Latest Fieldnotes

(notes written on the stone in front of the recumbent, 1 July 00)

The Modern Antiquarian said this was an ‘obscure’ site, difficult to find, but we walked directly up the side of the field from the road, five minutes, straight to it. Here there’s only the recumbent and its wobbly flankers but the great thing about RSCs is that’s all you really need to get a real sense of what the circle was; it tells you where the rest of the circle was and what it was facing and what scale it was built on. And not only are these all you really need, but because they’re the largest in the circle they’re the most likely to still be in situ.

Regarding the missing stones, eighty metres beyond me to the south, just over the brow of the hill, is a big pile of mostly small stones. Field clearance? Cairn? There’s rather a lot, perhaps enough to be a very old and collapsed building. Even if it is just the latter, it’s distinctly possible that it would’ve been made of broken up circle stones. Halfway up from the road in the field wall twenty metres east of the standing stones there’s a wire-fenced gateway, the gateposts being two smallish granite stones. You have to wonder.

The Dunnydeer recumbent is peaked in exactly the shape of the Hill of Christ’s Kirk behind it (like that name doesn’t give a hefty clue as to its sacred history!). From inside the circle you’d have Hill of Flinder on the right, Dunnideer on the left and the recumbent matching the horizon! Your whole field of vision would be sacred hills and stones with *you* feeling like the focus! Psychological genius at work here!

(notes from Balgorkar, 30 June 00)

Balgorkar is easily visible from the road 300 metres away, but at the time of our visit the Modern Antiquarian’s friendly cows had been replaced by ripening barley. As we’d have to walk through crops (ie trample someone’s livelihood) to see the stones we made a point of finding somebody in the adjacent houses to ask permission. The woman we spoke to told us that she goes up to the trees by the field sometimes, “beautiful clear nights and big moons over the moonstones in the corner of the field”. The lunar connection of the stones resonating so deeply with this casual observer that she calls the two outliers ‘moonstones’!

The outliers are to the east, and according to the map some 600 metres beyond them (the other side of the Castle Fraser estate) is a solitary standing stone.

We walked up the copse to the north of Balgorkar and crossed through the barley. There are several fallen stones and some missing entirely, but the raised ground inside the circle gives a sudden sense of hovering over the land that makes it a very commanding place. The circle’s a metre deep in grasses and weeds, but several cairn stones are still obvious.

On our way back to the road, we found a stone in the copse. It’s leaning against a tree, which means it was moved recently (the tree must’ve been there first). It’s not huge, but it is big enough to catch your eye and make you wonder if it was once in the circle.

(notes inside the circle, 3 July 00)

Auchquhorthies is a vast circle set on a low hill. The shoulder-to-shoulderness of these stones coupled with the wildly uneven rocky ground inside the circle tell immediately of the savage tinkering that’s gone on here. As at Craighead a mile or so away, some stones aren’t edge-on aligned in the circle, and the recumbent and one remaining flanker face due south, not south-west. I can’t get a handle on this place at all, it’s all so higgledy-piggledy. The constant whoosh and roar of the A90 dual carriageway just to the east isn’t helping, either. The remains of Auld Bourtreebush lie just beyond, readily visible only 300 metres away, but there’s a crop field between us and there and we’re on our way home and running late.

Like Rudston Monolith in Yorkshire, this circle is actually *in* a churchyard (Christian assimilation of older religions can be so hilariously obvious sometimes). The Gordon District Council have, as at East Aquhorthies, signposted the place and done a decent info board. The board suggests that the stones have been moved (probably during the building of the church at the end of the 18th century), as the stone opposite the recumbent isn’t the smallest and (it says) the recumbent and eastern flanker are out of line with the circle as it stands. Unlike East Aquhorthies, the recumbent stone faces downhill.

The Modern Antiquarian mentions the western outlier stone in the field opposite the churchyard gates, but there’s also another stone two and half metres high north-north-west of the circle. A pinkish stone like those at Sunhoney, it stands among the strip of trees along the right hand side of the lane as you carry on up the hill past the church, on the crest of the hill about 60 metres from the churchyard. It’s leaning at 30 degrees in boggy ground, so who knows how long it’ll stand. I’m told it’s the last of an alignment of stones that once stood here.

