Kammer

Visited 16th July 2003: For a bit of lunchtime exercise I went to see if I could find the crop marks to the north of Cerrig Llwydion, the remains of a possible henge (SN624838). I had it on good authority that they were visible from the train embankment, but managed to spot nothing. As a consolation prize I went to see the westerly of the two standing stones (SN62508354).

Visited 13th July 2003: We cheated to get to this one, driving up the forestry tracks from further down the valley (not recommended). The sensible way to reach this stone would be on foot from the peak of Pumlumon. Carreg Wen is on the edge of the forestry plantation to the east of Pumlumon, close to the source of the River Severn. At 610 metres above sea level it’s the highest stone in the area. Although very close to the edge of the forest, the stone is surrounded on three sides by trees like some sort of hidden woodland cul-de-sac.

I had both the boys with me, and the weather was scorching. As soon as we arrived, killer flies attacked, so we kept the pace up. The intense sunshine made it hard to look at the stone, because it’s made of a brilliant quartz. Near the stone was the remains of a camp fire, and at the foot of the stone I found entwined orange and purple ribbons (non-biodegradable) so I knew quite early on that the spot isn’t as obscure as it feels. After spending quite a while taking it all in I spotted naturally formed recesses in the stone that had been used to deposit coins. Most of these had small quartz stones placed in them to block them up.

The flies and heat got to us all in the end, and we left in quite a hurry. I was genuinely surprised to find such a beautiful megalith here. On local standards, it’s quite a big’n. Needless to say I was two ribbons, and several copper coins wealthier by the time we left (lucky me!).

The Mynydd March stone, along with it’s neighbours Buwch a’r Llo, has the easiest access of any standing stone in north Ceredigion. It’s right next to the road, and there’s no boundary fence.

The stone has two distinctive cracks running diagonal across it, presumably caused by weathering. From some angles it looks very strange, like some sort of a half peeled megalithic fruit. Of the three stones on the verge of the road, Mynydd March is the smallest and the easiest to miss as you drive past.

Visited 21st June 2003: This was the successful last megalithic visit of our Solstice. I only persuaded Louise to let me look for this stone by promising her a cup of tea in bed the following morning! Needless to say, everyone else stayed in the car while a yomped across the field to the stone.

By this time my hay fever was really kicking in, and it was getting tricky to focus my eyes, let alone the camera. This little stone was worth a bit of suffering for though. Despite it’s relatively small size compared to the Four Stones it’s very reminiscent of them. I wonder whether Hindwell Stone looked something like this when it was standing.

Visited 21st June 2003: My first visit to the Four Stones left me under-impressed. I got the feeling that the stones were standing in isolation from their surroundings.

Second time round it all felt like it made a bit more sense (whatever that means). I took greater care to look at the hills framing the plateau where the Four Stones stand, and spotted a distinctive distant hill that is obscured by a large tree near the stones (I think this is Burfa Camp).

I also found the three cupmarks that I’d failed to look for on my first visit.

Visited 21st June 2003: After the Solstice sunrise at Stanton Drew and a big breakfast at Little Chef, we headed out to find Stoney Littleton. Initially we tried approaching from the direction of Wellow, but we soon realised that there was nothing resembling a car park to the north east o the site. It’s worth noting that there’s no signposting to Stoney Littleton from the direction of Wellow.

We found the tiny lane from Wellow to the Stoney Littleton car park, and on the way got some exciting glimpses of the long barrow from the road. We parking up, crossed the picturesque little stream, and headed off up the hill. The sun was out, and after our greasy breakfast, spirits were high. The moment where we suddenly reached the barrow (as described by those who came before us) was great. Once we were over the last stile, William shot off along the length of the barrow and we all explored. Apart from half a plastic bottle full of rotting flowers (an offering?) the site looked beautiful in the sunshine, with patches of flowering clover sprinkled around it.

William had his torch, and he headed straight into the chamber. At first Lou and I took it in turns to look after Alfie while the other one went inside, but in the end I gave up and I took Alfie in with me. He seemed to enjoy it, crawling around getting nice and dirty. What a great place for kids! Lou speculated that the different shapes of the chamber might represent different parts of the female anatomy. The first part is the vagina, and where the passage becomes narrow it’s the cervix. The tallest part of the passage, where I could just about stand up, is the womb. What a special place this is!

Visited 21st June: After our early start to observe the Solstice, and visiting the well known Stanton Drew sites, we were all ready for breakfast. Before we left the area I insisted on seeing Hauteville’s Quoit, so the others stayed in the car while I went to the farm (called Quoit Farm) to ask about the stone.

As soon as I went through the farmyard gate, a sheep dog starting barking at me from the direction of the farmhouse. Luckily there was a woman hanging up washing in the garden, so I didn’t have to get past the dog to knock on the farmhouse door. She was very friendly, and gave me directions to the stone, warning me that there wasn’t much to see.

