postman

After watching Rupert Soskin’s Standing with stones episode on the Isle of Man I tried to look up the enigma that is the Devil’s elbow, sadly it was not on here, but fortunately was on the Portal. Combining information from the portal with the streetmap facility on here I was able to pinpoint it’s location, and if I were ever able to get to the ace place that is Man I would go.
It can be quickly glimpsed above the A4 to your left when going south, but I did not know that, so I asked for help from a bloke who was gardening in his front yard, he pointed it out right behind me, feeling slightly foolish, we drove back north parked in a car park on a bad bend and walked back to the farm track that leads up to the cairn.
The gardening bloke said we could probably sneak or ask for permission to have a look, but there was no house and no one to ask, so we followed the winding track up the hill until the big cairn was right in front of us.
For the most part it really is just a big cairn, maybe eight feet in height, with an odd step at it’s lowest part, but it’s little hidden gem is on its north side. A large chunk of quartz juts out at a vaguely jaunty angle, with an open space below it disappearing into the mound. I squeezed myself on my back through the gap and found myself in a squarish chamber made entirely of quartz, room only for one or possibly two but only if your both very much in love if you know what I mean. I didnt stay in long, getting out was harder than going in and I’m now quite dirty.
Standing atop the mound I can see far off Ireland and Scotland, and to the south is Peel castle (also worth a visit). I do love getting to places that Ive been waiting a long time for, almost as if the waiting makes the arrival all the sweeter.

Entering Laxey from the south on the A2, follow the main road past the big water wheel, as you leave Laxey look for the burial chamber road sign pointing left down a thin lane, it will quickly appear large and obvious on your right, parking can be tricky.

After a wait that can only be described as too lengthy I finally arrive on the Isle of Man, after a quick stop at a beer selling shop we go straight to King Orry’s grave, a site name that to me epitomizes big famous sites Ive yet to see. Upon arrival the five of us pick a seat around the site and settle down for a drink, apparently now a tradition.
Not since Brittany have I seen a such a neatly suburbanised burial chamber, snugly squished into a corner by two very close to houses. The lady who lived in one of the houses was doing some gardening which entailed her walking through the site, she told us it was a nice day for it, we had to guess what “it” was, but agreed that it was anyway.
Neatly and snugly are merely polite ways of saying brutally banged about by uncaring housing and road planners, the back yard of the house to the south and the road through it are a good six feet lower than the stones, who on earth thought it was good idea to gouge a way through it like this?
Across the road and behind a house is what looks like the rest of the site, perhaps a later extension to what was already there, or a totally other site ? who knows ? Not I, but I enjoyed it all the same.

I parked in what I reckoned to be the obvious place, in a layby on Rochester road south east of the stones. Walk back to the junction 200 metres, then turn right up the tree lined old straight track, Alfred would have liked that one. Then left off the track and I’m at the stones.
This one impressed me greatly, taller and bigger than I’d anticipated and the sun drenched view across the Medway valley really capped it off.
The railings still rankled and don’t get me started on the information board, too late.
Only supervised children are allowed here, metal detectorists are not allowed supervised or not, damaging the site is quite rightly not allowed, where is? Commercial photography is prohibited, whats the difference between commercial and not commercial?
But the coup de grace is a smoking ban at the site, how would they police that, and why would they. I duly ignored it by rolling the biggest doobey Kit had ever seen.

So who was Kit and what is a Coty?
TMA poster Vortigern reckons a Coty is another word for a house, I can buy that, but he also says Kit was Catigern, who lived after the Roman occupation and apparently came from Wales, any other takers?

I’ve been putting off a trip here for decades, because of one or maybe two reasons, London and the M25. I’m definitely not a city boy, I don’t even like being a townie, but hey there’s a motorway round it so you don’t have to go through the big shit hole. Which brings me to the M25, my first go on the ring road lead me to miss a ferry crossing to France, second go had me sitting in traffic desperately trying to not run out of petrol, and now my third try, it lived up to expectations by being closed at the one junction I was going to use forcing me through Slough, no one chooses to go through Slough, it is London in miniature, because it too is a shit hole.
But eventually, after a 5 hour plus drive I pull into the free car park for Coldrum longbarrow, and immediately the day and my sanity got better.
Its not far from car to chamber, a few hundred yards at most.
Then amid the trees in their pretty autumn colours I stand next to Coldrum, I’ve seen it on telly, Neil Oliver stood right there and told me all about the place, well not all. I didn’t know about the polishing stone, a kerb stone apparently used for sharpening blades or something.
The big chamber jutting out of the barrow reminds somewhat bizarrely of a star wars spaceship, it blew up in the opening scene of Phantom menace.
Several people came and went whilst I was there, there are many angles to see it from, but most people just pass it by.
The site has two information boards one says rightly that its a longbarrow but the other one says its a stone circle which it certainly aint. Coldrum suffers from an identity crisis.
What are the stones at the bottom of the barrow below the chamber for? why is the chamber so high up? crazy place. When 6000 years you reach not so good will you look, to keep up the star wars theme.
I also wondered why there are no wider photos of the site, it’s because of the lane to its east, which is bordered by two tall hedges making any “in it’s landscape” photos nigh on impossible.

All in all a terrific place to hang out at on your birthday.

My first attempt was cut short by the distance from the car, wife and small children are only prepared to wait so long.
Second attempt was thwarted by the local farmer and a policeman, bangin’ on about lock downs and pandemics or something.
Third time was the charm.
I was on my own with no legal problems, the only problem being the long walk, i’m philosophically opposed to them. The big hill that is Blakey Topping comes into view early on, I keep making for that, I’ve no firm idea where the stones are but assume I’ll be able to see them from on top of the Topping.
Fighting my way to the top through the bracken was arduous, stopping every ten yards to scour the hedgerows for the stones, still no idea where they are.
The view from the top of the Topping was most agreeable, I sat at the south east end and zoomed the camera here and there looking for the stones. I did see some, I assumed they to be them, so I skipped and stumbled back down to level ground, keeping my distance from the cows in the field, they obliged me by keeping their distance also.
Upon reaching what I thought was the ruined stone circle it turned out to be an old settlement building or something, a weird structure was in it, a circular dip, concrete lined with a boulder in it, this wasn’t it so I kept on searching. Memories of other peoples pictures has it by a hedge, so I made for the hopefully right one and followed it round, there was a large stone in the hedge, trapped by two wire fences, I’m getting near, is this an outlier maybe. Reaching the gap in the hedge the circle was finally revealed to me, elation, or something close to it.

So this is a stone circle is it ? Map only goes as far as standing stones, I shall be more charitable.
There are five stones, one is the gate posted stone, there is a fallen stone between the gatepost and the tall stone, there is the low recently (2012?) re-erected stone, and the stone in the hedge. I presume this to be four stones remaining of a stone circle with an outlier twenty or so yards south.
I sat for a while with my back to the fence taking in the still leafy scenery, it’ll be bare and drab all to soon, bah! I hate winter.
I’d only payed for two hours in the car park by the Hole of Horcum so I had to bid a fond farewell to the stones and take my leave, on route back to the car I kept turning back to look at the stones and the hill, why couldn’t I see them on my way down, oh well, sometimes you cant see the stones for the rocks.

Loudon Wood stone circle was my initial destination for our party of five, but we failed to get anywhere near it (another one for next time) and with only so much time I took us to Aikey Brae instead.
Aikey Brae was much easier to find, there is room for two cars which is good cause Eric has a car now too. We walked up the track, turned right at the appointed place and blamo, stone circle.
Our party of five consisted of my two lifelong erstwhile stoning partners Eric and Philli and their two partners Laurence and Megan and me. We got in among the stones and sat down for a while. I’d already explained about RSC’s the other day so no lessons in stone circle typology needed. After the strange orange spot spider got googled, I needed to take some photos, round and round I went, all the trees have now been cut down opening the splendid view up 360 degrees. I tried to get up onto the tallest tree stump but fell off backwards, there was blood and pain and a little bit of embarrassment. Eric climbed up for me and snapped the pic, another one was taken by Philli sat upon Laurence’s shoulders.
Aikey Brae is a superb site, not even slightly overgrown, good long views, and easy to get to.

Its been a really long time since I was last here, so long that I have no digital photos of Elva Plain, it must be near twenty years. As I remember I parked right near the farm and asked permission to park there while seeing the stones.
This time I parked on the road just outside of the little Rake Wood, walked up the road, turned left and up to the farm, at 6.15am there was nothing doing so I walked on through to the field with the stone circle, and applied myself to the seeing of stones.

The weather had been very favourable for the last few days, so standing at a stone circle on the spring equinox with a clear blue sky, I was cock of the rock, twirling in absolute splendor. On the western horizon the near full moon sank into a pink haze, it reminded me of a spring equinox at Ystumcegid in north wales many years ago, funny the effect a sky has on ones mind.
While I was zooming at the full moon the sun broke into song behind me, I twirled once more and hurriedly crossed the circle, photo photo photo. At last, a successful equinox sunrise, you, me and the stones, it’s not as good when one of us is missing.

During the sunrise there was much birdsong, except for a skylark and blackbird I’m pretty ignorant of most of natures calls, but one stuck out in particular, it wasn’t a bird, it was a Gibbon, it was doing it’s morning territorial whooooooing and wowwwwwwing, a welcome addition to whats shaping up to be one of the good stony days out.

The sun burst out of a notch on the horizon, made from a shoulder of Skiddaw and another hillside further away. The hills frame the whole western view, it made me wonder whether the sun used any other notches at either end, for solstices.
But then looking behind me to the west it looked more of a sunset oriented site, a clear sight line to the sea, not ten miles away.

The stones are low, possibly all knocked over, a couple of stones are mostly underground just breaking the surface like a small stone whale. By the biggest stone, half a dozen smaller stones huddle together for security, as if the bad man might come back again and another stone would go astray. If they could all be spread out once more the aesthetic of the circle would be much improved, but it is what it is.

