Latest Fieldnotes

OODIIINN!! Hell, I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis (with Bronx accent – right on!) in that dodgy ‘Vikings’ film as a kid...

I wake at my Whiteadder camp to torrential rain, Scotland’s way of reminding me not to become complacent, I guess. Needing an ‘easy’ site to visit before the long journey back to Essex, I choose Edin’s (or, surely, Odin’s) Hall, a Historic Scotland charge recommended in Anna and Graham Ritchie’s ‘Oxford Archaeological Guide’. That’ll do nicely, then. Taking the (un-signposted) Abbey St Bathans road from the A6365, I’m immediately tail-gated by some fool in one of those ‘cut price, budget moron-mobiles’.... all tacky spoiler and ‘broom, broom’ exhaust. Just managing to squeeze myself off the road beside the obscure public footpath signpost, another clown passes by, sounding his horn, then another and another. I mean, how was I to know a rally is being held in Duns today named after some Jim Clark bloke. Whatever.... it takes all sorts, I guess.

The scenic, waymarked path descends sharply, via steps, to riverside before climbing away to arrive at the site in approx a mile. The first thing to strike this visitor is a) the size of the broch and then; b) the fact that there is a broch here at all.... in Lowland Scotland. Yeah, it’s certainly a biggie. Too big, in fact, to have plausibly risen to any great height in its heyday, I’d suggest having had more of a low, but incredibly solid, ‘blockhouse’ profile than that of an elegant, Mousa ‘cooling tower’ (not that I’ve been to Mousa yet, I must admit). The drystone walls are immensely thick (we’re talking Norman donjon here) with the usual storage chambers, mural stairway and guard chambers incorporated within. The entrance way is pretty ‘solid’, too, with a cyclopean vibe.

However, perhaps the greatest surprise for me is the extent – and multivallate nature – of the surrounding ramparts of the hillfort. To the west these are very substantial, indeed, and still pretty well preserved to east and south. The broch itself, defended by its own rampart, is set to the north in the most defensible position. Nice. Within the enclosure stand several round houses, one covering a very large area and therefore suggesting a hall or, perhaps, the former residence of the ‘Big Man’? Possibly.

Artificial defences were enhanced by the choice of highly defensible site, a steep drop to the Whiteadder Water rendering an assault from north or east more or less impractical. These people obviously knew what they were doing, so I can only conclude that the dominating hillfort, upon Cockburn Law to the south west, was either occupied by a skeleton garrison of ‘lookouts’, or was not occupied concurrently.

Finally, I guess I should emphasise what a gorgeous location this is, towering above a loop in the Whiteadder Water. Lack of time rules out a visit to Cockburn Law, but Edin’s Hall is a fine, somewhat unexpected way to end this tour.

Blimey. This is one hell of a long cairn, is it not? In fact, in a country chock-a-block with long cairns – albeit somewhat lacking in the vicinity – these Mutiny Stones form the longest long cairn I’ve seen this side of the incomparable Auchenlaich.

To stand at the head (or tail) of this truly monumental construction, despite the robbing of material to erect adjoining sheep folds and, shamefully, terminally moronic grouse butts, is to gawp in open mouthed wonder at the sheer human effort it must have taken to make the Neolithic vision a reality. I have no words. No, really, I don’t... and if it wasn’t for the conditions, I’d take off my hat to these people in recognition of what they achieved upon this desolate moor. A wobbly salute must suffice instead......

The standard route to the Mutiny Stones would appear to be along the Killpallet track to the north; however, nursing a somewhat ‘tender’ ankle (the result of too much cairn climbing, I guess) I decide to approach from the south. Hey, it looks shorter on the map, so it does. A very minor road leaves the Longformacus road and penetrates the fastness of the hills as far as Byrecleugh Farm, following the course of Dye Water. I ask permission to park here – permission readily granted by the very tall farmer – and set about making a complete hash of my map reading, descending from the track to investigate what appears to be a long cairn to my left. In my defence, it is a long cairn, but of the ‘field clearance variety’ only.

In retrospect, follow the road past Byrecleugh Farm to several more assorted dwellings, where you will be faced with a triple junction of tracks. Take the centre of these, climbing away to your right. A wide valley opens up to your left, with the aforementioned ‘clearance cairn’ visible on the far bank of the river. Ignore this – but not the view – and take the next, somewhat obscure right, following the left hand bank of a stream, a tall, spindly cairn visible upon Pyatshaw Ridge above to your right. The long cairn will soon come into view and is unmistakeable.

