Latest Fieldnotes

August 2003

A welcoming site. Well signposted, easy access, own parking spot, interpretation board, no neighbours.

Pity about all the dog poo though.

24 July 2004

BEWARE! Mrs RBD and myself lost our way and nerve on open moorland attempting to find this double stone row at the weekend. The path towards it from Langstone Moor is indsistinct and I think we cocked-up on Cocks Moor. When the weather changes – as it did both quickly and spectacularly for us you’ll need a compass – we alas, didn’t have one. At 1600 feet above sea level Burl and Petit report that this is the highest row on the moor.

In “From Carnac to Calanish” (1993) Burl rates this site as a “3” – runied but recognisable. This is the same grading as that given to nearby Langstone Stone Row which we had earlier walked through without recognising the ruin!

Park at Smeardon Down and take a compass. Good Luck.

Amongst Crossing’s (1912) helpful advice on how to avoid getting lost on Dartmoor is a memorable line about turning your jacket inside out so that the pixies can’t bewitch you!

July 2003

This was a difficult one to find. The area is rich in hut circles, cairns and naturally occuring boulders. After an hour or so of wandering about and taking endless photographs of likely looking “alingnments”, I spotted the real thing. The stone close to the warning sign for the quarry marks the northern, lower terminal. In general though the stones were barely visible above the summer grass and were consequently difficult to capture on film. There IS a row here though, running N-S. Burl (Caranc to Calanish, p 237) claims that it’s 179 metres long.

Although badly ruined this site is well worth a visit for the fine views it offers over Bear Haven and the fact that it’s on that rare thing in the West of Ireland: a public footpath. In August 2003 we parked at Gortagenerick and made the long climb up into the Slieve Mishkish Mountains to join the Beara Way. After a three-hour trek during which time we encountered numerous abandoned cars and dead animals – sheep mostly – and just as we were giving up hope of ever finding this tomb we dropped down into a hollow and there it was on a small ledge to the East of Eagle Hill looking out over Bear Island. Perfect.

Park at Harford and follow the river up the valley. This N-S row is about 500m long and is the southernmost of the the three rows which stretch out into the Erme valley. The stones are often small, but fairly evenly spaced and offer good sport in tracing their line down towards Yadsworthy Waste. A cairn at the southernmost end of the row lies parallel with Tristis Rock which dominates both Burford Down and the lower Erme valley. It rained all day when I visited in July 2003. This was the day that I decided that paying the extra money for a waterproof map was worthwhile after all.

24/7/04

Sitting at the car park below Grimspound with the map across the dash board we reckoned we had a pretty good idea where this row was. Much better in fact than the walkers we could see doubling back on themselves in the rough ground above Headland Warren. Were they trying to find the rows too? We decided to walk up to Grimspound and from there skirt Hookey Tor, cross the road and then pick up the footpath around the farm. After climbing for a few hundred yards we decided we needed to be turning to the left just as some gateposts came into view.

Gateposts?

Far from gateposts these were in fact, the eastern end of a fine 160 metre triple row of stones. They looked quite different to the pictutre I’d held in my mind’s eye. The three black and white images in Burl’s From “Carnac to Callanish” suggest a much more exposed position. Instead these stones were fighting their way through the bracken, helped it must be said by a recent burn to the vegetation.

We took dozens of photographs of the male and female pairs and walked the row several times. My most striking and lasting impression was that the triangular terminal stone on the horizon at the “top” of the row was almost wafer thin.

Challacombe is on a direct line and about half way between Grimspound and the Warren Inn and despite being clearly visible from both of these honeypots it seems sadly ignored.

24/7/04.

After refuelling at the nearby pub – the third highest in England no less – we set off on the Two Moors Way from Bennet’s Cross to Hurtson Ridge. As so often happens, Mrs RBD and myself wandered off the way-marked path too soon and were soon orientating ourselves alongside the edge of Fernworthy Forest.

“We can’t have missed them?”

