The Eternal

03/10/09 The Siren Call.

Autumn truly arrived to the fell country on a day that saw me wandering alone amongst the Great Langdale stone axe factories. What lay in store should have been obvious when I was halted in my tracks by the wind, a fiendish rushing of air that nearly flattened me, raging down Mickleden, as if it was trying its best to pick up the ancient cairns dotted around and fling them as far as Ambleside. What followed next can only be described as taking an outdoor power shower. It was hard to see through the deluge, and, with the wind, it was painful to any exposed flesh. Well, the forecast had said to expect gusts of 85mph.

My main objective was an exploration of the Martcrag Moor site. At the head of Mickleden, by the old sheepfold, I headed up the Stake Pass track, the beck roaring down on my right. Some of it was roaring down anyway, with the exception of the waterfalls, which were being blown vertically upwards.

With some relief I managed to cross the beck at the top, and was soon on the top of Martcrag Moor, taking welcome shelter behind the rough grey rocks that mark the highest part. By now shafts of sunlight were stabbing into the valley from a tempestuous sky, storm-wracked and spectacular. Would the axe-makers have turned out in these conditions, I wondered.

Between Martcrag Moor and Pike of Stickle there is a flat col, known for its peaty, boggy ground. Erosion repair was under way, the workers absent, with sheep fleeces being laid as a base, before compressed gravel was laid on top, in order to prevent the repaired track from sinking. An ancient practice, apparently. It is around this spot that I had found flakes from axe production before, exposed where the peat had eroded away. They were there again, more being exposed by the increased erosion. There is a certain excitement for me in seeing the clean stone, as if it had been worked last week, with the purcushion marks clearly visible. The outer stone is a whiteish colour, but inside it is a wonderful blue-green. No doubt other evidence of working floors exists beneath the carpet of peat, but I can’t see any excavations taking place in the forseeable future. Despite a good search, I couldn’t find any other sites.

I went up onto Pike of Stickle, with the wind rushing up its precipitous slopes, before going down to the top of its huge axe factory scree. This is a very impressive place, with a humongous amount of stone. Pity most of it has headed valley way.

Not for me the precarious descent today. I was heading for the Thorn Crag site, taking in the Loft Crag site en-route. It was still a tad breezy, the difficulty not being finding the prehistoric evidence, but keeping on my feet. Loft Crag has stone chippings emerging from the peat on its eroded sections, but the peat is a much shallower deposit hereabouts. The clean chips are easy to spot, with very sharp edges. It’s hard to believe what your eyes see. Prehistoric “finds” are usually to be found in museums, not to be found at random on a days wanderings.

A couple of hundred yards away, over at the Thorn Crag site, I inspected the stony depressions that mark the quarry. Here again is evidence of stone-working, with flakes, and larger pieces, broken to expose the beautiful blue-green core, surrounded by a shell of white or terracotta. A lot of the debris lie over the edge, down in the upper reaches of the aptly named Dungeon Ghyll. As an aside, “Ghyll” is a Victorian affectation for the Norse word “Gill”. Both spellings can be found on maps of the area. I made a note to go down into the gill on another day, and take a look at the spoil.

I hadn’t met another soul, which was hardly surprising, as the saying goes that only mad dogs and TMA-ers go out in the morning storm. I finished the day with an ascent of Harrison Stickle, just for the view, as there were one or two sunny spells appearing, and the wind had reduced to a mere gale. Down by Stickle Tarn I went, where evidence of temporary occupation and working by the stone axe makers has been found, followed by a descent to the valley beside Mill Gill, a truly spectacular waterfall today, foaming white the whole length of its dash to the dale.

I had been a rewarding day, what with the battle with the elements, the stupendous mountain scenery, and last but not least by the site of something tangible from the past: a link with the industry of our Neolithic ancestors, the by-product of their labours.

Visite 09/07/09. Flamin’ Hell, this is a big, impressive site, with banks and ditches of almost Avebury proportions. Obviously it’s been tamed, and spruced-up a tad, with a modern, slightly-pisses-me-off entrance. But, did I want an overgrown site, which was hard to see and interpret, and an entrance which was overgrown and hard to find? Yes, and no. Can’t have both, can I? So, it’s the modern take, and the huge, cleared centre.
It’s definitely easy to appreciate how massive this place is, and the info boards are full of info, as you’d expect, even directing you to the archaeologist who dug the site, which is helpful, ‘cos so many lay-people who visit the lesser-known sites don’t always know where to find more knowledge.
The area is massive, once housing up to 1,000 people, and it just has to be seen to be believed. The views from the bank are superb, south across the flatlands of Hampshire, and with the various hills in other directions. It’s a very quiet spot, and the wind rustles gently through the surrounding trees. On my visit I had the place to myself, and it was one of the most peaceful places I have ever been, with an atmosphere reeking of the past.

Visited on 06/07/09.
It’s in a lovely setting, this Iron Age hillfort, on the edge of a rolling down, and now occupied by a farm. It’s now a series of ploughed-out banks and ditches, barely discernible in the field, and hardly worth a visit, unless you’re passing. In fact, you wouldn’t know it was there if it wasn’t for the fact it’s marked on the O.S. map. I can’t see many photos of this site being posted. I didn’t bother taking any. Go to the Bell Inn at nearby Wylye instead.