The stone lies to the east of the farm buildings, and there certainly isn’t much to see. Where Hauteville’s Quoit once stood, there’s now only a small amount of stone visible above the soil. It’s hard to imagine this insignificant piece of rock as a large standing stone. It sits in the shadow of a tree, almost part of the hedgerow. Surely it’s been chipped away at over the years for building material. If not, there must be a lot of stone under the ground.

Despite its size, I’m glad I made the effort to see it. With so little left to look at, you’ll need to use a lot of imagination (and possibly take some dog biscuits) if you visit Hauteville’s Quoit.

Visited 21st June 2003: As our Solstice morning progressed I dragged everyone up to see the Cove, promising William that we’d have breakfast afterwards (I neglected to mention Hautevilles Quoit at this stage).

I’ve got to disagree with Ocifant’s impression of the Cove. I think there is something special about these stones, and it’s made all the more remarkable by the fact they’re in a pub garden. Obviously the garden was deserted when we visited, so it was relatively quiet, but I’ve been there before when it was crowded and there was still a zing to the place then. On this occasion our visit was brief because we were all hungry and tired, but we’ll be back as soon as possible (during opening hours).

These megaliths must have contributed to the building of the church on it’s current site, between them and the South West Circle. Their part in the wedding legend also suggests that they have been considered as important elements in Stanton Drew group for a considerable time. The fact that’s they’ve ended up in the garden of a pub is perhaps not wholly inappropriate, because in this way they remain part of the day to day life of the village in a way that the other megaliths don’t.

Visited 21st June 2003: We’ve been to Stanton Drew a few times before, but this was my first visit to the South West Circle. We were all a bit tired after watching the Solstice sunrise, but I persuaded Lou and William that it was worth seeing how close we could get to this circle.

We walked from the Great Circle, back into the village, then headed out of the village again on the public footpath that I’d seen on the map (the map that I’d cunningly left in the car). When we got to the right sort of place I realised that there was good access from the path into the field where the circle lies, through a wooden kissing gate. It all looked very much as if we were allowed to be there, which I gather didn’t used to be the case.

The circle looks a bit shabby compared to it’s neighbours. All the stones are fallen, and the grass around the was either under-grazed or badly cut. Hardly surprising given the obscurity of this circle in comparison to the others. There were signs that other people had been there already that morning (offerings on the stones), but on the whole it looks like not many people visit this place. The quiet was pleasing, but we were all so tired and hungry that breakfast and a cup of coffee lured us away.

Visited 21st June 2003: Having spent a short hot night in central Bristol we drove to Stanton Drew in the early hours, with William tired and bemused in the back of the car (Alfie is used to waking up at silly times in the morning). We nearly didn’t make it, because the Police had closed the A37 because of a serious motorbike crash.

We got to the stones just as a small group of Druids arrived (presumably the lazy ones who couldn’t get up on time). We crossed the Great Circle behind the tardy Druids joined a small group of their pals, standing in the middle of the North East Circle. The Druids started invoking the Sun, and I took the opportunity to explain to William what a Druid is (“you know how Grandma goes to church...“). These were noisy Druids (are they all like that?) so we sidled away and found a quiet spot next to one of the avenue stones. From here we watched the dawn, with a scattering of other people (maybe thirty) around us doing the same.

The sky was a beautiful wash of colours for a while, with purple and pink and blue and orange shades mixing together. Then it slowly brightened, becoming more bland and less beautiful. The Druids seemed a bit restless, and said a few more things to encourage the sun to rise. This must have worked, because it did. Through the trees to the west it lit us up, and lit the stones up. The freshness of the morning was suddenly right in our faces, and there were ripples of content from everyone there.

After a while people began dispersing. The Druids gathered under a nearby tree and made even more noise. Louise distributed chocolate and we wondered around the stones. This was our first celebration of the Summer Solstice for 5 years, and it was well worth the effort. I don’t think we’ll miss it again in a hurry.

Visited 20th June 2003: I found the stone more tricky to find than I’d expected. From the A40 it was shielded by trees, and some patchy map reading on my part meant we over-shot the turning. There’s parking next to the old training camp reception building (a strange 1960s construction) and from here you can hop over the service road to the stone. There were a couple of army vehicles way off at the end of the avenue, behind a typical MOD fence, but it does look like this camp is closed.

The Growing Stone (aka the Cwrt y Gollen Monolith) is surrounded by cobbles, and the remains of a wooden rail are still partially intact on one side of it. Now it looks a bit shabby, but I’d imagine the MOD were very pleased with it when the work was done (nice and orderly). In the Modern Antiquarian book Julian describes removing a rusty sign from the stone, and I could make out the place where this used to be fixed.

The monolith is made from a very large piece of sandstone (apparently 4.17 metres high) and has the strangest strata running along it’s length. You can see why people thought it had popped out of the ground. As with Gwernvale, the A40 intrudes on the site, but at least the trees give it some degree of separation from the traffic.