Latest Fieldnotes

August Bank Holiday weekend isn’t usually noted for providing much opportunity to exercise the old grey matter... not that there’s anything wrong with the usual cliches, you understand, but I can do without garden centres and barbecues if the opportunity to do something different arises, thanks very much. So a trip to see The Mam C in South Wales is a welcome prospect this morning. Once the customary extreme reluctance to drag myself out of bed is overcome, that is. Today, I decide upon a diversion in Wiltshire en route. As you do.

As Chance notes, the area south of Hungerford could well lay a claim to be ‘long barrow central’, such is the volume of sites to be seen. Arriving early morning at the tiny hamlet of Tidcombe, the deep blue sky promises a beautiful day. A  bridleway – initially of tarmacadam – ascends Tidcombe Down (ha! how our language must confuse the Germans!) to the approx SW, the mutilated, yet nevertheless substantial Tidcombe long barrow itself visible to south-east. The track continues, the surface grass now and sodden with heavy dew which plays havoc with my light boots, crossing a field of golden crop . What looks mightily like the long barrow rises beyond... yet it is in the wrong place according to the map. Hmmm. The route bisects another path and here, to the right, a concrete water tower leads the visitor to an OS trig point near the rogue ‘long barrow’. Aye, ‘tis a reservoir after all. I follow the path downhill towards a copse of trees and a wondrous view, veering across grass to the left. Sure enough a large round barrow is soon visible, an even larger example apparently standing up hill to the south. But no, even in its seriously overgrown state, side ditches proclaim this to be the long barrow, if a somewhat short, long barrow. Right on! A further large round barrow sits in the field below to the west, beyond a herd of somewhat perplexed cows. The beauty of this landscape is spellbinding in this light, not spectacularly so as that of a mountainous region, perhaps, but captivating nonetheless with The Vale of The White Horse on the northern skyline, that of Pewsey the western.

It’s difficult to find somewhere to sit – OK sprawl – amongst the nettles, but, that feat accomplished, what a morning to contemplate ‘stuff’ – human stuff such as relationships and what not – with the moon hanging suspended in an impossibly blue sky. Hey, I swear the insurmountable suddenly seems feasible up here. And why not? For me this is one of the key reasons to visit these wonderful places... clarity of thought. That’s not to say it’s absolutely quiet at Tow Barrow today.. but farmers have gotta do what farmers have gotta do. I’m glad I came.

Walked here today after spending a couple of hours in Randwick Woods looking for the Randwick long barrow. It really was a case of coming out of the shade into the light. After being in woodland the afternoon dazzled; not much to add to thesweetcheat’s excellent fieldnotes other than to comment on the spectacular views, especially looking towards the River Severn.

I also noted that, as with the Wiltshire hillforts, this one appears to be chalkland – odd in the limestone landscape.

Met up with friend MM today (something an expert on the Cotswolds) pointed car towards Stroud and the village of Whiteshill; parked up at Shortwood car park just off the Harefield Road. Having read a bit about the Randwick long barrow hidden in Randwick/Standish Wood we abandoned our planned circular walk and set off to see if we could find the barrow. Not an easy task as, having once been quarried, Randwick Wood is the full of small mounds and dips. We had climbed over a few wooded bumps before we came across a metal National Trust information plaque which was actually headed “More Than Just Lumps and Bumps” (I have posted a photograph of this beautifully made plaque as it is one of the best I have encountered).

It helped us to identify the Iron Age Cross-Dyke, a 2000 year old earthen mound and ditch, the purpose of which can only be guessed at as either defensive or a boundary marker.

And finally with the help of OS Explorer map 179 we found the long barrow – only really identifiable by its alignment of east to west. A Neolithic long barrow dated 4500 – 5400 years old; it was partly excavated in 1883 when human skeletons were found in stone lined chambers.

The Cotswold Way runs through Randwick Wood and I have to say it is one of the most atmospheric and unusual woods I have yet to walk through – apparently full of bluebells in the spring.

This was a nice quiet place when I visited but it has rubbish all over it.

Well, there you are. Stranger things have happened, of course, but not much prepares the seasoned climber for the shock of a pristine dawn upon a South Walian August Bank Holiday Monday.....

