spencer

I drove up and down the adjacent minor road looking for the stone without success, and then pulled into a track on the roads western side approximately where the Landranger indicated the stone should be, and walked up the sloping track towards a gate, thinking that the stone was in the fields beyond. There was a huge silage dump topped with tyres adjacent to the gate. One lorry tyre was propped up by the gate..then I disbelievingly realised what it was propped up against: the stone. The metal barrier retaining the silage was only about three inches away from it. I rolled the tyre away, took some pictures and then rolled the tyre back, as it would have provided protection from heavy farm vehicles. The stone looks redoubtable, and should outlast the dump by many centuries.. but what ignominious surroundings at present. It got a very big pat. Visit and do likewise.

Dunskirloch is the most northerly site on Galloway’s ‘hammerhead’, and is a short distance E of Corsewall Point,with its fine lighthouse. I had visited in ‘14 and failed to find the site, and nearly did so again. I climbed up to the promontory, most of which was bare rock. Truth be told, I did not notice at the time the mound on top of the promontory mentioned by Canmore, only read subsequently – a degraded cairn? – and only found some large stonework of a foundation course when descending. The builders had made full use of the adjacent stone scarp in construction. Sadly most of their efforts must be in neighbouring field walls or in the surrouds of the lighthouse. There are narrow clefts on the E and W sides of the promontory which could have been used as boat landings, but the one on the W side now contains a fair sized debris dump. Only by examining a photograph herewith of the latter subsequently did I notice what may be further lurking unrecorded stonework. I need to go back for another look...hardly a chore as I like it there. A good place for a sunny day chill. Fine view to Ailsa Craig, the Irish ferries toing and froing.. but if you’re thinking of visiting solely in hope of significant remains you’ll be disappointed. Why the site was chosen is readily understandable. One for the visualisers.

It is possible to drive to the beach and park very near the site.. when the tarmac road ends continue slowly down the stone track – being mindful of its raised centre – till you come to a couple of houses. Opposite the yellow painted one there is a gate with cattle grid and beyond the track to the shore. Drive down this – or as most folk do, down the grass alongside it, and you can park at the bottom where the track turns north sharply. Dounan Nose’s promontory is a couple of hundred yards south through a gate. Both sides of the promontory are in places sheer, but the top is still reachable elsewhere with a little scramble. The site is pretty flat topped, and there’s not much in the way of archaeology visible now – see Canmore. I found a little area of stonework on its inland, southern side, that was it. Despite this, and like, it seems, all the coastal sites of Galloway’s western shore, still worth a visit, and if you’re also a sea angler even more so.

I’d been to Glentirrow and thence to cairns north of New Luce on the Barrhill road, the sun was sinking.. time for this today too? Not really, but couldn’t resist, despite gammy leg. The Caves had been on my hitlist when planning my holiday, and the photos had sealed it – this place was a must see. Parking at the side of the minor road where the Southern Upland Way crosses, then up the track to the gate with side gate for walkers, and up the slope alongside the plantation. The Way here is undefined, choose any rut from several. Another gate came into view. Beyond, a hairy silhouette with big horns. Gawd, not a g a i n. A highland cow, calf alongside. Since there was a gate between I approached. A motley collection of other cattle were there too. All turned and ambled off. Should I continue or head back? The former. The more distinct track was boggy in places. The trees were behind me, a stone wall to my left. At the top of the rise was another gateway which had no gate. The left hand gatepost is an old railway sleeper. Had I looked to my left there I would have seen the site, but I kept my eyes front as more cattle came into sight. Warily I continued down the track, crossed over a stream and then bore sharp left on another track, up and over a rise. The cattle were a few hundred yards away and stayed put. Like Glentirrow, in 2015 there’s no signs to your destination. Beyond a wire fence and gate I saw a rectangular fenced off area, and thought the Caves were in it. No. The foundations of a building, covered in black plastic. Where were they? The sun was setting and the light was going. I looked to my left and saw a capstone’s silhouette on a rise about two hundred yards away. Phew, just in time. I tried to get to them, and found that the ground between contained very deep, hidden drainage channels. Be warned. Really. I picked my way across, and made it. It was worth it. A great place. If only I could have stayed longer. The sun was hitting the horizon. I stood a minute or two, circled, took some pics then headed for the wire fence, thinking, rightly, that the drainage channels would cease before it. The fence was followed back to the gate by the rectangular fenced area. Soggy footwear was a better price to pay than a fall in one of those drainage channels. It was then that a bull started roaring. F**k. I had to go in that direction to get back to the Way. I kept a low profile as I returned to the top of the rise. Which of those dark lumps beyond was the bull? A second then roared somewhere in the distance in response to the first. Back on the track I walked as quick as I could, looking behind, listening for footfalls. None. Onward, back to the ‘sleeper’ gateway, paused. The Caves appeared ghostly against the vegetation surrounding them. I resolved to return, said farewell, returned to the other gate. No highland cattle. Relief. It was very nearly dark. The plantation was now a roost to inumerable crows and jackdaws, and I thought of recording their cacophany as a new ringtone for my phone. No time. Onward... I could scarcely see where I was going, but knew at the bottom of the slope was the final gate. I was glad to make out its shape, and knew that a little way down the stone track beyond was my car. Boy, was I relieved to sit inside it again. Finding that the Southern Upland Way has bulls on it and no warning signs is something future visitors should note. Back to lovely New Luce. It has a fine pub, the Kenmuir Arms. Good Beer Guided. Driving, I couldn’t drink, despite temptation. Back past Glentirrow’s stones to beyond Leswalt on the North Rhins, my tent and chicken curry under the stars. Memo to self and others: Friday night at the Kenmuir is haddock and chip night. They smelt good. Next time...

