Latest Fieldnotes

Visited 28.11.10
I pass this site twice a day, driving back and fore to work. Every day driving home I quickly glance up and see the stones through the seasons, in all kinds of weather and in kinds of lighting – it is surprising how different they can appear. I had planned to make a proper visit for a long time and at last, today was the day! I chose a Sunday as I thought it would be easier to park in the industrial site car park and to my delight the place was deserted (I suppose the artic weather conditions helped!)
Walking up the farm track to the left of the car park you soon cross over the motorway and immediately afterwards there is a gap in the fence to the left. (At this point a Land Rover came down the track and I thought ‘here we go’ but they just drove on) Through the gap in the fence and a brisk walk through the knee height snow across the field heading towards the trees. The chamber is visible from this point. You then have to clamber over a barbed wire fence, through the trees and up to the stones. This may sound like a bit of a hike but it is only a 10 minute walk from the car park.
This is the first time I have (I think) visited a site in the snow and it is surprising how much difference it makes. To coin a phrase the snow lay ‘deep and crisp and even’ and it was a lovely sight to see the dark stones sticking out above the white snow.
I counted 6 large stones and several sticking out of the grass/snow. The traffic from the quieter than usual M4 whizzed past nearby but it did not detract from the moment. The sky was blue, the snow was glistening in the sunlight and I had the place to myself – wonderful. It wasn’t too long before the cold set in (it was well below zero) and I gave each stone a pat before bidding my farewells. As I was returning across the field about 20 cows came running across – they obviously have better hearing than me as soon after a tractor arrived with a huge bale of hay. At this point I darted back into the trees to retrace my steps – I don’t think the farmer saw me?
I returned home so glad that I decided to go out for a couple of hours despite the snow. It really does give a different feeling to a site. One I would highly recommend.

Marked upon the map simply as ‘cairn’, this is in fact a much more substantial monument than that basic categorisation would indicate. Hell yeah! Set above Pen-y-Gwryd, with its hotel (which incidentally acted as the training base for the first successful ascent of Everest), Llyn (Lockwood) and Roman camp (the usual thing), this monument appears to be much more of a long cairn than that above Nant-y-Llys approx half a mile to the south.

It is from the Nant-y-Llys cairn that I approach, my intrigued nature having got the better of me as I enjoyed the vibe there, buffetted by the fierce wind and frequent squalls. The Snowdon Massif is quite literally overpowering if the approach is made from this direction, the deep bogs worthy of Ireland, my new Gortex boots somehow passing the ultimate test. Passing to the right of a small, rocky hill, the size and exquisite siting of the cairn is suddenly all too apparent... and welcome. Dyffryn Mymbyr stretches away to the east, the two dry stone walls indicating the postion of the larger cairn-circle just visible before the Llynnau Mymbyr, Carnedd Moel Siabod rising majestically above to the right. To the approx north the raging outflow of Llyn Cwmffynnon leads the gaze up to the most brutal, austere mountains you could ever wish to see... Glyder Fach and Glyder Fach, the rock formations of Castell y Gwynt (literally ‘castle of the winds’) to this observer seemingly evoking every emotion the Welsh landscape and language can convey... all in one searingly evocative skyline profile. Which leaves Yr Wyddfa itself.... except it refuses an audience, leaving Y Lliwedd and Crib Goch to crown the western skyline alone. They deputise admirably for the moody one.

The site in fact consists of two stone piles, a much smaller sibling standing beside the much larger monument to the south-west, although in all probability two were once one, so to speak... judging by the trench which runs the length of the large cairn – I mean, where did those stones go to? Whatever the truth, the volume of cairn material remains relatively impressive, the monument by all accounts sited to overlook Dyffryn Mymbyr and – as with the nearby Nant-y-Llys – not focussed upon The Snowdon Massif. Hmm. Please, please tell me now. Is there something I should know? Probably. But it escapes me. Was Yr Wyddfa too important to be directly viewed?