So where to go to avoid the fair weather multitudes? Snap judgement made, we head off towards Merthyr and The Sirhowy Valley. Approaching the hamlet of Trefil, it suddenly dawns on me that I was here only last Christmas to visit the great cairns upon Cefn Yr Ystrad. Suffice to say the conditions are as far removed from that wintery expedition as it is probably possible to get, the sun already beginning to beat down as we set off on foot, none too pleased at the brand new gate and signs prohibiting vehicular access much past the village... apparently your car is likely to be confiscated by the police if you disregard the warnings. Surely the heddlu haven’t finally adopted the motto ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’? Needless to say this pedantic action adds another mile each way. Thanks. On a lighter note, however, I’ve forgotten my usual sun hat... so the Mam Cymru has provided a rather fetching Aussie cowboy affair from her allotment shed. Strewth, I must look a right muppet. Well, if the hat fits.....

We follow the Nant Trefil past the Trefil Quarries, great scars upon the landscape which affirm that not all South Wales’ industrial heritage is in the past tense. Then it’s a trackless pull up the hillside to the approx north-east, a family of wild ponies not even bothering to move as a group of noisy trail bikers move pointlessly by at a glacial pace..... ha! ha! Behind us the twin, monumental cairns upon Cefn yr Ystrad crown the hillside – sorry, mountainside – opposite, whilst to the north-west the decapitated summits of Pen y Fan and Corn Du are immediately recognisable. There can be only one. Or perhaps two, then, come to think of it. The going is hard, occasional sheep tracks easing progress somewhat but – as you would expect from such annoying creatures – never actually heading where you want to go. Which is towards two large cairns dead ahead upon the wild summit plateau of Mynydd Llangyndir. The larger, now to our left, appears to be Garn Fawr itself... a real biggie... but we decide to head for a smaller example beside the virtually dry bed of Llyn y Garn-fawr, walking across which is a strange experience indeed. To be honest I’m not sure of the ancient providence of this cairn, but it’s pretty substantial and its siting, not to mention existance would otherwise appear pointless if not of a funerary origin. There can be no doubt, however, about Garn Fawr, which tops the 557m summit of the mountain beyond the (site of) lake. Duh, it’s a monster, subject to the usual ‘hollowing out’, but massive nonetheless. As we climb to have a clamber about, a myriad flies begin to smack into us... naively, it takes the Mam to warn me that these ‘flies’ are actually soldier honey bees and if I don’t move pretty sharpish I am in deep peril! Yes, seriously! This I do, although the blighters allow me to return in a more sedate fashion later on.

So, does this massive cairn pass the siting test? Think of Melanie Griffith in that restaurant scene. Yeah, that’s the one. Apart from the aforementioned Brecon Beacons, The Black Mountains are utterly beguiling across Dyffryn Crawnon to the north, with a certain Garn Caws in the foreground. Say ‘cheese’ as I push the shutter. Eastwards (ish) I can make out the flat lump that is Blorenge together with its elegant Sugar Loaf neighbour, whilst behind us to the south is the great industrial heartland of South Wales. We lie beside this great cairn and somehow the overwhelming ancientness of this mountain top seeps into every pore. Unlike the fierce sun, courtesy of bonzer Aussie hat. A mare guides her foal this way and that with that somewhat impatient tenderness typical of many a mother, bees of the bumble variety are attracted to heather, not Gladman, and all kinds of other insects and arachnids do their thang. Yeah, unlike yesterday, Wales is benign. But up here benign – OK, relatively benign – can be good. Very, very good indeed.

The last two barrows of the day bear no resemblance to each other. The well-known Mayon Cliff cairn, which the coast path passes right next to, is rather lovely. It has a retaining kerb of rounded boulders and the remains of a central cist. A huge longstone lies across the mound, presumably dismounted from a position covering the central burial. Lands End (and its tacky tourist park) is visible, as are the Longships with their lighthouse. By contrast, the round barrow to the NE (assuming I did find it) is simply a low mound, covered in heather and almost imperceptible unless you’re really looking for it. It has no visible stonework at all but is in the correct place based on the OS map and Craig Weatherhill’s “Belerion” description. It is intervisible with the better-preserved cairn.

