Ravenfeather

Visited 23rd November 2013

It’s been too long since I was last here, probably a good twelve years, and a visit on a crisp, clear winter’s afternoon is a perfect antidote to the stresses of a morning spent Christmas shopping.

Pulling in to the tiny, muddy parking spot just off the road on the edge of the field, I catch a glimpse of the mound, and something seems different, but it takes me a few minutes to work out what. The barrow is no longer fenced in, and stands proud in its field, looking all the better for it. As we approach I’d forgotten how big it was, and also the way the mound seems to slowly sag, like a deflating soufflé, and I wonder if perhaps Rhiannon is onto something with her speculative musings on the site having been named after a type of suet pudding. Whatever the case it’s a great shape, and the very definition of a ‘tump’ in my book.

I’m pleased to see the pathetic scrawling’s on the lintel are starting to fade, and duck low to ease myself into the passageway, again forgetting just how low the entranceway is. It’s good to be back inside Hetty’s welcoming embrace, as my eyes adjust to the gloom I notice how clean and tidy it is inside, not a cobweb or any detritus to be found, almost as if the place has had a spruce up. Only a small bunch of vegetation, taken from the nearby field, unceremoniously (or possibly ceremoniously, but if so it’s a strange offering!) dumped just inside the entranceway, impinges on the tidiness of the chambers, it won’t be there long though as I’ll be removing it on my way out.

From inside only the occasional drip of water breaks the quiet, along with the muffled cawing of crows from the field outside, again my memory of the place seems at odds with the reality, the passageway inside being much shorter than I remember, but I’m probably just getting the place mixed up with Stoney Littleton. I lean back in one of the side chambers and just relax, breathing in the calm atmosphere of the subterranean room, and even manage to just about see enough in the dim light to write my fieldnotes, whilst Ellen walks around the outside of the tump, the crouched entrance lintel proving a little too low for her.

Eventually it’s time to emerge, although I could have stayed there all day, so peaceful and welcoming does the place feel. Outside Ellen is confused by the enigmatic circle of low concrete posts which surround the tump, which must have been too small to be fence posts. At first I’m also baffled, but then remember other sites where such posts have been used to show the original circumference of the mound so guess that this may be the same principal here.

As we walk back to the car I keep casting glances back toward the mound, and promising myself it won’t be so long next time before I visit Hetty again.

Visited 30th October 2013

Within five minutes of leaving Quiberon these fine stones put in an appearance on high ground looking out toward the start of the Cote Sauvage. A quick right turn off the main road brought us to a spot where we could park, but not without narrowly avoiding a gaggle of cyclists that suddenly sped out across the road in front of us where a cycle track cuts across the lane.

Pulling up on the verge I get to examine the stones more closely, a shapely pair which frame a coastal vista. This place should be twinned with Penrhos Feilw in Anglesey, it has much of the same vibe about it, albeit with a bit more room between the ‘goalposts’, but the commanding views are the same, as is the sense of the stones marking out some form of gateway, a symbolic entrance to the start of the Wild Coast perhaps?

If you carry on up the lane, as we had to in order to turn the car around, you soon come to the village of Le Manémuer, a little hamlet of whitewashed houses, all sporting pale blue shutters, which reminded me of the sort of village you’d see on a Greek island, but which sports another 6’ tall standing stone sat amongst a walled shrubbery like some gargantuan garden ornament, yet another of the many fine Quiberon menhirs.

Visited 30th October 2013

The Cote Sauvage or ‘Wild Coast’ is just that, a meandering jagged coastline of rocky coves and cliffs pounded by Atlantic breakers, which stretches down the west side of the Quiberon penisular, just to the south of Carnac. It is also dotted with more menhirs than you can shake a stick at.

Heading along the coast of the peninsular within two minutes of leaving the town of Quiberon we had already encountered a fine pair of megaliths, and every few minutes the breathtaking views were punctuated with shouts of ‘Oh look there’s a standing stone!’, but there are simply too many to stop at each one (or at the very least to give each visit the time it deserves), that is until you reach the Menhirs Beg-er-Goalennec.

Here two wonderful stones stand on either side of the D186A, one right next to the Les Mouttes restaurant, the other right on the shoreline. Plenty of space to be had for parking here next to the restaurant, so we just couldn’t pass them by. There’s no little ‘property of the state’ marker to give the name of the site, so I’ve no idea what the stones are called until later when I manage to look them up, but I do at least think to get the co-ordinates from the sat-nav!

The more northerly stone stands uncomfortably close to the restaurant, and is a slim rectangular block, somewhat sadly diminished by having had the top five feet or so break off the menhir at some time in the past. Standing behind it and focusing on its shorter companion across the road you get a lovely view along the aligned stones and out to sea. It is busy today though, unseasonably warm weather (well it would be unseasonable in England, maybe late October is always this warm in France?) has bought people out in droves to this popular coastline, and a steady procession of motor homes drives past to obscure the view.

It’s on the shore though that I really fall in love with the place, when I stand next to the heart shaped stone and stare out to sea. The placement of the stone is sublime, along with the great shaping along the top of the menhir (probably due more to the luck of the way the stone has weathered than the artifice of the stonecutter, although you never know?) this second menhir is a bit shorter (but still taller than me, although that counts as tiny in these parts!) and is now set in concrete to keep it stable.

With the sun still warm, and the stone at my back I look out along the coast, and for a minute all the tourists, cars and caravans enjoying their day out at the seaside seem far distant and I imagine the wild coast as it would have been to our ancestors, and it’s clear why they went to such efforts to raise these stones here, the beauty of the land calls out as much to us now as it did 5,000 years ago.

Visited 29th October 2013

Also known as Mane Groh, this is another well signposted dolmen just outside of Crucano, and right next to a lane just off the main road.

Although we are on our way back home after a hard day megalithing I just can’t pass up the little brown signs signifying an ancient monument without feeling an irresistible urge to stop. I still can’t get used to literally falling over megaliths that at home I’d be blown away by if I’d driven several hours to see a site half as impressive.

And impressive Mane Croch is. The name means ‘the sorceress’s hill’, and it consists of a T-shaped passage grave of satisfyingly chunky stones, which leads into a well preserved chamber. A couple of the capstones have been removed, almost as if someone’s taken the lid off so you can look inside, where an axe head carving is visible on one of the orthostats, thanks to being handily outlined in chalk.

It’s yet another site surrounded by woodland, and a path leads off through the woods which takes in other megalithic sites, but sadly it is too late in the day to wander far this evening. We have a meander about nearby and find a jumble of stones that once may have been the remains of a now destroyed dolmen, as well as a small cist near the main site, and the path tantalisingly beckons on towards further unseen megalithic riches. Still it’s no hardship to just spend some time here instead.

Burl says it would have once been covered by a rectangular mound and is aligned toward the SSE. There are several of these types of passage dolmen in the vicinity, and they are certainly unlike any I’m used to from Britain, but having seen so many they all start to blur together and I struggle to remember which one is which but Mane Groh is memorable by virtue of a carved stone trough which sits beside the dolmen.

We have a wander in the woods nearby and come upon a lovely lake, dotted with reed beds and small islets, it sits amongst the trees, and I almost imagine a shimmering arm to emerge clutching a sword, such is the look of the place. Alas no Lady of the Lake today, but we do spot a pair of little egrets wading in the water.

What I forget until later is just how close several other monuments are through the woods nearby, particularly Caeser’s chair, which on my last visit I didn’t get any photographs of as my camera batteries had died, and I’m disappointed that I didn’t get chance to take some today. Still the dolmen is itself a worthy place to visit on its own, so I shouldn’t sound ungrateful. We have the place to ourselves and I happily poke about in the transepted chamber. The shadows lengthen as we sit at the dolmen, tired after the day’s exertions, and thoroughly old stoned out. What can you say, another superb Breton dolmen.

Visited 29th October 2013

Another site we just happened to drive by. This place is forever known to us as the ‘picnic dolmen’ as last time we were in Brittany we also stumbled on it, and stopped off here with our packed lunch. We didn’t even know the name of the site last time, so couldn’t find out much information about it. This time we again pull in on the grass by the stones, and have a snack in the beautiful sunshine, and I manage to just make out the name ‘Dolmen de Cohouer’ from the worn lettering on the little ‘Property of the State’ stone that marks most Brittany megaliths.

Placed on the edge of a small village next to quiet rural road, the surroundings are archetypally French, a shuttered farmhouse just visible behind the dolmen, and even the sound of crickets chirping, despite the lateness of the year. It’s a pleasant place for a stop off.

The tomb itself is of a type referred to as a ‘simple dolmen’, of that same classical ‘megalithic mushroom’ type design, but longer than most of the dolmens common across Briatain. Seven orthostats support two huge capstones and provide a large light and airy chamber, which I soon install myself in.

Inside it’s very comfortable, a nice grassy floor, and the chamber interior is warm, having caught the sun for most of the day, and I just relax and enjoy being here. I could stay in the chamber all day, it’s such a great place to be. Being so close to the village there are a couple of bits of rubbish around, mostly a few empty beer cans, so I take them over to the nearby recycling bin before we leave, and bid goodbye to a fine dolmen, vowing to return again sometime bearing more baguettes and cheese!

Visited 29th October 2013

Slap bang next to the giant is another of Brittany’s enigmatic stone settings, the Quadrilateral de Manio. Basically a large stone rectangle, with a porch type setting at one end, which would once have provided a forecourt facing to the south-east. It’s amazing to think that apparently this would have once been covered by a huge mound.

Trees surround the site preventing an observation of the wider area, and I wonder whether the menhir was erected first, or if it was intended as some sort of indicator stone for the Quadrilateral? Burl says the stones were set on a long low mound, but it’s difficult to make this out now.

It’s just about possible to get a photo of the whole of the site in shot , as long as you take your picture from the forecourted end, otherwise some manoeuvring about the trees is required if you want to take a photo from the west end.

I resort to clambering onto the low stone wall which surrounds the site in order to get a slightly elevated view, and manage to get a few photo’s between the regular procession of visitors.

The woodland setting with its dappled light, nearby onlooking menhir, and just proximity to the megalithic wonderland that is Carnac make it a special place, and although a popular site in its own right, it retains a peaceful air, somewhere to ponder on the amazing ancient remains surrounding you, away from the hustle and bustle of the tourists at the main visitors center.

Visited 29th October 2013

The Giant of Manio, seems a friendly fella, although somewhat taciturn as he sits in his wooded glade staring out at the trees, natural markings on the stone suggestive of eyes, nose and mouth, the face looking out in the opposite direction from the Manio rectangle).

The sun filters through the trees into this lovely wooded glade, and the menhir is warm to the touch as I give the huge stone a hug, although he seems much smaller than I remember, porbably as a result of seeing the Menhir du Champ Dolent the other day. The Geant though has a lot of character. Sadly the remains of some graffitti mark his face, but for the giant this is ‘pas de problème’, he has been here for millennia whilst the cretinous scrawlings are already quite faded and soon will be gone leaving the Geant blemish free once more.

