Latest Fieldnotes

I visited this area a couple of years ago when paying a visit to Candleston Castle (ruin). There was a charge for the car park when I visited although I suspect they only bother to charge in the summer months? The dunes are large – similar to the ones at Kenfig Sands (which also has a ruined castle slowly being burried by the sand). There could be just about anything buried below the sand.
As Gladman rightlt points out, the castle at Ogmore is better and the stepping stones are great! You can also get a cuppa and a bite to eat in the farm house next to the castle.

Damn and blast! “Visited” 3.1.2011 and didn’t bother looking at the Coflein map or Mr G’s map refs before going. And went the wrong way! Aargh. We were no more that 100 yards from the western cairn when we turned off the path southwards....

A further visit is clearly in order to assuage my immense irritation.

I dunno Mr G, you give me a simple job to do...

The A4061 is still blocked by snow beyond Nant-y-moel this Bank Holiday Monday; consequently the Mam C and I head westwards in a bid to reach Y Mynydd Du, or thereabouts. Unfortunately time is limited by a late start, so I make a snap decision to park-up at Craig-y-nos [Cliff of Night] and (try to) visit the fine stone row which stands, unseen, above and to the west of the mock medieval edifice, once the home of Victorian diva singer Adelina Patti. The acknowledgement of a  farmer – imagine a hybrid cross of Beethoven in his 50’s and an elderly W.E. Gladstone driving a dumper truck – serves to fortify willpower flagging at the sight of so much bloody snow! Yeah, the last time we were here, some years back now, it was August and pushing 90 degrees. Bit different today, then.

The route uphill to the row is not that clear, the most obvious public footpath sign – opposite the old mansion – directing the visitor through an area of equine enclosures which may be a little off-putting when filled with the beautiful, unpredictable beasties. In retrospect, however, I guess this is the favoured route if you wish to avoid knocking on farm doors. Needless to say we take the path further to the north and swing round through Nantygwared farm, the farmer kindly allowing us passage through his farmyard, before beginning the relatively short, yet steep ascent to Saith Maen. The going is far from easy due to deep, drifting snow, the Mam C actually completely disappearing within the mantle on one occassion. Ha! Well she does love it so, I suppose. Cribarth dominates the valley to our left, the form and texture of its steep crags accentuated by the conditions. Veering to the right, away from the Nant y Gwared (stream), we pass a small shake hole on our left... and there it is.... a classic stone row set in surely some of the most brutal, yet beguiling winter conditions a seeker of such treasures could wish for? It’s seriously cold, though, the frozen waterfall petrified upon a crag to the approx north-west speaking volumes through its inactivity.

Of the stone row’s seven othostats the two largest have (predictably, I guess) fallen. The remaining stones – including the lead – are nonetheless pretty substantial..... The alignment leads the eye beyond the confluence of the nascent Afon Tawe and Nant Tywymi to Bwlch Bryn-rhudd, the mountain pass carrying the A4067 between Bronze Age funerary cairn crowned Waun Leuci and Fan Gyhirych, the latter engulfed by a mass of freezing fog. There are further such monuments set upon Cribarth, the peak towering above to the south. Yeah, it is a fine site, especially so bearing in mind the paucity of substantial stone rows to be found in Wales.

But there’s more. The usual sedimentary ‘red’ sandstone – which comprises most of the high South Walian uplands – gives way to limestone here, the peculiar water solubility of which makes it liable to feature cave systems like the nearby Dan-yr-Ogof showcaves... and – more to the point – circular depressions known as ‘shake holes’. There is a truly massive – nay, awesome – example of the latter immediately to the north of Saith Maen. View the monument from the far arc of this shake hole and I think you’ll agree the placement of the row is no accident. Can’t be, surely? In fact I’d go as far as to say this shake hole should arguably be regarded in the same context as the natural gorsedds at, say, Bryn Celli Ddu and Capel Garmon... that is as an integral component of the monument. [I have a couple of further images exploring this association should it be of interest to anyone].

Before we leave this barren hilltop we simply have to visit the aforementioned frozen waterfall... wonderful, but the difficulty crossing the deep snow means we return to the car nearing dark. The Mam C still adores her snow. My head, however, is filled by that shake hole. My old teachers would say that probably explains a lot.