“There’s a stone – oh no that’s a sheep”

A brief chat about sheep, greywethers and the guy who bought the double stone circle on the other side of the hill in the mistaken belief that they were livestock ensued by which time we had spotted the menhir at the southern end of the row on the horizon in front of us.

Wow! With so many rows on Dartmoor it would be easy to take them for granted but the setting and size of this row marks it out as something special. We walked the row several times sharing the stones with Dartmoor Ponies who seemed pleased to see us.

Walking down this double row so soon after visiting the fine multiple rows at Challacombe, the male/female pairings were plain to see.

August 2003. Notes made with sun-burnt feet. (Damm those walking sandals!)

It was difficult but we made it! If you’re going to walk out of one of the many agreeable pubs in the self-styled folk music capital of Ireland before closing time then there’s got to be a good reason. On what turned out to be the hottest day of the year, we set off from Fisherstreet to the Teergonean crossroads and turned left towards the sea.

After passing a runied church and a few rustic caravans we found ourselves on yet another dusty track in the west of Ireland looking for something megalihic. This was our first Court Tomb however. Having already bought the revised “Book of the Burren” we knew what we were looking for:

“At Teergonean only four stones of this [fore]court survive but the stumps of others can be detected. Originally the forecourt was probably almost semi circular, the tallest and most imposing of the upright stones flanking the narrow entrance to the long rectangular burial gallery” (p 61).

The constant references to this tomb’s ruinous state do not prepare the walker for the site that awaits them. Less than a half a mile from some typically spectacular Burren coastline is a well proportioned and neat little court tomb. Its a tough one, but of all the tombs I’ve visited I think the only one that I’d like to make that final journey in more than this one would be Pentre Ifan.

This seems to be a little visited place which is surprising given its proximity to Doolin’s hostels and campsite and the many references made to it in the Book of the Burren.

We camped in nearby Doolin for a week and returned on several ocassions. You should, at the very least, make a day of a visit here and walk back along the coast for that full Burren effect!

Observations based upon a visit in August 2001.

This multiple stone circle is a delight despite the close proximity of a newly built bungalow. Having seen pictures of this Circle on Clive Ruggles’ website I was surprised to find just how close the dwelling was to the site and how deeply it nestles in the Drimminboy valley.

We followed a fox on the the long road south from Lauragh which pierces the foothills of the Tooth Mountain.

On arriving, I sat with my back to the bungalow, looked north and felt the sun on my face as my childern played quietly amongst the stones. Children of a similar age living nearby looked on suspiciously whilst we counted the 9 stones and wondered where the other four had gone. This place lacks the majesty of nearby Drombohilly and the order of Ardgroom but it remains an excellent example of a Stone Circle and is well worth a visit.

The walk to this stone on the dusty track from the Cable Car to Kilmichael is a long one. With the weather turning against us and the very real fear that we could be stranded on the island overnight we didn’t stay long. The stone is clearly visible from the track and is on boggy ground. The name “The Waters”, mentioned in Durell’s 1996 book Discover Dursey seemed a rather unromantic name for a stone in such a fine Westerly setting. The stone itself is about 1 metre high and is orientated NW-SE

After managing to get to Dursey (via Cable Car) it’s a relief to encounter solid ground. A 45 minute walk from the cable car brings you to a site which makes the hair raising journey across Dursey Sound seem worthwhile. On a visit in 2003 however we were not able to access the field in which the stones are situated as one of the few inhabitants* left on the island was erecting a barbed wire fence on the field boundary between Dursey’s only road and Gort na Gainihime and refused us access when we explained that we’d come all this way to see his stones. Typical! Still, two years earlier on a gloriously sunny day, and with no farmer in sight, we scrambled down alongside the stream locals refer to as “The Big River”, and up a bank to reach the stones.

Durell (1996: 211) reports that the stone is 1.8m high, 95cm wide and 65cm deep and has a recumbent stone beside it. She also gives directions to Rock Art in the same field but despite some efforts we couldn’t find any trace of the stone in question.