A small pile of pebbles perplexingly rests high on top of the stone, leaving me to wonder how and why they got there, the puzzle solved a few minutes later when a visiting Frenchman started throwing pebbles at the top of the menhir, attempting to land a stone on top, which apparently brings good luck if you are able to do it.

It’s a fine spot here, a great menhir which probably gets overlooked amidst the profusion of the Carnac stones, but definitely worth a visit. It’s signposted from the D196, with parking next to the riding school and a short walk up the forested track, with both the menhir and stone setting right next to each other. So if you’re ever in the vicinity of Carnac make sure you pop by the Geant and say hello, he’ll be pleased to see you, and you’ll be very glad you did.

Visited 28th October 2013

Another great find we weren’t even looking for. On our way back to the house after an afternoon at Lochmariquer we happened upon a sign to this dolmen off the C2 near La Chapelle Neuve. A woodland parking area (these places now all seeming very familiar) leads to a short walk through the trees, before another small sign guides us to the right, and into a clearing where stands one of the most perfect dolmens you could ever ask to see.

As we approach the dolmen the temperature drops markedly. Now although it is 5.30pm and evening is approaching it was noticeably warmer along the woodland path than it is in proximity to the dolmen. There is a real feeling of presence here, the atmosphere almost tangible, but not in any kind of sinister way. As I crouch in the chamber warmth returns, and it feels welcome, a thick carpet of leaves crunching beneath my feet, and the sheltering trees sighing in the insubstantial breeze.

Three orthostats support a large capstone, the chamber opening to the east and the rising sun. Much of the now denuded mound which once covered the dolmen remains and is still visible, the chamber hunkered within it, giving a good impression, almost like a cut away model, of how these places were constructed. The information board says that simple beaker like pottery was found within, and dated to between 2,400 – 2,200 BCE.

I’m in love with this place, it’s just such a perfect dolmen, like a text book representation of the form, and seemingly obscure, I couldn’t find any reference to it in the books I had with me. Dusk is starting to fall now or I would have stayed longer, but with the sat-nav co-ordinates for the site now locked in, and with the knowledge that it is a mere three miles from our cottage, I vow to return before we have to travel back to England.

Visited 28th October 2013

Engaging in the celebrated Breton sport of randomly driving around until you happen across a megalith (not that hard to do), eagle-eyed Ellen spotted a small brown sign with the legend ‘allee couvert’ at the side of the road as we shot past, “Isn’t that one of those passage tombs?” she said, cueing a quick application of brakes and a swift reverse to the small parking spot next to some well manicured grass and a rubbish bin.

Checking the map I found we were on the D168, just north of Malestroit, but I couldn’t find any reference to this site in any of the books I had with me, even the mighty Burl didn’t mention the place, so it was with mounting excitement at not knowing exactly what we’d find that we commenced a walk along the obvious track from the parking spot into the unknown.

The path is bordered on one side by woodland, and on the other by a field, and shortly a long jumble of stones is visible ahead, and we find something far beyond expectation. The allee couverte, although ruinous, is huge, at 25 meters in length, it is the longest in Morbihan. It is also rare in having, according to the information board, a side entrance in the middle of the south wall, rather than the passage being open from the end, but in its somewhat ruinous state, it’s difficult to make out exactly where the entryway would have been. The stones protrude like spiny vertebrae, a sleeping dragon beneath the earth, the echo of the grand burial mound that must once have sat here still visible.

Once again the site is enhanced by its woodland surroundings, it has a bit of a feel of Wayland’s Smithy to it, although being totally different in design to that place. The raw size of the site also impresses, and to find it just sitting here, with no fanfare, only serves to underline just how many megalithic remains are scattered across Brittany.

I spend some time pacing around trying to photograph the site from every conceivable angle, but its sheer size makes getting everything in shot very difficult. It’s peaceful here, and conducive to spending some time, but clouds on the horizon are blowing in, the winds still gusting strongly after last night’s storm, so we know soon it will be time to move on. A poke about further down the path shows a number of large rocks lying around prone, seemingly of the same type of stone as the orthostats of the allee couvert, whether they were once part of it, or more likely a source of stone for the building of the monument I’m not sure.

I’m pleased to have come across this place, an unexpected gem of a find, and one of the reasons I love Brittany, where else could you just stumble across such a megalith?

Visited 27th October 2013

With Merlin being a major draw around these parts, this place is signposted almost as soon as you leave Paimpont (Brittany’s version of Glastonbury) on the Rue de l’enchanter Merlin (also known as the D71). When you do reach the ample car parking though don’t set off straight into the forest, but rather cross back over the road and take the tarmac cycle path, you’ll be at the tomb within minutes.

As we park the car we again encounter a large group of foragers emerging from the forest with baskets full of fungi, who within seconds identify us as ‘Anglais’ and with a friendly ‘bonjour’ start to gesture us in the opposite direction, over the road towards the tomb. Perhaps it was the camera, notebook and copy of Aubrey Burl’s ‘Megalthic Brittany’ I was clutching that gave it away?

In a land abundant with a cornucopia of spectacular megalithic remains, Merlin’s Tomb is like one of those sad hangers on, riding on the coat-tails of a famous name, whilst lacking the ability to be impressive in their own right.

The site consists of the slight remains of a ruined dolmen, little more than two cracked stones, out from which sprouts a holly tree. A modern circular kerb of stones has been set around the dolmen, and a plethora of offerings are crammed into any available crack in the stones, or tied as clooties to the holly tree, along with written messages to Merlin which are placed around the site. Someone had also placed halved apples at each quarter point of the kerb, possibly as part of an early Samhain ritual.

Just up the path from the tomb is the Fountain of Youth, a sluggish pool, which looked as if eternal youth would arise from failing to get any older on account of having died due to contracting some virulent form of dysentery upon drinking the water.
Compared to even the lesser of Brittany’s megaliths this is somewhat uninspiring, but yet the place has a certain charisma. In a way the adoption of the site as a focal point for offerings gives the site a resonance it was probably previously lacking, and in the usual surroundings of lovely Breton woodland, with the clootie bedecked holly tree sprouting from the stones it has a certain charm.

Although I may sound disparaging this is a nice place, just diminished by the embarrassment of megalithic riches just a stone’s throw (if you’ll pardon the pun) away. Still if you’re in Brocéliande you can’t not visit Merlin can you? Just be prepared that like some other iconic tourist stops, the reality of the place might not be quite as impressive as you expect.

Visited 27th October 2013

This was a site we somehow missed on our last visit, probably as we were already overwhelmed by the plethora of megaliths in Brittany, but today we find it easily, signposted off the D141 just north of the village of Trehorenteuc.

A large sized, but somewhat potholed and muddy, car park gives access to the site. After parking up just make sure you take the path to the west, directly opposite where you park the car, and not the wider dirt track to the south, and a short walk will bring you to the rectangular stone setting of the Jardin Aux Moines, the ‘Monks Garden’. According to the information sign this would once have been a burial mound, it is 27m long and consists of 26 stones on the south side, and 27 on the north, with a separate compartment formed at the east end of the setting. Briard’s excavations in the 1980’s suggested the moument may have been a multi-stage one, the eastern compartment being the earliest, before the western rectangle was later added.

Interestingly the stones alternate between white quartz and red schist, the contrast really noticeable in the low morning sunlight. Burl also states that the1983 excavations uncovered a pile of red and white stones covering the remains of two late Neolithic pots, so the ancient builders obviously placed great significance in this variation of colours.
Like so many Breton sites it is surrounded by pleasant woodland, and we have the place to ourselves. It’s a nicely restored and cared for site, an enigmatic place, and among the myths and legends of ancient Broceliande well worth seeking out, after all it’s easier to find than the grail.

Visited 26th October 2013

Just before you reach the village of Tresse, this allee couverte is signposted from the road, leading you to a woodland parking spot.

The area is busy with people walking in the woods, most with baskets full of mushrooms foraged from the forest, and we follow the well-trodden path a short way through the lovely mature trees to the monument.

The Maison des Fees really is in an idyllic setting, the woods in full autumn splendour, and as leaves fall in a gentle cascade around us with each breath of wind, the sylvan quality of the setting really does make you think we could be in the presence of the fey. The monument itself as well isn’t half bad, a long passage grave, once covered by a mound, now left exposed like the petrified skeleton of some great beast. Sprouting near the entrance is a strange bolete, a miniature fairy toadstool, and the folklore of the place still seems redolent in the air.

At once I scamper down the passage, low enough that I have to hunch over, and inspect the interior for carvings, of which I’ve heard the site has some good examples. I draw a blank before Ellen calls me from the outside of the monument, where she has found the carvings on the slabs at the back of the monument. There we observe the famous ‘breast’ carvings (a very French interpretation I’m sure!) which are like cup marks in reverse, four stand out clearly, with the remains of a further four visible on a separate slab, though now slightly diminished, as apparently they were smashed off in 1961.

The site reminds me a Dutch hunebedd, looking similar in layout with somewhat rounded stones resting on low orthostats. Nearby a subtly positioned multi-lingual information board is attached to a rock, and another nearby rock sports a somewhat whimsical picture of a fairy, and is also the best place to get a photo of the whole length of the allee couverte.

The Maison des Fees is a beautiful and magical place to be, especially at this time of year, and we spend some time here as people come and go, and even take the example of the French by foraging some sweet chestnuts, dropped by one of the sheltering trees, to take home and roast in the log burning stove.

Visited 26th October 2013

We had a rough crossing on the overnight ferry to St. Malo, so landing in Brittany in a somewhat sleep deprived state, only the excitement of finally being back was keeping us going. So in need of a burst of energy we head off for the second tallest standing stone in Brittany, near the town of Dol de Bretagne, only about 15 miles away from the port.

Dol de Bretagne boasts an impressive cathedral and a maze like road system, so we headed south through the town and hoped for the best before fortunately finding a handy signpost. Soon our first Breton menhir of the trip hove into view, the top half of it standing proud above a field of yellowing corn, and for an anxious few seconds I feared the stone might be surrounded by crops. I needn’t have worried, a nicely manicured area, complete with picnic tables and parking spot gives easy access to the stone, and although surrounded on three sides by corn fields the crops were kept a respectful distance away from the stone, and what a stone it is! Standing a mind boggling 32’ tall, as you stand at the bottom of it and the stone towers above you it amazes how anyone could have erected this without the use of modern machines. Shaped and worked into a tapering top, as Postie says, it’s like some megalithic rocket ship ready for take-off, this really is a superlative menhir.

The stone is smooth to the touch, I hug its huge girth, and I feel revitalised instantly. A nice smoothed boulder rests at the foot of the menhir, and provides a surprisingly comfortable spot to sit on to write some fieldnotes. A nearby information board relates the legends associated with the stone, and although only in French, is illustrated with cartoony pictures depicting the tales, so even with my shaky grasp of the language I’m able to catch the gist.

