Latest Fieldnotes

The next village reached is Sheepstor, little more than a hamlet really, with a square-towered granite church and medieval cross at its centre and a quintessential Dartmoor leat running along the roadside. Of interest is an old well-head, standing outside the eastern wall of the churchyard. Constructed of bits of gothic tracery, the water in the well itself is clear.

No need for guerilla tactics here. Permission can be obtained from the Glan Usk estate offices, just the other side of the river. Then it’s just a short walk along the river bank. Well worth the effort.

The Tingwall mound is in the form of a figure-of-eight or else two mounds of disparate sizes have been joined together, the larger and more mutilated at the west end and the smaller at the east by the farm. Using the 1st O.S. to look at the brochs from Dishero to Burgar you find the broch depicted as not quite circular except for the east end of this mound where its circle is a geometric circle. Which seemed strange. Then I had reason to ponder whether the sluice behind had been made using stones from the broch and the light went on – the sluice makes the burn behind a millstream and so this is a strong candidate for being a mill mound. Which isn’t to say that it had no prior use [unless the mound had been constructed specifically for the mill]. The early map isn’t as detailed as that for Dishero, showing a bank occupying the inside of the west circle’s western half and orthostats on the south periphery (seven shown).
On a modern-day aerial view [192.com IIRC] this is generally confirmed, with little appearing at the east quadrant and the stones part of the plant-covered ditch obscuring it from a roadside view. The view from above shows the large irregular pit seen roadside as coming from the south edge of the circle, a little right of centre, up to the broch tower marks with a small circle where it contacts. There are several pits inside the broch tower area. These are probably from antiquarian investigations. To my mind these would post-date the 1880 survey or more detail would be shown on the 1st O.S. (like Dishero). The photo shows a circular ditch on the west side and inside this the broch tower wall in the W-N quadrant with what appears to be an out-turning at the north end, perhaps a gateway or the east side of an external cell. I imagine the ditch to be is connected to the substantial rampart fragment referred to in the NMRS. Virtually nothing can be seen at the east side of the broch circle over or from there to the mill-mound.
All of the foregoing I learned after this particular visit. Coming from the harbour I first came to the eastern end. Looked across this end from the east it is the south side that has been touched by man, at the base on the left what appears to be a low bank across this end, then an apparently manufactured curve to the top and an equally low rise or foundation from whose north side the mound slopes gradually down seemingly naturally. To the right of the ‘foundation’ you can see the top of the broch in the distance. Along the side facing the road a few stones of different sizes are exposed, though truth to tell if they have a pattern it is a line rather than a curve. Even in winter the gouge of a ditch cutting in front of the west end and up into this end of the mound like a stairway to heaven is heavily fringed with dock. Exposed in the cut above are a mix of small thin slabs and blocks. All are still where placed by man, but only in one spot are you priveleged to see a tiny section of plain to see walling. This horizontal block with a slab coming onto it I had previously believed to be part of a small passage entrance but later close inspection reveals a vertical surface behind and below the slab, probably one block and part of another – it feels different from the rest and I would like to think this is the outer face of the broch tower wall.
Up at the crossroads the west end presents the multiple levels now familiar from Dishero. After entering the field I am about halfway to the mound when to my surprise I see a deep ditch cut into the ground by this end just beyond a sharp bend in the burn, and the broch sits on the other side. Up on the mound the bank/s on this end are easier to see. From the top it is more obvious how regular the east end is and there may be another bank between. Spot another interesting thing to my left as I look past a pit to the mound (or top of the mound)’s edge, a broad but very shallow concave curve and what might be slight bumps at either end. Could this be an entranceway ? And if so to the broch or something else ?? I was also surprised by how far back the big ‘hole’ at the south side was from the central broch tump. Beneath the plants at the bottom are some larger stones/slabs. Not sure if these are in situ or whether part of flooring if so. On the west side are fewer stones but there is that ‘wall’. On the east side there is more of a continuity though after several metres it does broaden out suddenly, might be another chamber or whatever. Further down near the lip of the ‘hole’ on this side is something definitely different, a saw-edged orthostat (just visible from the road with magnification) with its face towards me. More like a tomb than broch – though it is considered that this is not a ‘greenfield site’, however the arrow is considered to run forward to Viking times rather from the IA back. Lastly I walked over the the other end down a shallow slope, still above ground level, then up more steeply. Nothing to add to my first observation about the seaward end.