Boxing Day morning dawns with a heavily overcast sky... in stark contrast to yesterday’s pristine, cloudless blue. Typical. No snow, though, a state of affairs which, despite the Mam C’s assertions to the contrary, I’m pretty happy with, to tell you the truth. So, leaving the Mam to look after little Evelyn – wild horses wouldn’t drag her away, not even her favourite, incomparable Welsh cobs – I head towards Nant-y-moel and the round barrow upon Werfa... only to find the A4061 blocked by snow. Bugger. What now? Help me Rhondda, to paraphrase the Beach Boys badly out of context. Although they do appear on just about every Christmas compilation I’ve heard, to be fair.

Tythegston pops into the head. Aye, that’ll do. Back towards Bridgend we go, then. However, upon arrival at the parking area mentioned in previous posts, I notice a brand new ‘private’ sign in situ upon the now chained gate. I therefore decide to check out the approach from the village itself, the map showing a public right of way across the intervening field of shimmering white. Right on! No problem parking, although I very nearly sprawl headfirst upon the icy road before the stone ‘stile’ across the wall. Almost, but not quite. I think the Russian judge gave a 4. Anyway, a couple of magnificently gaunt trees in winter raiment lead the eye towards the distant long cairn... the monument – as you would expect – profiled upon the skyline to the left of a prominent area of woodland [see image]. Further stiles allow access across a cross-track [the one now officially ‘private’], the right of way traversing the following field to the right of another iconic tree. At the far boundary the long cairn once again becomes visible, remnants of the usual covering of undergrowth all that escapes the overwise overwhelming mantle of snow.

There’s something about deep snow, isn’t there? To be honest I wouldn’t choose such conditions for a first visit to a complex site since, as with mountain landscapes, deep snow obscures form, camouflages detail.... I suppose you could say remakes a site in its own image? But there’s no denying it adds a special ‘something’ to the vibe. For me, Tythegston has two salient details..... firstly and not surprisingly, the large capstone which still surmounts the mounument, today bearing the tracks of an unknown creature (fox?) no doubt looking for a vantage point, in its covering of snow. And secondly, the view of the Mynydd Herbert round barrow, which is perfectly profiled upon the (approx) north-western skyline when seen from the capstone. Coincidence? Yeah, right.

This is a fairly upstanding long cairn which Coflein describes as “A disturbed oval stony mound, 29m WSW-ENE by about 20m and 1.2m high, the capstone being the only visible structural feature; a number of loose small boulders along the northern side of the mound are thought to result from recent field clearance. Source: RCAHMW AP955221/59”. I’d concur with that.

In lieu of visible detail I consequently sit/lie upon the capstone, drink my coffee, open a chocolate orange upon said capstone [how many people can claim that?] and ponder..... and ponder. As you do at places such as this. Finally, following a somewhat confusing attempt to check out an ‘enclosure’ shown upon the 1:25K OS map within the nearby trees, I return to the car just before dark, having made an unholy mess of the previously virgin snow lying round about this Christmas time. Hell, someone’s gotta!

There are times, particularly during high summer, when this otherwise superb stretch of South Walian coastline can seem somewhat.... how can I put it?... ‘Gavin and Stacey-like’, I guess. What with the amusement arcades and rides of Porthcawl to the immediate west and local punters packing out the beaches of Ogmore-on-sea and Southerndown, it is best avoided. At other times, such as was the case upon Christmas Day 2010, it can be enchanting.

It’s difficult – if not impossible – to succinctly define what ensures a prehistoric site/location is ‘enchanting’ or ‘evocative’. There are many contributary factors, usually involving an complex interplay of physical remains and landscape setting, together with prevailing weather conditions, lighting etc. Merthyr Mawr Warren relies exclusively upon the latter since there is very little, if any – from my experience anyway – physical remains of prehistoric structures to be seen amongst the great sand dunes. However the lack of people and, primarily, the exquisite colours generated by the low mid winter sun contrasting with a white mantle of snow, make the Warren appear postively ‘otherwordly’ this Christmas afternoon. Forget the gaudy seasonal decorations, this is artistic embellishment of the highest possible calibre. Nature knows best, methinks. According to the GGAT website (see miscellaneous) humankind has occupied this landscape since, well, forever. This is – in the most literal sense – ‘The Sands of Time’ personified. On occasions like this the landscape itself is overwhelming, short circuiting the human psyche with the sheer contrast in light. The Exmoor coast looms beyond little Tusker Rock as clear as I’ve ever seen it... but all too soon we must leave to further participate in that ritual we call ‘Christmas’.........