Probably the best standing stone I’ve ever seen, and an amazing way to start off the holiday in Brittany.

Visited 5th October 2013

There’s hardly a surfeit of sacred wells in Staffordshire, so any chance to visit one should be grabbed with both hands, something I had sadly neglected to do for some time, but today’s the day, so we strolled through the woods by Knypersley pool on the hunt for the well.

The dappled shade in the trees gave an otherworldly feel as we moved form the relative brightness of the day, passing the dark finger of the Warden’s Tower, poking through the trees on an outcrop to our left. As we moved further into the woods the occasional old moss covered dry stone wall was visible amongst the thickets, as though we were stumbling through a long abandoned hamlet now reclaimed by the forest.

Things started promisingly, with clearly marked paths through the woods, and even a sign pointing us the direction of Gawton’s Stone & Well, but although we came upon the imposing edifice of Gawton’s Stone, the well was proving more elusive. Several tracks branched off from the main path, and I try to remember the relative positioning of the sites from the brief glimpse I had of a map of the woodland back at the visitors centre at Greenway Bank. I rue the decision not to bring an O.S. map, and realise now that I should just have photographed the visitors centre map so I could view it again to refer to on the camera. Knowing the well must be close by we pick a path and strike out toward the distant sound of water. It’s not long before we reach a stream, and the source of the sound, a small waterfall over an old stone dyke, and as the path curves further around it becomes clear that it’s not the path to the well.

We soon find ourselves back on the main trail again, all sense of direction having been clouded amongst the trees. Walking through the woods makes me think of Robert Holdstock’s novels, this place could almost be Staffordshire’s own mini Mythago Wood, such is character of the place, with hidden landmarks and a sense of nature pervading and reclaiming the once landscaped old country estate.

Back at Gawton’s stone I review the brief notes I have about the place, which indicate the well is only about 100 meters to the north of the stone, so trying to gauge the direction by our brief glimpses of the sun through the trees, we spot a track off the main path we had previously passed, and head off again.

Only a short way ahead I can see another old lichen covered wall, and an entranceway into a copse of trees, and spotting clouties hanging from the boughs I know we must be in the right place. The well itself is on a gentle slope, surrounded by the protective embrace of a grove of yew trees. A small elliptical stone basin catches the bubbling water, which flows into a larger rectangular one before running off in a thin stream down the slope, before disappearing again into the earth again near the old wall. I’m instantly struck by the atmosphere of the place and can see at once why it is considered one of Staffordshire’s most spiritual sites. The oval stand of yews is reputed to be the remains of a druidic grove, and although these specimens must be considerably younger than that, perhaps they are the descendants of those long forgotten trees.

We spend some time here, and it’s nice to find a place that is well cared for, there is no sign of rubbish, the clouties are sympathetic to the site, and even the aborglyphs on the surrounding trees have a spiritual dimension, someone having gone to great effort to carve a fine yin-yang symbol near the base of a tree.

The waters of the well have supposed curative properties, being renowned as a ‘cure for the King’s evil’ fortunately I’m not afflicted with any skin complaints on which to try it out, but a splash of the cool water to my face is welcome after all our tramping through the woods.

This whole area of Knypersley wood exudes a magical ambiance, in some ways it reminds me a lot of Alderley Edge, having the same sort of feel to it. No matter how old the current well is, it has the same sublime atmosphere I’ve experienced at Cornish holy wells, and was evidently a sacred place to local people long ago, and well, it still is today.

Visited 5th October 2013

I’ve been told about this place before, but its disputed antiquity, and the ever lengthening list of my must see sites had firmly pushed it to the back of my mind. Now with autumn’s grip starting to discourage ventures too far from home, pleasant weekend weather inspired us to seek out somewhere to visit, and being as Knypersley was less than 30 miles from us, today seemed an opportune time to finally visit.

Just south of Biddulph on the A527 we took the signposted right turn to the Greenway Bank Country Park. There are two car parks here, the first with a small visitors centre, toilets and coffee bar, but if you want a shorter walk just continue on down the lane to a further car park next to Knypersley reservoir itself. There are plenty of people out for walks today, and the reservoir is a tranquil site, surrounded as it is by a fringe of woodland. A group of twitchers with some serious photographic equipment, throng the dam wall, feverishly photographing a group of Great Crested Grebes out on the water as we walk by.

Soon we reach Poolside Cottage, and the spot where we take the footpath that flanks the reservoir. Heading into the woods we soon pass a verdurous pond to our right, vegetation thronging its still waters, and hinting of the atmosphere of the woods to come. It’s quieter here, most people having opted to walk around the lakeshore in the sunshine, the forest canopy still retaining enough leaves to darken the day. Just down the path a handy signpost indicates we are heading in the right direction for Gawton’s Stone and Well, and looming out of the trees on an outcrop to the left, is the romantic ruin of the Wardens Tower, a folly built in 1828 and lived in as recently as the 1950’s.

Continuing along the path we soon arrive at Gawton’s Stone, and it’s not something you can easily miss! Resembling a huge dolmen, like some cyclopean version of the Devil’s Den in Wiltshire, a giant boulder rests atop two smaller, but still pretty huge stones. Sadly it’s unlikely to be from the Neolithic, but that’s about as much as we do know. Various theories have been proposed as to how these stones got here. It doesn’t strike me as a folly, as firstly there are written references to it going back to the early 1600’s, (before the era when the building of follies became fashionable) and no records exist of a landowner having had it built. Intriguingly it also looks an unlikely natural arrangement of stones, particularly as the ‘capstone’ is of a different type of rock to the base stones. It is possible though that the largest stone had toppled from the nearby outcrop, which is the same type of rock, fortuitously ending up where it did, or indeed was pushed from the outcrop in antiquity.

It all adds to the sense of mystery, as does the ‘face’ simulacrum of the rock if viewed from one side, and the folktales of the place being redolent with strange magical powers, and mysterious magnetic fluctuations. Sadly I forgot the compass today, so I can’t check if any weird magnetic anomalies were going on, but I didn’t pick up any strange sensations on touching the stone.

The small chamber inside the stone doesn’t look like it would have provided much in the way of shelter for the eponymous hermit who was once supposed to have lived here, but it does appear some working has been made to the stone at the back of the chamber, and I imagine if you were hunkered down under the stone it would provide some solace from the elements (fortunately I don’t need to try it today!)

We spend a bit of time taking in the place, the only sound that of the birds and the wind in the leaves, punctuated by the occasional bark of an overexcited dog getting a walk nearby. J.D. Sainter in his 1878 book suggests a Germanic route for the name of the stone, even going so far as to suggest it resembles an early type of Scandinavian dolmen, and I’ve got to say it does remind me in a way of the Gladsax dolmen we visited in Skane, a site which utilised a natural boulder in its construction, and which was established to be the earliest carbon dated burial mound in Sweden, so perhaps he has a point?

There is also a reference on the Biddulph museum website to an excavation that took place in 1900 which indicated burials took place at the site, but I’ve not been able to uncover any more information about this yet. Stranger and stranger.

All in all an enigmatic site, and well worth a visit, I’ll definitely be back knowing now how close it is to home, and so we leave the mysterious stone for the time being and continue our search for the nearby well…

Visited 14th August 2013

On the way to the Wasdale crannog we spotted this mound from the path, which struck me as looking suspiciously like a barrow. A quick check of the O.S. map whilst relaxing on the crannog confirmed it was a ‘cairn’, and since we were passing it seemed rude to to visit.

As I’ve posted before I’m never really satisfied with viewing a site from afar, and feel a strange compulsion to connect to the place by actually physically being there or touching it. Maybe it’s the same thing that drives me to ‘bag’ lonely mountain summits, but I’d be deeply unsatisfied by just taking a photo from the path, and not letting a little thing like a complete lack of any visible access to the site stopping me, I look for a way to reach the mound.

Finding a spot where the dry stone wall was a little lower I hop over into a field choked with gorse. The thick bushes are so dense I have to pick my way through veritable maze of spiny branches as I struggle uphill, before working my way around the barbed wire fence which partitions off the field containing the mound. Handily though a gate right by the mound allows access without having to circumvent the fence and then I’m there.

While I’m sure some people would be incredulous as to lengths I’d go through just to visit a small green mound, when I’m there I’m glad I did, as Howe Harper is actually rather good. Firstly the surrounding ditch is still clearly visible and well preserved, and secondly the views from atop the mound are fantastic. Each way you turn gives a new and fine aspect, to the north the loch of Wasdale twinkles below you, whilst west the hills of Hoy loom over the horizon, dominating the skyline as they do all across west Mainland. To the south the mound seems to mirror a small hill which sticks out atop a ridge of high ground.

The cairn itself is also still of a good size, with just a small chunk hacked from the mound, possibly by the world’s most half-hearted treasure seekers who just couldn’t be arsed, or else feared they may be in danger of disturbing the mound’s resident draugr, or more likely through erosion by cattle grazing. Either way it gives a view of some of the underlying cairn structure.

Well as grassy mounds go this is definitely one of the good ones, and perfectly viewable from the path, but if you do want the full experience of the views from the cairn, then try Wideford’s directions, I’m sure it would be easier!

Visited 14th August 2013

There are plenty of marked parking bays at the edge of Finstown, just before you leave the village on the way to Stromness, and we left the car here to walk on to Wasdale. A gate gives access into a field next to road, across which a short walk takes you into Binscarth Wood. It’s still lovely and sunny this afternoon, but soon we enter the wood and the warmth of the day is muted by the cool green shade of the verdant canopy above us. We stick to the old drover’s path, as the other tracks through the trees are still muddy, despite the small amount of rain recently. The excited voices of kids playing on the homemade rope swings over the burn provide an accompaniment, and the walk through mature woodland seems jarring after the paucity of trees on the rest of Mainland, but it’s good to be back amongst the thickets, arboreal withdrawal symptoms being one of the few downsides of spending some time on Orkney.

Despite being a veritable forest in Orcadian terms it only take a few minutes for us to be back in the sunlight as we leave the wood behind, and as the path forks a small signpost indicates we bear left to follow the footpath (the right fork will take you up towards Binscarth House). Soon the Wasdale lochan is visible, and in it the tantalising mound, its modern cairn a peedie tower surrounded by the remains of the much older lower courses of stonework.

The water levels in the loch are low, making crossing the stepping stones easy, and soon we are on the island. Although the undergrowth chokes some of the lower stones there is plenty to see. The curve of an exterior wall reminds me of the construction of the walls at the Borwick broch, other stonework looks altogether more jumbled as if built on later, along with some worked stones, and a jumble of rocks just above the level of the water on the north-western side of the islet, that looks like it might have once been a rough pier or landing stage. Canmore lists an intriguing record for this site, encompassing a chapel, enclosure, ancient mound and possible dun, and as you poke about the site you can almost feel the different layers of history, like the skin on an onion, which permeate this little islet.