Escalls cairn sits atop the cliffs, with The Brisons visible offshore to the NNW. The coast path here runs along the base of the cliff, so this barrow is not much visited by the casual passerby, unlike Mayon Cliff for example. It is sited next to a granite outcrop and appears almost a natural feature itself, comprised of large slabs of granite which probably didn’t come from very far away at all. When excavated by W.C. Borlase, a small cist was found containing an urn, together with flints and shells (shells may be local, but flint probably wasn’t). There’s no sign of any of that now, just the outer slabs. Worth a visit and a stop because of its lovely location, where the sky meets the sea and the sea washes the shore. I’ve come over all poetic, so it must be time to head onwards.

I’m not hoping for much from Tregiffian Vean chambered tomb, having only seen the black and white photo in Craig Weatherhill’s essential “Belerion”, in which only the capstone appears above the ploughed surface of the field. In fact, I’m pleasantly surprised, as there is a visible mound and although the capstone is displaced it still rests on upright orthostats. The general shape of the tomb is apparent at any rate. On the downside, the chamber has been blocked with rubble and the top of the tomb has been used to dump what look to be assorted clearance stones. Perhaps not up there with the likes of Brane in terms of condition, but nevertheless a survivor and worthy of the time spent in a visit.

Past the topograph and to the southwest of the chambered tomb, there is an even rarer (and earlier) early Neolithic long cairn. Not many long cairns exist in Cornwall and I’m pretty sure this is the only one in Penwith. I didn’t know it was here the first time we visited, but the new re-print of Cheryl Straffon’s excellent A5 size “Ancient Sites In West Penwith” lists it, otherwise I still wouldn’t be any the wiser. It would be very easy to miss this, as it looks pretty much like a natural rock outcrop. In truth, it appears that the natural rock and the contour of the hill have been incorporated into a long, low mound. The rocks form the south-eastern end of the mound. There are some stones along the sides of the mound, which may indicate that it once had some kind of retaining kerb.

The main draw of the hill, apart from the extensive views, is the rather extraordinary chambered tomb and later cairn, which fills the hilltop and despite much subsequent damage (notably caused by the building of a medieval hermitage and then a radar observation post on top of it) still measures almost 20m across. The original Neolithic chambered tomb has been covered by the later, larger Bronze Age cairn, which accounts for most of the stonework still to be seen. The small intact chamber that can be seen is a secondary cist added when the Bronze Age mound was constructed. I manage to squeeze inside and get back out again without damage to the tomb or (more likely) myself. This is a terrific monument even in its damaged condition and definitely worth coming to visit. It provided us with the perfect location for Midsummer lunch and general chilling out.

This Is Very Steep... site visit – after tea – Monday 30 August 2010

The best approach to Arbory Hillfort is to take the minor road (Station Road) from Abington village and drive over the railway bridge and cross the River Clyde. Take a left turn at the junction after the caravan site, drive on for another third of a mile and pull in at the parking area on the left. Cross the road and head along the very straight track across the field below and to the right of Arbory Hill. This isn’t the mighty Roman Road from Crawford Fort (it descends further up ahead). This field track ends in a large levelled area across a small burn from the foot of Arbory Hill. Descend to the burn, step across and start the climb.
It is steep.
Very steep.
Very, very steep.
I found myself having to stop for breath regularly and look South. I couldn’t help it as the massive road terrace scar of Roman engineering had started to become a magnet for my gaze every time I stopped (which was a lot). It was seven o’clock or so when I started up from the burn and it took half an hour of hard climbing (with breathers) to get to the first line of the defences at the hilltop. The summit is at 1400 feet. The climb feels like twice that.

maps.google.co.uk/maps?hl=en&ie=UTF8&ll=55.496588,-3.672078&spn=0.001288,0.003428&t=h&z=18

Arbory Hillfort is a mighty construction. The first scarped rampart bank is around a two metre climb up from the outer ditch. At one point it was easily three metres up. The ditch here is littered with tumbled stonework from the first rampart wall and some of these stones are large (5’ x 3’ x 2’ was the largest I saw tumbled into the outer ditch). There are about five yards between the first rampart and the next ditch. The rise to the top of the next rampart is around another three metres up from the second ditch. You are now in the interior of the original fort. But five or six yards ahead lies yet another rampart which was inserted into the older fort at a later date.

