Latest Fieldnotes

I’d already been to King Arthurs hall and Leaze stone circle, and as this one was only a 10 minute drive I just had to come, even though I had no idea which one it was.
I was able to park the car really close, which is always nice, and as I approached it felt like Christmas, “Yeeesss”! I said “it’s Stannon.”
A large ring of many many low stones, how many I don’t know I got a quarter way round lost count and gave up....there’s lots.
Never saw another soul all the while I was here, unless ponies count, they might do in there spare time when no-ones watching.
Upon leaving the stones i went past the car and jumped the fence and stream and climbed up the china clay pit earthwork to look down upon the old stones, it was good place to sit, the moor stretches off into the mist and over my shoulder rugged and craggy Roughtor winks at me through the low clouds, and asks why don’t you climb me. No time thats why.

A virtually cloudless dawn – tent and car once again caked in ice and Moel Siabod sitting pretty in pink on the skyline – prompts a snap decision to reacquaint myself with the Bronze Age funerary cairns that crown the 2,565ft summit of Moel Hebog... here we go again......

The ‘Hill of the Hawk’ is a fine mountain presenting a distinctive wedge shaped profile when viewed towering above and to the south west of the tourism orientated, yet nonetheless attractive village of Beddgelert. The legend pertaining to Prince Llewelyn’s dog, Gelert, needn’t detain us further, the settlement almost certainly name-checking an early christian linked to the local ruined priory. Hey, but that was only yesterday! For immediately to the north the town is overlooked by Dinas, a flat-topped hillfort, whilst the iconic Dinas Emrys rises above Llyn Dinas a little way to the north-east. You’ve no doubt guessed that the word ‘Dinas’ refers to a fort or stronghold....

The usual route taken by those who wish to ascend Moel Hebog begins in town, where there is a large, albeit expensive, pay and display car park (limited roadside parking is available for those on a budget if you arrive early enough – ha!). After crossing the railway line – incidentally running recently restored steam engines – via a bridge, I follow the public footpath, through woodland glistening with frost, to veer right along a track to the isolated farmsteads within Cwm Cloch. Here the mountain rises in an awesome, majestic display of raw power to the south-west, its profile accentuated by a sky of unprecedented blue. Although the onward path is obvious, the angle is very steep, so it’s just as well the retrospective view grows progressively more magnificent in scope with every step... just for starters check out the prehistoric monuments on display – the two aforementioned hillforts, a distant Carnedd Moel Siabod and, just across the valley, Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) herself... Nice. Sure, it’s a struggle, particularly the last section of unstable scree [please bear this in mind if you are not familiar with such potentially dangerous features] until a pair of modern (I think) marker cairns signify the final stretch, the be-cairned Nantlle Ridge announcing it’s presence beyond a similarly blessed Moel-yr-Ogof, a ferociously biting wind doing likewise.

And there they are. Four, possibly five, small Bronze age cairns crowning the summit plateau before the rather dilapidated OS triangulation pillar. Two are reasonably sized, but by no means large .... and certainly nothing to trouble my Citizen Cairn’d stock of construction eulogies. The others are even smaller, so it’s not really surprising they didn’t really register from my last visit here in the mid-90’s. Sit a-while, however, and it soon becomes apparent that here we have a small Bronze Age cemetery commanding one of the most awesome all-round panoramas you could possibly wish for! Yeah, these people sure knew what they were doing. If you’re looking for eternity, here ‘tis. The multiple-cairned Nantlle Ridge completely dominates proceedings to north-west, Criccieth Castle upon it rock, Tre’r Ceiri and the glistening Lleyn to the west, Southern Snowdonia to the... er... south, not forgetting the mountains of Central Snowdonia to the north-east. Hillforts, dolmens, chambered cairns, Bronze Age cairns.... hell, prehistory wherever you look, all set amongst a landscape of the highest quality.

OK, the Moel Hebog cemetery is a modest one in terms of construction. Perhaps that’s being somewhat generous, even? But make the not inconsiderable effort to come here and I think you’ll leave more emotionally enriched than when you arrived. Which, when you think about it, is not a bad return in this modern world full of bland ‘experiences’ and computer generated fantasy. Give me the real deal any day. Even if it did all but freeze the wotsits off me!