Bewildering sunrise dealt with I set about adequately photographing the circle, it’s about now I should mention the rocky protuberance on the top of Elva plain hill, like Fitzcoraldo before me I saw it and thought “oooh proto temple”. Should such things exist, that could be one.
With camera on tripod and extended to it’s fullest I wander round hoiking it up in the air for an elevated picture of the stones. It works well.

On my way back to the car I surprised a small child in the farm, he wasn’t expecting to see me that was for sure, his two dogs didn’t seem to mind me and I tipped him my disarming smile, perfected over several decades of trespassing, I do it for a living you know.

All previous posts have no positive words on getting there, so I put it off for years and went elsewhere, until today, its the spring equinox today, and after a successful sunrise at Elvaplain stone circle I felt today was the day to go.
I did what the previous posts seemed to suggest and approached from Drybarrows farm. I couldn’t park near the farm because of all the signs written forbidding me from doing so, so I had to squeeze the car in on the little east to west road north of Winder hill. It was precariously parked, but with what looks like a long walk (just over a mile)to the stones I wanted to get as close as I could. Walking through the farm was the worst bit, trying to get by without bumping into angry farmer (they’re all angry, they may not always show it, but they’re all angry on the inside) all those negative signs on the road made me feel unwanted. But got through the farm I did, and out onto the open moor. There are lots of paths going this way and that, trying to stay on the one that would take me to the stones proved impossible. It wasn’t long before I was well off the right path and climbing Little Birkhouse hill, the view over Haweswater was pretty good, and I was sure I hadn’t passed the stones yet so I carried on, up Great Birkhouse hill, from there I skirted round the south side of Fourstones hill, and there they were, to me they were in profile and looked like one stone, so I still wasn’t convinced I was there until I was right upon them.

Standing at the stone pair the view is joyous, on the nice scale it stands somewhere between very nice and I need to sit down. The reservoir is an imposition on the landscape, there would have been a river down there in the past, it’s just a lot bigger now. The way the sunlight speeds across the countryside, lighting up the distant hill sides, I sat down.

So what happened to the other two stones?
Was this a four poster? or a four stone row?
Or were the four stones the remains of a bigger circle?
Answers on a postcard to.......
The stones are quite different, the smaller one sits in it’s eternal pool and is kind of triangular and leans towards it’s partner, the taller one is a long robust pillar. From the stones about 100 meters north east is the cairn, the two are not intervisible.
I get back up and start circling the stones, after many many photos, I go for a little walk about, get some height and perspective change. I drop back down right onto the cairn, it’s quite a good one, large and stony and with a shallow scooped interior. Its time to go, with my car parked where it is I’ve spent too long here.
On the way back I follow the footpath more correctly and miss the farm out altogether passing by to its south and east by several hundred meters, I wish I’d gone this way first.

If you intend to see all of the lake districts ancient remains (A list) the two stones at Fourstones hill are a definite must see, the view will astound and the stones will confound.
But getting there is still a pain in the......

It’s been a long time coming but it’s finally happened, Tow top Kirk and me, together at last.
I’ve been waiting for a considerable while and it’s taken a sunny equinox Sunday to get my act together, but together it is, and here I am.

Parking is easy, the road has a wide flat grassy verge between it and the wall, room for a dozen cars, but today there’s just two, ones mine and the other, well lets just hope they’re not going where I am.

The footpath is on the south side of the road and leads one south west towards Cawdale beck, an interesting big stone cantilevered looking bridge crosses it. Then on the other side it’s up the high steep bank and onto the open moorland, the circle is visible from the top of the river bank, about 50 yards distant.

So, this is another of the lake districts possible henges, I saw another last year on Halloween, Dovedale Henge/settlement, it’s hard not to compare the two and all the other henges I’ve seen. The circular....ish bank isnt high, its only a few inches higher than the surrounding ground, like Dovedale there is an entrance at the west end, I could not see the entrance at the east side as it’s much more worn or the grass was too long. There’s a giants handful of small boulders inside the enclosure in its north west corner?

Apart from the west entrance this site is nothing like Dovedale henge, it’s in an unremarkable position, the bank is very low, and there’s no big stones. But I think this site has more going for it as a henge than the other. Talk of it being an old Christian enclosure I can only echo Wideford and Fitzcoraldo, Whats a christian enclosure, when have churches ever been circular, makes no sense to me.
Because it lacks the interior ditch of a henge, it had the feeling of an unfinished henge, maybe, in short I dont know what it is but because I’m a supporter of prehistory I lean somewhat automatically towards a ritual site, a Henge.

After a quick look at a sodden Kirkstone it’s a short drive down the road into Hartsop, the car park is on the left. It is about a mile long walk along the lake that is not a lake, (there are no lakes in the lake district) Brothers Water, covered mostly by trees, it was in this autumnal beauty spot that I saw my second ever Red Squirrel. I’ve only seen two, both seen while out stone hunting, a movement off to my right drew my eye, but it was only a grey squirrel, but there half way up a tree behind the grey was a bright red Red Squirrel, I even got a photo of it, not a competition winner, just proof it happened.

After passing Hartsop Hall its into a field and over a river, thankfully bridged. From the Dovedale Beck you cant see the henge, just some big rocks over looking the river, but from these rocks you can see the henge.
What a site !
The biggest facet to this hidden gem of a site is High Hartsop Dodd’s northern sloping ridge, formidable and ominous it keeps an enduring eye over the whole site. The big rocks, some are on the henge and some are seemingly set into the bank, some are small, some are huge, some are confusingly in the henge itself. The henge has half gone, only the west side remains, there is an entrance.

I now have to do that thing that I have to do, not that, climb up the hill of course. With such a big hill right next to the henge I’d have payed to go up that hill (shshushsh!).
The view was really something, on the nice scale it nestled nicely somewhere in between not bad and very nice, plenty of scope for numerous superlatives there.
I went high, high enough for it to occur to me that if I went higher I would be more technically mountain climbing than stone hunting. So I sat and watched the world, it wasn’t doing very much so I looked long and hard at this henge of ours.
Just a few yards outside of where the north east sector would be is what looks like a round cairn, ruined but observable.
But the henge, was it really a henge? where has the other half gone? why are the stones where they are? some in some on the bank, some in the enclosure, it makes no sense. But if it was just a settlement why are they mucking about with these big stones? The placement of the site seems hengish, cornered in as it is by rivers and hills, but were the Neo’s as occupied with water as much as the bronze and iron ages?

I left the place puzzled and uncertain, I want it to have been a henge, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that out that it was, but I found myself coming down slightly more on the side of settlement in the end.

I don’t get out as much as I used to, for a variety of reasons, I’ve gone from twice a week every week, to maybe half a dozen times a year. But there are days and there are special days, when a special day comes round I have to go out and see some stones, this special day was Halloween, if you’re going to see something, shall we say, “a bit spooky” its going to be today. My true destination is the Dovedale henge down the road, but seeing as I’m passing and there’s a car park and all.....be daft not to.

I parked in the actual car park just north of the stone and began my arduous trek back up to the Christian meeting house monolith (trying to limit my use of the word church) It’s not all that far but up here today the weather is a touch on the wild side, strong winds and sideways stingy face rain. Slipping and staggering I get to the stone not a second too soon, just as I got there the rain really poured, had I not been on the dry side of the stone I’d have been soaked to the skin in seconds.

The Kirkstone is a big natural monolith, not as big as a worshipers holder though, and only from the north does it look like a chapel type building. Today’s congregation of one beholds the Kirkstone with a weather beaten jaundiced eye. Yep big stone looks like a church from over there. On to the henge.

There are plenty of parking places, three that I can see on Google earth, I parked on the west side and followed the obvious and worn path straight to the top. Passing the flattened ring cairn to the junction of paths, right takes us to the stone circle, the biggest on Dartmoor. Left takes us past the often disappointing Giants grave and friend. Keep going, past confusing mortar pits until you get to the cairn circle. Bosh, done.

Apparently this site confuses some people, is it a small stone circle? a cairn with a stone circle or even a hut circle? an enlightened chap called Jeremy Butler said this “it is unparalleled among the numerous cairns on the moorland massif only a short distance to the west, emphasizing the very localised nature of some cairn designs”. The confusion arises I think because of peoples need to pigeon hole all monuments, everything has to be of a type, it’s all got to be named, give it a name and we can add it to the list of known things.
Mardon down doesn’t care about your wants or needs, it is what it is, but, what is it?
It’s a wondrous thing, that’s what.
Big stones in a small space.
Looking north away from Dartmoor the views are long, sit around and wait for the sun to come back out and the whole scene is just brilliant.

In the end, I think it’s a cairn with some very pronounced circle stones, it reminded me of the very distant Bryn Cader Faner.

There are loads of cairns up here, some are more cairnish than others, the ring cairn type one the big stoned kerb cairn, the grassy bump type and the stone rubble with a pit in type. But, the latter is not a cairn, there is one on the circumference of the stone circle, that’s not a cairn, there is one by the Giants grave, that’s not a cairn either. They are both in fact mortar pits dug by practicing soldiers waiting for D day in WW2. Perhaps a more poignant type of monument than most cairns, or perhaps not.

Just south of the Metherall settlement there is an east west running stretch of road, nice and straight, with a parking place on it’s south side and a gate leading to a track into the forest.
Walking south west along the track it bends to head in a more southerly direction, immediately the trees on the left open out into a clearing, there are two hut circles here. The first one is quite good, short grass neatly trimmed, a few big stones, lounging in the shade of some fine Beech trees. Turning we find the second hut circle, this one is definitely a house not a hut. West facing entrance, big stones all the way round, with a weird shelf like thing inside the wall, possibly a second inner wall?. Then back to the track.

Just thirty meters up the track a clearing opens on the right, there are no hut circles here but there is a big oval of knee to waist high stones, I followed it round wondering what it could be, I could only come up with the remains of a pound. Back to the track and in another clearing across the track are the other two hut circles. The lower of the two is the vaguest of the four huts, not much to get excited about. But the fourth is quite the looker, made of big stones, next to a small drift of big stones. Map says one of these circles is a cairn circle but this is another hut, I think they got it a bit wrong, there are just the four hut circles, but they are good ones and should be sought out if nearby with time to spare.

