Latest Fieldnotes

Visited 3.10.10.
My last ‘adventure’ of my two weeks annual leave – and what a good one to finish on!
Finding your way through the maze of country lanes isn’t that easy (OS map required) but once you find the lay by to park in the Well is easy to access. The lay by is on your left as the lane takes a sharp turn to the right at the bottom of a steep hill. (Follow sign post for the church). Opposite the lay by you will see stone steps leading down towards a stone field wall – the Well is at the bottom of the steps. (The stone with the small cross carved in it is on the verge at the top of the steps – Karen spotted it). It was a lovely sunny day and I really enjoyed the peace and tranquillity of this place, along with the gurgling stream near by. The Well itself is quite small and had lots of ‘offerings’ around it – candles, money, flowers, coloured pebbles and many wooden crosses. The water looked clean but I didn’t chance a sample! Make sure you look out for the silver birch tree next to the Well which has its trunk / branches covered with coins pushed into it – I assumed they have been hammered in? Very unusual. I really liked this place and would highly recommend a visit.

According to my map of the area, my only previous visit to these two obscure moorland stone circles was way back on 20/4/03... and it would appear I wasn’t overly impressed. However a lot of water has gone under the bridge since then – an awful lot, if the proverbial bridge in question happens to be the Pont ‘ar Wysg which stands some way north of the site. Time for a reappraisal, then. Perhaps my ‘tastes’, such as they are, have matured a little?

The aforementioned Pont ‘ar Wysg is a good starting point, if only for the fine skyline profile Y Mynydd Du presents.... or would present if the cloud base wasn’t so low today. There are two car parks to choose from... take your pick, then the path diagonally opposite the one currently not within forestry, that is north of the road, to the right if coming from Trecastle. Incidentally, one can only hope the Roman legionnaries who marched up and down this road [there are the remnants of a camp to the approx west] got continually soaked and hated every minute of their posting! Ha! I suggest you follow the path as best you can and head for the general area to the right of Foel Darw, the most prominent hill in the locality. The circles are fairly obvious once you orientate yourself correctly, the larger being the nearer to Foel Darw to the east.

According to Coflein [see misc post] both ‘circles possess 15 stones, but since several barely break the turf, I could neither confirm nor deny this. Hey, I’d make a good politician, me. Not a good mathematician, though. Other orthostats are pretty substantial for your typical Welsh moorland ‘circle and a lot larger than I recalled. A large recumbent lies between the two monuments, although whether this is an erratic or fallen monolith is a moot point. The latter would be nice, since there is another large recumbent to the north-west beside two much smaller orthostats... and thus – if it indeed once stood – begging comparison with a similar arrangement at the nearby Maen Mawr and Y Cerrig Duon. Add a pretty large cairn sited upon the banks of the Nant Tarw itself – not to mention several other ‘are they or aren’t they?’ stones – and I do believe we have a Dartmoor-esque ritual complex upon these brutal northern slopes of Y Mynydd Du, the whole overlooked by the summit funerary cairns themselves.

As I sit and take in the vibe – and occasional shower – the cloud swirls around the high mountain summits to eventually reveal them in all their glory, Fan Foel particularly striking in unfamiliar, stark section. Family units of wild ponies wander to and fro across this landscape, seeming to give their unfortunate brethren with humans upon their backs a very wide berth. Just beyond the eastern circle I find a pile of stones, not to mention several shallow holes upon the circumferance itself. No need to worry, however, since it transpires that our very own Cerrig has been doing a bit of local restoration work. Which is good to know – if only in retrospect – since I leave Nant Tarw wondering how anyone could fail to be impressed by this place.

Dylan was right. The time’s they indeed are ‘a changing.

Although not exactly in the best of repair, this monument is, in my opinion, nevertheless well worth a visit for a couple of reasons....

Firstly, a number of small orthostats still survive to add some definition to the site, which, although heavilly overgrown with fern – as we head into Autumn – still possesses a pretty good vibe. Which is always a bonus, I find. In actual fact it is so overgrown today that we initially walk right by it, despite the cairn remaining relatively substantial. Coflein has the following to say:

‘A cairn, 20m by 16m and 1.3m high at the NE. Excavation (in 1960’s) revealed stone-walled revetment. Elements of chamber(s)/cist(s) can be seen in robber hollows‘

Secondly, the tomb is sited in a truly glorious position at the bwlch (mountain pass) above lovely Cwm Sorgwm. The 2,000ft peak of Mynydd Troed towers above to the approx north-east offering – in return for a pretty stiff, but short climb – some of the best views Wales has to offer (seriously) not to mention its own round burial cairn.... if you can find it amongst the heather, that is. Across the pass, the skyline is dominated by Mynydd Llangorse, site of a promontory fort in times gone by. One assumes they were hardier people back then...hell, they would have needed to be to survive in these uplands. Incidentally, note that there is also a further enclosure upon the western flank of Cwm Sorgwm [Caeau] to your left as you look from long cairn to promontory fort. This is hard to spot at low level, but pretty obvious if you decide to take a stroll along Mynydd Troed’s ridge to find the round cairn. Add an excellent view of The Brecon Beacons rising beyond Llangorse Lake and the worth of a visit here really is a no-brainer.