Merthyr Mawr Warren is most easily accessed by following signs for Merthyr Mawr village from the A48, there being a parking area at the terminus of Merthyr Mawr Road, near Candleston Castle. A much better alternative – for those with time – is to park at the Norman fortress of Ogmore Castle and cross the Afon Ogwr, via some wonderful stepping stones, followed by suspension bridge to the chocolate box village of thatched cottages; hence follow the road to the left (west), past the church.

If you decide to visit keep your eyes peeled. Who knows? You may be perceptive enough – or lucky enough – to uncover the sand dunes’ more tangible secrets that have eluded me to date? If not, the intangible attributes should see you alright regardless...

2/11/2010
I’ve seen the Beckhampton or Longstones long barrow many times – as the 49 bus whizzes around the Beckhampton roundabout. It sits approximately at the end of the Beckhampton Avenue, tucked away at the side of Beckhampton training stables.

Today I took myself off for a much needed ramble – the walk went via Yatesbury then up to Windmill Hill. On the final part of the walk we returned to the layby near Beckhampton along a very muddy track which is virtually a continuation of the path down from Windmill Hill. It was an unusual perspective of the Beckhampton Avenue and one I have not experienced before. Strangely, it seemed to bring this lesser known part of Avebury to life – easy to visualise that the Avenue led to the long barrow much in the same way as the West Kennet Avenue leads to the Sanctuary. The other aspect of the landscape that seemed to fall into place was the relationship of Folly Hill (over which now is the road to Beckhampton) to the bigger picture of Avebury. I intitially posted a brief fieldnote which included the paragraph below, however, today walking with a group of ramblers (far to many to be honest) somehow triggered a deeper understanding of the mysteries of Avebury which took a little while to percolate.

Passing the Longstones (Adam & Eve) I got to talking about the Longstones long barrow; someone in the group said that when the Longstones barrow was excavated plough marks were found under it – suggesting the land had been ploughed before the barrow was built. Apparently the oldest known plough marks to be found.

Mynydd Pen-y-fal, aka the ‘Sugar Loaf’, is a mountain possessing a distinctive profile which seems to ingrain itself upon/within the consciousness of walkers of upland South Wales... in a similar manner to that of the much more substantial Pen-y-Fan and Corn Du to the west. Why this should be so, I don’t really know, but many has been the time the Mam C has excitedly pointed it out from the summit of much higher peaks. It’s shapely isolation rising to the north of Abergavenny beguils, maybe, or is there simply ‘something’ in the local memes, perhaps? As a result I had to bring the Mam here, sooner or later, if only to stop her bloody going on about it, although at pains to point out that it possessed no prehistoric cairns. That I knew of, that is. Shows how much I knew, then.....

By far the easiest approach is from Abergavenny itself, a busy gateway town, with remnants of a Norman fortress where William de Braose infamously murdered the local Welsh leaders in 1175. King John, in turn, sorted him out and the present day locals appear to hold no grudges to visitors .... although if they knew my mum’s maiden name was ‘Bray’ things might be different! Anyway, a minor road leaves the A40, just past the hospital on the right [heading west out of town], climbing steeply – and rather spectacularly, it has to be said – to a large parking area upon the southern flank of Mynydd Llanwenarth, this boasting superb views across the Usk to neighbouring Blorenge and its massive Bronze Age burial cairn. Hence, clear and obvious paths lead northwards towards the summit of the Sugar Loaf. This should be well within the scope of even occasional trekkers as long as right hand diversions down into Cwm Trosnant are avoided! A final, steep section brings the traveller to the top, crowned by a pristine white OS trig pillar. And most certainly no funerary cairn. Not up here anyway, although they grace many of the summits of The Black Mountains arrayed in splendid ranks to the north. Yeah, despite just failing to reach that ‘magic’ [in reality purely academic] 2,000ft mark, the Sugar Loaf is one hell of a viewpoint and well worth the effort of climbing purely for the perspective it provides of this corner of Wales, particularly bearing in mind the relatively modest effort involved reaching the top. Ysgyryd Fawr, that sacred-hill-cum-hillfort, is seen to great effect to the east with another hillfort, Crug Hywel, profiled to the north west.

