Latest Fieldnotes

A quick visit on 24 July 2010, on my way home from Herefordshire. Train from Newport drops me at Seven Tunnel Junction and it’s a fairly quick stroll, albeit along a busy road (the B4245) for much of the way. Once through the little hamlet of Llanfihangel Rogiet (“The Church of [St] Michael at Rogiet”), the road goes under the M4, newly arrived from England and the stone is in the first field on the right.

Its location is now horrible, due to the motorway. I know not everyone believes that landscape context means anything, but in a place like this it has been truly destroyed. There are no views at all to the east, blotted out by the motorway. At least a screen of trees and shrubs reduces the visual intrusion slightly but there’s still the noise. To the south the B-road is pretty busy and hedges cut off any line of sight down to the Severn, across which the Devil threw the stone in a fit of anger.

The stone itself is rather fine though, a triangular, lichen covered slab of limestone. Worth a visit, but don’t expect atmosphere unless you’re reading this in a few hundred years’ time when the motorway has been turned into a river of orchids and the cars have been pushed from the road.

I’m pleased to see that the tips and landfill mentioned in previous fieldnotes are closed and are slowly being covered over by vegetation. The route takes a turn for the difficult, as I find myself having to cross a steep cwm (and a rusty barbed wire fence) in order to continue eastwards, but eventually I’m up on the plateau of Mynydd y Gelli (“Mountain of the Grove” or “Wooded Mountain”) itself. I know roughly what I’m looking for, from the links posted on TMA and from the Burl description. The sun is now beaming down on beautiful afternoon. And so I dutifully wander backwards and forwards across the plateau. And backwards and forwards. And backwards and forwards…

There are plenty of low clearance cairns in evidence, but I’m not convinced that any of them fit the description of the ring cairn. I spend about an hour wandering across the area and I’m still not convinced. Maybe it’s lost in the bracken? I have an idea that it’s quite close to the lip of the hillside, but that doesn’t help. Eventually I give up. I should mention that a nice easy footpath heads east from the plateau, until you hit the access road for the old tip. Then, it crosses into an area of quarrying and appears to disappear over a cliff. So I waste even more time trying to get back down off the hillside into the town (so close, yet so far). Finally I scramble down through deep vegetation, hoping not to break an ankle in the process. Gah! No idea how to get back up here if I decide to pay a return visit from this direction. I finish up eventually back at Ystrad station, and head back to Cardiff. Rhondda Stonehenge? An over-enthusiastic billing if ever there was one.

[Post-visit note: A closer inspection of Coflein on my return suggests that the ring cairn itself is slightly further west than my wanderings, and nearer the tall chain link fence. The “cairns” marked on the OS map – which was mainly where I was looking – do not include the ring cairn. I would advise anyone going to look for this to take a print of the Coflein map at a large scale, rather than trusting to the 1:25000 OS map alone.]

So I carry on along the forestry tracks, to where a footpath leaves the access land and heads SSW to Garn Fawr’s companion, Garn Fach (erm, “Small Cairn”). Garn Fach has fared slightly better, but only slightly. It stands at less than 50cm tall, but its overall size is still discernable and the original mound can be seen still. Like most of today’s sites, it is topped with a pile of stones. Garn Fawr is easily visible on the skyline to the north, while Swansea Bay can be seen to the south, as the ground slopes away.

Back onto forestry paths, this time heading south towards the biggest of today’s cairns, Garn Fawr (erm, “Big Cairn”). According to Coflein, the cairn has a diameter of almost 19m. Unfortunately it’s completely trashed. An OS trig pillar has been erected on the top, but that’s the least of the problems. There are several walkers cairns and a big (6ft tall) cylinder of stone, all of which have been constructed from material robbed from this once magnificent cairn. Very little remains now to tell you that there even was a cairn here. There is some evidence of original rubble construction at ground level, but little else.

There are two summit cairns marked on the OS, both within the 535m contour on the very top of the hill where they would have commanded extensive views in all directions. No longer, however. Mynydd Ton (“Wasteland Mountain”) is now cloaked in dense conifer forest, and the summit is no longer open to the elements (it is still open to walkers though).

A forestry track takes me along the edge of the forest, before another heads off in a northeasterly direction into the trees. (Note for anyone wishing to come here – this track is not shown on the OS 1:25000, but it follows an old line of fence posts which are marked.) After about 100yds, a green strip of grass has been cleared through the trees on the south of the path. At the end of this strip is the first of the two summit cairns.

