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Fieldnotes by Ravenfeather

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Gardom's Edge (Cup and Ring Marks / Rock Art)

Visited 7th March 2015

Third time lucky! Twice before I’ve fruitlessly searched for this cup and ring marked stone, but given the preponderance of gritstone rocks strewn around Gardoms Edge it was like looking for a needle in a huge pile of needles. Today I’ve got Andrew Johnstone’s rather excellent ‘Prehistoric Peak’ book with me, which gives excellent directions and maps, and once we had arrived back at nearby standing stone we fanned out and walked back along the edge of the woodland, where just before coming level with the Nelson monument atop Birchen Edge across the moor a likely looking large flat stone became visible.

On the edge of the trees, long afternoon shadows pick out the intricate inscribed whorls and indentations of the cups and rings on the stone. I know the visible stone is a fibreglass copy, but it’s done so well, the naturalistic colouring and speckling of lichens giving it an uncanny realism, only broken if you tap the stone. Normally I’d be in two minds about such a replica, but the fact that the original stone is still here albeit buried out of sight, and the quality of the reproduction means that things seem to work, and the original location means you don’t lose the context of the placement as you would if the stone had just been unceremoniously dug out to be placed in a museum.

The patterns on the stones are intricate and intriguing, and some the best I’ve seen in Derbyshire, so I’m glad the decision to protect them this way was made. I don’t suppose we will ever know what inspired someone several thousand years ago to take the time to carve out these markings, but they still hold the power to make us wonder today, and enjoy the beautiful surroundings in which they are set.

It’s a pleasant place to sit by the stone, whilst Ellen sketches the designs, and the sun sinks lower, bringing the motifs into even sharper relief. I’m so pleased to have finally found the place, the efforts have been worth it, and after enjoying the rock art there is nothing else for it but to head back to the Robin Hood Inn for a celebratory pint of Hobgoblin before heading for home after a great day out.

Gardoms Standing Stone (Standing Stone / Menhir)

Visited 7th March 2015

Last time I was here was in the gloaming of a summer evening after a frustrating couple of hours searching for the nearby rock art, and when the stone hove into view after my fruitless search it was an ample consolation prize. Today things are a bit more relaxed though. After a nice lunch at the nearby Robin Hood Inn (lovely veggie quiche) a walk up Gardoms edge past the Three Men cairns, brought us to the woodland where lurks the stone.

Easily hidden amongst the trees, we nevertheless managed to find the stone with a little searching. It’s an interesting menhir, charismatic and bent over like a stooped old hag as you approach through the birch trees, whilst deep curved erosion of its other face gives it a raddled aspect.

Long afternoon shadows only add to the atmosphere, but the closely surrounding trees make it difficult to discern the orientation from the penumbra of the stone, so whether it was selected to act a gnomon for a sundial, or merely because it had a distinctive shape is something for conjecture.

It’s a fine stone whatever it may have been used for, and certainly worth a visit amongst the fine walks and rich archaeological heritage of Gardoms Edge.

Five Wells (Chambered Tomb)

Visited 7th March 2015

With Spring seemingly having arrived the pull of getting out and about to visit some megaliths proved irresistible. Even better was the fact that Five Wells was somewhere I’d never been before. Not sure why it had taken me so long to visit, I’ve been coming to the peaks for the last twenty years, but perhaps Mr Cope’s terse directions of ‘requires an OS map’ in the big papery TMA had put me off in the past, possibly expecting the requirement of advanced navigation skills, or at the very least somewhere safe to leave the car. Today I’m armed with Andrew Johnstone’s terrific ‘Prehistoric Peak’ book, and its detailed directions and map make finding the place a piece of cake.

Traveling east on the A6 towards Ashton in the Water, a right turn into a lane (opposite the sign for Beech Croft Lane Caravan Park, if you get to the brown sign for Tideswell you’ve gone too far!) takes you to the Taddington recycling centre, which although operational is now fortunately nice and tidy, rather than the open sore of a landfill described in much earlier fieldnotes. Here it’s easy to park right by the start of the footpath which leads up to the hill to the chambered tomb.

It’s an impressive place, another of those hidden delights of the Peak District, and I berate myself for not visiting it before. High on its hill the substantial remains of the mound which once covered the tomb spreads out around the two chambers which remain, still giving a good impression of the circumference of the tomb in its pomp. The craggy grey stones of the uprights looking suitably time worn and ancient, nevertheless provide an excellent shelter, as I sit within the surprisingly comfortable eastern chamber to write some fieldnotes.

The construction of this place reminds me of a smaller scale Bridestones, perhaps due to the portal stones flanking the chamber, although the setting at Five Wells is much more open and airy.

As the wind feels its way around the outside of the chamber providing a soothing soundtrack, I remain snug inside with a thermos of coffee, and feel a real sense of peace and tranquility. A skylark hovering overhead serenades me, and there is something about this place, nicely situated away from it all, that seems to encourage a sense of introspection, and a feeling of being at one with the elements (or perhaps it just my old hippy sensibilities coming to the fore). It’s certainly helped by the fine blue skies today and an actual touch of warmth from the sun when out of the wind.

Views from up here are lovely, although the quarry to the north is still a bit of a blot on the landscape, but it’s nice to see that after reading the early fieldnotes about this place, how the surrounding environment and access has improved, and somewhere as special as this really deserves it.

There’s a real sense of the quickening of Spring today and of life returning to the land, and there's no better place to experience it than at Five Wells.

Stanydale Temple (Stone Circle)

Visited 11th May 2014

This was near the top of my list of must visit places on Shetland, and with the sun making an appearance through the clouds, bringing some warmth to the day, and our time left on Shetland fast diminishing, we headed for Shetland’s ‘wild west’ and the enigmatic Stanydale.

On what felt like a road to nowhere a sign and parking spot soon makes itself visible, and we squeeze the car into the layby. It feels remote here, and is one of the few places on Shetland where we’re not able to see the sea.

