Latest Fieldnotes

On reaching this pair of stones, I think we were all in awe at their sheer immensity. The first, a slender, wide, leaf-shaped monolith, stands a clear 13 feet tall – I thought it looked more like 18 feet, personally. Next to it sulks a brooding, ten foot high rectangular block of rock. Although impressive, I wasn’t as keen on the energy of this place. It was in total contrast to the elegant airiness of Penrhos Feilw. There is a suggestion that they are the remains of a stone circle – that must have been one hell of a sight! I think they were a couple of try-outs for comparison, and got left in a field by the early engineers . . .

Not unlike St. Lythans, Bodowyr stands in the middle of a field, but unlike St. Lythans, it is caged up behind a green metal fence. This prevents it being used as a shippon by cattle, or having chunks hacked out of it by farm machinery. This is a Good Thing, as it is a charming, faerie-magical dolmen, with a capstone that looks like a toadstool cap. Again, like Bryn Celli Ddu, Bodowyr enjoys a great view across to Snowdonia. Cute and charming. Bizarrely, I managed to take a photo which makes it look like an African mud hut.

This was the other site with which Kate had seduced me, on a golden day in late October. It was just as beautiful this time round. The vibrant green mound stood out wonderfully against the cerulean blue sky, and commanded a stunning view of Eryri. The uprights and other stones at both sides of the mound were covered with the fluffy, frondy grey-green lichens seen at Trefignath. As ever, the menhir inside the mound just blew me away. I love Bryn Celli Ddu; it has the most wonderful energy and a low, thrumming magicalness. The other thing that thrummed was the back of my head, after I cracked it against the interior lintel – the type of blow to the skull that makes anyone else present want to throw up.

I noticed that some thoughtful people had left an offering to the Goddess on a stone ledge inside the chamber. Millennia ago, the Goddess was often honoured with a burnt sacrifice of a prized bull, a sheep or two, or a few goats – now she has to make do with a handful of peanuts, a wizened crab apple, and couple of torn Quality Street wrappers. Quality indeed.

Parking in the RSPB car park – allowed, we were off bird watching after the huts –we crossed the road and progressed along well kept grassy paths amidst a sea of bracken on the lower slopes of Holyhead Mountain. Some mature American hippies/Bronze Age wannabees passed by, one of them wearing a very nice purpley-russet poncho. The sun shone down warmly, and rounding a corner, I was treated to my first hut remains – and was instantly enchanted. What a corker of a site. White dry stone walls, approximately two and half feet high, shone in the light, contrasting with dark green bracken fronds, vibrant purple heather, and brilliant yellow gorse flowers. The turf floors were cropped close, and despite the exposed position, the whole place looked very ‘gentle’, for want of a better word.

It was easy to visualise the low conical roofs of the roundhouses, and the people moving between the structures. Having just finished the third in Manda Scott’s Boudica series of books, I was put in mind of her Iron Age vision of life. What must it have been like living in a roundhouse on an exposed cliff face? The weather had by now broken into glorious sunshine, but winter gales must have been horrendous as they drove into the cliffs, straight off the Irish Sea. One roundhouse looked as if it would have made a snug bolt hole when the tribe gathered together for food, drinking, and story telling. Presumably though, our North Walian Bronze Age ancestors were nowhere near as nesh as a modern day Southerner – and of course, the climate was warmer in those days.

I thought of how they would have sustained themselves – fish caught from the beaches below, boar raised on the mountainside, and eggs taken by terrifying climbs on the perpendicular cliffs which are home to thousands of sea birds. Tasty! Before we left, I gazed out over the view our ancestors enjoyed. The Irish Sea stretched unbroken to the horizon, and to the south, the mountains of the Llyn Peninsula rose out of the sea in irregular, soft, misty blue silhouettes. It was, quite simply, superb.