*Penelope Durell (1996) in her excellent Discover Dursey (Ballinacarriga Books: Allihiles) observes that the permanent population of the island is now down to single figures. If you’re going to Dursey you’ll need this book and a head for heights.

Burnswark is a Magical and very special place. Looking like some primeval ark sailing across the landscape, there is no excuse to miss it. Whatever direction you approach from, it stands out. Its importance to our ancient ancestors is highlighted by the Roman forts and roads which lie all around, still easily seen. Leave the M74 at Ecclefechan and go north on the lane past the Kirkconnel Hall Hotel. At the T junction, turn left and continue for just over a mile, till the road becomes a track, and park at the Y junction. Take the path through the firs, and climb to the top. The view is panoramic, and the landscape epic. I have had the honour of climbing Bear Butte, the Teaching Mountain of the Cheyenne and the Sioux, and was delighted to discover the same qualities here. The Lake District even looks like the Black Hills do from Bear Butte, with the Solway taking the place of the lake (I can’t recall the name) that lies before them. At Bear Butte, the east end is where mystical encounters are reported, and Burnswark’s eastern outcrop is called Fairy Craig! Like Julian, I resisted climbing my sacred hill, content to look with awe, but I lost nothing by doing so. There is a Teaching Mountain on my doorstep.

Stonhenge is dwarfed by its environment, and this is highlighted if you have just come from Avebury. I had not intended to visit, when I planned my trip, but wandered south anyway. A peculiar sight lay before me when I crested Kings’ Barrow Ridge. A tiny jumble of grey shapes lay encircled by a multicoloured ring and a black ring, all cradled in a grey Y. As I drew closer, the rings defined themselves as a crowd of people and a high fence. I have never seen double yellow lines this far out of town. They explain why people have to pay 2 quid to park. The green sentry box made me laugh, as did the tourists looking out through the fence at me, looking in at them, but I was left wondering why the peeps are guided to walk widdershins round the stones. Accident or design? Stonehenge has always seemed to me to have been built by people who did not understand our indigenous circles, as a symbol of their power and authority, in much the same way as the Romans took on Christianity, and the modern day authorities’ attitude to visitors of all hues ( unless they have the right “credentials” ) seems to flow from that. I am sure a lot of you get great pleasure from visiting, and I mean no slight to any of you. Maybe I will buy a ticket next time, and try to open my mind, but I enjoyed Stonehenge best from the wonderfully eery barrows on the ridge. Don’t miss them!

Most of this fort was obilterated when the Wallace Monument was built in the 19th century. The Abbey Craig is an old lava flow rising out of the flat, low Carse of Forth, and it’s defensive properties are clear to see. There is a sheer drop on the W side, which affords views along Blairdrummond Moss towards Loch Lomond, while on the E side, which looks along the Carse of Forth, had a timber-laced heavy stone wall, enclosing an area of 175 ft by 125 ft. Look hard in the undergrowth around the Monument and you can still see vitrified material.

You can walk the grounds freely to look for the remains of the fort, but you have to pay to get into the Monument itself. I would highly recommend this. Even if you’re not really interested in the history of William Wallace or seeing his enormous sword, it’s well worth paying just to go straight up the narrow stairs to the top, where you get amazing views along the Ochils and the Carse of Forth to the E, and along Blairdrummond Moss to the W. You can also get a great view of Dumyat from a unique perspective, and can look down on the nearby standing stone at Airthrey.

I grew up near here, but it took me 34 years to actually walk round them. A new moon hung low in the sky, above the row of hills to the west, and the stones looked ethereal under her pale glow. I felt a strong and pleasant atmosphere as I wound my way round them. To the west, the familiar view of foreground and background, but no middleground, is to be seen. I could have stayed for hours, so charged was I by the magical atmosphere, but was rudely interrupted by my daughter, standing on the stile and shouting, ” Da-ad, we’re starving! ” Sigh.