If the few times I’ve been here are representative, it’s clear the car parking area can get pretty popular, particularly with locals walking dogs (and kids), so if coming by car, I would advise both an early start, and that you reverse into a space to avoid being blocked in by some muppet. Not that I have been, you understand, but the potential is clearly there....

For the Mam Cymru and I the steep ascent of Mynydd Troed calls... after all it is the best way to gain an understanding of how the many, many prehistoric monuments in the locality inter-relate. Unless you happen to have a helicopter that is. Or fancy a ride in one of the gliders which use the thermals generated by The Black Mountains to such great effect. However I need to feel the wind on my face, so I do. Nothing to do with cowardice, you understand? Get me a ride in an open cockpit bi-plane (with engine!)... then you’d be talking!

themodernantiquarian.com/post/91342/fieldnotes/mynydd_troed.html

To be honest I’m not sure this should actually count as ‘fieldnotes’ since the long, south-eastern ridge of Mynydd Troed is thickly covered with heather this overcast September afternoon, rendering positive identification of anything but a massive cairn difficult, to say the least. So that’s us buggered, then.

But these things happen and, for me, it is the dominating presence of the Pen Allt-mawr ridge (to the south-east) which is the most noteworthy aspect of this spot. Hey, perhaps that’s the reason the funerary cairn was placed here, a considerable distance away from the summit of Mynydd Troed... to face other, perhaps more ‘senior’ people interred upon the higher ridge across the way? [Pen Allt-mawr is obscured by the ridge from the summit, by the way].

The walk down the ridge affords the opportunity to view a number of other monuments from new angles... the Caeau enclosure across beautiful Cwm Sorgwm, its obscure earthworks nicely defined... Castell Dinas and the Bwlch Bach a’r Grib cairn.... the long cairn at the bwlch with Mynydd Llangorse... to name just a few. In short, it’s difficult to know which way to look, such is the quality of the landscape. We solve the conundrum by weaving in a ‘serpentine’ manner across the ridge as we return to the summit. To our right (east) the skyline is totally dominated by the great mass of The Black Mountains (of which Mynydd Troed) is an outlier, whilst either side of Talgarth , to the north, long cairns proclaim the relative fertility of the red soil here [Penyrwrlodd and Ffostyll]. And, of course, a further long cairn lies below us to the approx south-west, the promontory fort upon Mynydd Llangorse rising above, the funerary cairn upon Pen-y-Fan in turn dominating all, looming beyond the crannog-endowed Llyn Syfaddan (Llangorse Lake). Sheer sensory overload.

The climb from the parking area near the long cairn is steep – very steep in places – but relatively short and, as Elderford mentions, an easier alternative path diverting to the right is available some way up. Worth the effort, you could say.

[visited 2/10/10] I can only agree with what the others say about the effort to reward ratio. Fantastic views for not that great a climb. I was surprised to only see a cross bank, the other 2 sides presumably steep enough to not need extra protection.

The cross bank defining the fort area looked denuded to my eye, presumably to obtain the stone for all the well maintained walls along the edge. Though the outer ditch was impressively deep nevertheless.

Also, I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or the climber who poked his head up at the top of his climb to find me there admiring the view.

Access is up a steep ill defined path and so not easily accessible unless in reasonable health.

Despite the indignity of now having a twee stone National Trust tablet – bearing the name of the peak – placed upon its summit, the excavated, and subsequently reconstructed, Bronze Age cairn of Pen y Fan still occupies the same spot it has for millennia. The setting, here upon the summit plateau of this, the highest mountain south of Cadair Idris, is ‘otherworldly’ in the extreme, a desolate area of disintegrating sandstone slabs so uniform it would appear to have had its crown sliced clean off by a gigantic cleaver. Or similar instrument. Indeed, I have a profound sense of being upon something akin to Conan Doyle’s ‘Lost World’, the effect accentuated by the restricted downward views due to the regularity of elevation of the immediate environment. Ha! A natural altar, if ever there was one, just like Corn Du across the way.

The downside to a visit here centres upon the seemingly endless procession of walkers determined to be able to say – in the immortal words of local comedian Max Boyce – ‘I was there!’ And good luck to ‘em, I say, for it is some achievement. And who knows, a glimpse of that cairn may perhaps begin to germinate the seed that may one day flower into another stonehead? Perhaps. As for myself, though, a perch upon the protruding sandstone slabs below to the north is the order of the day. For here the natural world once more takes precedence, a striking panaroma rendered upon the broadest of canvas... the flamboyant sweep of the brush... as in the ridge Cefn Cwm Llwch boldly thrusting towards a Brecon sparkling white in the sunshine, the hillfort Pen y Crug rising to its left, itself illuminated by a passing shaft of light...the elegant skyline formed by The Black Mountains ending abruptly at the English border.... and the little, deft strokes to highlight detail.... a wild foal prancing and skipping far below, much to the apparent annoyance of its mother.. the site of a small defended enclosure upon the lower flanks..... Llyn Cwm Llwch shining like a precious stone beneath a monument to the death of a lost, frightened little boy. Yeah, that is what these mountains are all about. Contrasts.... Grieg’s ‘Morning’ one moment, Holst’s ‘Mars’ the next, but never, ever indifference. They insist you explore the full range and diversity of a sensory perception which, although perhaps fully utilised by our forebearers in the ongoing struggle to survive, is sadly under used by the majority of us nowadays in a society seemingly designed to anaesthetise. In short they make you feel ALIVE!! A primeval injection of reality into the bloodstream. Ha! More please....