Your average punter can return to the car from whence they came... or – in retrospect the essential route for any TMA-er – the more adventurous may follow the grassy ridge to the west. We choose the latter on a whim and, while passing a couple of cairns nearing the end of the ridge, the Mam C comments that these do indeed look very, er, ‘old’ to her. Upon checking the map, I reckon not and think that they must be ‘walkers’ cairns’ since this is such a popular peak (ha!). We consequently don’t linger, but swing southwards before descending sharply eastwards to pick up a track back to the car.

So ends a brilliant day, but one with an unexpected, if somewhat embarrassing, yet very welcome twist for the old stone hunter. Subsequent checking of Coflein records confirm that the Mam was indeed right. Sugar Loaf has its funerary cairns after all....

Visited 29.12.10
On the way home following an ad hoc visit to Shrewsbury we happened to be passing this site. I wasn’t going to bother visiting as it was nearly dark and very foggy. However, Karen persuaded me it was worth a quick look (how lucky am I to have a girl like that?!) so we took the old Roman road south off the A44, just east of Leominster. This road runs past the southern end of the Hillfort, where you will find a rather posh house with a public footpath/sign which basically runs through their garden!
As the light was fading fast I didn’t bother to change out of my trainers into my walking boots (mistake!) and headed straight over the wooden stile and followed the footpath signs through the garden, past the still frozen pond.
You then go through a gate and the footpath continues alongside the river. I however headed immediately to the right, through the bushes to catch first sight of the lower defences. There is a rampart about 1.5 metres in height, with an inner ditch, about 1 metre deep. Along the edge of this ditch, as far as the eye could see (not very far given the conditions) was a barbed wire fence. There doesn’t appear to be any public right of access to the Hillfort so I wasn’t overly surprised by the fence. I walked along the ditch until I happily came upon a fallen tree which had flattened a section of fence. I scrambled over the fence only to be confronted with an approx 8 metre high very steep and muddy bank. I slipped and slithered my way up wishing I had taken the time to put my boots on. Eventually I got to the top where there is a flatish area of grass about 10 metres across. I then came to the next steep, muddy bank – this time even bigger – about 10 metres high. Again, I managed to scramble to the top, on hands and knees in places, and came out to the top of the Hillfort. This comprised of a large, flat area which had been planted with trees (an orchard perhaps?). The outer edge of this area was surrounded by another rampart, still 2 metres high in places.
By now it was almost dark and I could hear voices in the foggy gloom, somewhere amongst the trees, and even shotgun blasts in the distance – very Hammer House of Horror! Getting down the banks was even harder that getting up but somehow I managed to swing from tree trunk to tree trunk without injuring myself. The patches of snow on the ground didn’t help much!
By the time I got back to the car it was dark but luckily Dafydd was happily looking at the frozen pond through the car window whilst little Sophie (newest member of the clan) snoozed in her car seat (her first experience of ‘old stoning’!) – so no stress for Karen! I only had chance for a quick visit and I guess it would take a fair bit of time for a proper look around – perhaps another day?

Visited 29.12.10
Taking the turning west out of Craven Arms off the A49 you go under a railway bridge and shortly on your right you will see a sign for Greenfields Road – park here. Walk along the main road west a short distance and on the left you will see a sign for Outspan Nurseries (pointing to the right) and an old rusty gate giving access to a field.
Up and over the gate, across the handy bridge over a stream and a two minute walk up the slope takes you to the Barrow. I say ‘takes you to the Barrow’ but in fact it takes you to a barbed wire fence next to the barrow. No problem as the largely ploughed out Barrow is easily spotted on the brow of the small hill. I would estimate the Barrow to be about 1 metre high and about 10 metres in diameter – covered in many mole hills. Despite only being a small hill, it does give a surprisingly commanding view over the surrounding area – at least it would if it wasn’t so foggy!
Easy to access (technically no public access) when in the area.

Visited 12.12.10
There are several cairns scattered across Gelligaer Common. One of the best preserved can be found at SO098033. This cairn is about 5 metres across with a large central cist and a capstone about 1 metre square – supported on edge of cist. It was painfully cold in the bitter wind, with snow a couple of inches thick lying all around. Needless to say I didn’t hang around too long.