This next rampart is not another steep grassy stony bank but an incredible eight or nine metre wide spread of tumbled stone which still stands around two metres high in places around its original wall line. This near circular stone rampart was originally three metres wide and must have been at least that height. There are two entrances both less than two metres wide.
I sat on the wall of one of the circular cell-like buildings built into this central stony rampart and looked across Upper Clydesdale as the setting sun turned everything a delicate orangey- brown. There was a distant hum from the M74 and the sounds of dogs barking in Raggengill Kennels far below. A buzzard soared above me, wheeling and staring down at me. There are a number of rather enigmatic features in this hillfort.
1. A series of circular, stone built chambers (about the size of a small room). Their walls stand to a height of two metres in some of them. One of them is around twenty feet long and rectangular with a rounded end. There are a series of much smaller scale ones just two or three feet across. The farm below the hill is called Cold Chapel and I wondered about those little stone chambers…
2. A row of cairns, facing West, built along the edge of the second rampart. They initially look like they have to be fairly modern but are well lichened and fast in the peat which has grown here. They stand up like a row of teeth. They are perhaps three to four feet across at the bottom and rise to four feet high or so.

The sun dropped behind Drake Law and Craighead Hill to the West and very quickly a deepening dusk sent me clambering down the steep slopes back to the present day. Arbory is an incredible construction. Atmospheric and enigmatic. I reached my car and drove home to cocoa, biscuits and a well deserved early night full of dreams about the strangeness of Arbory.

Visited 28.8.10
Very easy to find and access in the village of Brinklow. Take the first turning right after the church (heading north through the village) and you will shortly come to a small parking area at the base of the mound. There is a wooden sign stating that this is the site of Brinklow Castle (Norman Motte and Baily) and access is via a wooden gate. Straight up the mound/motte and surprisingly good views all around await you. Worth a visit when in the area.

Visited 28.8.10.
This is an odd one. Looks like either an animal water trough (although it is about 1 metre square in shape) or a large font? On one side there appears to be a ‘channelled out’ bit which clearly had some sort of purpose? It is sat on top of a small mound in a field right next to the busy A45. Easy to find (just follow directions given by Wrekin) although you need to be careful crossing the A45 – the central reservation helps a lot! Access to the field is easy – over the gate to the left of the houses and the small mound is immediately to your left. Just myself and the sheep in the pouring rain!

Bronze Age barrow – marked as “Tumulus” on OS maps. Easily seen from the road side in the corner of the field between the small corpse of trees and the road, around 15m in diameter and 1m high.

One reference (see below) states this is a “roman barrow” and that it was excavated by the University of Manchester in 1936 but I can find no no other references to back this up. Claims of grave goods – “there was a pot inside with all the jewels in the middle” in this reference but again references to back this up.

Checked with “Barrows of the Peak District: Recent research, Barnett & Collins, 1996” and there is no record there of any excavations at this site so nothing to back up the roman point above.

I visit Barbury Castle whenever the opportunity presents itself; not that easy to get to without a car so I am always on the lookout for local walks/events that take place or start from there.
Apart from being a scheduled ancient monument it is also a designated local nature reserve. A couple of Sundays ago fellow member of the Wiltshire Wildlife Trust gave me a lift up there to participate in a field talk on butterflies. I’ve never attended anything like this before so had some inital reservations – it was however, very enjoyable. I learnt that Barbury is ‘managed’ in order to encourage blue butterflies – the Common Blue and Blue Adonis in particular, although we saw many other varieties.
The views are spectacular, especially on the far side of the ramparts which overlook rolling Wiltshire downland. It is also the starting point for a ten mile walk along the Ridgeway into Avebury. Haven’t yet done it, but soon ...

swindon.gov.uk/barbury

The kerbing is nice innit. !
Worth a look if your in the area, and not far to walk from the road.

