ryaner

Crockateemore is a small hill/prominence 120 metres above the foam, one and a half kilometres south-west of Fair Head and Cross passage tomb. The passage tomb here could be said to be a close relation to that at Cross, though it would have been far larger. The location is as stunning.

We did what we were told and headed north out of the hamlet of Ballyvoy all the way to the end at the farmhouse where we knocked and asked for permission. Receptions this far from home can be unpredictable. I sat in the jeep 50 metres away as the farmer listened to Thomas with utter insouciance, all the while staring at me, eventually relenting to Thomas’s simple country charm, even allowing us to drive through his yard and up to within 100 metres of the tombs.

Which came first, the court or the passage? The passage sits above the scarped edge of Crockateemore, below which lies the court tomb 30 metres distant at the south-west. All that remains is the ring of the kerb, 15 metres diameter, 40 boulders, some contiguous. There are some stones within the ring, none identifiable as anything more than a guess. But no matter, because what is important here is the location.

Rathlin lies a short 5 kilometres to the north, Knocklayd 6 to the south-west. Though you’re on farmland here, the coast stretching away to the east and the west makes the relic feel utterly maritime. Like at Fair Head there are cliffs nearby, north-facing bluffs leading down not to the sea directly, but to a narrow strip of land 20 metres above the crashing waves. Just slightly east of north of here there is a way down, a venture that shall remain unfulfilled for the moment.

Ticloy, Tamybuck, Antynanum – there’s quite a bit going on in this neighbourhood, a nice triangle of megalithic mystery, only if you’re going to Antynanum, bring a map, which I didn’t, so I didn’t go. But Ticloy is visible from the road, and though ugly, is quite the charmer.

These mid-Antrim tombs, away from the sea, are easily accessible, mostly. We stopped a tractor on the lane below the tomb and asked for permission to visit and though he didn’t own the field, the farmer reckoned the owner wouldn’t mind us checking it out as it’s quite the popular attraction apparently. Except the field it’s in was under crop at the time of our visit.

So what to do? Well it’s not that far from the southern edge of the field so I skirted around that direction from the west, taking a few foties as I went. The crop between the tomb and the southern wall was thin enough for me to venture across to it.

Seven stones remain. Instead of the usual single capstone there’s two. Which leads one to question whether it’s a classic portal tomb at all. Further reading mentions a former court-like facade at the east. Speculation that the Antynanum court-tomb builders were experimenting with a new form while retaining some of their own tradition sounds quite convincing.

Ticloy squats there, bulky, ragged, tottering, testament to the ingenuity of the ancestors, hanging on in there despite the ever-increasing mechanisation of the society around it. You could mooch around the stones here for a bit and not regret it. Slemish away to the south-west draws the eye, focus of so many monuments in Antrim.

I’d normally have some quite detailed map screenshots with me on these ventures but something happened over the last while. This was the second time in recent days when I’d forgotten to upload the feckin’ things. So even though this would be relatively easy to find, tucked in behind a wall of a small paddock about 60 metres from the road, it was like being back in the old days, relying on the OS map and a bit lost.

There’s quite a lot to see here, when you eventually find it. It’s at the east end of of a large field, west of the junction of Lisles Hill Road and Lough Road, hidden from view until you enter the field and head south-east a bit. The ground south of the gallery has been quarried, destroying the outer walling on that side. The southern inner wall of the gallery is still there, as is the northern and its outer walling.

I had only a short time here as there were cattle in the field, the kind that take a partial interest and begin a slow saunter towards you. There are many stones scattered around the gallery, possible roofstones and other orthostats. A single roofstone rests on the fill between the inner and outer walling on the northern side. I would have liked to have had a better nose around but legged it before the bovine onslaught arrived.

There’s a small hamlet called Millbrook just before Larne, to the left off the A8 from Belfast, a handy turn off at the roundabout avoiding the town, which we’d done on the two previous occasions heading for the Glens. Why change now? Both times we’d headed up the B148 towards Cairncastle and eventually down to the coast road – this time we took a fairly swift left up into the higher ground above Sallagh Braes and into Killyglen townland to this impressive standing stone.

The views down to the coast around Larne are supposed to be fantastic but not today – it’s overcast and dull. There’s not great parking around here and the fences are barbed and tight, surprising given the land’s only really useful for sheep farming. The stone has its own platform, standing proud above the generally heathery surroundings. It’s bulbous and rugged and 2 metres tall and worth a visit, about 50 metres from the road.

Mautiagh – (maw-teeah – An Mháiteach [on vaw-chock] – the flooded place) townland spreads steeply north up the hill above Glenaniff valley. On the OS map there is a clear track up from the road and it’s directly aligned onto the tomb. It’s also there on the vector map at the Historic Environment Viewer, as clear as day. Go to the satellite image and it’s there too – it meanders up, zig-zagging in the lower reaches but straightens out eventually.

We knocked at the house on the road at the beginning of the track. Could we head up onto the mountain using the track at the back of your house? We want to go up to the megalithic tomb. That’s no problem, but you might struggle a bit. Understatement of the year, but sure she’s only trying to help. The track is now completely overgrown, impassable. So what to do? Nothing else for it than to head straight up through the woods, scrambling at first, then a fence appears on the right and this helps us gain the open air above the treeline.

Up here it’s all heather and bracken, our disappointing track probably a remnant from the old turf-cutting days. It’s a wilderness now, vague deer-trodden paths tempting us further and higher. We spy an old house – someone lived up here once, the track’s purpose finally revealed – imaginings of a desperate existence. There’s still a ways to go but you can feel it now.

We’ve been skirting the west side of the mountain for a while now when our objective appears, 250 metres ahead. The peat is deep here, treacherous holes hidden under pretty heather. The tomb is on more stable ground, the grey limestone of which it is made appearing like a scab on the skin of the deep brown and green environment. Our pace quickens.

There’s a large stone-wall enclosure north of the monument. Parts of its southern wall incorporate the megalithic tomb. The grave is a shattered mess, barely recognisable due to the material used in its construction being the same limestone pavement on which it lies. It looks like the tomb itself was prised up out of the ground with only a cursory plan. Looks can be deceptive. A north/south wall cuts through the cairn at the western end of what I thought was the complete tomb but as it turns out is just the eastern tomb of a dual court tomb. Over the wall, hidden in the heather, is another gallery, one I discovered back at home after the event. I’ve made this error too often lately.

