fitzcoraldo

The first stop on a sunday odessy for me and the bairn Timmo.
The sheep in these fields are nutters, they run at you! maybe it’s because they’re lambing or maybe its because they’re Yorkshire Fighting Sheep I dunno but it freaked me and the lad.
Just a short walk to the stones and the view is lovely, Robin Hood’s Bay is framed by the surrounding moors and big fat sky.
The ambience is built upon by the cries of a pair of curlew who judging by their noise must have a nest near-by.
The stones are lovely, all three of them, three different characters. There must have been more, there is a plentiful supply of local stone and some big fellas have been tucked into the local walls. For me, these three will do, a very happy trio.
There is possibly a number of cupmarks on the most westerly stone on the outer face.
Yeh a lovely place.

After Willy Howe I found Ba’l Hill a bit of a let-down. It was fairly small compared to Willy and Duggleby. We have mounds this size on the North York Moors.
I couldn’t really see it’s place in the landscape.
Coolest of names, but left me confused.

Me and Tim (my indentured dodman) visited Willy Howe on the way back from Rudston on a lovely sunday afternoon. Tim was greatly amused by the name.
You can’t miss it in the chalk, wold landscape, the thought crossed my mind that the landscape was very feminine with it’s broad rollings and undulations.
If this is the landscape of the goddess then she’s a big lass.
The trees on its flanks were just coming into bud and there was a lovely show of daffs on one side. Spring had sprung on Willy Howe, a very sexy place.

The cave is situated half way up a quarry wall in a small limestone quarry about 50 yards from the ford of the Hodge Beck. The muddy path proves the site is visited but this does not detract from the general ambience. The cave is about 18 foot up from the quarry floor but is an easy climb me and my five year old lad, Timmo managed it with ease. Once you have crawled into the cave (torch required) the roof rises gradually and the cave splits in two.
We were reluctant to go past this point, but the there appears to be lots of cave futher in.
The nearby Hodge Beck is worth exploring as is the most excellent St Gregors Minster which is probably the most perfect church I have ever seen and is only a five minute walk from the cave.
Kirkdale is beautiful and will not fail to impress you.

Described in the 18th century as “the Silbury of the North”. This beautiful mother hill sits in the middle of Moorsholm moor a few hundred yards away from the busy A171. As its name suggests the hill was dedicated to Freya and was a focal point for ancient man. The hill is surrounded by groups of barrows and assorted earthworks. The summit bears the scars of two hundred years of treasure hunters seeking freyas hoard.
I can remember a few years ago when a unknown goup erected a number of brightly coloured flags on the summit, i’m sure the mother would approve.

The site has lovely views over the moors and me and tim (dodman apprentice) had a nice post-christmas picnic between the high and low stones on a nice flat outcrop
The whole complex is a bit of a bombsite really.
Trying to inturpret this site is nigh on impossible. Possible stone rows, possible four poster and circle. I don’t think we’ll ever know. The tallest remaining stone is constantly under attack from arseholes jamming coins into the weathered cracks with the result of accelerating the erosion. The whole site is becoming terribly eroded by vehicles accessing the moor and ?the robbing of stone

Big beautiful steam pudding shaped Silbury wearing a frosting of snow. On a cold November day we stood in awe of this mighty mound. The slushy sounds of the traffic povided a soundtrack to our wondering. Why the fuck........

Me and Carolyn and a cold windy day, wound our way up the footpath to the Longbarrow with the glorious Silbury always over our shoulders.
When we arrived we had the place to ourselves. Wow beautiful! Supprisingly enough it wasn’t cold inside, the whole place gave off an air of calm warmth.
We then witnessed a snow storm gradually make its way from the downs, across Silbury and up to us, coating the world in a powdery hail. We decended from the hill into a different landscape from the one we accended from. Lovely, magical.

After 6 hours of driving we finally approached Avebury, it was early evening and the road was heavy with traffic, both Mrs Fitz and myself were feeling a little jaded.
FUCKIN’ HELL! The Swindon Stone! It just leapt out of the twilight, BANG.... re-energised ...here we go!
All excited we parked up at the pub (rooms pre-booked 2 nights), got our stuff up to the room (The Keiler Room no less), looked out of the window, BANG... The Cove staring back at me..what a view. We yomped out into the dark and started greeting the stoney chaps. Talk about a rush!
The next morning up early full breakfast back to the chaps, for a brief stroll. Mrs Fitz is no great megalithomaniac so she humours me and I don’t push it. Off we go to Devizes (Mrs Fitz checks the market and I mooch around the lovely museum) after this comes Stonehenge (ruined by the almost unavoidable heritage industry, but what can you do? you gotta keep the numpties from wrecking the place, I just find it all very sad, a bit like a trip to the zoo..no joy) ) Marlborough (not impressed), West Kennett (very impressed) and Silbury..Yow!( these are discussed elesewhere).
Back in Avebury. The place has had a dusting of snow and is lovely and frosted. Mrs Fitz chills and I set off with Burl’s Pocket Guide to show me the way. What a place, hardly anyone there, it is just so fuckin organic, stones and village together weaving in and out of each other. The village has prevented the circle becoming another site in a cage (stonehenge).
Following Burl’s root I traipse round the stoney chaps, stopping to chat here and there and just picking up the energy vibe until i reach a point in the SE sector when I feel like..DING .. fully charged. I then hit the West Kennett Avenue. I almost flew down the thing, I was buzzing so much, chatting like a monkey to the stoney chaps and just off in a world of my own, feeling like a lord’s bastard...pure bliss mateys.

Lovely place for some birthday respite. Five hours of driving on a lovely day. Hi to the pilgrim we interrupted.
lovely gnarled stones. They must have had a great old time selecting them. my kind of stones. The breeze in the trees hinting at something and not quite understood. The Kingstone leaning to catch the whispering breeze.Oh what a place. The vibe was Northern. I will return. Stones with holes, you can’t beat ‘em. A hole in a stone is a window, someone knew this, we know it too.