Please note, only the hut circles in the reservoir are from the Metherall settlement, all the others are from East Lowton settlement four hundred yards away to the south. Park in the car park just west of the Heath stone and head towards the reservoir looking for a building on the shore by a jetty. The partially submerged hut circle is just east of the jetty under some trees. At the time I didn’t know there is another three or four totally submerged hut circles, but the one we can see was enough to generate my interest in all the hut circle settlements around here.
Whilst I was sitting and wondering some ponies came over for a look at what I was doing, one of them was seriously suffering from joie de vivre, it was prancing about the place like a right nutter.
If you look down on the place on google earth you can see another hut circle right next to it but mostly under water, some stones are poking above the water, but you cant tell theyre from a hut.

I’ve seen the hut circles on the map, but largely ignored them, like almost everyone else, so after a lengthy trip in and around Fernworthy forest I head off to find them.
As I approached the parking place I looked up to the right and saw the stones of the front wall of the hut circle, why haven’t I spotted that before? Because I wasn’t looking!
Car parked, it is barely a minutes walk to the hut circle. It is actually just one of at least seven hut circles all within a hundred yards of each other, it is also by far the best of the seven.
All the stones used in the hut are big, bigger than Fernworthy stone circles stones. Like the stone circle somebody with a strimmer has been around here and meticulously tidied them up. But not all of them.
The big ‘n’ best hut circle is built into a presumably later wall, if you follow the wall round you’ll be brought to the next hut circle, its not as good as both it’s nearest neighbours. A round platform cut into the slight hillside with stones showing only on it’s south side, a small standing stone is just outside the hut, I assumed it was an entrance stone with a fallen partner just feet away in the rubble of the wall. A bit further up the hill is the third and fourth, both good examples, neatly trimmed, lots of stonework. A bit further on is the fifth, less lovingly cared for but still quite good, the sixth is barely recognisable and the seventh only a slight dish in the heather, you’ll need to get your eye in if your going to find number seven.
I really liked it here, the biggest and best one closest to the road is an epic place to sit and ponder things like the distant past the shapes of clouds or the rumbling of tummies, I’m hungry!

I’ve been aware of this standing stone for absolutely years, but Kammers words of recommendation seemed to ring loudly for me, he said he had to cheat to get there by driving up a forestry track, he didn’t like it. Instead he advises on a walk across the mountains to get there. So that’s precisely what I did. It’s been bloody hard work and I’ve yet to retrace my steps in order to get back to the car.
Coming down off the “other plum” I could see that some tree felling had occurred since Kammers visit, now the whole place would be harder to navigate and the little stone in a big landscape would be all the more harder to pin down. My one crumb of hope was the stone is near to a meteorological station which would I hope be easier to find. After more walking (ugh, wheres my electric mountain bike) and less height I fancy I can see a place that might be that long word place, fixing my zooooom lens and having a look I can see a large white thing and a tall slim pole like thing. That’ll do, I make for those, and when they go out of view I make for the lake behind them.
It is at least all down hill, so pretty soon I’m standing right beside the standing stone of my dreams, and it is gleaming.

The large white thing is indeed Carreg Wen, the tall pole thing turned out to be a dead tree, the meteorological station is actually very low and all but out of view.
Going through a gate the stone is on the left, standing beside it is an information board, I was fair gobsmacked to see that all the way up here. Not much information though, it glistens, it was erected by bronze age miners who are buried on the hill tops, not much.

The stone is no longer surrounded by beautiful life, growing, breathing, wondrous living life, instead is a scene of destruction, all the trees are gone and replaced by a war like scene, death and destruction. Despite that extreme negativity the stone is still vibrantly alive and gorgeous to the eyes and the hands, it was all I could do to refrain from lying down with the damned lovely thing.
Thing?she is a lady, and I will refer to her as such throughout.
She stands a little over six feet tall, depending on which side of her your standing on, squarish, her southern side flat, straight and with a mottling of lichen. All around the rest she is smooth perfect white quartz, smooth except where the crystals angularity juts out unfairly this way and that.
Have you seen that Giant crystal cave deep underground in Mexico somewhere, Carreg Wen has a micro version on her east face, get up close and see the crystals sparkle and twinkle. She is a beauty.

I sit for a while, back against the information board, then I start to hear things, first voices then an engine, I stand up and peering over the broken forest I can see men, men on motorbikes, strewth how long have they been here? It’s a good job me and the lady didn’t get intimate, they’d have heard her for sure, then it would have quickly turned into a Pink Floyd song, I sit back down and roll a fat one. They soon put-put back off down the forestry track and we’re alone again, I had thought we were alone already, but no matter, because I just felt a rain drop on my arm, I am not dressed for rain in the mountains so I pack up and give her ladyship a big hug and bid her a fond farewell. My what an attractive stone, it’s like the Earth gave birth to a star, go there and see her twinkle, no don’t look at her twinkle just be amazed at her beauty. A stone like that is worth a dozen hill top cairns.

The long walk back to the car was torturous and murderously long and slogging, I’ve never wished for alternative transport more than then, just thought I’d put that out there. Jeeves send for the helicopter.

Pen Pumlumon-Arwystli, fits in the mouth nicely, doesn’t it, I just called it the “Other Plum”.

So..... heading east down off Pen Pumlumon Fawr, highest peak in the Cambrian mountains, one firstly comes to a large walkers cairn that sits on level ground on a saddle between two peaks. Leaving the cairn for the unnamed peak that sits just north of Pen Lluest y Carn, I carry on over it and come into view of the mountain I’ve yet to climb.
The path takes you up and behind the big hill and will go right on by unless you leave the path and purposely seek out the top, just keep looking left for the top of a cairn, it was about fifty yards from the path.
The first cairn I get to is the southern of the three cairns. It has a hollowed out interior, and is comparable in height (about 6ft)to the central cairn it’s nearest nieghbour. But the central cairn is bigger in square feet I think. A shelter has erupted out of its eastern lower flank, making the whole thing look like a stone octopus tentacles draped over the hill top.

Darker clouds are growing in the sky, I eye them with disdain, I’ve definitely not dressed for rain, getting a move on.
The third cairn is again the smallest of the three, two mountain tops next door to each other, both with three cairns, both with the northern most cairn the smallest, can’t be a coincidence, surely?
Mountain top done I start to look for the way down to Carreg Wen the white stone of infinite clarity. I see the way, and go that way.

Pumlumon, seemingly one of Gladman’s favourite places, I’ve never been up myself, I’ve only ever driven by en route to somewhere else, and there are plenty of other places to see, places that don’t require a £5 parking fee or an eight mile round mountain walk. Doing the job that I do which necessitates vast amounts of walking I am well and truly turned off by walking, it is I feel massively overrated, so Pumlumon wasn’t really in my targets, or on my list, I got over my mountain addiction in Snowdonia, it took some time, there was cold turkey for sure but I got over it in the end.
But once a site is on my list, then it’s on my list, there is very little I can do about it, I have to go, I need to see it all. You cant just watch one Star Wars film, if you liked Encounter at Far point, you’ll love All good things, you may not know what I mean, but in short I want to see all the places I want to see, and if I don’t I’ll be really disappointed, and there are still a few places round here I want to see, one of which is Carreg Wen, a lovely big pure white quartz standing stone, an albino menhir. It is not easy to get to, so I decide quite uncharacteristically, to walk over at least two mountains to get there, fortunately for me they are not bland “just another mountain” mountains, they’ve both got multiple cairns upon them, the rivers Severn and Wye both rise in the vicinity, and Gladman really seems to like it round here, so here I am, trying on the Cambrian mountains for size, and getting to a place I’ve longed after for ages.

There was a lot of traffic on the roads, everyone seemed to be making for the coast, it was a nice day, so hopefully i’ll have the mountains more or less to myself. Getting to the car park I find that it is a privately owned car park and costs five pounds, in cash, and I’ve only a card, who carries cash nowadays. So I have to go back to Llangurig to look for a cash point, there isn’t a hole in the wall, but guess who came to the rescue, the Post Office. Money attained, a quick drive back to Eisteddfa Gurig, car parked, old lady payed. I’m on my way, up.
It starts off quite easy, a gravelly track is followed all the way to the old mine, you’ll know when you’ve got to the old mine, it rather sticks out. Just after the dirty git that is the old mine, the footpath veers off the gravelly track left heading straight for the summit of Pen Pumlumon-Fawr, though it is hidden from view for a while yet.
This is the part of the walk that I like least, it’s not all that steep, it’s just the uneven ground, it makes it all soooo much more taxing, I found myself wishing for one of those electric mountain bikes, I’d really like one of those.
But after not too much grumbling and staggering along like a drunkard I attain the summit, yippee I’m at the top, and as predicted, I am alone.

The big main central cairn is heavily eroded, sadly, by the hand of man, the trig point is erected on its northern side, and two wind breaks have been made out of the stones, one of which is quite far from the original structures position. I crumple into a heap, sat with my back against the trig point, and just sit staring at the views and the cairns all about me. Then I take food and drink, and sit for a while longer. Then I set about photographing. The southern cairn doesn’t have a hollow interior, it is all quite together, which is a massively nice surprise. Right now three men also attain the summit, but they soon move on, do they not know they’ve just climbed this ranges tallest peak, they really don’t hang round long at all, just two minutes and they’ve gone. With the wide summit ridge back to myself I wander slowly over to the third cairn, it is much smaller and lower than the other two. Something I was about to find mirrored in the sister hill across the way at Pen Pumlumon Arwystli. So, another mountain to climb, with cairns, until I can get to my true destination, Carreg Wen..... the Albino stone, off I go.

From the Grey Mare and her colts go back to the bridleway over the stile then turn left and keep going on a north westerly heading, when the track takes you to two hedges either side of the track and there is two gates on your right look for the Kingston Russell information board. The stone circle is through the gate away from the information board. Pretty easy, what went wrong Carl?
Hopping over the gate I stroll as nonchalantly as I possibly can, i’m even typing this carefully because that is one big herd of cows over there, and I’d appreciate it if they stayed there. During my nonchalance I extended the tripod for another bout of hoicking. So a hoicking I go, walking round the outside of the circle clockwise, noticing as I go, my only companion, Hardy’s monument.

