postman

This henge wasn’t on my list, I’d never heard of it til last week, I only found it on the map whilst looking at the route from the last site to the next, this earthwork was between the two, so I had a deeper look and found that Bladup had added it as a site on here some time ago, then deleted his pictures so the site page has remained empty for some time. So it seems it’s up to me to go take a look and flesh out this withering website.
There is no footpath to the round thing, but this is Scotland, where we’re going we don’t need footpaths. So I hike my tripod over my shoulder and leave the daughter in the car at the road side, parking near to, but not blocking a farm gate.
Walking across the field I keep willing one of the model aircraft club members to actually fly a plane but no luck, you stick to your corner of the field and I’ll stick to mine, winner, my corner has a henge in it.
Or is it a henge? the lengthy description of the site on Canmore has the site as domestic prior to the 90’s, but much bronze age stuff was found, pottery shards , two planks and a whole Ard plough.
The entrance is very indistinct, at the north east is a slight dip in the bank, or is it an excavation scar from archaeology ?

I stroll round it once doing photography, then stand gormlessly in the middle for a bit, trying to figure the place out, I never did. The Portal says the entrance is at the west, I never saw it.
I walk round again with my tripod fully extended and held high above my head trying to get an elevated view, I must’ve looked a bit of a twit.
Speaking of which it’s high time I was off to my next port of call.

Ignore the directions from New Abbey, if you come by car, park at the church just to the west of the circle, plenty of room in the car park, follow the sign that says 7 grey Stanes, and follow the wall east towards the circle. Two gates must be got through. Keep looking left over the wall to see when the trees end, when they do, leave the wall at 90 degrees, stone circle is no more than a hundred yards distant. Easy.

Having said that, last time we came here about 17 years ago, we failed to find it, coming as we did from the opposite direction to this time. This time was inexplicably simple, I cant figure out how I missed it last time.
My daughter Philli has come out with me today, and to my amazement she’s coming to see the stones with me instead of staying in the car.
The stones are easily spotted on their weird Little hillock, it’s like a large round stage and the stones are arranged around it’s circumference. The circle is also called the 7 Grey Stanes, they are grey, but there isn’t 7 there’s 9 or 10. So either someone can’t count, or picked a number at random, or a couple of the stones are modern intrusions. I didn’t count them, but one was loose and moved with the touch of a foot.
A large flat topped stone has tiny cup marks on it, but they are apparently natural, and a small cairn like mound can be seen in the circles west side.
To the west of the circle the hill forms an amphitheater type arrangement round half the circle, making an unbeatable viewing platform for the circle. To the west of the circle the view is wide and distant, the ground falls all the way down to the Solway firth and doesn’t rise again til Cumbria, so extensive views and obvious sunrise opportunities.
The idea that the circle has been “fiddled” with is kind of born out by the fact that some of the circle stones are inside the circumference of the circle. It doesn’t detract from the spectacle of the place, the view alone should be enough to keep the visitor rooted for a while, add to that the elation one feels at finally finding a recalcitrant site, and I’m well and truly established.

Until it is time to go of course, I’ve still got a couple of must sees to find yet, and feeling buoyed by my stone finding abilities I’m eager to get off to the others. Bye stones.

An often encountered problem with the winter solstice is lack of daylight, not helped by the sun stubbornly hiding all day behind thick grey clouds, it was daylight enough when we started, we being daughter and me, but it was going to be cutting it close, it all depended on the route to the stones.
I’ve never been here before, I don’t know the best route, I don’t know exactly where it is. Looking at the map, three options suggest themselves, driving all the way to Newbiggin farm, ask to leave your car there, smile sweetly. That would get you closest. Or you can park at the northern most of two car parks, follow the north side of the reservoir til you happen across the stones, or you can park at the southern most of the two car parks, follow the southern shore of the reservoir until you feel the stones are close and trust your moment to leave the path, should there be one.

For no other reason than the southern car park looks easier to get to, I choose to follow the southern shore.
There was indeed a path, a good one too, a wooden walkway wends it’s way through the trees and bracken, crossing streams, looking nice, it would look nicer in summer.
But it only lasts two thirds of the way, it abruptly turns south and tries to usher you away from the prize, it’s definitely getting towards dark now, but with eyes firmly on the prize I try to get a bit more speed out of my daughter, not far to go now. Following the edge of the trees with the reservoir appearing and disappearing through threes, we follow a path that only exists in my mind.
But the ground is very uneven, strewn with large branches streams and slippy stretches of mud.
I decide to forgo my Dad of the year trophy and instruct daughter to sit on that rock, and wait there while I run on ahead. She’s been through this before, she knows the score, if we keep going at this pace it will all be flash photography, that’s OK if your called Ken and talk funny, but i’m not a good photographer in bad light, and this was the baddest.
Do you often run to stones?
Running, slipping, hobbling, climbing over a fence, finding a path, following it until I think i’m there, I think I’m there, the path must now be abandoned, with no more than a feeling to go on. I think a fence was climbed, and maybe a small stream was jumped, then a small bank was climbed and hey presto the stones were right before me twenty yards distant. Working at the edge of human endurance can really focus the mind, daughter on her own in woods as it gets dark, am I mad? no sleep, little food, totally spent I was. I still uncannily went straight to the stones, unswerving, no is it this way or that. I like stones, me.