“Small hillfort levelled by ploughing. From the excavation of 1959-64:- a pedestal base and bead rim sherds from the lower silt of the ditch and pre-camp Iron Age ‘A’ occupation material. A collection of brooches and a ring found in 1863 plus an iron arrowhead are in Salisbury Museum. A watching brief during 2003 produced no information or features.” according to Wiltshire and Swindon Sites and Monument Record Information website. Sceduled Monument AM449.

Visited on 08/07/09. This is Burl’s “the last round barrow”, as is the caption of the photo in his “The Stonehenge People”. It is Scheduled Monument, number SM10371.
It is pretty much ignored, except, perhaps, by the occasional interested people passing by in a car. It lies just east of Stonehenge, and most people will be seen with their backs to it, staring at the enigmatic sarsens of that great circle.
I wandered over, as cloud shadows chased across the landscape, the sound of the traffic close by. I have never seen anyone approach it, and I had it to myself. There is an impressive ditch with berm, and a patch on the SE side has been eroded away, probably by rabbits. It is quite an impressive barrow.
The ubiquitous Hoare dug here, discovering, beneath an upturned urn, bone tweezers and a cremation, as well as bluestone fragments.
Next time you manage to dodge the obscene admission fee, and sneak into Stonehenge over a distant fence, walk across to our old friend, Amesbury 11, and keep it company for a while, as it’s a lonely old soul.

What a lovely collection of round barrows, and a shame about the A4 spoiling the peace, and separating them. They are by The Ridgeway, which leads you up the hill to more tranquil surroundings, and the promise of a journey through history. The hairy old mounds, with a head of long grass, speak of the past, and I wonder about the scenes in the days when these monuments were being constructed. The Sanctuary is their neighbour, and leads the eye to nearby Avebury, and Silbury Hill, to which these sites are inexorably linked.

Bleasedale Circle is a wonderful place, surrounded by trees, through which the wind sighs or howls. Sometimes, well, quite a lot, it rains. It is Lancashire after all.
The peace within is complete. Few people visit, and the trees will be a bit overbearing for some, but for me it works well, and adds to the sense of the past. True, it’d be good to see the surrounding fells of the Trough of Bowland, and to look towards the Fylde coast, but the modern wooden markers of their predecessors, along the edge of the well preserved ditch, along with the info board all help to reconstruct the site in the Modern Antiquarian mind.
If in Preston, pop into the Harris Museum to view the beaker with cremation that was found here, along with a reconstruction of the site.

I can’t believe I haven’t posted owt about (like the rhyme?) one of the grestest of our chambered tombs. I’m having a blitz on sites I’ve not posted fieldnotes about, me.
Here goes. A few years ago we took our chances and crossed the A4 without being killed by some speed-freak with lowered suspension, wide tyres, and a big phallic exhaust. I suppose it makes them feel a little less inadequate. I’m turning into my dad.
Anyway, our ancestors, who built WKLB had other things to worry about, like missing thigh bones, skulls, and other body bits. What a memorial to a collective of people. It makes you think about how graves and grave markers have developed over the milennia, yet the basics have remained the same: stone. Did the WKLB people have any form of “writing”, and is the absence of markings on the sarsens proof of no “writing”? I know of the carvings on the Stonehenge sarsens, but wouldn’t you think that such a huge monument as WKLB would have had some form of “words”, symbolic or otherwise? Or was the memory of people in the form of ancestral stories, passed down through the generations? Perhaps telly and stuff has got in the way of our modern communication.
It’s an awe-inspiring site, with big stones, and an even bigger earthen mound, and great views. It’s just below a ridge, so where was it supposed to be seen from?
Marvellous.

A few years ago I stood on top of Silbury Hill, and was absolutely gobsmacked by the sheer effort required to raise this behemoth. Why? Deep thought fails to bring an answer. With all the comforts and ease of a modern day life I bet we couldn’t be arsed to do anything remotely as big with the tools they had to hand. Their life would be hard work without the hassle of this monumental construction.
To get into the mind of these people is impossible, and beyond the realms of archaeologists, who can, like us, just theorise.
Looking from The Sanctuary, on 07/07/09, I could see the downs rolling across the landscape, and there, in the middle of it all, was a flat-topped mini-down, dear old Silbury Hill. It didn’t look at all drawfed by the surrounding landscape, truly a tribute to her architects, for she always seems a she to me. Bless ‘er.

My latest visit (07/07/09), and the Natioinal Trust warden was finishing off strimming the grass, or rather the latest of many showers finished it for her, and sent her scuttling back to the Land Rover. I waited for the rain to stop, and the warm sun to return, and entered the sacred site, ankle-deep in strimmings (is there such a word?). They almost obscured the ugly concrete markers, which isn’t a bad thing. The number of outstanding sites visible from The Sanctuary is more than you could shake a big stick at, and sites that would be on any anorak’s ticklist: East Kennett long barrow, West Kennett long barrow, Seorfon round barrows, The Ridgeway, Silbury Hill, and dear old Avebury. Need I go on. Alright, I will – Adam’s Grave. Good, eh? If The Sanctuary had a doorstep, I could safely say it’s a crying shame that the A4 is on its doorstep. Why, as a nation, are we famous for ruining our historic sites by running roads right through or by them? The Sanctuary would be truly that if it was remote from the A4, and had its original stones. It still exudes an atmosphere, in spite of everything.