It looks like none of the stones are still standing, the largest stone has erosion marks on it like none of the others, like it was pulled out of a river. The immediate area is very flat, which is why I’d chosen this site as an equinox sunrise for this morning, but I’d have gotten here too late. Which is a maddening shame because it is a perfect site for a sunrise, or sunset, someone closer should get onto that.

It’s not a great stone circle, but it is a good one and having been there gives me a warm feeling inside, it’s now half past midday and I’m behind schedule, and very hungry, it’s time to seek out another sort of warm feeling inside, en route to site number seven, strangely in the middle of the town of Dorchester.

From the Valley of stones, a very aptly named place, I head south west on Bishop’s Road until the road forks and I go right, and park at the gate with cattle grid. Take the right hand path to the Grey Mare and her Colts, a very inaptly named place.
Follow the path with the hedge to your left,in the corner of the field go through the gate for another twenty yards then left over a stile follow the hedge that’s right in front of you until you get to a gate, go through it and there she is, looks nothing like a horse.

I immediately take shelter behind the stones away from the biting cold, I am no longer using the dog blanket as a cloak but instead have wrapped it round me then put my hoodie over that, it’s more practical and less stupid looking, still cold though, wish I’d brought my coat.
Sat behind the tallest stone i’m right next to what is left of the chamber, one stone is still in situ as it were, the rest is a bit of a jumble, I was unable to tell if the larger stones were chamber side stones or capstones or a dollop of both. Also right next to me in my hunched up position is a low stone with a hole in it, the significance of which utterly evades me.
Out of the cold I extend my tripod to its fullest, then emerge from the comfort of the nook I’d found and circle the tomb a couple of times taking photos from 11 to 12 feet in the air, it’s not easy and may take a few tries and if anyone sees you you might look a berk, but it is I think worth it. The pursuit of a new angle and all that, speaking of new there’s a stone circle a little over half a mile from here that I’ve never been to, Kingston Russell, lets go.

After having been to the Hellstone and Hampton down stone circle I drove north and parked at the space by the junction of Bishop’s Road and National cycle route 2 Road. Not as eloquently named that one.
Passing through the gate, or was it a stile? I can’t remember, just get into the field with an information board then head down hill following the most worn path you can find. The Valley of stones is on your left just another stile and your there, you are entering the valley from it’s north east.

I mostly pass by the drift of stones passing the curious circular structure higher up the east slope until I cant take it anymore and dive straight down into them,
Among the most notable stones in the meander are large flat boulders with cup like erosions on the surface, boulders with coffee or rose coloured flint extrusions, a stone with a hole in it, and a stone circle, of sorts.

I’ve not been here before, clearly my one and only trip to Dorset twenty years ago was a bit of a rush job, a cursory glance at best. I passed the Valley of stones by in favour of the Grey Mare and her colts.
This is much better, time to wander and time to ponder, and the wind cant get me down here, but the dog blanket is still being my cloak ‘cause it’s still cold. After having sat and stared at the “stone circle” I get up and walk the stone arc back and forth, in the end all’s I can say is one stone in the circle is a boulder practically bristling with rosy caramel flint, it’s just about the prettiest stone I’ve ever seen, and I didn’t get the stone circle feel from it, more of an enclosure of some sort, it has an entrance, and no where for the western arc of stones to go. I guess it could be Iron age.
Also, this is the place people came to to take stones away to build stone circles, it would be like going to B&Q and building your patio right there in the shop. Or perhaps not.

After having retraced my steps from the Hellstone back to the car, it is straight across the road following the footpath sign saying Abbotsbury hill fort. Unfortunately the fort isn’t on my itinerary but this is also the way to Hampton Down stone circle. Improvised cloak wrapped fully round me and with the hedge to my right acting as wind break this is as pleasant as walking has been this morning. Following the hedge on my right, leads to a gate with a sign on it, the sign is for the stones which are now at my feet. That was easier than I anticipated.

Most of the stones are pretty low but hefty boulders, made of the same flinty stone as places I’ve yet to see, the two at the south are largest. In past years summer growth drowns the site completely, so I’m pretty lucky to see it in such good apparel. The view south reveals Chesil beach again, and north once more to Hardy’s monument.
With less wind because of the close by hedges, I remove my cloak and get the tripod out. I’ve not yet been to a stone circle that didn’t benefit from an elevated photo of the site, so I hoick it up and try to keep it still in the wind, not easy, but always yields good results. This was site three out of the hoped for twelve, and my first site of the day that I haven’t been to yet. I liked it.

The path to the Hellstone has indeed changed, I parked in the aforementioned layby, left the road opposite the farm going through a gate, there were cows in the field so I kept to the left side of the field. This leads to a stile, which in turn leads to a path between two fields, when one whole field has passed on your right, turn right, over the fence at a makeshift sort of stile. then it’s up the gentle hill to the stones.

Even though it looks like it’s been restored by someone who clearly didn’t have a clue what it was supposed to look like, the Hellstone is still a pretty awesome thing to see. From on the mound by the stones you can see Chesil beach, Chesil means shingle, pebbles, it is the longest shingle beach in Britain. In the other direction a heath covered hill has a tower on it, Hardy’s monument, Nelson’s mate, not the poet, the monument is a handy orienteering wotsit, you can see it from almost all the sites i’m getting to this morning.

My coat hasn’t magically appeared before me and it is terribly exposed on these hillsides so I have wrapped the dogs blanket off the back seat round me in an effort to fend off the icy winds. But it really is too much so I retreat into the dolmen and take a seat huddling for warmth. Boy do I not like the cold.

After having a long look round the tombs interior, there is nothing else for it but to brave the weather outside, I didn’t spend more than ten to fifteen minutes here, I really am a plonker. The wind is making a mockery of my improvised cloak, whipping it up and over my head, rediculous.
But the Hellstone is awesome.

It’s surprising how quickly three months can pass, it’s already equinox time again and I thought I’d make a proper long old day of it. Twelve sites in twelve hours, a touch ambitious possibly, but I’ve neglected to bring either of the kids, which will help, and the car though small and slow has been faithful so far.
The plan, such as it was, was to witness an equinox sunrise from Kingston Russell stone circle. There’s just two small problems with that, the actual equinox was yesterday, and I’m apparently a slow driver, because i’m not going to get there in time, I blame the poor state of British motorways, roadworks for mile after mile. Poop!

So I pull over early at the Nine stones, I haven’t been here since before the big tree came down, it is not the only difference.
I parked at the farm building fifty yards down the road, walked back to the stones down the not dangerous at all road, and found no way to get to the stones. The stream was too wide to jump easily, the bridge is gone and the gate, there’s no way in this way.
Back to the car and I drive a bit further down the road away from the stones, there is some new work going on, a housing estate possibly, I parked by the road. Passed through the fence with the red sign that says something like footpath closed and made my merry way off through the field.
It’s about now I should make note that I have once again forgotten my coat, it is windy and cold, I really don’t like being cold.
Having crossed the two fields, I arrive at the stones, here among the trees it is at least less windy. The circle is as lovely as I remembered it, with not much deviation from the original I reckon.
The two big stones, being entrance stones perhaps, meaning the stone between them is not in it’s proper place, are two simply stunning stones, with huge amounts of chocolate rose flint showing, and a small colony of Harlequin ladybirds. Nice.

It’s not easy to get the moment of sunrise and all the stones into the picture, first of all you have to be on the other side of the enclosing fence and there is a hill side in the way as well. So, not good for equinox sunrises, or winter ones, the hill would be even more in the way, but summer solstice would be fine, if you can cut down a few trees. I did say I was going somewhere else for the sunrise.

After failing to see a sunrise, staring closely and intently at the tall flinty stones, and walking round in at least a dozen circles, and this and that, it was time to go get my next stoney fix. So off I go to Hell, there is a stone there.

It’s been a long time since I was last here, I find myself saying that quite often these days, it was before my digital camera era, my daughter was in nappies and my son wasn’t even real yet. So, with daylight waning I headed to Knowlton Henge for an equinox sunset, which was yesterday, some things never change.
I managed to find my way to it without the comfort of an O.S map, it’s marked on my road map and that was just about enough. Only two cars were parked at the entrance so I easily squeezed the mobile isolation unit in and I hastened to enter the site.

Twenty years ago this summer was my last time here, with my wife and small daughter, it was a warm late afternoon, swallows swooped, bees buzzed, small daughter toddled around half naked chasing the dog, we sat in the grass, partaking, wondering at the perfectness of it all.
A million years later.....
I’m here on my own after one of the longest stoning days ever, i’m very tired, and core blimey it’s cold. The occupants of the two cars have taken up residence on the henge bank with tripoded cameras, waiting for the sunset. I was shouted at once by a fat crusty woman for walking on a henge, I wonder how many henges she’s been to.
The memories of an old man are the deeds of a man in his prime, some one once said, I often wonder if my obsession with seeing stones is born out of those few perfect summers with small children and love in the air, with all these new places to visit with fewer worries. Maybe.

Having wandered slowly about the church I was naturally drawn to the pair of Yew trees by the eastern entrance to the henge, I’m guessing they’re about the same age as the church, Yew trees are awesome, they’re practically immortal, the church can collapse and the henge wear down, but the Yew trees would still be there. The trees are close enough together to form a kind of plant cave who’s walls are covered in cloots, if that’s what we’re calling them, coloured ribbons, often with messages written upon them, I have no strong feelings about them one way or the other. But I do like Yew trees.

I stand upon the henge bank with the other photographers, keeping further apart than two meters I can tell you, I’ve been practicing social distancing for decades, I’m very good at it.
Watching the sun slither down in the sky shining brightly through the dappling cloud, it was quite nice. Still cold though. As the sun got lower all manner of folk turned up to share the spectacle, most notable was a bloke with five, yes five Red Setters which he then let off the lead to charge around uncontrollably.
One of the photographers, with prolonged use of the F word, was audibly upset.