I soon find an intriguing block of stone near to the island end of the causeway, it is pocked with four ‘cupmarks’ in a line. The depressions are too linear to be natural, but too crude to be modern workings, and I wonder just how old they really are, and whether the stone was scavenged from one of the nearby cairns on the hills overlooking the loch?

We spend some time here, Ellen sketching whilst I write my fieldnotes, just taking in the landscape and atmosphere. The sunny day brings out the best of the colours, the water a coruscating blue around us, reeds flanking the islet a viridian green, with the softer pastels of the surrounding moorland below the azure sky, a perfect place to sit and ponder, and another of Orkney’s ‘off the beaten track wonders’

Visited 14th August 2013

After a quick visit to the Fossil Heritage museum on Burray (nice café by the way), we carried on over the barriers onto South Ronaldsay.

Heading down the A961 the right hand turn to Sandwick is signposted, and as you head down the single track lane towards the sea the stone will soon become visible to your left. On such narrow roads parking can be a problem, we pulled in on the verge by the barn of Clouduhall farm (although beware of the concealed ditch if you do!), although if you carry on a little way down the road, and bear left at the first junction you come to, the road heads down toward Sandwick bay, and a small pull-in that can fit a couple of cars in at a squeeze.

The first time I visited this site I couldn’t see an obvious way into the field, and the maddening proximity of the stone impelled me to hop over the relatively low barbed wire fence (just about keeping all my relevant bits intact!), before discovering that the gate into the field is actually to the north-east of the stone, and concealed by the slope of the hill. This time we took the sensible approach and walked back up the road the way we had come, before taking the first lane on the right (just past a garage with blue doors) which leads down past a nearby abandoned house, right to the gate which gives access to the field.

The stone is a good hefty size, with the typical topping of sea moss so common in these parts. As I stand by the stone taking in the fantastic view, looking out down toward the island of Swona just out to sea, I think what a perfect place this is to site a stone.

Last night we attended a lecture by the Orkney Archeological society which talked about the Norse settlers attitude to the megalithic sites they encountered, and the folklore that arose around these places, and it mentioned that standing stones seemed the most enigmatic of the monuments in that whilst other megalithic sites tended to be associated with spirits or beings that may dwell there, standing stones seemed to be associated as entities in themselves (as evidenced by all the tales of them nipping down to local lochs for a drink!). Standing here I can see the truth in it, megaliths sited close to the coast, in that liminal place where the shore gives way to the sea, seem to be the most enigmatic of all, staring out over the millennia as the sea gradually re-shapes the land, perhaps like our own native Moai.

Perhaps though I’m romanticising too much, and with all my thoughts of the megalith as a petrified personification of Sandwick’s genius loci, I’m sure the prosaic answer behind it is far more mundane, but pondering on these things is what makes these visits so special, and the sublime loveliness of Orkney is ever a place to bring out my chimerical nature.

Finally we walk down to Sandwick bay itself, where delightfully we see a small seal pup, only a few days old by the look of him, sheltering near the rocks. We sit on the beautiful sands watching him, whilst he stares back curiously at us, the stone of Clouduhall watching over us both from its perch on the slope above us. A magical end to a lovely visit.

Visited 6th July 2013

Maen Crwn is unmissable, no quite literally. If you are walking up to the Druid’s Circle from the Two Pillars car park, the large boulder like stone, close to the only house seemingly for miles around, will give you a prominent landmark, and also point you toward the diminutive stones of the Red Farm circle.

It’s the first time I’ve ever come along this path, which provides a fantastic walk, from the first glimpses of the stones of Y Meini Hirion on the horizon when you leave the car, to these great bonus sites as you walk atop the high headland looking out over the sea, and the slumbering wyrm of the Great Orme. By the time Mean Crwn is reached you are about two thirds of the way there, and since you have to walk right past this fine megalith it would be rude, nay obligatory not to stop to say hello.

The stone is a satisfyingly chunky boulder-like affair. Burl describes it as ‘playing card’ shaped, in which case he must play with an odd deck as I think the Welsh name of Mean Crwn (meaning the round stone) is more descriptive. It reminds me greatly of Cae Coch, not far away from here along Tal-y-Fan.

Nicely screened by a line of trees allowing some separation from the nearby farmhouse, I’m free to give the stone a hug without embarrassment (not that I’ve been put off before!) and without the vague feeling of intrusion that can be felt when a monument is too close to someone’s house.

I ponder Cefn Maen Amor in the background, the stone seeming to nicely line up with the top of that hill, mirroring its shape in the landscape. I also try to look for alignments to the Red Farm circle in the next field, but sadly the annoying stone wall blocks my line of sight for a direct view. I later read that the wall contains a suspiciously standing stone like gatepost, but in the excitement of our pull toward the ‘main event’ of the Druid’s Circle I didn’t think to go and check out the fieldwall, a good excuse though to come back this way again, and where megalithic sites are concerned the more excuses to return the better!

Visited 1st June 2013

Having only ever seen these stones from the road, and at quite a distance, we took advantage of a lovely sunny day to get a bit closer and have a walk up to them. Parking up overlooking the sea near to the Earl’s Palace in Birsay, we walked back up the main road to Kirkwall as far as the small signpost to Vinbrake. Taking this lane to our right it’s not long before the stones are visible on the horizon, an open gate into their field inviting us in.

The two stones stand at either end of a low mound, a rough measurement taken by standing next to it, shows the taller of the pair must be around 6’ tall, its companion around half the height, due to having snapped in two, the broken half lying mournfully not far from the diminished stone.

Fantastic views are to be had from here, the two stones framing a range of amazing vistas out over the Brough of Birsay, and Boardhouse Loch, and again it strikes me just how well these sites were selected by the people who built them for their place in the landscape. As I ponder the views I notice a very prominent alignment with the Wheebin standing stone across the loch, which although only a tiny point in the distance, directly stands between the two Stanerandy orthostats.

We spend some time in the gorgeous sunshine just taking in the views and soaking up the atmosphere of another top quality Orcadian monument.

Visited 20th July 2013

Well, as I promised myself on the last visit, we wouldn’t be leaving it so long before coming back here again, and given the current run of good weather the plan of a picnic at the site seemed like a good one.

On arrival though we were a bit shocked to find the place almost totally overgrown. Ferns had completely shrouded the side stones, leaving only the tall front orthostats looming above the foliage, and the interior of the chamber was totally choked with vegetation to a height of about 4 feet high.

Not to be put off though I embarked on some emergency ‘gardening’, and after a good half hour of pulling up ferns and long grass by hand (had to leave the brambles though!) the place was looking a little more respectable, and the long awaited picnic was finally had.

It breaks my heart though to see such a fantastic place so uncared for, the rampant overgrowth not withstanding, I also removed various bits of rubbish from the chambers (it appears previous picnickers were not so conscientious about taking their rubbish away with them) and to top it all it seems to be somewhat of a popular spot for dog walkers to allow their pets to do their business.

Despite all of this the Bridestones remain undaunted, and a worthy place to visit, it just might be worth bringing some secateurs with you when you come!

Visited 6th July 2013

This is the first time we’ve parked up at the Two Pillars for a visit to the Druid’s Circle, and with the route taking you right past Red Farm it seemed rude not to visit.

Opting for a bit of brazen trespassing, we let ourselves in through the gate to the field housing the stones of the Red farm circle. With no-one else around, other than a few hot and bothered sheep looking on from their shelter in the shade of the field walls, and a line of trees screening you from the nearby farmhouse, it didn’t feel like we were intruding too much.

The four remaining stones are tiny, but provide a clearly defined arc allowing you to image the size the circle would once have been, and thanks to our ovine friends the short clipped grass made the dainty stones much easier to see than many similar circles in more wild landscapes, like nearby Cerrig Pryfaid.

We spent a few minutes taking in the position of the circle, the hill of Cefyn Maen Amor, looming significantly in the background, topped tantalisingly with what look like huge stones, although having read Shropshire Traveller and Postie’s notes on the site I guess they must be natural. Either way we don’t have time to explore that way today, and the very fine menhir in the next door field was calling to us, so we bid farewell to the ‘mountain men’ and take our leave.

Visited 4th June 2013

I spotted this place from the Mor Stein last time we were there, Castle Bloody’s cairn just being visible on the horizon, but was unsure as to what it actually was, and besides the weather on that day was not conducive to a trek across peaty moorland for a visit.

Today I’m approaching from the other direction, having come from Burroughston, back down the B9058, and taking the lane for Frustigarth. Nearing the coast a small green sign handily signposts the path to Castle Bloody. It’s also interesting from this direction just how the Mor Stein stands out across the flat landscape, being continually visible on the horizon as I follow the path, and I’ve no doubt how much of a major landmark it would have been back in the times these sites were constructed.

The path seems to take forever to reach it, making me wonder if the name of the place derived from people wondering when they were going to reach the bloody castle, but on a day like today the walk is pleasant, with the sun beating down, and just the calls of the seabirds wheeling overhead for company, and on the way you pass an interesting sea stack, a bit like a mini man of Shapinsay.

Soon the path leads you through the heart of the moorland, and you sometimes have to pick your way through the clumps of peat, but always the cairn of stones atop the souterrain is beckoning you on. It’s finally a relief when I reach this fascinating place, a gentle breeze from the sea cooling me down. As I walk around the turf covered mound I’m more and more intrigued. Although the OS map calls it a chambered mound, I’ve read it’s a souterrain, but due to the unexcavated nature of the mound no entrances are visible. From the top of the mound though a fine capstone is visible and uncovered, and although the cairn of stones atop the mound is a relatively recent addition given the overall age of the monument, I really liked the way it now seemed to organically fit with the rest, having been mellowed and worn by age, and with a lovely beard of sea moss.

I sit with my back against the marker cairn in the sun as I have a sandwich and write my fieldnotes, and can think of no finer place to be. Then it’s off to the Mor Stein, this time though directly across the heathland, and coming across one of the small cluster of little cairns, mid way between the two sites, on the way.

Visited 4th June 2013

A gloriously sunny day has been forecast, so I thought it might be opportune to have a day on Shapinsey visiting as many sites as I could, so packing sandwiches and a flask I’m ready for the off.

A short walk from the house in Kirkwall and I’m at the pier in time for the 08.15 ferry over to the island. As I sit on deck, the sun is already warm with scarcely a breeze, and as the boat approaches the dock at Balfour village I’m afforded a fine view of the chambered cairn on the unihabited islet of Helliar Holm.

Deciding to head firstly to the broch, as it is the furthest site away from the ferry, and having been stranded before overnight on an island due to forgetting the time in my enthusiasm to see as many megalithic remains as possible, I’m not keen to repeat the mistake!