Setting off across the slightly squelchy moorland it’s not long before we arrive at the Neolithic house not far from the temple. Like Carl before us we sit in the remains of this ancient dwelling, and just take in the atmosphere. Cracking open the Thermos we have a cup of tea, drinking in the peace and quiet as much as the PG Tips, and wondering what the venerable farmer who constructed this place would have thought about a pair of visitors supping tea in his house some four millennia later?

As we press on for the temple, shadows from the clouds and ever changing light play across the heath and with only the lonely cries of birds as a soundtrack we feel as if we’ve stepped into another world. Soon the structure of the ‘temple’ is visible, the small wooden gate guarding the entrance opening into a well-kept interior, the grass mown to a standard that wouldn’t look out of place on the greens of a championship golf course.

It’s certainly an unusual place. Thick stone walls delineate a horseshoe shaped building, which apparently, according to the conclusions of an excavation in 1949, was similar in size and plan to temples found on Malta, hence leading to Stanydale’s ‘temple’ epithet. Inside the enclosure the large stones which make up the walls are chunky blocks, rare in this vicinity, and so again according to the 1949 dig, must have been brought some distance, a lot of trouble to go to if it was purely meant as a domestic structure perhaps, as there are plenty of suitable other types of stone for building nearby. Looking closely at the large upright stones as well I’m struck by the natural patterns on them, different coloured shapes on the stone caused by lichens giving a mosaic like effect. There are also two large postholes inside, from which charred spruce was found, the nearest source of which in Neolithic times would have been Scandinavia, unless of course they were found as driftwood?

I have a wander around the exterior, taking in the standing stones which are dotted around the perimeter of the temple. There appears to be a defined arc of stones to the south, perhaps the structure was once surrounded by them, but now it’s difficult to make out the overall layout of the stones.

Sitting back inside Stanydale to write my notes I’m struck but what a strange and unique place it is. It seems much more than just a grand dwelling, or even a fancy ‘village hall’ type of meeting place, something about its layout, the exterior stones, and three fire hearths (which again according to the excavations were not typical of domestic settings). It strikes me that I’m reminded of the main structure at Barnhouse, near Stenness on Orkney, where I was sitting only a week ago. Although the design of the two structures are very different, something about them feels the same, and I’m convinced this place had a ritual function, an old cliché I know, and based on little more than my own ‘feelings’ of the place and some sketchy evidence (no wonder I never got that Archaeology degree!)

What I can say with certainty is that Stanydale is most certainly a great place to visit. It feels both remote and welcoming, certainly unique, and a perfect place to spend some time, sheltered here from the wind, with the sun overhead, we just don’t want to leave. Magical.

Stone of Setter (Standing Stone / Menhir)

Visited 17th May 2014

I’ve heard the Stone of Setter described as the finest standing stone in Orkney, now that’s certainly some claim given the lovely menhirs I’ve seen around the islands, so I was eager to put the claim to the test and hang out with the stone on my visit to Eday.

Anticipation built when the distant form of the stone appeared on the horizon as I walked north up the island’s main (well only really) road. The watery expanse of Mill loch borders the stone to one side, whilst the xanthous gorse filled slopes of the high ground of Vinquoy hill provide it with a suitably dramatic backdrop. The stone itself sits on a small saddle of land, raised and distinct from the surrounding landscape, and almost like a marker delineating the sacred area of tombs clustered at Eday’s high northern end, perhaps in a way analogous to the Watchstone on Mainland marking out the start of the Ness of Brodgar?

It’s always exhilarating when a place is in sight, and as the stone grows ever closer, I reach the Eday community shop, and stopping only to fuss a very cute cat hanging around outside, I turn left and follow the road by the loch. A sign pointing toward the stone indicated the start of the path for the Eday heritage trail, and this close up the scale of the Stone of Setter becomes clear. A great block of ruddy red sandstone standing fifteen feet tall rearing up before you, huge weathered grooves eroded into the top of the stone which is enshrouded with Orkney’s familiar lichens. It is both dramatic and beautiful.

I sit down at the base of the stone, so happy to be here, and tired after the walk. The sun is out, but with plenty of clouds about threatening to encroach on the day. I write my fieldnotes and eat my packed lunch, before embarking on the photographs. The stone takes on a different shape from each aspect. From the front on it seems to resemble a giant hand emerging from the earth ordering you to halt before it, whilst from the side it appears like a figure staring out over the loch.

Nearby are the low outlined remains of a handful of structures that the nearby information board ominously refers to as ‘de-fleshing’ chambers which may possibly have been used in rituals associated with the stone (ah the old ‘ritual use’ explanation again!) . It gets me wondering whether this was an excarnation site, similar to that postulated at the Tomb of the Eagles (although I know there is some debate as to whether excarnation did actually take place there). Given the proximity to the tombs which are scattered about Vinquoy hill, (indeed one of them, Braeside, is directly aligned with the stone) it doesn’t seem beyond the realms of possibility that the stone symbolised a transformative place where the dead were turned from their earthly fleshy form to the stone-like bones of their skeletal remains, then to be placed amongst the ancestors watching over them.

This is one of the things I love about visiting our ancient and enigmatic monuments, thinking about what role they may have played in the lives of our forbearers and their place amongst the landscape, it’s fun to speculate. If it was once the marker for a place of the dead there’s certainly no sinister atmosphere here, quite the opposite in fact though, it feels more of a joyful, transformational place.

So the best standing stone in Orkney? At present it’s indubitably the Stone of Setter, but I won’t take that as being set in stone!

Vinquoy (Chambered Tomb)

Visited 17th May 2014

It’s only possible to get to Eday and back in a day on Saturdays, it’s also rather extortionately expensive to take the car. So since the island is only 8 miles in length, and I like a good walk, then an epic trek taking in as many ancient sites as I could in a day trip on the island was the plan. The downside of this of course is that time has to be carefully managed, one eye always on the clock lest you miss the ferry home (I had the misfortune to do that on island of Rousay once, and wasn’t keen to repeat it!). This also means you just don’t get long enough to spend at somewhere as good as Vinquoy.