A large mound still exists, marked with a small cairn of stones that covers evidence of burning, rusty cans, and so on. Originally a central cist was found, but there’s no visible evidence of this now.

I head off along the northeasterly path again. It, and the fence post line, take a sharp turn to the southeast. In theory there is an OS trig point here, another relic of a time before the trees. This trig would point me on the way to the second cairn. Unfortunately, the trees have formed an impenetrable barrier, within which is darkness and no way through. I carry on along the path until it meets another running north-south, hoping to find a way in from that side instead. But it’s the same there too. So, I admit defeat. Perhaps at another time of year a way in can be found, or it may be that a way in from the north is possible (I didn’t look in that direction).

I rejoin the bridleway and continue southwest. The ground climbs steadily now, then sharply, before levelling again to a crest just above the 450m mark. At the edge of this little plateau, the OS marks a further cairn. The views to the east over the Rhondda Valley and back to Maendy Camp have now opened up, and to the north the tops of the central Beacons, Corn Du, Pen y Fan and Cribyn are now visible. It takes me a while to find the cairn, supposedly a ring cairn. In the end, all that appears to be left is a pile of stones. There’s no obvious mound or ring at all and the pile itself is shapeless. Still, a good place to stop and enjoy the views, before the pull up to the top of the hill.

In the middle of the open interior, positioned outside and to the southwest of the inner enclosure, are the remains of a badly damaged cairn. A low mound with a few protruding stones can be discerned, around a central pit resulting from excavation. A bronze dagger and some flints were found when the cairn was originally excavated, but there’s little to see now.

Maendy Camp comes into view pretty soon once the path levels out. It makes use of a natural knoll, with the ground dropping away on north and south sides. The Clydach Forest dominates the hills across the valley to the south. Rounding the south-eastern corner of the fort, the rubble construction of the bank is exposed. The interior on the east side is buried under a liberal growth of bracken, making is pointless to try and investigate from this direction. However, the bracken thins out on the west side and it’s easier to gain access here. A low, grass-covered bank cuts across the middle of the site. This is the “inner” rampart, which forms the boundary of a smaller enclosure occupying the northeast part of the camp. The outer rampart is more obviously of rubble construction, particularly apparent along the northern section.

We visited the site on 16.09.10. It was certainly at the coordinates given by Greywether and we followed the path on the OS map though there are several others within yards. Still it’s hard to square our pics with his and Pigmyshrews. Several intervening years, a different season and some wanton destruction may explain this.

Several large stones around the edge, that from the weathering evident on their tops had once stood for centuries, had been fired and split – possibly only a few weeks before our visit as the smell of burning was still faintly noticeable. A very sad sight indeed so only a few pics of the damage are shown here.

To quote from D.P. Sullivan’s “Old Stones of the Cotwolds & Forest of Dean” – This monolith, of Old Red Conglomerate, stands at the side of the Gloucester to Monmouth road about a mile from Coleford in the Forest of Dean.

My very first visit to the Forest of Dean (and Symond’s Yat) today – off topic so a quick mention in passing. Just before the village of Staunton approximately 4 miles from Monmouth on the A4136 stands this 8ft monolith. Impossible to stop (or slow down) if driving towards Monmouth, my friend pulled into a lorry layby about 100 metres further along and we walked back on a narrow asphalt footpath laid down at the side of the verge. An intriguing stone much detracted from by its proximity to a fast A road.

(D.P. Sullivan has written some notes which I which type up for the Folklore section).

This is in a sad and sorry state

The track up here is atrocious: you really fear for your car’s suspension. But there was a notice when I visited yesterday and it seems this month they are closing the track for repairs. So if you visit very soon, you’ll probably have to walk up. but it’s not far, just a bit steep.

I suppose it’s unnecessary to repeat what everyone else has said about the inner ditch but I can’t resist. This place does not feel like a fort. For one thing, where’s the extra reinforcing outer bank round the entrance(s)? Where are the extra banks you’d expect on the flatter side? Why is it so awfully symmetrical feeling? And as for the inner ditch... well it’s just not Normal is it, especially so far into the middle of the area, it’s not like it’s right next to the outer bank. Nah, this place is a bit weird. The banks felt like they were keeping out Prying Eyes, but you could still see the panoramic view from the central area. Or maybe the banks were for sitting on to view whatever was going on in the middle, who knows. I wouldn’t buy anything about cattle enclosures either because the young ones here quite liked the challenge of the ditch.