Yet again inadvertedly following in CARL’s wake – I hadn’t seen his fieldnotes till just before posting this – this was my fourth site on my final day in this lovely part of the world, and I had a further three on the day’s hit list, trying to catch up after doing my leg a mischief. Perhaps I wasn’t in the right frame of mind, but the single standing stone and its fallen friends – yes, they should definitely be re-erected – didn’t really grab me despite their magnitude. A lot of this may be due to their immediate surrounds.. I felt that the fence was a bit superfluous, unless it was to delineate ownership of the site, and that the very neatly cut grass somehow didn’t suit as well as natural length pasture would have. The site felt cooped up, tamed. I spent about half an hour there, but a fair bit of that was scanning the horizon, looking at the high points, trying to reconcile them with the Landranger. I took about twenty pics, turned and left. Yes, I want to return, yes, I do not want to put others off from visiting here, but I got far more from visiting the Wren’s Egg and Nest, particularily since I’d found what I’m now sure are further unrecorded or unrecognised in situ outliers tucked away there when fieldwalking, immediately before this visit. My head was still abuzz, and these stones may well make a bigger impression on return, which, all being well, is a certainty as I didn’t visit the other sites in the immediate vicinity. What a hotspot Monreith and its environs is. Certainly, though, stone size to me is unimportant. I think I ‘got more’ out of dumpy, abused little Knockinaam. Each to their own. Stones patted, nonetheless.

I totally agree with what CARL says. My visit, some three months after his, was in the late afternoon of a blue sky day. It was a change to visit a site that was well signed. The only other vehicles iin the visitors carpark were heavy farm machinery. Up the track beyond a short distance and an access gate came into view on the left. Through this, and there was the camp, with access directly ahead to its middle. Grass, as per Barsalloch fort, pretty manicured. Historic Scotland does its job. I circled anticlockwise, snapping away with camera and smartphone. I had visited over twenty five sites and found no one else there. Same here. I could take the place in undisturbed. I disagree with CARL about the ditch height, which, particularily at the far end, was well above my head when I descended to its bottom. Climbing up at halfway along the far end I continued snapping away.. I think the best view of the place is from here. I held my camera above my head to capture panoramic views, and then noticed that the sun setting behind me was casting my long shadow over the earthworks. I snapped some more. Such a well preserved place. Those that doubted its antiquity pre excavation can be readily forgiven. Continuing my circuit I reached the second last corner, and looked down. There at my feet on the grass at the edge of the ditch was a syringe. If ever there was a more unpleasant juxtaposition of ancient and modern... my photography became darker. The sun was going down and would be setting in under an hour. This was the last day of my holiday, and I had resolved at its outset that the finale would be at Torhouskie. Time to go.