According to my ancient log books, my only previous visit to Drosgl was way back on 28/6/94 during one of those mammoth mountain treks I used to do in those days... yeah, right. That was then, but this is now. However a chance discovery of an archive print suddenly put a return back on the agenda. To be honest I wish it hadn’t, but what can you do? So, with ‘mammoth mountain treks’ clearly not an option, an approach from Bethesda, via Gyrn Wigau seemed the best bet in order to avoid humiliating failure...... sure, no-one would know, but you can’t fool yourself, can you?

I wake before dawn, the tent and car encased in a thick carapace of ice and promising a fine day. Right on!... now where’s that de-icer? In the garage. Doh! Anyway, with care it is possible to park in Gerlan, the community perched above Bethesda, a stereotypical ‘slate town’ at the northern end of Nant Ffrancon. From here, passing a bunkhouse and derelict Spar, a named minor road leads to Ciltwllan, a small cluster of houses, beyond which tarmac reverts to rough track. Even in the early stages the scenery is dramatic, Carnedd Dafydd – one of Wales’ premier mountains – dominating the skyline to the right. Nice. At a large sheep enclosure an ancient iron gate allows access to the open, grassy flanks of Gyrn Wigau which rise to the north east. A couple of stiles assist the traveller across dry stone walls until the freedom of the hills is yours! Yeah, a minor, but obvious sheeptrack-cum-path then leads the way up the ridge towards Gyrn Wigau’s craggy summit – an excellent viewpoint, particularly looking towards the coast to Moel Wnion and Moel Faban’s cairns and related prehistoric settlements. Not to mention Ynys Mon – Anglesey itself – lying in splendid isolation across The Menai Straits. Note also a further settlement below Gyrn Wigau’s southern flanks within Cwm Caseg.... Hmm. All may be silent now in this unfashionable corner of The Carneddau, but clearly this was once far from the case.

Eventually, however, the eyes are drawn further up the ridge to an apparently small cairn upon the next summit, that of 2,484ft Drosgl. Moving on, a well made track swings in from the left heading towards the spiky, castellated crags of Bera Bach which rise beyond. Although this steadily gains height, it actually skirts to the south of Drosgl’s summit... I followed it before circling back, but, in retrospect, a direct approach is probably better. Whatever way you arrive, the sight of the summit plateau, liberally covered with boulders, is memorable and somewhat unexpected after all the preceding grass. Plenty of raw material for cairn building, then.

Needless to say the cairn builders did not disappoint. No sir. OK, the (I assume) modern cairn marking the summit is a very average effort, but the prehistoric versions, significantly sited to the north overlooking the coast and NOT overlooking Cwm Caseg and the heart of The Carneddau, are anything but. Hell no! Excavated in 1976 (see miscellaneous post), two cairns are readilly seen, the southern of which is by far the larger and very impressive by any standards, the northern much smaller, but with visible kerb. Both cairns apparently contained cists when excavated, the southern two (one of them intact), the northern ‘just’ the one. The larger cairn has clearly been restored to present what I assume is as near as dammit its original appearance. No dodgy storm shelters deface this beauty, contributing to what would be a fine mounument in any location. However placed up here...well... I’ll spare you the usual cliches. Suffice to say these two cairns pay host to a superb hang with exceptional, contrasting views of coast and brutal upland landscape.

But that’s not all. Very strong walkers may wish to continue past Bera Bach (I got this far) and on to Garnedd Uchaf/Foel Grach, both the latter crowned by their own funerary cairns..... needless to say keep an eye out for mist, however, since this is very serious terrain indeed. On the return back to Gerlan I’m greeted by a somewhat idiosyncratic Irishman dressed in shorts... ‘bejasus, I’ve been warmer in the snow, so I have’, he says. Or something like that. Yeah, don’t come to the Northern Carneddau and expect the ordinary......

True, a pre-dawn of driving Essex rain isn’t the greatest of incentives to drag the self out of bed for the long drive to North Wales... but once you’ve become a Citizen Cairn’d there really isn’t an option. You know how it is. A labour of love.

So.... some time later, I park at the Quaker memorial a little beyond the grassy dam which holds back the waters of Llyn Celyn... waters which have concealed Cwm Tryweryn and the former Quaker village of Capel Celyn (hence the memorial) since 1965. Yeah, Llyn Celyn is a sore point in recent Welsh history, but even on this overcast, drizzly morning it is damn attractive. But now for some Welsh heritage which is far, far older, albeit hidden away beyond a seemingly impenetrable woodland screen above and to the north.