Returning to the summit several hours later, all is virtually silent, the plateau almost deserted. Unlike virtually every other summit I’ve been on, it’s almost eerie like this. The contrast, I guess. Hell, it just doesn’t look like a mountain top! To be frank, Pen y Fan and Corn Du are very nearly unique in these Isles (the only other comparable pairing I know of are the much smaller Macleod’s Tables on The Isle of Skye). Is this what attracted our ancestors so? Hmmm. Slowly I make my way back to the also virtually deserted Corn Du. After the crowds have gone, as they say.....

To be honest I don’t know if I’ll be back. If not, so be it, since I’m glad I came again. Besides, people will continue to make the pilgrimage to the cairns. Just as they always used to do.

Popularity’s a funny thing, isn’t it? More like Cicero’s fabled Sword of Damocles hanging over your head, if you ask me? Nevertheless X Factor wannabees will do almost anything to achieve it... and even the most hardbitten cynic (ahem) would probably not say no to it, even when the side effects can clearly be so damaging. Take poor Corn Du, for example, condemned to an seemingly interminable stream of visitors simply because it is neighbour to the highest peak in South Wales. The brutal scars, like open wounds in the red sandstone, that pass for paths here tell their own story. But I guess we shouldn’t be too hard upon humanity in this respect – indeed I would be a downright blind hypocrite to do so – since we appear to have been lured to these high places since the beginning of civilisation. For this is where our Bronze Age ancestors – Neolithic over the Irish Sea – decided to lay their status dead to rest. Which begs the question whether this yearning for the mountain tops is simply a yearning to experience some ‘time out’ from the modern world, or the barely repressed folk memory of a time when these places were the focal point of life for the local communities – the ‘abode of the gods’ in the most literal sense.

I can only speculate upon the latter, but must confess to the former, which is why I  haul myself up the very steep eastern flank of Graig Fan Ddu en route for Corn Du, two young men clad in army gear racing ahead and making me feel very old, yet delighted to be here to experience this moment. Yeah, despite the vicious shower and unforecasted early, low cloud obscuring Cribyn, I’m happy to be the ‘tortoise’ in this respect. Hey, you wouldn’t bolt down a Cordon Bleu meal without savouring every last sensation upon the tongue would you? Exactly. The approach along the ridge is long, but gentle – just what I need with a right hamstring not playing ball. Upon reaching Rhiw yr Ysgyfarnog, Pen y Fan and its companion dominate the scene, Cribyn, Fan y Big and, below, the Upper Neuadd reservoir all bearing reminders of prehistoric funerary practice. It’s no exaggeration to say it’s everywhere you look up here...

At Bwlch Duwynt – literally ‘windy pass’ – I join the myriad groups of middle aged ramblers, young kids in co-ordinated red waterproofs (no Huw, don’t push Cerys over the edge to her certain death, that’s naughty!’, and the occasional lone ‘hill-seeker’ (to use Postie’s term) with the glint in the eye, to ascend to the summit of Corn Du. To say it’s a bizarre place would be an understatement, to say the least, a decapitated plateau sloping towards the north and crowned by a large cairn. And it is this large cairn which is the primary objective of all... how many actually realise that there is a complex Bronze Age cist within the protective modern layers is a moot point, but in many ways that is beside the point. The cairn is the object of the pilgrimage, just as it was no doubt designed to be. Ha! Marvellous. I must admit I’m not too sure whether the visible kerbing is original or not, but, whatever, the positionning is overwhelming – if this sort of thing is your bag.

I retreat a little northwards to overlook the frankly staggering vista down into the magical Cwm Llwch, and only an equally staggeringly nubile blonde runner in tight, lycra shorts and bra top can momentarily distract my attention during the next few hours.... dream on Gladman. I mean, how would you keep up with her with a dodgy hamstring and knees? Huh, thoughts of life, death, sex... all the things that make us human. For if there’s one thing mountains are certain to do it is make you confront your humanity head on – as Cromwell once famously put it – wart’s n’all. Yeah, for a little while all those annoying ‘issues’ of everyday life are allocated their true, due importance. What did ‘so and so’ say again now? Can’t recall? Ha! Yep, Corn Du, away from the crowds munching sandwiches perched upon the cairn, is a good place to be, a good place to give your brain a MOT. Anyway, to my left The Fforest Fawr rise across Glyn Tarell, leading the gaze all the way toward Y Mynydd Du on the horizon... a myriad further Bronze Age burial cairns as far as the eye can see.

To my right rears the flat top of Pen y Fan crowned by it’s own example. Oh well, suppose I’d better go say ‘hello’.

themodernantiquarian.com/post/91328/fieldnotes/penyfan.html

At D21 the Oak tree is also right next to this very well preserved monument. While sitting there meditating on the place I found myself drifting and thinking about the trees. Of course they wouldn’t have been their at the time the monuments were in use but there still seemed to be a great relevance to my modern perspective of the monument. I was thinking about a recent permaculture course I took, and about pioneer species, natural succession and Climax community, when the stable community that is reached and no further succession occurs. This seemed very relevant to me when considering these old stones and the people that put them there, coincidental? Maybe but still a beautiful vision of life beyond words and history.