Back in the churchyard, to the north of the stones is the outrageously pagan gravestone of one Anne Rochford – a stone slab fronted by a beautiful stylised tree made of copper-gold wire, with great little details of metal spider, mouse and lizard. Just the woman’s name and the years of her birth and death, not a Christian word or symbol in sight. Nice one Anne! Despite being right next to a church, the site does somehow retain a very pagan vibe, and I suspect we’re not the only ones who think so – there were discreet decorative ribbons tied on several trees.

(visited 30 June 00)

This is the first Recumbent Stone Circle we visited, and with hindsight it’s a good choice. Many of them have either lost a lot of the stones or the surroundings or the view, but this one has the lot.

The warm vibe of the site contrasted sharply with the icy evening wind, and in my crippled state I’m always a tad tired and slow, so the cold prevented us abiding by our impulse to stay for ages.

The monstrously sized recumbent stone is imposing to the uninitiated eye, but rather than the stones themselves, my attention was constantly drawn to the dominating shape of Mither Tap mountain. All around us on three sides were gentle fertile rolling downs, but the Mither gave such a startling contrast, all grey, huge and distant in a landscape otherwise green, close and intimate. This, Annwen noted, was the real genius of the siting here; to create a ‘false horizon’ when looking at the recumbent stone it needed to be looking up the hill and just before the crest, rather like driving up a hill can give the illusion that there’s nothing beyond it and you’re heading to a cliff edge. And Mither Tap is the only mountain to be clear beyond this place. Walk 100 metres west, even, and peaks next to Mither Tap are visible, but from East Aquhorthies stones it’s the one and only.

Circles elsewhere tend to feel like the centre of a landscape. This one feels like it’s at the very edge.

(notes from inside the circle, 2 July 00)

Finding this circle is pretty easy despite the lack of any path and its being surrounded with a thick wood of pine trees; it’s a crest-of-hill circle, so keep heading uphill from whatever direction you come in, and you’ll come to the clearing at the top.

The extraordinary thing about Cothiemuir Wood that makes it an essential visit is the shape of the flankers. They’re two opposed wedges, one pointing up and one pointing down, with an elliptical recumbent in between. They look like the buttons for a massive megalithic lift (megaliftic?), as if you could press one or the other to go up or down, and the words ‘lift coming’ would illuminate on the recumbent. The flankers have clearly been tooled with a lot of graft to get them looking this way. Three other stones stand, others lie around where they fell, and there’s an intact stone kist at the centre.

To the north of the stones there’s only a few trees before recent felling clears the view. Not quite enough to actually see the landscape, but – again, if the trees weren’t here – we would definitely see Druidstones a mile or so away. To the north-east we’d see Corrie Hill (clearly the same root word at Cothie-muir, as well as Correen Hills, Corrstones, etc).

Mercifully, despite the dense planting of these woods, the precinct of this large circle has been left clear. If the trees weren’t all round the edge this circle would look west to The Barmkyn, though a south-eastern promontory of The Barmkyn would, I think, make Old Keig circle out of sight. Perhaps my mapreading and calculations are wrong and it’d be mindblowingly in sight.

The Barmkyn is, by implication, a sacred hill; it’s also clearly the same name as Barmekin Hill away to the south-east, the hill that bears down on Sunhoney circle. Both hills are more or less the same size and shape. I have no idea what the root word of their names means and would be grateful if anyone could shed some light on this. Is it to do with the fact that both hills had ancient forts on top? Or is that fact a sign, as Julian Cope suggests, of earlier reverence as sacred hills and the name is to do with that?

Only 5 miles or so west of the Cerne Abbas Giant and east of Eggardun hill, this ‘site’ is an extraordinary place, being a rare example of a churchyard built on a stone circle outside of North Wales. The village is tiny (population less than 300) and the church is unmissably easy to find.

The church stands on a raised and almost circular piece of level ground, the site of the stone circle. In the 1980s part of the northern wall of the churchyard collapsed and two small standing stones were revealed, having had the wall built around them.

Sadly they were moved to the main gateway of the churchyard and set in concrete (and named Andrew and Peter after the saints of the church), but their presence proves the ancient provenance, and there is a tremendous sense of place here.

The church is left unlocked, and there is a small booklet available detailing its history. It makes no mention of the stones or anything to do with its ancient origins; indeed, it doesn’t even put a date on when the church was first built (although the tower was added in 1300, so we are talking seriously old).

Not a great deal to actually *see* here as such, but it is certainly a captivating place to *be*.

(Visited 3 August 2000)

This circle is so small that it is entirely sheltered by the branches of the beech tree at its southern edge. Situated right beside the A35 (on the south side), visiting this place requires a precarious walk along the pavementless edge of the trunk road. (As well as the Little Chef to park in, there’s a nearer spot at the entrance to an inactive farm, across the road and a little east).

