. Whatever, I find it difficult to leave this spot. The coastal views are sublime, Ramsey Island probably taking the plaudits in this respect, the chamber seemingly, well, just made for this very corner of Wales. Which, come to think of it, it was! I am glad I came.

Then, all too soon, time has expired. Can I make Carn Llidi before dark? We’ll see.

Finally got to visit on not only a dry day, but also in early spring before the bracken and everything else had taken over this site. For the first time I could make out the whole long cairn.
Stretching away up hill from the cist/quoit? is a boat shaped area walled in by low stones, this is what I have never seen before. I can see now why it is called a long cairn.
I would still love to know if the large stones that make up the central structure were ever all erect or were they a cist that was set above the present layer of earth and have collapsed as earth has been taken away........

Visited 12.3.11
As I was in the area visiting Coity Castle (CADW site – free entry) I thought I would pop along to revisit Coity Chambered Tomb.
When I lat visited I was still new to all this and when I saw the locked gate with the ‘private property’ notice across it I settled for a view from the hedge.
Being a bit more experienced, I ignored the sign, hopped over the gate and stepped over the stone stile immediately after the gate on the left. This gives easy access to the field and a two minute walk takes you to the chamber.
The capstone is about 5ft square and 1ft thick. Several large stones are underneath and another which seems to have been built into the field wall.
It was a lovely sunny day and the first time this year I have been able to walk across a dry field!
There were primroses in abundance – very pretty.

Ffyst Samson’s intrigued me for a while now. Hard to define the reasons why... I guess it just looks so, well, ancient.. so ‘hoary’, an iconoclasm to this modern world of ours which demands that everything must be defined, must have its place, must be categorised. Sanitised with bleedin’ antibacterial handwash before it can be touched. Ffyst Samson seems to say ‘I think not. Come back in another thousand years and we’ll talk!’ Yeah, sure, we think we know what it was for. A tomb. But what ritual, what rites were carried out here? Ffyst Samson seems, to me, to represent everything we don’t understand from the old times before we (apparently) learned to use our reason.

So, low cloud over Y Preselau suggesting it would be unwise to wander once again upon bluestone territory, I decide to pay an overdue visit. As noted by others, even a relatively recent 1:25k OS map is of little use, save directing me to a parking space (opposite a very long farm shed) a little south of St Nicholas. A footpath sign points uphill and.... basically keep going, crossing barbed wire fences when encountered until the ‘rocky outcrop’ is seen in the field to your left. Cross yet another barbed wire fence to enter this field and there the fabulous cromlech is. Not that my approach was that direct, you understand.... wouldn’t be fun otherwise.

The first thing you notice about the monument is that, like a bumble bee, the capstone shouldn’t really stay up at all.... that it manages to remain supported upon its two rough orthostats is an undeniable fact that seems to defy the very laws of physics themselves! The second is the rather obvious siting beside the rocky outcrop. Coincidence? Hmm. If I was a betting man.... The wind is absolutely biting cold, but there is no leaving here in a hurry. The Pembrokeshire coastline lies beyond, to the north, the hillfort of Garn Fawr prominent upon the horizon. Yeah, expansive views are there for the taking – sorry, that’s the wrong word... for the ‘accepting’ – but the difficulty of location, let alone access, ensures the vibe here is one of private meditation. No doubt this was not the original intention, but hey.

A further stone lies prostrate a little distance away, in all probability once part of the structure, but now taking it easy. Then there’s the rocky outcrop. Needless to say one can’t leave without a quick view from the top of the cromlech’s natural companion, predecessor, even, although the export strength briars and gorse render the accomplishment of this somewhat uncomfortable, yet nevertheless essential. Structurally speaking, Ffyst Samson is a simple monument of a type the antiquarians of old (not the Modern Antiquarians, oh no!) would have called ‘rude’ and ‘brutish’. Maybe. But I’ll tell you something, there is nothing remotely straightforward about the effect it – and others like it – can have on a receptive human mind. The power of suggestion, no less.

Perhaps the farmer is playing ‘silly buggers’ with regards access... or perhaps not? Whatever the case, in my opinion a visit here is worth the hassle. Not to mention a long drive.

