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Cape Cornwall is an obvious landmark on the coast, especially from Sennen and Land’s End. Sometimes dubbed the discerning person’s Land’s End, to distinguish it from the tourist trap of the real thing, it has featured in the peninsula’s human history going back to the Iron Age (probably) and the Bronze Age (definitely). Sadly there’s nothing left to see of either, but it’s well worth a visit.

Today we’ve come along the coast from Botallack, after a revisit to Kenidjack Castle. It’s a steep drop and re-ascent from Nancherrow stream, a lush valley filled with vegetation at this time of year. Dropping back down from the “mainland”, the neck of the promontory is occupied by lush green fields, and the early medieval St Helen’s Chapel. Sadly there’s no sign of the ramparts reported by Borlase.

The last and only time we’ve previously made the climb up to the chimney was in June 2001, almost two decades ago to the day. At 64m above the crashing waves below, it’s not a huge hill, but it seems quite a stiff little climb on a warm day and I’m glad to reach the chimney. The top of the promontory is rocky and it’s hard to see that this part of the headland would have supported habitation, but it would be a superb place for a lookout or beacon. It’s quite busy up here today, wildlife photographers and people out to enjoy the stunning scenery. The wind is blowing strongly here, but not enough to stop us having our sandwiches and taking a good break. One nice touch is the plaque on the chimney recording the fact that the headland was bought for, and donated to, the nation by Heinz. Beans means Iron Age promontory forts, right on!

From here it’s a steep drop (another) and then a steep climb (another) up to the Carn Gloose road to revisit another old favourite, Ballowall barrow.

It’s always worth remembering on a visit to the Beaghmore complex of circles, rows and cairns, the good fortune that allows us to see and appreciate so much. Once discovered and uncovered it made archaeological and commercial sense to open it up to the public. One can’t help but be reminded of that good fortune on a visit here. Drumskinney, 1.5 kms up the road, seems to have gotten all the attention in this area, leaving the circle here to be lost to the bog.

It’s said that there are “24 limestone boulders protruding above the bog surface to heights varying from 0.05-0.75m”. I made out maybe 8 of these at best today and maybe 3 of the 11 stones said to make up two tangential rows on the eastern arc of the ring. I had hoped for more – yet still the place retains something (is it only because of foreknowledge?), the flattened interior of the circle evident, the vibe of all that wild, boggy, early spring growth creating an energetic, almost electric, buzz. Worth a butchers if you’re visiting the row nearby, but in winter or early spring only.

The most satisfying of the 3 monuments in Montiaghroe that we saw today, this roadside, three-stone stone row is hard to miss if you’re in the vicinity, maybe heading for Drumskinney stone circle up the road. The ground around the stones is boggy and is thought to contain more traces of other arrangements. The stones rise in height from SSE to NNW, the tallest over head height and almost huggable. The views are spacious to the east and south, Rotten mountain a prominent rise of the ground to the north-east.

You could easily give this one a miss and not regret anything. Worryingly, there seems to be even less stones here now than when Nucleus visited 10 years ago. What does remain are 2 stones, one .5 of a metre tall and another, choked and surrounded by a holly tree, 1.4 metres tall. The plans at the NISMR show 4 embedded stones with reports of there having been 6 in the 1940s.

Killadeas modern church and ancient graveyard is a strange little site on the eastern shores of Lower Lough Erne, about 8 kms north of Enniskillen. There are three peculiarities that may be of interest here, and one that’s definitely not for here, but deserves a mention. This latter is the Bishop’s stone, an eerie, four-sided carved, hunched figure, in relief of one side with a face to the north. It’s the best thing here but alas it’s a no-no.

The other three stones are: a relatively innocuous standing stone; a grave slab with dubious cupmarks on its back side and; probably the only true prehistoric relic, a holed stone, with half the hole embedded in the turf. The main A47 Enniskillen to Kesh road is right over the hedge and this is a fast road but there is space to park a car and access seems to be welcomed with signage and a small pedestrian gate.

The Movarran Road in Fermanagh heads north-west out of Drumskinney hamlet at the junction of Montiaghroe Road, about 700 metres south-west of the famous stone circle. It bends north in a pine plantation and heads towards the Donegal border. There is the illusion today that nothing much seems to happen in this part of North Fermanagh – a definite backwater of poor and poorly drained land, sheep farming being the mainstay, some better pasture dotted amongst the ever rising sphagnum moss.

We had made our decision to head directly north for Tawnydorragh and to work our way back down south, slightly distracted by the monuments first at Montiaghroe and then at Drumskinney, before making our way to the fringes of the forest that contained our real target. The townland itself is bordered to the north-west by Lettercran townland, Co. Donegal, not 200 metres from the rear of the tomb. However, there’s a kilometre-and-a-half to traverse before reaching there. The Scraghy road in Donegal looks like it could provide closer access, but the Termon river, which is the border, didn’t seem fordable, so we chose the forest entrance on the Movarran road.

The relief to be out again starts to ease into our spirits as we move deeper into the forest. The track heads up north-east for a short while, then north at a t-junction, twisting a bit and bending back north-west again and we spy a fox not 20 feet away in the scraggy grass. He ain’t impressed by us and skulks up towards the treeline for better cover. The track ends and we’re on dodgier ground as we head north again after another t-junction, but we know what we’re after and we pretty much know where it is, thanks to the tech gods, so our pace stays steady and even quickens the closer we get. And yet the trees are now denser, the old photo from the 70s or 80s that I saw at the NISMR that promised views all around useless.

We end up in a gully between two ridges and it’s obvious that the tomb is on one or the other. Wanting it to be on the northern one, where the sun seems to penetrate the pines, proves to be pointless – it’s on the more southerly. We burst through into the clearing from the east to be confronted by what appears to be a pile of hugely moss-covered stones, with the facade of the tomb to its right. This pile turns out to be sawn logs from the three trees were allowed to grow behind the entrance jambs in the first chamber of the gallery. At this time of the year the sun never gets high enough to penetrate the trees surrounding the clearing, but the benefit of being here now is that the growth has died back enough for us to be able to examine the remains. This is an isolated spot and we got the feeling that nobody had been here for a very long time.

The stones of the monument are satisfyingly blocky and imposing. The court was probably of the shallow variety, though only two of its stones now remain. The lintel that covered the two entrance jambs has fallen backwards into the chamber, partially held up by the southern sidestone and the tree stumps. The jambs are nearly a metres and a half tall, leading into a six metre long, two-chambered gallery. All of the southern rear chamber wall is missing – the second stone of the front chamber is weirdly eroded with runnels and wrinkles. The encrustation of the stones with mosses, grass and lichens at first had me confused – what were the stones holding up the lintel doing in the position of blocking the gallery entrance? And then it became clear with a touch – they’re rotting tree stumps, left there to stop the lintel from collapsing fully.

The rear stone of the gallery is gabled, speculated on as pointing to a corbelled roof – I guess I can go along with that – it’s pleasing either way. The atmosphere here is still and quiet, the glade inviting exploration and contemplation, but I can’t help wishing that the trees weren’t there, opening up the views – the old photo, maybe from the eighties, shows how the tomb was built on the prominence/escarpment, with some cairn kerbing visible at the rear, both to the north and south. I mooched in under the pine trees and saw some of this. My mate Thomas went further back there, down to the Termon river, reporting back that the river was in spate – just as well we didn’t try to get here from that invitingly short way. Tawnydorragh is one of those places that demands a certain level of commitment, rewarding the adventurous with a satisfaction that isn’t replicated by the easier, more accessible sites.