There’s several things I found to be slightly at variance with the Modern Antiquarian’s impression of this place. Stukeley’s drawing (reproduced in The Modern Antiquarian) shows only eight stones, but there are definitely nine (albeit the smallest one barely a foot high and being slowly enveloped by the beech tree’s roots). John Aubrey reportedly called the stones ‘petrified clumps of flints’, but only three stones have this flinty-pebbledash look to them. Tellingly, it’s the three largest stones. And although Julian Cope is correct in saying that there are massive differences in the heights of the stones, two nearest the road stand way taller than the rest and provide a gateway effect. Between these two stands a tiny stone, looking to me like an arrowhead shape pointing outwards from the gateway.

Despite the rush and roar of the fast traffic on the adjacent main road, there is a heady peacefulness and a tangible tingle to this place.

(Visited 3 August 2000)

While visiting the West Kennett barrow a worthwhile diversion is to check out the Swallowhead spring nearby. According to the speculative reconstruction of the Silbury/Avebury rituals by Michael Dames this spring was the original focal point of the whole complex and provided the baseline for the sacred geometries used to construct relationships between the various monuments. During the summer months (when incidentally the spring is dry)its a bit hard to spot from the path due to trees etc. Take the path from the road up to the west barrow until it takes a hard left,in front of you is a field gate which the more energetic may shin over or just follow the hedge around to the left until it finishes. Last time I was here (june 99) the field was under crops so keep to the fallow ground at the edge. Follow the edgeof the field to the right of the gate and Swallowhead is in the bottom right hand corner of the field.
I’m not a mystical person but this place is one of the few in Avebury which retains some of the original sense of being a sacred place (the lack of daytrippers is also something to do with it). If you climb down into the dried up spring an old willow tree is festooned with rags and small tokens of previous pilgrims. Sadly last time I was there the remains of some unidentified dead animal probably a cat, together with variousparaphenalia meant that some dodgy pagan nonsense has been going on. Especially during the hectic tourist season this is an oasis of calm with Silbury rising serenely above you in the distance.
Since its located on private land the access may have changed so if anybody has been there more recently please post a follow up.

Visited Scorhill in April 1999. A day that has remained etched in my mind due to the sheer beauty of its surroundings. The circle itself seems to bow to the majesty of the surrounding moor. However, I believe this area may well have been more wooded when this circle was erected – please correct me if I am wrong. I visited with two friends, one of whom took it upon himself to dance around the stones in a pixie like manner with a silly hat on – not normal behaviour I can assure you. Does this place bring out the mania in you?. Certainly there were skylarks in abundance when I was there and they were wild with their singing -strange that previous entry mentioned birds stopping singing as I had the exactly opposite experience.These places can play strange tricks on you.

Stoney Littleton was not easy to find. The roads round here are just windy tracks, so we asked two lots of locals before we found it. English Heritage obviously want to keep this one under their hat.
You can’t see the mound until you’re almost on top of it. Ripening corn surrounded it. Didn’t see another soul there.
The entrance was unbarred, so we went all the way inside. Spooky, dark, cramped, but well worth it!
The ammonite fossil on the entrance stone is very cool.
Wish I knew more about what had been inside.
A surprisingly calm experience!

One of the most beautifully situated and richly resonant circles in these isles, and a demonstration of the power of place. Last time I visited Castlerigg I was horrified to see a group of about eight outward bound types all standing on one of the stones struggling to keep on while some idiot of a leader took a picture. Being a riotous type always looking to did-act, I stormed over and gave them a full public dressing down on the profanity of their actions. I informed them of their irresponsibility and inquired if they expected the stones to last for another millennia if treated like that. In full rant mode by now I pointed out that this was a sacred place and I asked them if they would do this sort of thing standing on the altar of Saint PaulÍs Cathedral? This hit the spot and some rather sheepish people agreed (and to their credit apologised to me personally – I was upset and ñvibeingî crazily). The point made I returned to my companions for support thinking I might have ñcreated a sceneî (that most English of mind f*** social mores).