This is not just your usual wimpish ‘cross dyke’ that you find over most of the South Downs but quite a sizeable beast more in line with Rackham Banks near Amberley. The easiest approach is from the mindless racetrack of the A27 between Worthing and Lancing. Take either the Sompting Abbotts Church turn off for Steyning or the Dankton Lane turn just after, then it’s just a short walk along tracks from either of these roads. The main dyke runs for almost half a mile up the hill and consists of a ditch which is mainly overgrown, and probably served as a track in the past, and the dyke itself which in places is about 4 feet above the level of the surrounding fields. From the top are spectacular views across the South Downs to Cissbury Ring to the west and the chapel of Lancing College in the east. Oh, and if anyone finds a 77mm lens cap around there it’s mine.

A walking friend alerted me to this little cave / shelter, i’d never heard of it.

His directions are as follows.

If you go to Canklow woods, there is a cave there (SK432907), marked as a settlement on os map. It’s only tiny, but urban legend say’s it’s neolithic... (it’d be nice to know if this was true)

If you’ve not been it’s a nice walk if you’ve only got an hour,

Park at mcD’s and walk past the garage.

Just before the houses there is a dirt track. Go up hill, heading for Boston castle.

When at the top, follow path through park, following edge (Past cave).

Drop down the opposite end through the woods (Terraced – this was an ancient farming site) and back along the bottom.

The dolmen is located not far from the Blarney Castle , in a park called Rock Close. This area seems to have always been popular with Druids , who used these stones for their rites.

After several enquiries with local people, including Patrick Will, it seems that this stone was moved from Shethin Stone Circle during the late 1800s. Fairly obviously it has been used as a gatepost but it hasn’t been damaged. Standing at 4 feet tall it still is an impressive piece of granite.

Can be found at the northern entrance to Shethin farm. Both neighbours spoke and asked loads of questions about the area. Thankfully it was me they spoke to, if Patrick had been there he’d still be there and the locals would have been much richer in the knowledge of their local area. The man is a genius!

Visited 27/09/2010.

Although back in South Wales following a few pretty extreme days wild camping in Mid Wales, there’s nevertheless no time to rest up and lie in bed ... not with a pretty rare good forecast for today. Oh no.... weather windows are like gold dust to the explorers of the Welsh uplands. To the hills!

So, with The Mam C on board as insurance against any ‘Bryn y Gorlan-esque’ megalithic seizures, I arrive at The Gospel Pass, the mountain col where the (very) minor road traversing the length of the beautiful Vale of Ewyas breaches the northern escarpment of The Black Mountains between Pen-y-Beacon and Twmpa. It is a justifiably popular spot, not only with assorted foreign tourists in camper vans and walkers, but with the local wild ponies, too, these a far more genial lot than the usual.

Those wishing to walk the mountains from here have a choice; west to Twmpa, otherwise known as Lord Hereford’s Knob (I kid you not, check the map) or north-east to Pen-y-Beacon (aka Hay Bluff). We choose the latter, not only for the exquisite, not to mention easy, walk up the long ridge of Ffynnon y Parc to the summit, but since Coflein lists the remnants of a Bronze Age cairn near the top. Although not the first time we’ve been here, the cairn is not exactly prominent and the memory isn’t what it was, you know? A couple of short, violent squalls come out of nowhere during the initial stages of the ascent to leave an ever improving day in their wake. Twmpa is outstanding in retrospective profile, but it is Mid Wales, ranged along the northern horizon which is arguably the highlight of the walk. As we near the summit, the site of a sadly virtually destroyed stone circle is highlighted below by a group of stationary cars and vans. Aye, they’ve only gone and used it as a car park, haven’t they? You couldn’t make it up. No, really, you couldn’t. The one – as I recall – remaining orthostat standing forlornly as punters kick a ball about beside it.

And there it is. The cairn, I mean. No fanfares or trumpets I’m afraid since I’ve rarely seen such a denuded, grassed-over cairn. Really, if it wasn’t for the siting at the prow of the mountain, some distance north of the nondescript summit OS triangulation point – and thus benefiting from the exquisite views denied to the actual summit location – I swear you wouldn’t look twice at it. However those that do may well notice a somewhat unexpected feature... the side slabs of a cist buried in the turf. The Mam C peels back said turf to make sure. No doubt at all. Jeez, what a grand spot to interne your dead, looking northwards to infinity.

That, then, is all there is to relate about the actual monument. Now to enjoy the reason the cairn is where it is. The views..... boy are they good. Incidentally there is a natural spring, Ffynnon Beacon, just below to the north. Maybe that was significant, maybe not. But it does seem to be a recurring theme. Later we retreat to the Mam C’s favourite spot, a (natural) stone literally overhanging the England/Wales border to the south-east. Viewed from here, the ‘circle site sits below and to the right of the cairn. Both monuments are trashed by visitors... but I think the cairn has got the better of the deal. Yeah, the summit of Pen-y-Beacon is a good place to be.

Visited 19.9.2010. I must have walked past this stone several hundred times when we lived in York, yet I have never noticed it before, nor did I know it was there until Sunday. On our way to the (re-vamped) Yorkshire Musuem, it was a case of – there’s some prehistoric rock art!

How bizarre.

