Strange things occasionally happen at megalithic sites. That’s a given, I guess. Whether it’s due to the state of mind of the visitor, unusual magnetic variations, or other phenomena we simply don’t understand.... strange things happen.
But I guess even a completely chilled Gladman was somewhat taken aback when a lovely couple arrived at the enormously impressive Garn Turne and enquired ‘hope you don’t mind if we bury our horse?’, or words to that effect. Er, um, OK... suppose so.
Mercifully they didn’t return dragging a carcass, but a wooden casket containing the ashes of said clearly venerated beastie, which were ceremoniously and solemnly deposited within the chamber. I felt as if I’d been sucked into a wormhole and transported 5000 or so years back in time, my initial lack of enthusiasm somewhat dissipated. The engines won’t take any more, captain. But pity the poor archaeologists who revisit the site after we’re dead and gone! That’ll confuse the blighters no end.
Anyway, but what of Garn Turne’s physical attributes, then? Well, they say size isn’t everything, but sometimes – as every woman will no doubt confirm – sheer size can simply leave you breathless. Hidden away in a field screened by a very high hedge below the eponymous crag, you honestly would have no idea it was here without a map. Never one to take the easy option, I approached via the green track to the east and across the adjacent fields (unlocked field gates). The chamber boasts an ENORMOUS capstone, some very substantial orthostats forming a facade of some description and that most important quality. Vibe.
Garn Turne. Still relevant after millennia.