How to find Teroy – it’s worth the effort, simple if you know. After leaving the A77 I parked on the other side of the minor road to the single storey house that precedes Craigcaffie and walked down the adjacent very pleasant tree-lined stone farm track, straight initially. After the track crossed a stream it curved NE, following the stream’s course, whereupon a strip of forestry came into view. I walked round the end of a very dilapidated metal gate and up an overgrown track with the sound of the burbling stream on one side and forestry on the other. After a couple of hundred metres or so another gate came into view, which was by no means vertical, held up by wire, and had to be climbed. Beyond was pasture, and visible at the other side of this was another metal gate at the edge of a far more substantial area of forestry. This one could be opened and shut. The overgrown track resumed, stone wall on the stream side. The track was virtually impassable with verdant bracken and gorse. After a few yards a very well worn animal track – I assume deer – headed into the forestry on my right. I took it and walked between the conifers, climbing uphill looking for signs of the broch... which I eventually found – but directions for finding are based on my return journey. So: walk keeping parallel to the overgrown track about three trees into the plantation so your eyes dont get poked by low dead branches. Eventually as you climb gently you will come across, in close proximity, a strip of corrugated asbestos, a large curved piece of corrugated iron, and then a large rough tressle table with a corrugated iron top. When you get to the latter, look uphill along the conifer row. You will see a clearing, sky beyond, with a small tree – a hawthorn – on its left. You are looking at the broch. Walk up between the conifers and you will find a very peaceful place. There are some roughly circular stone outworks some three feet high which also make use of a natural stone outcrop – I wonder whether these are part of an earlier structure, and whether the place was reused by the brochs builders, building their structure on the NE part of these. There is a more substantial natural stone outcrop on the SE side. Devoid of forestry this promontory broch would have had a fine view over Loch Ryan. The stonework of the broch itself is only about a foot or so high, but of a fair thickness. In summer it will be difficult to fully appreciate the sites construction due to the covering of bracken, nonetheless I found greenery of any nature a pleasant contrast to the surrounding conifers. It really was a fine place to be on a sunny day. I heard a raptors call, and then a goshawk flew over, and another called in response. I pottered around photographing, and found a stonework lined void a couple of feet deep on the E, landward, side side, where I assume the entrance was. I clicked away, and then a piece of moss covered stone that I was standing on gave way. I fell into this void, camera in one hand, smartphone in the other, unable to arrest my fall. My right thigh muscle hurt rather a lot. End of visit. I was able to hobble back to the car, thankfully. There had been no mobile phone signal had I not. A most salutory lesson. Things could have been worse. There can be perils in solo adventures of this nature. Visits to subsequent sites had to be based on nearness to my car, some shelved for another time. My leg took days to mend. Nonetheless, I want to return to Teroy. It was a little peaceful green island. So, plenty of archaeology to see and ponder over... a reused site? Make sure you don’t fall into it, though.

One advantage of autumn holidays in this part of Scotland is that like as not you can have places to yourself. I particularily appreciated it here. The farm track remains driveable since Broch’s visit, with stone bases to the wheel ruts. Drive slowly, mindful of the ridge between, and you’ll be fine. It was certainly worth it.. a glorious sunny day, empty car park, and Ardwell Bay is superb. You have two choices of route to the broch, the walk round the point from the bay, or taking the track that leads to the cottage a little bit beyond the car park, and then a path, vertiginous in places, leading from the cottage round the point, when the broch comes into view.. or you can treat the walk as a circular one, as I did., taking Broch’s route. As you approach the broch, the path runs along a very narrow ridge with drops either side. This would have been the original path used during occupancy as there is no other feasiible approach, and it is worth looking at the block stonework underneath your feet, very probably original. The two entrances to the broch renained sufficiently intact to get the gist of the place, and somebody has tried to rebuild a little bit of the walls to create more substance, but weather should make short work of this. The rest of the site was substantially degraded, but nonetheless this remains a place well worth visiting and spending time. Next to Stairhaven it’s the best preserved broch in these parts. I recommend climbing a way up the adjacent slope and looking down, seeing how it fits into the land and seascape and why the site was chosen. It is surrounded by drops to the sea on three sides, with one sheltered cleft with could have been used for boat haulage. A site high on ambiece. It was low tide, and I walked along Ardwell Bay’s footprint free sand after completing my circular walk, munching on the edible seaweed, while a pair of divers and their young fished as they traversed the bay parallel to me, no more than a hundred feet away. If the weather’s on your side a fine place to chill. For those visiting with family in tow this place is a must.