I love a long walk in to visit a site, not only does it somehow feel more adventurous, but it gives you time to appreciate the landscape, and the monument’s place in it. It helps me to feel more connected with the place, and visualise how things might have looked back in time when the monument was built. It is however a good five miles from Balfour village to the broch, so for anyone more sensible who doesn’t fancy quite such an exertion I’d recommend hiring a bicycle in Kirkwall. Shapinsay is a great place for cycling being mostly flat and virtually traffic free (it’s also a lot cheaper than the extortionate cost for bringing a car over from Mainland).

As I head to the northern part of the island a low sea mist still clings over the ground, not yet having been burnt off by the sun, and the closer I get to the broch the worse visibility becomes. Soon all around me is grey, and the muffled calls of the sea birds lend an eerie atmosphere to the walk as I see not another soul around.

Approaching the broch, which is well signposted from the road, initially all that is visible is a green mound, surrounded by an outer bank and information board. Heading around to the entrance I am confronted by a very fine doorway, with a fantastic lintel. Inside the broch things only get better. What can I say about the place? Compact and bijou with recent renovation, bags of character, with loads of original features, and a great seaside location, perfect for the discerning modern antiquarian.

Seriously though it has a fantastic interior, some highlights including a Skara Brae style dresser, ingenious ground water collecting well (which still works!) and a spy hole in the guardroom to check on visitors outside the front door. I was blown away.

As Wideford mentions in his fieldnotes you can get a good overhead view of the inside from the top. I wasn’t too crazy about the slightly intrusive wooden railings circling the summit, but I suppose nowadays health and safety demands it. Also well done to the idiot(s) who decided to throw the remains of their picnic down into the well (why people with such little respect for these places bother visiting somewhere that takes considerable effort to reach I’ll never know).

After spending a while here the sun finally starts to burn off the low cloud, allowing me to look out to sea and hoping to catch a glimpse of some seals, who often like to beach themselves on the shore by the broch, but alas there are no selkies to be seen today.

If you get the chance do visit, I’ve enjoyed this place more than some of its more impressive/famous nearby neighbours, and for me it’s now Orkney’s top of the brochs.

Visited 4th June 2013

On my epic trek around Shapinsay I notice a site enigmatically labelled a ‘mound’ on the OS map. With the sun beating down, and hardly a breeze in the air, I really can’t pass up the chance to visit such a nearby site.

The mound is visible from the road, in a field just behind the house of Bonnyhill. An open gate into a pasture field of long grass allows me tramp up the low rise toward the mound. An Oystercatcher is perched atop the low boulder which is visible on the crown of the mound, but soon takes flight and angrily wheels overhead pipping at me for disturbing his perch.

Canmore describes the site as a circular mound, mostly composed of earth, and likely a burial mound, as the situation is a good one for a barrow, although there is no record of anything having been found there. The cairn material is believed to be more modern. It does feel like it should be a cairn, sited on a prominent raised area, and with stunning views out over the bay, but something here just feels a little mysterious.

Worth a visit if you are passing, especially when the fine weather lets you appreciate the views from the mound, and to ponder what this place once was.

Visied 19th April 2013

We parked up at the small parking area at the lovely little beach at the Sands of Wright. Looking back to Hoxa Hill the observation hut atop the hill is clearly visible, signposting the way to the cairn.

Taking the advice of Wideford’s fieldnotes we walked back up the road to the fine large country house of Roeberry, where just past the entrance drive, a gate allows access to a lane which runs up the side of Roeberry’s garden wall as it heads up the hill.

At the top of the lane you are greeted by gates to each side of you. Directly in front a gate opens onto scrubland atop the hill, where the trig point and observation hut draw the eye toward the small mound of the cairn.

Two curious horses approach us as we stand at the gate, hopefull that we may be carrying apples, they have to be satisfied with a pat on the nose. Ellen, being a little wary of horses, waits at the gate whilst I set off for the cairn with an equine escort.

The Wart is an unfortunate name for the fine remains of an Orkney-Cromarty type cairn, and in fact would be a more fitting epithet for the strange observation hut building which encroaches close to the cairn. From here the views are fantastic over Hoxa Head and out across Scapa Flow, particularly today with clear blue skies complimenting the deep azure sea.

Once this cairn would have been huge, as evidenced by the remains of the circumference, although many of the stones have now gone. It looks as if some stones may have been built up to act as a wind break, as they seemed somehow out of place, but inside the chamber one of the stones that formed the stall is still standing, and as I hunker down away from the wind to write my fieldnotes it’s really quite cosy.

On a day like today it’s a fine place to spend some time, I could happily stay all day, it feels like a place outside of time, and far away from the hassles of the mundane world, but aware of Ellen still waiting at the gate, I settle for five minutes to soak in the atmosphere, and the promise to return on a day with equally fine weather.

Visited 15th April 2013

Shapinsay is a wild and windy place today, as we walk from the ferry at Balfour village on our pilgrimage to the Mor Stein. On the way there, just as we approached a ruined old kirk, an intriguing green mound caught our attention perched right on the coast.

Lest the wind whips away the map, we duck into the shelter of the derelict church, the OS map confirming our suspicions that the mound is a ruined broch. Behind the church is an ivy clad vault, wonderfully atmospheric and containing the graves of the Balfour family, responsible for Shapinsay’s castle, and from here we notice a gate that looks as if it leads to the field containing the broch. As it turns out it doesn’t, merely opening into a graveyard annex, but back on the ‘main road’ an open gate into an empty field next to the old church allows us to access the broch.

A large flock of Oystercatchers sweep by us as we cross the field, their raucous calls a constant soundtrack on Orkney. The low green lump of the broch is clearly visible against the sea, and behind it the nearby island of Helliar Holm, with its chambered cairn clearly visible atop that island’s prominent hill.

At the broch some stonework is visible on the landward side, but not until you pick your way across the rickety wire fence and down to the foreshore that more of the sweep of the broch’s wall is visible perched precariously on the low cliff edge, the remains having succumbed to erosion long ago. Apparantly the site suffered heavily in the storms of February 1984, and it looks as if another heavy storm might be enough to finish it off for good.

Down on the shore amongst the rocks it is more sheltered, a fine place to look out to sea, or up to the broch wall above you. Although little now remains of this ancient site it still retains a sense of presence, and is one of those places that is more than the sum of its parts, a lovely spot to spend a while.

As we turned to leave a huge rainbow, a thick band low in the sky, quite unlike any I’d ever seen before, had appeared behind us, just another magical sight in Orkney.

Visited 12th April 2013

What a difference from my first visit here ten years ago. Then I had to climb a rickety fence and wade ankle deep through bog, all the while being battered by the wind with stinging freezing rain hammering me in the face.

Today things are much more civilised. The weather is positively warm for the northerly latitude, and a nice new gate from Achavanich accesses the field, the cairn being easily visible on higher ground to the east of the great ‘U’ of Stemster. The route to the cairn is still marshy, a drainage stream cuts the cairn off from the Achavanich stones, but a wooden plank has been placed across it to allow access. It is so damp at the moment though that the plank threatens to be swamped, and I carefully pick my way across it, with arms extended for balance, feeling very Tomb Raider.

Keeping my feet dry I arrive at the cairn, which affords a fantastic view across the stone setting to Loch Stemster, while if you turn to your left mountains dominate the distant horizon, today snow capped and lovely.

The cairn must once have been huge, for it is still a fair size although denuded in size, and 1,000 years older than the stones it overlooks. It is possible to make out what looks to once have been an entrance passage, though now collapsed in on itself, and the central chamber still forms a fine cist.

Now that access is easier make sure not to leave out Achkinloch on a visit to Achavanich, just make sure you bring some waterproof shoes!

Visited 12th April 2013

Despite the fact that we regularly stop off in Aviemore on our northward jouneys, I realise with shock that it’s been at least ten years since I last visited the circle. There is really no excuse, the circle being conveniently located just to the north of the town, even being handily signposted just next to the fire station, and being located in a quiet cul-de-sac parking next to the monument is not a problem.

Although the houses encroach right up to the stones, giving the impression that the circle was nothing more than a civic monument to spice up a humdrum estate, when you actually get here you appreciate the fine qualities of the site. It is a fine circle, and suprisingly easy to imagine how things would once have been before the houses were built during Aviemore’s expansion in the 1960’s.

The mountains stand proud on the horizon, snow capped today, placing the circle in a natural amphitheatre. The chunky stones are substantial, with a couple of outliers concentrically set on the outside of the circle, the groundplan making a lot more sense if you’ve previously had of pleasure of visiting Balnuaran of Clava.

We picnic in the centre of the circle, joined by a friendly local dog, but are struck just by how nicely kept the circle is, there being not a scrap of rubbish or other damage as might often by expected at more ‘urban’ sites, as well as a generally relaxed feeling of welcome here. I certainly didn’t get the impression of any ‘curtain twitching’ or otherwise feeling of discomfort as we lesiurely ate our lunch, and took inumerable photos from every conceivable angle.

A lovely site, like a fondly remembered meal that you don’t realise how good it is until you experince it again, I’ll make sure I visit the circle next time we come this way, and I’d certainly recommend if you’re ever in Aviemore you do the same.

Visited 6th April 2013

Following the fine directions given by previous contributors, and the particularly useful link provided by Rhiannon, I managed to find this place no problem, and worked it into a visit on a round trip from Glastonbury taking in both Stoney Littleton and the Faulkland standing stones first.

As suggested parking at The Bell Inn (right next to the A361 Frome Road at the village of Rode) is by far the best plan, and the public footpath is easily accessible just across the road. Once over the first stile and into the fields proper you soon see the copses of trees on the rise ahead, to which you have to aim. The fields up to the copses were currently fallow, but clear paths around their edges allowed me not to get my feet too muddy. Gates were all open and access was easy, with only the occassional distant report of a shotgun giving me a vague sense of unease lest I become unwitting cannon fodder for a trigger happy farmer.

As I head across the fields I disturb a pair of deer grazing at the newly emerging shoots, and we both freeze, staring wide eyed at each other for a moment, before they turn and flee from this noisy interloper.

Soon I’m at the barrow, huddled amongst the trees, the outline of the monument clearly visible since most of the vegetation has either died back in the harsh winter, or else been cropped by the fiendly neighbourhood deer. As I take in the whole of the monument it almost looks like a cutaway diagram of a barrow, the footings of the mound still clearly visible, the entrance portal stones standing proud, and a thick stone defining the end of the barrow (presumably the Devil likes to prop his feet up when in bed).

I crouch down to take a closer look at the portal stones, getting a few nettle stings in the process, but noticing what could possibly be three cupmarks on the interior facing of the stone. Once again I curse the fact that I’ve left the camera at home, and so am forced to take photo’s with the phone (which singularly fails to provide a decent picture of the cupmarks), oh well just an excuse to return I guess.

As I sit quietly here a buzzard swoops in low and lands in the tree next to me, and I’ll echo Rhiannon’s thoughts, it is lovely here, and the sort of place you could spend hours. It seems as if few people visit, there was certainly no evidence of any rubbish or offerings at the site, and it feels like this is the Severn-Cotswold barrows best kept secret. Often it is some of these lesser known places that retain a more tangible atmosphere.