Of the remains that we did see, the most prominently visible feature was the eastern court and the first two chambers of the eastern gallery. The court is now embedded in the peat, the tops of its stones peeping up and out to a max of about 30 cms. It’s wild up here and as we moped about, a handsome, brazen red fox headed south over the prow of the ridge about 50 metres away, aware of our presence but confident enough to take its time.

We’d started at the 170 contour and ended up at the 290, a paltry gain of around 120 metres, but it was a testing trek. A kilometre north of west of here is another court tomb in Shasgar – it would be a brave soul that would attempt both of these from the direction we took, or any direction for that matter.

Deep in the middle of nowhere you never know what you might find. Research first before you leave, for the place can be treacherous, but don’t delve too deep, as revelation is the better part of the process. Park up as close as you can get and once agreement is reached, vault any obstacle and scour…

Sometimes the pin is dropped in the wrong place, anticipation and frustration in equal measure – it’s fucking ‘round here somewhere. Wretched, undulating semi-bog, thistly, rushy, dank… hazel scrub that seems to deter even the sheep. What am I looking for asks my mate. It’s a court tomb, or so they say. Maybe it’s been completely removed.

Limestone pavement is spied under wild ash, elder and hawthorn. A pincer movement, me down from the north, him up from the south, is this it? Here it is. The first sight is a large stone, outlying, probable part of the eastern court, laterally placed so maybe part of a jamb-like entrance into a sacred space, its smaller match hidden beneath the tangle of grass. This solitary stone is all that remains of the northern arm of the court.

Push deeper into the small glade – you know it’s there, nettles are nothing now. Huge jambstones signal the entrance into a three-chambered gallery, everything blocky, slab-like lumps of limestone, moss-covered. The southern wall of the first two chambers of the gallery has been removed. Massive slabs of corbelling sit precariously atop the northern wall. Covered by a spindly, splayed hazel tree, the third chamber is inaccessible, the jambs separating it from the middle chamber like sentinels.

Come out south and around the back and beyond the third chamber there’s more. Another tomb in fact, the south-western, double-chambered, baby bro of this dual court tomb set. Again there’s no southern wall – the floor of the gallery here is filled-in, deeply buried in the cairn. Substantial, tiered corbelled slabs remain on the northern side, here out in the open. Maybe there’s a court beyond, back in under the dense vegetation further west, or maybe there once was.

Barracashlaun (Barr an chaisleán?, top of the castle), western, wild, partially decrepit – go to google maps and see the quarry creep ever closer. The middle of somewhere approaches.

After two relative disappointments earlier in the day this was the real deal. Aghnacally (achadh na calliagh? – field of the cailleach) is on the north-western slopes of Slieve Rushen (404m) and I’d always assumed that the megalithic tomb marked on the OS map was the Aughrim tomb, uprooted and taken off to the Slieve Russel hotel. Browsing the Historic Environment Viewer at archaeology.ie disabused me of that assumption – Aughrim is actually to the south-east of the mountain, five kilometres away.

There are a couple of ways to approach this isolated site: the difficult one that we took in Tircahan townland at H196245; the other at Drumbrughas at H207270. Either way brings you deep into the borderlands of north Cavan. I hadn’t got too many hopes for the site as the satellite photo shows heavy pine forest and an overgrown clearing. Thankfully we were in my mate Thomas’s 4X4 because after two kilometres up an ever decreasing road, then lane, then track, then forest track, I was ready to turn back. He wasn’t having any of that so on we went, up another two kilometres, through forest junctions, along overgrown tracks, deeper and deeper – this would be a pleasant day’s hike, the track beside the tomb leading up onto the top of the mountain.

All of the plantation trees in the vicinity of the tomb are felled, but the small, unplanted enclosure where it lies is overgrown. This is no bad thing with the vegetation deepening the mystery and enfolding the tomb in a magical atmosphere. However, there are vague trails here – we’re not the only visitors seeking out ancient knowledge. And then there it is, hidden among some stray pines and lots of summer grasses, what on first sight looks like a tumbledown wreck, but on further investigation reveals itself to be a fine wedge tomb.

Open at its south-west end, closed by a backstone at the north-east, with a much intact, covered chamber in between, this, at times infuriatingly overgrown, monument is, to use a well-worn cliché, a hidden gem. The split roofstone covers most of the gallery, just the westernmost sidestone of the northern wall jutting out beyond to the front of the tomb. Hunkering down, the cozy interior of the gallery looked inviting in a maybe-once-upon-a-time sort of way, but not now, thanks all the same. Sunshine intermittently broke through and lit the floor of the fern and clover-floored sepulchre.

There’s classic outer walling and some cairn here too but it’s all pretty much buried in the detritus and mulch. This is not an easy site to peruse – you’re in danger of falling down through some hidden void and spraining an ankle – but it’s well worth the hassle, the rugged structure revealing itself slowly, surviving down through the ages. It’s the type of place you don’t want to leave, a place where maybe, once in a blue moon, you might meet a stranger in search of an answer to an unspoken question.

Visiting this is a slightly awkward pleasure: thoughts of the absolute arrogance of digging it up and transferring it to your hotel and golf club and using it as a massively ignored decorative afterthought so you can continue to quarry out the side of the mountain on which it rested, weighed up against the desire to see it, check on it, maybe mourn it a bit.

It’s the monument that most points up the angst that sometimes accompanies me on my pursuit of these monuments. That pursuit has been made multiple times easier by the mapping system at both the Historic Environment Map Viewer in the north and the similar system at archaeology.ie in the south. The wealth and depth of information available at these websites almost makes anything I do here redundant. Almost… because as we all know, these monuments need looking after, a task the authorities are not always too keen to pursue. Who said it here? “Progress was fine, but it went on too long.”

So in our need for economic progress we’re sometimes quite prepared to demolish what we once were. Precious funerary monuments from 3,500 years ago are deemed expendable and the safety blanket of ‘preservation by record’ is used to register their destruction. What happens the stones after? It seems that they’re then put in storage, the report is written up and we move on. Or as has happened here, permission is given to reconstruct away from the original site. On reflection, even the very notion of a visit here being an acceptable alternative to seeing it in its original place is contemptible. To do so is to almost acquiesce in a process that one finds hugely problematic. Almost…

So what’s it like anyway? Well it seems that it was in a fairly ruined condition before the excavations in 1992, and no matter what what was done, actually replicating what was found would be impossible. Three cists were found in the cairn, none of which are noticeable now. The structural stones of the chamber/gallery are quite tall, almost head height and there’s a lintel-like roofstone midway along. I get the feeling that the stones weren’t socketed as deep as they would have been in the original. Ivy is being allowed to grow over the stones making examination more difficult.