These two lovely stones are in the middle of a field, and would have commanded a fabulous view across Ynys Môn when first created. Reminded me of nothing more than a gateway or spiritual portal, and I was put in mind of a reference to the rune known as Thurisaz: ’ Thurisaz is also held by some to be the gateway rune. It can represent powerful forces available for your use. The decision you have to make – the gateway facing both ways – is how to use them. Thurisaz exhorts you to choose your path and take action before it is too late. Which path will you choose? What force will you employ – attack or defence? This is the problem with Thurisaz- the chaotic element that makes it so dangerous and difficult to deal with.‘* Sure was some big gateway stuff going on here. These are a beautifully matching pair of stones – elegant, poised, subtle. Very other-worldly. I liked ‘em.

* Quote from www.runes.info

For once, ignore the surrounding landscape when visiting this place, otherwise you will be entirely distracted by the gigantic aluminium smelting plant just the other side of the A55, which runs below Trefignath. Focus instead on the monument itself, think to yourself how much it is reminiscent of Dyffryn Ardudwy. (This was the first thing to strike me about the site – further reading revealed that the esteemed Frances Lynch had indeed proved it had a complexity the same as Dyffryn Ardudwy). Pay especial attention to the two tall pillars at the chamber entrance, and the chamber itself, which is quite something. The huge capstone appears to have broken in half at some point in time. The second chamber is minus its capstone. Jane’s immediate reaction was that the whole thing looked like French allee couverte. Haven’t seen one, so don’t know. Sounds fun, though. I liked Trefignath, despite the drizzly rain, and particularly liked the nobility of the main chamber and the hairy, frondy, fluffy grey-green lichens that grew all over the stones.

Saturday morning dawned grey and dry, and inevitably, Jane was like a greyhound out of a trap, with the key to Barclodiad-y-Gawres the hare. Soon, the four of us (Cleo stayed in bed), were rewarded with one of the most spectacular dolmens in the country.

It takes a long time for one’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, but finally a very impressive chambered tomb becomes visible. Six stones are decorated with lozenge, spiral, cup mark and concentric circle patterns – the first and most impressive immediately to the right after unlocking the gate and entering the structure within a structure.

The large capstone has been skilfully engineered so as to appear to be balancing delicately and airily on the uprights, when viewed from certain angles. The back stones of the two side chambers are both carved with spiral designs. The best of these are on the eastern chamber – three spirals in a row. The handiwork of a Stone Age monumental mason, perhaps?

Whilst sitting on the comfortable, dry, sandy bank above the gloomy western chamber, listening to oystercatchers and the crash of the incoming tide on the cliffs below, two chaps entered, so I directed them to the Maglite Jane had left by the gate, and pointed out the carvings while giving them a (very) brief overview of the dolmen.

Grasmere is another one of the recently discovered Cumbrian rock art panels. It was found by a lady called Liz Clay (cheers Kate).
The panel itself couldn’t be easier to visit as it’s in the middle of Grasmere village in the corner of Broadgate Park, right next to the NT carpark.
The panel itself is a glacially smoothed outcrop with dozens of cupmarks. There are definite similarities between this panel, in both the nature of the carvings and the location, and the panels in Patterdale and Crummock.
I’ve got a feeling that there maybe a lot more sites like this just waiting to be found.
I love this panel being in Grasmere, I was able to visit the panel and tip a nod to Wordsworth.
I only found out about the Constable exhibition in the Wordsworth Museum when I got home..damn! wordsworth.org.uk/Default.asp?Page=37

Aerial images from the survey on the Walton Basin (The Walton Basin Project: Excavation and Survey in a Prehistoric Landscape 1993-7), and a 3D fly through reconstruction at the Radnorshire Museum in Llandrindod Wells both confirm the existance of this Cursus.

The MOD signs are now gone, and just the metal uprights survive of the enclosing box, as of 27/08/06. You still have to enter through a not very obstructive gate, though much less forbidding than previously.