Set upon the south eastern slopes of Byrecleugh Ridge, the monument is surrounded by water courses – perhaps significantly so – with Dye Water to the south, Byrecleugh Burn to the east/north and Brock’s Cleugh to the west. Here, silence is total in the absence, today, of any ‘mighty’ shotgun wielding hunters. Nobut’s post has the technical stuff; suffice to say those who like their monuments to be somewhat ‘remote’ will love it here. Plonk yourself down upon the surprisingly wide head of the monument and simply enjoy one of the longest of Scotland’s long cairns....

A glance at the map reveals something perhaps not readilly apparent about this interesting stone circle; namely that, to all intents and purposes, it is very nearly set upon the summit of an island.

Come again? Well, with Whiteadder Water to the east, Hazelly Burn to the north, Kingside Burn blocking an approach from the south and, together with the course of South Grain, leaving a relatively small gap to south west, I’d suggest a pretty strong case can be put forward for water having had a decisive impact upon the siting of this monument. The aforementioned Kingside Burn ensures that travellers making their way to the site from the B6355 will need to donne waterproof boots to maintain a degree of decorum. It is not the most inspiring of approaches, power pylons leading the eye towards a large group of wind turbines crowning the horizon. Head uphill towards the left hand half dozen of these and finding the ‘circle shouldn’t be an issue.

Unusually for these ‘numerically named’ sites, I actually count nine stones upon this desolately wild hilltop. That’ll be right, then. My schooling wasn’t entirely wasted (although I do happen to have enough fingers and thumbs, it has to be said). The orthostats are generally large and of varied profile, although now arranged in a far from classic circle... I guess ‘ragged’ would be a fair description? Dishevelled, even. Nevertheless Nine Stone Rig possesses a great vibe and is just the place to come and hang out on the penultimate day of a long tour. Sure, the all too obvious symbols of literal modern power do affect your perception of the landscape, but the abstract ‘power’ of this ancient monument continues to assert a hold upon the psyche of those individuals susceptible to such things. I’m a sucker, I guess.

Good for you, Nine Stone Rig! And for us who still want to ‘feel’.

I ‘visited’ this site last year when I was in the Chepstow area. Surrounded by the River Wye on two sides and Chepstow Racecouse on the other, there appears to be no public right of way to this tree covered hillfort. I drove up the small track off the B4228 north of Broadrock which runs alongside another small hillfort (not much to see – pretty much just a field). There are several parking places along the track which afford good views across the river. Unfortunately the only thing you will see is trees!

At Pennan, the Local Hero village, travel south on the minor road for two miles, past the Cummertown cairns, until a radio mast can be seen to the east. At that point on the western side their is a forked track, take the track that goes in a south westerly direction. Follow this for a 1/2 mile and then its cross country. I headed straight east, the heather is knee deep until the first small valley. Fortunately the stream is dry so I followed the bed north which leads to the Stormy Burn. This is more of a bog so watch were you place your feet. The climb at the other side is short and very steep. Head east again, cross another burn, climb a fence and make for the top of the hill then turn south. The fort is in the junction of three valleys being located in a very beautiful place.

Canmore have fortunately put up aerial foties (see links) which gives a good idea of the forts shape. The east and west ramparts are just visible but are crowned with ferns and whin bushes, the entrance to the fort being in the north. Various hut circles are nearby so another visit will be required. However the fort is still used. As I walked thru the fort a wily badger watched me the whole time from underneath a jabby thing. Only hiding when I tried to take a fotie. Deer ran about the forts interior and to the northern side foxes ran about playing in the heather. This is an unspoilt part of the NE so I hope it stays that way.

So after some quality silence it was time to head back. After seeing some red squirrels at the first burn crossing things went somewhat pear shaped. As well as getting lost it was beginning to get dark. Eventually I found a path heading in a north easterly direction but my luck had ran out. The previously mentioned Stormy Burn had a victim as I stumbled down the steep bank and landed up to my waist in water and boggy muck. What mess and what a stink. The walk to the car being a squelchy nightmare. At least I had towels, water and a change of clothes in the car!

Visited 23/06/2010.

What a site to end the day with.... following on from Chesters and Traprain Law, this compact, yet powerful little hillfort is perhaps my favourite of the trio.

The setting is classic, the ‘fort strategically positioned to command what surely must have been an ancient track above Thorter Burn, this leading down to the coast from the uplands to the south, hills now utilised by human-kind to fill the Whiteadder Reservoir. Full use is also made of the defensive potential of the landscape, three (count ‘em) substantial ramparts protecting the relatively easy approach to the approx circular enclosure from the south and east, a more or less sheer drop to the burn all that was really necessary at north and west.