Overall the impression I get is that the excavators were quite diligent, but, once the initial task was completed, that was that. Mr. Quinn could continue his quarrying, his hotel has a garden ornament and life went on. But the story didn’t fully end there. For an alternative history, see the link in the folklore below.

Doon is one of those sites that would have you asking “why bother?” Practically destroyed beyond all recognition and shamelessly overgrown to the point where you wonder if there’s anything there that remotely resembles a recognisable megalith.

Here’s the Cavan Inventory entry: “Court tomb – Situated in rolling countryside just N of Ballyconnell. This is a dual court tomb set in a long cairn. It is somewhat overgrown by trees and bushes. Two galleries, set back to back, are both 9m long, and each is divided by jambs into three chambers. They are likely to have shared a backstone but this is lacking. Eleven stones remain along the combined N sides of the galleries and seven along the south sides. There is a single courtstone just beyond the southern entrance jamb of the SW gallery and another about 2.5m from the south side of the NE gallery.” And that’s it. Which is quite substantial in comparison to some sites I’ve seen, but seemingly not substantial enough to have found its way into the Survey of the Megalithic Tombs of Ireland, which is neither here nor there really, but I’d like to see a plan of what’s there and maybe come back in winter when the vegetation is less rampant.

So you’re not going to get much attention when 150 metres north-east up the hill is the wonder of Dún Ruadh, but hang on in there – there’s bound to be a nerdy old completist goon arriving soon in the next millennia or so. Absolutely underwhelming to my companion, especially after I had waxed lyrical about what was to come on the long drive up into deepest, darkest, wonderful mid-Tyrone, I loved this little assemblage of 5 stones, 4 still in situ, almost certainly the remains of a megalithic tomb. What type? I said probably a wedge tomb while on site, but now, on reflection, I’m thinking the remains of the chamber of a court tomb. But who knows? A starter to whet the appetite for the red fort up the hill.

Did you ever imagine a place and when you got there it was nothing like you imagined? Well, this was one of those places. Absolutely nothing like I imagined, which is no bad thing, because the surprises were a good enough consolation. I had to do a delivery near Ardee, maybe 60 kms south of here and just thought that I’d take in a few of the lesser known sites in the Louth, Monaghan, Armagh area and finish up here.

Ah, the best laid plans etc. All of the sites bar this were either no longer there, the fields were under crops or they were obscured by such a tangle of vegetation as to be unrecognisable. So I pushed on, crossing the Monaghan/Armagh border at Drumnart. Nearby at Doohat is a standing stone but I was moving fast and previous disappointments didn’t instil confidence enough to stop.

Through Keady and towards Markethill then north over the dam at Seagahan, a sharp right turn and then the third turn on the left, up to the prominence with the cairn. It’s all fairly rich farmland in the vicinity and the road scarps along the cairn on it eastern side. The northern part of the cairn has been robbed and the decorated stones that were reported in the 1700s are not to be found, but still it rises to about 4 metres from ground level at the south.

The views from on top of the cairn would be panoramic all around except the eastern aspect is blocked by trees. I stayed a while here in the sunshine, drinking in the summer buzz and lost for a while away from the mundanity. Then a local farmer woman happened along with her daughter and asked if I might move my car as her husband was moving cattle up the road soon and the spell was broken. Nice people, but I didn’t stick around as I was more than welcome to do.

It’s possible that I’d travel out of my way to visit this if it were more isolated, but in an area so rich with ancient sites, it could be easily bypassed. I hopped the field gate and inadvertently disturbed some grazing wild geese, probably domiciled in Lough na Crannagh 250 metres to the north. The mound is very truncated on all sides and has been used for field clearance. One stone remains standing on the eastern side, the rest thrown about the place. This is a survivor, just about, probably only because of the risk of prosecution, though I’m open to correction on that.

Lough na Crannagh can be approached from the north and the west from the well laid out Fair Head car-park looped trails. We had spun around to the opposite, east side as we’d wanted to check out the Teervillan wedge tomb/cairn on the way. Judging from the distance of our viewpoint, this may well be outside the normal range of sites posted here. Drystone walling, which the literature says is around the whole of the ‘island’, is visible on the southside. Crannogs are thought to be generally early-medieval but given the richness of megalithic sites in the vicinity, I think this is worth posting. The area is mostly quiet and very beautiful with just the occasional car or bunch of ramblers to intrude on your imaginings.

The peculiarities of the placement of passage tombs are particularly perplexing. Joking aside, if there is another as phenomenal as this I’ll be flabbergasted. Set 40 metres back from cliffs that are 150 metres above the channel that separates Fair Head from Rue Point on the southern tip of Rathlin Island 4 kilometres to the north, this is megalithic Antrim at its finest.

Towards the back end of this seemingly endless pandemic, we’re on our second visit to north-east Antrim in as many weeks. Six hour round-trips from Dublin are best enjoyed in the summer months and here we were in early August, the season fallen 6 weeks ago. The week previous the sun had been splitting the stones – not so today – low cloud skittered here and there as we tried to cram in as much as possible, not sure whether we’d manage another return trip.

Fair Head car park is situated in a farmyard about 500 metres south-east of the tomb. It’s a paid car park with an honesty box. The couple of quid we spent was well worth it – the car park is a trail-head for a series of walks around the head and the signage was educational and helpful. The walk up to the tomb is a mixture of road and then across rocky pasture with some well maintained stiles. Doonmore Fort is an interesting feature 300 metres along the lane, probable remains of a Norman motte. Beyond this Rathlin peeps over the horizon.

Arriving in the vicinity of the tomb I spotted the low circular cairn. The satellite map at the NISMR came in handy – this wouldn’t be easiest to find without it. The passage and chamber are small, but very well defined. The passage faces north, aligned onto Rathlin. The short walk to the edge of the cliff and the truly breathtaking view down to the sea and then across to the island is close to the finest memory I had on what turned out to be 4 trips to Antrim. The monument, though slight in comparison to some, is still one of those that tugs at the heartstrings, a reminder of what we once were, situated there quite lonely, ignored by most, waiting on you to rediscover and appreciate it. Stunning.