There’s an old saying, isn’t there?... ‘can’t see the wood for the trees’... Yeah, although this won’t often apply to the uplands of Snowdonia – where the odd, gnarled hawthorn or wind-blasted mountain ash are the only trees you’re likely to encounter – substitute ‘the cairns for the rocks’ and I reckon you’ve got the equivalent phrase for the locality. I mean, prior to Postman’s Coflein deliberations, I certainly never contemplated that the ‘cairns’ marked on the 1:25k map above Nantgwynant were more than simple walkers’ or marker cairns set amongst glacial residue? We live and learn, I guess, it then being rude not to include the Nant-y-Llys and the nearby Pen-y-Gwryd monuments upon the Gladman ‘bad weather list’. And with a forecast like today’s ‘severe gale force winds and driving rain’, the list is (eventually) retrieved from under the car seat. Ah, Nant-y-Llys it is, then.

Of all the roadside vistas of the Snowdon Massif, perhaps the most ‘intense’ is paradoxically the easiest to enjoy... that from the tourist viewpoint on the A498 to the east. Park here with the punters and – if Mother Nature lets you – you’ll not only see Yr Wyddfa and its cohorts soaring far above, a rather attractive power station (it’s true!), but also a prehistoric settlement nestling down in the valley below. As you do. What isn’t apparent, however, is what lies above to the north-east, unseen. The first challenge is to open the car door in the none too subtle wind, then, having duly negotiated a gate, stagger steeply uphill in the general direction of an archetypical, gnarled hawthorn. I know how you feel, my friend.... The retrospective down Nantgwynant towards Llyn Gwynant today is perhaps not an image for the North Wales Tourist Board, but is nonetheless worth the price of admission alone for its brutal, yet somehow wistful intensity. Not sure that makes sense, but sometimes it’s difficult to articulate, you know? And, needless to say, the view of Snowdon itself would have blown me away, metaphorically speaking, if the conditions hadn’t already done so in a much more tangible manner. The hillside is seriously boggy, so I’m more that happy to arrive upon what appears to be a fabulous long cairn... only to realise there are several other similar features nearby, complete with apparent covering cairn. Damn! Glacial deposits, no doubt. What a muppet.

But then, there it is, a little distance below to my right. A definate, substantial cairn, although somewhat robbed internally. Tell me about it. Trouble is it appears to be very much a typical Bronze Age funerary cairn... that is ‘round’.... and not a long cairn. I could be wrong, I guess. But, checking the map, this is the spot all right. Perhaps significantly, the cairn is located on the north-eastern shoulder of a slope overlooking the Nant-y-Llys (stream) and appears to have been deliberately sited so as not to have The Snowdon Massif as its primary focus. Intruiguing. Aye, that is is. A fine, wild spot indeed.

Despite the conditions – or probably because of the conditions, if the truth be told – I would have stayed much longer if another ‘cairn’ hadn’t have been indicated on the map some way to the north...... Ha! These cairns are certainly more-ish. One is never enough, is it? Bit like Jaffa Cakes.

A number of people have reported trouble in finding and getting to the site.
I have made a google map to the site which comes in from the back way via Clydach Vale. This avoids any interaction with the tip or the farm and is a nice walk in my opinion
The map can be found here

goo.gl/maps/pnom

November 18th was our 10th wedding anniversary and my wife treated us to a weekend in Dublin, hire car and all, so after the promise of a shopping spree on Connell street (Aaaaagh nightmare) we headed south to look for a couple of stone circles that we’d neglected on our last trip to Irelandia.
First we sought the circle of Broadleas, with nowt more than a road atlas and half remembered directions from the Megalithic European.
Needless to say I got it wrong and couldnt find it, so I did what any postman would do and looked for help at the post office, they didn’t know but the bloke that owned the rest of the shop knew where it was, though he said he’d never been to the stones himself. He got me there almost perfectly, I drove past it once but on the way back it was large and obvious, and room to park next to it by a gate.
The circle is a really good one, some stones are missing to be sure but those that are left are really big boulders, white and shining in the morning scattered sunlight.
One stone left on its own has been cracked right down the middle by a holly tree, the southern arc is overshadowed by small trees and on the opposite side by one big mature tree, the circle is sited on a perhaps artificially leveled platform or even on a raised hillock, either way an overall picture of the circle is difficult without me good old step ladders.