But it was all water off a ducks back for me, i’m not expecting bucolic yesteryear flawlessness, i’m not expecting anyone to take my wants or needs into consideration. I’ll just be glad to have a better sunset than this mornings sunrise and a safe and uneventful and uninfected drive home wouldn’t go amiss either.

It is still a difficult place to find, there are no signs pointing the way until you are at the small car park. Leaving the B4449 west of Stanton Harcourt head south following signs for the Recycling and waste centre, it is a dead end road, just keep following the road without deviation. As you enter the Recycling centre there will be a small car park immediately left. Use eagle eyes to pick out the small sign saying Devil’s Quoits. Follow the path alongside of the big lake with birds on it until the henge and stones appears to your right. Bingo!

I didn’t really know what to expect from this place, it’s newness, it’s fresh out of the box feel could have been overpowering, the landfill site right smack next door to it could have been suffocating. Both of these things are an inescapable part of the Devil’s Quoits, but they should not put you off from visiting. People are passing by all the time but they are just folk out for a nice walk by the lake with lots of birds on it, they did not intrude upon my solitary musings.
So I start a walk round the stones, as it happens anti clockwise or widdershins, the first two things one notices about the stones is that some are really quite big and all of them are a lovely Cotswoldy yellow in colour. Other things one notices are some stones are quite small, one stone is outside the circle, pointing in, Clive Ruggles says it has no astronomical function, but the information board ignored him and said it does. One stone near the west entrance is clearly a few feet within the circle.
As I approach the east entrance I go for what I assume is a little trespass, through the earthwork over a not fence and up the landfill hillock with big valves on it. A good view of the entire site can be had from here, though the knowledge of what I’m standing on is a little stomach churning.
Back in the circle I carry on my unfavourable circuit of the stones, one stone a smaller one is strongly grey, standing stark against the yellow/orange of the other stones. I wonder who chose which stones go where and how they settled on this format. Mind you I wonder that at most stone circles, but the mind behind this lot is still alive and approachable.
Back at the entrance I have a quick look at the information board, it is, unsurprisingly, informative.
Either side of the entrance are some large stones that must not have made the cut for some reason but then got left behind, spares? The henge is slowly, or indeed quite quickly being eroded by burrowing rabbits, I have not seen such bunny destruction in a very long time if ever, the cute little darlings should be annihilated without mercy.
All too soon it is time to go, but my time here, was, I felt, well spent.
Upon my return to home I found out that not all the stones were modern replacements, at least three, including one of the big ones are original Devil’s Quiots. Strangely (or not) this made me feel a little better about the site.

Eric and I didnt have a problem getting to the site, I parked by the house next to the footpath, there were two stiles I think and there we have it, but we didn’t, oh no, no sign of it at all. It should be pretty visible by the hedge but it was gone, I began to doubt my sons stone finding abilities. Hadn’t I taught him well?
I couldnt see it where it was supposed to be so we went past it til it was obvious we’d gone too far, then went back down the hill, then I walked past where it should have been to the end of the field, still nothing. So I jumped a hedge or two and found an older couple walking their dog, apparently they knew where the burial chamber was, I walked with them til we got to a point where they said it’s in that field there through that gate up against the hedge. Perfect, that’s the field I’ve just come from, so I went back through the gate went straight to the top of the field and walked slowly back down, poking about in the undergrowth, and yaaay there it is, I think, more than poking about is needed here, it is almost completely invisible. About now I begin to wonder where Eric is, did he follow me into the other fields or go back to the car?
I set about clearing the brambles, ferns and long grasses, I have no shears, no scissors, my teeth are pretty blunt so I trample as best I can while being torn to shreds. I got six photos in then the brambles tripped me over and my camera went inexplicably misty, two more unsatisfactory photos and I have to admit that I need to come back and do it properly, but god knows when that will be. I have run out of time, I have a date tonight, a date with the force and light sabers, a galaxy far away brings me back to normality, and a long drive home.

My daughter is in her second year away at university in delightful Stoke on Trent, I miss her terribly, but I needn’t worry about her as she now has a boyfriend to look after her, and he does. When she is home, twice now she’s asked me to drive her down to his house so they can be together. This is a double edged sword, he lives in Wales, near llantwit Major, South Wales, just about as far away from us as is possible whilst still being in the country next door. But on the other hand there are plenty of stones round here that I haven’t yet had the pleasure of because they are so far away. The first time I took her down I dropped her off and went to see some cairns on the edge of the Brecon Beacons, this time I took the time to go in and meet his mum, but she was out, so I hugged the daughter and said goodbye, then Eric and me went off to find some stones.

I don’t own the map that I need to find them, but I took some photos of the online map and Eric has his smart phone, so I trust in my 17 year old son and head off north towards Bridgend.
A lot of traffic slowed us down but in the end he took us down some narrow lanes and suddenly said stop, were here, are you sure I said turning to look at him, and there they are through the window beyond him. Ok well done say I.

I remember reading Gladmans scathing report of the site, lots and lots of rubbish strewn all over the place by the sounds of it. So I’m a bit apprehensive.
There is a broken information sign hiding in the bushes but I don’t think it’s for the stones, I climb the gate and enter the field.
Immediately I’m relieved to see there is no rubbish at all, but the double edged sword comes into play once more, this is still farm land and there is a massive pile manure not twenty yards away, but being anosmic this only offends mine sight. Between the stones and the manure is an unnavigable muddy quagmire, a treacherously unpassable sea of shit and earth, cows come here every day to feed and pass through the gate, it is a disgusting mass.
No rubbish though.

That all being something or other the stones are pretty fabulous. Standing closely a certain distance from one another, about five feet tall, one stone a tall and somewhat pointy stone leans only very slightly, but the other a broad round topped stone, it’s lean is considerable, without being very exact it’s lean is perhaps 55 degrees from the vertical plane.

Nice stones,
Bad mud and poo.

Tis but a short walk from the B3135 to Ashen hill barrows, and about the same again to the Nine barrows. The first two we come to are separated from the other seven by a wall and over a hundred yards, one is quite low and the other has suffered at the hands of time two large scoops taken from it’s interior.
Popping over the wall, the next barrow reached is a very low barrow compared to the others, barely a couple of feet high, the next one is taller. I move along the line this way and that, the barrows vary in height. The last two are the most interesting, the penultimate barrow has a ditch round it, possibly a bell barrow or something. The final barrow is right at the top of North Hill, it might even be the biggest barrow, and someone has built a not unattractive stone circle on it’s summit, pilfering stones from the adjacent wall, as any welsh farmer will tell you, that is how it’s done.
Off to one side away from the line of barrows is one more, so in all taking them all (Ashen Hill)into account there are eighteen barrows up here, it is an astonishing place, every bit as interesting as the line of henges and massively more visitable.
Come here!

I parked on the B3135 opposite Harptree lodge then walked back up to the gate opposite the southern henge. Hopping the gate and walking across the field the barrows cut a very impressive silhouette against the skyline. I head to the far right hand barrow first, back home i’d drive a hundred miles to see a barrow like this, there’s eight of them here, well seventeen or eighteen actually but......
I stand atop the western barrow and look along the line of barrows, six are in a line but the far eastern two are off line and curving the line to the south. I make my way along the line going round this one up the next and round that one. It’s worth noting about now the view to the south, almost paradoxically to North Hill and it’s group of nine barrows, prosaically named Priddy Nine barrows, that one must have taken a while.
Ashen Hill barrows are every bit as cool and impressive as Priddy Nine barrows, I just wanted to say that, I don’t know weather it means anything to anyone but I’d heard of Priddy nine barrows but not of Ashen hill barrows, and I should have.
Having said that I gird my loins and stride of to the nine barrows.

Fortune favours the old.

This years winter solstice has obligingly fallen on a Sunday for me, quite a feat as any other day and I would miss it, so even though I’ve been at work before 5am all week, I’m happy to get up even earlier and drive the drive on my own down to Somerset, and seeing as I hit fifty last month, happy chance benefits the aging.

Even though I went too far on the M5 and ended up going the long way round Bath and Bristol, I still got to the custom made car park for Stoney Littleton before sunrise. But it was full, a motor home gleefully took up half of it and five cars took up the rest. Consternation.
I knew there would be other people here, but I expected to be able to park. So I did, in a one car space along side the road further up. Then I walked back to the car park, crossed the little foot bridge, and went up the hill.

It’s been such a long time since I was last here, so long ago that I don’t have any digital photos of the place, it was a winter solstice that last time too, but it was a grey day and the sun never showed up. So with a mix of blue sky and fluffy whites I was feeling pretty fortunate. As I pass the sign pointing to the mound I can see there are indeed other people here, A guy with a cowboy type looking hat stands atop the chamber, as I pass over the stile I start to hear things, a heart beat? the rhythm of the universe perhaps? I approach the entrance of the chamber, there’s a woman in an oilskin coat, we nod at each other, the noise is louder now, the heart beat has quickened, the pulse of nature? No.
It is a twat with a drum, funny, there was a plonker with a drum here last time too, and he spoke like a Bristolian too, grooooan does he come here every year and take up the end of the passage, I think this is the case.

So, bereft of the best seat in the house, I walk round the structure, stand on top of the structure, then pick a spot to stand by the entrance and wait for the sun. It finally arrives at about a quarter to nine, quite late right? The chamber is on a slight hill looking up the hill, so you have to wait for the sun and when it gets here it wont be a big beautiful orange ball, but rather a bright white light, this presumably was intentional, they didn’t want the faint wan light of first rising, but the strong light of a risen sun.
Just then a bloke erupted from the chamber, he looked at me, I looked at him, then I looked at the open entrance, and in I go. My chamber was the first on the right, opposite me was a woman, the mate of the bloke that just left, then she left, uncomfortable alone in the dark. Further into the passage I suspect each chamber has a body in it, the drummer takes up the back of the passage, the best seat in the house. An older man then comes past me making for the light at the end of the tunnel, so I move deeper into the chamber and take up a seat in the middle left chamber. The sun is doing it’s thing, it looks phenomenal streaming along the passage and lighting up perfectly some twat with a drum, I decide upon some photos and then exit the chamber myself, am I reborn, can I see the place in a new light, hard to tell, so I go on walkabout to see the place from a different field. Up hill the walk takes me, then round and then back, not a long walk, always keeping the chambers entrance in sight, when I get back it’s all empty and I’m alone with the edifice, I get into every chamber, and finally take up the best seat in the house. It’s wet, dripping, they were definitely not sitting on the floor. Oddly, maybe, the bit I like best inside the passage is where it narrows to the width of a slim man, me. Purpose made.