Two kilometres north-west of Cushendall is Ossian’s Grave court tomb in Lubitavish townland. The track that leads up to the site crosses the Glenaan river. Ossian’s Grave is sited on the eastern end of Glenaan glen’s southern side. We parked at the house/B&B 200 metres up the track and knocked to ask for permission. No one in the house so we headed on up. The hill is quite steep but easy going, beginning to get overgrown in late summer.

The field with the tomb has its own kissing gate and there’s the memorial to John Hewitt just inside of this. Then you see the grave, 100 metres into the field, and it seems to be perfectly placed on the prow of a slight ridge coming down from the mountain of Tievebulliagh, with its axe factory under cliffs 200 metres higher up.

The remains are all quite low for a court tomb, but no less compelling for that. The court is shallow and seems more embracing as a consequence. The two-chambered gallery is bisected by a pair of matching jambs and is maybe 3 metres in overall length. The views north-east up through Glencorp and towards Cushendun were calling us with the promise of more megalithic adventures up in Ballyvennaght. Ossian’s Grave was a good place to start.

Just beyond the western end of the megalithic wonderland that lies north of the road from Ballyvoy to Torr Head is this odd pair of stones, possibly part of a larger stone row. The stone that you first meet as you walk up from the gate is a magnificent Obelix-dimensioned menhir, almost 3 and a half metres tall. It’s not often that I indulge in a bout of stone-hugging but this one is irresistible, its surroundings probably adding to my sudden melancholy sentimentality. Its amigo at the other end of the church was quite possibly of equal stature, once upon a time, but not now – it seems to have been broken at some stage and is quite deformed, especially when compared to its buddy. Once again, I discovered more information about a site after I had returned and read up a bit more. Must do better.

About 400 metres east of north of the double portal tomb in the same townland, this is a mighty fine standing stone. Isolated on its own hill, rushes and and marsh grasses almost inundate it, but not quite – it’s 1.8 metres tall. If you were in the vicinity, it’s well worth checking out – the views all around are fine, though the day we were there, low cloud dominated and horizons were shorter.

This is not the easiest site to access. I had Fourwind’s guidebook with me in the car but neglected to read his directions for no good reason other than being scatterbrained and convinced an approach from Ballycastle Forest car park would be best. We had been in the vicinity a week earlier and had scouted the area a bit and this seemed the best. There were a few fences to traverse but sure when has that ever stopped us?

A track heads east and then south from the car park and skirts the edge of the forest. As the track enters the trees we headed up east along the edge of the forest through a couple of rough pasture fields. The two-dimensionality of the maps and satellite photos never prepares you for what’s ahead so the clomp up the increasingly boggy terrain was challenging if not wholly surprising. Once we’d reached the ridge and traversed the last fence we turned south and headed towards the monument.

There was no immediate sign of the tomb from 150 metres away. The floor of the chambers of this double portal tomb is nestled 2 metres below the ground level of a peat bog. As we got nearer, the top of the western capstone appeared and then, closer in again, it becomes readily apparent that this is an extraordinary monument.

We first skirted around the western end where the better of the two chambers is. There’s not much room at the front of the chamber, sealed as it is with a half-height doorstone. The southern sidestone has been removed and the remaining 4 stones keep the massive capstone propped up, though it seems to have slipped a bit towards the rear.

The eastern tomb, 20 metres from the western, is completely flattened. The capstone, 3.5 metres square, rests on the collapsed chamber stones. Mooching around the place I wondered what direction was the eastern tomb aligned – in the same direction as the western? But that would mean the entrance faced into the cairn. Cairn material is visible between the two chambers. So did the eastern chamber entrance face east?

Of all the many monuments in the large townland of Ballyvennaght, this is the best. I can’t imagine you would ever meet anyone around here – even the sheep seem to give it a wide berth. There are two more portal tombs here, plus a wedge and a court and a nice standing stone. Visiting all of these in one day would be a serious challenge, but now that I’ve been to them all but one, I think I know the best way to attempt it.

The worst of the three portal tombs in Bellyvennaght townland, we reached here from the double portal that’s about 850 metres to the south-west. As can be seen from the photos, the journey across the difficult, boggy terrain was barely worth it... and yet, what else would I be doing? It’s probably never going to be on many peoples’ agenda, and is therefore under possible threat through neglect and indifference, so in the end, on reflection, I’m glad we made the effort.

On a fourth visit to north-east Antrim this summer, we set our sights firmly on the cairn on Knocklayd and here, the passage tomb of Carnanmore on East Torr. Three times we had scouted the approach, once even contemplating a shot at it from the west at Ballyvennaght, the saturated, boggy terrain and the low, misty, drizzly cloud dissuading us from our madness. Tom Fourwinds, in Monu-Mental about Prehistoric Antrim, suggests parking at the road junction a kilometre-and-a-half north of the tomb and just below the passage tomb on West Torr and to approach Carnanmore from there. Sage advice, but we’d decided to stick to tombs relatively close to the road on our first trip (excepting Ballygilbert), not being very familiar with the locale, and then, on the following two trips, low cloud and sea mist acted like the curtains of a stage, teasing us but never opening.

Not today. Having earlier summited Knocklayd we decided to follow our plan and make for East Torr, this after watching the low cloud doing a dance around its cairn before finally evaporating in the midday sun. It was a different day to that on our first trip when there was not a cloud in sight nor any haze to obscure the thrilling views. This time Kintyre, Islay and Jura were hidden and Rathlin, scarcely 10 kms to the north, only partially visible.

Leaving the car at the aforementioned junction, we vaulted the gate and set off. It’s at or around the 255 metre contour with the summit at 379 metres, so a gentle 134 metres gain over a kilometre and a half, directly south. The first half a kilometre is relatively easy, grass-covered and firm. There are two fences to surmount, but both have stiles, the first signalling a change in terrain to boggier, heavier ground. After a while a north/south fence appears on your right – it was too tempting not to stick with this and, as it turns out, it points directly at the tomb.