From the A481, near Fedw stone cirlce, take the farm track southeast past Rhewey farm and keep going up the hill, the track happily takes us straight to the stone row.
But the stone row isnt mentioned on the map just the big barrow next to it, Coflein and Burl know of it though, so it is thanks to them that I do too.
It is probably best to walk up past the farm, not only to better appreciate your situation, but farm dogs will bark and chase the car and the farmer will get in his pickup and drive up to see what your up to. I told him I was just photographing the stones and barrow on this beautiful morning, he asked if I was from Cadw or something, I replied no, just an interested Joe Public, this seemed to satisfy him as he bid me good moring after pointing out this is a bridleway not meant for cars.
I continued photographing the stones, there are four of them, the biggest stone has fallen but you can see that if it were re-erected the four stones would line up with the left flank of the barrow, which is of a cosiderable enough size for a visit on it’s own.
The row is situated on a shoulder between two hills, on the north side of the hill goes down on into the valley of the A481, but the other side is a low wide glacial valley leading the eye further into the Welsh wild hills, one day I shall be more like Gladman and venture off into those hills, or some like it.

There is room to park at the western end of the hill, from there proceed more or less directly to the top and this will take you through the entrance to the fort.
When we first arrived here the hill was invisible behind its secretive curtain of fog, but after our revisit to Gelli hill the fort was popping in and out of existence, floating mysteriously on thin veils of mist.
Eric took some coaxing up the hill but after a little bit of reverse psychology, and a few rest breaks to take in the scenery, which also popped in and out of our reality, we made it to the entrance, which if i’m honest hasn’t fared too well over the last two millenia. Nor are the banks and ditches that impressive, sometimes grassed over and in other places the tumbled walls have scattered themselves down the hill in a wide spread.
There are no earthworks on the steeper northern slope, and a small modern cairn marks the top of the hill, presumably for folk that can’t tell when there at the top.
So it isnt one of the best hillforts in Wales, but as ever it was a treat to be out in the Welsh wilds wlth my son and time to spend in the hills, the weather which had so hampered us earlier now made it all the better, a view would open up and morning glow would fill the void, then close and open up elsewhere, we were shown the view slowly peice by peice.
It is a bit cold though, time for some grub, and away we go.

Visited 28.11.10
I wasn’t actually planning on visiting this site but as I was passing on my way home (and it was such a beautiful day) I decided to take a chance and see if I could get access. The freezing weather meant the country lanes had quite a lot of ice across them and driving had to be done very carefully. I parked along the ‘main’ country lane (near the West Lodge building) and walked down the private road to the left handily signposted Druidstone. You soon come to the Druidstone Manor House on the right and just a bit further down there is a sort of small cul-de-sac. You will then see a gate marked ‘Private – no entry’ and just beyond the stone itself. As the gate was already open I saw no problem in wandering over to touch the stone.
It is funny how your memory can play tricks with you, the stone wasn’t the same shape how I remembered it. I thought it was more tear shaped but in fact it is more squarish – about 8 ft high and 5 ft wide at the base, slightly narrower towards the top. The whole stone itself was covered in a thin veil of green moss.
Another highlight of my visit was the walk to the stone itself. The private drive went through a small wooded area and the recent snow had meant all the branches were weighed down with snow. With the blue sky, sun shining, glistening snow it was on of those times when it makes you feel good to be alive. Very, very pretty and I am so glad I decided to stop off on the way home.

Visited 28.11.10
When I first visited this site a couple of years ago I was quite new to ‘old stoning’ and didn’t feel comfortable walking uninvited into someone’s field. However, those days are long gone and I now happily walked through the (already open) field gate, across the bone hard frozen mud and the 100 yards or so to the stone. With temperatures down to minus 10 overnight it was a bitterly cold day but beautiful nonetheless. Dark blue skies with white frost covered grass and all the puddles frozen over.
The stone itself is about 6ft high and was covered in pretty yellow lichen. As I felt how cold the stone was I became aware of the strange situation I found myself in. Behind me the sun was shining brightly, to my left a half moon still clearly visible against the dark blue sky and to my right two aeroplanes high in the sky, glistening in the sunlight. It made me ponder how much things had changed over the last few thousand years and yet this stone remains. I wonder what other changes this stone will witness over the years to come?

Well worth a visit but access would be very muddy in warmer weather!

After stepping through the fence next to the circle we walked rather blindly into the fog with no more than my memory to go on, it was adequate, we went straight to it, first it was my imagination , then it was a sheep, Eric said its a tractor, it wasn’t, it was the fallen stone. It looks like a big door wedge or block of cheese, with lots of smaller stones about it.
If it was standing it wouldnt be much more than a couple of feet tall, but from the circle it might have been edge on and a perfect horizon marker.