It would appear that Brecon has always been a town of some significance. Today it is probably best known for lending its name to the ‘Brecon Beacons National Park’, a great east-west mountain escarpment effectively isolating South Wales from Mid, the highest summits of which soar above the town to the south. Topography was clearly the prime factor in assuring Brecon’s local primacy, a glance at the map highlighting the confluence of several rivers in the immediate locality, most notably the Usk and Honddu (Brecon is ‘Aberhonddu’ in the vernacular), as well as the north/south A470 and east/west A40 land routes. Those bleedin’ Romans – no mugs, it has to be said – were clearly well aware of this strategic value, siting a fort (Y Gaer) a little to the west, overlooking a ford across the Afon Ysgir near its confluence with the Usk, superseding a hillfort upon Coed Fenni-fach. The Normans, too, erecting a motte nearby, this itself replaced by the stone castle which still stands in the hotel grounds. Another hillfort is sited at Slwch Tump, not to mention several small enclosures upon the great northern ridges of the Brecon Beacons themselves. But it is that upon the great, isolated hilltop of Pen-y-Crug to the north-west that dominates the town.

It is possible to approach Pen-y-Crug on foot from Brecon... however the Mam C and I make our way to the north, via the little village of Cradoc, where parking can be found beside a recycling area. A bridleway, initially very muddy today, leads to the base of the hill before ascending the left hand flank, and hence gaining the ramparts. We’re here since a cloudbase of approx 1,000ft has buggered up any plans of adding to yesterday’s snow-bound excursion along Craig y Fan Ddu and Graig Fan Las. But any sense of this being ‘second best’ is immediately and irrecoverably banished upon setting eyes upon this fine fortress. Surely this must be up there with Wales’ finest Iron Age creations? To say I wasn’t exactly expecting to find a powerful quadrivallate enclosure (although reduced to tri-vallate at the steeper western flank, it has to be said) occupying the summit of this hilltop is an understatement all right. Nice.

Quarrying to the south-east has left its unwelcome legacy to some degree, but nonetheless the ramparts remain relatively well preserved, the views, particularly across the fertile Usk valley to the cloud-wreathed mountain summits, of sufficient quality to no doubt have excited Wordsworth should he have ever come here. Sadly I don’t believe he ever did, nor do I possess his poetic genius, but I think I get what the man meant when visiting such landscapes.... The aforementioned low cloud, not content with the likes of Pen-y-Fan, decides to pay our hilltop a visit, engulfing us in evocative, swirling mist before peeling away to leave washes of brilliant sunshine and a rainbow girdling the inner rampart. Hey, it’s true. There is treasure at the end of the rainbow! Hang on... where’s that ‘Ladybird Book of Poetry’ again?

The hillfort’s relationship to the surrounding landscape is intruiging – in particular with respect to the other two nearby enclosures. Were these contemporary? Surely not hostile? Friendly rivals?It’s also interesting that the Roman engineers didn’t consider Pen-y-Crug sufficient for their needs. Guess they required a much more aggressively placed site to control local movement. Ditto William the Bastard’s lot.

The Mam C’s long wanted to experience what the great Wessex hillforts are like. Ha! Pen-y-Crug.

Taking advantage of the decidedly spring-like weather I have just made my first visit to Scratchbury. There’s room to park just off the roundabout at ST914437 and then you can walk up the slope of Cotley Hill and across the down to the hillfort. I am not built for slopes and it nearly killed me (it’s not that bad really and is quite a decent path. There’s a stile right at the bottom and a kissing gate further on). The advantage of physical exertion and lack of oxygen to the brain means that when I do finally get to the top of these places, I’m feeling slightly peculiar. And this adds to their sense of being above the mundane. You can see and hear the traffic below but you’re well out of it in another world. I do like that.

Cotley and Scratchbury are an SSSI and there will be very interesting things to see there soon
https://www.english-nature.org.uk/citation/citation_photo/1001995.pdf
Today I was accompanied for some way by my first butterfly of the year, a brimstone. The plateau is full of peculiar mounds and dips, some of them clearly barrows, some of them more mysterious. Lumps of flint and chalk are everywhere. As usual I had my eyes peeled for that elusive arrowhead, in vain.

When you get to Scratchbury from this direction you are met by a huge bank. In fact the whole place is much bigger than I was expecting. I see now from this photo at Last Refuge that there is also a distinct inner enclosure. I was quite happy sitting on the very prominent barrow overlooking the view and unusually didn’t feel the urge to pace round the whole perimeter. I felt quite at peace. Thus I can’t really comment on the parking / climbing opportunities from the other direction. But I enjoyed the walk to and from the fort. I saw half a dozen people while I was up here, a positive Picadilly Circus compared to many similar spots.

It was rather restorative. I think I’ll be back.