The cairn emerges on the sightline about 300 metres away as you approach from the north. Excitement and anticipation start to really kick in here. I knew from Fourwind’s book and other writings that Carnanmore is special but nothing really prepared me for just how magnificent it actually is. The last fence hurdled as if it wasn’t there, the top of the tomb is hard to resist. I deliberately took my time, trying to slow the experience, but the first surprise of the site is immediate, the spirals on the stone behind the capstone readily apparent in the sunshine. A judicious splash of water revealed the delicate and very worn designs even further. The cupmarks on the next stone to the south are also readily visible.

The cairn is actually quite steep-sided. There are no traces of a kerb that I could see, but surely the combination of slippage and deliberate robbing has led to the top of the chamber being exposed. Entrance into the tomb was gained by removing the eastern, front portion of the chamber as it met the passage, the passage now filled with cairn rubble, its roofstones having been removed and thrown about the place. The chamber floor is accessed by clambering down the rubble in the passage. The removal of the front part of the chamber has exposed the magnificent corbelling in cross-section, the delicate nature of which seems to continue to exist due to the relative isolation of the location. Looking front-on at this and below, on the passage rubble, the two stones that support the capstone look like a winged spectre, guardian of the monument perhaps, demanding continued respect. The southern wall of the chamber looks to be deteriorating, with a void appearing behind the bottom orthostat and the corbelling it supports. It brought to mind the precarious state of the walls around the neck of the passage in Seefin in Wicklow.

Standing in the chamber looking out I wanted the passage to align directly onto the cairn on Knocklayd. It doesn’t. It’s possible Carnanmore has a summer solstice sunset alignment and it’s also possible that its construction predates Knocklayd, neither of which matters to us today. In the late summer sunshine my companion took a nap at the back of the mound. From there the terrain falls precipitously away towards the sea down at Torr Head. Try as we might we couldn’t make out Kintyre, the mass of which seemed like just a stones throw away from West Torr back in early July on our first visit. Sitting here writing this now, on reflection, a visit here was a good, if unplanned, way to bookend our Antrim adventures. And once again, a shout-out to Tom Fourwinds (Ian Thompson) for leading the way.

One hundred metres south-west of the court tomb lie the sad remains of this wedge tomb. Ruined and all as it is I loved it here, probably because, even though it’s so close to the road, it remains little known and most likely unvisited. In its original state it would have been a small example of its type, no Labbacallee this, aligned roughly west/east with the entrance at the west. There’s very little view in that direction, the forested terrain rising up to a low shelf and blocking the sightline. North-east is Cushleake Mountain North and north of that is Carnanmore, the late evening sea mist doing a revelatory dance around its summit.

Possibly the oldest of the many megalithic monuments in Ballyvennaght townland, it’s also possibly the best preserved as it’s deeply embedded in the peat. It’s about 1.7 kilometres south-south-east of the double portal tomb, the exposure of which shows just what may lie beneath. Alas, a visit here, though easy, is probably for completists only as there’s not much to see, save for maybe a dozen stones peeping above the turf with some scatters of cairn rubble.

This is a top site whose atmosphere is detracted from by the buildings of what I believe to be an abandoned weather station. The sea views on the beautiful clear day that we were there were spectacular: the Mull of Kintyre, 20 kilometres across the north channel looking like just a short hang-glide away, Islay and Jura directly north and the north-eastern corner of Rathlin Island to the north-west. Landward to the south is Carnanmore with its passage grave and south of west is Knocklayd with its cairn, also thought to be a passage grave. We was spoiled.

Much, if not all, of the 20 metres diameter kerb remains. The diminutive passage and chamber are aligned almost directly west, the chamber just a slight widening of the passage. The interior of the cairn is grass covered with lots of lumps and bumps, probably with many of the stones of the denuded cairn. It must have been an impressive sight in its complete state. We spent a while here, quite stunned by the views, and along with the sun and the clear blue sky forgot about anything man made and revelled in the nature of place.

Not much to add to minipixel’s observations – these are two really fantastic stones in utterly modern, prosaic surroundings, accessible in a roadside grazing field, beside the driveway down to some holiday homes. They really are well worth checking out if you can ignore the closeness of the fence and the dullness of the setting – the stones make a statement of their own, bulky and with a sense of permanence. The beach at the bottom of the lane seems fine – the Cushendall and Cushendun area is popular without being over-populated, yet.

“Can I help you?” asked the owner of the caravan park as we wandered over to the stone near the entrance. “Do you mind if I take a picture of that?” asked I. “Aha, you’re here to see the druid stone.” “Yes.” “There’s quite a few of them hereabouts.” “There is.” It’s at times like these that I’m glad my mate Thomas is with me, much better at talk of druids and suchlike than I. The stone, a large slab 1.8 metres tall and 1.5 metres wide (at it widest) is now being swallowed up by clematis and other garden plants. It’s not a bad garden feature – who wouldn’t like to have one – but I kept thoughts of breathing space and all the rest of it to myself.

Dunteige wedge tomb is 3 kilometres south back down the road, Ault or Gowkstown wedge tomb is 200 metres across the road and then there’s this, a 1.3 metre tall standing stone that may or may not have been a supporting stone for a megalithic chamber, other stones, now removed, having been reported in earlier times. Again Slemish sits on the horizon to the south-east. The baying hounds in the farmyard beside the field with the wedge tomb put us off attempting a visit.

I had only a short time at Dunteige wedge tomb. The field in which it lies was full of sheep and there were hordes of them on the road, coming down from the pass at Linford where we’d parked the car to head over to Ballygilbert. I didn’t think that they were going to come down this far but the sound of thousands of the little wooly feckers started to intrude on my visit after about 10 minutes.

The remains sit on a small rise north of the road. The ground falls away again before continuing to rise northwards up to Craigy Hill on the slopes of which is a court tomb (some other time). Much of the structure of the wedge tomb survives – double walling on the north side, with 10 large boulders on the outside, a narrow gallery/chamber, and double walling on the south side, though this is less visible as there in much cairn rubble in the gap between the chamber wall and the outer wall.

The tomb is aligned north-west/south-east with the top of Slemish just peeping over the horizon directly along the alignment. Though the site is fine it wasn’t great on atmospherics in the scorching sun and it was a mildly frustrating visit given all the sheep. I ended up running back down to the car as the white baaing tsunami come down from the pass in a torrent, escaping their killer clutches just in time.