Vinquoy is the highest point on Eday, and the mound atop the hill has been prominent for miles. This is the main event for me on today’s trip, so I’ve walked briskly nearly the whole length of the island, not having seen a single soul in the last three hours. After passing the wonderful Stone of Setter, I start on up the hill toward the tomb. Vinquoy hill, whilst not exactly a Munroe, is taking it out of me now, my rucksack feels as if the Trows have put a few rocks in it whilst I wasn’t looking, but as I approach the mound, atop the hill, the fine masonry of its entranceway enticingly visible, all the fatigue falls away.

I open the small gate which bars the passage, and stoop into the long, slightly curving entranceway. Wooden planks have been placed along the damp passageway to avoid having to shuffle through the mud, and soon I’m in the inner chamber and able to stand up. Inside it’s wonderful. A tall corbelled roof, and four side chambers, two to each side are visible. But it’s the atmosphere inside this place which is sublime. The warm red colour of the Eday sandstone used to construct the tomb, provides a russet glow, whilst ferns cascade from the upper masonry of the walls, and a strange white lichen almost glows in the gloom.

A circuar skylight admits some illumination, along with a small vent, which is visible from outside the tomb, sticking up like a little chimney atop the mound. This combines to give the inner chamber an airy quality, and lets the place breathe, much better than the stuffy concrete capped burial mounds you can see on Rousay, thank goodness Callender and Grant didn’t get their hands on this one!

I take a look into the side chambers, their entrances are very low, and trying to squeeze in with backpack, camera and assorted accoutrements, would leave me plastered with mud for the day, so I’ll leave that for next time, a valuable excuse to return, as if I needed one!
I spend quite some time inside. Vinquoy has one of the most special atmospheres of any tomb on Orkney. I think the combination of a well preserved internal structure, the warm coloured stone, and fantastic vegetation all combine to make it somewhere truly special. I really have to force myself to leave, it feels as if I’ve stumbled into one of those fairy entrances to the otherworld.

When I emerge back out I’m pleased to see that hundreds of years haven’t elapsed since I went in (although looking at the landscape, you’d probably be hard pressed to tell if they had, so unspoiled is it, only a handful of wind turbines letting you know you’re in the 21st century at all.) Looking around from atop the hill the views are great, the Stone of Setter still prominent below by Mill Loch, and islands scattered around to either side, a truly fantastic place. It may require some effort to get to, but Vinquoy stands there proudly with the best chambered tombs that Orkney can offer, it’s really something special.

Braeside (Chambered Tomb)

Visited 17th May 2014

This is yet another impressive tomb on the Eday Heritage trail in the Vinquoy area, the yellow of the gorse on the hillside contrasting with the blue of the sea ahead, and the denuded remains of the tomb are clearly visible as you head towards the hill.

Dug into but still large, the remains of the bank around it giving an idea of the size it would once have been, which would have been a substantial mound by the looks of it, a shame that only an adumbration of its form remains. A southern entrance passage is still visible which opens into a narrow stalled chamber, a couple of orthostats still standing to show where one of the compartments was. The entrance passage is particularly interesting in that is offset slightly, by 10° from the axis of the chamber, so that it aligns directly with the nearby Stone of Setter.

Standing in the entranceway you get a great sightline of the standing stone, or rather you would if someone in the past hadn’t built a stone byre directly in the way! It’s still possible to see the alignment though as long as you move yourself off centre slightly.

I manage to find a small information sign about the tomb attached to a post, which had fallen over and now lies prone in the grass. This indicated that there would have been three pairs of stalls within the chamber, and that it was excavated by Farrer in the 1850’s, probably leaving it in the state it’s in today.

Although battered it’s got a certain charm. In some way it reminded of a truncated version of the Cairn O’ Get in Caithness, not sure why as it’s different in layout, it just had that ‘feel’ to it that some of the tombs you find in Caithness have, I also find it interesting that on the slopes of Vinquoy hill we have three very different designs of tombs, the stalled cairn of Braeside, double-decker special of Huntersquoy, and mini Maes Howe style Vinquoy. I wonder why that is? It’s almost as if this part of Eday was like a chambered tomb showroom, where you could pick out the style of monument you’d like for your own Neolithic community! Or it could be I suppose a very special place where different communities came together, each bringing their own style of tomb to the area.

I still think it’s a very special place, and a nice appetizer for the delights of Vinquoy just atop the hill ahead.

Huntersquoy (Chambered Tomb)

Visited 17th May 2014

On the slopes of Vinquoy hill an intriguing entranceway seems to open up into the heart of the hillside. Once it was a fine rare double-decker construction, but now all that remains of the upper chamber is a few stones to delineate the skeleton of the top part of the tomb.

There is a small information sign from the Eday Heritage Walk attached to a post nearby, which indicated that the upper chamber had a west facing passage, whilst the lower chamber faced to the east, just like Taversoe Tuick. It’s an intriguing design, and I wonder if there were any more tombs built like this which are lost to us now, or was this incredibly specialised design purely a local innovation amongst the folk of the northern Orkney’s? Farrer excavated here in 1855 but didn’t seem to come up with any answers, I wonder if there’s been any investigations since?

The sign, as well as prior fieldnotes, indicated that the lower chamber was generally flooded, but I’m ever optimistic, and there’s not been much rain on Orkney the past couple of weeks (well not much by Orcadian standards anyway!). When I bend down to take a look though it’s clear there is a fair amount of water in the passageway. Some tentative prodding with a nearby twig lets me gauge that there is about a good three inches of water in the interior, certainly high enough to come over my boots, and as I’d have to stoop I’d probably end up with sodden trousers too . It generally takes a lot to deter me on visiting somewhere, but lacking wellingtons, waterproofs a towel or change of clothes, the thought of tramping around for the rest of the day soaked to the skin and slowly becoming hypothermic is enough to stop me today.

I settle instead, like Ubik before me, for shining the torch down the passage to take a look. It’s swathed with ferns which grow along the entranceway, and the light of my torch reflecting off the water does little to drive away the shadows which occlude the chamber. According to the information sign it’s supposed to be a Bookan type of cairn, with compartments set around a central space. Although incredibly adept at dry stone construction, drainage obviously wasn’t the Neolithic Eday folks forte, and it’s frustrating not to be able to go in and check it out, as I’d love to see how similar the lower chamber was to Taversoe Tuick’s, but in the immortal words of Arnie ‘I’ll be back!’