Coming up the Stoneyhill road beside Maes Howe just past where the viewpoint sign is on the left there is a footpath marked on the right. From the ridge on which the house sits with your back to the house look across the intervening field and the mound with its exposed material is there before you. Follow the path and you come round to the gate of the field in which it lies. Even in summer the outline of mound, ditch and bank is fairy obvious. Presently (August) the marshy are is dry. In the field around which the path goes are two or three mounds covered in grass that stand higher than the bell barrow, and in the tops of at least two are the tell-tale signs of antiquarian barrow-digging. I came by the side opposite the viewpoint sign aong a couple of ruts, which I do not recommend as the marsh plants stand high and their lushness hides the much pitted surface of the ground – even though dry you do not know from one step to the next how far the foot will go. I was strongly put in mind of going to the Knowes of Trotty. Then again, taking the ‘marsh’ into account reminded me of a 19th century antiquarian account of digging mounds at Langadae (Burn of Langa Dee) : “The burn or water courses have been conducted in a meandering manner about each mound.“, and further “On each of these mounds there is and was a lump of white quartz ” brings to mind the disintegrating stone of the bell barrow here.

These are by the west side of the Stoneyhill road before you go over the hill to the Stone o’ Hindatuin. They are in the field adjoining a smaa house. The description is misleading. One of the barrows stands higher than the others, the third from the roadside. And actually the first two could equally be one of much larger diameter that has been cut in twa. In a hurry to get to the Ness of Brodgar talk I left entering the field for closer inspection on a fine winter’s day. My camera revealed a single stone on the downhill side of the taller barrow near the top.

Having noticed the low water levels in several reservoirs recently, it seemed a possibility that the drowned circle at Walshaw Dean might perhaps be visible, so I set out armed with the published GPS and the 1902 pic of the site. I headed straight for the spot indicated by the GPS which is just past the dam of the upper reservoir to find nothing but water. The description of the site however places it in the middle reservoir, not the upper, so I walked round the reservoir looking for signs of the circle, eventually right by the dam in the middle reservoir I spotted what looked to be the remains of a circle, closer inspection raised my hopes still further – Was this indeed the remains of Walshaw Dean Circle? I think so, further information from Ling Roths – ‘The Yorkshire Coiners’ puts the site ‘on the left hand side of the valley going up, a few yards above the damn of the second reservoir’ (Thanks Paulus) in other words exactly where these stones are at SD96472 33553. At the moment levels are still low, and the stones clearly visible, the site is an easy 1 mile walk up the tarmac road to the Lodge, when you reach the Lodge, look over the dam & the circle is right there.

Approaching the tomb, past the cricket pitch we disturbed perhaps 25 pheasants – cannon fodder for the local shooting club. And then you see it! What a fabulous tomb, but once again sadly screwed by thoughtless restoration. Jesus-H-Christ-on-bike, what do they think they’re doing lobbing in some ugly timber pitprops to hold up the capstone? Indeed, does it really need holding up? I think not. Surely a clean single metal bar lurking behind the portal stone would have done the trick. Instead we get enough timber to build a new cricket pavilion. Great stones. Great spaces. Lovely looking thing. Great atmosphere. Crap rafters.

Hadn’t seen anything like this before: three gorgeous pointy stones, arranged quite close together in an triangular ground plan. They looked like three characters just hanging out having a conversation. It was almost impossible for me and my sprogs not to get in among them and lurk around them, moving from stone to stone. This pissed the hell out of the two photographers in our party.One stone looks extremely phallic. This cannot just be my smutty mind as it is very cock-like indeed. Don’t bring your god-fearing maiden-aunt here! Some beautiful views over towards the elegant wind turbines from here. So much nicer than the hideous aluminum smelting plant on Holy Island.

Jane’s Law of Dolmen Visiting states: “Thou shalt make every effort to enter the chamber and grub about in it”. Lligwy is especially good for this although at first glance you wonder how the hell you’re going to get in. The entrance is small and requires a hands and knees approach. But once beneath the gigantic capstone weighing 25 tons it feels light and spacious as if it’s hovering above. It’s not. It’s held aloft by lots of uprights and once you’re in, the ground sinks down below you. There’s even a comfy megalithic bunk to lie down on to avoid the mud. We loved it despite being caged in by yet another set of ugly, pointy railings.