I notice that the village church seems to be in a direct line with the barrow, which along with attributing the stones to the Devil, is one of those terribly insecure Christian gestures, to defame any other alternative beliefs. Well if the devil has all the best tunes, then he also seems to have the best places, as I’d much rather be here in this magical place than in the cold dour surroundings of the local church. With that thought I head back to The Bell, to finish off a site visit in the best possible way, with a nice pint.

Visited 6th April 2013

Well this a strange little place. I stopped off after a visit to Stoney Littleton, having discovered the village of Faulkland was only a couple of miles from that site (thanks TMA website!).

It’s easy enough to park next to the village green, which stands next to the unexpectedly busy A366, and I get out to have a poke around the stones.

Two weathered old stones flank a rickety pair of stocks, with a stumpy square stone having been thoughfully provided as a seat for the unfortunate penitent. There are also a couple of other stones evident sticking up from the manicured grass of the green. The stones undoudtedly have some age to them, but I’m sure that any alignment or structure they once belonged to has long gone, and they were repurposed, effectively a glorifed field clearence doing double duty as a prominent site of local punishment.

A couple of benches and a flagpole on the well tended green add to the overall incongruency of the site, but the continual whizz of traffic through the village doesn’t inspire me to sit here for long.

Visited 6th April 2013

It feels like the first proper day of spring today, so a trip out is definitely in order. I’ve a great fondness for Stoney Littleton, it was the first site I visited as a result of buying the papery TMA all those years ago from a bookshop in Glastonbury, prompting me to visit it that same day, and firing an obsession that has lead me to many wonderful sites over the years.

Take note if you’ve not visited before that the small brown signpost pointing the way up the lane to the barrow as you enter Wellow is now completely obscured by vegetation, so it’s easy to miss the sharp right-hand turn as soon as you enter the village.

After negotiating the narrow lane I parked up in the small parking spot, idyllically placed next to the bubbling Wellow brook, and walked up the hill towards the barrow. It felt good to be out and about, surrounded only by the call of birds and bleating of the sheep (and some very cute lambs).

The barrow was looking neat and tidy, and as I descended into the long passage, which really does seem to stretch back forever, I was heartened not to find any old tealights, litter or other ‘offerings’ which on previous occasions have been mouldering away in the inner chambers. Instead I just crouch at the back of the barrow and contemplate for a bit.

Stoney Littleton has a sort of understated grandeur, it’s not the largest long barrow, and doesn’t have an impressive portalled frontage, just the fine artistic eye of whoever selected that amazing fosillised ammonite for the entranceway, but it doesn’t need them. This is a place that feels right, a perfect example of the barrow builders art.

Outside I sit against the barrow to write my fieldnotes. The warm yellow Cotswold stone of the perimeter dry stone walling of the barrow infuses the place with a warmth, no sombre feelings of death here, just a glorious remembrance and re-birth. Sitting here I’m pervaded with what I can only describe as a mellow vibe. The barrow sits perfectly in the bright spring landscape, even the old nearby landfill site has now blended into the landscape, and the concrete plaque cemented to the barrow entrance, proudly proclaiming it’s restoration by affixing a great anachronism to its frontage, which normally irritates me, now seems rather quaint, an antique in itself as most of the inscription has now worn away, a signifier of the monument’s more recent past, like the old Ministry of Works signs you still find from time to time at megalithic sites.

Days like today just underline to me everything that’s great about visiting the remains of our prehistory, and why I love this hobby so much, Stoney Littleton is truely special place to be, and one of the best barrows you can visit.

Visited 2nd February 2013

As I cautiously pick my way down the icy path to Carn Liath traffic speeds past on the A9, seemingly oblivious to the fine broch so near to the road. I’m sure it’s often overlooked, but it’s becoming a bit of a tradition for us to stop of here as we make the long trip up to Orkney. In the ten years since the last fieldnotes on this place there is now a sign erected to mark the handy parking place just across the road from the broch.

Today a dusting of snow makes everything look particularly picturesque, and there is a lot to like here. The snow covering the large low broch is undisturbed until I set foot on it, and I climb up to the top of the walls to get a good look down into the interior of the tower. The double skinned walls, and steps up from the inner courtyard are still in fine condition despite the drastic reduction in the height of the broch.

From here there are some fantastic views, clouds glower out to sea pierced by slanting sunbeams in the early morning light, and the fairytale towers of Dunrobin castle on the horizon adding to the whole Narnia vibe present in the quiet lulls between the occasional traffic.

This is a fantastic broch, although not the most spectacular or well known, I really like it here, and I’d urge anyone who finds themselves this far north to stop off for a visit, you won’t regret it.

Visited 5th February 2013

Access to these stones proved easier than in Moth’s old fieldnotes. As you come into Stromness on the main road from Kirkwall take a right at the mini-roundabout onto North End Road, soon, bear right again onto Back Road, which wends its way up the brea at the back of the town. At the next mini-roundabout head right again on the Outertown Road, from which you you soon see a brown signpost directing you to turn left to Warebeth beach. We parked down near the graveyard on the coast, not risking the bumpy narrow road which gives access to the small parking area overlooking the beach.

From here follow the coastal path, and you will soon see the profile of the stones on the horizon. After crossing a small burn the path takes a sharp turn right and heads inland. Just a short ways up this path you will see a lane to your left which leads straight into the field containing the stones. Today (as with my last visit) this heavily rutted lane is full of pools of water, but a handy ridge between the deep tyre ruts acts like a causeway to keep our feet dry.

At the stones, both solid blocks around 4’ high, you get great views out over the bay. It is still windy today, but nowhere near the storm force winds of the last couple of days which had shut down the ferries, and from our vantage point at the stones we watch the MV Hamnavoe labour its way through the heavy seas on its crossing to Scrabster.

The sun is out, but on the way up we were pelted by a quick rain/hail storm, such is the capriciousness of the Orcadian weather, and now a rainbow is visible over toward Stromness. As we stand at the stones the raw elemental power of Orkney is tangible, as huge waves break at the beach, and snow is still visible on the high hills of Hoy across the water.

I take a look at the other nearby stone mentioned in the fieldnotes, but again am not sure whether it was ever part of an alignment, somehow it feels more perhaps like an ancient boundary stone. Regardless it’s a fine place here, a pleasent walk, wonderful views and a pair of megalithic stones, what more could you ask for!

Visited 11th November 2012

We parked up opposite the Andle stone today, and taking advantage of the fine weather walked across Stanton Moor, passing the Cork Stone, to the Nine Ladies.

It’s been about five years since I was last here, though I’ve visited so many times, as it’s the closest stone circle to where I live, and sometimes I think you forget just what treasures you can find on your doorstep, as I wonder why I’ve left it so long to come back. The circle looks perfect in todays sunshine, and as usual is busy with walkers.

As mentioned in previous posts this place has a joyful atmosphere and it is truly beautiful here, it’s nice to re-connect with the circle on this crisp winter’s afternoon. The low sun is throwing some great shadows, which nicely pick out the low mound on which the stones are set.

Walking up to the King stone it seems as if the poor outlier is leaning at a more severe angle than I remember it, but perhaps it’s just my memories playing tricks. I certainly vow not to leave it so long until I return again next time!

Visited 1st November 2012

The weather is as fine as you could wish for on a winter’s day, with no wind, certainly a rarity in Orkney, and the sun giving off a weak warmth from the clear blue sky. The coastline of Yesnaby is fantastic, and we’ve often walked here, but never yet to the broch. At the remains of the old shore battery at Yesnaby we park up, if you head to the left you will soon come to the impressive seastack of Yesnaby castle, but today we head right along the cliftop instead and towards the broch.

Although the fields are a bit muddy from the recent rain, we pick our way across them, surveyed by curious cows, and climb over a couple of stiles which bridge the ‘standing stone’ fences which divide up the fields here. Soon the broch is visible on its headland, and straight away I’m pleasently surprised by how much remains, particularly after having seen the sad remains of the nearby Oxtro broch earlier. The intact doorway beckons you in, and the walls must rise to around six feet in height at the front of the tower. The doorway now though is chocked with rubble and the entrance low.

I pick my way around the edge of the tower, very close to the cliff edge, and feeling a bit like a character from a videogame, before I step over the remains of the seaward wall which has now mostly gone after fifteen centuries of battering from the prevailing winds. Inside much of the stonework has fallen into the centre of the tower leaving a jumble of stones.

Although both smaler and more ruined that Orkney’s more famous brochs of Midhowe and Gurness, Borwick is hidden gem and certainly worth a visit. We sit down on a grassy hummock at the back of the broch and watch the sea crashing against the rocks at the foot of us. It’s warm enough to sit comfortably, and taking previous contributor JCHC’s advice break out the flask for a nice cup of coffee. The only sounds are the sounds of the sea and the trickle of the waterfall next to us as it tumbles over the rocks down to the shore.

The vivid colours of the clear northern light give the landscape a painterly quality, and as we sit here watching the sun dip lower everything seems a bit surreal. Ellen and I sit together quietly lost in our own thoughts as sun sets to our left, colouring the sea a blood red. A place like this is a wonderful spot to just sit and take everything in, to absorb the magical atmosphere of Orkney, but now as the sun sets the chill of evening starts to bite, so we set off back on our walk to the car.

Visited 31st October 2012

There’s not much more I can add to what has already been written about what to me is the finest stone circle in Britain. Large enough to be awe inspiring, small enough to still feel intimate, remote enough to feel like you stand amidst the cyclopean remains of an ancient civilisation in the furthest flung corner of these islands, but accessible enough that you can drive right up to it (or roll up in a tour bus!). For me only Callanish comes close to giving this place a run for it’s money.

I’ve seen Brodgar in all weathers, only a few days ago it was snowing, I’ve also been here when it was so misty you could barely see the stones, and for a fantastic sunset, when in a Pythonesque moment a horde of photographers suddenly appeared from nowhere and proceeded to run around the circle with tripods, jostling for position, all of them in their quest for the best angle of the sunset through the stones. It’s no wonder as Brodgar is one of the most photogenic of ancient sites, and tonight, a clear Samhain evening we’ve come up to the circle to try some long exposure shots.

It’s cold, and a low mist clings to the henge ditch around the stones, amplifying the already otherworldly atmosphere. There is no sign of anyone else around, indeed this week on Orkney has been much quieter now we are out of season than our last trip in August, when regular visitors on the tour bus circuit could be guaranteed. We get our photos and as we walk away I look back at the circle, and marvel that something built so long ago can have such an effect on me today.

This is a place everyone who loves megalithic sites should visit, If I could only ever visit one ancient site again this would be it, my ‘Desert Island stone circle’! Brodgar is one of my special places, a truly sublime circle.