The approach is mercifully short – relative to other upland Bronze Age funerary cairns – but not the easiest, it has to be said, an obscure public footpath sign indicating an overgrown route beside a beautiful, tumbling stream (yellow tipped posts) which, clearly, few people ever tread. Persevere, however and you’ll exit the treeline at a ruined drystone enclosure where Garnedd Wen – the ‘White Cairn’ – crowns the rocky summit to your left.... unseen. Damn it to blazes! Crossing the Nant Hafod-Fadog, together with obligatory complimentary bog, the monument is attained only after a short, sweaty struggle up the ridge through knee deep heather. But then nothing of true value ever falls straight into your lap, does it? At least not into mine. Yeah, it’s a seriously reclusive ‘Howard Hughes’ of a cairn – and rather more grey than white – but like the aforementioned, it’s substantial and overwhelmingly enigmatic. Worth the effort, then.

It’s therefore sad to report that, like most of these upland monuments, Garnedd Wen conceals a somewhat hollow centre. However this was apparently caused by an ‘excavation’ of yore which, it seems, uncovered a cist... and not the usual walker muppets sheltering from the elements. Ha! The irony is not lost upon me because it’s freezing cold, even at this relatively low altitude. However, as I sit taking in the marvellous vistas ...across Llyn Celyn to the similarly crowned Arenig Fawr... west to Carnedd Bachgen upon Arenig Fach.... north to be-cairned Carnedd-y-Filiast...east toward Frongoch where a young Michael Collins was interned following the 1916 Easter Rising.....the ambience of this superb site takes over, an atmosphere several sharp hail showers only serves to escalate into the stratosphere. Sure, the lower landscape may have significantly altered over the millennia, but I’ll wager the high peaks look much the same now as they did when a certain Bronze Age community laboured to pile all these stones here. I’m happy to report that the Garnedd Wen still remains upon this hilltop as mute testimony to their efforts. You say it best... when you say nothing at all.

P.S – my thanks to Victor Lindesay and his ‘The Old Fashioned Antiquarian’ web-site for the inspiration for this visit... see the on-going ‘Blogs and websites of possible interest’ thread in the TMA Forum.

Bit controversial this one. The stones that make up the base of the fountain on The Old Steine in Brighton allegedly once stood in a circle in close proximity to the Goldstone. Some of these same stones now surround The Goldstone in Hove Park, though it was always believed to have been a large solitary stone in its original position. They’re certainly of the same material as The Goldstone and its attendant circle, a sandstone and flint conglomerate, except one or two which are genuine sarsens. However, according to other sources, the fountain stones were part of a circle near the Wellsbourne (or Whalesborn, the now hidden river) in the valley which constitutes The Old Steine and which gives the area it’s name (Steine – Stone). Yet another source states that they were simply stones scattered along the banks of the river and that they were gradually tidied up over the centuries until they came to their present resting place and had no sacred or special significance whatsoever. Whatever the truth is, it’s testimony to the gradual destruction of ancient relics in the area over a long period, but I guess that it still acts as a central meeting place, albeit one where most of those gathered the day I was there were clutching cans of lager.

Coming at Leaze from King Arthurs hall I met no resistance from cattle or farmers, infact I felt relaxed enough to linger and tarry long enough for the fog to lift and fall and lift again.
I wasnt sure what to expect with this stone circle as my computer was busted and I did little research into where I was going. I was suprised and delighted to find it a good one, yes some stones are gone and a few have fallen and a long hump seperates east from west, but the stones are big enough and there’s enough of them to offset these drawbacks.
The rocky tor to the southeast is a good place to look over to the stones and is the shortest route back to the road, allthough it takes you perilously close to Leaze farm, perhaps youll be lucky like me and have some fog to hide behind.

After a long drive down I squeezed in a couple of hours of fitful snooze in the car , then I started the long uncertain trek into the fog.
I had a map and a compass but it didnt take long before the footpath petered out and I was left guessing when to turn, the fog got so thick that I had no visual reference to go on at all and I began to mutter to myself ” bloody sunrise, what AM i doing” and such. Later rather than sooner a thin tarmac surfaced road came to my rescue, I followed it east hoping that it lead to where I thought it would ( ie a farm) it did and I breathed a sigh of releif mixed with a long groan, I had gone too far north and not enough east, from the farm it should be easy, mercifully it was, a wall soon came out of the fog, I followed it to some cows, who to a moo completely ignored me, which was nice. After the cows I could see a slight uneveness to the horizon, as there was nothing else to aim for I staggered on untill King Arthurs hall had fully realised itself before me.