What I am pleased to see is that there is no sign of any of the rubbish as mentioned in Ubik’s fieldnotes, although copious amounts of wool bob about on the water, so obviously sheep aren’t put off entering (or perhaps they just want a bath?). It’s an intriguing place, the entrance passage which seems to lead into the bowels of the earth reminds me a bit of the Rhiw burial chamber, and the placing on the slopes of the hill, with the Vinquoy tomb prominent on the horizon, and the Stone of Setter standing proud to the south, obviously mark this part of the island out as having some special significance.

Huntersquoy is an intriguing site on the Eday Heritage Trail, just don’t expect to get inside without a wetsuit!

Quanterness (Chambered Tomb)

Visited 14th May 2014

As anyone who’s read some of my previous fieldnotes will know I’ve got a pretty blasé attitude towards trespassing in order to visit an ancient site. Of course I always make sure never to cause any damage to anything and act in a considerate manner at all times, but there are some occasions where I would draw the line, and one of those is where I feel I would be infringing on someone’s privacy.

Quanterness is one of those cases, the mound of the barrow sitting in what looks like a small walled garden next to a farmhouse. In these situations there is nothing for it but to either settle for a view from a distance, or knock on someone’s door. I’ve settled for a distant view before, and as I’ve written in the past I never feel as if I’ve had a satisfying visit unless I’ve been able to set foot on/in or otherwise touch the site. I can’t really explain why, I just need to feel that sense of ‘connection’. Now being a somewhat reserved and unsociable type there’s nothing I dislike more than having to ask a stranger for permission to visit part of our cultural heritage, but knowing that in general the Orcadian folk are friendly, and not wanting to appear the worst kind of ferry-louper, I man up and approach the farmhouse, getting ready to try explain exactly why I would like to more closely examine the undistinguished grassy lump in their garden.

At this moment I’m saved by the arrival of the postman (no not the veteran TMA contributor!) who on attempting to deliver a parcel to said address quickly determines that there is no-one at home. The gate leading to the mound clearly stands open, so I decide to take a closer look, vowing that if I see anyone returning to the house I’ll come out and ask for their permission.

Through the gate the mound sits in a clearing surrounded by trees. Bluebells and wildflowers are scattered around the perimeter, and the dappled sun under the branches casts a warm light over the area. It’s quite wild here, the fact that it’s not a manicured garden both puts me at more ease about visiting, and also adds to the atmosphere of the site. The perfect mound ringed with flowers looks like something straight out of The Shire, and as I approach the grassy hump, and happily sit on its flank I almost expect to find a hobbit sized door in the side. There’s nothing more to see than the green mound nestled amongst the trees though, but it’s nice to be here on a sunny day, experiencing that sense of connection again with our ancient past.

When compared with the embarrassment of megalithic riches on offer just a stone’s throw away around Mainland, Quanterness is probably unlikely to top anybody’s list of must visit sites. You can catch a glimpse as you pass Quanterness farm on the main A965 near Kirkwall (just look for the trees and you’ll see the mound peeking out) which will probably be enough for most busy modern antiquarian’s, but I’m glad I’ve finally stood here, at just another reminder of these isles rich Neolithic history.

Wideford Hill (Chambered Cairn)

Visited 14th May 2014

Wideford Hill holds a special place for me, I must have more fieldnotes from this place than any other ancient site, its combination of fantastic views, impressive construction and overall sense of presence, makes it a one of Orkney’s best chambered tombs.

I see the tomb perched on its hill often as I pass by on the Stromness to Kirkwall road, and I always make a point of visiting here at least once each time we are in Orkney, and as today, I like to walk from the house in Kirkwall out of town on the Old Finstown Road, before ascending the hill to the cairn, like a pilgrimage of sorts.

The day is filled with beautiful sunshine today, the hill a beacon ahead of me as I walk. It’s a good hours trek from Kirkwall, although of course you can drive and park near the top of the hill if you want easier access. The path that curls around the flanks of the hill which leads to the tomb is dry today after the recent clement weather, but at times can be difficult going, its peaty, muddy surface often rough, so a good pair of boots is advisable. The old gate with the woollen ‘offerings’ mentioned by Carl is still next to the path, and just beyond in the distance you can make out the fence that surrounds the tombs enclosure.

As you circumvent the hill the views open up over the Wide Firth looking out down Mainland, with Finstown spread out around the bay, and the sister tomb of Cuween hill just visible on the horizon if you know where to look.

The layered wedding-cake like construction of the tomb stands out, the stonework exposed and giving a fine example of how these corballed tombs would look beneath their grassy mounds. Checking on the ‘municipal’ torch (how many of these would find ‘doon sooth’?) I’m pleased to see it’s all present and correct, and in working order, although once I slide open the rooftop entry hatch the bright morning sunlight floods the chamber and its clear no torch will be needed today.

Inside the cool damp exterior I sit and soak up the vibes. The corballed stonework is exquisite and two low entrances enticingly open into side chambers. Today I’m content just to sit in the main chamber, not wishing to get myself too muddy by squeezing into the side cells. It was in one of these cells that I experienced what I can only describe as a presence, the first time I was ever here some fifteen years ago. As I sat inside the chamber in total darkness, I became convinced there was someone else in there. I could even hear their breath in the silent chamber, but as I reached out, all I could feel were the cold chamber walls. It didn’t feel at all threatening at the time, quite the opposite in fact, and I felt a real sense of welcome and belonging, and since then I’ve always felt Wideford Hill was a special place.

After a while I emerge back into the sunlight, and sit atop the cairn to write my fieldnotes. Mainland seems stretched out before you and it’s easy to recognise why this was designated as a sacred space. It still feels that way now, come and visit and experience some of Orkney’s magic for yourself.