Getting to the stones proved to be an adventure. I decided not to bother the farmer, and went round to the south. I saw the sign, but managed to miss the stones in their prominent site and turned down a narrow track. 20 minutes later, I breathed a sigh of relief as I arrived back at the sign. Do not go down the track, unless you have a jeep! The walk up to the stones is easy, and well worth the climb. The stones are very tall and stand on a natural platform, with clear views of the Galloway Hills, to the east.I noticed that the stones lined up eith a well defined notch in the distant Hills. Driving back up towards the A75, I tried, but failed, to see this feature from any of the roads’ many vantage points. On leaving the fenced in site, I found the field to be full of ‘shrooms ( it was September ). If I had got lost later, I could have blamed it on them!

The fort of Dumyat, which sits on a spur of the larger hill of the same name behind it, is in an excellent defensive position commanding wide-ranging views across the Carse of Forth to the south, and on the western edge of the Ochils.

The name Dumyat is believed to derive from Dun Maeatae – the fort of the Maeatae. The Maeatae or Miathi were a tribe in central Scotland. Xiphilinus, writing in CE 208 of Septimus Severus’ campaigns, said “the two most important tribes of the Britons (in the North) are the Caledonians and the Maeatae. . . . The Maetae dwell close to the wall which divides the country into two parts and the Caledonians next to them. Each of the two inhabit rugged hills with swamps between”.

Whether or not the wall Xiphilinus mentions is Hadrian’s or the Antonine Wall has been debated by historians. But the description of “rugged hills with swamps between” matches perfectly with Dumyat, which stands proud above Blairdrummond Moss, which until the late 18th century and early 19th century was still mainly swampland, passable only by those that knew the raised pathways.

The fort itself has several phases of development stretching from the late 1st millenium BCE into the early 1st millenium CE. To the E and NE of the fort, the land rises steeply up to the summit of Dumyat the hill. To the S there is a 1000 ft sheer drop to the floor of the Carse of Forth. The easiest access is from the W, so this is where the defences are most significant.

The first phase of building consisted of two closely-set heavy stone ramparts enclosing an area 320 ft by 180 ft entered by a single gateway on the W. Outside the gateway are further defences believed to be from a second phase of development. Inside the outer walls is a smaller enclosure crowning the summit of the site, and measuring 85 ft by 50 ft, with walls 12 ft thick. This inner enclosure may have been contemporary with the outer walls, or it may represent a later development, where a smaller fort was built within the ruins of an older and larger one. However interestingly the inner enclosure was linked to the outer by a section of wall, possibly suggesting that they were contemporary.

Went to this site on 23/07/04. It was very overgrown – if you really want a good look at the stones you should come earlier in the year.
This is the first site I have been to with a mind for putting something on this website. It’s only about two miles from my door, so it was a good one to start on!
Even with it on the doorstep, I was so glad that I did come to this longbarrow- the site looks like an old ruined cottage from the road – indeed a friend of mine, Spread Thenley, had talked about investigating ‘that house in the field’ once.
There is a parking place big enough for 1 car at the gate to the field, and you simply walk until you hit the longbarrow.
From the side, it is inspiring to see the length of this, though my daughters didn’t seem to understand the significance of it all – they were too busy looking for the golden wheelbarrow.

I have taken some photographs of the stones and will upload them when I can get the time to process them – they show something slightly odd. On the left hand standing stone (as you apprach from the gate), there are some clear markings of wearing on the stone – indicating that they have been moved a great distance. I am a complete novice to this game and have never studied anything about this age until I found Julian’s book, so forgive me if this is not of importance, but I am surprised no one else has reported on these markings.

Anyway, come back soon and I’ll have the images in place.

Thanks for reading to the end for those of you that got this far!

Cheers

Darting Trough.

The OS map claims there to be a fort here, all that I could see was a low ridge and shallow ditch. Kathy, my partner thought the stone looked like a camels head.
On the low hill behind is a cairn which has been hollowed out.

July 2004
The maize in Ocifants photo has now grown to about 3 ft high compleatly obscuring the cairn. It will be a couple of months before it can be accessed i would think.