A few years ago I visited Knap Hill, and was blown away by the place. However, I then walked across to Adam’s Grave, which outshone it. Knap Hill is the bridesmaid, and adam’s Grave the bride. Having said that, it is a place to put on your places to visit before you shuffle off this mortal coil. Adam’s Grave is a place to put on your list of places to visit tomorrow in case you shuffle off this mortal coil the day after tomorrow. In fact, stuff it, spoil yourself, visit them both tomorrow, it’d be daft not to.
Knap Hill is wide open, with outstanding views, and a sense of loneliness for a people gone. Choose a day of wind, and clouds sailing like galleons across the sky, with the sun-dappled landscape stretched out before you, with Avebury to the north, and Salisbury Plain to the south.

Big Wiltshire skies, cloud shadows chasing across the downs, creating a patchwork quilt over the already patchwork quilt of the farmland, wide-open spaces, pre-history peppered across the rolling landscape, a landscape of curvy, female-like form, and views over golden fields. There’s the odd crop circle too.
I first visited Adam’s Grave a few years ago, and was struck by the prominent position it occupies, visible from miles around. Knap Hill sits handily away to the east, and it’s good to feel the wind through my scalp. This is a special place, a place of great atmosphere, and a place where I feel great inner peace. Whoever was placed to rest her for eternity was truly blessed. I wish I could meet the people who built this barrow, for they truly felt something, something intangible to us today.
Sit up there on the right sort of day, and dream of the distant people, for whom a great, unknown driving force set them to work on this tomb.

This site is thought to have started its life as a henge, later adapted by the Romano-British as a settlement with hut-circles. There is also evidence of a round cairn. See the ADS link below:-

ads.ahds.ac.uk/catalogue/search/fr.cfm?rcn=LDNPHER08-2983

It’s about 100 feet in diameter, with what appear to be standing stones on top of the bank, in places, which is highest at the northern quarter, and seemingly constructed of rocks, which appear on the surface in this quarter.
When you visit it, you are struck more by its henge-like appearance than by any hut-circles, and the “standing stones” certainly seem too coincidental to be true. Some do appear to be large boulders “placed” on top of the bank, but others seem to have been erected. Even so, why are they on top of the bank if they’re natural?
Visit it, and decide for yourselves. It’s worth it for the views into beautiful upper Dovedale. The Brotherswater campsite, Sykeside Farm, is a few hundred yards away, as is the pub, always a bonus.

Eterwater is a beautiful place, full of lifelong memories for me. There is a supposed ancient cairn in the outskirts, but it’s scratchng at the truth. Many investigations leave me doubtful. I want a burial cairn at Elterwater.

13/04/09
Easter Monday in the Lakes, eh? Deserted on mine and Mrs. TEs’ walk. From Elterwater, over the shoulder of Lingmoor, into the twin valley of Little Langdale and a pastoral idyll. This is what Great Langdale must have been like before the internal (infernal more like) combustion engine.
We continued over the ancient (not prehistoric) Slater Bridge, and along to Fell Foot. In days gone bye, and in the second half of the 20th century, an old chap used to sit by the fell gate, opening and closing the gate to cars for a penny or two.
Sorry to go on, but we continued a couple of hundred yards up Wrynose Pass, before cutting across Blea Moss. According to local writer Bill Birkett, in his book (Great Langdale, A Year in the Life of), it’s a site of a neolithic/bronze age burial cairn, not that I’ve found it. We continued to delectable waterfalls, and on to Blea Tarn. Then we had our sarnies on the shoulder of Lingmoor, with Great Langdale below our boots.
I looked, through the bins, to the Pike of Stickle, and Harrison Stickle stone axe factories. Knowing where they are helps.
We descended soft, grassy, and mossy slopes to the Great Langdale campsite, stopping to admire the cup-marked boulder, amongst the sighing trees.
It does make you wonder what it was all about. Something to do with the axe factories? Why just the one boulder, when half-a-dozen similar ones lay about? Why just cup-marks, so near the axe factories, especially when the Copt Howe boulders are so elaborate?
The beer in the friendly, and familiar, beer garden at the Old Dungeon Ghyll finished off a perfect day.

This is a huge Bronze Age cairn, which, typically, for Cumbria, has been reduced down by fellwalkers, who, in their ignorance, have done what they do: mess about with summit cairns for their own shelter.
How ignorant “modern” man is. From the middle ages onwards we have helped to destroy numerous ancient monuments, and, on the Cumbrian fells, are still free to do so.
As Francis Pryor writes about in his outstanding book “Britain BC”, in the uplands of Britain the barrows change from earthen or megalithic to those made of stones: the cairns.
The cairns don’t seem to be protected very well. In fact, in reality, they don’t seem to have any protection. The archaeological records of these places in Cumbria are vague or non existant. Who cares about these remote cairns, which is what they all sem to be?
It’s a lonely summit – you won’t meet anyone up here. From the cairn the views are outstanding. On a clear day Scotland, North Wales, and the Isle of Man can be seen, and on exceptional days the mountains of Ireland have been claimed to be in view.
The Stockdale Moor (Sampson’s Bratfull) site is seen well from here, as is the modern eyesore of Sellafield (formerly Calder Hall, Windscale, etc.). Ancient and modern. Also, there is a good view of Burnmoor Tarn, and the cairn at the northern end, Maiden Castle. It makes me think of sightlines.