Islesburgh (Chambered Cairn)

Visited 12th May 2014

This was the highlight for me of our visits to Shetland ‘old stones’. After seeing some pictures of it in Charles Tait’s Shetland Guidebook (an excellent guide by the way, we found it indispensable on our trip) and reading that it was one of the best preserved examples of a heel shaped cairn on Mainland it was a place I really wanted to visit.

Our first attempt was two days ago, under grey clad skies, spitting rain, and the kind of incessant biting cold wind you only get at 60? north. We walked to Mavis Grind and looked around the headland to see if we could spot the cairn. It didn’t look far on the map but knowing from bitter experience that this can be deceiving, and lacking any visual point of reference we soon have to retreat to the car to thaw out.

What a difference a couple of days make though, today you couldn’t ask for better weather, the sun feels positively warm, and although a constant wind still blows it is light and lacking in any bite, so a return to Northmavine is on the agenda.

Parking at the large layby right next to Mavis Grind the deep azure of the North Sea and Atlantic, flank us to either side. I thought to bring the binoculars today, and standing next the remains of the dragons teeth tank traps left over from the war at the head of Minn bay I scan the headland, and spot the cairn.

We set off around the coast, at first the going is steep as you have to first climb and then descend the high headland, but as we came down the other side with the cairn in view and the sun sparkling on the beautiful waters of the bay I can’t think of a finer place to go for a walk.
A path is visible, with the occasional stile over a fence, and we encounter a sheep, which looks as if it has just given birth, its lamb still tottering on unsteady legs and being licked clean by its mother. Trying not to disturb the pair we detour slightly around, the cairn now tantalisingly close.

When we reach it I’m taken aback. Although a small heel shaped cairn its frontage remains, nine smallish stones forming a curved forecourt, which opens into a short entrance passage and chamber. The siting of the monument is exquisite, overlooking the Atlantic side of Mavis Grind and sheltered in its own bay you couldn’t wish for a nicer view to look out at over eternity.

I sit in the cairn, which turns out to be a right little suntrap, and completely sheltered, possibly one of the cosiest little cairns I’ve ever seen. Movement by the rocks next to the water below suggests the presence of otters, but today they are hiding from us. We find a bone talon amongst some rocks near the shore, and it leads me to wondering whether there was any similarity between burial rights and customs seen here with those such as at the Tomb of the Eagles on Orkney? I resolve to look up any information on excavations or finds made here to see what current theories are.

The chambered cairns and tombs found on Shetland tend to be much smaller and less complex than their Orcadian contemporaries, the forecourting and shape seemingly sharing more similarities with monuments found in Caithness, but something in the siting of these places, and how they fit in the landscape seems to resonate with the Orcadian monuments, perhaps because they are both island communities?

We spend quite some time here, and don’t see another living soul, it’s only a one mile walk from the car, although certainly steep in places, it only took us about twenty minutes, and yet we could be in the middle of nowhere. This is one of the nicest places I’ve ever been, perfect natural beauty and peace, combined with the fine remains of a lovely little chambered cairn. The only sounds are the calls of birds and the lap of the sea as it enters the bay via a narrow passage, and these are the perfect accompaniment to the absolute feelings of peace and restfulness you can experience here.

We leave Shetland today to return back to Orkney, and this has been a magical way to end our trip, if you ever make it this far north come here and see one of Shetlands lesser known megalithic gems.

Stews (Standing Stone / Menhir)

Visited 7th May 2014

It’s a gorgeous day as we head down to South Ronaldsay on my obsessive quest to visit every little mark on the O.S. map that could possibly be an ancient site. Today will be a treat though, as I’m on the hunt for a standing stone, which should hopefully be more visible than some of the indeterminate lumps and bumps I encounter when looking for some of the more obscure sites I’ve yet to see.

Traveling south down the main A961 on South Ronaldsay the red phone box, just after the turn to Sandwick, makes a good indicator of the left turn you need to take into the lane which leads to the stone. The lane narrows and becomes more potholed, looking as if it will peter out at any minute, but putting our faith in the O.S. map and persevering with the bumpy conditions brings us to a handy parking spot at the end of the road. You can access a path down to the beach from here, but our destination lies in the opposite direction, as we head towards the stone that we’d spotted on our approach, near the crest of the hill behind us.

Clambering over a field gate just up the lane, back the way we’d come, gave us access into the field adjacent to that which held the stone, clearly visible and beckoning us on, and an open entranceway took us into its field.

The stone at Stews is around 6’ in height, fenced in behind a low and rickety barbed wire enclosure, the reddish stone is almost entirely swathed in Orkney’s ubiquitous lichens. I step over the barbed wire fence so as to get up close and personal with the stone, and settled myself down, relatively comfortably perched amongst the chocking stones visible around the base.

The siting of the stone is divine, fine views open out to sea, looking out across Newark Bay. The mossy stone is cushioned against my back, the sun warm on my face, the honking of Greylag Geese strutting around the moorland at the top of the hill the only sounds to be heard, and I could almost doze off sat here in the little barbed wire pen.

I take my typical variety of photo’s from every conceivable angle, whilst Ellen photographs me looking like an exhibit in a human zoo, (the rare lesser spotted megalith enthusiast in their natural habitat!). This is another of those stones that takes on a different appearance from each angle, looking like a stout pillar from the side on, the other faces being triangular and fin-like. It’s a lovely spot here, easy to get to and a stone that’s well worth a visit. On a day like today we take advantage afterwards and head down to the beach, a lovely stretch of sand that we’ve got completely to ourselves, well if you don’t count the Oystercatchers!

East Burrafirth (Chambered Cairn)

Visited 11th May 2014

Winding our way around the scenic west side of Mainland after a visit to Staneydale Temple, and the landscape is like Scandinavia in miniature, each turn of the road allowing a vista over another fjord like sheltered inlet, and occasional coloured wooden houses clustered together around the coast. I’m navigating whilst Ellen drives, and I suggest we head towards Aith, a village our information leaflet optimistically describes as ‘a large township in a scenic setting’. Whilst Ellen has visions of a little coastal town replete with coffee shops, my ulterior motive is that I’ve spotted those magical words ‘chambered cairn’ on the O.S. map right next to the road we will follow out of the village.