The further we drop, the steeper the climb up Moel Arthur starts to look. By the time we get to the parking area between the two hills, it’s clear that there will be a pretty sharp uphill to come, and so it proves. But it’s the last climb of the day and the ground levels out a little before it reaches the fort. A track leads off The Path to the fort itself, at which point G/F decides to stop while I go for an explore.

This is a lovely fort, roughly circular and surrounded by multiple lines of banks and ditches in the style that characterises these Clwydian forts. Once into the fort’s interior, the views open out on all sides, taking in Moel Famau to the south, Penycloddiau to the north and the extensive vale of Clwyd to the west. At its highest point (456m) the fort is higher than its northern neighbour. A quick tour of the concentric heather-clad ramparts reveals a very steep drop away to the south, making this small, compact fort a much more defensible proposition than the much larger site to the north. Unlike its neighbour though, there’s no obvious water supply within the fort itself – perhaps the North Walian rain provided enough!

Once we hit the 300m mark, the climb becomes less steep and it’s a steady climb up to the northern ramparts of the fort, via a couple of false crests. Green grass gives way to purple heather as we approach. The multiple lines of defence are immediately apparent, in what would have been a pretty off-putting sight to any would-be attackers. One of the ditches is deep and sufficiently intact to be filled with a scummy green “moat” (presumably not an original feature?).

Having crossed four lines of defensive banks, we emerge into the fort interior, where a rather immaculate cairn greets us. I assume (mistakenly) that it’s modern as it’s not marked on the map, but a post-trip check of Coflein reveals it to be a genuine, albeit heavily restored, Bronze Age cairn. It marks the highest point of the fort, at around 440m above sea level.

The wind here is pretty fierce, making for a fairly inhospitable stop and we don’t hang around very long before electing to take the eastern rampart of the fort. I have the usual delusions of doing a complete circuit, but this is a big fort! From its northern end, the eastern rampart sets off in an impressive triple-line of banks, with a sharp drop away to the east beyond (the drop on the west side of the fort is much steeper though). Moel Famau, highest point in the Clwydian Range, looms into view to the south, but we won’t be getting near that today.

The rampart steadily drops away from the northern end of the fort and just before the halfway point the triple banks end, presumably at what would have been an entrance. South of here the rampart drops further and is marked by a single (still impressive) rampart. The nearest neighbouring fort, Moel Arthur, is now in sight, its height comparable with our own. We eventually reach the southern end of the fort, and walk a little way along the (very windy) western rampart before rejoining The Path as it starts its descent from the hill.

From here the much bigger hills of Moel y Parc and Penycloddiau become visible to the south, setting the scene for the walk ahead. I scoot off-Path temporarily to have a look at the barrows on the hilltop, but they’re over fences and not much more than low, grassy mounds, so I don’t make too much effort and we’re soon back on our way.

From where I parked the car near Pen y Gaer the small mountain takes on a pyramidal shape, a footpath leads from the road straight up to the top, but seeing as I went to the hillfort first I had to climb a couple of fences untill the path and me crossed paths. On the way up I followed a samll stream thin enough to step over, but big enough to be teaming with fish at least 6inches long, species unknown, salmon or trout probably.
Half way up the slope I came across a circle of stones, not a stone circle and too small for a hut circle or shelter. Strange.
As I neared the top the weather did what it does best, it didnt rain, oh no, that would be too heavy handed, the clouds came in and the views that I so love faded away, mountains are like that, they want to be appreciated they want to be adored but they don’t want it to be easy for you, they only rarely show themselves completely
like a shy yet demanding stripper.