I awake to one of those typical North Walian mornings, cloud obscuring Moel Siabod as I poke my head outside – or rather stumble from – the battered old tent. What’s the weather gonna do? Dunno. But something I can’t explain is pulling me towards Cadair Idris.... only to find the mountain also deep under cloud upon approaching Dolgellau. So, improvised Plan B it is, then.... an obscure chambered cairn said to sit above the Afon y Dolau Gwynion near Llyn Efyrnwy (Lake Vyrnwy).... Except as I proceed up Cwm Hirnant, beyond Rhos-y-gwaliau, the sheer beauty of the landscape gets the better of me and I’ve gotta walk. Here. Right now. Plan C, then, in the form of an ascent of Foel y Geifr, an unassuming 2,053ft moorland peak – if ‘peak’ is actually the right word – rising to the immediate west of the summit of Hirnant Pass. Hooray. A decision at last.

To be honest it’s not much of a plan since the ascent is short... and not so much sweet as an annoying slog through deep heather and bog. Nevertheless the summit, crowned by an attractive OS trig pillar adorned with equally attractive lichen, is quickly attained. However it’s what lies beneath the trig pillar which is of greater interest, a relatively significant stoney mound – albeit grassed over – with several small blocks of quartzite apparently placed upon it with purpose. And it seems our friends at Coflein have already thought of what I was thinking, so to speak. Here we have another Bronze Age funerary cairn, no less.

I go for an excellent walk northwards to overlook Cwm Hirnant itself from Foel Goch. Sadly no more prehistoric cairns to report near to hand, although take your pick from the horizon for many other distant locations (Garnedd Wen, Arenigs, Foel-Cwm-Sian-Lwyd, Arans, Berwyns etc). Needless to say, a violent front moves down the valley giving me a bit of a pasting, but the atmosphere, upon returning to Foel y Geifr, is all one could wish for. Yeah, this high moorland sandwiched between Y Berwyn and The Arans won’t be to everyone’s taste, I guess. Paths are at an absolute premium, the going underfoot difficult, to say the least. ‘Intimate’ may well be an appropriate adjective... nevertheless the vibe is sufficient to delay my return to the car until the onset of dark. The Afon y Dolau Gwynion cairn will have to wait for another day now. I’m sure it can cope with the disappointment....

The journey here had been full of ideal photographic conditions, but once we had driven up the old track, the fog closed in and stayed there.
The first time I came I found the shouldnt be there circle first, which confused me greatly when I found the actual circle on the way back down, further musing and reading (with sweetcheats help) have proved that the less impressive of the two is the real macoy, whilst I was there the first time I could see the fallen stone from the circle and that should have said something to me but it didnt, the circle on top of the hill had thrown a big spanner in the works, dont know why it just did.
But this second time I knew where everything was, even in the fog. Up to the trig pointed barrow first, over the dilapidated fence to the confusion circle. Still dont know what to make of it, if it was farmer, I would say he has been to a few real carn circles, if it was missed by ordnance survey and CADW and Aubrey Burl then , well its just unthinkable.
The stone circle is right next to a fence, which should help with locating it, if you were a “hillwalker” you might walk right through it without noticing it. The stones are small, some flush with the ground, two or three a foot or so high, two bigger fallen stones there are, one inside the circle one outside In the next field there is a fallen menhir, perhaps marking a festivals sunrise, Burl said as much I think, memory not as good as it once was.

The weather had been perfect on the way here, blue skies and golden morning sunlight and fog covered the valley floor between the hills, but it was only just the way there, there was as foggy as you don’t want it to be. No sunrise and no view, it was just Eric, me and the the foggy ancient left behinds.
The barrow is much bigger than it looked from a distance through the fog, some exposed cairn material has a couple of big stones in it, and I liked to think of them as remnant cist stones.
Erics feet are starting to get wet now so were off to find the weird shouldn’t be there circle.

Ah, the ‘Slippery Hill of the Witch’. Hasn’t that just got to be a contender for best name ever? Although at 2,622ft it can hardly be called a hill... unless you’re a Scot, that is, in which case even the incomparable Black Cuillin are ‘hills’....