We pulled into the parking place at the 279 metre contour along the Ulster Way on the road above Ballygally and Cairncastle. East-south-east from here is Knock Dhu with its promontory fort. Below its northern cliffs is a semi-permanent film set from the early episodes of Game of Thrones. The area is at the southern edge of the Glens of Antrim and the view east is fantastic.

We hadn’t planned on visiting Ballygilbert – we were on our way to Dunteige wedge tomb up the road – but I had Fourwind’s book with me and I asked my mate Thomas if he fancied a three kilometre walk to a surprisingly cool stone. He said yes and so off we set north along the way.

The way marked path crosses two peaks, rising first to Ballycoos at 361 metres, then down into a slight dip and back up to Scawt Hill at 378. I’d thought that once we’d gained Scawt we’d be almost there but no, there’s a steep descent north of the peak and the stone is another kilometre and a half further on. However, we had fantastic weather and the views were amazing and it was from the peak of Scawt that we first caught sight of Scotland, the Rhinns of Galloway visible on the horizon due east.

The ground is wild heathland and is farmed, mostly sheep but some cattle. Stiles allow you to traverse the walls and fences. We ploughed on, determined and blown away by the beauty of the views then gained the stone after about three quarters of an hour. And what a stone! It’s 1.6 metres tall, the top 60 or so centimetres a large bulbous glans. Fnarr fnarring aside this was well worth the effort. How a stone with this obviously phallic form has survived down through the ages given the religious bollocks (ahem) that has swept the land around here is one of megalithic Ireland’s happier tales. Awesome stone, awesome place.

Situated in a relatively isolated part of the large Ballyreagh townland, this was our last visit on a busy day. Back at Cloghtogle, Ann Orr had recommended that we visit this and mentioned that the landowner was friendly and very proud of the monument on his land. We’d just been down the road at the Three Stones and headed over as the sun began its long descent to setting.

Access was through the farmyard of the owner who duly agreed with a nod of the head and an away you go. The tombs sit on rising ground on the northern side of Ballyreagh Hill. With its covering cairn and kerbstones it would have been an powerful sight. Denuded and with its two, eastern and western, chambers exposed it still retains the power to impress.

The eastern tomb is the more striking. Two large, unmatched entrance portals dominate. The socketed sidestones with the segmenting jambstones offer a pleasing, almost perfect rectangular two-chambered gallery. I say this only because of the amount of places I visit that have been completely trashed. There don’t seem to be any remains of a forecourt.

The western tomb is longer but with lower stones. Again it’s a two-chambered gallery, but with a small ante-chamber. Most of the stones are satisfyingly bulky. There does appear to be the remains of part of the forecourt.

We stopped and sat a while here. Though it’s in a relatively isolated spot the effects of the vagaries of time are noticeable – houses, abandoned outbuildings, pylons and wires, the denudation of the tomb cairn itself. Some of the kerbstones remain and cairn rubble is visible in places and overall it’s a bit messy. Yet, as you move around the tombs, you can’t help getting pulled into the mystery of the place, drawn by the spine of the monument into skeletal imaginings of who built this place and what their lives were like, the stones retaining the power to amaze.

So it seems speculation is rife about these three stones. Are they the remains of a megalithic tomb? Are they an alignment (even though they’re not in a line)? There’s a handwritten note in the NISMR that speculates that on the smaller, more distant stone, there are scorings that resemble ‘the face of a man wearing a hat.’ Well that’s as well as maybe, but I’m going to throw my twopence worth into the ring and say that I reckon this is the remains of a ceremonial stone circle.

The stones stand on top of a hill, surrounded on all sides by higher ground. However, about 4 kilometres directly to the south, through a gap, is Topped Mountain and maybe it was our visit there earlier in the day, or my previous reading that Topped is thought to be the focal point of many of the monuments in the area, but I couldn’t help feeling that this may have been a small ‘temple’, used by the locals to ‘worship’ that sacred hill.

Silly speculation and nonsense over, this was the highlight of our day (so far). The sun had emerged fully and burnt away the mist and low cloud that had tracked us all day. We had decided up at the disappointing Glengesh portal tomb that we’d try for 2 more sites on our way home, this one and the dual court tomb 2 kilometres up the road in the same townland. If you’re in the vicinity, or passing though Tempo, I’d recommend a quick diversion to here.

Not much to report here. A very ruined and trashed tomb. I had leapt the field gate and headed north-west up the massive field, under pasture this year but the satellite shows that it has crops some years. The remains are not visible from the road – they nestle over the brow of the hill and over the next, smaller one too. I was 400 metres into the my quick dash before I realised there was livestock in the field, a few uninterested cows and their largish calves, right beside the tomb. Bored and placid they may have been but I’m never too comfortable intruding in their cow-lives.

There are 4 socketed stones and with a few other broken looking ones lying around in a small area 8 metres by 3. How they came to the conclusion, without excavation, that this is a portal tomb is a mystery. I didn’t stick around. Another one for the completists only.

What a peculiar place and odd stone. Known locally as the Garranbane Stone it sits halfway up a small, steep hill/drumlin the summit of which is tree-covered. We pulled in at the side of the road and I headed up. The bullaun, if that is what it is, is carved into the side of the stone, a huge glacial erratic I presume, and has no ability to hold water. The rim of the bullaun looked suspiciously pronounced enough to add to my doubts. It’s maximum diameter is about 22 cms. I suppose I’ll go along with it being a bullaun and suitable fare for here because of the two pieces of folklore attached to it: that the stone itself was thrown from the summit of Topped Mountain by a giant; and that if you’re suffering from a headache, if put your head into the bowl you will be cured. An oddity but worth a visit.

Beside the driveway of a farmhouse, this very small cist-like chamber is said to be the remains of a wedge tomb. We pulled up at the farmhouse and were met by the delightful Ann Orr who takes an interest in all things archaeological and is very proud of the rich amount of prehistoric monuments in the locality.

The roofstone nestles over 4 slabs and the chamber is open to the north-east, an unusual occurrence in wedge tombs. I struggled to get a good photo of any part of this tomb, especially the inside of the chamber. The best part of our visit here was meeting Ann.

The better of two standing stones within 150 metres of each other and said to form an alignment onto Topped Mountain cairn with the stone in neighbouring townland of Mullyknock or Topped Mountain 150 metres to the north-east.