There was a steady stream of visitors. I guess it’s free and near Salisbury, I don’t blame them but I was expecting to get the place to myself. Also you’ll find a lot of sloes in the hedges around the car park, so if you visit you’ll soon be able to gather some for your sloe gin. The rings themselves are an SSSI and there are lots of nice chalkland plants to check out.

Fieldnotes – 15 September 2010

Came by this site earlier today, so stopped and had a look.

No easy way in so climbed over the hedge onto the reservoir from the road. Completely overgrown and unless you knew there was a barrow here, you would dismiss it as just a small spinney. The reservoir looks like it was built in the 1940’s and I would imagine it feeds an MOD site rather than the village of Box.
The “visible” barrow like the reservoir is very overgrown with three trees growing on top of it, a horse chestnut and two oaks, along with much elder and hazel. The mound stands about 2.5m high and about 20m in diameter. The surrounding ditch is more defined on the north east, about 5m wide and up to 0.5m deep but you cannot get a good impression of it due to the undergrowth. It would appear that this one barrow must have been twice the size of the other two, very similar to the bowl barrows found a few miles away at Colerne Park

Really needs a site visit in the depth of winter when the vegetation was died back.

Although not listed on the MAGIC website, there are a number of other round barrows within a mile of here, but the two I visited on the Kingsdown golf course were extremely reduced. Will revisit the area later in the year to get a better impression of the pre-history.

The first of the “proper” Dartmoor circles I’ve visited, Brisworthy is brilliant, even in the 45 degree rain. It’s set on a sloping hillside, and the eye is immediately drawn to Legis Tor across the valley to the east. It reminds me of other circles that have intervisible rocky outcrops nearby – Boskednan/Carn Galva; Tregeseal/Carn Kenidjack; Nine Ladies/Robin Hood’s Stride. All of these must have been built to sit as part of the bigger natural landscape, it’s an unavoidable connection. The stones of the circle are nicely graded too, and around its outside (particularly on the east) I notice that there are quite a number of small quartz stones in the ground, almost as if there was an outer ring. Be interested to know what anyone else makes of that (if anything!).

There’s something quite satisfying about squelching across sodden moors in the pouring rain. Once you’ve accepted you’re going to get wet, there’s no shelter and no short-cut, a sense of purpose kicks in. So with this feeling, I reach the northern end of Ringmoor Down stone row. After the wonders of Drizzlecombe, the tiny terminal stone is surprising, but it shares with Drizzlecombe Row 1 a partial double section (which may not actually be authentic here). Taking pictures is difficult, as the lens gets wet every time I point the camera anywhere but downwards. Eventually I get up to the cairn circle, by which time the rain has got even heavier. This is actually a great little cairn circle, with decently spaced uprights (one of which looks rather as if it might be upside down). The central cairn is badly reduced. I could imagine spending a lot longer here, if it weren’t so wet. Instead I squelch onwards.

The ground slopes away to the valley of the nascent River Plym. Between my vantage point and there, an incredible array of monuments and animals is laid out. Cows, sheep and horses fill the space, interspersed with very large upright stones dotted here and there. I’ve found the rows, at any rate.

But the ground above the “ritual” complex is itself packed with archaeology. Settlement enclosures, round houses and cairns vie for position. One of the first cairns I come across (cairn 15) has some unusual upright stones in its mound, which appear to be in-situ. It’s right next to a hut circle. As ever, I don’t have the knowledge to really understand the phases of what I’m looking at, which came first and whether the living were sharing their space so closely with the dead. One cairn, much bigger than the rest (cairn 18), is a good spot to view the rest of the site below.

From atop the cairn, the layout of the rows becomes clear, together with their proximity to the even larger Giant’s Basin cairn. Three large terminal stones are readily visible, as are three cairn circles in a line at the northeast of the rows. A large herd of cows and another of horses are clustered around the tallest of the terminal stones and other cows and sheep are busy grazing across the site. There are no people to be seen and I get the impression of being an intruder into this primal space.

But the sun is shining and I’ve travelled a long way to come here, so I’m going to carry on intruding for a while longer yet. The NW of the three cairn circles doesn’t have a row of its own, although a low outlier some way to the southwest (which I don’t try to find in the bracken today) may indicate an intention that it was to have. This cairn is surrounded by a couple of rings of small slabs, suggesting a complex constructional method.