The power of these places is still resonant not least in the effect this had on me, but also because a number of ñnormsî visiting (Castlrigg is on the tourist trail from Keswick – coach loads of them) went out of their way to congratulate me for speaking out agreeing with me totally. Well ego aside, I felt that the fact the stones were affecting the ñnormsî in such a way is a testament the lasting power and beauty of this place – despite insensitive macho outward ñboundersî. There used to be a good (i.e. one tap and a toilet) campsite in walking distance of the stones (see OS Map). Useful for those midnight pilgrimages, but also hairy and alive to modern warfareƒ.that is beware being woken by a Harrier jump jet passing a matter of feet over head – the camp is in a high position – is quite a soul judder. A must visit site easy to access.

According to Henry W. Taunt in his The Rollright Stones: The Stonehenge of Oxfordshire (published by the author sometime around 1906) The midsummer solstice rises over the Kingstone, but I would not put him up against Thom. He also claims that the size of Rollright is the same as the stones at Stonehenge, also that there were four mounds in the circle and that the midwinter solstice shines through a hole in one of the stones! He also reproduces a carving that looks like a Japanese cuneiform figure. Mind you he also spent an evening waiting for the fairies to appear at the stonesƒ..

Porkbeast
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Gotta agree with Marky mark the setting has it , the fells the dales.
It gripped me in a willie the shake stylee, “this other eden demi- paradise.... this precious stone set in the silver sea”, that whole speech filled my brain, willie always has the right way of putting things. my kids had a sheep shit fight.....perfect .

Don’t want to get to be a Rollright Bore, but I was looking through “IN SEARCH OF ANCIENT ASTRONOMIES ” by E.C. Krupp last night, and there’s an article by prof Thom in there about alignments etc ...

There’s a drawing of Rollright, and it says that the line between the Whispering Knights and the nearest stones in the circle point towards the Midsummer Sunrise.

Looks about right, but I dunno ...

I returned to the mound this morning, to climb to the top and try to gain some understanding of its geographical situation. Warwickshire isn’t reknowned for its hill configurations – so there were no alignments evident (aside from the Fosse Way which you can see running straight SW and NE, going around the mound – like one of those comedy arrows you can stick on your head). This is to be expected really, as the common theory is that Brinklow is alligned on a leyline of some significance (running along similar lines to the Fosse Way).

BTW, it doesn’t seem to matter what time you come to the mound – you always have to share it! (Today it was with a pleasant enough tatooed sunbather, who kind of disturbed the peace a little with his snoring...)

Southern dartmoor OS 655 576

Behind the village of Ugborough is the impressive bulk of Western Beacon topped with a system of five large cairns. Its the Southern most hill on Dartmoor and the cairns are aligned so that they have a stunning view over the South Hams and, on a clear day, the English Channel. A nice place to spend eternity. I always approach this site arse about face because the cairns are just up the hill from my back garden. On reaching the site there is an impressive stone row which leads roughly northwards. The stones are on average 4ft high and spaced at about 90 paces apart. They lead from the cairns down the Beacon then up the next hill called Butterdon. On top of Butterdon is another impressive array of cairns. To the right hand side of the summit there appears to be a collapsed stone circle. Its weird looking, if it was a circle then all the stones have fallen inwards, suggesting to me that it was deliberately but not very comprehensively wrecked. The stone row continues Northwards but the stones are much smaller and only a couple of feet apart. They go on for a long way. Any amateur anthropologist could guess that the rows were used as part of a burial procession ceremony leading from the heart of the moor, up hill and down dale ending at the summit of Western Beacon. Sat on top of Butterdon’s biggest cairn one day (feeling myself deliberately but not very comprehensively wrecked) I was checking out the alignments with the stone row, and other distant Tors. I had a thought. If you don’t know what a Tor is then look at Mr Copes photograph of Bowermans nose on Dartmoor. A Tor is a natural rock formation but it looks completely artificial. Huge flat stones piled on top of each other by nature not by man. So what would an ancient people make of these things ? They would probably think they had been put there by giants, or by gods. So why not imitate them by building their own burial mounds on hill tops ? A stroll across to nearby Ugborough beacon seems to add weight to this idea. That big Tor is in places nearly buried under the remains of a large cairn. Some of the chambers of the cairn look like they have been rebuilt in more recent times but I would guess by the amount of stones up there that the Tor would have been completely covered. The view from Ugborough Beacon also looks out across the South Hams but is somewhat tamed by a golf course. Tossers.