There is also a cairn at SO098031 (which I failed to spot) and further cairns a little North West of the parking area at SO105031 (which I was too cold to look for!)

Visited 12.12.10
A short walk south west from Carn y Bugail will bring you to this ring cairn. It is approximately 10 metres across with about a dozen large stones sticking out of the grass forming a rough circle. Easy to spot despite the snow.
The centre of the cairn has a depression (dug into?) which was full of snow, so I was unable to tell if a cist was remaining?

A bright, clear Boxing Day was a fine time to walk south from Westerham and find this beautiful spot. The hill fort itself, sadly, is covered with wretched rhododendrons, but you can still see some small banks, remains of the earthworks that one can only imagine were once very magnificent.

There is an interesting bank along the edge of the field at the base of the wooded hill, made more noticeable, perhaps, by the snow. I expect this was created by the river, perhaps when in full spate at the end of the last Ice Age, and the way it deliniates the bottom of the hill may have seemed fortuitous to the first inhabitants, who may indeed have increased it as part of their defences.

The site’s location is perfect: the springs of the Darenth are in the meadow at the hill’s base, so the inhabitants always had fresh water, and a fertile pastrure for their animals. As it leaves the vale, the nascent river describes a bend around a hilly spur, which thus encloses the place, giving it a great feeling of homeliness and safety.

I am grateful for the earlier post here, that the two mounds that one passes on the way to this place from Westerham are from an air raid shelter: we spent some time wodnering if they were barrows or not: they seemed too small, and it is good to have confirmation of their red-herringness – but it is a shame: it would have been a good spot to have been buried.

The site’s size and location seems to indicate that it was a satelite of Oldbury Hill, which lies to the east.

All in all, thoroughly worth visiting.

In the 1930’s Marwick spotted settlement remains at the Point of Quoyelsh. During visits in 1989-1990 D.Lynn and B.Bell found pottery and stone finds there, with a body sherd giving the site a date likely to be no later than the Iron Age, and found the surviving corner of a (?domestic) structure (RCAHMS NMRS record no.HY20NE 73 ). Dave describes the site as about two-thirds of the way up a cliff section below a slight surface rise, adding that there is also grassed mound set back from the cliff edge nearby. From my photos he believes that the deeper masonry [closeup 1] is ‘newly’ exposed and suggestive of better survival than originally thought. Along the southern side of the Point itself there may be other archaeological traces as by the base there is a long white something I only spotted on a photo that looks good for Marwick’s find – could be mediaeval like Head of Houton carved stone or there is a slim possibilty that it came from White House around the corner as I have known whole sections of brick wall to be washed up on the shore in Orkney. A little further north along this half of the Bay of Navershaw another settlement is partly exposed cliffside (HY20NE 24 at HY268092 probably Neolithic) but I did not know this at the time

Armed with the new information I walked the Grimeston road, which is basically a broad U-shape. Coming up the northern leg you come to a T-junction. Here a short stretch of road goes north to the Stoneyhill Road. At the end of it is the field of the ‘Feolquoy’ mounds with another such to its north and that containing the Staney Hill long cairn to thats north. The field above this short piece [i.e to its east] has the Staney Hill standing stone itself. At this junction the main portion of Henge is in the field on the right, though of course this would have been one with the standing stone field before the’modern’ road. In the near (SW) corner I could see a very well defined feature, a circular bank not many yards across around a flat depression full up with flat stones or slabs. When you are almost at the highest point of Staney Hill there is a very large curving ridge running across, with the supposed entrance a few yards wide clear to see. It is most definitely the line of an old track. Which isn’t to say that this could not have been placed along a causeway which its construction destroyed. Turn your eyes to the other side of the road and at the highest point there is a distinct low mound that Dave said would originally have been the place to which all eyes were drawn, rather than the common idea that such heights are for looking down on folk and other sites. Looking downhill/W I could now make out another ridge. This is lower to the ground. Which is another reason to suspect we are dealing with natural features, for one would expect this to be the henge’s higher standing section of bank (as with, say, the Hillhead enclosure). The whole of the Staney Hill and Grimeston area is covered with the likes of surviving and dead burns, rocky outcrops, marshy bits. Which would explain why the tracks shown in 1882 are very far from straight. Unfortunately there were several pockets of sheep preventing my closer viewing of the uphill part. Also if there is archaeology here it would probably need pointing out by those with the knowledge. At least I now know why there were so few photos – even my sites have to have something to them ! I did, however, investigate the [as it were] ‘ringwork’. Definitely in need of a tidy up. As well as the slabs a lot of the central depression is taken up by a part-buried piece of modern machinery. There are a few visible voids, including one I could see inside. Kneeling down for a closer look in this latter there is about a foot of space into which a short piece of the machinery’s cable projects. There was a possible large stone forming the bottom. Sticking my hand inside I unprofessionally tried to lift this. It broke in two and seems to be simply a clump of earth.
On another visit looking from a point S of Henge across from the south bit of road I could see the land distinctly drop off, and this edge is a very smooth curve visible on the 1:25,000 as a contour line. Roughly West of of Henge is the Staney Hill standing stone. Then there is that ‘viewpoint’ mound, maybe a couple of feet high. Come clockwise and further down is where Andrew extracted a piece of portable art from ploughsoil by the layby, the Grimeston Girlie themodernantiquarian.com/img_fullsize/90302.jpg having similarities to the Westray Wifie found this year. Unless O.A.S. publishes the chap’s doctoral thesis we shall probably hear no more of Henge’s real archaeology as an SMR seems unlikely.