The central cairn circle has a more obvious outer ring of uprights, and is at the northeastern end of one of the three stone rows that form the complex. The centre of the cairn exhibits the usual central doughnut of excavation. A walk along the row ends in the first (and smallest) of the three enormous terminal stones. This one is a tapering slab, 2.3m high, placed edge on to the row and leaning slightly.

I head towards the southwestern row’s terminal stone, but a group of bullocks are getting increasingly lairy around it (once they start trying to shag each other, it’s time to back away). So instead I cut across to the Giant’s Basin cairn. I do get a good look along the southwest row though, worth noting particularly as it’s a double row for part of its length. At its northeastern end is another cairn circle. The slabs at this end of the row have fallen and lie prostrate near the cairn. In addition, there is a small cist between the cairn circle and the Giant’s Basin cairn – talk about packed with archaeology! Row 2, well-seen from the Giant’s Basin, ends in the largest of the three terminal stones. At over 4m tall, this is the tallest standing stone on Dartmoor. Today, four-legged acolytes, cows and horses, surround it. I don’t get too close for fear of upsetting a ceremony of sorts. Its row is the shortest of the three and also ends in a cairn circle, another decent mound surrounded by an incomplete ring of slabs.

I’m awestruck by this amazing place. The primal energies of the animals seem to do it justice and once again I’m filled with the sense that I’m a passer-by, a temporary presence in an ageless space. The bullocks have gradually headed along the southwestern row now, so I skirt their proceedings and make for the now-vacated south-west terminal stone. It’s a lovely symmetrical, tapering 3m slab, again facing edge-on to the row.

What a place. I finally leave the complex, heading towards Ditsworthy Warren. I hope to come here again, this is a site to treasure.

At the highest point of the hill, the southern end of the ridge, are two large cairns. The northern cairn is an impressive 20m across. A Bronze Age reave heads WSW down the hill directly from it. But the southern cairn, the Eylesbarrow itself, is bigger still. Another of the reservoir catchment markers stands between the two cairns, on a windswept spot that will be the highest point of my walk today. Without hanging around very long, I follow the reave down the hill.

To the northeast of the row, but not aligned with it, is Narrator Brookhead enclosure. It’s oval in plan and there are no obvious structures (such as hut circles) inside it. The outer wall is still thick, but only a single course high.

Once I climb down from the top of Down Tor itself, I’m expecting to see the first of today’s sites. After all, it’s a very well-preserved circle, together with a 350m long row and a terminal stone standing nearly 3m tall. In fact, there’s no sign of it until I head further east. Suddenly I’m over a small crest and practically on top of this megalithic wonder. What a beauty this is! The circle itself is lovely, 12m across and surrounding the remains of a damaged but recognisable central cairn. Another cairn sits a few yards away to the northwest. This really is a terrific site, aided by the splendid isolation I get here today.

And then there’s the row. It extends away to the northeast, heading further into Dartmoor’s magnificent empty space. Clouds race past, drawn towards a convergence over the horizon. At the southwestern end, next to but separate from the circle, the row terminates in a huge upright monolith, almost 3m tall and very thick – it weighs about three tons. Seen from this end, the row appears pretty much straight (which it is). It leads uphill towards another cairn, as well as a small prehistoric enclosure. By the time I reach the northeastern terminal stone, the row appears to curve away back to the cairn circle. This is actually an optical illusion, caused by the gently sloping contours that the row crosses. This weird “not curve” further enhances what is undoubtedly one of the best sites I’ve been to. I still struggle rather with Dartmoor chronology and don’t really know whether the row post-dates the large-scale clearances carried out during the Bronze Age. It’s hard though to imagine creating such a wonderfully designed monument in the middle of trees, where the form could not be easily appreciated.

A friend has a double NT membership which is about to expire so we took advantage of it yesterday morning and set off for Stonehenge quite early.

What can I write about Stonehenge that hasn’t already been written ... its a fantastic ‘landscape’ with Stonehenge itself the centre of barrows scattered in every direction – seeing the landscape from the central perspective of the henge was illuminating. The stones are stately and yes, awe-inspiring; I had to resist the urge to run across the grass and touch them; the avenue is clearly visible leading up to the Heel Stone.

Starlings gathered there in great numbers – perhaps preparing for autumn (thanks for your comment Drew) always a spectacular sight to observe.