While I wouldn’t exactly describe Aith as large in any shape or form, it’s certainly in a picturesque setting, but sadly lacking anywhere to get a coffee, so onwards we go around the coast of Aith Voe, before the promised cairn appears in a field to our left.

There is a handily placed passing place right by the fieldgate, so we pull in. Ellen stays in the car, worried me might block the road should we be caught up in the Shetland rush hour, but given that the volume of traffic along this road seems to be at best one car per hour, I think we’ll be pretty safe.

I open the gate and am approached by two curious rams, who look at me expectantly as if I’ve brought them some food, and follow me at a distance to the nearby cairn.

It’s a small structure, a ‘peerie’ mound as they’d say in these parts, but despite being dug into, denuded and raddled with rabbit holes, enough of the form remains to give a good impression. Large stones outline the central chamber, and again the siting of the monument takes in a lovely vista overlooking a sheltered bay, in this case East Burra Firth itself.

I really like it here, I know I always seem to wax enthusiastic about each new site I find, but it does have an indefinable atmosphere, a certain pull here which gives the place a presence beyond the size of its actual physical remains. Maybe it’s the setting, or perhaps the joy of finding somewhere new but I loved it. I do my usual thing of taking photos from every conceivable angle and sit in the dip of the mound to write my fieldnotes, sheltered from the wind. I don’t want to leave Ellen on her own in the car for too long, and she’s still reticent about entering the field, more so now due to the rams still giving me the eyeball from near the gate, so before long I bid my goodbyes to the cairn, farewell East Burrafirth, it was lovely to make your acquaintance.

Mid Field (Standing Stone / Menhir)

Visited 9th May 2014

When picking a megalith to visit just on the basis of that intriguing gothic script saying ‘standing stone’ on the O.S. map you never know quite what you are going to get. But in the case of Mid Field what you get is a fine stone in a beautiful setting looking out over South Voe.

On the drive down West Burra we had a close encounter with an otter, which ran out across the road right in front of the car (fortunately we managed to stop in time!). It really is picturesque here.

As Carl mentions in his fieldnote the stone is easy to spot from the minor road south of Bridge End. We pulled up in a passing place almost adjacent to the stone, and at first I head down to the end of the fence to access the field via a gate. On getting there though I notice an assemblage of sheep pen fencing forming an enclosure next to the gate, with visions of the whole lot collapsing were I to clamber over it, I think again. Never one to be deterred though when it comes to visiting stones I turn to plan B, and looking as if I’m about to emulate a John Cleesesque silly walk, manage to step over the relatively low fence.

There are no sheep in the field today though, only three rather friendly Shetland ponies. The stone is fin shaped and angled towards the loch below, with the surrounding hills providing an impressive backdrop. With this stone it’s all about the location, the relatively modest proportions of the stone belying the overall impact it has when you are here.

Burra is only around ten miles from Lerwick, and easily accessible, and I can only echo Carl’s words and say come and pay it a visit!

The Busta Stone (Standing Stone / Menhir)

Visited 10th May 2014

Heading up Mainland for Northmavine the clouds were gathering in already overcast skies, but you don’t come to Shetland for the weather, rather for its wild landscapes, wildlife and of course a rather generous selection of standing stones.

The Busta stone is one such impressive monolith, and easy to spot from the A970 just past Brae.
Turning off the main road we parked in a small layby next to a cattle grid, the other side of which was the gate allowing access to the field, empty today apart from the stone itself.

The wind was whipping at us as we approached, the bulk of the stone looming high above us, and providing a seemingly warming embrace, as we huddled in its lea out of the wind. The stone is huge, it’s difficult to get an idea of its scale until you stand next to it, the ever present shrubby lichen masking its top half.

This is a great location for a standing stone, looking out over the waters of Busta Voe, and one face of the stone does indeed seem to take on the aspect of a head rising from the ground, the lichen like a blindfold over its eyes. Canmore mentions a possible second stone, now fallen, to the east, and whilst I did notice a smaller stone nearby protruding from the ground, I didn’t really think to check it out, thinking it probably natural.

The huge granite lump of the stone seems somehow smaller as we walk away, swallowed in the wild landscapes of Shetland, but it’s certainly one of the more accessible menhirs here, and a must visit in these far flung northern parts.

Later on returning from the hinterlands of Northmavine we pass the stone again as we follow in Carl’s footsteps and call in for some chips at Frankie’s, and have no hesitation in recommending both the chippie and the stone!

Salt Knowe (Round Barrow(s))

Visited 6th May 2014

Gorgeous day at Brodgar. I walked over to the huge mound of Salt Knowe, still currently fenced off, to see how the anti-rabbit proofing was getting on. It didn't take long before I had my answer, as several families of bunnies could be seen happily enjoying the sunshine on the slopes of the mound.

The green matting used to cover the Knowe currently gives it a threadbare appearance, and several holes leading to burrows were clearly visible gnawed through the mesh, so it looks like a rethink may be in order!

The Cairnhead, Hunda (Cairn(s))

Visited 7th May 2014

Hunda is a small uninhabited island attached to the larger isle of Burray by a causeway. As well as being a great place to see birds, seals and apparently one of the best spots on Orkney for otter spotting, it also sports the remains of a hulking great cairn.

The weather today is as good a day as you could wish for, lovely blue skies, some genuine warmth to the sun, and the warm zephyr like breeze is most un-Orcadian. So after a nice lunch at the café of the Burray Rock & Fossil museum a walk was in order, and even better one that takes in a visit to an ancient site. A short drive south past the waters of Echna loch, brings you to a right turn signposted to Littlequoy, and following the lane to its end, near the farm of the same name, gave us a bit of verge on which we could park the car.

The sea sparkled blue below us, and we could see Hunda stretched out across the narrow sound, with the causeway of Hunda reef cutting through the water. A walk down the farm track allows you to access the foreshore without having to walk across the farmyard, and we walked along the pebbly beach to the causeway accompanied by the echoing cries of Oystercatchers.