I last visited the summit cairn of Pen Llithrig y Wrach almost exactly four years ago, approaching from the south near Bron Heulog. This is perhaps the preferred way up, since it gives the traveller ample opportunity to take a look at several other monuments en route. Unfortunately, however, thick cloud and atrocious conditions moved in whilst I was but half way up back then. Hey, these things happen in the hills, sorry, mountains of Snowdonia. Don’t they just? To be honest I had no intention of having another look today, my mind set upon a tentative ascent of the Creigiau Gleision opposite, a wary eye upon the cloud base. However, upon arriving and parking at the Llyn Cowlyd dam, following a drive up what might possibly be – in places – the steepest public road in all Wales (seriously) from Trefriw, improving conditions prompt a snap decision. Let’s go see the old witch again, then.

So, leaving a couple of workmen actually working – yeah, I know, it freaked me out, too – upon the dam (demonstrating that hopefully we’ve learnt our lesson from the catastrophic failure of the Llyn Eigau dam in 1925...) I head westwards to ascend the long north-eastern ridge of the mountain. At the crest there is a sort of path, although diversions to view the aforementioned Llyn Eigiau render my approach to the summit a trackless, boggy, heathery slog. Never mind, since the views across Cwm Eigau to Carnedd Llewelyn and the central peaks of The Carneddau are sublime. A final grassy scramble and there is the summit cairn... clear of cloud this time around.

As with most North Walian Bronze Age summit funerary cairns, the construction of this ‘un – low, earthfast, with overlying supplementary modern additions – will not blow you away in itself. However the positionning, towering above the forbidding, black jewel of the Llyn Cowlyd reservoir, with the ‘grey-green crags’ of Creigiau Gleision shimmering beyond, is truly breathtaking. The 3000 footers of The Carneddau sit beyond Pen-yr-Helgi-Du (peak of the black hunting dog) to the approx north-west, mostly crowned by their own Bronze Age monuments, whilst the incomparable Tryfan dominates Ogwen to the west, despite being in the company of numerous other serious mountains. There can be only one Tryfan, cairnless, but surmounted by its unique pair of stone sentinels. Shafts of light pierce the increasingly dark cloudbase above Moel Siabod to shine a myriad spotlights upon Dyffryn Mymbyr, scene of yesterday’s visit. Then, to the north beyond Llyn Eigiau, I pick out the one and only Tal-y-Fan, the hillfort Pen-y-Gaer and Drum, site of yet another funerary cairn. Needless to say many other monuments remain unseen at this range. Is there anywhere they didn’t go, these people?

The weather begins to deteriorate, the light also. Several used flare cannisters are a prescient warning. Time to leave, then. As I approach Cwm Cowlyd, vicious hailstone fronts beginning to sweep across the reservoir, I notice one (perhaps more?) possible hut circles/disturbed cairn-circles. Not sure.

themodernantiquarian.com/site/13517/cwm_cowlyd.html

Needless to say, darkness approaches.. and time has run out, the prevailing conditions now not the best.. and I’ve still got to negotiate the road back to Trefriw. Luckily the access gate, despite appearances to the contrary, has not been locked before me. It is a relief. Or perhaps the old witch took pity and sorted it for me?

Driving westwards through Dyffryn Mymbyr the gaze of the traveller will inexorably focus upon Yr Wyddfa and its companions .... the Snowdon Massif, no less. Some things are just meant to be, I guess, particularly when looking across the Llynnau Mymbyr. In fact – if I didn’t know better – I’d swear the Glyderau and Moel Siabod, forming the northern and southern flanks of the valley respectively, intentionally present their least inspiring sides so as to not detract from the majesty of the vista. Hence two short, yet substantial sections of dry stone walling, set within rough pasture a little west of the entrance driveway to Cwm-clorad-isaf farm, will barely register.... under normal circumstances. And what about an apparent Bronze Age cairn circle? Ha! But of course there is no such thing as ‘normal circumstances’ when you happen to enjoy seeking out ancient monuments in landscapes such as this.