Standing between The Pipers gives an impressive view of the Cheesewring – the hill is right in the centre of your field of vision. If these are indeed genuine antiquities, this must have been an important factor in their positioning.

Boxing Day, 2010 CE, 15:00

After visiting Trethevy Quoit, where not a soul was to be seen, it came as a bit of surprise to find that we were not the only ones to brave the snow on Boxing Day. About 50 people were present around the Hurlers and the Cheesewring.

Standing between The Pipers gives an excellent view from a distance – this position forces the cheesewring into your perspective, and I don’t doubt that these stones were put here for exactly that purpose.

In the snow, no track was visible, so we had to go carefully climbing up the rocks and boulders on the hill.

The view from the top is incredible, and underneath the Cheesewring is the perfect spot for a picnic.

Boxing Day 2010 CE, 14:00

The road leading up to the quoit was far too icy for driving, so we parked in the village and went on foot. In retrospect it was better this way anyway – for such a large structure you can see nothing of it until you are about 30 foot from it – and then the size is really striking.

It’s possible to squeeze inside the chamber, but since the back stone has fallen down there is little room. The angle of the capstone is mind-boggling – just a few more degrees and it will almost certainly slide.

No-one was here when we came, and if it wasn’t for the grim-looking houses built right next to it, this place would be much more mysterious. But still, at least it’s here, and with a little imagination it’s not hard to see what it would’ve been like.

‘Visited’ 12.12.10
My 500th Field note!
Well, last time I tried to find this cairn I gave up due to the fog. This time I gave up due to the snow! Despite knowing I was in the right place I couldn’t see any sign of the cairn. I assume the lying snow kept it well hidden? It was a bitterly cold day with a biting wind – not much fun when ‘cairn hunting’. I have visited Gelligaer Common 3 times, and every time the weather has been awful. I get the distinct impression that it is often like this in this part of the world. Hopefully you will have better luck?

Visited 12.12.10
This is recorded as a 6th century memorial stone which once had an inscription on it that read NEFROIHI ‘the stone of Nia-Froich’ (an Irish warrior whose name meant ‘champion of the heather’. Although I failed to find any trace of this carving now.
The stone itself is leaning and about 5ft high – it would be about 7ft high if stood upright. The pool of water the stone normally stands in was frozen over so I thought I would get a closer look by standing on said ice – bad idea as my foot went through the ice and I ended up with a wet boot! The stone is visible from the road crossing the common although it is quite hard to spot as it tends to blend in with the side of the hill.

Visited 12.12.10
Easy to spot from the road going across Gelligaer Common – just head for the trig point.
The cairn is quite large, about 15 metres in diameter and 1 metre high. In the centre is a stone lined cist and a large oval capstone – moved to one side. The cist was full of snow so only the top edges could be seen. Apparently the cist was robbed about 300 years ago. The remains of urns and burnt bones were found along with a beaker, flint tools and a bronze dagger. The cairn is dated to about 2000 – 1450BC.
About 25 metres north of Carn Y Bugail is another smaller cairn about 5 metres across and 0.5 metres high. The capstone is quite large, being about 1 metre x 1.5 metres. There were 3 sides of the cist visible – also full of snow.
Unfortunately there is a Trig point slap bank in the middle of the cairn and to make matters worse, it looks like the site is being used as some sort of unofficial scrap yard! There were bits of car, smashed windscreen, bits of metalwork and a large sack full of dismantled kitchen units! Why do these people do this? Why drag all this rubbish up the side of a hill when it would be much easier to dump it next to the road? Even better of course would be to take it to the council dump! Such a shame.