Aug 2006

Two years later I try again to reach the cairn. A thick mist has covered West Penwith and it is only my memory of my last trip that leads me to the cairn. Luckily the field is only planted with grass so it is an easy walk through the dew soaked grass to the cairn.

As can be seen from my photos it was a big dissapointment..I wonder what firm evidence there is that this was once a cairn?

It’s rather a pocket-sized longbarrow this one, and almost cute with its fluffy (and spiky) summer vegetation. I would have sat down and relaxed – but the plants were so high I wouldn’t have been able to see out, so I didn’t. I expect it looks smaller than it once was – it is right on the field boundary and cut in two by the hedge, the eastern side being ploughed. The huge oak tree growing out of it lends a certain character to it. To get here you have to drive along little lanes through great open fields – it feels most remote, but there in the background is the drone of the motorway, only yards away really.

Its record on Magic mentions “an additional long barrow survives some 160m to the north-west. Such pairs are rare and give an indication as to the density or length of time during which areas were populated during the Neolithic period.” I wasn’t aware of this at the time – the other barrow is on the other side of the road, and is not indicated on the OS map. The county boundary follows the road.

As I parked the car and got out a load of cyclists began pedalling past along the long straight road. Why should I care what they thought? There’s usually only one reason why someone would be popping behind a hedge in the middle of nowhere. It’s probably easier to leave them to their assumptions than explain a strange interest in overgrown mounds in fields.

I had ridden my bike through 300 miles of rain, from my first visit to the Avebury complex, and was nearing home. Still charged with energy from the experience, my mind and body in turmoil, I headed north, through the Lake Distict, looking for Castlerigg. I had never been before, although I only live an hour away, but I immediately felt ‘at home’. At Avebury, I was a visitor, these were stones laid by my forefathers, and they knew me. There were few others here, when I arrived, but everything calmed down as I stood back and sent out some smoke. The sun came out and the drying of the air brought people flooding up the hill. In my mind’s eye, I could see them in the cafes of Keswick, nursing cups of tea and watching the skies. Did they all throw their chairs back en masse, and scrabble for the exits? Walking into the circle, I felt the familiar signature of circles up here; the pull of the eye to the horizon, the foreground and background, but no middleground; the echo of festivals and celebrations past, or yet to come. Finding the exact middle of Castlerigg is a simple, but wonderful task. Site yourself roughly in the middle, look around you at the silhouette of the stones until you find one that matches a shape on the horizon, then move back and forward on this axis until more stones start to line up with other prominent features.When you have done that, try stooping down. More stones line up. Now, stand up and take in the view. The landscape becomes more immediate, more familiar, more home. At Avebury, I was challenged to contemplate that which is beyond my ken while, at Castlerigg I was reminded who I am. I left here at a relaxed pace, dry and warm, and headed for home.