The view northwards from the ramparts is exquisite, the conical Iron Age hillfort of Berwick Law visible beyong the aforementioned volcanic, whaleback ridge of Traprain Law itself. Bass Rock glimmers in the evening sunshine, Edinburgh – as its name suggests, another one time Iron Age hillfort – visible far left. An extensive former Iron Age community, no less, although whether the inhabitants of White Castle were on friendly terms with all is, I guess, open to debate. Suffice to say they certainly appear to have known what they were doing when it came to personal defence, unlike the occupiers of the not too distant Chesters.

Access to this wonderful site is about as easy as you could wish for, a minor road leaving the B6355 a little to the west of Whiteadder Reservoir and closely bypassing the monument, en-route to Garvald.

This is one of those sites where the reputation of the place precedes it... the traveller feeling compelled to visit. This volcanic extrusion (hark at me!) certainly offers a spectacular profile, rising seemingly virtually from sea level upon the coastal plain, albeit a profile somewhat defaced by quarrying at the north-eastern end... why, oh why, oh why? Clearly this was an obvious site to establish a hillfort, both from a military perspective and, judging from Neolithic artefacts recovered here, possessing the necessary ‘otherworldly’ attributes, too. ‘Sacred Hill’, indeed.

The summit is most easilly gained via a path from the ‘official’ car parks below the northern flank, a short, reasonably steep climb. Outcrops of volcanic rock afford natural defence to the southern flank, so the surviving lines of drystone rampart protect the former, circling around the hillside to the west. Although not particularly impressive nowadays, relatively speaking, clearly this was once a powerful fortress, bearing in mind the topography. The summit of the mountain itself features the standard OS trig point and, of far greater importance, what I take to be the remnants of the kerb of a former Bronze Age cairn? Or is that being a little too fanciful?

As you might expect from such an isolated, coastal hill, Traprain Law is a stunning viewpoint. It really is. To the north, the stupendous curtain wall of Tantallon Castle is just visible before the – frankly bizarre – Bass Rock, with the equally noteworthy hillfort of Berwick Law to its left. Edinburgh crowns the approx western horizon, while the southern aspect is that of agriculture, the very basis of Iron Age wealth.

As I sit, an elderly, local man comes over for a chat. He is attired in ‘formal’ shoes and a cardie and comments upon how cold the wind is for May. ‘You don’t say?’ thinks I, clad in fleece and Gortex. ‘Yeah, I lost my wife to pneumonia this February’, he adds... ‘always wanted to come up here’... and the poignancy of this moment floors me like the proverbial sledgehammer blow to the head. Thankfully the old gent sets off back down before a vicious hail front sweeps in to give me a fearsome battering that is anything but ‘proverbial’. It is primeval, invigorating, somewhat un-nerving and more eloquent than I can ever be in describing this hilltop. It IS Traprain Law.

Chester minute... what do we have here? A large Iron Age hillfort, protected by impressive, multivallate ramparts seemingly straight outta Wessex, not lowland Scotland. I would suggest one Iron Age warlord may well have travelled ‘down south’ and picked up a few ideas, in much the same way Crusaders returned to these shores, straining at the bit to employ the ideals of concentric fortification in stone. Then again, perhaps not.

Whatever the truth, the fundamentals of the great Wessex hillforts are present and correct in the shape of towering ramparts, with attendant ditches, and lavishly protected entrance ways, here to east and west. There would appear to be two main ramparts, supplemented by additional defences where thought necessary. I count four to the north, but then that could just be my lamentable arithmetic. As mentioned, the architects really pulled out the stops at the entrances, although whether the over-riding factor here was to overawe and impress the visitor, or actually thwart a surprise assault is a moot point. Accusations of all-important symbolism are given credence by the very siting of the fortress at the mercy of extensive high ground to the south. This begs a simple question. Why? I go and take a look, concluding that there would appear to be no obvious reason why a large, very powerful fortress could not have been built up here instead.

Having said that it must be emphasised that Chester is a ‘proper’ fortress, albeit an ill-placed one where the owner was either a) stark, raving bonkers or b) reckoned he was too powerful to ever be challenged and therefore didn’t want the inconvenience of living on a hill. The site also raises ongoing questions about the ritualistic function of hillforts, too. Was defence ever the prime factor, or did the very act of enclosing an area with earthern banks represent an Iron Age attempt to update the symbolism inherent in the Neolithic henge?