The first cairn arrived at didnt look ancient but more like a walkers cairn to show that your at the top, but it has the best view down the Ogwen valley.
The second cairn is the real McCoy, it almost shuns the view back into the mountains and concentrates on gazing out to sea or perhaps more probable onto Anglesey, always the most special of megalithic locations in Wales.
The cairn has been converted into a walkers shelter, I dont know if this is proper, but, I started to try and make it look more like a cairn again, just a half hearted attempt for half an hour, the spirits may have looked kindly upon me as I swear the cloud looked to be thinning and the sky had a more blue colour.
The second big cairn has also been shelterized so I gave it another half hour reconstruction, not so anyone would notice, but atleast there were no more precariously placed boulders threatening to fall on an unconcerned shelterer.
By the time I reached the last cairn in the line the mist was really dispersing, and I felt my endeavours at reconstruction were appreciated.
This cairn is the biggest one here, so big that it contains three walkers shelters, and one breakaway shin high shelter. The bigger hills come into view out of the mist Gyrn to the north-east and behind that Moel Wnion, but Gyrn Wigau and Drosgl remain stubbornly hidden.
I only gave the shelters a cursory pushing in and as I sat down to appreciate the views opening before me a final large rock fell just 10 inches onto my little finger, it didnt break but it was a right mess, luckily my extremities were freezing so it didnt bleed much. Time to start back, by that I mean another walk along the ridge this time in sunshine and then down the slope to the other cairns and the fortified settlement above Rachub.
It was still a small price to pay for the clouds to part for me and the mountains show themselves to me.
Gladman was right, they are worthy of a visit in the own right, and then some.

From the first big cairn on Moel Faban I slipped and scrambled down the slope, heading for the first big boulder on level ground, from there I could see the cairn even half covered in the cold white stuff.
It’s not as big as the three on the hilltop, but it has at some time been hollowed out, though maybe not by scardy walkers as youd have to lie down in it to be protected from the elements.
Did the cairns builders feel the occupant of the grave was not worthy somehow of not being buried on the hilltop, there’s still plenty of room up there but for some reason they put it at the foot of the hill. Perhaps they knew that if they put it up there it would be hidden in the clouds half the time hiding the view from the occupants spirit or hampering it’s construction.
Either way the place is fantastic, views extend over Anglesey and up the Ogwen into Snowdonia proper, and with Moel Faban rising immediately to the west you can almost forgive the Welsh for over mining the mountains for slate.
But only almost, the huge scars left by them are unforgiveable.

This stone was originally on the Hill Of Barra but was moved to a position near the B9170 on the Inverurie side of Oldmeldrum. Shaped like a seat Robert The Bruce, handily feeling ill at the time, is supposed to have sat on it whilst his troops battled against the Earl Of Buchan. Today it is still a busy place as Oldmeldrum and Inverurie have grown in size making sure this road is incredibly busy.

Visited 10/12/2010.

High above Bethesda is this small, less than impressive hillfort, but its position overlooking the entrance to the Ogwen valley is inspired, with the low low clouds and snow in Snowdonia there aren’t many better sited hillforts.
Parking available on Cilfoden Terrace and Tan y Foel (they may be one and the same) to the south east of the settlement, I’d streetviewed the place already so knew what to look for and when I got there I knew I was there.
The hillock on which the fort sits is high above the valley floor to the west but on the east side it keeps on rising all the way up to the pyramidal Moel Faban, with its quad of cairns. All the way round the fort is a modern wall that makes it difficult to see the earthwork, a gate echoes the old fort entrance, but the only traffic these days is of the sheep variety, indeed the whole fort is being reused as a big sheep pen.
The only way to appreciate it is from slightly above, looking over it down the Ogwen valley, on your way up the hill note the hut circle, but don’t tarry long it’s only medieval. (only he says)

Another fine long barrow which was a lovely surprise for me today, I totally have my Cotswold Walking friend to to thank for this. Had just visited Sodbury Camp hillfort and visited this longbarrow, which was comparatively close by near the village of Luckington, on our way home.