Following an earlier severe ‘working over’ by Mother Nature at nearby Cefn Glas, conditions have, if anything, deteriorated even further, the temptation to thus stay in the warm and dry of the car fleeting, but nevertheless real. Access to the site isn’t the easiest today, what with barbed wire fences and expensive waterproofs being mutually exclusive and all that. I settle for a rickety gate fastened with the ubiquitous ‘farmer’s string’ beside a large roadside stone enclosure. As Postie mentions, the cairn lays before the far section of dry stone wall and overlooks a bend in the Nant Gwryd – perhaps significantly so. Sheep look at me with that trademark combination of fear and incomprehension whilst sheltering in the lee of the drystone walls. Well, what else did you think they were for? The bulk of Moel Siabod towers above to the south-east, unseen, morphing with the descending cloud... ditto the Gylderau across the valley. And as for Snowdon.... forget it! So, I’m not here for the views, then. What about the cairn? Why haven’t I been here before? Why are these places so bleedin’ marvellous? Why all these questions? Yeah, just enjoy the moment.

The cairn-circle is still in pretty good nick, it has to be said, incorporating a fine, open cist with two long side panels, one covered with moss.... and several kerb stones. Very organic. Not to mention a little confusing, too, since additional arcs of apparent kerbing would suggest Coflein are on the right track by citing an earlier platform cairn beneath the monument. Unfortunately the surrounding reeds make it difficult to be precise. So I sit and contemplate things we possibly don’t have the capacity to contemplate – I speak for myself, of course – as conditions deteriorate even further... but, hey, how good is this? I stay until darkness compels me to leave. Paradoxically I feel unnerved by the severity of the weather only when safely back in the car. Hmm. Then again if a pitch black Llanberis Pass doesn’t have the capacity to overawe, what does?

At the south end of the Gorseness road is the sign for the Rendall Doocot. Follow the signs to this and the Knowe of Dishero ‘mound enclosure’ can be seen on the coast from the track that runs from the Hall of Rendall to the South Ettit graveyard [the slabs by a water trough are froman empty cist excavated in 1969]. The site has a new fence around it and no easy access evident – if there had been more time I would have snuck under as there looks to be no ground-level wire. Coming from the end facing the 1738 kiryard I can make out one big broad stone about halfway up that looks to be in a depression I think lies just outside the broch tower. On the side facing the old manse is a broad ditch that seems quite deep and heads for the cliff-edge. It is from this direction that you can make out the various levels i.e. the ditch, the outer broch, and the broch tower [possibly a fourth can be made out]. From here through the clifftop undergrowth you can see what looks to be a mix betwen a sea-wall and a structure back against the cliff, age unknown.

I visited this site a couple of years ago. I parked on the grass verge of the road which runs across Gelligaer Common and headed straight uphill towards the trig point. The things I remember most about my visit oddly enough is that a ‘tramp’ was living in a self made tent right next to the cairn and I found a pair of pink lacy knickers on one of the stones! I also remember that it was raining with a cold, biting wind. My CADW magazine states that this is ‘one of the most spectacular Bronze Age sites in South Wales’ and who am I to argue? I was planning a return visit this weekend but that plan fell foul of the weather – fog to be precise. I will report back with a more detailed site description when I next get chance to visit Gelligaer Common.

‘Visited’ 20.11.10
As a member of CADW I receive magazines 3 times per year which are pretty good and always have something of interest to read. In the summer edition this year there was a four page guide for a 2 hour walking tour of Gelligaer Common. I pulled the guide out and kept it for a future day out. Well, that day was today.
Getting up early I set out and arrived at the recommended car park (SO105031) by 9.00am. Then I noticed the problem. Thick fog had blanketed the entire common – a real ‘pea souper’. I couldn’t see more than 20 yards in front of me. Unperturbed I set out, guide and compass in hand to search for the first stop, a ring cairn. Described as being ‘splendid’ dating to around 2000 -1450 BC and being ‘a turfed-over bank about 15 metres across’. Despite spending nearly half an hour looking for the ring cairn I couldn’t find a thing – no doubt I was close to it but couldn’t see it in the swirling mist and fog. In the end I gave up and returned home, feeling as miserable as the weather.
Next time I visit I will make sure it’s a clear day to avoid future frustrations!