Unremarkable wedge-shaped standing stone, said to form an alignment onto Topped Mountain cairn with the stone in neighbouring townland of Cavancarragh 150 metres to the south-west.

The supposed focal point of many monuments in the area, this is a massive cairn over 30 metres in diameter and over 3 metres tall. It may have been taller pre-excavation in 1897 when a bronze age secondary cist burial was found.

There’s a car-park to the peak’s south-east beside Toppedmountain Lake. The climb is brief but steep along a maintained track. The cairn sits at the southern edge of the domed peak of the mountain. The views all around are magnificent and this seems to be a popular spot given the erosion on the monument, the track seeming to continue right on to its top.

We spent a while here on what was a warm and low-cloud, misty day, exploring the various rock outcrops. Views east into South Tyrone were best, the view to the Erne basin obscured by haze.

Less than 100 metres and over a fence to the east of the wedge tomb is this robbed out cairn. Lough Skale to the north is even more prominent from this on slightly higher ground than the wedgie. The ruins are still pretty well defined, 13 metres in diameter and about a metre tall. The western arc is better preserved. There was once another cairn between this and the wedge tomb but there are no traces of it left.

The tease that was Mountdrum down the road left us eager for more. This fine wedge tomb is in a boggy field that seems to be experiencing ‘improvements’ – here’s hoping they look after the monument. We pulled up opposite and chatted to the friendly local man doing a bit of gardening. When I told him I would like to visit the tomb in the field he reckoned the owner wouldn’t have a problem, but he was curious: why that one is particular? I really struggled to explain and the best I could do was: because it’s there. He did say that the area is full of this stuff. He wasn’t lying.

Like at Mountdrum, the tomb retains a roofstone at its eastern, back end. I always wonder in situations like this why they left the one stone. It does look cool and dolmen-like. Though it is overgrown at this time of the year, the relatively well preserved gallery is apparent. Again, I was struck by the atmosphere of the place. Foxglove, normally odious bracken, tall grass, even nettles and gorse, all combined to shroud the tomb in nature’s mystery. There is a good amount of cairn material still here and the remains sit smugly into the mound and the wider environment. Lough Skale is 150 metres to the north and is visible from the tomb. Well worth checking out.

100 metres up the lane from the car-park beside the field with the wedge tomb remains is this complex – a triple concentric-ring stone circle with one alignment and another stone circle with two alignments. However, I’ll have to take the word of the literature on this because there is very little to see as, again, this place has been neglected since the information boards were erected and the place properly fenced off.

Having said that, this place had a powerful impact on me. I struggled to make out anything discernible, save for the eastern arc of the triple circle. And yet, as I stumbled around through the sphagnum and briars and heather, wild orchids and multitudes of grasses, the mystery pulled me in, mesmerised me a bit and I played around with the skulls of two sheep on the low stones of the western circle, almost revisiting the magic of childhood. There’s really very little to see here, but feel the power.

We arrived at the signposted Mountdrum Archaeological Complex as two massive tractors barrelled down the lane onto the road. I stopped one and asked if we could drive up the laneway and was the site accessible. Sure off you go – there’s a car park there too. Result!

I believe that Mountdrum once had pretensions of being a mini-Beaghmore type attraction. What with the peace-dividend money from Europe and some local enthusiasm, the land with the sites was bought and fenced properly and some signposts and display boards erected. And then that seems to have been that. Two wedge tombs, two other unclassified megalithic monuments and three stone circles and their attendant stone rows and alignments are now left to the vagaries of the gorse, grass and sphagnum moss.

Heading straight ahead from the car-park and down to the left where the remains of the wedge tomb and another unclassified megalith you can see where there used to be a track. This is now getting overgrown and the scant remains of the unclassified tomb are sad indeed. Maybe there was a court tomb here once upon a time. The area is generally boggy but relatively dry in early July.

The wedge tomb retains a good degree of charm. A line of contiguous stones remain on the north side of the chamber. There’s a roofstone over what seems to have been a small subsidiary chamber at the rear, east end of the tomb. The whole area has a forlorn feel, not always the worst sort of vibe for me. There are said to be the remains of some circles, alignments and another wedge tomb in this same, first field but the place is too overgrown now and I’d say wouldn’t be any more navigable in winter.

There is minimal parking space on the southern flank of the mountain at the bottom of a tarmacked track. The track is used by the services to maintain the large aerials on the spur that overlooks Newry to the south-east of the peak. From what I can see, using the older OS map that I have, this track used to be drivable for the general public, a bit like that over at Sliabh Gullion, but no more. No harm anyway – it’s a relatively leisurely stroll to gain the aerials and an overall height gain of about 250 metres from the parking spot.

We reached the knoll with the aerials after a brisk half hour stroll, some of which is a tad steep. Views east and south-east towards the Cooleys and down Carlingford Lough begin to open up as you climb. On reaching the aerials it’s best to double back on yourself along the track that skirts the southern side of the knoll/spur. This leads to a boggy track that heads down for a bit and back up to the summit.

Bog cotton fluttered in the strong breeze that had built up as we climbed, mirroring the fast-moving clouds that threatened to disperse at any moment but never did. The up-turned pudding bowl that is the central peak of the larger Camlough mountain spread is enticing, pulling you higher.

The cairn probably promises more than it delivers. It’s very ruined. I’ve added it here as a chambered cairn but I would tend to agree that it’s probably a wrecked passage grave. Some of the large stones visible on top of the remains have that very orthostatic feel. I would guess that in its pomp the monument was at least twice as tall as it is now. The ‘desecration’ of the timber cross is highly intrusive and unavoidable.

The views to the north, east, south and south-west are all fantastic. Gullion, the mother of all the hills around here in the ring, looms away to the south-west. I couldn’t make out its southern cairn so can’t rightly say if it and this are intervisible. Might any passage that existed here have been aligned onto Calliagh Beara’s tomb? Maybe. About 80 metres directly west of the cairn is a small platform that seemed to have been flattened out as some sort of ceremonial space – but this is just more speculation. I had hoped that Cam Lough itself would be visible from here but alas no. You have to head another 100 metres more to the west for that view to open up.

Belleek (Béal Leice, mouth of the flagstone?) is a small village midway between Camlough and Newtownhamilton in Armagh. South of the village in the first field on the right on Shaughan Road is this interesting stone.