Rhiannon’s fieldnote has it covered – a fine long barrow in an elevated position; looked peaceful in the long shadows of winter afternoon sunlight. No evidence of restoration to this one and no English Heritage information boards – just the remains of a chambered long barrow. Large moss covered limestones at the centre of the barrow and – curiously (as Rhiannon pointed out) about five neatly stacked limestones to one side of the barrow. Perhaps some reconstruction work planned for the future – would now doubt preserve barrow for prosterity though in its present natrualised state it has loads of ‘ancient’ atmosphere.

Pleasant day after the bitterly cold spell (a positively balmy seven degrees) today I met with my Cotswold Walking friend. We headed to south Gloucestshire via the village of Sherston then on to Old Sodbury on the Cotswold Way.
There is a clearly way-marked track up to the hill-fort; snow and ice thawing fast though ground still hard, quite slippy in places.
A pair of ravens flew overhead as we drew close to the hill-fort which I believe is quite rare to see in this part of the world. Our visit was spontaneous so I knew nothing in advance about Sodbury Camp hillfort – when reading up on it before writing this fieldnote I came across this passage – copied from the Northstoke Blog:

(Quote)
It is an amazing place, the ground is as flat as a pancake, 24 acres (according to Nicholas Thomas’s Guide to Prehistoric England) he describes it thus;

“Its outer bank and ditch are iron age; the earthworks at the S.W. end enclosing 12 acres are probably Roman. In places the inner (Roman) bank is 10 foot high. Original entrance to the I/A camp is approached by a track up the escarpment along the N.W.side of the camp (the one already described). It enters just S.W. of the N. corner of the pre-Roman earthwork; here there are in-turned banks defining it. Date of pre-Roman earthwork; 3rd to 2nd century B.C. Traces of earthwork to the N belong to deserted medieval village” (Unquote) Very helpful notes – thanks Moss.

We initially walked around the outer bank until coming upon a group of horses from a nearby smallholding. Somewhat deterred by two large barky guarddogs and a fence across the outer ditch we moved back to the inner bank. Spotted a couple of large mature yews on the sides of the inner banks – seemed unusual for a hillfort – usually hawthorn and blackthorn are predominant bushes.

I really enjoyed this visit – a manageble short walk from Old Sodbury which was just what I needed – last time I was out, slipped on a stile (bruised leg, jarred neck) its easy to get out of the habit of walking to ancient sites.

Not going to go on about this place too much as it’s one of my favourite places and it was one of my first megalithic trips , suffice to say I love it.
I love the passageway and the chamber stones, especially the menhir, I love the solar alignments and the stone of the enigma’s albeit a fake one but it is now looking more aged than my first time.
There has been much talk of a spiral in side the chamber, but it is very indistinct and in my opinion it may not be a bonafide example of rockart. However the cupmarks on the nearby Gorsedd are distinct and easy to find, once you know they’re there.
Brinkly doo as I know it is a sweetheart of mine anyone found messing with her will feel my wrath. (no really)

The Gorsedd is seperated from the burial chamber by a thick wall and hedge, to get to it climb over the enclosure fence through the gate over two fences and a stream, probably a bit too much for some visitors but a wander around and over the outcrop is I’d say essential. Like Iron man says it’s a good place to sit and watch the burial mound.
How I missed all the cupmarks on my first visit I don’t know, perhaps it was all the cows gathering around the rock like a crowd at a sermon, or perhaps you just don’t see what you don’t know is there.
The cupmarks are on the highest part of the Gorsedd, in two groups, an arc of three cups and two metres away at least six more, five of which were in a definite pattern (to me they looked like they formed a sword type shape) with a few more thrown in seemingly at random here and there. Or were they?

About two hundred metres WNW of the burial chamber is this tall pointy stone, about nine feet tall with terrific views south and east. Farmer has piled up lots of big boulders around the stone, maybe he’s protecting the stone from itchy sheep, I don’t know.
I came at it cross country, over a fence, a gate, 2 fences and a stream over the gorsedd, a fence a road and two more fences, it didnt add much to the arrival at the stone, so probably best to walk down the road a bit, and its two fields in.
The standing stone I think is called Llandaniel Fab menhir, calling it “standing stone near something else” detracts somewhat from the serious venture of erecting such a big stone.
It is in perfect alignment with the Gorsedd and the burial chamber, from here the chamber is behind the outcrop, but from Brinkly doo its only in view whilst standing on top of the mound.