The mound at Brinklow (known locally at the Tump, or, even more imaginatively, the ïBig HillÍ) is presented by Warwickshire County Council as the ñearthworks of a Norman castleî. But the mound was already at least 500 years old when the NormanÍs decided to build upon it. As pointed out by Julian in TMA, the Fosse Way (much detested Roman road running 200 miles from Exeter to Lincoln) deviates in its straight course here (and only here) to go ïaroundÍ the mound. More evidence of the moundÍs antiquity is shown in the name of the village: ïBryncaÍ being an ancient personal name, and ïhlawÍ meaning hill or mound; hence BryncaÍs Mound. The mound has never been excavated, so speculation to it being a burial mound (possibly even BryncaÍs?) remains exactly that.

Despite being an excellent picnic site, itÍs always quiet here (apart from the fool who has today decided to pitch a tent on the very summit (letÍs hope thatÍs not a Stanley knife he has in that plastic bagƒ ahem) ¨¢ although NatashaÍs vertigo precludes us going that high anyhow). Looking around itÍs amusing to note that hardly any signs of the Norman occupation of this land remain (apart from a few extra ditches), while the mound itself still rolls strong and proud above the surrounding coutryside.

The site, on the outskirts of Coventry, is easily accessible from the Fosse Way. Heading North through the village, take the first right after the church of St. John. After about a 200 yards a stile on the right leads to the foot of the mound.

Visited Arthurs Stone whilst on family holiday in the area. So called because this area is rumoured to be the site of an Arthurian battle. The day was warm but overcast. Two families were already there but they did not stay for long – the obligatory photo shoot and on their way. It is a burial chamber that has collapsed on itself but is still srtiking none the less. The countryside around here is awe inspiring and the chamber is set on high ground for whcih must have been an inspiring site for our ancestors. There were some flowers left on the stones but I could not tell what sort – only hope they were not wild flowers! Children spotted some field voles in the grass by one of the fence posts. Tempted them out with some apple. If you go you will see their track marks in the grass. What a nice place to live.

This is my second visit here – previously back in 1995. Nothing has changed and that is very satisfying. Time will always stand still at Arthurs Stone.

A most impressive site that would benefit from restoration of its surroundings. One can feel and visualise the important landscape features but these are obscured by walls/gorse etc. last time I visited in 1998. The central stone is magnificent in its phallic positioning. I have often mused that this could be a possible symbolic male aspect of the earth spirit fertilising the female circle/egg, therby distributing the fertile energy through the ritual landscape, but you can play this game with almost any site. Certainly many line of site alignments have been claimed for the circle by the likes of Sir Norman Lockyer, (The Dawn of Astronomy : a Study of the Temple Worship and Mythology of the Ancient Egyptians, Cambridge, 1964.) who is sometimes described as the father of archeo-astronomy as well as John Michell (Old Stones of Lands End, Pentacle, 1974). There are around 95 existing or former menhirs in the West Penwith area and it has been reliably demonstrated that many are inter-visible falling into a sighting system that may have had ritual use. (Peters, F., Cornish Archaeology, 29, 1990) but the jury is still out on Boscawen-Un ñleysî. There are two routes into the circle, and the use of an OS map is recommended. The most popular is from the obscure small lay-by on the A30 westbound from Penzance near the prominent (though small) rock outcrop of Creeg Tol (approximately situated at OS 277410). This is the route described by most writers as it is the most convenient. However, the most interesting and atmospheric approach has to be from the east, and this may have been the original ritually aligned entrance path. Travelling east from Penzance, turn left shortly after passing the Blind Fiddler menhir towards Boscawenoon village. Turn right in the village towards Changwens and stop in the field where the footpath/track forks to the left through a cattle-grid towards a farmhouse. (approximately OS 274415) This was signposted to the circle in 1998. The right-hand fork is the footpath to the circle and well worth the extra walk. We visited on a beautiful sunny early August morning. The route is very atmospheric, slightly overgrown and bursting with nature. We spotted many unusual plants and insects on our way. A Buzzard flew overhead as we approached the circle adding to the mythic potency of our mental and physical journey. Along this track you have to climb or step over a number of large stones that announced the imminence of the Circle before emerging through a portal of Hawthorn into the magic of Boscawen-un. Opposite you is the white quartz stone (that a later visit one full moon revealed its lunar resonances by glowing like a will oÍ the wisp in the moonlight) bisected by the central stone. Take some time hereƒ.This area is rich with ancient sites and the circle can be included on a day itinerary that includes the Blind Fiddler, Carn Euny settlement and foogou and the most magic site in Cornwall, Sancreed Holy Well.

Porkbeast.

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re camping at Rollright ... no-one actually took a potshot at us, or any such, but we did get a few people parping their horns as we went past ...