Ive not been to many places round the world but this one is up there with Samaria gorge, Mont Blanc and Australian old rainforest, its that good.
We arrived early, but after taking a couple of wrong turns, not early enough, two other cars had spewed its occupants across the carpark and another had pulled up a few isles down, we payed the money grabbing ticket monster and headed off into the autumnal woods in the direction of the smartie tube ?
We came here a few years ago but Eric was too young to remember, he was too young to clamber freely then, this place is a childs dream come true and an over protective parents worst nightmare, but with only one to care for at this time we roamed as freely as the wind. Eric was almost beside himself with excitement he wanted to climb them all but there are still some that we didnt dare try.
Along the edge of the rocks is a platform with a big rocking stone on it, the first time I sat on it, it gave me a scare when it moved as if it would continue rolling down the cliff with me still on it. I climbed atop and gave it the old Elvis the pelvis whilst Eric photographed my rock n rolling.
We tried to get up onto every rock stack because I knew there was another rocking stone on one somewhere, but in these later years rediculous vertigo has gotten me and I’m as scared as an eight year old boy, but in the end we did get upon top of one and from there I could see the neighbouring rock had what looked like three in a row, Tsk!
The autumn leaves and early morning glow may have added to the experience somewhat, but it was just magical, for about an hour or so, then the place started to fill up with people, some with more monkey powers than me, after a while every rock stack had its person point on top, like roving anarak wearing trig points.
It became what I thought was a reasonable time to return to the car, then found out that four hours had flown by, we never did see the smartie tube or maybe we did but didnt know a smartie tube when we saw one. Off to Foutains Abbey now, never been before, is it any good?

From the northwest henge driving southish a track is on the other side of the road and map says it goes straight to the central henge, we plumped for the shortcut, because thats the way I am. I really should mend my ways, the track doesnt go all the way but degenerates into something like a footpath, it was really difficult reversing over rough ground encased in brambles. But when I did turn round I could see we’d got within a hundred yards of the henge so me Eric and maggie scampered over and climbed over the fence .
The henge is stunningly impressive, if it was on its own I would still have come here but three in a row is just stupifying. The henge is higher in places than others by the southeast entrance the bank has so eroded that a barrow like structure appears at the entrance. It had been a long day and the sun was low in the sky, it would be dark before we were half way home, we left the henge to the fearful sheep and monument destroying rabbits.

Untill now I’d only been to the other two henges which are both easy to see and get to as theres a carpark between them. This northern henge has no carpark though there is room for a couple of cars at the side of the road but a few no parking signs deter this, not me though.

This was a good vibe place for me though, a tarzy hung over the henge bank and occupied Eric for the whole time, Maggie the Jack Russell kept reacting to something only she could detect, and more than half my photos came out blurry, adding to the mystery of the place very muchly. As if the trees and age of the thing weren’t enough. The henge was bigger and better preserved than I’d thought they’d be, a perambulance will pass by both entrances and the henge will reveal itself to you in good time.

I’ve heard a lot about the Blowing Stone over the years, saw for the first time today. Wysefool and Rhiannon’s entries under folk-lore are well worth a read, I won’t duplicate them. For a small donation (towards the maintenance of the church in Kingston Lisle) you can pick up a leaflet by L.V. Grinsell (1993) which tells you everything you may need to know about the Blowing Stone. Most of it is included in previous fieldnotes and folklore entries.

Leaflet does say that stone is not officially classed as an ancient monument and is therefore not shown on OS maps in Old English lettering. Grinsell says the interest in the stone is botanical and geological rather than archaeological.

Leaflet is in itself a little gem – worth stopping by to see stone and pick up a leaflet.

These stones are easy to find as long as you have an OS map and can read it whilst driving, I can, which is why Ive been here twice now, but unfortunately not to the Stripple stones henge located on the south flank of Hawks Tor, it looks a fair old yomp from the Trippet stones here past the farm and up the hill, i’ll definately be back, my day on Bodmin has been wild, strenuous, wet, enlightening and sometimes scary.

As I approached the stones I heard a noise behind me, upon turning I saw a big red pickup truck and farmer, the cynic in me groaned.
But it shouldn’t have for the red faced rotund agrarian was not only a comedic genius but a life lesson all in himself, we talked of the stones themselves, the government, new agers and of course the weather, after twice using my lighter to relight his gnarled roll up he coaxed the old truck back into life and bid me good day, I watched him drive away whilst removing my camera from it’s bag, I thought to myself something had just happened, something to remember. The stones as ever are widely spaced, grey, tall and shapely, the two nearby tors are Carbilly and Hawks and both need you to clamber over and explore every rock and crevice, but the star of the day was either King Arthur’s hall or the old farmer chappie.