I visited this site on 10th March 2007, on a morning when the wind was blasting rain out of the west, and the clouds down on the top, depriving me of the wonderful view.
The Bronze Age cairn has been messed with, and the rocks have been scattered a bit. It must have been a substantial cairn in its original form. Two low-walled shelters have been constructed from the hoary old stones, providing shelter for the intrepid traveller, who can huddle from the wind. It’s an exposed place, at just short of 1,500 feet above sea level.
This cairn will appeal to the lover of the more obscure evidence of prehistory.

Earthwork remains of an Iron Age hillfort containing levelled rock-cut hut platforms, according to ADS, but they’re hard to spot amongst the heather. It’s quite a small fort, sited on top of a rocky outcrop. There’s not a lot to see, but it’s obvious that the site would be easily defended.
You can see Castlerigg Stone Circle from the top, if you know where to look, and have binoculars.
It was a cold day of sub-zero temperatures, when me and my mate, Pie Eater, visited. The ice, under the light covering of powder snow, made for an interesting ascent. The Forestry Commission have spoilt the area somewhat, but the short detour to the top of nearby Raven Crag will reward the intrepid antiquarian with spectacular views of Thirlmere.

Supposedly, this is a reconstructed site. Perfectly manicured lawns, courtesy of the local Herdwick sheep, and manure to keep the grass growing.
This is the land that could well be described as the “arsehole of nowhere”, not that I wouldn’t like to live there. The west Cumbrian coast is the hardest part of England to get to. Even from the central Lakes it’s at least an hour plus to get to Kinniside, sorry Blakeley Raise. The new name has come from the small fell behind. It’ known locally as Kinniside.
If you get there at the right time of day, i.e. when the minority of dickheads who work at Sellafield aren’t going to, or coming from work at high speed on a narrow road, often on the wrong side, then it’s bliss, otherwise don’t bother, as the chances of a crash are high. As are the chances of a crash on the southern approaches from the M6, to-whit, the A590 (740 casualties in the last 5 years).
Enough doom. The circle is set high above Cleator Moor, which can be seen down to the west. Sellafield’s (it’s safe, honest) chimneys and cooling towers spoil the view of the Irish Sea. To the N and NW lovely fells rise up, as the do immediately behind. You can walk these heights all day without seeing a soul.
As for the circle, well the story of the reconstruction (see my notes in the miscellaneous) sort of destroys the illusion of the perfect setting. How can we really be sure they’re the right stones in the right holes? It changes the atmosphere and feeling of the site for me.

This is a hard to find site, small, but the evidence is there if you stumble upon it, with worked stone to be seen.
If you can’t find it amongst the many areas of scree and rock then so what, ‘cos it’s worth going to the top of Glaramara for its own sake. Glorious, with the length of Borrowdale stretching northwards to Skiddaw, and the highest land in England to the south.
If you walk south along the ridge to Allen Crags, just after the lowest point, look on the left for the most perfect of mountain tarns, just off the track, and ringed by grey rock. The setting is unforgetable, the waters gently lapping the shore, the wind soughing through the mountain grasses, whilst the north face of Great End looms over all, dark and gaunt, the mists rising like smoke through her gullies.
.........and at work I wonder why my mind isn’t on the job.

27/05/06 You tend to stumble across these cairns, rather than look for them. From The Cockpit you head SSE, then see a suspicious upright stone, which turns out to be an old estate boundary stone, not an ancient outlier of the stone circle, discovered for archaeological posterity by your good self.
They are mostly overgrown, which is understandable, considering their lonely nature. Who, apart from a few lone, romantic souls, with a faraway look in their eyes, bother to seek them out for their worth? Most concentrate on the likes of Castlerigg, thus depriving those sites of their mystique, for who can fully feel the spirit of place when it’s shared with so many.
Give me the solitude of the lonely Cockpit cairns any day, with only the larks for company, and the sound of the wind soughing through the long grass.

27/05/06 My latest visit, the first been in the formative years of a child at junior school, when a threatening sky lay low over the ridge that takes the High Street Roman road. A defining moment, with the atmosphere making an impression that turned me onto prehistory for life.
Today there were four people in the circle, two with a playful puppy, up there for the exercise, and two backpackers, resting, yet seemingly unaware of the significance of the fact that they lay on old, damp ground, which wasn’t any old, damp ground. It was old, yes, and damp, but not any old, damp ground. They lay back oblivious, more concerned with the water from the nearby beck, and its quality. Not once did they mention the circle. Heathens.
I wished they would go away, but no loitering with a camera would shift them , so I had to make do with avoiding them in the shots.
The circle is set in a green sward of close-cropped grass, all around being rough scrub. The views aren’t bad, but are better from Arthur’s Pike to the SW.

27/05/06,
A showery, overcast, windy Whit Saturday saw me visiting a number of old favourites, with a day on th’ill thrown in for good measure.
Parking at Martindale new church, I was heading for The Cockpit on Moor Divock, followed by Swarth Fell stone circle.
Round the back of the church, a grassy path takes you over a low rise, then descends to a well-worn track. Here are the cairns, described as “Bronze Age cairnfield” on the ADS website. They are very overgrown, the only sign being the protruding rocks in an otherwise grassy area. It’s not worth visiting for the sake of it, but if you’re ever passing it’s only five minutes from the car, and in a beautiful setting, and there is a good view of Dunmallard
Hill sitting proud at the northern end of Ullswater. I wonger if anything of interest lies within?