Strange one, this.... although Danbury Camp overlooks the ‘Sunday walking’ route I’ve undertaken for the best part of two decades – when not otherwise engaged somewhere else in these Isles, of course – I’ve only actually visited the site upon a couple of occasions.

I guess the most obvious reason for this is the paucity of visible prehistoric remains. Or at least of the kind that didn’t need digging up by your friendly local archeaologist. There are no impressive, free standing ramparts left to walk around, or sit upon looking south-westwards towards Hanningfield Reservoir... just a few, barely identifiable remnants of tree-cloaked earthwork running from north-west to south-west backing onto residents’ gardens... I think. Hey, even the information panel by the church entrance has rotted away to oblivion. However this is not to say that this former Iron Age enclosure is empty. Oh no. Far from it. The 13th Century church of St. John the Baptist is the most obvious Johnny-come-lately (ha!) with attendant graveyard and garden allotments providing a rather peculiar juxtaposition of ‘life and death’, if the truth be told. A water tank/tower and, last and definately least, a large antennae add to the general confusion.

Today only a few locals taking shortcuts break the silence and disturb the pristine white blanket of snow.... seeing as the expected multitude of children sledging down the hillside are simply nowhere to be seen. What is it with kids nowadays? Yeah, in conditions such as this the old hillfort still retains echoes of its ancient past, if somewhat uncomfortably in the literal shadow of such an impressive Christian edifice.

I retrace my steps back down to road by The Cricketer’s Arms and continue on my way – without pausing to sample anything, you understand. The landscape can look no better than it does today under this brilliant winter sun slowly sinking to the horizon, trees a firey combination of orange and red, the fields a mantle of glistening white. As I cut through Danbury Lakes on the way back to the car, the sun’s rays reflecting off the frozen water and silhouetting a moorhen standing somewhat confused mid-lake, I’m suddenly chuffed to bits that Danbury Camp is still clinging to existance upon the overlooking hill. The nearby ‘palace’ may be a conference centre now, but somehow the ancient hillfort adds a sense of substantiality to being here. Funny, isn’t it?

To be honest I wasn’t expecting much from Caer Caradog, not having swotted up beforehand, or anything. So it comes as a pleasant surprise when, having taken the very obscure right hand turn from the B5105 east of Cerrigydrudion – yes, that one of Cope fame – I park at the entrance to Pen-y-Gaer farm to see somewhat impressive earthworks enclosing the hilltop to the north. Needless to say the mist and low cloud, which had earlier put paid to any thoughts of high level outings on the way back to Essex, serves to add a quite literal cloak of mystery to the site. Never a bad thing, I find. Unless you’re climbing a mountain, in which case it is. Very much so.

Anyway... a public footpath heads north to pass the enclosure a little to the east... however seeing the gate unlocked, I decide upon a direct approach. In retrospect the footpath’s probably the better bet as I end up having to step over some unseen barbed wire cunningly protecting a gap in the dry stone wall. Ha! That’ll get the tourists.... not that any tourist is likely to come here in a million years, I’d have thought?

It is immediately apparent that my first impressions were correct (for once) – the ramparts, particularly towards the east, are quite substantial, albeit patrolled by sheep in lieu of ancient warriors. Sheep who abandon their posts and flee as soon as I approach. Not very good substitutes, then. It would also seem that they are destructive little blighters, too, judging by notable damage to the fabric of the banks... however this does provide the opportunity to see, in cross section, how the defences were actually constructed. Walking the enceinte, two gaunt trees add their haunting profiles to the site, already very evocative because of the swirling mist. However this gradually dissipates to reveal a fine vista in all directions, in particular across Cerrigydrudion to the Central Snowdonian mountains, the latter still swathed in opaque vapour. Yeah, Caer Caradog is well sited, no doubt about that and pretty difficult to assault in its day, I reckon. As long as it wasn’t defended by sheep.