Around 120m from the cairn Harland Edge SW (b) this circular cairn of around 6m in diameter is also overgrown and again probably related to a settlement or something below Harland Edge to the south (Harland Sick).

Unless you are walking Harland Edge then there’s not a lot to make you want to find this cairn. It’s roughly 5x4m in diameter and just visible above the scrub and heather.
From its position just below Harland Edge proper I would say it’s more than likely related to the settlement on Harewood Moor or perhaps one below the ‘edge’ itself rather than those on Beeley or Gibbet Moor.
Excellent views south over the remaining Eastern Moors to the White Peak in the south.

Small area consisting of a cairnfield and linear field clearance just about visible above the moorland grass a couple of hundred metres from the Millstone Sick. The NMR states that a house stance/platform is also visible but I couldn’t find or make that bit out for certain.

The NMR also records the possibility of a stone circle on Harewood Moor. In his books John Barnatt does not mention it however, and my search of the area has yielded nothing up to now.

In all the remains are not really worth the effort of a special journey, although the boundary stone that stands in an improved field and is known from the 16th century perambulations as Shirle Forke, approx. SK305670 and engraved with crosses is worth checking out in itself.

There are said to be 6 small cairns here, 2 of which are said to be definitely funerary because of their formal lay out i.e kerbs and dished interiors, but the area is so overgrown in thick heather or last years bracken that there is nothing to be seen on the surface.
Approximately 300m from the cairn at Fallinge Edge.

As Postman says very overgrown now...only two of the cairns remain visible and a small section of the kerbstones.
The rectangular setting nearby is now completely heather covered.

It’s not really worth the effort of the 800m or so rough and wet moorland crossing from the Raven Tor Triple Cairn to this small funerary cairn on Fallinge Edge.
It’s hard to tell whether the cairn’s been excavated at some time in the past or not. Although some of the stone has been robbed, no doubt when the nearby quarries were working, as half the cairn is only discernable from the ring of kerbstones that remain.
Around 7m in diameter and perhaps 0.4m in height.

Visited 24.2.11
As part of my on-going ambition to visit all 401 English Heritage sites I called in on Beeston Castle. I had no idea about its prehistoric founding but was pleasantly surprised when reading the guide book which has 3 pages on this (pages 19, 20, 21). This includes photos of flint arrowheads and bronze axe heads found at the site.
It is a bit of a steep climb up to the top of the castle (well it is when you are carrying a 3 year old!) but the view makes it well worth the effort.
The views really are stunning.
All in all a nice place to visit. Entrance fee applies.

Rounding off the day following a long overdue visit to Dunraven, I’m sad to report that this poor round barrow has been mutilated almost to the point of destruction. Hey, ho. Bearing in mind the complete lack of protection afforded the monument from the users of the nearby minor road – not to mention reports of the apparent aggressive/ignorant ‘attitude’ of some local landowners (one of whom, a sour-faced old bint, tried unsuccessfully to force me off the road as we passed) – I guess this is no great surprise.

Nevertheless worth a quick look if/by taking the ‘short-cut’ across the coastal hills from St Brides Major to Ogmore, via Norton (the site of crop-marks indicating an apparent causewayed enclosure, no less)

Slowly it dawns upon me just how special this Glamorgan coastline really is.... although, to be fair, the prehistoric treasures are not exactly obvious, particularly in the absence of an OS map. And again, who in their right mind would shell out for one covering the urban sprawl of Bridgend? Indeed. Nevertheless it would be a fine investment, as even a cursory glance at my newly purchased ‘library sell-off’ copy confirms. Numerous round barrows apart, a whole string of cliff/promontory forts are shown crowning the coastline. Duh! Only been visiting the Mam C here for 25-odd years....

Perhaps the most accessible of these Iron Age enclosures is that which overlooks Dunraven Bay, a little south-east of the seaside town of Ogmore-by-Sea and its near neighbour Southerndown. A newly refurbished road heads southwards from the latter (according to the Mam C the original was in dire danger of falling into the sea) to its terminus at a large ‘official’ carpark, a magnet for the locality upon those hot summer days which sometimes occur in South Wales. Today, with a hint of drizzle hanging in the air – or is it sea mist caused by the violent pounding of the cliffline by breakers? – there are still a fair few people about, walking dogs and what not. The majority head for the remains of Dunraven Castle, the ruins of a rather dodgy mansion which defile the north-eastern flank of the much older enclosure, presumably having destroyed the defences in that area.