What a rare pleasure it was to visit some stones and not find cattle in the field. Yes, there’s a little bit of erosion round their bases, but they look set for another thousand years, easy. I spent some time circling round them, photographing, using them to frame the Wrens Egg and Nest, basking in the autumn sunshine in the field downhill and over the road. I walked from Monreith over the fields to get to these and the latter, on the way encountering an elderly lady and helping her with a troublesome gate. We had a good chat as we walked slowly, and I asked her if she thought the farmer would mind me visiting the sites on thier land. Oh no, it would be fine. She carried on when I stopped to photograph...and then went into the farmhouse. No problems here. Enjoy. What I do regret is not visiting the nearby Fell of Barhullion, which lowered over the far side of loch. The Wren had blue sky, the Fell a backcloth of dark cloud. A leg injury while broching meant I had to ration my walking somewhat. The Fell, capped with dark vegetation, I assume gorse, looks a place with presence. Next time. Ditto all the cup and ring marked rocks. There’s scope for a daysworth of exploring within a small radius of Monreith. Not as big a hotspot of sites as, say, Kilmartin, but, nonetheless, lots to see. All that I went to I want to revisit.. lots to absorb too. Why Galloway and the Machars seem to be so little visited, both by contributors to TMA and generally, is a mystery. I’m hooked.

I visited this site in 2014 and thought it a ‘must’ to return to this year... one of those places that has a nice, very tranquil feel to it. Well cared for by Historic Scotland. It is unexcavated. Views over lush farmland eastward, and great views over Luce Bay westward and below.. I’ve sat and watched the sun sink over the Mull of Galloway: a recommended experience. Worth the climb up those steps from the small car park, even though they’ve made me blow a bit. Take a look at the slightly raised almost complete circle of stone rubble that protrudes from the manicured grass at the cliff edge midway between the two westward ends of the D-shaped ditch overlooking the bay – remains of an earlier cairn, perhaps? If driving down the A747 to Monreith with all it’s nearby sites, stop. It is right by the road. Be warned though, you may find yourself lingering for longer than you intended. Time stops here.

Definitely only access from the shore, and at low tide. I had a walk a good way along the clifftop path which heads south from Stairhaven, and it is either precipitous or a mass of bramble and gorse. Ouch. Nonetheless I recommend a walk along the path as there is a good view down to the broch at one point and it helps to show the sites place in the land and seascape. Of the brochs seen in west Galloway I thought this was certainly the best preserved, even though that’s not saying much. Well worth a visit.. but do watch that tide.

Since I visited last year the sign to the stones has gone. There are now no further signs to the stones. If without GPS do not rely on the OS map to get your bearings when driving. The most distinctive feature in the vicinity, the forestry plantation to the north of the road to New Luce, has been significantly reduced to a rectangle away from the road. From the look of the stumps this happened at least ten years ago. So, to find the stones: park near the white ‘2M’ stone and go through the new bare metal gate after assessing the direction of the road there. This mirrors the direction of the longest approach part of the path to the stones. Head, as has been said before, for eighty metres or so along the path to where the first sign used to be. There you will find a little stream – or at least a muddy patch – and an area of bracken, sedge etc. Cross the stream and continue along the defined path across a section of resumed rough grassland for another hundred metres. For the last part of this section you will have an area of sedge on raised ground on your left/western side. When the sedge patch ends not continue ahead on the clearly defined path – this is the wrong direction. Instead, hug the edge of the sedge patch as it turns northwestwards and start to ascend the hill via an initially ill defined path...several little ruts. Soon this path becomes significantly more defined. It has two ruts, and is pretty straight. A wireless mast on top of a hill will come into view ahead, then, in line with it, you should see a gate at the far corner of the field. The path heads straight for this.The stones and their outlier should be seen poking out of the grass to your right very near the path about, I’d say, 120m before you get to the gate. Do not be tempted to say ‘aw, dinky! sweeeet!’ They are the height they are because they have sunk into the peat. What you see are just the stones tops. I have read a record of a stone row to the south which has sunk into the peat and vanished completely. This four poster is well on the way. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t initially a good five or six feet high. CAUTION: Be very careful when exploring the surrounds to the stones, or, indeed, anywhere away from the path as there are hidden drainage gullies over the entire area, which, I promise, could be ankle breakers. One nearly got me. Nonetheless, enjoy this peaceful place...lovely on a sunny evening. I saw several deer while there. I had a gingerly look to see if the drainage works had revealed any of the sunken stone row without success, and circumstances willing, will certainly return. Those visiting in, say, three hundred years may well find nothing.