An appropriate way to end a fine week in North Wales. I leave thinking “what the hell is that big boulder in the eastern ditch there for?” Any ideas? A slingshot ‘slung’ by one of those giants the Welsh are so fond of? Now I think we’re getting into the realms of fantasy here, Jones......

Tyrrau Mawr, presenting an almost unfeasibly beautiful facade (Craig Las) to visitors to the Llynnau Cregennen situated above Arthog, stands towards the western end of the great mountain ridge that is Cadair Idris. Reaching 2,168ft, it is significantly lower than Pen-y-Gadair, Cadair Idris’s summit peak at 2,928ft; nevertheless it is arguably a better all round viewpoint – strange as that may sound – and very possibly one of the finest in all Wales, in my humble opinion.

There’s something else, too. Something which has haunted me (in a ‘nice’ way, you understand) for the past couple of years. Yeah, something in the form of several large, Bronze Age funerary cairns set upon Carnedd Lwyd, a rocky outcrop well placed upon Tyrrau Mawr’s eastern shoulder. Dismissed as ‘quarrying’ during my last visit way back in 1994 – in my defence the cairns aren’t all that obvious from the ridge to the north (!!) – a return visit was therefore long overdue. Having said that, you can’t just ‘book’ an appointment to see high mountain sites as you would others, a fact made only too clear by an obscuring mantle of cloud which greets my arrival at Ty Nant today.... I make a judgement call and decide it will (hopefully!) peel away in an hour or so and consequently set off up the Pony Path towards Rhiw Gwredydd [there is an expensive official ‘pay and display’ carpark here, or some very limited roadside parking options if you’re early enough. I am]. The early stages of the walk feature some excellent, cascading streams beneath foliage, well worth the trip in itself, to be honest. However as I gain height the landscape becomes much more open, more brutal... hell, even desolate. Cyfrwy and the main summits of Cadair Idris tower above to my left, my ‘holy grail’ crowning the ridge crest to my right, with the hillfort of Pared-y-cefn-hir far right. I leave a group of young climbers at the bwlch (pass) with a few words of encouragement for their summit attempt – right on, lads – veering right myself to follow the remnants of a dry stone wall towards Tyrrau Mawr’s top at a much more modest altitude.

Although the cairns stand before and below the summit, I can’t recommend an extension to the crest of Craig Las highly enough. Really, I can’t... if only for excellent views of a number of other prehistoric monuments in the locality... the aforementioned Pared-y-cefn-hir; the two Hafotty-fach cairns below to the west; Craig-y-Llyn and its funerary cairn; the Arthog stones, with the site of Cerrig Arthur across the exquisite Afon Mawddach; The Tarrens to the south; Arans to the east.... and last but not least, the exceptional view of Carnedd Lwyd itself set below the summit peaks of Cadair Idris, surely one of the finest of any prehistoric site in Wales? But then I’m clearly smitten by what’s on offer here. And biased. Hey, check it out for yourself.

Anyway, where was I? Ahh, yes. Carnedd Lwyd. Approaching from Craig Las, following a sudden, violent hammering by a fast moving weather front, with returning cloud engulfing all – which, I have to admit, catches me napping – I ascend the crags to find the two northern-most cairns are far more substantial than appeared to be the case from above. The eastern – although somewhat ‘hollowed out’ – is a fine monument, completely dominated by the bulk of the rise to Cyfrwy and Pen-y-Gadair, mist still swirling around the summit peak. There seems (to my eyes) to be a definite correlation between mountain summit and cairn, the latter in awe of the former and sited in an appropriately subservient manner. The western of the pair is better preservered and supports a wooden pole which... er... accidentally falls down when I touch it. Strange, that. To the south, a wire fence stands before another small crag with – I think – two more, smaller cairns in situ. I check my watch. I’m already at the optimum departing time for a safe descent. But this place is so evocative I decide to push my luck and take it to the wire. Yeah, the relationship between cairns and mountainside is truly compelling. In short, I think I ‘get it’, understand for once. Hell, it was worth the sixteen year wait. Eventually I simply have to leave, or else see whether the legend of either becoming a poet or madman by spending a night upon Cadair Idris is just legend. Despite another weather front I make the car before dark. Just.