Leaving these big questions aside – for now – I simply enjoy a stroll around the circumference, noting the sites of many former round houses, some overlaying the main ramparts so therefore obviously later additions. It is a good place to be.

I visited this site last year. I parked as close as I could to the top of the hill and then started the long walk up. It was a hot day and by the time I reached the top I was knackered! Easy to find – just head for the large arial. Good views when on top.

So, just how do you follow a visit to such a complex, multi-phase monument as Cairnpapple, then? My solution is to go for the polar opposite, in many respects. ‘Chalk’ to the aforementioned’s ‘cheese’, so to speak.

So, the A702 leaves the A720 Edinburgh by-pass and heads approx SW, beneath some pretty interesting hills – one none other than the mighty Castle Law (oh for more time...) – towards West Linton. A little beyond this small town, a minor road eventually arrives within the yard of Garvald Farm. A collapsed wall is in the process of being repaired by a group of people who suddenly surround my car. I have no desire to be carted off into a Wicker Man, so jump out to state my purpose and so take control of the situation... only to find my would be ‘attackers’ are actually ‘special needs’ people on a farm visit. I feel an inch tall, and rightly so. What a muppet. The farmer, not exactly a shrinking violet, it must be said, is intrigued by my intention to visit the North Muir cairns (or possibly simply takes pity on me) and readily agrees to me parking within his yard. Right on!

In actual fact the road continues to Medwynbank Farm to the NE, but the walk beside Garvald Burn is pleasant, the tarmac reverting to unmade track and passing to the left of a small lake prior to striking out across the moor. The aforementioned burn has cut a deep gulley to my right, North Muir Hill and Mendick Hill flanking the valley to left and right respectively. So where are the cairns, then? Nether Cairn is not long coming... and it looks an absolute beauty... but I decide to carry on to the Upper Cairn first of all.

Although somewhat ravaged, no doubt through the attentions of generations of ‘stone hungry’ farmers, the monument is still very substantial and in not bad nick, all things considered. I climb to the summit to find that, curiously, its neighbour is visible from here, but not from down below. Mere coincidence, or by design? I stay for approx an hour as the weather turns... and how! A front of vicious hail sweeps in and I search my rucksack in vain for gloves. Doh! They say every cloud has a silver lining, but here the lining is, literally, comprised of every colour of the rainbow. Dawkins is right. Even though I understand how it is formed, the wonder is never diminished. Simple things bring such pleasure, eh?

None more so than a great, conical pile of stones known as Nether Cairn to which I now make my way. Greywether is spot on, this is a truly perfect round cairn, virtually intact. The siting, upon this wild (tell me about it!) wind, hail and sun-swept moor ensures just about the perfect vibe. What more is there to say? If perfectly formed round cairns are your thing you won’t do any better than Nether Cairn and its ‘ugly’ sister.

Come, it is time to keep your appointment with the North Muir cairns.....

Cairnpapple. One of those places I knew I really should go to, but... well, other sites always seemed to get the nod instead. Mainly, I think in retrospect, because of that bloody concrete dome. It’s not the only site to possess one, of course, but a dimly lit passage grave can, more often than not, carry it off with no discernable loss in vibe. In fact a discrete, modern roof can add to the experience, recreating something of how it may have felt to enter the original monument. Herein lies the problem, however: Cairnpapple is not a passage grave, yet visitors are invited to assume it is such. Having said that, it’s all too easy to be wise after the event, and Piggott’s post war excavation has nevertheless revealed to us a fascinating monument, indeed. Thank you sir, you did what you thought was right for the benefit of generations to follow, adding immeasurably to our knowledge of henges and whatnot. Hey, that’s what your generation fought the Nazi tyranny for, was it not?

The hilltop location is spectacular, with a far reaching vista encompassing green hills, industrial areas, The Firth of Forth and the distant high peaks of Tayside etc. Sure, the telecom antennae’s out of place, but I can live with that. The custodian’s pretty special, too; the tourist spiel is, for once, delivered with conviction and... dare I say it.... a clear love of her charge. I pay her the attention it deserves and learn a thing or two in the process. Such as what a complex monument Cairnpapple really is, linear phases of activity emphasising that man really considered this to be a seriously important spot. These phases have been left ‘exposed’ to be viewed concurrently, sort of like looking at one of those cutaway drawings of an aircraft.... that’s not how it actually looked, but isn’t it good to see how it works? In summary – according to the latest thinking – Cairnpapple began life as a two entrance henge, the ditch still well defined to the north and east, with a circle of 24 massive posts placed somewhat off-centre. Within, an alignment of much larger diameter holes may well have held some sort of timber equivalent of a long cairn’s facade related to the major burial upon this hilltop, known as North Grave. To view this tomb, punters must climb steps to the summit of the grassed dome and descend by ladder inside.