Visited on 06/05/06. It was a warm spring day, with a thunderstorm threatening, but not arriving. Hardly anyone visits this rather uninspiring fell, one of the dullest in the Lakes, just a bit of a grassy wedge. However, on a fresh day, with cloud shadows chasing across the landscape, the views would be worth it without the barrow.
The barrow’s nowt to write home about, but if you did it’d go summthing like this: “Saw a Bronze age barrow today. Quite a small barrow, grassy, with a modern cairn on top.” It’s set on the western edge of the fell, where the ground falls steeply away. To the west the bog of Flaska stretches away to Castlerigg stone circle, north north west to Carrock Fell hillfort, east to The Cockpit and south to the Beckstones rock art. It’s probably 15 to 20 feet in diameter and a few feet high.
An easy ascent, with time to spend on top if you’ve got a spare hour.

08/04/06
A day of snow showers and bitter winds. The snow that plastered the central and eastern Lakeland mountains was a litte higher around the Buttermere, Crummock, and Loweswater hills, with little around the cairn. The wind was bitter, and snow showers raked the hills all day.
The cairn is set on a low ridge, above boggy ground, on the ridge top, but not on an obviously high point. It is situated on a down slope, above a broad col, on a ridge leading to a low summit. A most unusual place.
The centre looks like it has been dug out, or do I mean excavated. It looks like it’s tough shit, no records exist.
It’s about 2 to 3 feet high, and about 25 to 30 feet in diameter. Why it was set here is anybodys guess. Is it connected with the Crummock rock art? Westwards, over a high ridge, lies the West Cumberland Plain, where many Bronze Age Settlements have been found.

The cairn sits at roughly the highest point of the pass between Grasmere and Thirlmere, called Dunmail Raise.
No bugger visits this. Not surprising really, as it sits in the middle of a dual carriageway. It’s sod’s Law really. The only place the road diverges is right here, for about 200 yards or so.
Mind you, if it hadn’t they might well have destroyed the cairn. There is a record of a stone circle here being destroyed when the road was “improved”. I’d like to get me ‘ands on the b*stard who planned that.
As for the cairn, well I must have driven past it literally hundreds of times, but I’ve never stopped to take a closer look. I always take my eyes off the road to have a good look whilst driving past. The hoary old stones give the appearance of being very ancient. The lichens and mosses look like they haven’t been disturbed for flippin’ ages.
As for remains of the stone circle, many large rocks can be seen around, and your imagination can take over. Try to think logically, otherwise every stone could be a possible remnant.

Belated fieldnotes.
I arrived at Carrock Fell after a long day on the hills. It had been a bitterly cold day of gale-force winds and sub-zero temperatures on the fell tops.
The final approach, from the E, was over ground that would be boggy in warmer conditions, with the top rising above all else. This was the only direction which didn’t involve a steep ascent to gain the fort.
Once there I found the summit rocks to be surrounded by tumble-down stone walls, which were obviously impressive in their time. Entrances exist to the four points of the compass, and the views are extensive in all directions. There is no way this place could have been approached by stealth. The ascent from the valley is strenuous.
Archaeologists are of the opinion that it was never occupied as a fortified enclosure. If that was the case, then why all the effort to construct these very substantial banks of stone?
This is a very beautiful place of great loneliness, with nothing to be heard, save for the wind soughing through the pale grasses and ancient walls, and the song of the lark.

“A Bronze Age round cairn; a circular mound of stones 10.5m in diameter and up to 0.5m high. The surface of the mound has been partly disturbed by construction of a modern shelter using stones from the cairn.” ADS.

This large cairn occupies the summit of selside Pike. We arrived there at the end of a long day on the fells around the head of Mardale. After many hours battling gale-force winds, mist, and horizontal rain, the weather eased off to heavy showers.
We sought sanctuary in the shelter that has sadly been made from the cairn. All around is nothing but grass, so the stones must have been carried up there.
It is a prominent site, with extensive views, including to the shap complex in the E, High Raise and Low Raise cairns to the NW, and the Four Stones Hill standing stones to the NE.

“A Bronze Age round cairn; a flat-topped oval mound of stones up to 0.8 high with maximum dimensions of 9m by 8m. There is a modern walkers’ cairn on the northern edge of the cairn.” ADH.

Just a few yards to the east of the route of the High Street R*man road, this cairn on the summit of High Raise is rarely visited. To the ENE the grassy ridge descends to the Bronze Age cairn on Low Raise.
The High Raise cairn is set on a rocky outcrop on a grassy ridge, the outcrops providing the building materials. On the E side a shelter has been constructed by wind-beaten travellers on the fells.
I’ve been here many times, and it always feels a special place of tranquility, even in times of storm, of which there are many.

“Remains of a cairn on the summit of Low Raise. 9.0m in diameter and 1.0m high.” According to ADS.

I’ve been on High Raise more times than I’d care to mention for fear of ridicule. I’ve only been on the ridge down over Low Raise once. I knew about the cairn, but was still surprised to find it in a place where there was nothing but grass. No outcrops, no rock beneath the immediate few feet of surface, just peat.
This is a lonely place, make no mistake, just a faint trace of flattened grass to show that others had trodden there once or twice. Go there when the mists are swirling over the hills, as I did, when it seems that you’ll never see more than a few feet of sodden fellside for the rest of the day. The cairn looms out of the mist like a great leviathan out of the depths. It looks like there is a quarry a few feet to the west, but seems too shallow to have excavated that much rock, and anyway, it’s all far too rounded and regular.
This is a huge cairn for the area. Even on the surrounding rocky peaks the modern summit cairns are small. High Raise is an exception, and there lies another site.
Descending down to the Iron Age hillfort of Castle Crags, Haweswater is shown to its best, full length.