The field had been harvested recently and the farmer had begun to spread slurry so it was pretty ripe in the heat. Is this the flagstone that the village is named after? Maybe, maybe not. It’s a 1.6 metre tall slab and has flaked and chipped in places which could lead one to believe that it’s not all that ancient.

The views south-east towards Gullion and north-east towards Banbridge are fantastic. The hill rises to the west so the view is blocked there.

Another site that I’ve been unable to locate a couple of times previous. It’s on the northern slopes of Sliabh Gullion about 3 kilometres south-west of Camlough town, as the crow flies. The area is gorgeous and wild, mainly sheep farming territory.

The stone stands in a little enclosure about 100 metres east of the boreen. It’s about a metre and a half tall and leaning to the east and wonderfully phallic. The top seems to mirror the peak of Sugarloaf Hill about two kilometres to the north.

Another roadside Armagh tomb. Been here three times before and never written about it. Don’t know why – what an absolute corker of a court tomb and what a location. I was heading back home from a mate’s gaf in Castlewellan and was on a recce for the cairn on top of Camlough mountain and had to stop by.

It’s sits there on the southern flank of Camlough, part of the broader caldera that is the ring of Gullion. There are three parking spaces on the road at the front of the tomb but I guess you could hike here from Newry, about 3 kilometres away as the crow flies, a tad more than that up the winding road.

The tomb was excavated in 1962 and restored after excavation (I’ve posted a link to a pdf of the excavation report – careful, it’s 80 megs). Like a lot of the tombs in state care in the north it has its own enclosure. Unlike at other places this is unobtrusive, the result of the tomb being on a hillock and the fence being sunken away from the sightline.

The construction is fantastic. The gallery sits in some of in its cairn, the outside of the sidestones hidden. On the west side of the second chamber the first course of corbelling is still in situ. The jambstones separating this second from the rear chamber are wonderful, if a little tight for my Dad bod.

The court faces north up the hill so the views here are restricted. Not so to the south and west – the large mass of Gullion itself lies to the south-west. South-east are the Cooleys. Directly east are the Mournes with Donard about 35kms thence. The monument is popular but has never been crowded the times I’ve been there – you could probably have the tomb to yourself if you hung around as most visitors that I’ve met only give it a cursory once over before moving on.

With its own parking spot and two information boards Legananny dolmen is a well-known tourist draw in the mid-Down area. However, it is in a quite isolated spot, well off the beaten track and is generally quiet and peaceful.

The tripod dolmen misnomer (were they ever meant to be viewed as we see them today?) is shared with Ballykeel in South Armagh not too far away and comparisons are hard to avoid. I find Legananny more satisfying, even though the setting is a tad more claustrophobic with the farm buildings so close by.

The view south down the lane towards the Mournes was spectacular today, the sculpture (for what else could you describe it as?) taking on all sorts of shapes and characteristics as I moved around it. Denuded as it is it still retains a power and majesty all its own, mysterious and captivating. I stayed a while, managing to forget the pressures of a busy life, lost in appreciation, and awestruck by the beauty of it all.

Livestock in the field stopped me investigating what turns out to be a relatively well-preserved court tomb. It’s close by the road that is east of the mass of Slieve Giullion and is dreadfully overgrown with gorse.

I couldn’t enter the field because of mares and their foals but this stone looks to be about a metre and a half tall and the field borders the Newry river to its west.

Worth a quick stop as you pass by. Beautifully set above Lough Brickland just off the Belfast to Dublin road in what is said, on the SMR, to be a potato field but was under pasturage the day I was there. Seems king Billy stopped by on his march to the Boyne all those years ago according to the commemorative plaque – maybe he was after the spuds. Pity about the massive flagpole beside the stone but hey, we know where we are.

I knew this would be bad but not this bad. Two stones remain standing on one side of a gap between two fields. On the other side is a pile of boulders, one of which is said to remain in situ. What evidence that any of this is the remains of a megalithic tomb is beyond my understanding. I’m glad I stopped by but I won’t be back.

This was most definitely the highlight of a mixed bag of a day. Things had started out sunny and warm but by the time we found Clyhannagh it had been raining for about 4 hours. I’d been at the bottom of the track that leads to Clyhannagh three times before, never knowing that it’s actually publicly accessible. I knew, sensed, that the place would be special, but had always retreated.

The area has Marble Arch caves and the Stairway to Heaven walkway up Cuilcagh and can be quite busy but it’s still otherworldly. We passed by again and bounced over to Belcoo, beaten by the lack of a parking place on the very narrow road. I felt deflated, disappointed after the success at Doohaty Glebe. We saw the bullaun at Templenaffrin and decided to give it one last shot. Arriving back at the track the two visible gates were open. Ah, the joys of a 4 wheel drive.

Two hundred yards up the track we met some locals and asked their permission to go visit the megalithic tomb. The what? Yeah, well it’s a five thousand year old burial tomb. Don’t know it but sure go on ahead, you can keep going all the way to the other side. Right – thanks. See yez. Three more field gates across the track and we’re in Burren-like territory – in fact the Cavan Burren is only about 2 kilometres west of here. It’s nowhere near as eroded and grykey here as it is in Clare and the area around the tomb is farmed – bullocks roamed and there are a few old farm buildings – but the place is wild.

The tomb was only re-discovered in 1970 and the archaeological survey says that it’s covered in hazel scrub – the good news is: not any more. Who cleaned it up and why matters little – I’m just glad they did. What remains is a dual court tomb aligned almost north south. There is little, if anything, remaining of either court but both galleries retain plenty of character – though there is no stone separating them, their distinctiveness is clear with a gap in the sidestones midway along their 8 metre length. The southern gallery is the better preserved.

You could be a million miles away from so-called civilisation up here, yet Blacklion and Belcoo are only a couple of miles to the north-west. Almost directly west of the tomb is an unnamed mountain, an outlier from the Cavan Burren hills further west, separated from it by the meandering Marlbank road, the long horseshoe that wends its way up from the Florence Court Road, past the Caves and various other attractions before diving north again past the Marlbank viewpoint above Lough Maclean Upper. It’s a strange prominence with cliffs and corries but very climbable in places, and for the life of me, I can’t find its name anywhere [edit 2-3-23 – Knock’s Hill]. It dominates the terrain around the tomb and, it would seem to me, was an important consideration in the placement of the monument by its builders.