From the summit cairn of Bleaberry Haws (Follow directions for stone circle) I head off towards the big mountain the “Old man”. First a strange linear feature is crossed, it’s named as a dyke but it’s exact function is I presume being guessed at.
Another hundred yards or so in the same direction is the cairn. A cairn, after several thousand years can take on a different shape depending on what’s occurred there, some more pleasing to the eye than others. This cairn to my eye is very pleasing, the depth of the hole at it’s center, the height of the cairn, the percentage of clear stone to grassed over stone, the fabulous views, the nearby rocky outcrop, all these things make you just wander round it, staring in wonder, sitting and staring in wonder. What a wonderful place.
Off to the ring cairn now.

Follow directions for the stone circle and then just head up.
Crowning the summit of Bleaberry Haws is a small modern walkers cairn but it sits on a much wider obvious bronze age cairn. The views are spellbinding in all directions, but it’s the Old Man of Coniston that holds your attention. While looking towards the Old Man bring your gaze down to ground level and in the distance is a cairn to which I’m off to next but between us is the odd linear feature or Dyke.

I’ve been putting this one off for literally decades, there always seemed to be bigger fish to fry, and a long, perhaps difficult walk to seven little stones. Little stones or not, it’s a stone circle, i’m going to have a look, one day. That one day ends up being today, well, over a week ago now.
It’s the weekend of the autumn equinox and I’ve been out and about all day, this is site number five and the last port of call today. Desperate to make an easier job of it than Fitzcoraldo did, he definitely seems to have gone the hard and long way, but at least at the end of his notes he suggests another route, the quarry track to the south west does look better.

I was hoping to drive up the track a bit but the gate was locked, so I had to park at the entrance and walk up it. Having arrived at the tracks left hand hairpin, we depart right, cross over a low point in the wall and head towards the grassy hill that is Bleaberry Haws, directly behind the grassy hill is the Iconic south Lakes mountain The Old Man of Coniston.
It doesn’t take long before the summit isn’t far off, although the summit is where i’m heading it isn’t where I’m looking, the mountains are pretty over powering attracting ones gaze and keeping it, i’m falling about the place whilst not looking where I’m going, but just then, over to my left I can see some grey blobs just above the grass line and I know I have found the stones. I without doubt let out a little whoop.

The stones are certainly small, seven in number and unequally spaced suggesting missing stones, perhaps only a couple though. I sit for a while on the largest stone drinking in the grand mountain view, it’s also pretty good in the other direction down to the shimmering waters of the Duddon estuary and the Irish sea. This place has me incredulous, why did I put it off for so long? I absolutely should have been here before now, but being here today with such perfect weather, not a cloud to be seen, or perhaps there was a cloud or two but my sunny demeanor just edits them out, nothing could mire this sublime moment and place.
The only thing that could possibly have made it better is Scarlett Johansson insisting on holding my hand throughout. Failing that the Old Man will do.

The stone circle isn’t the only ancient site up here, there’s a cairn or two a ring cairn and some sort of Dyke thing, so that’s where I’m off to now, starting off with the summit cairn north east of the circle. But Ill return to it on my way back to the car.

I’m here, the enthusiast has arrived (See Treehuggers fieldnotes).
Mr Hugger was right, the walk was not easy.
Walking is really overrated, I try to avoid it where ever I can, to that end I drove the car up the very often bumpy farm track, and when that ended and turned into a forestry track I drove up that too. In the end I parked at the south edge of Blengdale forest, by where the map says homestead, saved me a couple of ankle twisting miles, but there was at least four more to come.
The walk through the forest was easy enough, a good if up hill track, straight as you like. Until it ends at the River Bleng, where there is no bridge, I doubt the river gets much lower than when I saw it, you could, if fleet of foot stepping stone it across, I turned left and saw a gate across the river which I could shimmy across, you don’t get much chance of shimmying these days so I was glad of the opportunity. Once across I walk back down the river until I’m opposite the footpath that brought me to the river, I couldn’t find my compass so I’m going on wisdom and blind luck. With the path behind me, map in hand, my hand points north turn slightly right and onward.

It’s quite steep going up from the river, but it soon levels out. The steepness is now replaced by a wind that definitely has somewhere to be, and that crap kind of tussocky ground/grass, the going was rough and slow, and quite a bit sweary.
My predecessor also noted many cairns on the way, he wasn’t joking about that either, there is loads of them, surely they can’t be all burial cairns, barely a foot high but ten feet across is the average footprint of them, some are in rows, none have a  cist surviving. There among the small cairns is the whopper, the big one, The Bratfull that belongeth to Sampson.
I don’t know when I first heard the name of Sampson’s Bratfull (What is a Bratfull?) it was so long ago I don’t even know where I heard it, but it’s been in my head rattling around like the last grape in the fruit bowl. So in the spirit of getting things done here I am.
It’s about seventy feet from end to end and aligned I think NW/SE. They could have put it on top of the hill on Stockdale moor, with some good mountain views, but instead they opted for the sea view. I’m now on mission number four of today’s equinox jaunt and so far they’ve all had sea views.

I sit for a while in one of the excavations in the long cairn, of which there are three, keeping out of the wind, it’s so strong walking on the uneven cobbles of the cairn was dangerous to impossible, and getting knocked about whilst trying to get that higher view by holding the tripod aloft was getting me very angry. I told the wind it was stupid, it didn’t care. All too soon it was time to go, not back to the car, but further up the hill where there is a string of three very definite burial cairns, big and crazy with exciting mountain views.

Six years ago this stone circle was rescued, is that the right word? Old maps called the field Druids Temple, and in the bank under the hedge of said field were a number of large granite boulders, now we have a stone circle. Not all the stones found have made it into the reconstruction, some still reside in the hedge getting re-overgrown. There are over thirty pictures of the reconstruction on Facebook, but no information on how they found the stone holes, or if they even did, did they make their own circle, are stones in backwards or upside down. Tma’ers of the 22nd century might scoff at it’s shoddy reconstruction, or they may applaud, who knows.

There are some pictures of the reconstruction on the Megalithic Portal, and also the warning “NO ACCESS IS ALLOWED YET”, and “We intend a welcome sign to go up eventually. However enquirers should be patient for a few months more”.
But that was, as far as I can tell six years ago, statute of limitations and all that, so off I go to the Druids Temple, Yewcroft stone circle (Rstd).

From Egremont go east to Wilton, exit Wilton east and look for a concreted farm track going right, if diplomacy and frontal assaults are your thing the stone circle is down there on your left, good luck. If though like me your a ninja at heart and sneaking about is your thing pass the concrete farm track and follow the road as it bends right and park on a gravel layby for one and walk up the road. The first gate you get to is the stones field. It’s in open view of the house, at which I presume the land owners preside, so I entered the field at it’s other corner and followed the hedge down the slope to the stones.
At the stones, there is a barbed wire fence around the stones, so I tore it down and went in (that’s a lie, it was like that when I got here). I don’t intend to stay long, this is just mission number two out of five for today’s equinox jaunt, so I start photography straight away, no messing about.
Half way through, a silver car went past, it’s a dead end road so there’s a fair chance that’s the land owner, did they see me, I couldn’t tell, so I went over and stood by the gate and waited, but no one came so I continued with photography. Then I stood around for a bit, staring apparently blankly into space, but cogs and gears were a blur in my head, thoughts chasing each other round my mind pushing and shoving. Thoughts like how close to the original is it?(that’s really ten questions) is that stone supposed to be like that or has it fallen over all ready? am I allowed to be here? shall I go? The last thought won out so onto mission three.

So what did I think of Yewcroft stone circle?
I liked it a lot, but i’m suspicious of it, like that Nigerian princess that e-mailed last night.
Reconstructions are rare occurrences, outside of Cornwall anyway, so we should be glad that the site page should read Restored not Destroyed.

It’s that time of year again, where one simply has to get up really early and drive really far away in order to stand around in a field waiting as the world slowly rotates.
They’re something I look forward to, equinoxes, and this one turned out really well.

On the M6 by 3.30am, a wee diversion round a closure
at junction 33, then a nice comfortable drive all the way to Seascale, no rushing about, cool and calm, got there early. But forgot to bring a coat, I might not need it later but standing round in fields before the sun has risen can get a bit nippy. Hey ho.
I parked the car on the wide grass verge by the gate near the bridge, you can see the stones from here. What you cant see anymore is the old ruined mill, it’s been demolished to a height of a couple of feet and been landscaped into a place of local interest with information board, it mentions Greycroft stone circle, but barely.
Walking on, I make a bee line for the stones, with no agriculture to impede progress I reach the stones in quick time.
By my calculations I still have twenty minutes before the sun comes up, allowing for the slight hill between us.

Whilst standing round taking note of the stones, I noticed the big concrete cooling towers have gone, were they gone last time I came, it’s been thirteen years, I cant remember. (29th September, so no) They’ve also put up two rows of super fences all the way round, they look new, I climbed over it and then up the big bank last time to get a heightened view of the circle. Not anymore.

Holy crap the sun’s coming, look lively.
The eastern sky was as clear a sky as I’ve ever seen on an equinox, it’s almost too perfect, just a tiny sprinkling of clouds might have been better, photographing directly into the sun isn’t what I’m best at. Nor is being there exactly on the equinox either it’s on the 23rd this year, and there’s me booking the week before off. But as they say, hey ho.