I had absolutely missed the equinox sunrise, infact the sun didnt show up for another hour or so and then high in the sky, but I did find my target in the end. Had it been clear the big orange globe would have risen in line with the southern short arm of the rectangle. It would have been cool I’m sure.

As to what this thing is, I have no clue, it is rectangular in shape but is a million miles from the one in Carnac Brittany, perhaps its best to see it as being the same as most stone circles and henges only rectangular, I feel sure thats cleared all that up.
With the fog holding back the outside world it was just me and the ghosts of Camelot and a s**t load of busy spiders, outside the hall it was barren dead countryside but it seemed that nature still hung on inside the henge if only in a very small way. A warm evening visit would be best suited to veiwing the equinox sunset and the henge in its sterile surroundings.

Visited 21.11.10.
Isn’t it funny how you can visit a site several times and spot something you hadn’t seen before on each visit? Well, that was certainly the case for me today. Taking Dafydd out for a drive I decided upon a double visit to the CADW sites of Tinkinswood and the nearby St Lytham’s. Both sites are well signposted and easy to access. One of the things which had prompted a return visit was seeing a drawing of how the site may have looked when in use (Prehistoric Britain page 18 by Alan Sorrell)
Anyway, parking in the small parking area provided we went through the kissing gate when I noticed to my left a sign post showing the ‘approved path’ to the site. I had not noticed this before; I had always walked along the rough track directly to the burial chamber. Taking this route for a change I first noticed the large outcrops of stone, on the left, amongst the trees on the other side of the fence. Were these ‘natural’ or once part of the chamber? Just before reaching the burial chamber, again in a field to the left, there was what could be easily to the untrained eye (i.e. mine!) be confused as a ruined burial chamber. Access is easy enough to this ‘oddity’, over a home made wooden stile, although I am sure it is on private land. There are four large stones to be seen, the largest (capstone looking) was on top of one of the others – worth a quick look.
As for the ‘real’ burial chamber, the inside was under a couple of inches of water – as it has been every time I have visited and there were the remains of several tea lights. It was nice to compare the drawing in the book I brought with me with the site itself – it certainly stirs the imagination! I will have to visit on a hot summer’s day as this would be a pretty good place for a picnic – but not today!

Visited 21.11.10.
After my frustrations yesterday of having my planned day out ruined by fog I was desperate to get my ‘fix’ today instead. It had been a while since I last visited this (CADW) site and as it is only a 30 minute drive from where I live I thought ‘why not?‘
(Karen is now only two weeks away from the expected date of the baby arriving so I have promised not to travel too far from home)
Taking Dafydd with me we followed the signposts and parked next to the field gate which gives easy access to the dolmen. A 50 metre walk up a small incline and you are there. Just to the right of the chamber as you approach you will see the largest of the several stones sticking out of the ground. The wind was sharp and cold so we sheltered inside the chamber – easy to do as the roof is way above head height. There is a small hole through the back wall stone which I assume is from weathering? We didn’t stay long as Dafydd complained of being cold and wanted to go back to the warmth of the car – I can’t say I blame him.

After some light refreshment in Gairlogie I decided to go for a wee stroll down to Cullerlie with a couple of mates. By the time we arrived we had been drenched but the atmosphere in the gloomy dark made up for the difficulties. Maybe this place should viewed like this as many have said that it’s ‘show status’ detracts but tonight it was eerie even scary at the same time welcoming, the stones looking like old friends having a natter. Westhills and Aberdeen glowed in the distance like faraway bonfires, maybe long ago similar scenes would have been seen. With that we walked back somehow avoiding being knocked down by boy/girl racers using this as an alternative route as the main road into Peterculter was closed.

Visited 21/11/2010.

Good to be back on home turf after a while dahn sarf . Five new finds today , some of the most photogenic .

Not much left to see here, just an arc of stones which probably formed part of the western side of the kerb of a cairn, with a pile of stones nearby.

Back in 1887, five cup marks were seen on this stone; by 1997 only two were visible. When I visited in 2010 none could be seen as most of the stone was covered in grass.