The Museum is still worth a visit, although it’s a bit pricey now we’re non-residents. The prehistory bit is rather overshadowed by the much larger Roman and Medieval displays, unsurprisingly given York’s history perhaps. Also a lack of information about provenance for most of the prehistoric stuff, although the finds from the Arras cart burial are very nice.

Visited this simple bowl barrow yesterday. It stands in the corner of a field above a road junction, and has a large oak tree now growing from it.

There is very little evidence of the surrounding ditch, and very little left of the barrow itself, though English Heritage report it as never having been excavated (see Misc link).

Easily seen from the road (through a hedge/fence), I didn’t see any obvious way into the field from the road.

So, following on from an unexpected – since it is not marked on OS maps – visit to a fine kerbed cairn at Maen Hir to the south, I head northwards towards what appears to be at least one very large cairn upon the western flank of Cistfaen. The intervening ground is very boggy and comprised of long, spongy ‘ankle twister’ grass. Thus, although not a great distance, this turns into a sweaty struggle, if the truth be told.

As I arrive, however, the air resonates with, I’m sorry to say, an exclaimation not fit for a family web-site. Why? Well, the ‘large cairn’ that had so intrigued me from down below is in fact a large outcrop of totally natural, shattered rock. What a swizz! Surely the Ordnance Survey guys couldn’t have made such an error of judgement as this. Surely not?

Needless to say, they haven’t. I decide to carry on up hill to the right of a large plantation of trees and... there they are! One very large and one somewhat smaller Bronze Age funerary cairn crowning the 535m summit of Cistfaen. The larger, to the south, has unfortunately been fashioned into several sheep shelters – as opposed to hillwalking muppet shelters, which is some consolation, I guess – but nevertheless remains a very substantial monument indeed. Its smaller companion sits behind it to the north, crowned by a small boundary stone. The positionning is impressive, if very bleak and brutal in the extreme, the bare, windswept high hills of Cwmdeuddwr anything but friendly looking today. Forestry is also encroaching on either side and to the north. Nonetheless I find the whole area beguiling, however, since this is not a place for tourists to come and spoil the vibe or drop litter. Not with terrain like this making even a short trek a major undertaking [please bear this in mind if perhaps planning a long walk – although it may look simple on the map, it probably isn’t!]. Below me to the south-west the Nant Rhyd-y-Felin and Nant Ffos-casaf flow to meet the Afon Ystwyth, whilst the serious wet lands of Gors Lwyd to the south exemplify the water content of the area. It is no accident that the Elan Valley reservoirs are nearby.

I do not have all the time I may have wished for today since I am heading south to The Mam C’s later on. But a visit to these two, lonely hilltop cairns, coupled with the splendid example upon Maen Hir... are just what the doctor ordered.

Head west from Insch on the B9002, the north side is Dunnydeer and the south side is Hill Of Christ’s Kirk both hillforts. Next west after Christ’s Kirk is the Hill Of Flinders, after that is Fallow Hill.

I asked permission to park at Berrybrae Farm and climbed the gentlish slopes to the top. Several fences of the barbed wire variety and some friendly cows kept me company. Not much now can be seen of the fort, aerial photography shown to me by the lady at Berrybrae, indicates at least one line of defence. On the southern side, faint remains can be seen. This area is hillfort central with Dunnydeer, Hill Of Christ’s Kirk, Mither Tap, Tap O Noth, Cairn More, Hill Of Leslie and Wheedlemont all visible from here. So with that done it was avoid presents left by the cows. Its done nothing but rain up here for weeks but today for a change it stayed reasonably dry.

Visited 24/09/2010.

This cairn is set at the east end of Fallow Hill on what would have been the edge of the fort. Now grass covered it is 8 meters wide and almost 1/2 meter in height. All the usual suspects Noth, Dunnydeer etc etc can be clearly seen from here. The cows proved to be friendly which after recent exploits was a pleasant change.

Visited 24/09/2010.

Blimey. This is a turn up for the books, or what? I awake to a dry morning near Blaen y Cwm, the point where the Afon Ystwyth begins its turbulent descent to Cwm Ystwyth to the west. A favourite location, it must be said. The shapely ridge of Esgair Elan, forming the southern flank of the pass, momentarily entices, but I must resist those elegant curves! Instead I decide upon a quick climb upon Craig y Lluest to the north for a monumental view into the valley, promptly being lifted bodily by the severe gale force winds as I leave the lee of the hill... Hmm. Upon the return I suddenly notice what appear to be several massive cairns near the forestry upon Cistfaen, to the north of Glan Fedwen. Haven’t noticed those before.. I check the map. Oh well, Cistfaen it is, then.

I clamber up the south western flank of the aforementioned Glan Fedwen, quite a substantial hill as it happens, with superb retrospective views, and suddenly come to a dead stop, gobsmacked. For here, unmarked on any map I’ve seen of the area, stands one hell of a large kerbed cairn, its stones glistening in the sunshine. Well I never did. It’s true, I never did. How can something like this have escaped everyone’s attention – not least mine for all these years – particularly being only a little out of sight above the road? I mentally search for reasons.... field clearance? Pull the other one! Walker’s cairn? Ha! Give me a break. No, this is the real deal all right. No question of that [see Coflein post for confirmation].