After a suitable lunch at the nearby Bognie Arms I walked back along the A97 to Yonder Bognie farm, jumped a couple of fences and made it to the circle. Abeit I was waist deep in snow. I’ve been here many times before but today it was extra quiet, extra beautiful and much more atmospheric. It was almost if the circle was at peace with itself almost enjoying the silence. All due to the weather and the A97 being devoid of traffic.

Visited 4/12/2010.

Some 5 miles west from Turriff on the B9025 Aberchirder road is the north road to Crannabogs. Today it was blocked so I decided to brave the elements. It was well worthwhile the views towards Turriff, north to Banff, south to Bennachie and west to the Highlands being covered in a stunning blanket of white. From the junction I walked/waded to Crannabogs Farm. Look north and the mound can be spotted on the crest of Gallows Hill, the boundary between Marnoch and Forglen. Normally the mound is over ten meters wide, 1 meter high and has a ditch dug out on one side. Today it looked complete and sparkling in its important position. Whoever Tam was I don’t know but a nearby wood, near Burreldales four poster, is also named after him.

However the weather had the final say, all of a sudden it started to blizzard and the wind picked up causing more depth and drifts. Eventually I made it back to car thankful for snow sticks, waterproofs and Tjj’s advice, the Long Johns indeed kept me warm!

Visited 4/12/2010.

With only hours to go before the plane for Blighty took off, there was just enough time to track down this collapsed but still magnificent portal tomb.
Or so I thought, no help would be coming from one of Julians books, which meant it was time to break out the fourwinds. I tried to follow his directions, with only a road map to aid us, but it took ages to find the right golf course, I think it may have changed its name, either way its the golf club that is off the R105, through the big impressive gateway, past the castle and into the club carpark. From there on his instructions were spot on. Skirt round the right hand side of the Golf shop and follow the path. I’ll just add turn right at the NO FLOWER PICKING sign.
I had no idea the path through the woods at the bottom of Muck rock would be so pretty, even at the end of autumn, but it was very nice, old twisted Yew trees, giant ferns and Rhodadenrons with the tinkling sound of a small stream, then the giant capstone looms up as you turn a corner, I didn’t expect it to be soooo big.
The tomb is wrecked, the capstone fallen or slid backwards away from the portal stones, these three stones are all that is left of a similar tomb in N. Wales, when I first saw them I couldnt work out how it would have looked, I found out long ago, but this is the first time I could see them with my own eyes, hmmmm and ohhhh.
For reasons known only to its builders the tomb faces not to any sunrise or sunset, nor was the moon involved either (S’far as I know)it was aimed right at the rocky cliffs of Muck rock. I had the pleasure of looking down on the whole peninsula as we flew into Dublin airport, the place is an ancient magnet, a big sticky out bit with a big rocky central hill, an obvious place for the local people to attach legend to.
But it had taken too long get here, and my visit was cut unceramoniously short by the missus on the old textaroo, is there any more painful way to leave a site.
No.

Following a somewhat illuminating time – in the metaphysical sense, you understand – at the Nant-y-Llys and Pen-y-Gwryd cairns, Bryn-y-Castell hillfort beckons... well, there are several hours to spare before darkness... and it’s been on the ‘list’ for a long time now. Too long, in fact, despite a very dodgy evening weather forecast. Unlike Postman, I approach via Betws-y-coed and the Machno Valley, the drive up Cwm Hafodyredwydd (take care) and across the brutal Migneint a perennial favourite shortcut, what with the funerary cairn-topped Arenigs crowning the south-eastern horizon... a real sense of ‘I don’t know what’ pervading through the open car window. Joining the B4391 to Ffestiniog, a short, if exceptionally vertiginious drive above Cwm Cynfal (nice waterfall, by the way... but stop before you look!!) leads past a car park to a minor road on the left. Wishing to approach on foot, I park upon the verge just before this and take the public footpath (signposted) across the road.