I drove down the lane to Culnakirk steading in search of this panel and encountered a fairly new house named ‘Clachmhor’ on my left. The owner was pottering about in his yard so I asked him about the whereabouts of the stone. He amiably pointed over a fieldgate leading from his driveway to a large block just a few yards away.

A friend down from London looking for some photo opportunities; against the odds another beautiful November day broke through the early mist so I suggested Uffington White Horse. Parked friend’s car in Ashbury and walked uphill along a narrow downland footpath at the side of the village church.

Along the Ridgeway via Wayland’s Smithy to Uffington Castle; the White Horse is impossible to truly appreciate from the hillfort – tremendous views of Dragon Hill today though. (See link for history and folk-lore).
berkshirehistory.com/archaeology/dragon_hill.html

While we looked down at Dragon Hill two motorised hang gliders flew over and graced us with a display of their aerial manouvres; a bit later both a kestrel and buzzard appeared over this magnificent place.

Mid afternoon and the sun was sinking fast; by the time we reached the path back down to Ashbury it was setting in the western sky and almost full moon was rising. Utterly peaceful and a perfect day out for my city friend and me.

From the A966 head down towards Tingwall pier but take the LH road at the junction before this. By Midland looking to the near shore there is a long mound with a much smaller one a distance to its left. These are the Knowe of Midgarth (and cairn) and the Midland tumulus. There’s only a field or two between shore and road but I was on a tight schedule because of the time of year and having already spent ages at Tingwall. Also all I saw through binoculars was sere grass and turf – if I had seen the prominent stonework the camera saw and this had been summer I would have been in like a shot.

When visiting the Souterrain there are several signs stating where you can and can’t go and warning signs about ‘live firing’ etc. It was getting late and I didn’t have time to have a good look around to see which (if any) parts of the Hillfort you can access. There are decent views to have all around from this high point.

Like anyone who has visited the wonderful Edingburugh Castle you can’t help but think that this would make an ideal spot for a defended enclosure. It reminds me very much of the rocky outcrop that Dumbarton Castle is built on.

I visited this site back last summer whilst heading for the nearby park / duck pond. I didn’t realise this was site on TMA! Very easy to access and once your eyes have adjusted you can see pretty cleraly into the well. I remember being pleasantly surprised that there was no litter forced into the well. Also not far away is the (in my opinion) hiddeous Scotish Parliament building. (And I thought the Welsh Assembley building was poor!!)

It hasn’t been decided if this is natural or man made. One thing is that the locals believe that fairies and elves meet up here. Strange lights have been reported in the area. On my visit no strange goings on happened. It is 18 meters wide and 1.5 meters tall.

From the village of Glenkindie take the minor road east and follow the signs to Muir Of Fowlis. Elphhillock is on the northern side of the road, down the hill near the banks of the Loanend Burn opposite the steading with the same name.

Visited 14/10/2010.

In a cultivated farm field, a venerable old standing stone along with some fallen stones on the remains of a long barrow, now just a small mound. A small leafless tree growing next to it – an elder I think.

Visited today on a bright, chilly afternoon; near the Cotswold village of Daglingworth in the Duntisbourne Valley is the Hoar Stone long barrow. The field next to it has a locked gate (easily climbed) and a gap in the field hedge for access. I did it the hard way as usual; climbed over a barbed wire fence into the actual field getting caught on both fence and blackthorns in the process. Glad to report no serious injury and jeans still intact.

In Old English ‘se harne stan’ – hoar stone indicates the boundary between the known, familiar world of human activity and the frightening realm of monsters and the supernatural. Also means ‘grey-haired with age, venerable’ which seems about right.

Just up the lane to the left, is Duntisbourne Barrow – two mounds in Cherry Wood (notice on gate saying walkers welcome). I understand these are the remains of one very large long barrow – much evidence of past excavation and damage.

By the time we reached the layby, the sun was blazing and we didn’t even need our coats. I love an unseasonably warm autumn day in Scotland! On the map, the burial site is shown to be in plantation but this has fortunately been cut back, so we set out through the rather bleak landscape until we found the obligatory interpretation board. I love the fact that a circle of trees had been planted around the site and then cut at such a height that identifies the site, as it would be pretty hard to spot otherwise! Sadly, this once enormous cairn (said to have been in a cruciform shape) was robbed of all of its stones many years ago and all that remains is the small cist. However, it is a lovely site, with fabulous views across the surrounding hills and an amazing echo, which made our voices ring out across the land. The remaining woodland was boggy and overgrown but we thought we could make out a possible large, moss-covered stone about 50m from the site of the cist. However, we were not properly attired (our wellies were packed and in my car back in Langholm) so we couldn’t check it out....so we headed back to the car, pleased we had made it here after all and (almost) completed the Eskdale Prehistoric Trail. We now plan to return in the Spring and visit all the sites again to see how they look and feel in a different season.