Visited 29th October 2012

Deepdale is one of those stones often viewed, its prominent position on a ridge overlooking the main Stromness to Kirkwall road means you always see it peeking into view as you drive along the main road across the island. Actually visiting it though is not quite as straightforward, there being no obvious place to park up anywhere near to the stone, which is why I’ve always admired it from a distance until today.

I parked at the nearby chambered tomb of Unstan (itself a must see) and took a brisk walk along the A965 towards the stone, which can be seen atop its ridge even from Unstan. Although busy by Orkney standards the trek along the road is not too onerous, and only takes about ten minutes. If you wanted to park a peedie bit closer then there is a pull in (probably for the benefit of fishermen) just over the Bridge of Waithe to your left (if you are heading in the Stromness direction). As you approach the stone an obvious muddy rutted track heads up the rise, but I wouldn’t fancy risking taking a vehicle on it unless it was a 4x4 or tractor! Past the large mound of old tyres at the top of the track the stone is clearly visible, although on the other side of a low barbed wire fence. I managed to step over the said obstacle, as I couldn’t see an obvious gate into the field from this direction.

I’m actually quite glad I approached the stone in this way, I like having a bit of a walk in to a site, rather than just pulling up and piling out of the car, in some ways it feels more adventuresome, and fires my imagination, feeling like a quest or pilgrimage to these places, particularly as here at Deepdale you can see the stones in view all the way as you approach, beckoning you on. It’s probably why I romanticise these places so, the idea of a quest to visit even smallest little stump of stone enough to set my heart fluttering, and it’s all part of the experience of visiting a site, soaking in the atmosphere, which for me is the main thing, rather than just ticking another site of the list.

There is cetainly plenty of atmosphere here today, the clear wintry light over the loch seems surreal, the primary colours of the water and the Orkney landscape as vivid as a child’s painting, and the haunting call of Curlews and Oystercatchers floating over the loch.

Now I’m sat on a comfortable tussock of grass which has established itself over one of the chocking stones at the base of the menhir, providing a comfortable seat to look out over the lovely view across the Loch of Stenness, the diamond shaped Deepdale stone at my back. I can see most of the sites of the sacred Brodgar landscape from here, Maes Howe clearly visible, and the tiny forms of the distant Stones of Stenness can just be made out.

From here I can also see an interesting looking stone in the field boundary to the east, and on closer inspection it looks as if it could possibly be a standing stone, it is certainly seperate from the fenceline, and I’ll post a picture so that maybe someone may be able to shed some light on it.

People may wonder how I can rabbit on and get so enthused by what is in effect a stone in a field (I’ve encountered several farmers in my time that held this view!), but enthroned here in this wonderful landscape, sat by this ancient stone, it really answers the question of why I do this.

Visited 26th October 2012

I’m quite fond of the Comet Stone, as Ellen and I got handfasted here in 2005. Also as Carl says in his fieldnotes, not many people bother to come out to see the stone, always in the shadow of its more impressive big brother, you can stand here and watch the coach loads of visitors process around the ring, with not one of them casting a glance towards the poor old Comet Stone.

As we approached the Ring of Brodgar on foot along the path from the Stones of Stenness we came to the Comet Stone first. Standing on the small mound on which the stone perches, storm clouds gather around us, and waves are being whipped up on the Loch of Harray. I can’t spot any sign of the two small stubby stones by the base of the Comet Stone, scrubby tufts of grass hiding them from sight.

You also get a great view of Brodgar on the horizon from here, but this lovely stone is reason enough to take a detour from the main stone circle to get up close and personal with it.

Visited 26th October 2012

As fine a monolith as you’ll ever see, but the Watchstone sometimes gets overlooked amongst the excitement of visiting Stenness and Brodgar. There are clear blue skies over the Ness of Brodgar at the moment, but ominous clouds gather around on the horizon, and we drove through a snow shower on the way here from Kirkwall.

As I stand at the base of the stone in the bitter morning air, I just marvel at the immense menhir in front of me. I love this stone, it’s usually one of the first places I come to when I get to Orkney, in a way the Watchstone is a touchstone for me, a signifier that I’m here, in my favourite place in the heart of Neolithic Orkney. We had a horrendously rough crossing over from Aberdeen last night, seasickness striking Ellen, but standing here, all of the ordeal of the journey up seems worthwhile.

Ellen and I parked the car up at Stenness and walked along the road to the stone, the path continuing along a newly constructed lochside route, which leads you on a lovely walk, onwards from the stone, past the site of the Ness of Brodgar excavations until you get to the Ring of Brodgar itself, a walk well worth taking, just make sure to say hello to the Watchstone on your way, as he keeps a silent watch out across this ancient landscape.

Visited 9th August 2012

For the impatient this site can be visited within minutes of leaving the ferry after arriving on Orkney, which is what I did on my first visit to Mainland, overwhelmed as I was by the excitement of finally being here.

In fact I would recommend coming to Unstan first for two reasons. Firstly it allows a great vista across the Loch of Stenness to take in the heart of the Neolithic Orcadian landscape, Maes Howe, the Stones of Stenness and Brodgar are all visible from here. Secondly it’s worth remembering just how impressive this site is, something which can be overshadowed by the sheer grandeur of its more famous nearby neighbours, or after the megalithic overload of the surfeit of ancient sites on Orkney leads to complacency.

Today I take the opportunity to sit atop the mound and take in the wonderful views while I write my fieldnotes and Ellen sketches. Inside the cairn is a good size and an interesting hybrid of stalled cairn, with a side chamber such as those found in the tombs such as Maes Howe and the Fairy Knowe. Fortunately there are no smelly offerings inside today, but the covering of green algae colonising the stones seems to be getting ever greater. When I first visited in 1999 I remember there being hardly any on the stones, now it’s everywhere. Probably the horrendous excavation methods courtesy of archaeological cowboys Callander & Grant in 1934, which ripped off the original roof before slapping on a concrete dome, is leading to the problem. The concrete impeding ventilation, whilst the skylight in the roof raises the temperature inside enough to increase the interior humidity. I hope Historic Scotland are monitoring things to prevent any permanent damage to the stones.

The bird carving and twig runes are still visible thankfully on the lintel to the side chamber, and despite its increasingly verdant interior, it’s nice to spend sometime inside a light and spacious cairn. I’ve a soft spot for this place, as it always reminds me of my first trip to Orkney, and I think of it whenever I look at my reproduction Unstan ware bowl I bought all those years ago on my first time on the island. Although often overlooked don’t pass it by, you’ll be missing out if you do!

Visited 11th August 2012

We set off early from Kirkwall to catch the first ferry of the morning to Hoy, taking advantage of one of the extra sailings taking place that day due to the Kirwall County show being on. It’s severely foggy as we drive to Houton to get the boat, although I’m putting my trust in the weather forecast which is predicting a fine day later. I’m hoping this is the case, having experienced the bleakness of Hoy in grim weather before. My previous visits to the Dwarfie Stane have been via the foot passenger ferry from Stromness, and it’s nice not to have the long walk on foot to reach the tomb, with the ever present threat of missing the boat back and having to emulate Mr Mounsey by spending a night inside the Stane itself.

Arriving at Lyness is like entering an eerie otherworld, as the shapes of the large WW1 era oil tank, and the battleship guns outside the Scapa Flow museum loom out of the mist. The three other vehicles present on our crossing zoom off, and within ten minutes of disembarking we are alone, not a soul visible anywhere, and the feeling of being marooned on a deserted island all pervading.

By the time we have driven to Betty Corrigal’s grave the mist is thinning, and the lonely white gravestone is just visible away from the bleak road, which as it climbs higher breaks out above the fog to a gorgeously clear sunny blue sky. The Dwarfie Stane is well signposted from the road, and pulling into the nice roomy layby opposite the path, you can just make out the stone block of the tomb hunkering beneath the cliffs of the Dwarfie Hamars. Once again I’m struck by how remote this place feels, although now with sunny blue skies and the sparkling azure sea in the background things don’t feel as brooding as when I was last here.

The path to the stone is well defined, although rocky and occasionally rough going, and seems a further walk from the road than I remember, but once you reach the tomb it is so worth it! Such a unique monument, and I love the rich and redolent folklore surrounding it. It’s a truly magical location. Inside things are just as spectacular, surprisingly roomy and comfortable, I waste no time in reclining on the stone ‘bed’ and if I were camping in this desolate landscape I can think of worse places to shelter. I could certainly see Snorro the dwarf making a comfortable home here!

It’s also worth mentioning the incredible resonance of the acoustics inside the stone, in one particular area near the centre of the chamber the bass reverberations, even just from normal speech can be felt as a physical thing. It also looked as if there might be at least one large cupmark on the interior face of the blocking stone, which interestingly enough would have meant the carving was for the benefit of the interred occupant, rather than any sort of external decoration, and reminded me of the positioning of cupmarks on the interior cist slabs of tombs in the Kilmartin valley.

To echo Carls fieldnotes, this place is a definite must visit, and if you’re ever on Orkney it would be remiss not to visit the Dwarfie Stane, although taking the car over to Hoy is not cheap if budgets are tight the Stromness foot passenger ferry is more reasonable, although it would involve a long fairly strenuous walk to the stone, it makes it feel even more of a pilgrimage when you get there! (I think there may have been a place that hired out bicycles near to the ferry pier at Moaness on Hoy, last time I came via that route, but that was quite a while ago!)

It’s hard to leave on a day as glorious as today, but we pressed on to Rackwick, a few miles further along the road, and as beautiful a setting as ever you’re likely to see, surrounded by the sea and mountains, in splendid isolation with the islands of Orkney stretching before us, it reminds me again just how wonderful these islands are.

Visited 13th August 2012

I’ve always looked at these stones on past visits to Orkney and wondered if they were once part of a great processional avenue between Stenness and Brodgar, and always marvelled at how fantastic it would be to have such a pair of stones in your front garden.

The fact that they were so close to someone’s house had always deterred me previously from approaching them too closely, instead contenting myself from taking pictures from the roadside. However whilst on a tour of the Ness of Brodgar excavations we were told by our guide that the house had been bought and gifted to the excavation by a mysterious benefactor! Since it was now occupied only by archaelogists on a tea break I took the opportunity after the tour to get up close and personal with the stones.

They seem to both align with Stennes as well as obviously being adjacent with the other structures being uncovered on the Ness, and it will be fascinating to see whether any further evidence of additional stones once having been present comes to light in the future, apparantly long term plans will be for the house to eventually be removed from the site to open up the landscape and allow additional excavations to take place on the site the house occupies (all depandant on securing the continuation of funding for the dig of course)

It’s great to be able to pay an unhurried visit to the stones in the heart of this amazing area of rich prehistoric remains, and keep your eye out for Corncrakes, the RSPB have been developing some Corncrake friendly environments along the Ness to encourage an increase in the birds numbers, we didn’t see any today but we had spotted a small group of them a couple of days previously early in the morning as we were heading out to get the ferry to Hoy.