I manically rush about trying to catch the light while it’s at it’s best, the sunshine glitters across the stones and sparkles in the grasses dew, and I forget the cold for a while.
It’s not really an equinox sunrise type place, the summer solstice, that’s another matter, the sun would come up out of some unobscured gorgeous mountain pass I presume.
A sunset would be good with wide open sea views all along the west side, perhaps coincidentally directly west of Greycroft is the northern tip of the Isle of Man. George says there are no coincidences.

The sun has now well and truly risen, that’s mission accomplished, I’ve been here an hour and a half, taken 152 photos, and seen something that’s only been seen by a handful of people since the stones went into disuse.
Speaking of disused stones I’m off somewhere a little bit special next, and it involves a little sneak, and I do love a little sneak.

I first tried to get a look at Boleigh Fogou last year in 2018, and like Carl I tried the phone number numerous times but got no joy. So me and Eric tried to sneak in, from two different directions, but without knowing exactly where the fogou is we failed miserably and gave up. Disappointed.

July 2019 and we’re back for round two, obviously sneaking isn’t going to get us anywhere, so the only other option is a frontal assault, straight up the driveway, they wont be expecting that.
Parking was obtained on the B3315 there is a little muddy layby just east of the entrance to Rosemerryn house. Walked back up the road to the driveway entrance and engaged in the assault. But we came upon the first defenses all too soon, a hand written sign asking people who want to see the fogou to please ring this number. Canny Rosemerryn inhabitants.
I got me phone out and looked through my contacts and lo and behold the number on the sign was the same number I’d tried last year. So with the faintest of sighs and the fastest of vanishing hopes I rang the number. It was to my amazement that it was answered almost immediately, I told the chap on the phone that I was half way up his driveway by a sign asking me to ring, and can we have a look at your fogou please?
The man from Boleigh, he say Yes!

We walked on down the driveway and met him by the house, he said hello and thanked me for ringing, he did point out that we should’ve rang further in advance, and I said we didn’t know about ringing at all, and have come seeking fogou’s out of the blue. A lie, and I’m sorry, but only a white lie to keep his sensibilities intact. Anyway, all was good and he showed us the way, only a minute later and we’re at the entrance to Fogou.
When he left us to it and went about his business we had it all to ourselves, I’ve wanted to come here for twenty years at least, but saved it til last because of difficulties getting to it, of all the surviving get into-able fogous this is the last one, and I’m finally here, I was so excited I could pop, goosebumps, shortness of breath, dizzyness, I’d better get in before I faint.
As soon as your in, the creep entrance is immediately left, I walk past it to the far end of the Fogou, it is open, and looks to be an old break in point, stone is missing and it is all open. Back to the entrance and I have a look through the portal stones of the creep entrance and go through. Straight away a stone is on the floor right below a gap in the roof where some corrugated sheet metal now does the job of opposing collapse. Getting past the fallen stone the creep ends quite quickly. Lights off sit quietly. After a while I emerge back into the world, Eric is still looking at his phone, he cant have internet here surely. I have a look at the broken back end and then the bloke is back and he’s brought his dog and cat with him. we stand around talking for a while, what’s it for, we both agreed on some ritual purpose. He mentioned time team were here, and I remembered the episode he was talking about, they were digging a ruined fogou elsewhere but they wanted a more intact individual so they came here, with a dowser, I remember Professor Mick wasn’t impressed.

The Rosemerryn man was not going away now so I took a hint and said thank you very very much but we must go now, he lead us away through the woods, across a lawn (that was as far as we got last time) through more woods (been here before) and with in sight of the car. Bang, Boleigh done, I can excise it from my obsessive mind. I’ll probably be back in these parts again at least once and i’ll go have a look at Lower Boscaswell Fogou, but really I feel I’ve done fogous now and I can turn my attention else where, Brochs maybe, I haven’t seen enough Brochs.

Lured into the area by loves young dream and a splendid ring cairn, as is often the case, I thought I’d pop over the fence for a closer look at this rather interesting cairn than the roadside proffers.
Like Carl I didn’t see the point of bothering the landowner for permission to see his cairn, but then a look at it from the roadside is anathema to me, I implore you to get as close as you can at all times, no matter where you are, roadside indeed.
The cairn is as Carl says a large mound, but not built of grey stones, they are more or less white, especially where the quartz glitters in the sunlight.
The interior of the cairn is well messed up, dug up, broken and moved about. Some of the kerb stones look like they’ve been dumped in the scooped out interior. That standing stone on top of the cairn is quite perplexing, the coflein people do mention the cairn contained a rectangular pit covered by a capstone, a cist? I was ready to scoff at the standing stone being this cist capstone, but it really could be, it’s mostly rectangular except where broken, it’s quartzy like the kerb stones, so, who knows. You don’t get facts like that by hanging around the roadside.

Park at the reservoir, there’s two car parks, use the south one and park as close to the south end of it as possible. Walk into the woods that decorate the south shore of the lake and follow the path. It is very pretty in the woods this summer morning, a fox and two bounding Roe deer surprise and delight me. The path, about half way along the length of the lake goes out of the woods, but the path does follow along on the outside of the woods. Follow the path until you get to the big boulder, and Robert is very much your mothers brother.
I passed by this boulder six months ago but didn’t know about the rock art, nor would I have cared as I was in a mad mad rush. I passed it by earlier this morning en route to the four poster, with nothing more than a quick peep just to make sure it was the boulder with the art, it was so I carried on going. But sunrise is over, the circle is done, and now I’m back, and Iv’e got to say I’m fairly gobsmacked.
I tried to locate a couple of the other rock art pieces round here, halfheartedly really, I didn’t really have exact information on their whereabouts so I quickly gave up and made do with the big boulder. But making do is not the correct way to describe it, I’d come here just for this one rock, stone circle be damned, this one big rock is sublime.

Perhaps I was a bit drunk on the outdoors by the time I got here, I’d just seen a four poster stone circle, I’ve a soft spot for four posters, with a fairly successful summer solstice sunrise, some of Britains biggest mammals even put in an appearance, I was beginning to think of this morning as a microcosm of all my stoning trips rolled into one.

There are lots of cup marks with maybe three of them with rings, and gullies, can I call them gullies, grooves, lines. I got on the rock and blew all the pine needles out of the cups, I didn’t get on the art, and I stayed on my knees, like the proverbial penitent man. The sun shining through the trees completed the magic upon me, the crystalline qualities of the rock sparkled and twinkled across what is dubbed the paw print in the morning light. A cuckoo cuckooed and a Heron croaked, and a postman fell in love a little bit more.
In the end I really had to tear myself away, when I got back to the car two and a half hours had passed.
You must come here.
The last one to Fontburn stinks.

Eric and I visited Blawearie cairn eight years ago but because of time constraints we couldn’t go up and see the hill fort with it’s plethora of rock art. Today is different, we’ve loads of time and oodles of grim determination to see what I’ve come to see, no matter what.
After having satiated my need for rock art I approached the fort from the east. Walking along the scarp edge I pass by two banks on my right and stop at the warbox (of which there’s 2), I think of going in or perhaps standing on top of it to get a look around, but I soon lost interest because right next to it is the biggest cup mark in the world. Several feet across and deep enough to drown a sheep in, it surely must be man made, made for who knows what kind of arcane purposes. Its getting a bit overgrown now, another decade and it’ll be lost to undergrowth.
Walking west from there and it all gets a bit complicated, four parallel banks set perpendicular to the cliffs edge, this made me wonder about the place and I just walked round and round trying to get a feel for the shape of the place. A clue was had on the 1;25000 map, it says there are forts here, plural, right, ok that goes some way to explain whats going on here. But why would you have two forts just yards from each other and then build a bank and ditch round both forts. Makes no sense at all, unless it was perhaps two quibbling brothers, or a his and hers residence maybe, or and this strikes a cord with me, perhaps the lord and lady got divorced and they broke the fort in two in accordance with the courts demands.
Or, and this is probably my favorite daft theory, all the rock art round here is very impressive, some may say inspirational, what if it inspired someone to put together a landscape art version of two cup and rings. Has anyone ever suggested hill forts being giant landscape art, probably.

A fantastic site, spend a whole day up here with cists, cups and forts and you’ll be blown away.

Last time on Fontburn Dod.......
“Now I know the way, a fair weather visit is already overdue.”
Six months later.
It’s the summer solstice and the outlook is for a change, good, so inevitably i’m running a touch late, brought on in part by my erstwhile stoning buddy for the day, Eric, and partly by me not remembering to look up the time of sunrise. So, last time I was racing against the dying of the light, this time I’m racing against the birth of the day.
The walk through the woods on the south shore of the lake, was much nicer than six months ago, its summer, everything is growing and gorgeous once more, I also saw a fox and two Roe deer, and I haven’t even got to the stones yet.
As the path exits the woods and skirts along it I take note of the big cup marked boulder, I did see it last time but didn’t know about the rock art, I’ll pay more attention to it on the way out.
Arriving finally at the stones was another one of those “oh yesss!” moments, I said I’d be back with better weather and I most definitely am. It’s beautiful.
Two minutes after my arrival the sun put on a bit of a sunrise encore, just for me I swear, it was, what’s another word for beautiful, and not gorgeous.
I then went for a long walk round the site, west and east of the circle are two large mounds, I go and stand on them for a while, surveying the area, I’m not a surveyor by profession, so the most I can tell you is there was other stuff going on here after the stones were erected. Two long banks run across the common, possibly medieval, or maybe Tudor, i’m not an archaeologist either.
Two very vocal Buzzards are wheeling around each other above the trees, and a Cuckoo is down in the trees of the little river valley, with foxes and deer, all the natural wonder that England can muster in just part of a morning, you wont be getting that at Stonehenge.
I sit for a while and wonder at the world, but mostly I really hope all these terrifying statistics on extinction are wrong. I quite like being alive, and I like seeing other things being alive, and I hope that it all keeps going long after I’m gone. Don’t read anything into that.
I get up out of my daydream and attach my camera to the tripod and set about my new part of any stony visit. Lifting the tripod high in the air for that elevated shot, problems encountered.... wonky pictures, blowy winds, dazzling sunshine, and I look an idiot, on the other hand......better pictures.
This time I haven’t left a babe in the woods in the dark, but her little brother is still asleep in the car, so I’d better get a move on, still got some rock art to find yet as well.

