Clearing morning skies after showers first thing.
The cliff fort from the Terence Coventry sculpture park on the coast path.
From the southwest. I presume the higher clump in the dense vegetation marks the barrow.
It’s underneath this lot somewhere. Bring a machete if you want a closer look.
The nearest we got to the stone. Charging herd of bullocks out of sight to the left.
This large flat rock (which is probably a natural outcrop) is in the next field to the standing stone. It’s unusual as this isn’t particularly an area for outcrops like this one.
Attempted visit 29 June 2023.
After missing this one the previous week due to the excitement of Higher Boden Fogou, we opt to come here and then walk down to lovely Coverack on the coast.
Unfortunately the best laid plans, etc...
We decide to approach from the southwest. The footpath initially runs along the edge of a back garden, the owner of which seems have done their best to pretend there’s no path, then it’s over a stile into a large field.
We’re almost across the field when two horses gallop over. One of them is clearly very unhappy with our presence, rearing and stamping, and dangerously close with its flailing hooves. After passing a very large recumbent slab set into the ground surface (which looks interesting) we make a hasty exit over the next stile, which leads into a short section of an old enclosed lane. We stop here to calm our racing pulses, relieved to have escaped from the horse.
The short section of lane leads to the field with the long stone. A helpful sign board informs us that the whole field has been granted permissive access, which is excellent news. Over the stile, we’re about halfway to the stone when a rumbling noise announces a herd of horned bullocks, thundering towards us in a manner that suggests trouble. We’re forced to retreat back into the enclosed lane.
There are only two exits. The hedges on either side are impenetrable. It’s either Death by Horse, or Death by Bullock. A sense of panic sets in. We conclude that the bullocks are unlikely to intend harm, but could very easily squash us flat anyway. Whereas the unhappy horse is clearly in Attack Mode. We faff about, very uncertain what to do. Eventually we head back to the stile into the horses’ field, and the horses seem to have moved away. By virtue of the layout of the field, it might be possible to sidle over the stile and skirt around the edge of the field without being in their eyeline, but it’s risky as they can clearly run much faster than us. Running out of options, we go for this and get around their field as quickly as we can. Luckily the horses stay out of sight from us and we emerge unscathed but very shaken by the experience.
It’s a shame, because the stone looks excellent. Maybe we’ll try again in the future, but I’m not going to get stuck in the Lane of Dilemma again!
The easternmost barrow from the east.
Looking down on Daymer Bay from the easternmost barrow.
The large but badly damaged easternmost barrow.
The two eastern barrows. The second-from-east, the smallest in the group, is in the foreground.
Looking across the second-from-west barrow towards Stepper Point.
The excellent second-from-west barrow. The easternmost can be seen behind to the left.
The damaged westernmost barrow. Looking across the Camel towards Padstow.
Approaching Brea Hill from the south on the coast path from Rock. The barrows can be seen on top of the hill from here.
Visited 27 June 2023.
After meeting up with family in Padstow, G/F and I head across the River Camel on the ferry to Rock. I’d last done this 30+ years ago, when I visited St Enodoc Church, probably best known for the grave of John Betjeman in the churchyard.
Today we follow the coast path, along and over sand dunes above the river estuary. The views are fine, towards the mouth of the Camel and Stepper Point with its prominent chimney. That side of the river is where I spent most of my summer holidays in my teens, often walking along the coast path with a Walkman for company while my cousins went surfing.
At the bottom of the hill, the path narrows between banks of brambles and G/F decides to forego the climb to the top so I’m on my own. It’s short but steep, but it’s only a few minutes before I’m face to face with the westernmost of the four barrows on the top of the hill. The barrows are in a linear group, curving in a northwards arc in the middle.
The westernmost barrow has the best views of the coast, but it’s quite badly reduced in height, and its shape shows the effects of digging. The second barrow is the best-preserved of the group, a fine monument covered in turf which nevertheless reveals some stone protruding on the top. Although they look like earthen barrows they’re more likely to be stone cairns under the top-covering. The third barrow is the smallest of the group and easily missed amongst the others. At the far end of the group, the fourth barrow is the largest but the most badly damaged. There’s much more exposed stone visible in this one, as well as big crater in its top; according to the HER it was converted into a lookout post at some point, although that’s thankfully gone now.
It’s a fine little summit to climb on a summer’s day. The hill is prominent above the surroundings on all sides, so the views in all directions are extensive despite the modest height.
I head off down the steep east side of the hill, which gives a good aerial view of St Enodoc’s church, before completing the circuit and rejoining G/F for the easy walk back to Rock.