The significant infiltration of light from a large skylight helps to dispel the passage grave misconception, since the rock cut grave was in fact only covered by a small cairn. The surrounding kerb stones remind me of teeth set within a lower jaw, the whole dominated by a large, leaning monolith immediately reminding me of a similar arrangement at Dunruchan. Close by sits a large cist with impressive capstone. I sit and ponder within the peculiar, clammy atmosphere of the dome. Apparently the cist, plus another, now lost, were later additions covered by a larger cairn taking in the North Grave, too. The modern dome follows the approx line of this cairn and preserves the retaining kerb. The silence is broken by the custodian.... ‘Oh, you’re still here... people normally don’t stay this long...’. No doubt they don’t.

Outside it begins to rain, but this is of no consequence... since I am now truly enthralled. Ah, the final phase, a massive diameter, low cairn covering a good proportion of the interior of the henge and possessing a fine kerb of large stones. Why do that. I mean cover all the preceding burials and insert your own? To instigate new traditions without actually destroying the old? Hmm. We could learn a lot from these people, me thinks. Finally, last but not least, four apparently christian graves inserted into the eastern bank of the henge. Old habits die hard, eh?

I leave Cairnpapple Hill somewhat dazed, but mighty glad I finally came. True, it is not a great ‘hang’ in my opinion – the dome sees to that – but it certainly exercises the grey matter.

Came here again after nearly 8 years,it’s still there but the area is getting very overgrown.When I got back to Zennor the farmer congratulated me on my achievement.

I spent a week on the Isle of Lewis and visited all the stone sites but the main Callanish site was breathtakingly beautiful. I spent a day with Margaret Curtis and we toured the stones and talked for hours. She is so knowledgable about the stones and she has great insights. The were lots of midges and that was frustrating but it didn’t take away any of the magic of the place.
I wne back again the next evening to see the sunset and we were the only people there- it was wonderful to have time alone at the site. I’m really looking forward to going back.
Next time I plan to meet with Jill Smith, author of The Callanish Dance.

20th June 2010
Experienced a magical time at Sunkenkirk as we were the only ones there. Plenty of friendly cows who like to scratch themselves on the stones. I slept there for about an hour and woke feeling refreshed. It’s a wondeful and peaceful site and because it’s slightly out of the way – it’s not popular -which makes it a dream place to spend the solstice. I had a wondeful day!

From the first Hill Of Cairns cairn keep walking in a south westerly direction. Somehow this cairn still remains.......just. A wall has been built thru the middle of it, a fence also does the same, field clearance has been dumped on top as well as trees plus cow damage. Just about everything that could be done to it has been done. Still it remains at 14 meters wide with a top height of less than a meter. Some of the original cairn material remains and it would be a safe bet if there was a kerb it would still be here, unfortunately ripped up and flung amongst the clearance. Unfortunately no rock art on the dumped rocks.

Sometimes I wonder why the ancient peoples built their monuments. When I turned round to a see mist covered Knock Hill I found out.

Visited 21/06/2010.

Head east towards Rothiemay on the B9117 taking the 3rd minor road north. Follow this road to the top and pull in at the forestry commission track. These are the same directions for the Cairns of Beith, for them follow the track south. For the hill of cairns head in a south westerly direction.

There are no paths so take care in amongst the ferns and forest waste. Keep going for a 1/2 mile and the cairn be found in a small forest clearing. It is some 15 meters wide and possibly 1 meter tall. Unfortunately it has been badly damaged by the foresters. But somehow it survives but like almost 30 other cairns, in the immediate area, it will eventually vanish.

Visited 21/06/2010.

I have posted a map to show a nice way of walking round the different monuments in this area, starting with the (Upper) White Horse Stone. It must have been awful to have been here when the Eurostar link was being built, but now, the dust has settled, and wild flowers have grown over the banks around the tunnel, from which the occasional train whizzes forth.

Over the hill we came, across the bridge over the railway line, and then up a wooded path between two fields, and to our left we saw the dark eyes and flaring nostrils of the great, oblong sarsen stone, that was nicknamed ‘the Western Sphynx’, but is probably the back-stone of a Neolithic burial chamber. Just near it are some other pieces of sarsen stone – other parts of this burial chamber, maybe.