The causeway is a permanent one, not cut off by tides, so no danger of stranding on a barren island today, although care must be taken on its slightly uneven surface, and I certainly wouldn’t attempt to cross in bad weather, as I’m sure it could be fairly easily overtopped by waves, so as ever on any visit a certain amount of caution is required.

The cairn at Cairnhead is clearly visible on the southern tip of the island as we cross the causeway, two modern cairns at either end of it sticking up like small ears. A clearly trodden path leads all around the coast of Hunda, and we follow it across a small stretch of heathland up to the cairn.

Up close its size is impressive, the top is now heavily denuded of stones, looking as if someone’s taken a giant scoop out of it, but it does uncover what might be the remains of a cist. The two modern cairns at either end delineate the width of the mound, and make it an unmistakable landmark. We sit at the cairn and relax for a while enjoying the lovely views out over Scapa Flow. The blues of sky and sea are almost surreal, and the bright pinprick of light from the Flotta flare at the oil terminal to the west marks the horizon. Due south the cairn of The Wart, atop Hoxa Hill on South Ronaldsay is directly in line, and I wonder if there is any significance in the alignment?

Canmore reckons The Cairnhead may have been a broch, but I just don’t see it myself, I can’t find any features that are vaguely ‘brochlike’, yet a cist chamber is visible? Hmm, well they’re the experts I suppose.

Whatever it may have been (and sometimes the uncertainty just adds to the mystery of the place) this is a lovely spot, made all the better by the solitude. Ellen and I are currently the only human beings on this island, and relaxing here, contemplating, and just watching and listening to the myriad of birds that make this place their home, pervaded by the atmosphere of this ancient place, the magic of Orkney has us captivated once again.

Dunbeath Broch

Visited 3rd May 2014

There’s a wildness to the far north of Scotland, a bleak beauty and atmosphere quite unlike anywhere else, and surprisingly more ancient remains than you might realise. On our regular trips back up to Orkney we’ve been making an effort to try and visit at least one new place each time. Today the lucky site was Dunbeath broch, a nice and easily accessible site to break up our ten hour drive.

The A9 normally thunders past the village of Dunbeath, but if you take the time to turn off and park at the Dunbeath heritage centre, an old mill signposted from the turn and a mere minute from the A9, you’ll be right next to a nice footpath which leads to the broch, as well as, according to the nearby information board, a few other enticing megalithic sites.

The walk along the Strath of Dunbeath is beautiful, the babbling of the river a gentle accompaniment to your stroll, with little sound other than that of birds to be heard. The trees flanking the path are shrouded with a pale green moss, which hangs from the branches in wisps, and adds to the ethereal atmosphere.

Soon we are confronted by a slightly wonky looking Indiana Jones style wooden suspension bridge over the river, which despite my remonstrance’s to Ellen about its structural integrity, wobbles and creaks in such as precarious manner as to cause her some consternation. I scoot across it, and with some encouragement Ellen joins me on the other side, where the path forks. Directly ahead the path heads up a steep incline, at the top of which a dry stone wall is visible enclosing a stand of trees, and within which I know the broch can be found.

The broch is not the biggest or best preserved I’ve ever seen, but any shortcomings it might have are more than made up for by its atmosphere. Inside the enclosure of the dry stone walls a circle of moss covered trees protectively surround the remains of the broch. The open tower interior faces you, with the highest remaining parts of the walls at the back, and a small entranceway to a chamber built into the thickness of the wall encouraging you in. Although a low stoop is required to enter the chamber once inside it’s possible to stand upright, the roof, displaying fine corbelling, must be a good 7’ high.

I’m impressed with Dunbeath. As I walk around the exterior of the ruined broch wild primroses can be seen growing in clumps at the base of the walls, the sheltering trees reach out skeletal, branch like fingers over the tower, and mosses and grass colonising the still firm masonry give a sense of the broch gradually settling into the landscape and becoming another part of nature. I feel like I’ve stumbled upon something from a landscape out of Game of Thrones, but of course this is better because it’s real, and I’m here, enjoying just another part of Caithness’ rich historic remains.

We’re conscious of the time, having a ferry to catch, but it’s been much better spending time here rather than hanging around in Scrabster waiting for the boat (if you’ve ever been to Scrabster you’ll appreciate why!) and it’s a place that definitely warrants a return visit, especially since a visit to the broch can be combined with a lovely tree lined walk which continues along the river and on to some chambered cairns and a standing stone further down the valley.

Trippet Stones (Stone Circle)

Visited 9th March 2014

Another session of Google Earth scrying along with Ocifants excellent directions, led me to believe this site would be easily to visit on the way home from our holiday in Cornwall. So with the sun blazing down from a clear sky, and with the car packed and ready for home, we started our journey north with at least the promise of a stone circle on the way to keep our spirits up.

Heading north we took a left turn off the A30 signposted ‘St Breward 4’, which I recognised from my earlier Google reconnaissance, and heading across the small moorland road, we first saw what appeared to be several small standing stones dotted about, along with a variety of other interesting looking lumps and bumps.

Soon we spotted the circle itself off to our right, the telegraph pole right next to it providing an unmissable landmark. I’d intended to turn right at the first crossroads up the farm track towards the circle and park near Hawkstor farm, but on arrival the track looked in a poor state, a huge gouge out of the surface leaving a nasty dip to be negotiated in order to pass. Fearing for the car’s suspension, and with still another 250 miles to drive before getting home, I decided not to risk it and instead turned left towards Treswigga, and taking the example of another couple of cars, pulled up on the spacious verge.

No maps were needed today, the visibility perfect, the stones of the circle beckoning to us across the moor. The pull of a previously unvisited site causes me to hurry past what looks like a small stone row, but I vow to investigate on the way back, and soon I’m here in the centre of the stones, looking out over the empty moorland and soaking up the atmosphere. As Postie says, there is a feeling of ‘bigness’ here far out of scale with the actual size of the stones or circle, probably the wide skies and open moorland give it a sense of a larger landscape.