Eleven months ago Eric and I came to Dartmoor for just one long day of stoning with a list of places that I wanted to see, I would have had time to see them all as well but Eric insisted on having something to eat, right in the middle of the day, half way through the list. How rude.
To Direct you.....
Coming south from Brisworthy to Cadover bridge, immediately after crossing the bridge turn left onto dusty track and follow it all the way to the end. It ends right next to the quarry, there is a restored medieval cross near by. It should have been easy to get there from here, but I didn’t have my compass with me and the famous Dartmoor fog covered everything, visibility was down to about a couple of hundred yards. In truth I wasn’t holding out much hope of finding the stone circle we’d come so far to see. My map was, as it turns out, too old and outdated, the shape of the Clay works quarry had changed shape, a lake disappeared. We guessed our way round the quarry, which is large to say the least, you’ve never seen such a sight of utter devastation, and prepared to climb the hill, but just then out of the mist I saw a line to my left, as we moved on the mist cleared enough to realise we were just about to go the wrong way, our destination was but a few hundred yards to our left. So we went that way.
Crossing a stream or two presented not but a little problem and suddenly we were at the south end of the stone row. Success.
There are two parallel stone rows, the south end has a kind of rounded boat shaped quality to it, the stones go up hill from there towards the stone circle, a reave? Leat? cuts through it, jumped, further up hill a large stone lies across the rows, passed by, the rows just kind of end right next to the stone circle. I wonder if it is known whether they are both of the same exact date, or did one come before the other?

I cant believe we found it, quite easily too despite no compass, despite the fog, or prior knowledge of what to look for. Eight stones remain of this stone circle, also known as the Pulpit. The circle stone that is closest to the circle is the tallest, and most leany, Burl say it is four foot two, but if you stand in the dip where sheep fidget it’s almost five foot five. It also has a gnarled and twisted form, and a big streak of raptor poo on one side.
We pick a stone and sit for a while, the mist is, I think, beginning to clear, revealing a lot more stone work to the north and the west, I regard the map and see that there are settlements almost all around, and blow me down another stone row and a possible stone circle. We’ll have to have a longer look round.
Time for some elevation, I attach the camera to the tripod and extend it all the way and hoik it up into the air with camera on ten second countdown, trying again and again to get the right angle, this is the first time Eric’s seen this, he laughed at me. How rude.
It is a great little stone circle, but to make the long drive down well and truly worth it, we’ll have to go and see a couple more stone circles elsewhere, right after I’ve had a look at that other stone row.

Another stream cross and we approach, I’m not sure what, there’s a very suspect bump, and some stones that look like they are in a row.
Shall I leave it there?

I only came to free my mind of the rattle word Trowlesworthy, but a quick look at the map and it is abundantly clear that there is much more than a stone circle up on this moor. We’ve had a wander round some of the settlement immediately north of the circle and now we’ve crossed back over the stream to have a look at the other stone row. The stones, they are in a row, and it’s more or less straight, and also more or less point to the stone circle, but in an unconnected kind of way. The stone row starts with a tall terminal stone at the west, passes by the suspect bump, and terminates with another tall terminal stone. Next to the eastern tall terminal stone is a lovely little cairn circle. I’m sure more than a couple of stones are missing and those that are left are barely breaking the land surface, but the mist has all but cleared and the cuteness factor is now apparent.
The suspect bump tends to overshadow the stone row slightly, I got a little excited to see the ditches either side of it, could it be a burial mound of some kind, Eric asked, Looking at the map once more reveals their true nature. Pillow mounds, I must confess, besides knowing they are medieval, the wrong kind of ancient, I knew not what they were. Upon returning to home I looked them up, artificial rabbit warrens, apparently Lionhearts and conquerors get through a lot of rabbits.

It’s been three and a half years since Alken first posted his pictures of this stone, and Iv’e been trying to find an excuse to come all this way beyond finding a single standing stone. So I reminded myself that I’ve not had a proper look at Dinas Dinlle yet, and it’s been years since I was last at Yustumcegid, and here we are.
There is a car park yards away from Abererch railway station, we left the car there, on a nice day like this, in fact the hottest Easter Sunday since records began, (were hearing something like that more and more often) assume the car park will fill quickly, so come early?
Leaving the car park head directly to the obvious entrance to the beach, ignoring if you can ladies in beachwear, turn left and walk along the coast east until you see the stone, it will be easy to spot, assuming it remains upright.
This is presently one of the weirdest sited stones I’ve yet seen, and I’ve seen a few. It is at high tide just yards from the sea, perched on a shelf at the edge of the sand dunes, like a penguin ready to dive into the deep blue. The stone looks like it has been dug out of the dunes, 320 degrees around the stone it is free of it’s sandy grave, but the back of the stone is still in the dune. So you can stand on the beach beneath it, or on the shelf right next to it, or above the stone on top of the dune.
Standing back on the beach, I swear you can see the old land surface into which the stone was set, and all around it the sand has gathered into dunes and swallowed it whole.
But the rising seas, especially stormy rising seas have eaten away the land between sea and stone.
Sadly, in the last three and a half years since Alken was here some massive twat has scraped a name into the stone, I couldn’t read it, perhaps it was a Welsh word, either way I decided it meant “stupid woz ere”.

Funnily, the stone reminded me of far away Clach An Trushal on the Isle of Lewis, clearly it wasn’t the size, rather, it’s close proximity to the sea. The coast line hasn’t changed that much round here in the last four thousand years, so the stone at Abererch must have been placed here for sea goers to see, the beach being a good landing place. And like Clach An Trushal, once on land there are many ancient sites to be going to. Perhaps I’m talking bollocks, that’s what this site does to you, it urges you to think about what has happened here, Old Wales says “there you go, what do you make of that”
A hat, a brooch or a flying Pterodactyl?

No field notes til now? for shaaaame!

This was a total bastard to find!
Or rather my brain was fried by the time we got here.
First attempt to get there ended when I realised I was in the wrong place, your supposed to just follow a line of trees up hill, but these trees turned half way up, back to the car.
Second attempt, took rather longer to work out I was still in the wrong place. Tree felling combined with the slightly misty view from the nearby Buck stone, convinced me for quite a while that I was Ok, I wasn’t, back to the car. Nearly gave up here.

A bit further on the road turns a quick right then left, whilst going over a stone bridge, I finally decided this was the right place and I should go for it seeing as I’m here.There are lots of old stone bridges round here. Park near the bridge and climb up the embankment. Burl calls this first part of the walk, almost precipitous. Follow the fence up hill, then onto open moorland until you find a stile with a handy sign pointing the way to Ninestanes Rigg, which was way more than handy.

Until in the end the two still standing stones come into view, and I breath a heavy sigh of relief, it should’ve been quite easy to find, but first you must be in the right place.
Well, I wasn’t expecting there to be this many stones here, yes it’s called nine stones, but you don’t really expect there to be nine. All the other pictures by Rockartwolf showed only four, I was pleasantly surprised.
Burl says it’s an unusual ring, one stone down eight still standing, most of the stones are small perhaps stumps, it strikes me as one of the few circles he hasn’t dug at.
Two stones still stand, one is leaning quite precariously, some of the other stones are quite the stump though, or perhaps they are just low stones, long grass does quite well at hiding the lower stones.
Much tree felling has occurred, changing the aspect of the circle dramatically, they seem to be felling these trees by crashing a UFO into them, Armageddon seems to have transpired with the nearest still extant forest, ‘tis a right mess.

After stamping the long grass down a bit I set to with the camera, hoiking up the tripod as far as it goes for that lofty view. The day has taken a decidedly grey turn, thin mist hangs in the air, but I think I really liked this stone circle, was it the euphoria at finally finding a long awaited quarry? or the satisfying number of stones, or lots of different things. Liked it.
Bye stones.

Parking isn’t good, I selfishly took up half a passing place, there wasn’t much traffic, and I think I got away with it, I was only gone ten minutes.
Barely a five minute walk, if that, from the road side.
As described by Hob Nov 2004.
Hard to spot in the long grass. Nice knobbly top to the stone. You can probably see Ninestanes Rigg from here, or at least where it is.

This one has been on my list of must see’s ever since I got Burl’s paper back guide, about twenty years ago, so it’s good, nay, very good to finally get an audience with this contender for most famous standing stone in Scotland if not Britain.
High praise for a random stone most people, including stone-heads haven’t heard of.
Let me begin.
Finding it is but a trifle, leave the A75 for Gretna, at the west end of town, turn right onto B721, then immediately left, take next right, at the cross roads go straight across. Pass Old Graitney and drive right down to the Solway Firth. The car park, such as it is, holds half a dozen cars and is just twenty yards from the Solway’s mud. Leaving the car follow the often flooded footpath south west, passing two fields look right, see the stone, approach the stone, love the stone.

The Lochmaben Stane doesn’t sit alone, there is another, something Burl’s book misses out. The smaller of the two is a meter high boulder, still large and straddles two fields, sitting just twenty yards or so from the big one. For this was once a stone circle, like the big Cumbrian ones, but got destroyed for simply being in the wrong place.
The big one is taller, taller than me and fatter than Benny, take my word for it Benny is fat.
Burl states the dimensions as being nine and a half foot long, so he must have written his entry whilst it was lying down after a fall in 1982.
C14 dated wood from the stone hole at upwards of 3200 BC, so it’s a really old one, like the Cumbrian ones.
The circle would have stood at the northern end of a Ford place across the muddy Solway Firth.
After The Scots invaded us in 1398 bringing on the battle of Otterburn, commissioners met here at the Lochmaben stane to discuss a truce.
Has any other standing stone been the site of a truce between two countries? I doubt it.
See, famous. Or should be more so.

The stone obviously gets the occasional visitor, because someone had arranged a row of little stones at the megaliths foot.

The one thing I didn’t like about it was the walk along the Firth, during moments of flood, the flood dumps all of it’s detritus onto the footpath, what could have been a lovely walk in the countryside turned into a difficult hobble through dozens of broken up trees, and oh god! don’t mention the plastic.