Two lost monuments were nearby, both destroyed by 19th century farmers to make way for their ploughs: ‘Smythe’s Dolmen’ was in the field that you see when you stand under the trees, looking at the White Horse Stone. The other lost stone(s), the Lower White Horse Stone or ‘Kentish Standard Stone’ was in the field behind you. Both may once have been burial chambers too: the former contained two human skeletons and the skull of a mole.

Kit’s Coty is in the most beautiful location: it is certainly near a lot of transport links, but it isn’t spoiled by them at all. We sat up by the standing stones, the last remnants of this great longbarrow, gazing out across the meadow, over the Medway Valley to the scarp of the downs on the other side, that mark the location of the Coldrum Longbarrow. After a while, a New Age-ish couple turned up and started decorating the railings that surround the stones with flowers, in preparation for a hand-fasting ceremony: it is nice to see the place still being used.

I have posted a map, above, to show how it is possible to park nearby and walk round these monuments using the footpaths, keeping roads to a minimum: even those stretches we had to walk along were not that bad, and drivers, as on all country roads, were obviously keeping an eye out for walkers. It really wasn’t too bad at all, and while we were on the footpaths, it was lovely – dog roses in the hedges, yellowhammers singing and a few swallows overhead.

Lower Kit’s Coty (the Countless Stones – I counted 10 and Scott counted 18) lies in a field surrounded by blue flax: yes, there are pylons nearby, but pylons have been a feature of the countryside for a long time and is is possible simply to ignore them. In fact, it was a very peaceful and reflective place. Nobody should be remotely put off visiting these wonderful places.

I tried to visit this site two years ago with little success. I was in the area to look at the Walterstone Motte and Baily castle and thought while I was in the area I would check the hillfort out – as you do! I followed the narrow lane up to Grove Farm to ask for permission but was told the land belonged to a house on th eopposite side of the hillfort. I drove round to the house identified only to be told the land belonged to Grove Farm and I would have to ask there! In the end I gave up!!

Visited 20.6.10.
Driving along the A48, past Caerwent Roman Town (great place to visit), the barrow is on your left in a field just before the railway bridge. Parking is difficult although there is a bus stop you can park in on the opposite side of the road. Be careful crossing as this is a busy road – even on a Sunday. In the field were various ‘shacks’ and a couple of horses. There was waist high grass / vegetation all along the side of the railway embankment and I couldn’t make out anything obvious. No doubt this would be easier to spot in the Winter months?

‘Visited’ 20.6.10.
Not much to report I’m afraid. I took the lane north through Rhiwderin off the A468. There is no public right of way to the fort and visibility was difficult due to the very high hedgerows. I parked near the water treatment works and all I could see was a typical tree covered hilltop.

Visited 20.6.10.
A lovely sunny day and an easy site to visit. Follow the lane north through Lower Machen village off the A468. Turn right along the Sirhowy Valley Walk and the barrow is easily seen on your right hand side about 20 metres away on the brow of the hill. A quick hop over a barbed wire fence and you are there! The barrow is about 1.5 metres high / 5 metres long and about 3 metres wide. The barrow has clearly been dug into at some point in the past. Small stones protrude above the grass at various points. The views down the valley are lovely and make the trip worthwhile alone. A nice place to visit.

Visited 20.6.10.
Unlike thesweatcheat I failed to spot these barrows under the trees and vegetation. On the plus side you can drive down the forrestry track if you want – once you have navigated the maze of unsignposted country lanes to find the site! I had a good look around for the barrows but the going was difficult in the dense undergrowth and Dafydd wasn’t too keen and wanted to go back to the car. Perhaps I saw them and didn’t realise?

Visited 20.6.10.
For ease of finding, this site is located between Lewis Road and Fountain Way, just off Junction 2 of the M48. On a green surrounded by houses and surmounted by a large oak tree.

Visited 20.6.10
Take the road north off the A48 which runs through Parc-Seymour. (A bit further down the A48 is Penhow Castle which is now closed to the public but can be seen from the main road). Take the lane north out of the village and park in the small layby next to a new wooden gate leading to the public footpath (signposted Arcade Road). Follow the footpath up the hill for a few minutes and then try to make your own way to the top through the bushes on your left (the footpath runs around the base of the Hillfort. I only got so far up as I was carrying Dafydd and the bushes / brambles / ferns were waist high. However, I did make our what appeared to be ramparts through the undergrowth. Probably one of those sites best visited in the Spring / Autumn?