Obviously an old cairn, the stones being covered in very old lichen. The centre has been cleared to make a shelter. It is situated to the NNW of Burnmoor Tarn. Is this anything to do with the Burnmoor complex? It’s marked on the map as an old cairn.

Reached here with Pie Eater, just after visiting Brats Hill. We’re even more confused, due to the nearness of Brats Hill, plus the strange wall that looks like an enclosure. Also by the two circles. What went on here? Today all was peaceful, and had a nice feeling. But I’ve been here when the clouds are low on the fells, and a cold rain rakes across Burnmoor (one word, not two), and then the mystery of the place is all pervading, and a sense of doom pervades. Woooooo.

Reached this from Boot. After hitting the ridge, and not wanting to miss anything, we thought we knew best, me and Pie Eater, knowing these wild places of Cumbria like we do. A wearisome plod though deep tussocks saw us overlooking Brats Hill and White Moss. We descended to Brats Hill and found the path we should’ve stuck to if we had had any sense, but adventurous souls will always be adventurous souls, untethered by the constrictions of the modern world. Hmmmm. We noticed a few cairns, dug out(?) in the centre. This circle had a good view of White Moss. We were impressed by the number of large stones comprising the circle, all in surroundings of grass. They must’ve taken some dragging. We were also impressed, as always, by the bulk of Scafell, our next objective, rearing its head in omniprescent steepness to the north. A quiet place. Why here?

Lying between the Thorn Crag and Pike of Stickle stone axe factory sites, this site, one of many on Loft Crag, has been unearthed by the passage of feet on the popular Langdale Pikes. As well as many greenstone flakes and chips on the path and scree, there are also flakes and chips sticking out of the peat that has been eroded by walkers.
This is just part of a huge complex in Great Langdale.

Having read about this site, I knew where to look. Right on the brink of the drop into the depths of Dungeon Ghyll, these quarries appeared as hollows in the ground. Amongst the untouched natural rocks were greenstone blocks, flakes and chips, showing much evidence of stone working. The fact that I have only ever seen these in stone axe production areas highlights the authenticity.
The greenstone is a striking, clean colour, and the site is set amongst magnificent mountain scenery. Across the dark declevity of Dungeon Ghyll the craggy face of Harrison Stickle (another peak with axe factories) rises in steep, grey butresses, soaring high above.
Over the edge, before the final plunge into Dungeon Ghyll, there is another short slope, full of scree, and documented as containing more evidence of stone axe production, but I didn’t visit that, as I was speeding towards Loft Crag and, finally, the Pike of Stickle stone axe factory.
There’s always next time

The other day I decided to say sod it and go down the Pike of Stickle scree. We’re not really supposed to do it, and I’ll probably be criticised for it, but never mind. I trod carefully, at least as carefully as you can on sliding rocks.
The journey was part of a longer day on the hills, and I also visited the Thorn Crag and Loft Crag stone axe sites. I think all the Langdale stone axe sites should be split up into independant sites under the banner of “Langdale Axe Factory” on TMA. For instance, there’s sites over on Bow Fell.
Anyhow, all the sites had much evidence of stone flakes and chips. Lovely greenstone, once the surface has been removed. The Pike of Stickle scree held an amazing amount of this evidence. It has to be seen to be believed.
The man-made cave had lots of smaller stone chips – evidence of a certain amount of basic finishing of the axes, or of working of the cave? The cave was aproximately 5 to 6 feet wide, 7 feet deep, and 7 feet high.
The descent to the valley was interesting to say the least.

What an unusual place. Iron Age, but not a fort? Doesn’t seem to fit in with anything. Gives a feeling more of the Neolithic.
Any road up, it’s worth a visit. The photos don’t do justice to the fantastic position, or the panorama, especially down to the Bourne Valley and Salisbury.
The central area is vast, the banks and ditches deep and high. A huge number of man-hours must’ve been required in its construction.
It remains an enigma, but I feel we should be looking to the Neolithic for answers. Oh, and a few more excavations too, please.

What a place to get away from the mess and crowds of Stonehenge. Just to sit here and think, knowing someone of great importance was buried here. What ceremonies took place on this spot all those years ago?
There is a feeling of great open space, both on ground and in sky. The burial mounds stretch away in most directions, and the wind seems to whisper the secrets of the past as it sighs through the grasses.
A place for solitary contemplation, with a great feeling of the deep past.

Cracking views from the top of this hill. It did leave me wondering why the Iron Age fort wasn’t built on the site of the Neolithic causewayed enclosure. Reverence for long-distant ancestors, or was it just that they required a greater area?

It was interesting to see the continuation of use of the causewayed enclosure from the Neolithic into the Bronze age, with the number of round barrows on the top, near the edge for visibility from the valley. One in particular was quite high. I also noticed that at the westermost point of the hill, the edge containing a few round barrows, has started collapsing, into what looks like an old quarry site. Did any of the barrows fall in?

The Bronze Age cross dyke seems to separate what was later the Iron Age “side” of the hill from the Neolithic/Bronze Age “side”.