Sometimes it rains in Snowdonia. No, really, it does. But there’s rain, and then there’s proper North Walian rain, the sort which appears to defy Newton’s laws by rising straight out of the ground... Needless to say today features very much the latter. Time to delve into the ‘bad weather list’, then.

All this water (apparently) falling from the skies does have some benefits, however. Apart from being the fountain of all life on Earth – a small point – I would be very surprised if any traveller could gaze down at the foaming Afon Llugwy from Pont Cyfyng and not utter an involuntary ‘I say, that’s rather splendid’. OK, perhaps that’s a little self censored, but this is a family web-site after all. And there’s more where that came from.... park just south of the bridge and walk back down the road to the old chapel and you’ll locate a rocky track (public footpath) climbing the wooded hillside beside several cascading streams. I follow this and eventually emerge from the trees onto the open moor... and into the full fury of the weather. Hell, the conditions are truly atrocious, but, to be fair, even I can’t exactly get lost here. Although whether I’m following a track or stream bed is perhaps a moot point. Crossing a crossroads – as you do – (the right hand track is private, leading to a quarry, according to a sign daubed in white paint on a boulder) my own quarry, the large Bronze Age cairns of Cefn Glas, are soon visible to the left, beyond a stile.

The setting, clearly wild and uncompromising on the best of days, is positively ‘otherworldly’ this morning. Assuming it is morning. Hard to tell, what with the mist. Of Moel Siabod there is no sign, just a wall of swirling vapour to the east, from whence horizontal shafts of water slam into my back without pause. Which might have been a downer if the cairns had have been rubbish. Luckily they are not. Oh no... Of the pair, the southern monument is by far the larger and more impressive, utilising the slope of the landscape to great effect and boasting a well preserved, albeit open, cist, one side panel of which has collapsed into the horizontal plane. The northern cairn is smaller and somewhat trashed in comparison, yet also contains a surviving cist, home to a rather annoyed frog. I assume the annoyance is with me and not the very ‘frog-friendly’ conditions. Luckily for him I’m not French and make do with some rather soggy chicken tikka thingies for lunch. Curiously there is a large glacial erratic beside this cairn. Whether this influenced the siting of the monument or not we’ll clearly never know.

To be honest I found these ‘Blue Ridge’ cairns a treat to visit. With Moel Siabod rising above on a clear day to add that extra dimension, they may well blow you away, metaphorically speaking, without having to endure such extreme conditions. Then again it’s hard to have a more ‘authentic’ Snowdonian experience than today. Incidentally the map shows hut circles some way to the north of the cairns. Huh, perhaps I mistook them for ponds.....

Inspired by Chance’s fieldnotes and his recent mention of the Woolstone wellsprings (OS: SU296872)
in a comment on Dragon Hill, I persuaded my walking friend back up to Uffington Hill today. A frosty, bright, morning as we made our towards Uffington Castle; today, however, the mission was to reach the woodland at the horse-shoe bend on the road below. We climbed over a stile into the tussocky grass and slowly followed the sheep paths down the hill. Going was surprising tricky, with the wet grass quite slippy – we made it to the bottom of the hill and over the road to the wooded area where we walked along the side of the road to gain access to the wood.

The view of Dragon Hill and Uffington White Horse hill is spectacular from here. Very much a ‘first’ experience for me – Uffington Hill forms a massive amphitheatre with Dragon Hill positioned within it, though to one side rather than the centre. Several springs emerge in the small woodland at the foot of the hill, it is easy to visualise that there may have been a ceremonial aspect attributed to this landscape.

With some difficulty, we scrambled through the wood, over the streams and up the bank on the other side – coming out on private farmland.
A stop for lunch at the White Horse Inn in Woolstone before we followed the waymarked ‘circular walk’ path back up to the Ridgeway.

Wonderful wildlife, a roe deer, frantic fast moving squirrels (clearly not used to people), a flock of fieldfares, buzzards, two herons in flight and best of all – as we reached Uffington Castle, two red kites flew overhead. At one point on the ramparts of the hillfort a red kite flew across our line of vision before gliding down to the woodland where we had scrambled about a few hours earlier.