spencer

This is a very fine stone in my opinion, and also one I cannot help feeling is very underappreciated in view of the lack of any evidence of other visitors since it was rediscovered and its existence put online in 2013. I also cannot but help feel slightly apprehensive about its future in view of the fate of two other stones in the vicinity and the heavy timber extraction machinery clearly in use at this location. I became aware of it through the most illuminating Pecsaetan website of TMA’s Harestonesdown/Geoff and the late Stubob, and I recommend at a minimum reading their homepage for the sage words, including about safety, concerning fieldwalking therein. Several months after the stone went on my ‘must see’ list – as it should be on others – the opportunity arose after a day in the liquid sunshine on Stanton Moor with Geoff, TMA’s Juamei and pals who were company more than equal to the elements. Spirits bolstered and realising that it was difficult for clothing to get much wetter, so what the hell, off to try and find this beleaguered monolith without any aid other than the grid reference on TMA provided by Stubob. Sparing the details of circuituous forest wanderings apart from to say it was dusk when I found it and was on the point of giving up had I not spotted a thin vertical line of greeny grey lichen in the forest gloom, here are directions hopefully sufficient for non GPS enabled others to follow....park opposite the lane leading to Tax Farm with its Caravan Club signs. Walk uphill along the road and on the right hand side after approximately 170 paces you will see a clearly defined little path leading initially at right angles from the road then bearing right by the stone wall which is then crossed through a gap and then you’re in the forestry. Ahead another path is quickly met. Turn left and soon you will see on your right a long, neglected and boggy forest ride between plantations. Squelch along this, negotiating the heavy machinery rutting. A large replanted clearing will come into view on your right. On the left as you make your final approach to that you will see a path joining at right angles. Pause, then continue walking onward counting each step. At around number thirty seven and to your right by the side of the path you will see a fallen stone Turn 180. Ahead you will hopefully see the stone in the gloom – possibly clearer in late afternoon sunshine. Walk eleven pacesish in from the treeline on the left hand side of the path. Touch, pat or, as I did, an extreme behavioural rarity, put your arm round your goal and hug it. Pause again and think of and thank its finder Stubob and all the others now gone who have made this website what it is. The third tallest stone on the Eastern Moors, over six feet, deserves all the attention that you will give.

I must express my gratitude to Terry Howard, eminence grise of Sheffield’s ramblers, for bringing this to my attention and providing directions to its approximate whereabouts. It was he who discovered it many years ago when in the employment of the water board, who oversee neighbouring More Hall reservoir. He reported it promptly to Sheffield Council’s archaeology service, who should hold a record of its discovery date. It was, apparently, the first rock art discovered in South Yorkshire, pre-dating the finding of Eccleshall Woods 1. Subsequent to his finding it, some ne’erdowell uprooted it from the univalate rampart of what appears to be an unrecorded promontory fort or settlement above, for which I will be providing a separate site entry, and it tumbled down onto a plateau some twenty feet below, where it now lies. I do wonder if it has gone completely off Sheffield Archaeology Service’s radar, for reasons apparent if you keep reading...... To find it, park on the far side of the reservoir and walk across the dam. If you look to your right you will see, above and beyond the adjacent Broomhead dam and reservoir, the moors of the same name, my TMA rummaging hangout for the forseeable, and an area I’m becoming increasingly of the opinion is of great archaeological importance. Anyway, back to the star of the show. Terry said I should take the path on the far side of the dam that goes uphill to Brightholmlee, and then bear off it left into the wood following the 60-80’ scarp E above the weir. I saw a worn path in that direction and followed it. It gradually became apparent that those keeping the path worn were, if humanoids, diminutive, as I had to duck under branches, and then as the path proved a challenge to the most agile limbo dancer, I realised that those responsible were four legged. Keeping parallel to it I came to a plateau with a sheer drop through the rhododendrons to my left. This plateau was full of big holes. The four legged creatures were evidently of the black and white striped faced variety. So t h a t s why the grass on top of the dam was so chavelled....As Terry directed, I carried on, but would return to this spot on completion of my search, as stonework and the univalate rampart along the scarp ahead greatly intrigued. First things first: the Great Stone Search. I crossed three babbling rills beyond the platform area that plunged about thirty feet down the drop to my left, and the rampart became progressively more distinct, and I walked along its top, mindful of avoiding being tripped by brambles and plunging over. Yes, there was a plateau, obviously man made, 25’ish below to my left, but where was the stone? There was a large tree in extremis, big boughs and branches hanging over or lying on this flat area, bits n bobs of brambles and ferns, but...no stone. It should have been visible, being described by Terry as about a metre long by half a metre thick, with, thankfully, the cup marks uppermost after it had been toppled. Should have. I was nearing the wood edge. Ahead, beyond a rough stone wall topped with remnants of an iron fence, which could easily have been 18thC, was pasture. I had to descend over the rampart and hunt in the wood below. It was clayey, leafmoulded and bloody slippery. I started to head back W, eyes peeled. Nada. I came to the point that those rills had tumbled to. Too far. Back E again, this time sticking to the flat area immediately below the rampart. The distressed tree’s fallen boughs came into view, a layered jumble of branches up to thirty feet long overlay a huge bough. Something under its cleft end caught my eye. It was totally covered in moss. I could tell if it was wood or stone even. Could it be..? One thing for it, getting my hands dirty. What I do for a living. No problem. What was the problem was all the branches on top of it. Heaving them out the way took twenty minutes before I could lay hands on the object of my curiosity. It was raining and I didn’t care. At last, I could start moss peeling. Stone. I will not forget gradually revealing what was underneath that moss. Cup mark, cup mark, cup mark, another, another, another....I scrabbled away, digging deeper into them, cleaning them out one by one, brushing off, looking....I counted fourteen, gingerly feeling under the huge bough that had missed resting directly on them by an inch or so. Only one cup mark was apparent when I cleared away the branch debris and then moss on the far side of the bough, which, judging by their spacing, could, if it existed, be directly resting on no more than one. Picture time. At last, the stone was ready for its closeup. Then, with reluctance, time to leave this rediscovered buried treasure. Pat, stroke, appreciate. I checked the old fenced stone wall by the pasture for any more cup marks, but found none. Certainly worth another look when I return, which I will – the wood will be a sea of bluebells in a few months..... I climbed back up to the rampart, walked back along it and then looked down after I passed that sad wreck of a tree. This time the formerly moss and branch covered stone looked back. I could see the cup marks from sixty feet away. Now I hope others will. Now for that fort.. Cheers, Terry.