Oh my! What a lovely pair of circles these are. We are parked at the layby for the Loupin Stanes and set out across the field. As we came across the stones, I felt a sense of elation; iron age hillforts are all well and good, but give me an upright stone in a field and I am a very happy girl. This is a lovely compact set of stones, slightly raised but with a sense of isolation which suits the location perfectly. We then set off for the Girdle Stanes, expecting more of the same.
What we weren’t expecting is one of the most beautiful and mesmerising circles we have ever seen! We were completely blown away by it all; the fact that it must’ve been HUGE when complete (although Vicky has her own theory that it was only ever a half circle.....that was something we pondered later over a couple of bottles of wine!), the fact that it reminded us both of Athgreany Circle in Co Wicklow and the fact that it was just bloody marvellous! I really wasn’t expecting to feel so enthused by this place and I have a sneaking suspicion that the Girdle Stanes have just crept into my Top 10 Circles of all time list. The whole of this river valley reminded us both of Kilmartin and we wondered what other monuments must have existed here; surely this couldn’t be it? As you stand in the valley and look around, it feels like there must be so much more just waiting to be discovered – or possibly ruined and now lost to us. We walked up to the road from here and spent ages just looking back down at this circle, completely in love with the whole place. Fabulous.
Pebs had mentioned that it has rained every time she has visited these stones but I am happy to report that the sun was hovering in the sky, albeit amongst some rather grey looking clouds and we were once again thankful that the weather seemed to be on our side. The ground between the 2 circles was very boggy and it took some time to navigate our way between the two. I definitely would advise walking from the Loupin Stanes to the Girdle Stanes across the fields (there is a wooden sign post showing the way) and then walking back along the road, as it gives you a real sense of how beautiful this valley is.

We got out of the car and set off up the wee track, just as the heaven’s opened and a deluge of rain and hail came down. We ran back to the car and sat there for 10 minutes until it slowed down a wee bit and then Vicky decided to take the Forestry Commision on single-handedly, by driving up the path and onto the F.C. road which runs below the hillfort! We parked at the base and set off up the steep pathway, feeling rather rebellious and relieved that the rain had stopped and that our walk up had been reduced by her daring actions. Ha ha ha. Oh my, what a site this is! Another great interpretation board and leaflet and even more spectacular views of the valley below. We tried to get our bearings by working out the position of the sun, which was just starting to peek through the grey clouds (being the great explorers that we are) and we were truly impressed with the sheer size of this site. This is said to be the most spectacular of the remaining forts in the area and it is easy to imagine just how impressive it would have been. Weather aside, this is a great time of year to visit these sites as the colours are breathtaking, the bracken has died back and there is a wonderful sense of isolation as you get the whole place to yourselves.

The weather was still a bit dodgy so the thought of heading up not one but three hillforts in an afternoon was seeming far less likely. However, we got to Bailiehill Fort and parked by the interpretation board. A very friendly, local fisherman came over for a chat and explained the field below was known as the “Handfasting Field”; I think it is the point where the 2 tributaries of the river meet, which seems rather beautifully symbolic. After chatting with him we felt more enthused about attempting the steep climb up to Bailehill so, with wellies and waterproofs on, we set off. Now, wellies are not really the best footwear for walking up steep inclines but it was pretty boggy and we eventually got to the interesting bits, albeit slightly out of breath – but what a view!
Although the skies were still heavy with rain and grey we could see straight across the valley and the colours on the hillsides were stunning. We could also make out a number of other hill fort sites on the surrounding hills as we pottered around. This site has some great thunking ramparts and I was staggered to read that is has never been excavated, so we tried to do a bit of our own “digging”, poking around in some of the exposed holes but it proved unfruitful. Bah.

After a good time spent doing our usual “oooh, look at this” and “do you think this is....” and after considering the theory that these were not defensive locations at all but more a case of local one-upmanship and status (“look how high up my house is!“) we rather carefully descended the saturated hillside and were ready for more