On a wild hillside covered in gorse, brambles and blackthorn lurks this beauty. Like Mulfra Quoit in Cornwall, the capstone has fallen back dramatically. It’s constructed of the same puddingy type local stone as Lligwy, which isn’t very beautiful, but it is very white and looks good. It was fairly tight in there, but Rupert and I had to squeeze in. That’s the law with dolmens, isn’t it?

Argh! Another example of hideous restoration! Whichever pricks decided to use pillars of bricks to hold up capstones need their brains concreted. I suppose I should be thankful that the capstone is still up but this beautiful chamber has been very badly damaged by it’s repairs. You can get a view of it where the brick pillars are not visible and that is certainly worth enjoying.

This pair of weird whoppers stand strangely straddling a rusty gate. They are enormous! One’s quite flat and perhaps 18 feet tall and the other is dumpy, but make no mistake, they’re Big Mothers! The notes say they may be what remains of a stone circle, but I’m not sure I buy this theory. These are just too goddamned gigantic for that and too close together for the proportions to make sense. A burial chamber perhaps, but not a circle surely. Check ‘em out for yourself. They’re ace!

I’m a sucker for a neat little dolmen, so I was always going to love Bodowyr, for it is as pretty as something as sweet and fluffy in Faeryland. It’s caged in behind a nasty fence you can easily climb over. I suspect the railings are to protect the dolmen from the resident herd of cattle in the field. The herd including large mean-looking bull were completely disinterested in us. For those who are a cattle-shy, you could always leg it the 50 metres across the field and retreat behind the fence surrounding the dolmen if they approached.

Today we also had the protection of a 12-year-old son equipped with very loud cap gun.

A stunning grassy mound within a small henge, in all but proportion, just like the green sombrero of Maeshowe. Even my kids fell for its charms, not least because you can get inside and grub around. There’s an intriguing standing stone inside the chamber, which must have been built around it. There are also two really nasty, ugly concrete lintels shoved in during restoration, which made me a bit cross. The ditch of the henge is, unusually, lined with large stones.

A fiver deposit got us the key from the Wayside stores in Llanfaelog, just one mile north from the chamber. And then with a stiff westerly blowing, we walked up the headland from our cottage to Barclodiad-y-Gawres. Right on a headland sticking out between two gorgeous beaches this chamber has much to recommend it.

I zipped inside quickly not least because it offered blessed relief from the wind. A couple of stones have swirls and zigzags carved onto the rocks reminding me a little of Gavrinis. I even liked the concrete dome protecting the internal chamber from the weather and allowing vistiors to view the entire construction. However, this was the only instance of Welsh restoration that I liked. But more on that story later.

If you get the chance, walk round on the cliffs to the south of Barclodiad and Cable Bay. The views of Barclodiad are wonderful and while you’re here look out for the merlins, wagtails, oystercatchers and whinchats!

I’ve seen a few hut circles in my time, but these are the most perfect I have yet seen. They may only be a series of small walls, but what small walls! Today up to 20 of them nestle among tall bracken and heather strung along the hillside which is bright purple. All beautifully restored, it’s not hard to imagine them with their conical wood and thatch roofs and all the activity of domestic life... smell that roasting pork and those frying guillemot eggs!

Park in the RSPB South Stack car park. And while you’re here why not teeter along those cliff tops? We saw gannets and choughs!

Blimey Batman! We liked these! Tall, elegant and graceful, this pair of megalithic goalposts stand long after the game is forgotten. Having only just returned from Aberdeendshire, I couldn’t help thinking how much like flankers these were, without the recumbent. It’s hard to be here and not try to bridge the gap between the stones. What went on in the sacred space?

Just across the new, fast main road from the aluminium smelting plant is this nicely restored chambered cairn. Lots to see here: from a distance and due to the slatey material it’s made of, it reminded me very strongly of a French allee couverte. I liked the juxtaposition of the industrial plant so close and the new road. Despite the continual urban and industrial growth, this thing survives – and rather well.

While you’re here, look out for Ty Mawr just up the lane. It’s a biggun!