Shamefaced erratum: I have replaced all my fieldnotes for this site as I’ve belatedly realised that I’ve mistaken it for another visited further up the coast. Memo to self: check map references. Right, try again.... I drove down the minor road to the beach, Broadsea Bay – there’s only one gate to open and shut – and parked near the base of the fort, access to which on the seaward side is unfenced. I cast my eyes upward.. how to climb up there? There is a conical outlier on the forts northeast side, which looked to have a path up that was clamberable. This soon petered out though, so I had to zigzag upwards, with a bit of heaving and pulling on bracken and heather. Yes, it was steep. The gradient directly beneath the fort looked even steeper. After cresting the outlier the downslope on its landward side and the final climb up to the fort weren’t too bad. As I attained the latter two curlew flew off, calling. They were not the only occupants. There were cattle. Fortunately these were docile and without calves, and vacated the place for pasture inland. What a fine place. The top is of some size and almost bowling green flat, and the seaward side looks like it has been considerably landscaped by the forts builders – it has been squared off. The fort’s northern side ends in a drop which, though not sheer, is pretty intimidating. The only raised earthworks on the site were where this northern side of the promotory met the coastline proper, where there are three pronounced but fairly short raised banks with two ditches between, on a roughly NE/SW axis, with what I believe was the entrance to the fort adjacent to the latter. Access to this entrance could have been both by a pretty level path from inland or by a narrow valley which curves clockwise down to sea level and the beach beyond. This looked like it had been considerably landscaped. The entire site on a large scale map would, in a way, look like an elongated comma, the point of which being the approach from the beach. To the south of the entrance commenced a single flat terrace or incision into the hillside which curved round on a level contour about six feet below the site till it ended abruptly on the fort’s seaward side. From the beach it looks like a notch on the southern side of the fort’s skyline silhouette. The path along the incision is clear, about ten feet wide, with dense gorse on its steep, downhill side. Careful, though, that you don’t encounter a tardy cow or two coming round the corner like I did. It was on this path that I found something that made me connect with those that had built and lived here.. stock activity had exposed an distict occupation layer of fine material. I stopped and communed. There was no stone of any description on the site at all, as far as could be seen. All earthworks were just that, earth. Any additional defence would have been probably wooden pallisade. I descended the curved valley from the entrance to find my way blocked at the road by a barbed wire fence, which I climbed, not realising it was open ended at the beach, where I then saw that there was a cattle track climbing it seemed to the fort’s summit from by the cattle grid. I wouldn’t have wanted to meet its users en route though. Stand on the great beach at low tide, look south towards Killantringan Bay with its dun and Black Head beyond. A fine place. Look up at the imposing fort with that intiguing conical outlier – is that really all natural? Very well worth a visit.. but if you want majestic settings viewed from seaward still a poor second to Dunman.. Dunman’s beyond compare on this coast.

I had set myself a target for my holiday of a minimum of three site visits per day. On my first day, having only done two – the forts at Corsewall and Portobello – on returning at dusk to my campsite, the excellent North Rhinns Camping near Leswalt, my eyes lighted on this nearby site on the map. The stone looked to be near the road, and I read Broch’s notes. ‘Dammit, it’s going to be dark but there’s a full moon..I’ll give it a go and get my third’. I parked up the side road by the gate, a short distance after the road left that for Portpatrick. In the field I saw some poles for electric cables in the gloaming, then, by the nearest, a smallish dark lump. It didn’t move. Not a cow...or bull. Could it be...? Broch had done well to keep that pole and its pals out of his shots, as it is only about ten feet or so from the stone. I got my camera and hopped over the gate, got to the stone and got some flash shots with my camera and smartphone. The full moon was rising and casting some atmospheric shadows. The stone’s faring well enough..packing stones exposed by livestock wear, but it’s stocky sturdy and still well set. After ten minutes I heard a farm dog bark, not excitedly but.. mission accomplished, time to go. Pat. You’ve got to pat. See you again in daylight.. Number three.