A new path has been cut across the moor and passes with in 150 metres or so of the circle and the barrow.
They’ve basically mown a 3 metre wide section through the heather and bilberry.
At one point the path seems to end, but carry on a few metres and you’ll find it again, you’ll still have to keep your eyes peeled for the barrows though, then head off the path towards it through the heather.
This is by far the easiest access i’ve known to the area of the monuments.

The fourth of the Penwithian circles, Merry Maidens usually leaves me a bit disappointed. Its easy access makes it busy and also takes away some of the atmosphere, for me. There’s no moorland walk, no secluded space, just a field next to the road. That said, the circle itself is lovely and it is very pretty. Today, there are cars parked up and a couple dowsing in the circle. I walk around the circle and renew acquaintances with it, but don’t linger.

Situated two fields north of the Boscawen path, this tall and shapely stone stands over 2.5m tall, but is easily missed as it is out of site of the path. It does not stand straight, as the natural shape of the stone curves gently. Truthfully, it’s rather phallic looking from some angles. Landscape views are even more restricted from here than from the Blind Fiddler, due to the agricultural surroundings that make up the lower areas of West Penwith.

Past the farm buildings (where I was once bitten on the bum by a goose, while G/F made her laughing escape), the tracks heads west and becomes more enclosed – not the overgrown state of a few years ago though. Anticipation builds, as it always does when approaching a circle. I wonder whether there will be anyone else there? It’s three days to the solstice, when no doubt the circle will be alive with ritual of one sort or another, but I am in luck today and as I reach the wooden gate into the secluded enclosure, I see that it is empty. Fantastic! I’ve never been here on my own before, and never in such terrific weather. My memories of summer Boscawen are usually of either rain or hordes of weekend pagans, so this is a real treat. Julian’s daughter is dead right; the quartz stone is such a draw. You may be interested to know that the central pillar provides just enough shade to escape from the midday sun if you squeeze right up under it. Time passes.

They say that mountains make their own weather... well, I’m no meteorologist, but I can certainly see the logic in that following a wonderfully changeable afternoon upon Tair Carn Uchaf, extreme variations in light, shadow, colour contrast and visibility all helping to accentuate the visitor’s appreciation of the three great Bronze Age cairns which surmount this obscure minor mountain at the western fringes of Y Mynydd Du.

These monuments first came to my attention last Easter whilst braving the elements – with the Mam Cymru – upon the great Carn Pen-y-Clogau to the north east. Perhaps this is not so surprising, since the more I see of these upland burial cairns, the more it is apparent to me that, unlike their Neolithic predecessors, these Bronze Age funerary cairns were designed to be ‘seen’ from upon high. To be honest, unless you were specifically looking – a suicidal tendency when driving upon Welsh mountain roads, it has to be said – you wouldn’t be any the wiser from valley bottom in most cases. Such is the case here, the map essential to pinpoint the start of the walk from the minor road to the north-west of the peak.

We start off up a gated, quarry track, this soon degenerating into the barest of grassy paths, the bulk of the mountain rising above and beyond whilst the sky threatens, but never actually delivers, anything more than brief scatterings of raindrops. Briefly two large cairns crown the skyline... then they are gone. Having negotiated a short stretch of bog, tracks made by the farmer’s quad bike ease the heathery ascent to the crest of the ridge above. As we approach, a large cairn is visble away to our left... heh, heh, this looks worthwhile. Then the two massive examples suddenly rear up on the skyline and I’m gobsmacked. Suffice to say that although I manage to keep my balance under the sudden onslaught of the wind, metaphorically speaking I’m lying there thinking of England.... er, I mean... Wales. As you do.

The miscellaneous Coflein post has the technical details, but can’t begin to convey the sense of place here. Sure, the easternmost of the trio has been ‘hollowed out’...by muppets unknown... in the standard fashion... but the two others are massive and virtually intact. To sit upon them within the maelstrom and view the sunlight racing across the mountainside is to perhaps grasp some insight, however small and fleeting, into what inspired – nay, drove – people millennia ago to labour to construct these gigantic piles of rock to honour their dead up here. Yeah, exactly. Where else is suitable once you experience it? Think of a Turner painting... ha! You wouldn’t picture Valhalla in the car park of the local B&Q, would you? Unless you read the Daily Mail, that is.