The Mam and I, of course, head for the cliff line and sit a-while upon the relatively upstanding northern ramparts which still bar the direct approach from the car park. OK, these aren’t in themselves that particularly inspiring.... but the setting and coastal views most certainly are! A cliff-fort upon a cliff... whatever next? Pragmatic bunch, these ancient inhabitants of what was later to become Wales. The map shows additional ramparts to the south facing any approach from Trwyn y Witch (see Rhiannon’s post), although these are – to my mind – nowhere near as obvious. We go for a wander down to the aforementioned Trwyn y Witch... from here the cliff line is simply magnificent, the strata comprising the vertical rock faces, compressed and buckled by primeaval forces too powerful to even contemplate, rising above a raging malestrom of water. Fishermen have apparently been swept off this coastline to their deaths, and it’s not difficult to see why. Incidentally legend tells of how locals used to lure shipping onto the lethal offshore rocks, which are a prominent feature of these waters, in order to collect the resultant booty. Today surfer dudes brave the waves in search of spiritual enlightment.

The iconic coastline stretches away to the south-eastern horizon and, according to the map, bears numerous other Iron Age fortifications upon its dizzy heights – the nearest just a little along at Cwm Bach. Well there you are. Just when I thought the ‘list’ was diminishing....way to go, TMA’s Carl. The Mam is captivated by a bird of prey which perches upon a post to keep its beady little eyes upon us. Perhaps the greatest compliment I can accord Dunraven is that such a creature does not appear at all out of place here.

I tried to visit the barrows today and found the site very overgrown (mostly with holly) and access was very difficult to the point where I left without getting a look at the barrows.

The footpath from the road runs next to Grim’s Ditch which can be seen where the undergrowth (or overgrowth!) is less dense but the barrows are on private land and I didn’t want to spend too much time battling through the bushes.

Forming the final visit to a triumvirate of long barrows today – and preceded by the mighty Crippets and evocative Coberley – Lamborough Banks was, in retrospect, perhaps on a hiding to nothing in the Gladman appreciation stakes.

The unusual nature of the visit to come was perhaps foretold by a village sign along the B4425 duly announcing ‘Barnsley’.... now my route finding is bad, granted. But not that bad, I’d have thought? It’s not, the Ablington turn off at Bibury leading me past the former to an seemingly abandoned farm within trees to the left of the minor road. With no sign of a farm house (that I could see) and a deserted commercial concern of some description to my right, I decide to go walkabout down the seriously muddy track, veering right as suggested in previous posts. Sure enough, a break in the trees heads left past a large enclosure of chicken wire.... and there it is. A seriously overgrown long barrow.

And I mean seriously overgrown, a single orthostat upon the southern end of the mound all but consumed by brambles. So then, not a place to hang out unless you have a cast iron constitution... or happen to be a devotee of the Marquis de Sade. But hey, who am I to judge? Despite this, a walkabout hacking one’s way through the undergrowth reveals Lamborough Banks to be quite an upstanding monument, one featuring traces of what may well be chambers in addition to the previous mentioned stone.

And then the shooting starts.... shotgun reports to my north, south, east and.... yeah, there it goes... west. I’m surrounded by ‘individuals’ with guns, the sort who think shooting ‘things’ is fun. Oh dear. Time to leave unless I fancy a walk on/carry out part in a remake of ‘Southern Comfort’. Speaking of which, a man lurks silently in the trees as I return to the car. To be fair, however, a landrover parked in the yard suggests this to be the farmer not wishing to make a big deal. If so, I appreciate the gesture.

So, self preservation took precedence over the study of antiquity this time around – although the visit did last an hour. Come to Lamborough Banks when the guns remain silent and no doubt a great time can be had by all.

If visited following a sojourn at its not too distant neighbour, the Crippets long barrow, Coberley will always prove something of an anti-climax, I guess. Yeah, but not a disappointment.... since, although crudely dismembered by a lateral trench and subjected to numerous other horrors, Coberley nevertheless remains an upstanding, well positioned monument.

I approach from the east along what the map reveals to be the ‘Gloucestershire Way’, having parked upon the nearby minor road just before a sharp left hand descent to Coberley village. It is certainly an aesthetically pleasing approach above Coldwell Bottom to the south, the valley cradling what I assume to be the nascent River Churn? Ha! A long barrow upon a hillside overlooking a fledgling water course... whatever next?