Visited 16.12.10
After two weeks on paternity leave (and all that entails!) I had an hour or two ‘window of opportunity’ to get out of the house and stretch the legs. I therefore decided to make the short 7 mile trip to re-visit my nearest Hillfort. Just as well I chose that day to visit as the following day I awoke to nearly a foot of snow! There has been a few letters recently in the local paper by campaigners trying to stop development of the area around the Hillfort – more power to them!
This Hillfort is easy enough to access but finding it in the first place is a bit tricky.
If you are travelling north east off the Culverhouse Cross roundabout into central Cardiff you will see a sign to the right for the Ely Distribution Centre (there is no sign coming the other way). Turn right and keep an eye out on your right for the turning into Church Road. Once on Church Road look out for a Post Office and Greenmont GP surgery on your left. Just a bit further on you will see a rather run down children’s play area on your right, on a slope above the road – park here.
Follow the tarmac path which runs up past the play area and up to the trees. You will then see a car bonnet nailed to a tree with a sign on it which states ‘Private – no bikers, metal detectors or guns’ – I kid you not! All you then need to do is follow the short but steep muddy path up through the trees and you soon arrive at the ramparts of the Hillfort.
There are surprisingly decent views from the top and a rather sad, derelict church ruins. The graveyard is completely overgrown and much neglected – great shame.
Around the northern side of the Hillfort is a double ditch/rampart with a smaller central enclosure with banks approximately 2 metres high in places.
The sky by now was grey and brooding and starting to rain so I cut my visit short and headed home. After all, I did promise Karen I wouldn’t be out too long as I am sure she could do with some help with Dafydd and now little Sophie.

Tried to visit 25.4.10.
I failed on this one I am afraid to report.
Judging by the O/S map the stone appears to be fairly close to the lane at the south of it. So I followed the signs for Stackpole Centre and turned right, down the rough track leading to the farm. The O/S map shows that the track turns right at the farm and runs past the farm. However, the track now stops just past the farm buildings and there was no one about to ask permission. There were plenty of cows about who appeared to be waiting to be milked? As I had the baby with me I didn’t want to risk a sneak visit so attepmted to view the stone from any of the surroundings lanes. Unfortunately I could not see the stone despite several attempts.
If I was on my own I would have approached the stone via the path through the woods to the west. There is a small passing place you could park at near the woods. Good luck!

Visited 11 August 2010 via a short bus-ride from Ludlow to Farden and then a walk up to the hill. This is the part of the country I grew up in, the Clee dominating the view from the garden I played in as a kid. The radar station, marked by large white “dinosaur eggs”, was a source of childhood interest from the RAF jets roaring supersonically overhead, trying to get below the radar. I remember coming up here in summer, aged about 9, for a picnic that was memorable only for being so windy that we all stayed in the car. In later years I came up with my Dad, as he tried (largely unsuccessfully) to encourage me to follow in his trials-riding footsteps in steep-sided quarry pits. But it’s been a long time now since I last came here and I’ve never been to look at the hillfort and cairns.

The wind of that far-off picnic isn’t in evidence today, replaced by warm August sunshine and a gentle breeze. Approaching the hill up the road from the SW, the first thing that becomes apparent is the scale of scarring caused to the hill by quarrying. The two cairns are already visible from here, right on the edge of the quarry workings. The line of hillfort ramparts that would have encircled the hill here is gone however. Most of the quarrying itself is now gone, although some smaller scale workings still continue off the hilltop itself away to the south. The quarrying has left the hill as a series of terraces, and it is up these that the road zigzags before reaching a car park and signpost for the Shropshire Way long distance path. This in turn continues as a rougher track up onto the hilltop next to the station. Following the edge of the unnatural cliff round takes me to the two cairns.