Visited 12th August 2012

To my mind one of the finest standing stones in Orkney, and so easy to visit, as you head up towards the equally fantastic Brough of Birsay on the A967. The huge 12’ high bulk of the stone is unmissable to your left as you head north towards Birsay. We pulled into a nearby lane, just to the left as you pass the gate to the field, where it is easy to park at the side of the road while you visit the stone.

Although there are many stones on Orkney this one seems to have a real character, and is in a lovely setting near the coast, and looking down to its favourite watering hole of the Loch of Boardhouse.

Letting myself into the empty field through the nearby gate it’s easy enough to duck under the rickety barbed wire fence which cages in the stone (presumably in an effort to curtail it’s nocturnal yuletide wanderings!). A brisk Orcadian wind batters me as I hug the stone, but the gorgeous blue sky and shelter provided by the menhir encourage me to stay a while, and just take in the splendour of this huge stone which has stood here for so long, an ancient landmark even when the Norsemen were here, the name of the neighbouring farm, Stanger, coming from the old Norse ‘steinn-garðr’ meaning ‘Stone Farm’.

Soon I know we’ll have to move on down to Birsay, as the sun is bright and sparkling over the sea, beckoning us down to the coast, but you can’t ignore a visit to a stone such as this, just as long as you don’t get in the way of it’s drinking habits!

Visited 9th August 2012

Having a bit more time on Orkney this trip I thought I’d track down some of the less visited stones on the island, and first on the list was the menhir at the aptly named Staney Hill. Taking the minor road off the A965 just before the Maes Howe visitor centre at Tormiston Mill(a right turn if coming from Kirkwall as we were), the road runs right up behind Maes Howe. Not having access to Wideford’s fieldnotes, we carried on up this road passing the Grimeston junction, whilst I kept my eyes peeled for the Stone o’Hindatuin, which soon could be seen in the field to the right. Ellen pulled into a nearby passing place, as there seemed nowhere else to leave the car. The next difficulty then seemed to be the lack of any visible fieldgates. As I’ve often said I don’t feel I’ve had a proper visit to a place unless I can actually touch the stone, I don’t know why it just makes me feel more ‘connected’ with the place, so refusing to be put off by something as trivial as a barbed wire fence, and with no noticeable livestock in the field, I hopped the wire, barely managing to keep the seat of my trousers intact.

Ellen stayed in the car, both in case of having to move it if we had a sudden rush of traffic, and also, having better sense, deciding she’d quite like to keep her clothes intact. Once into the rather large field, I noticed a distant group of cows now glowering at me disinterestedly, as I headed up to the stone which sits on a natural ridge. From here you get a great view, out down to the Loch of Harray, where Stenness is just visible, and the hills of Hoy, still cloud capped rising proud to the south-west. The stone is huge, it must be about 9’ tall. Some stones around the bottom of the menhir look as if they have been packed at the base to pack the stone, and a grassy covering which has covered the stones now makes for an ideal seat, where I write up my fieldnotes.

This is a fine stone, it’s so peaceful up here, even though directly opposite across the road is a house, there’s no-one else around, with only the sounds of the occasional car interrupting the call of the birds. The stone has the usual light dusting of Orcadian sea moss, and seems to gaze towards Hoy like a silent sentinel, just another of Orkney’s many fine stones. On returning to the car we had a number of strange looks from the man living in the house just up the road, who Ellen said had come out of his house three times to suspiciously stare at the car (obviously thinking we were up to no good!) Aside from the slight access difficulties (which I’m sure would be removed if you follow Wideford’s notes!) this stone is definitely worth the visit.

Visited 11th August 2012

We’ve visited Stenness several times already on this trip to Orkney, but on our way back to Kirkwall after a trip to Hoy, the glorious sunshine was too tempting and so we called in at the stones.

The first time you approach the stones the scale of them hits you, along with their amazing tapering shapes. As the afternoon sun casts long shadows the megaliths look as if they could be an art installation or sculpture park, so forward thinking was the selection and placement of the stones. The good weather has brought other tourists out, and the interior of the circle has somewhat of a festival atmosphere as children play at the base of the stones whilst a man gently strums a mandola and couples hand in hand stroll around the circle. It feels joyous and it is.

The heavily denuded remains of the henge around the circle is still visible, and from the centre the hills of Hoy dominate the horizon as I gaze west. When once a full complement of stones stood around the circle you can only imagine the impact this place would have had in the heart of the most sacred area on Orkney. Its just a pity that eejits such as W. Mackay (a ‘ferry-louper’ if ever there was one) did such damage to the site in 1814.

Stenness though is such an iconic site, and normally one of the first places I stop when arriving on Orkney, it’s got special memories for me, and continues to call me back, and I’m sure anyone who visits will feel its call too..

I was quite surprised by how big this stone was, standing prominently by the side of the road, and clearly visible as you continue to walk along Tal-y-Fan from Maen y Bardd. When I first saw it I thought it might be a natural stone, but small chocking stones are clearly visible around the base, and it looks as if a mound has been built up for the stone to stand on.

Cae Coch is also known as Esgid-y-Cawr or the ‘Giant’s shoe’ apparently. The bumbling behemoth having lost its footwear whilst chasing it’s recalcitrant dog (the same beast reputed to been the cause of Ffon y Cawr as well) It’s certainly a nice chunky stone, it must be a good 7’ tall, eminently huggable, and with a fine view looking out down over the Conwy valley.

I like the idea that this and Ffon y Cawr symbolise the male and female aspects of the land, it may just be a romantic pagan notion, but the stones do seem to be carefully chosen to have that suggestive quality!

Visited 26th May 2012

As I walked from the Rhiw youth hostel, where I’d left the car, I kept my eyes peeled for this one on the approach toward Maen y Bardd, but the smaller of the two ‘Greyhound’s Kennels’ is not easy to spot, hunkered into the hillside as it is. Only after reaching the dolmen of Maen y Bardd itself, and spending some time at that lovely place, did I dig out the OS map, and compass in hand headed off to the ENE.

The jumble of stones across the hillside kept drawing my eye, each one seeming to possibly signify the location of the chamber, but putting all my trust in the compass I soon spotted the ‘blasted tree’ a huge hawthorn canted over at an angle which pointed out the chamber.

And what a place it is! A lovely earthfast chamber, seemingly opening into the hillside. I scooted inside, the chamber surprisingly spacious, although low roofed it must stretch back a good 6’. It’s nice and sheltered in here but still light and airy, mossy growths on the inner stones make it seem like the entrance to a subterranean underworld and I spend some time soaking up the atmosphere, and feeling as if I’m embraced by the earth.

Back outside the chamber I try to get an idea of the layout of the site. A few small stones stand outside the chamber, and a vague outline of a mound once covering the chamber can just be discerned, the whole shape of the burial chamber looks to me almost as if it might have been a wedge-shaped tomb. This enigmatic little chamber is certainly a cracker.

Visited 12th May 2012

There are some places you just don’t appreciate in one visit, and for me Dyffryn Ardudwy was one. The first time I was here I was a bit disappointed by the built up surroundings of the dolmens. Nearby houses and the school seemed to hem in the site and, along with a slightly unsympathetic restoration, one of the chambers was littered with cans and other detritus which indicated it was a favoured party spot for local youths. My next visit was on a grey and rainy day, leaden Welsh skies seeming to bleach the colour from the surroundings as I huddled for shelter next to the tree which canopied the chambers. So today’s visit was one I made just because we were passing. I’m so glad we did.

Like Kammer we parked in the small cul-de-sac of Bro Arthur just past the school, and walked up the short path to the twin dolmens. On this lovely sunny day the site is transformed. Dappled sunlight bathes the monument, and bluebells rather than rubbish, dot the site. I clamber onto the nearby wall to get a more elevated shot of the monument and it’s as if I’m seeing it with new eyes.

The two dolmens are of a good size, and I take a bit more time to investigate the chambers, noting the strange marks gouged into one of the portal stones of the western chamber, which I hadn’t seen before. The eastern chamber is larger, but in places is shored up by some ugly brickwork.

The oak tree growing here is wonderful, and whilst Ellen spends some time sketching the site I climb onto a low sloping branch which is just right to recline on, and contemplate the monument. Although Dyffryn Ardudwy is only the decimated skeleton of the monument it once was the stones around the perimeter allow you to get a sense of the size the monument would have been when covered by a mound or cairn material. Dyffryn Ardudwy is an enigmatic site, despite the relatively urban location, and slightly dodgy restoration, it’s not quite like anywhere else, and retains a special feeling, made extra special on this sublime afternoon. I feel like I finally ‘get’ Dyffryn Ardudwy now!

Visited 26th May 2012

Glorious sunny weather today, and after the recent downpours and grim weather I felt I really needed to get out and about.

I’ve been meaning to visit the Tal-y-fan monuments for ages, but never got around to it so today seemed as good a day as any! Maen-y-Bardd is a site I’d wanted to visit for ages, having seen some lovely photographs of it in the past, which made it look as if it was in an area of splendid mountainous isolation.

After a maddeningly slow meander up the A5, with roadworks and tractors reducing progress to a crawl at times, I turned off the B5106 just south of Conwy and headed into the pretty village of Rowen. I’d decided to approach via the Youth Hostel at Rhiw, so taking a right turn in the village after the hotel, and folowing the ominously dead end signed road, the lane started to climb the hill. Soon the road became extremely steep, (quite possibly one of the steepest I’ve ever driven up!) but the car did sterling work and soon I reached the end of the road. At first I thought I’d missed the Youth Hostel, before realising it was in fact the white building to my left where the metalled road ends, so I pulled into their drive, and with a distinct lack of anyone around to ask whether I’d be OK to park there, I made sure I wasn’t blocking any entrances and left the car there hoping for the best.

A short walk along the lane and the first thing I notice is a small standing stone, (one of the Caerhun stones, although I didn’t realise it as such at the time) behind which the unmistakable silhouette of the dolman is visible.

As others have said this is the absolute epitome of a perfectly presented dolman, perched with amazing views over the Afon Tafalog and down the Conwy valley, and currently being used a shelter by a group of shaggy sheep, eager to escape the midday suns heat.

The sheep soon move as I squeeze myself inside, and just let the cares of the world fall away. The poet stone itself is said to grant the gift of inspiration or madness to those who spend the night here, a legend also told in relation to Cadair Idris, where I once spent a cold and windswept night camping near the summit one February. The jury’s still out on whether that expedition inproved my poetic skills, (and I’m sure those who know me don’t reckon that I could get much madder than I already am!) so maybe I should spend a night in Maen-y-Bardd sometime?

Certainly sitting here in the chamber with this view is inspiring, and it’s cool sheltered and peaceful in here, it’s really quite comfortable complete with a ‘pondering stone’ you can sit on to keep you off the earthen floor.

A great start to the Tal-y-Fan explore, if the other sites that line the old Roman road are even half as good I’m in for a great day!