The Gloucestershire Way veers to the south-west beside the monument, perhaps following the same contours of millennia past, an unlocked gate providing access to the long barrow itself. Once upon the barrow, the wanton damage to ancient fabric somehow becomes irrelevant – after the moral indignation has subsided, that is – as vast, billowing clouds take centre stage and raise both the visitor’s gaze and spirits (if not consciousness, but hey, one day perhaps?) to, quite literally, another level. The stratosphere itself, no less. The notion recurs.... is it just me or were these monuments designed as viewing galleries for a theatre where the very landscape itself was the stage?

Needless to say, it still is to me.

You know how it is... you love your job so much that you find yourself in the ‘use it or lose it’ annual leave situation upon entering February. How the hell did that happen. Again? So a week at The Mam C’s in South Wales it is, then. En-route, however, the usual Gladman improvisation kicks in and I arrive a little past 8am just south of Cheltenham. As you do. Ah, Crickley Hill....

However, having visited the Cold Slad some years back, I’ve my little eye focussed instead upon an apparently rather fine long barrow the Sweatcheat kindly brought to my attention a while back. A minor road leaves the A436 near the A417 roundabout and, in a short while, a bridleway leads to the left beside woodland.... where it is possible to park a car. The path, initially very muddy – hey, this is a field after all – leads gently uphill to a further belt of trees, Crickley Hill rising to my left. The long barrow lies within the field beyond to the north, the field best entered by the gate mentioned by SC in its western (left) flank.

First impressions count for a lot, or so they say. Sadly I concur.... sadly, since I’ve no doubt we miss out upon so much which is not readily and immediately apparent at first glance. But not here. One glance is enough to completely entrall this early morning visitor, a classic copse of trees surmounting what appears to be a very substantial long barrow indeed. For once a foreshortened aspect does not deceive – not in the slightest. Horses grazing the surrounding pasture approach to check out the intruder and – apparently satisfied – resume what horses do best. Hey, perhaps that ‘horse whispering’ stuff actually works? Or perhaps I simply told them to ‘piss off’ in horsey language? I hope not.

As I climb the mound and settle down for coffee the sun breaks through the morning mist, sending well defined shadows of monument and tree line across the field. The moment resonates with abstract meaning I cannot define....

The long barrow is in pretty good nick, it has to be said, despite some obvious damage at the eastern end where, presumably, a chamber was once located? Not sure whether this was the result of ‘excavation’ or treasure seeking muppets, but needless to say the end result was the same. The visit turns into a full morning hang, the munching horses adding to the aura of calm and well being here. No reason to leave.

N.B – According to the OS map a ‘tumulus’ lies a little way to the approx south of the long barrow. Perhaps I’m not that perceptive, but it would appear very little remains save an almost imperceptible rise. If this is not the case, I guess the former applies!

This is a single round barrow south of the group in Puddletown Forest which in cludes the Rain barrows. It is situated on farmland, north of Boswell’s Plantation, just off the heathland which used to stretch all the way to the New Forest. Just off a farm track, it is on private land and can be seen from the road and from the large round barrow south of the Rainbarrows. It appears to be in fair condition and of medium size.
The hedgerow goes over the middle of the barrow.

From Lyneham Long Barrow we walked in a more or less straight line along the Darcy Dalton Way to Sarsden then onto Churchill.
Just as you walk up into the village across the lovely Sars Brook the moss-covered remains of what may have been a chambered tomb stand at the entrance to the Old Rectory on the right hand side of the road. Stones on either side of the driveway – the village church of All Saints was just in view behind the larger stones resonating with the Cove at Stanton Drew.

We concluded our day out Oxfordshire trip to look at the ‘other stones’ by sitting in the now warm spring sunshine on the bench outside the church. Next to the bench is a magnificent line of standing limestones .. intriguing indeed.

Once again, many thanks to Ocifant for posting this information on The Heritage Journal thus facilitating a truly memorable stony day out.

Four miles west of Chipping Norton at the side of the A361. We parked by the sign pointing to Chadlington and Chilson and walked back to the barrow across a field. The most striking thing about it was the large standing stone which is now separated from the barrow by a barbed wire fence (evidence of sheep but none in the field today). We walked along the corner of the field and climbed over a wooden bit of the fence to gain access to the barrow. A tangle of moss covered stones littered about, the barrow is now completely covered with either hawthorn or blackthorn bushes.

We parked on the Charlbury Road to visit this enchanting scheduled ancient monument – the remains of a what must have been a magnificent chambered tomb perhaps once on a par with Waylands Smithy. One very large stone and a few smaller ones, it stands within a Cotswold stone enclosure surrounded by holly trees. The overall impression was one of dark green coolness. A place of tranquillity in spite of the nearby busy road.