I’ve said many times before that I’m not into knocking tourists as I am one myself ... at Stonehenge, however, it is BIG BUSINESS. The site opens to the public at 9.30am – we arrived at 9.40am by 10am the car-park was almost full (lots of coach parties) with hundreds of people milling around. It is almost impossible to experience the scale and grandeur of the Stonehenge landscape in the presence of so many people ... so if you can’t make the ‘out of hours’ visit, arrive at 9.30am and you will have a better overall experience.
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Edit: Just came across this, which is something I wrote on 25/8/09 in reply to Rupert Soskin’s thread on ‘the theory of blood-sports at Stanton Drew’. I add here as a very different visit to the Stonehenge complex.

I had the great treat a month or so back of being taken around the Stonehenge complex by someone called PeteG (who posted here until quite recently). We started at the spring by the river Avon where the Avenue begins, we walked through the Durrinngton Walls site (easy to imagine a village with livestock existing there), walked towards Stonehenge along the Avenue until just the top came into view with no visitors, no cars, and no road visible. It almost felt like ‘time travelling’ (I do have a vivid imagination). Then we walked over to the barrows and along the cursus. Some of it was done by car but all in all we walked a lot of ground and, as you point out in your dvd, it is an enormous site.

What came to life on that occasion was that Stonehenge was part of a community where life was lived on sorts of levels ...for me the midwinter alignments (heel stone and its missing partner) will always make the henge feel like some sort of temple as the midwinter solstice had always been the most important time of the year and why the Christians nicked it ... it was too important to leave lying around.

Finally made it to this site, and it was worth the wait... and the long walk.

Goodaver stands on Smith’s Moor, which is open access land – it’s just getting to this part of the moor that’s the problem. Thanks to some hints on another website:

oliverscornwall.co.uk/bodminmoor.html#Goodaver

... and Google Earth, I managed the long walk to what, I think, is actually one of the best circles in Cornwall.

Here’s how I did it:

Park at the “Y” junction at the bottom of Dozmary Hill (on the Bolventor to Golitha road)

Walk south until you get to Trezibbett Farm. Turn into the farm, then turn IMMEDIATELY left, just past the bridge, and past the rather nice new-build house. Walk past it, and go through/over the gate. There’s a new (but VERY steep) track which arcs around , and joins the old path from the farm almost at the entrance to the moor. This completely bypasses the farm. I’m not ENTIRELY sure if it’s legal, but it worked for me ;) You can see the new track very easily on the latest satellite maps.

You’ll then emerage at a large, green barn. Open the gate here, and you’re on to Smith’s Moor. Turning right; try and hug the lower fence on your right as much as you can.

There’s a long slog ahead; I found that following “sheep tracks” helped, as the ground is VERY uneven, very boggy in places, and there’s also at LEAST one hut circle en-route that will suddenly appear under your feet; the long grass hides how difficult this terrain is. It’s probably not wise to try this after a prolonged wet spell; the hardest part is at the lowest point of the moor, roughly halfway to the circle.

The circle is accurately marked on the OS map, so that part at least is easy. If you’re still following the fence, once you’ve almost approached the brow of the slight hill that lies ahead, turn left; you’ll start to see a few path-ish things here that will lead you to the circle.

The views from Goodaver are worth it alone; Colliford lake and Clay Country stretch out in the distance.

Whatever the innacuracies of the circles reconstruction may be, it’s still an amazing place; perhaps moreso for the pilgrimage necessary to get there!

Hopefully if the new path is a legal route, then Goodaver will take it’s rightful place amongst Kernow’s finest ancient sites. It sort of reminds me of Boscawen-un, without the central stone – just in terms of FEEL, I guess?

On an old farm map we had when we owned that land, that field was named as ‘Maen Scryfes’.

Decided to check on some finds from a few years ago that were photograpehd and recorded in quite dull light, as today was a bit brighter maybe some more motifs would be evident .One thing was immediately apparent was that digger had been in the area ripping up some knolls for rock .Did find some new motifs but at one site I thought I was hallucinating , about 15 metres away was what looked like a kerb stone from an Irish passage grave ,I had spent much of the last week immersed in the stuff or maybe it was the Sally Army bass drum heard earlier (repetitive drumming ) or getting up half an hour earlier (sleep deprivation ) mushrooms from last night (not even shitake never mind anything else ) by the time I got there it was obviously real , maybe the engraver was a 21st C tipper driver high on red bull but if not it’s a bit special .