Pick a sunny day and you definitely won’t have the place to yourself.

A word of warning:-
Don’t park in the parking area halfway up the track, as it’s a bit isolated, and you might get your window put through, like we did. We had loads of cds in the car, but they didn’t take anything – either they were after credit cards, or our taste in music isn’t up to much.

Walked from Hartsop to Beckstones, on my way to the hills, and called in to see the rock art. Arrived at the farm at the same time as a National Trust Landrover, with two people with enviable jobs within.
The first chap out was very helpful and enthusiastic, and was more than happy for me to go into the field enclosure (off the right of way) to see the rock art. He even knew it was prehistoric. “It’s up theer, lad”, he said, “supporsed t’be pre’istoric.” I replied with “Ovver theer, up on th’mound?” To which he said “Aye, lad, it’s on top o’ that theer, jus’ gerrup an’ it’s a few bits o’ dimples in t’ rock.”
My heart sank – “...a few bits o’ dimples in t’ rock.” And it was just that.
It’s a small site to say the least, with cup-marks that were a little underwhelming, to me. No wonder it took so long to discover them.
Most are covered in moss, but is it ethical to clear the moss? I dug one or two out for photos.
About a quarter of a mile back there was a rock that someone had cleared some moss off, and that had, on first acquaintance a cup-mark. This, on closer inspection, looked more natural than man-made.
Having seen the Beckstones area, I am now even more confused as to what is natural and man-made. The big issue with cup-marks is the fact that with the Borrowdale Volcanic rocks there are so many natural cup-marks, that are attributed to volcanic gas bubbles. Having said that, the Beckstones cup-marks were fairly regular, but small.
The site is covered by trees, so photography is tricky, if your digital isn’t set to what you thought it was, like mine.
So, apologies for the over-exposed photos, but they do give some sort of impression of what to expect. Thank goodness for the fact it rained hard last night, filling the cup-marks with water. The ones that I cleared the moss from don’t show up much, but the puddles show up the others.
Further on, I looked over a garden wall, just below where the path from Pattrerdale ascends to Boredale Hause. Guess what? There’s a rock slab in the garden with moss cleared off, and what looked to me to be cup-marks. I took a few photos from a distance, but will check t’internet to confirm my suspicions that this is another “Goldrill Beck” site, so the photos of that will have to wait.

Been past these rocks all my life, but the rock art stuff was only discovered fairly recently. It’s all pecked stuff, and harder to see close up. Low, slanting sunlight shows it up best, when shadows are cast. Unfortunately, I’ve never had a camera with me then.

The photos I’ve posted were taken at 9:00am on 10th June 2005, when the sun was too high to provide decent shadow. Alright, it’s my fault for having a bit too much vino collapso the night before, preventing me from getting up early enough.

As for the cup marks, I’m certain they’re natural – gas bubbles when the rock formed. My reason for saying this? The rocks all over the fellsides around here exhibit the same characteristics. On the same day I found the same “cup marks” on the fellside directly above Copt Howe on many rocks, on the Blea Tarn road, on Silver How, Blea Rigg, Pavey Ark, Harrison Stickle, and back near the Old Dungeon Ghyll. Also, I know these features are common on Pike o’ Blisco.

This recent visit was on Whit Saturday, 2005. Typical bank holiday weather. The news said it was 33 deg C in London yesterday, 6 deg C on the Lakeland fells today – worlds apart. It was a day of gales, with storm force gusts, blowing me over several times. Add to that the horizontal rain, which arrived just as I reached the circle, and the photos don’t do justice to the grimness of the scene.

Set in a valley head, with the Roman road of High Street on the ridge to the east, and the Moor Divock circles and cairns to the NNE, the only open aspect is to the N. The stones are recumbant now, but possibly once stood. The western sector has no stones, or they are burried under grass tussocks. To the SW of the circle two pairs of stones seem to form an avenue.

The circle is hard to spot, lost in acres of grass and marsh. It doesn’t help that the stones aren’t standing. If you don’t know the area it will be hard to find, and the O.S. map shows it slightly further N and W.

Kemp Howe stone circle would have been a beautiful monument today, but some prat built a railway over the top of the eastern half of it. The other stones are supposed to be still in-situ under the railway banks.

When approaching Shap from the south on the A6, the circle is situated in a narrow field between the railway and the road, just short of the first buildings of Shap, on the right hand side. A gate gives access, but please close it after you to keep in the farmer’s good books. It is easily seen on the approach, and at first appears to be a stone avenue.

Six large stones remain, along with a number of smaller ones. In the middle, at the western edge, a number of small stones form what appears to be a small cove.

The rough, pink Shap granite, used to construct the circle, has to be seen, as no pictures do justice to the striking quality and appearance of this rock, especially after rain.

A univallate Iron Age hillfort, set above what was once the valley of Mardale. In the first half of the 20th C the valley was damned at Burnbanks, and flooded to quench the thirst of Manchester.

It occupies extensive views down the valley eastwards, towards Shap, and up to the dramatic valley head, thronged by mountains rising steeply.

It was excavated in the 1920s.

Also known as Scale How, this is a low mound in a field, just over a drystone wall. There are stone “steps” built into the wall for access.

It is a Bronze Age bowl barrow, constructed of earth and stones, 17m in diameter and 1.5m in height. Human remains were found during 19th C excavations.

It is part of the huge Shap complex of circles and avenues, most of which have sadly been destroyed.