And what a landscape position, too, looking towards the ‘jaws’ between which flows the Afon Ystwyth. Classic. What’s more, there are several smaller cairns in the near vicinity. I do believe here we have ourselves an unmarked prehistoic cairnfield. Right on!

To the north I can see – or more correctly, THINK I can see – the burial cairns upon the hill of Cistfaen, this time actually depicted upon my 1:50k map. I shall continue and visit these, too, as planned. But what a way to start.

themodernantiquarian.com/site/13371/cistfaen.html

It’s difficult to ascertain exactly when my third dawn upon Pumlumon arrives... so hostile is the weather. I finally take the hint. Sorry. Outstayed my welcome, Mam. I head for the lower hills to the west of Rhayader, The Cwmdeuddwr – ‘Valley of the two waters’, or something like that – but neglect to fully close my windows as I descend to Ponterwyd. A face full of road surface water later, I reflect that I probably needed a wash anyway.....

A minor road forks right from the B4518 just west of Rhayader and ascends to a rocky col in the hills between Craig Ddu and Esgair Dderw, the latter incidentally bearing the fine monolith Maen Serth. If there’s a small lake below to your left, you’re on the right road and you will soon pass a pretty handsome waterfall. Park in the roadside layby just beyond and Crugyn Gwyddel lies over the horizon to the approx SW. A footpath sign indicates a path slanting diagonally across the hillside towards Craig Ddu. Now this is the path you SHOULD take, in retrospect, veering right up the ridge to the OS trig point on Crugyn Ci, and hence west to the burial cairn.... needless to say I take the direct approach in vicious, driving rain, struggling to ford the raging stream and heading on a bearing before becoming engulfed in swirling mist. Suddenly I feel very, very isolated and vulnerable. Hell, how many times have I probably bored others to death with tales of how dangerous the Elan Hills are... “don’t get caught in mist unless you know what you are doing etc”... and now I’m having to literally ‘walk the walk’, so to speak. Oh well.

The mist lifts a little and there is the ridge of Crugyn Ci to my left. I reassure myself... ‘see, you are right after all, muppet’.. mounds loom ahead, crowned by standing stones. These turn out to be boundary markers upon natural – I think – outcrops. One, however, is unlike the others, suspiciously artificial in composition, sans boundary stone and bearing several quartzite rocks within a small cairn. I take a bearing to the trig point and am satisfied this must be Crugyn Gwyddel – the ‘little cairn of the Irish person’, so it is. Ha! Must have been a lazy bugger, too, since I was expecting the standard, large cairn of stones! I huddle behind my rucksack for lunch, trying to avoid the worst of the cooling effect of the hammering rain. Somehow it seems appropriate, a small cairn, arguably not that much to write home about, yet set admist weather so hostile as to be worthy of a Wagnerian cycle rendering photos completely out of the question. Sorry.

I head to the escarpment edge to the south – for misty views of Pen-y-Garreg Reservoir – before making for the OS trig point. The path, such as it is, is superfluous since Esgair Pen-y-Garreg is now a mass of bog. Somewhere here is a supposed stone row. I cannot locate it so assume it must have sunk! Upon arrival I shelter in the limited lee of the trig pillar and have a theoretical debate with myself – would I now use the storm shelter if there had been a disturbed Bronze Age cairn at the summit? I decide in the negative, and to prove the point move to the lee of a crag below instead. If in doubt, look where the sheep go, those masters of mountain survival. But it is not enough. For the first time I can recall in memory – I think – I have gone beyond what I can honestly take, the freezing effect of the driving, horizonal rain causing the very first, initial warning of oncoming hypothermia. Yeah, I must go. Now.

Then.... all of a sudden the mist peels away and sunlight streams across the landscape, revealing Cwmdeuddwr in all its golden glory, the air sweet and fresh after the downpour. Rhayader shines in the distance, the high ridge of Drygarn Fawr/Gorllwyn visible to the south, Y Gamriw to its left. Nearer to hand, the Maen Saeth can be seen through field glasses. I’m virtually dry in no time and the danger is past. Ha! Mother Nature gave me one hell of a kicking and then took pity in the nick of time. Make of that what you will. I pick out Crugyn Gwyddel to the west and decide I wouldn’t have missed this experience for the world, small and relatively insignificant as the monument is. Because, quite simply, experiences like this are beyond measure – the landscape, shaped by weather patterns as it is, is the defining feature of these upland funerary cairns. It really is.

I descend via the ridge to the north, diverting to Craig Ddu for more views of Maen Serth before finally reaching the car. So to bed. Thank you and goodnight.

It may seem to be somewhat taking the proverbial wotsit to describe an afternoon of swirling mist, high winds and showers as ‘better conditions’, but following a morning of truly atrocious weather at Castell Bwa-Drain, it is the truth. And, hey, this is Wales after all....

A minor road leaves the B4343 from Devil’s Bridge at Pont-rhyd-y-groes, heading for New Row – or Rhes Newydd, if you are a local who paid attention at school – from where a left hand fork gives access to the small village of Brynafan. At crossroads just to the east, I take the southern farm track – on foot, I hasten to add – and disappear into the fog. Here we go again.... Eventually a hill, for want of a better description, materialises through the gloom. Ha! Good place for a hillfort, a hill. This must be it, I guess. The field gate is unlocked, but since a farmhouse is nearby I decide to go and have a word. A young bloke eyes me suspiciously, brandishing a welder’s torch.... gulp... a pretty hot reception, if the truth be told. Whatever happened to the old fashioned pitchfork? Luckily the farmer pokes his head ‘round the corner and readilly agrees to a visit.