I came to Avebury through backroads and, by taking intuitive turns, came into the village from the north west. There was another avenue here, and I think that each avenue had its own purpose, complimentary, but individual. Go up some dead end roads and count the interesting stones used as features in the gardens. The sense of layered events is palpable. Joining the crowds streaming from the official car park, I drifted, looking around. The path is a joy in itself, and the complex remains out of comprehension for most of the walk. The first impression I got, when the view finally opened out, was that the village had crashlanded, hard, on the northwestern side of the henge, a long time ago, and then life had carried on as if nothing had happened! The flow of people turned right inside the henge and I was a few stones into the ring before I registered that something felt wrong. Widdershins didn’t seem right, a concept which I resisted for a few more steps. I stepped outside the circle and sat down to eat some cherries and watched the people go by. Was it my fancy, or did they all seem to be walking uphill, into the wind? I pulled out my copy of The Modern Antiquarian, and started to read. Immediately, another couple of Canadians came up and asked what the kind the stones were. Thank you, Julian! I headed for the centre, then north to the outer henge, passing between two enormous stones, recently vacated by some dowsers. Polarity was there to see. At the outer henge, I began to make my way, deosil, round the top. A road cuts through from the east, so I had to climb down, back into the very earth, or so it felt, before climbing back up the other side. Four Watchers stood quietly here, and I spent a while listening to what they had to say. They have been here for a long time, and have not always held this form, which they chose to continue in peace, in these busy days of tour buses, digicams and celebrity. As I sat at their feet, people strolled or strode by within 5 yards, yet none cast an eye in our direction, even when I stared directly at them. People walked towards, then round where I sat, seemingly oblivious to the detour. As I walked round the outer henge, I wondered is its purpose. It would make a Grand Gallery from which to watch events taking place within, and an artificial horizon for the stargazer looking out upon the heavens. Both, and more, would seem the most likely answer to me. On the Avenue( the more famous one), I found it more difficult to walk out than to return. A grand, local gentleman told me to stand outwith the western side of the Avenue and look between the opposing stones towards the Ridgeway, on the horizon. Some alignments with barrows and other landmarks can be seen. Unfortunately, some of the stones are missing, replaced by stumps of concrete, and many of the stones are not in their original positions, being dislodged or re-erected by well meaning people, so I found it difficult to get over enthusiastic about any success I had. The next day, I returned and parked my father’s car outside the Post Office, feeling a delicious sense that some of those who had obeyed all the tourist parking signs were looking on me as a ‘local’, part of the experience of Avebury! This was my first visit, but Avebury has been in my conscious thoughts for as long as I care to remember. One last reflection; If Glastonbury is the Heart Chakra, then Avebury is the Womb. I don’t think I have encountered a place with such latent female energy. Enjoy....

The journey to West Kennet Long Barrow has many distinct parts, starting with the car park. Apparantly, this is one of the most thieved-from in the county. A man in Marlborough came up to me and warned me to lock my bike if I stopped there. Arriving, I saw that shattered glass lay all around. I marvelled at the incongruity of this, in the presence of the quiet dignity that is Silbury Hill. It felt like a test of the heart, so I left my bike without lock and lifted my head. Take time to stop under the wonderful oak at the side of the meadow. A kind soul there abides.The climb up through the barley shows all sorts of detritus in the soil. I picked up a heart shaped sliver of flint and a couple of lumps. The surface felt like soupstone, so hard, yet so soft. I caught up with a couple of ladies and we reached the barrow together. I walked off round the outside of the barrow, leaving the ladies to the “Hey, You!” of the stones at the entrance, and came back along the spine. A small pit seemed an appropriate recepticle for the stones, so I left them there. The heart I gave to my wife when I got home. The back of West Kennet is scarred, deeply, by the excavations of the curious, and the greedy, but the scars are old and make the path up the spine into a mini adventure. I felt like a giant striding across the downs. The roof of the chambers is a mixture of huge stone plates, glass bricks and concrete. It had a hint of the Cold War utilitariarn to it, but only affected the Glamour of the place. West Kennet has deeper levels of meaning to it than that. Met a Canadian couple who had just come from Dunscore, the small village in Scotland where I lived as a boy, and smiled. What were the chances....? Inside, the stones are beautiful, all swoops, scoops and curves. I didn’t feel much life beyond the stones. The word I would best use is ‘cold’, not malevolent, just dead. I suppose this is fitting, if this was a site associated with death. In the time I was here, at least 9 army helicopters flew directly past, usually in pairs which seemed intent on corralling us. I suspect that this is intentional but feel it as an impotent fury. When here, smile and wave. Who knows what hearts might melt, behind the Rayban Shine.... Incidentally, my bike was still there when I returned!

On the peak of Adam’s Grave, I felt very close to flight. It felt natural to spread my arms and stand, effortlessly, on tip-toe. Military and commercial heicopters buzzed past continuously, yet could not compete with the power emanating from this place. All the people I met here were open in gaze and word, and every meeting felt especially important. I encountered warmth, contentment, generosity, wisdom, insight, wonder and a curious crop circle which I can best describe as a Chakra Bee!
The system of earthworks which surround the barrow are worth exploring, and the scattered, burrow excavations give a tantalising glimpse of what lies beneath. A lady told me that there is an unexcavated chamber inside. Let it remain so.