When approaching on the road from Haweswater (from the NW and W as it winds) the barrow can be seen outlined against the sky.

The only visible remains of this supposed Iron Age univallate hillfort are the low bank and part of a shallow ditch. What a spectacular site for a hillfort. I doubt anywhere compares to this. To the S a 19th Century quarry bites into the site.

The summit area is small, and the population must have numbered few.

“Earthwork remains of a slight Iron Age? univallate hillfort; antiquarian work recovered Roman pottery and evidence for iron working on the site.” (Quote from PastScape).

I’ve visited this site many times and in many different weathers. It’s a windswept site, with mountains rising all around, but it commands views down to all points of the compass.

The old track through the valley and over Sty Head Pass to the S, finally to the sea, passes below.

It is an impregnable place, the ground falling away precipitously to the N, E and W. To the S there is access, though very steep, making the hillfort well defended. The bank and ditch are unnecessary to the N, E and W. Here there are vertical drops.

A modern aspect is the war memorial, on the summit, a slate slab inscribed to the the men of Borrowdale who gave the ultimate sacrifice during the Second World War, mounted on the crowning rock. What finer memorial could they have?

Years ago, as a young lad (aged about 8 in 1972), my dad took me down the Pike of Stickle scree run, and being used to steep places I revelled in it. The man-made cave was exciting to someone my age, and we explored inside. We also looked for axes, but found none. Further quick descents were made this way in the 70s, just to get off the mountains quickly.
In the late 80s onwards I used the scree run as a very fast descent from a days rock climbing – from the top, around 2,100 feet, to the bottom in less than ten minutes. It felt as fast as the speed of light when surfing down on a wave of stones. Little did we (or many others like us) think of the damage we were doing.
Now I resist the quick way, and hammer my knees on the steep tracks.
I will return soon to check out the cave again, but will take great care not to dislodge any stones – it will be the longest descent of the scree on record.
What a spectacular place.

The first time I visited Avebury was incredible. We had been down from the northlands, visiting friends in Bath. One day they drove us to Avebury. After passing Devizes the landscape changed into beautiful, gentle, rolling downland, with barrows pimpling the skylines. Antiquarian heaven. Every turn in the road disclosed more evidence of prehistory.
North Down and Bishop’s Canning Down closed in over the road, and a special atmosphere was all-pervading.
The only jarring note was the buildings inside Avebury, but we knew about these. We spent hours wandering the banks and the internal site, trying to piece together what it must have looked like.
In the distance we saw a crop circle – the perfect ending. We left, and I felt we left sadly, knowing it would be quite some time before we could return.
A special site with a special atmosphere. Oh yes, and great archaeology.......but first impressions count in fieldnotes.

Back around 1989, a load of us went to a mates wedding in Southampton. On the long trek back north we called at Stonehenge. It was shrouded in fog, and there were few visitors. We jumped over the wall and down to the underpass, which was possible then, and got in for free. We reckoned it was obscene having to pay what they were asking to enter the greatest stone circle ever.
It didn’t disappoint, although the clinical surroundings did. I just looked at the stones in awe. I wished I had come sooner. My mum and dad visited when you just walked over grass and entered the chalk floor of the circle at will. Impossible to allow that today, even though I moan about the regulations, I begrudgingly agree to them.
Up to that point I read all about stone circles, but hadn’t read much about Stonehenge, due to focusing on sites closer to home. That day I bought my first Stonehenge book, and since then have been fascinated by the Neolithic and Bronze Ages in Wessex.
The Cumbrian sites still take some beating with their savage surroundings.

My mate used to rent a flat on the farm about 100 yards down the lane from Castlerigg, and said there was a constant stream of visitors, by night as well during summer.
I’ve been there countless times, and I’ve rarely had it to myself, except during a storm, when it comes into its own. Mind you, the mountains disappear behind the clouds then.
I love looking at it from the surrounding peaks, trying to pick it out, finding the rough area, then resorting to binoculars, from which you can see it clearly.
The setting is perfection, raised above the valleys to the south, east and west, only blocked in to the far north. The far north? That’s where the sun and moon don’t appear, isn’t it?
Is there a more perfect setting for a stone circle?

Excavated in 1910 by W.G. Collingwood (ref. Transactions of the Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeological Society, Original Series, 1910, vol. 10, p 342). Included in “The Stone Circles of Cumbria” by John Waterhouse (ISBN 0858335663).
Described as an embanked circle, the stones are only 2 feet high at best. It is hard to find, due to its lack of presence. From a distance it is hard to believe there is anything there other than grass and bog.
The first time I visited was many years ago, when great, grey curtains of cloud were sweeping across the site. A steady drizzle added to the misery, but the site held a presence all of its own under those conditions. In my mind I peopled it, and tried to imagine the rites enacted there.
Today it was spring-like,and a totally different atmosphere pervaded.
Pottery found there dates it to the early Bronze Age, and it held several cremations. Also found were fragments of calcined bone, charcoal, urns, a flint scraper and a bead of white-ish-grey porcelain. Fragments of skull found are thought to be female. Also, attached to one of the urns was a fragment of finely-woven woollen cloth.
Some of the finds can be seen in the Ruskin Museum in Coniston (see link).
Roughly 100 yards ENE (ish) of the circle, I found an old cairn, very overgrown, and composed of boulders. I couldn’t help wondering if it was related to the circle in some way.