Dreva Craig – Wednesday 8 September 2010

This site is a cracker. Not least because it nestles on its hilltop, a mere two minute walk from the road (a very handy wee car park and fence stile). The fort is surrounded by many upright stones which form a chevaux de frise along most of the approaches. The chevaux de frise has survived incredibly well considering its closeness to the cleared pasture fields (with their excellent dry stane dykes) which surround it. Once I’d manouevred my way to the tumbled defense walls I found myself staring into the remains of some dwellings which had been inserted into the thick stonework. The view from the highest point inside the fort is spectacular.
There are steep crags which would have needed little in the way of defence construction on the Drumelzier side of the fort. The village of Broughton is only three or four minutes away in the opposite direction but this fort seems more to do with tiny Drumelzier across the Tweed in the valley below.
The twin forts of Tinnis Castle Hill and Henry’s Brae sit perched on their conjoined hilltops across the other side of the Tweed beyond Drumelzier. Below, where the Drumelzier Burn flows into the Tweed, I could see the Whitethorn tree which marks Merlin’s grave. On the way up the Dreva Road, I passed Merlin’s huge, flat-topped altarstone by the roadside at Altarstone Farm. Far below and halfway down the Tweed to the altarstone sits the lonely menhir on Drumelzier Haugh. Folklore, Prehistory, Iron Age, Medieval. A very busy little stretch of my corner of Scotland.

I watched the sun set somewhere over behind the hills near Kilbucho and headed back home for hot chocolate and bed.

Pandemonium on Drumelzier Haugh Thursday 9 September 2010

This is not the easiest stone to get to. The last time I visited was about ten years ago and it was a simple walk across two fields of barley stubble between the stone and the Drumelzier – Dawyck road. Those fields are now under a ten – twelve foot high Willow plantation. When I looked from across the Tweed on Dreva Craig on Wednesday evening I could see the stone occupying a little fenced off corner still under grass.
I parked at a pull-in near Dawyck and started the walk in only to be met by a big herd of very flighty sheep with a big horned ram snorting and stamping at me. I live on a farm and I’m used to livestock, however the beast obviously felt I was a threat to his harem of a hundred ewes so I quickly moved myself to the other side of a fence and continued towards the Tweed. I was then chased by a barrel-bodied pony-horse hybrid which galloped up to me and kept nudging me in the small of my back with her snout. In order to escape Dobbin’s attention-seeking behaviour, I carefully picked my way over a collapsing dry stane dyke injuring my shin and found myself faced with a six foot burn to traverse. Despite a long, limping run and jump I fell short of the far bank and ended up knee deep in the burn. Still a field length to go before I could reach the Tweed and the walk upstream to the stone, I picked up my pace and was met by a gang of stirks as I turned the corner to cut along the last field boundary. These young bullocks were very agitated by my presence and stamped and huffed at me from the other side of a too-low fence. I felt my enthusiasm for the lonely stone trickle away like the stinky water oozing out of my bootlace holes. But I squelched on anyway. The bullocks formed a guard of honour on the far side of the fence and mooed loudly as they accompanied me on the last stretch of my journey to the stone. The sun had already passed behind the steep hills which hem in this lovely valley.
Then the stone was in front of me. What a delight! Lichened, squat and sitting proudly in its little fenced-off reserve, its angular wedge top cocked a snoot at the sky’s dying light. On one of its lower faces, the stone appeared almost glassy, like the blue-ish chert which I keep finding in my tattie patch. Now hemmed in by the willow plantation, the stone is sort of cut off from the wide valley floor which it used to look out on. Did it have any brothers or sisters originally? I could see no tumbled brethren and no big stones re-used in the dyke which propped up the low fence which was still holding back the bullocks. I was surprised to see the ring ditch and soutterain were visible close by in the stone’s little fenced-off reserve. Their outlines were betrayed by deep curving lines of clover growth and they were exactly as they appear on Google Maps.

maps.google.co.uk/maps?hl=en&safe=off&q=drumelzier&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=Drumelzier,+The+Scottish+Borders,+United+Kingdom&ll=55.604846,-3.367385&spn=0.000642,0.001714&t=h&z=19

They proved impossible to photograph from ground level of course.

The return tramp to the car held a similar spate of livestock incidents as my outward journey had and I got wet twice more evading livestock and making unnecessary crossings of what turned out to be a loop in a burn. The fates continued to conspire as an engine warning light and a SRS seatbelt light came on simultaneously en route home. Pandemonium indeed.