The hillfort occupies a crag high above the Afon Ystwyth in much the same manner as the aforementioned Castell Bwa-Drain does above the Rheidol, with man made defences only thought necessary where an approach could be practically made – no need towards the south, then. OK, the site has seen better days – after two millennia what do you expect? – but nevertheless two reasonably powerful ramparts can be seen protecting a rocky summit and what appears to be an extensive enclosure to the east. Nice. But it is the siting which is the lasting memory of a visit to Castle Grogwynion. Even in swirling mist, the view looking down upon the Afon Ystwyth to the west is exceptional. I must be enjoying myself because my watch all too soon indicates I must leave to avoid being overtaken by the inexorable approach of darkness. I meet the farmer in his tractor as I climb the farm track back to the road. ‘Enjoy yourself?’ he enquiries, and is clearly happy as punch when I answer in the affirmative. Right on!

N.B. – apologies for the quality of photo posts. They were the best I could manage in the circumstances!

Dawn upon the flanks of Pumlumon makes it clear that visits to Banc Llechwedd-mawr, Drosgol... or even Dinas... will have to wait for another day. Clearly yesterday’s weather window, allowing a visit to Pen Pumlumon-Arwystli’s cairns, has been comprehensively slammed shut with a vengeance! That’s yer lot.

So, what was the name of that hillfort Kammer liked so much, then? OK...nice name.. hopefully a visit here will save the day from going down the proverbial drain. So, a steep, single track road heads south from the A44 towards Ystumtuen, from where an equally minor route heads beneath the transmitter upon Ffynnon Wen to Bwa-Drain farm. Here it is necessary to open a gate to proceed further. This I do, parking beside a field gate proclaiming no entry due to a dangerous excavation of some kind or other. Beyond rise what appear to be quite substantial ramparts of a pretty impressive hillfort. Nice. If only I had the weather to match, instead of this driving, horizontal rain. Then again if I had, I wouldn’t be here, would I? Damn the logic, but the sensible part of Gladman is right. Luckily the ‘other’ part is not so sensible and happy to venture out in the storm....

I head a little way back down the road to the farm and take the short public footpath towards the site, encountering the ruined building Kammer mentions en route. The hillfort is a classic promontory fort, a quite powerful rampart isolating the enclosure from the hinterland to the north, east and west (approx), the gorge of Cwm Rheidol all that was thought – and by any accounts was – necessary to defend the south. And what a gorge! Despite the swirling mist and downpour, the view of The Afon Rheidol looking along the valley to the west is breathtaking, it really is. And to think this splendid river has its source within Llyn Llygad-Rheidol beneath Pen Pumlumon Fawr. Ha! Several handsome ponies eye me suspiciously as I walk the ramparts – as well they might – but clearly decide I can be ignored. So what’s new?

A shrill whistle and a stream of smoke – not easy to distinguish from the swirling cloud – announce the arrival of one of Wales’ ‘little trains’ across the cwm, the punters on board no doubt none too pleased at the weather outside. Hey, but perched up here, despite the rain lancing straight into my face to find every minute gap in my defences, I find I have fallen in love with Castell Bwa-Drain. What appear to be natural rocky outcrops look to have been utilsed by the original occupants as additional, outer defences, together with two ‘spurs’ to the north.

I leave hammered, yet happy. No photos, but then this visit was perhaps something that was supposed to be of the moment. Or something like that.

The two concessionary footpaths are due to close in November 2011.

Dawn arrives below the western flank of Pen-Pumlumon Fawr bringing the unwelcome grey of low cloud to belie the favourable forecast. Suffice to say Pumlumon is not a place to go wandering in the mist. The twin Bronze Age cairns of Carn Hyddgen – or Carn Gwilyn, if you prefer – rise above the deserted buildings of Maes Nant to the approx NE, standing sentinel over the valley where Glyndwr defeated an English army in June 1401... and I momentarily think of the 200 or so men who died that day. Poor sods. Yeah, Pumlumon is a mountain with a ‘sense of place’ hanging in the moist air so tangible I swear you could cut it with my cheap imitation Swiss Army knife – blunt as it is. So, as is often the case with this mountain climbing lark, plan B is invoked... I will visit the cairns upon Banc Llechwedd-mawr and Glyndwr’s quartz blocks at its base. Except... passing the confluence of the Afon Hengwm and Afon Hyddgen, I have a sudden change of heart. Hell, Craig y Eglwys is clear. Let’s do it!

Pen Pumlumon-Arwystli is not one of Wales’ taller mountains – at 2,431ft far from it – but the trackless slog up Pen Cerrig Tewion to my SE is a serious undertaking simply because of the terrain underfoot; springy long grass and moss, interspersed with bog, doth not an easy ascent make. But then this is the whole point, the reason why my only company are the circling falcons and Red Kites, seemingly waiting for the seriously struggling creature in florescent orange to expire for a free feed. Yeah, Pumlumon keeps its secrets close to its ample chest, so those in search of immediate thrills go elsewhere. Mist swirls across Pen Pumlumon Fawr, its northern crags soaring above the source of The Afon Rheidol as I pick up a reassuring fence-line and slowly... ever so slowly... the summit burial cairns, invisible from below, are in stark profile. Ditto the retrospective view of the monuments at the summits of Drosgl and Banc Llechwedd-mawr. Not to mention Carn Gwilym.