Passing through a gate, a track leads towards a copse of trees and walled courtyard, beyond which a craggy hill rises. I climb this for a great initial view of the hillfort I’ve come to see to the north-east... and my first indication that the forecast of ‘deteriorating conditions’ was no fallacy. In a short while I attain the ramparts of a nicely compact little fortress, the walls – except where apparently somewhat reconstructed – little more that footings, but the siting is such that this is of small consequence. Yeah, the attuned psyche can easilly add the missing pieces of the jigsaw in a place such as this and visualise what once stood here. Not just gaunt, drystone walls, but the human element which built and occupied them, too. What a place to live on one of those glorious Snowdonian days when the light is the match of any Shakespearian sonnet, what with Manod Mawr presenting an exquisite facade to the north, and Moelwyns Mawr and Bach offsetting a glorious coastal view to the approx south-west!

But on a day like today.... with sudden weather fronts sweeping in from the aforementioned coast to literally blow me off my feet? Thoughts turn to how hardy the inhabitants must really have been and how humble I feel (trying to stand) here against the onslaught. Eventually it is too much, even properly equipped for such conditions, and I seek the lee of the north-eastern walls to ponder awhile. Perhaps it is at times like this when the door of the past can be coaxed ajar... if only a little. Dunno.... are there distant, repressed folk memories which are released only in such situations? Perhaps, perhaps not. Whatever the truth, I cannot leave until darkness leaves me no choice.

As the name suggests this big cist (not a dolmen)is to be found in Dublin zoo, they also have Amur tigers and snow leopards, sad to see them this way but try and see them in the wild.
From the entrance of the zoo turn right and the cist is in the Tapir and mara prison, behind the ice cream kiosk, it was cold, we didnt have an ice cream.
The chamber is generally hidden out of view behind a small shrubby tree and the back of the kiosk, the only ones who can see it are the zookeepers and i’ll bet even they don’t know it’s an ancient relic, and the mara’s of course.
The stones are all an unpretty mudstone and were moved here from Pheonix park where there is still another cist.

Another stone circle we left out of our last Irish trip, and boy do I regret it, we only saw Athgreaney last time and missed out on this little wonder, it is a gem of a site.
Really easy to find, and intimate parking for one, with a short sheep stared stroll to the stone “henge” circle. The two big quartz stones that guard the entance are extremely pretty, and have since topped my list of stone circle stones ( dont mean it Callanish ), theyre the best stones in stone circlery, the rest of it is good too.
In the middle of the circle lye six stones, which I half fancied as an interior six stone circle a bit like at Lissy vigeen, (is that the right name) but it was only a fancy.
After going to King Arthurs hall a couple of months previously they both seemed very similar, in feel anyway, obviously ones round and ones rectangular, but still similar.
If I could change some things though, I’d get rid of the farm and the overhead cables and pylons, or move the whole magical site somewhere more remote, which evers easiest, seeing as its a nice place the farm will have to go.

Visited 28.11.10
Directions: drive through Portskewett (heading east) and take the turning on the left signposted Leechpool. The barrow is about 100 yards on your left, behind a house. Easy to spot on the hilltop. Parking is on the grass verge as best you can.
My previous visit to this site was with Dafydd a couple of years ago when I stopped in the lane to give him his bottle/change his nappy. This time I was alone so a more thorough visit was possible! Parking near the spot I stopped last time, I noticed a public footpath sign and a new(ish) looking wooden gate which looked like the top had been gnawed by the horses housed in the field. Although technically speaking the footpath doesn’t go to the Long Barrow it goes close enough not to worry about it.
Despite all the snow we had had in Cardiff the night before I was surprised that there was no snow here, although it was bitterly cold with the wing coming in from the river Severn. I walked up to the largest stone and viewed out across the Severn. Although not a particularly high point, it was surprising how commanding the view was. The largest stone is about 5 ft high with the square shaped stone next to it about 2 ft high. I was pleasantly surprised by how well preserved the small stones (all about 1.5 feet high) forming the rear of the chamber were. I would have liked to have stayed a lot longer but the icy wind cut right through you and it was time to leave the horses to their peace.
This is a site well worth making the effort to see when in the area.
Access is very easy – 2 minute walk from the lane via the wooden gate.