Reiterating Broch, if you don’t fancy making the descent from the escarpment behind, a visit to this site is tide dependent. On the evening I visited the tide only receded sufficiently as light was fading. The main problem is at the rocky outcrop near the bottom of the steps from the car park. Watch your footing and keep your hands free as the seaweed and boulders are rather slippery. I couldn’t find the site on my visit last year, and I wouldn’t say it was late when I did so this time..except I saw a bat. Yes, little of the place remains, but it’s still worthwhile, not least because of the very fine beach, which, out of season, in the evening you’ll like as not have to yourself, and also the view from the other car park up at the lighthouse, where I’ve now come a couple of times to watch the sun go down over the Irish Sea. My site visit was truncated by the fast approaching darkness and also the arrival of a couple of cars in the car park and my ungrounded fear that their occupants may have had designs on mine. Memo to self: must return in broad daylight next time – tide willing. If you like to combine your hobby with chilling on a beach look no further

Before setting out on my explorations of Galloway sites in 2015 this was a site that I had decided I would definitely visit for no better reason than that I liked the name. Do not rely on the position indicated on the OS map – I think it is slightly nearer the ‘9’ numeral shown. This was the last site visited on a day spent exploring some superb lesser known sites in the South Rhins, and was the only one featured on TMA. This is being corrected. Parking at dusk in an informal parking area above the shore of Terally Bay I walked up and down the verge of the A716 looking at the skyline of the raised field on the landward side of the road and, after a few minutes, ‘aha!’ I spotted the top of the stone against the fading light. Access to the field, which had been freshly shorn of its corn, was via an ungated entrance, on the south side of which was a very distinctive gorse covered mound, of which more shortly. I made my way along the field edge to the stone, which is about four feet high, roughly rectangular, and compared to all the other stones I visited, unusually thin, at its top being about six inches thick, rather reminiscent of a tombstone. As the last rays of the sunset waned I carried on photographing using flash. It hadn’t images here, deserved to.. and would. I gave a pat and made to go, and then a thought struck me: was its orientation significant, a pointer? Aligning my eyes at either end of its top in turn I found that one pointed to the summit of Inchmulloch Hill to the southwest, while the other seemed to point to the highest point of the Mull of Sinniness on the other side of Luce Bay. Coincidence? Returning eventually to the field entrance in the gloaming I couldn’t help investigating that gorsey mound.. I groped my scratchy way to its summit. A perfect cone. Animal disturbance revealed that it seemed not to be composed of field clearance material but finer stuff. A cairn, I’ll be bound. A stream flows gently by the base of its southerly side to meet the shores of beautiful Luce Bay. A fine place for a final rest. A migrating corncrake flew over, calling in the dark. I descended carefully, walked back to the car as a golden near full moon rose over Whithorn and the water and drove off slowly to my campsite. It had been a good day.

It is a wonder that this stone has not toppled, and I would be very surprised if it has not done so within the next ten years. Parking on the verge a short distance along the minor road that leads to Low Clanyard after it leaves the A716, adjacent to a solitary static caravan to the rear of the corner house I found a broad holloway – perhaps indicative of a former sizeable human presence – with a disused farm track in its middle that climbed up onto the pastureland that overlooks Luce Bay, and the stone came into view on ascent as the holloway opened out at its crest. Although the stone, some five feet in height, looked in good order as I approached, the side view of it told a different story, as it is leaning southward at an angle of approximately sixty degrees, and I am totally convinced that but for some chocking stones on that southward side it would have gone already. The culprits are undoubtedly cattle, as its packing stones are exposed and its corners blackened by the grease from their rubbing. The stone is top heavy and seems to be tapering to a point at its lower end, and I doubt if that is now embedded by more than a foot. I gave it a gentle pat, but fear its standing years are very nearly over.

Like CARL, I failed to find this despite a prolonged search. I do wonder if the position indicated on the OS map is entirely accurate, as subsequently I found one or two instances where this seemed to be the case, eg Low Curghie. What I did find, though, were four very large stones set vertically at regular intervals set into the wall of the field below that where the wind turbines are. They seemed very out of place compared to all the other stonework, and I wonder if they were there as a consequence of a site being tidied away. I did not think that they included a recent addition to their number. They were not visible from the minor road that leads to Whirlpool, being on the far side of the first brow, but should be visible with binoculars from the road that leads to Clachanmore and Ardwell. I regret not having a look in the top ‘turbine’ field, but the increasing interest of cattle made me decide it was best to withdraw. I hope to have another crack next year..my only failure to find a site out of the thirty or so visited in western Galloway in October 2015. Hi ho..