The circle of eleven remaining stones (or is it twelve, we seemed to get different results each time we counted!) looks as if it’s had a battering over the ages, but I’m pleased to see that currently there are no signs of erosion by livestock around the stones themselves. A small central stone, and two further outliers which line up to it intrigue, but on closer investigation it’s clear that they don’t fit with the rest of the circle, the carvings of ‘M’ and ‘C’ on them pretty much confirming their use as boundary stones across the moor. Normally this sort of interference with a site would annoy me, particularly when it’s a result of the imposition of artificial fences or boundaries that impact on things (I’ll stop there before I start on a rant about the ‘ownership’ of land!), but here it just sort of fits in. In fact there is an absolute air of relaxation about the whole visit. Maybe it’s the unseasonable warmth of the sun, maybe it’s just the vibe of the place but I’m feeling particularly laid back, and just suffused with an aura of happiness and wellbeing. Ellen feels it too, so it’s not just me coming over all hippyish, and we sit in the circle with a flask of coffee and some very lovely chocolate muffins from the bakers in St. Just, and just chill out. On a day like this people will be flocking to the Cornish beaches, but nice as it is to be beside the seaside, I’d rather be here on a lonely moor, away from the crowds at this lovely ancient place. A couple of dog walkers are visible in the distance, but no-one else seems to pay the circle any mind, or intrude on our blissful solitude.

While Ellen goes off to take photographs I recline on a recumbent stone and feel so completely relaxed I’m almost drifting off to sleep, the gentle susurrations of the traffic from the nearby A30 and the tweeting of birds providing a soothing soundtrack, and from my prone position looking around it’s almost as if the circle sits within a natural amphitheatre of hills, with the rocky outcrops of Carbilly and Hawk’s Tor looming large on the horizon, and the moon visible in the sky hanging over the circle only enhancing the numinous atmosphere.

I’d love to have visited the nearby Stipple stones while we were here, but we’d already spent nearly two hours at the circle, and with a pint at the Jamaica Inn calling, and a further four hours of driving ahead of us before reaching home, we had to drag ourselves away.

This place has been a revelation though, probably the perfect combination of fine weather, the endpoint of a great holiday and the giddy excitement of going to a site for the first time, means it’s exceeded all expectations. Knowing now how easy it is to get to, I can see this being a regular stop off when we come down to Cornwall again.

Brane (Entrance Grave)

Visited 8th March 2014

This was another site on my must see list for this trip down to Cornwall. With some judicious Google Earth scrying beforehand, in conjunction with a trusty O.S map, I’d identified the parking spot on the bend mentioned in Carl’s notes.

We approached down a narrow lane off the A30, a signpost warning that the track was unsuitable for HGV’s, and even in our little car it was tight going. Ellen drove as I navigated, somewhat fretful in case she met something coming the other way, as there were few passing places, and reversing on the narrow twisty roads would have taken some doing.

Following the signs towards Carn Euny we reached an even narrower track, this one with a no through road sign at the start of it. Ellen was reticent about taking it, but I encouraged her to take a drive of faith and so we carried on. Within minutes there is a thick band of grass growing up the centre of the road, but we’d come this far so there’s no turning back now! It’s not long though before I recognise the pull-in next to the public footpath sign I’d seen on Google Earth.

Parking up here Ellen decided to wait in the car, worried in case we ended up blocking the way for some huge agricultural machinery, and also being a bit more wary of trespassing than my blasé attitude towards it. I happily hopped over the gate however, and walking up the edge of the currently empty meadow, again followed Carl’s directions into the neighbouring field.

As I entered the field I was taken aback, the burial mound, so perfectly small and round sitting there incongruously in the field, just looked so unreal. Getting up close I could see just how different this chamber seemed from other barrows I’d visited, looking more like a roundhouse than a tomb (perhaps that’s the idea?).

Either way it’s lovely, probably the first chambered tomb I’d describe as cute. The gorsey toupee just adds to its character, and the vegetation growing around it gives the place an organic quality. As I bend down to look into the entrance it’s almost as if the stones of the entranceway are reaching around to give me a hug. Squeezing into the chamber, no slugs are in evidence today, but creeping tendrils of bramble are starting worm their way in, grabbing at my coat, and I really wish I had a pair of secateurs with me just to keep the chamber clear.

As I lean against the side of the mound to write my notes everything seems a bit illusory here, the sky is perfectly blue, the grass low cropped and gently rippling in the breeze, the lonely cawing of crows overhead, and not a sight or sound of the modern world in evidence. It’s like some bucolic idyll, and it feels as if nothing has changed since Borlase was here, if ever a site had a palpable vibe, it’s this one.

Utterly enchanted I forget the time, and feeling a bit mean about abandoning Ellen, I drag myself away, only to find on my return she’d dozed off in the car, so I could have stayed a bit longer I suppose! Anyway I will be back!

With all the abundance of megalithic wonderment crammed into this small part of West Penwith it’s interesting that this little burial chamber seems to have affected me most of all the places I’ve been so far this week, I can’t recommend a visit to this hidden gem highly enough.
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Megalithic wanderer and modern day pagan.

I've always loved anything historical, particularly megalithic sites (I've many a fond memory of visits to Stonehenge in the mid 1970's as we used to stop there every year on the way to the annual family holiday down in Bournemouth, which I think started it off), and the discovery of a certain book by Mr. Cope set off an obsession in the late 1990's to see as many of these wonderful places as I can.

Enjoys walking in the wildnerness and climbing mountains (currently on the worlds slowest round of Munroe bagging), travel, playing guitar, real ale and malt whisky, historical re-enactment, fencing and wargaming (although not all at the same time!) Also adores small furry critters (particularly cats)

Spends most of the year in the megalithic desert of the Midlands, although fortunate enough to live part of the time in Kirkwall in the megalithic oasis of Orkney, with my lovely (and very patient) wife Ellen, and the cute furball that is our cat Hecate.

Favourite sites would be Callanish and Ring of Brodgar (where I was handfasted) in Scotland, Les Pierres Platts in Brittany, Havangsdosen in Sweden, Glavendrup in Denmark, and Sunkenkirk in England.

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