... this can go either way ... I didn’t pay that much attention at first, but as we were getting in the van for a kip, it suddenly struck me that we were Slough-Gibbons, alone and deep in the heart of BumpkinLand ...

... what if the parpers were malicious types, trying to wake us up, and soon to return with pitchforks and shotguns and banjos and extra chromasones? Neither of us look particular “hippy” (Gibbon Jnr is only 12 – today as it happens :-), but the van is a total giveaway, and easily susceptible ...

seemed to be OK this time though ... it’s a fairly densely populated part of the world around there ... Jeremy Clarkson lives just around the corner! :-O = Run Away!

Ahh Rollrightƒ I was a regular visitor in the 1980s, there was even a free festival there that I attended once, we all had to take tree to be planted, some of us actually bought expensive trees but they had all been removed (presumably by the land owner) when we next travelled back. How things have changed with weddings and people welcome to the stones. In the bad old Thatcheruined 80s anyone who looked different and hippyish and enjoyed camping near ancient sites or attending festivals was an enemy of the state, ñMedieval brigandsî as Hestletine described us as the coppers confiscated my tent and possessions at Molesworth peace camp circa 1984. Subsequently the travelling eco-new age gypsies were hounded, criminalised, arrested, children taken off them, property confiscated and destroyed. I was caught up in a backwash of the Tory/media moral panic over alternate philosophies when one peaceful night in 1986 camping below the Kingstone with my partner on our way to Glastonbury and then Cornwall. In the middle of the night I was awoken by what I thought was a car backfiring. I got out the tent and was confronted by the local land owner and about four of his cronies, obviously worse the ware for drink, pointing spotlights from a land rover at me. Then I realised that the backfiring car was actually the sound of a double barrelled shotgun. Well, visions of my imminent death flashed before me but we were unceremoniously removed. Bit over the top for camping for a night without permission. We have never returned although we have visited many other places over the years. It is good to see the times they are a changing.

Porkbeast (definitely not a Bob Dylan Fan)
Oink!

A magical site despite its renovation that receives too little attention in the MA in my opinion. I visited it last some five years ago with my 13 month old son and Helen my partner. We were both fascinated by its situation in geographical terms (Meni Straits and Snowdonia close by) and continuing social terms (the local primary school is very close and the children were coming out as we arrived giving the site a very active living atmosphere for some reason). The most significant discovery we made that I have not seen mentioned anywhere else is the stone pillar that stands in(side) the centre of the barrow. Presumably re-placed there in the restoration, it has a finished surface and one spectacular property. When struck this stone emitted a bell like tone, and as a musician I would say it was close to an e natural but this is really a guess. It reminded me of a Tibetan singing bowl that I own having a similar long “clean” resonance. I have seen a similar stone deep within in an obscure and difficult to access sacred cave in Northern Thailand. This however, is a stalagmite that rings like a bell when struck but was a similar shape and close to prehistoric (according to our guide) funeral remains (some stone coffins, there was also a small old Buddha in the darkness). The use of sound in ritual and consciousness expansion of course is commonplace and it seems likely that this was the function of both stones. I read a report of an article in antiquity by Paul Deveraux about the acoustics of the Carn Euny fougou suggesting that it resonated at the same frequency as the chanting of the male voice. The use of these spaces has been open to debate but the ritual function is by far the most likely of course and the modern investigator must try to envisage the range of techniques used to instigate trance and higher consciousness ecstatic states. All in all the area of acoustic research in mother holes and elsewhere is an avenue of enquiry that needs further investigation. I for one will be taking my Tibetan bowl with me to sites in the future and politely tapping any likely looking stones.

Woah... she does smack you in the head. Possibly the only road protesting hill in Britain. This momma has had a massive landslide creeping slowly down its side for centuries if not millenia, giving it the nickname the shivering mountain. The result of this is the road they tried to build accross it contantly kept collapsing for about 70 years until they eventually gave up a few years back.. Right On.
Anyway, capped by the remains of an Iron Age fort this natural proto temple struck me the first moment I saw it, knowing nothing about its ancient associations, I knew something was going on.
Check it out, especially in the driving wind and rain.

The Merry Maidens is an amazing site and really easy to find – being close to a main road. Which makes it more amazing that these stones are intact!
I decided to take a few local friends to the maidens to show them what they had been missing – these stones were virtually on their doorstep, yet they had no knowledge of them!
We sat in the middle and soaked up the atmosphere for a good hour.