Gurnard’s Head in the centre. From the excellent rock outcrops at Carnelloe to the east.
Looking east towards Zennor Head, with Zennor Hill just visible on the skyline. At the bottom of the slope below is a round house. There were seals in the bay.
A wild place, the cliffs are steep and dangerous.
Even on a calm day, the seas crash and churn against the cliffs below the fort.
Remains of a prehistoric field system on the steep slopes below Escalls Cliff. The cairn is above the rocky tors.
The cairn from the south, with a little splash of colour from the heather.
One of the in-situ kerb stones. The rocky islands over on the right are The Brisons.
Approaching the cairn from the north. It’s not quite clear whether the boulder on the right of the mound was part of the kerb, but it may well have been.
Looking down on the entrance to the northern tunnel, which is probably the ‘artificial cave’ mentioned by the Reverend Polwhele in 1803. Assuming the stones are original, this appears to have had a very small creep entrance. The enclosure ditch is immediately below the viewpoint, running left-right along the bottom of the photo.
Looking down on the excavated section of the enclosure ditch. On the left is the entrance to the northern tunnel, which leads from the ditch to the fogou. This has been more fully explored since the photo was taken.
The fallen lintel stone lying in the main passage. Since this photo was taken, the stone has been lifted and placed back across the roof of the passage (summer 2024).
Looking east along the E-W section of the main passage.
Looking south along the N-S section of the main passage. The entrance to the western rock-cut passage is off to the right. The steps at the end lead up to ground level.
In the main passage, showing the impressive preservation of the side walls.
The eastern end of the western rock-cut passage where it joins the main passage, showing the height difference between the two sections. G/F (on the left) is standing in the main passage.
The shored up western rock-cut passage. Heading in this direction, it leads from the fogou to the outer enclosure ditch.
Looking north along the N-S section of the main passage. This is approximately same position as the viewpoint in the photo dirtyfingernails posted in 2004, with more of the passage’s floor exposed since then.
Looking west along the E-W section of the main passage. Immediately in front of and below the viewpoint, right of centre, is the entrance to the northern tunnel. David Clifton (in red shirt) is standing above the other end of the rock-cut tunnel near its junction with the enclosure ditch.
Visited 23 June 2023.
After leaving Roskruge Beacon, we headed northwest along more winding lanes past the imposing gates of Roskruge Barton. A footpath leads across a ploughed field, thankfully bone dry after a prolonged dry spell, up a gentle slope towards the site of the fogou.
I was completely unaware of either the Time Team dig here, or the ongoing excavations, so was really just hoping for some kind of glimpse of something in the corner of the field. Instead, we arrive to an active site, with two archaeologists (Peter Seabrook and David Clifton of the Meneage Archaeology Group) braving the baking heat to uncover yet more of this amazing site.
With no prompting, we get invited onto the site to see what they’re working on, and are given access to both the exposed main passage and also the scaffolding-propped tunnel to the west. It’s really impressive. The main passage is roofless but otherwise very well-preserved. It has a very unusual right-angled bend in it, beyond which a surviving lintel stone lies fallen across the passageway. The partly dug tunnel off to the west appears to be rock- or rab-cut. Back on ground level, we’re shown the tantalising end of another blocked tunnel and void to the north of the main passage. This apparently is a second rab-cut passage running from the fogou to the outer enclosure ditch and is likely to have been the ‘artificial cave’ reported by the Rev Polwhele in 1803. The Iron Age enclosure ditch is currently filled in, but was itself very deep and enclosed the whole fogou site. It’s terrific to see this second passage in the process of being encovered.
Peter shows us some of the pottery finds from the site. What a brilliant stroke of luck to find the site being worked on and to get such a great reception.
We’re pointed off in the general direction of the settlement site to the northwest. Much of this is unworked, with only some shallow trenches in place. We’re asked to stay out of the dig site, which we readily agree to. From here we carry on northwest along the footpath, which promptly vanishes and leaves us to improvise an exit from the next field.
I had intended to visit the Tremenhere standing stone today, but time at the fogou means that we no longer have long enough to get there before the infrequent bus back to Helston. It can wait for another day, this has been more than enough reward for the little effort involved in our visit.
Postscript: Since our visit in June 2023, the rock-cut northern tunnel has been fully dug out, and the fallen lintel stone we saw in the bottom of the main passage has now been lifted back into place (see link to video).
The extensive views northeast across the Fal estuary and Roseland, all the way to the Dodman.