A walker’s cairn crowns the summit of Pen Cerrig Tewion. From it I receive my first view of the far, far older trio upon Pen Pumlumon-Arwystli, rising across Cwm Gwerin. I reach the main ridge and head westwards past the source of The River Wye. The enormity of the action strikes me like one of the prehistoric arrowheads archaeologists have found upon this ridge. This unmarked bit of bog is the beginning of that mighty river. What’s more, the Severn (Hafren) has its source the other side of my destination. Is it any wonder Bronze Age man was freaked out by Pumlumon... assuming they knew? Hell, why wouldn’t they know? A warden arrives out of the proverbial nowhere on a quad bike and explains he’s collecting markers from yesterday’s marathon. Yeah, there are unfortunately people who insist on treating mountains with such distain. I am glad I chose to come today.

So to the summit, 16, no 15 years since I was last here. The north-eastern cairn is unfortunately much denuded. The other two are not, despite the unwelcome attention of those who do venture up here but still do not have the sense to appreciate it. The first encountered, the south-western, is a fine specimen, despite the storm shelter and, like its near neighbour in the centre, boasts a fabulous view down into Cwm Gwerin, not to mention of the whole of Southern Snowdonia. Pen-Pumlumon Fawr’s own cairns are obvious from here, silhouetted against the skyline. Clearly they were meant to be viewed from here. As was the cairn upon distant Y Garn. The middle cairn also possesses a storm shelter and a crude wind break at its eastern extremity, an edifice eagerly utilsed by one of the two couples of muppets who momentarily join me in passing, so missing the very views one assumes they expended so much energy to see. Whatever.

Everything just feels ‘right’ about the placement of these cairns, you know? Although not the largest you will encounter in Wales, the pilgrimage required to get here means this is arguably the best all round location you’ll find for such monuments. The somewhat adverse morning has developed into an excellent afternoon of high, broken cloud, sunshine periodically streaming through to illuminate the mountainside. I sit upon these cairns and ponder thoughts you can only really contemplate on site. Why did our ancestors bury their dead upon these brutal mountain tops? Sitting here there seems no-where else logical to place them. I mean, come on! The sources of two major rivers – the very essence of life in the most literal sense – either side. Coincidence? Perhaps.. but I think not somehow. The hours fly by and I must leave. I decide to descend through Cwm Gwerin, a landscape of deep bog, yet beguiling nonetheless, the Afon Hengwm effecting great loops as if it was a seagull freewheeling home with a full belly of fish. I reach the car to settle down for the night a true Citizen Cairn’d, to paraphrase The Drude somewhat. Nevertheless I know what he means. Pumlumon blows me away. It really does.

Ah, the Crugiau Merched upon Mynydd Mallaen.... these great prehistoric burial cairns have been on ‘the list’ for a while now, it has to be said. But the approach from the south always seemed a tad long for Gladman tastes and I’d heard of access issues when approaching from the north. However I’m on my way to Pumlumon, so... well, it’d be rude not to have a look in passing, I guess.

The landscape in the vicinity of Rhandirmwyn is first rate, it really is, although surface water from yesterday’s ‘severe weather warning’ does warrant a little extra care on the very minor local roads. Eventually I manage to locate the farm of Bwlch-y-rhiw and note just how steep the approach from the north will be. My poor knees... The Postie arrives – no, not THAT one, unfortunately – and I take the opportunity to ask the occupier of the farmhouse about access across his field as he emerges for a chat. This is not a problem, as it transpires. The cairns are situated upon the 459m Creigiau Landis and are, typically, not visible from down below. The climb is as steep as I anticipate, very boggy, but mercifully short in duration.

As I finally emerge upon the summit plateau the eastern cairn is the first encountered and appears to be a tall, well preserved example of a Bronze Age funerary cairn. Appearances can be deceptive, however, for further investigation reveals it to have a very deep, hollow core reminiscent of the crater of an extinct volcano. Nevertheless an impressive monument. The western cairn is much better preserved, despite the observation channel cut through it for the nearby OS trig point. The views are fantastic to the north and west, the vista to the south gradually clearing to reveal the entire east-west escarpment of South Wales from The Black Mountains in the east to Tair Carn Uchaf upon Mynydd Du to the west. I note the numerous burial cairns crowning these peaks through my field glasses and suddenly feel part of a very big picture indeed. What’s more, a couple of standing stones are prominent upon the main body of Mynydd Mallaen nearer to hand. Nice. More energy would be good, but in lieu of that I must be content to view these monoliths from a considerable distance.

Although substantial monuments, the sight of a great, towering cloudscape above the eastern cairn to the, er, east (surprisingly enough) puts the works of humankind very firmly in perspective. All of a sudden a very heavy, sharp shower sweeps in from the west requiring frantic donning of waterproofs – frantic, but not quite quick enough, it has to be said. Then it is gone, motoring up the valley and I have only circling red kites for company. Yeah, the vibe up here is superb and it is only the thought of spending the night upon Pumlumon that drags me away many hours later....