Smaller cairns are visible upon Tair Carn Isaf to the southwest, but we decide to save these for another day, such is the pull of this place... the aforementioned Carn Pen-y-Clogau leads the eye northwestwards towards the great, be-cairned central summits of Y Mynydd Du and the feeling that all fits together in one grand scheme is overwhelming. We must donne full waterproofs and seek the lee to keep out a vicious weather front which reduces visibility to virtually zero in a matter of seconds, the other cairns looming through the swirling cloud as if struggling to tell their stories from beyond the mists of time. Then, sunshine bursts through and light cirrus clouds are suddenly floating in a pristine blue sky, Carreg Cennen looking sensational to the north west, all the while the wind powerful enough to batter the living daylights out of us. What an invigorating, primeval experience! Four hours is not enough... but sadly we must leave. A rabbit, I think, bolts into its hole, not unlike our own ragged psyches, I guess. Until the next time.

Back on the A30, I head WSW along the verge until the turn for Boscawenoon farm appears. Right next to the farm track, the pointy bulk of Bowscawen-Un hedge stone looms. Despite its rather everyday setting, this is a huge stone. Its triangular shape wouldn’t necessarily mark it out as an obvious choice for a standing stone, so perhaps it was erected here on a spot close to its natural setting.

This magnificent stone stands over 3m tall, one of the tallest in the peninsula. It’s one of those stones that assumes an entirely different character from each angle, being very thin on the southwest/northeast faces and broad and tapering on the others. The views are somewhat restricted by hedges and trees, and apart from Sancreed Beacon it doesn’t appear to be intervisible with any other obvious prehistoric sites (I’m not sure if the Drift stones would be visible if you removed all the intervening hedges). Great stone though.

The bus drops me off at Drift crossroads and I have a not very enjoyable 200yds or so along the verge of the A30 itself. My objective is the pair of stones to the southwest, sometimes called The Sisters, which I’ve seen from the bus before but never visited. They stand in a cultivated field immediately adjacent to the A30. I’m fortunate with the timing of my visit, as the crop has obviously been recently harvested, leaving the stones clear of obstruction. Their location is on sloping ground, above and to the west of a little valley that eventually reaches the sea at Lamorna Cove, which is coincidentally my final destination for the days walk. This sloping ground allows views across the farmland to the east and round to the southwest, where St Buryan church tower is clearly visible.

These are two impressive stones, both over 2m tall. The southeast stone is the pointier of the two, with a natural crevice running diagonally across its southeast face and providing a home for snails out of the fierce sun. The northwest stone is patched with the yellow lichen that adorns many of the Brecon Beacons’ stones. I’m really pleased to have finally visited this excellent pair, despite the less than ideal road-walk to get to them.

Visited 16.6.2010 on a day-trip to Tresco on the Scillonian ferry. The boat across from St Marys dropped us off at Carn Near, the southern point of the island, which put us as far from Castle Down as it was possible to be.

It was a lovely walk under blue skies along the eastern edge of the island, and the views across to St Helen’s, Round Island and Northwethel from Gimble Porth are beautiful. We climbed up to the Down from its eastern side (Tregarthen Hill) and a prehistoric landscape opens out. Unfortunately it’s very heather-covered, making it difficult to see what’s what. There are 78 cairns on the downs, but most are simply lumps in the heather. A nice prehistoric field boundary does break free of the vegetation and as we head northwest across the Down we do manage to find a decent cairn with surrounding kerb and then what looks like a small capstone protruding from another be-heathered cairn.

Unfortuately our time is rather limited and in going up to have a look around the 16th century King Charles’s castle (which predates the monarch of the same name by the best part of a century), we don’t have time to seek out the entrance grave up on the west side of Tregarthen Hill. Still, it’s a great spot on a nice day and we’ll have to come for longer another time.

As we head back towards New Grimsby, we pass another prominent cairn towards the southern end of the Down. New Grimsby has a rather lovely modern megalithic folly, with a kerbed quoit (mini-Chun) and several standing stones, overlooking the harbour. From there we headed off to Tresco Abbey Gardens, with its holed stone.

It seems that the majority of visitors to the island come to see the Gardens and the little town, so Castle Down is a nice quiet spot even on a lovely sunny summer’s day.