Lovely walk up, some wind though!blowing a hoolie.
Me and tess hiked up through the bleak rubble strewn moor. then a meadow full of lovely friendly sheep and a beautiful circle. Tess dropped into a Travis Bickle conversation with one black dog-like-sheep.
Top circle, big landscape, perfect end- of- the- day circle.
Love and Life

Great favourite of mine. As me and Tess climbed the embankment and dropped into the bowl Tess gave out a “wow, didn’t expect this!”
Sums it up really.
Plans afoot to dynamite the christian pastiche into rubble, any takers?
Love and Life

Lovely little site. Me and tess approached from the road when all of a sudden we hears a screech and up fly two bloody big birds of prey /buzzards.....wow.Hard to believe that this is not a field clearance, its just too messy. If this site is insitu it must have been layed out by the dodgy cowboy dodman brother of Long Megs architect. Sounds like my kind of drude.
love and Life

Me and Tess on a megalithic odessy, found our way up to the moor and there they were. A sweet little circle perfectly formed, lovely moorland and a screaming shepherd, (I thought they whistled and ting, this dude was screaming at his dog, then the sheep all trooped down in a Mackenzie Thorpe stylee. Spent fireworks littered the site must’ve been a good party but they could have picked their shit up. Sweet circle.

Me and Tess driving over to Danby pass the wonderful Mother Mound, Freebrough Hill (Freyas Hill) once called the Silbury of the North.
Down into Danby then up to Ainthorpe, park-up and hike up to the Rigg. Elgee described the northern end of the Rigg as a Beaker burial ground, he wasn’t wrong, your tripping over cairns. As we moved through, the mists came down which was exactly what the scene called for. From the cairn field we moved onto a well defined cairn circle with a lovely big standing stone on the edge. Then onto the cross dykes and a large round barrow with a  lovely inscribed boulder perched on top stating the date of excavation and where the artifacts may be viewed (Whitby museum). Then we got a bit lost and decided to test our compass skills in the mist, to our suprise everything worked and we found a large hut circle exactly where we thought it would be. Bit more mooching then we dropped down into the wonderfully named Little Fryup Dale and the clement weather.
Down to Danby castle which has morphed from a ruined castle to a farmhouse and back to a castle (top abode). Further down the road is the Duck Bridge an 500 year old packhorse bridge. We sat under the bridge like a couple of trolls and ate our lunch listening to the voices eminating from the fast flowing water of the Esk.
All in all a top day, top company, top sites.

love Fitz

This lovely spot is the first place I ever visited to seek out rock art. I was inspired to do so after attending a conference where Stan Beckinsall was the main speaker. As mention previously the site runs across and around a golf course and has views across the ancient landscape of the Till valley. On the far side of Dod Law is a cave that I only saw as I was leaving so I can’t tell you whats there. Well worth a visit, good carvings in a beautiful landscape.

Gotta agree with Marky mark the setting has it , the fells the dales.
It gripped me in a willie the shake stylee, “this other eden demi- paradise.... this precious stone set in the silver sea”, that whole speech filled my brain, willie always has the right way of putting things. my kids had a sheep shit fight.....perfect .

Summer 1996 midsummers eve. I was staying in a campsite just below Moor Divock when I decided to drag my long suffering daughter “up the hill to see the stones”, she usually dreads “dad and his stone expeditions”, “aw dad not more stones, they’re sooo boring”. Anyway on the promise that I’d take her to the camp disco that night we yomped up the hill.
It was a beautiful evening when we arrived at the stones and in the far of distance we could see a procession of folk winding their way up the hillside from Pooley Bridge.
We were witnessing something special, a procession to the stones.
It was no formal affair just a rag taggle group of about thirty heads, kids in tow, party packs in hands, making their way up the winding paths to the stones.I couldn’t help feeling I was witnessing a scene that was timeless. No amount of pleading with my daughter could persuade her to stay for the arrival of the party- goers, a deal’s a deal and we had a disco to attend so we split. It was enough for me though just to witness the procession and for 1 hour be transported back to my neolithic ancestry.

Roughting Linn means “bellowing like a bull” and this site truely bellows at you but you must get there soon as it is fast dissappearing.
The site itself is a vast block of sandstone covered in carvings, if the weather is hot take some water to pour on the carvings, this will bring them out.
I have visited the site over a number of years and seen the not so gradual decay and erosion of the carvings. Don’t be put of by this though, there is still enough there to make this probably the most important rock art site in England.
If you do go , please do not walk on the rock, I have placed a hex on any vandals who desecrate the site with their daisy roots so be aware pilgrim !

Long Meg has the lot, hard to find unless you come from the right direction, still in the working landscape, (thankfully) no English Heritage here. A beautiful big circle with Long Meg watching over her daughters.

Long Meg bears the signature of her creators, a pair of concentric circles carved on her side, which she wears proudly. Go seek her out, she will not disappoint you.

Got to be one of the most evocative and beautiful areas of the world.
travel south down the devils causeway passing many sites within a small area and arrive at old bewick. Bewick means bee farm
and last time I was there i saw a wild bees nest just sitting on a tree,
touching the past or what ?
Climb the hill and step into prehistory.
The landscape is rich in the prehistoric landmarks, but Old Bewick is more than that, you can see the hands of the ancients in the living rocks.
Whats there ? A reinstated Bronze age burial, a ritual complex / hillfort
The mindblower though is the most beautiful set of carvings you could ever want to see, concentric circles cups, channels, the full bifta.
All set in the mostest abience, you’ll not want to leave.
Old Bewick, it’s a gasser.