The first cairn is a low, flat-topped mound of sizeable diameter but little height. Some stones are visible around its perimeter, perhaps the remains of a kerb. The second cairn, to the NW, is better preserved but has been damaged by an OS trig mounted on its mound. Rather more depressingly, a walker’s shelter of stone blocks has been built into the lee of the cairn. I suspect this has used either material from the cairn itself or from the hillfort rampart, the remaining sections of which are constructed from such blocks. Part of the rampart, escaping destruction by quarrying, can be seen on the slope below the cairn.

The views that have now opened out to the south are extensive, to say the least. The proximity of this place to my childhood has already dug into a buried vein of memories and the way these views link my past to the landscapes of my present, gives me an almost overwhelming sense of euphoria. To the southeast there’s the spine of the Malverns, further south the unmistakable tree-topped May Hill that is visible from so many Cotswold viewpoints, and over to the southwest the Black Mountains’ northern escarpment fills a chunk of the horizon. Most excitingly, just visible as a light blue shape further still to the southwest, are the twin summits of Pen y Fan and Corn Du. The jigsaw of my little world is laid out before me.

Carrying on past the NW cairn, a rocky outcrop at the western end of the hill, known as the Giant’s Chair, forms the highest point (and the third highest in Shropshire at 533m). Looking to the north, the neighbouring Brown Clee comes into view, also crowned by an Iron Age settlement. To the northwest, the ridge of the Long Mynd, another place of childhood memories, lies invitingly close. And Mid-Wales is beyond, fading into the blue.

The rampart of the fort, on its northern side, is interesting. Unlike most Marches hillforts, this rampart is formed from a ribbon of dolerite (I think) blocks. Think Chun Castle and you’d not be far off construction-wise, although this rampart surrounds a much larger area. I suspect that much has been robbed away so that only a low bank remains. The main aspect of the defence in truth is the natural slope of the hill. The wind is keener here and I make my way back to the cairns and take in that wonderful view again.

At length I head off, pausing to have a quick look at Yellowmead SE cairn. Doughnut-shaped from digging, there’s not a great deal left of this cairn to see, although it must have been a pretty fair size when built. The Yellowmead circles are not visible from it.

The walk from here to the circles is longer than it looks, dropping down into boggier, then muddier, ground. I pass an uninterested group of wild horses, then a rather more nosey herd of cattle, before reaching the circles themselves. I have them to myself, despite the large number of people I can see on Gutter Tor away to the south.

According to Burl, this site was heavily restored in the 1920s by the Rev. Breton. There has been much speculation about it since, including the possibility that it is actually the remains of a round cairn, which would not be out of the question when compared with the construction of the terminal ring cairns at nearby Drizzlecombe. There are a host of features to look at here. Slightly uphill to the ENE, the remains of a much smaller cairn circle overlook the main site. The visible stones of this are small, little more than stumps breaking clear of the cropped grass. In the opposite direction, downhill and the west of the circles, are the remains of a short avenue. A possible continuation extends over the other side of a nearby leat. Again these are small stones, size-wise comparable with the stones of the avenues at Cerrig Duon in South Wales.

The real draw is of course the four circles themselves. Not quite concentric, only two share the same centre and only one (the central) is a true circle. The outermost circle contains the biggest stones, especially to the SE. Even so, none of the stones is over five feet tall and there are a lot of smaller stones in between. The next two rings are comprised of much smaller stones. The central circle is beautifully constructed, the stones virtually touching on the southern arc, making a closed ring surrounding a central space with a diameter a little less than 22 feet. If there was a central cairn, it is gone.

The nearby Tors dominate the landscape of the circles, particularly Sheeps Tor to the NW. The position suggests very strongly that these surrounding features were of paramount importance in the siting of the monument, for it has no extensive views or commanding altitude of its own. Like many of the stone circles of England (West Cornwall and The Peaks, as well as nearby Brisworthy), the presence of a nearby rocky hilltop seems likely to have had significance to the builders.

I spend an hour or so here, watching another band of black rain cloud approach over Sheeps Tor, but passing on its way without delivering its cargo at Yellowmead. It is very peaceful, not a soul comes this way while I’m here. This little site enthralls me. I have no idea whether it is true to its original layout or a restorer’s fantasy. I’m not sure it matters at all. Like Belas Knapp, in my opinion we are richer in having it restored in this way, than we would be if it was left as found in the 1920s.