Our old mate Bladup suggested this four poster to me, i’m really into four poster stone circles mainly because I found what I reckon is an actual four poster but miles away from where it should be, in North Wales. But also because I think it’s interesting how stone circles evolved over the centuries, so many stony stories of what a stone circle should be.
Anyway, Bladup said that this four poster was just like my Hafodygors wen, so here I am.

Well there are four stones set into what looks like a cairn, but that is where the similarity ends four me (sorry).
I have no doubt that Fontburn Dod is a four poster, but I think one of the stones has shifted, leaving what looks like room for another, so some may have thought it contained more stones. Probably
Two of the stones have cup marks on top of them, but one also has natural weathering that looks like cupping, just to confound the postie i’m sure.
Like most four posters the stones aren’t tall, no more than a meter high, short squat rounded boulders, lord knows what was going on at Lundin Links, bloody over achievers.
I don’t have the time or the light to explore the place properly, only enough time for a quick five minute sit, only enough light for 18 pictures, then it is unfortunately time to go, I must go and rescue my babe in the woods. The more four posters I see the more convinced I am that my North Walean wonder site is what it looks like, a four poster.
But i’m not ready to cross Fontburn Dod off my list just yet. Now I know the way, a fair weather visit is already overdue.

It’s hard to say how long I’ve been wanting to get my tired bones up this hill, Stewart Ainsworth from time team was the first to alert me to it’s existence, during a dig at Bamburgh castle. He suggested the two sites were in contest for the area, the one with the castle came out on top, apparently. Looking on google earth reveals a wide wall round the whole hill top, and I do like a good walled hill fort, so on the list it went. I’ve been past it a couple of times, even been over to the Battle stone at the hills foot, but from there the hill looks high and difficult to find an easy way up. Looks aint deceivin’.

Winter solstice 2018, after an almost successful sunrise at Duddo, I decide it’s time to make that climb, the climb of the Bell, the Bell that Yeavers.
I park the car on the B6351 at the Grefrin (site of) monument, it’s a fairly obvious place. Then walk down the road to the Battle stone, arriving at the stone I take a quick look round and make a dash for the hill, dashing because i’m pretty sure this isn’t the proper way up. But i’m a massive fan of the direct route, if I can see where I want to go, i’ll always go in a straight line, a bit Roman innit.
There are fences that have to be crossed before you can disappear from view into the trees, but once through them the hill side is open and it’s just a whole lot of upness.

It gets harder and harder with each passing year negotiating these steep climbs, and this was one of the steepest, but after fighting only two heart attacks I reach the eastern entrance to the fort. After picking myself up from the inevitable collapse.
I sit round for a bit getting my breath back and taking in the vista, appreciating the strong cold winds, it’s been a while since I could actually and literally look down on the world. But there’s no time for nonsense, my daughter is waiting in the car, and I’ve a special stone circle to find after this, so I head south following the forts wall clockwise round the hill top.

The totally collapsed wall is a very wide stony spread, how high would the wall have stood? could you climb over it, or was there a fence with it, on it? Was it mainly for show?
Who knows, right now, i’m just following it.

I take a walk up to the topest most top of the hill, there’s supposed to be a cairn, but it’s just another grassy bump so I retreat from the biting wind back down to the southern rampart and keep following all the way to the western end of the fort. From here I think I can see where the Hethpool stone circles are. From there I take a turn round onto the northern rampart and back into the wind, It’s not so bad back down on the valley floor but up here it’s literally pushing me about. From here I look back down to the road, my car is a little silver dot, in the field beyond my car is a henge, apparently now only visible as a crop mark, if grass is a crop. But I feel I can actually see a circular something on the edge of the field. It doesn’t take long til i’m back at the eastern entrance. I bid a fond farewell to Yeavering Bell, and take an even more straight line back to the road, passing the Battle stone one more time. If I do pass this way again I wont be stopping, there are still lots of other sites that will be taking my obsession into the future.

God bless the obsessed.

Coflein has it down as a ring cairn, but Kerb cairn would be a better lable, should one be absolutely necessary. This monument has me standing on the firmest ground all day, not the actual ground, a possible ring cairn, some possible hut circles, a possible stone row and standing stone. This is definitely a cairn, it has kerb stones on the outside, standing stones protrude through its outer mound, ok,
it could be a ring cairn, but a cairn, it very much is.

In the middle is a rectangular depression with a stone in it’s side, it is the cist. The low mound that makes the ring has at least a dozen stones sticking up out of it, two of them are set side ways suggesting an entrance, all be it eight inches or so wide.
With kerb stones set into it’s circumference, a kerbed ring cairn. It could be a small embanked stone circle, with a later cist inserted. It’s better than I’m making out.

There is a lot of rocky clutter all around though making it a hard place to define, but I think I have it defined now.
The surroundings are pretty damn good. The lake sparkles in the late afternoon sun, and the mountains change colour with the passing of every cloud. Only the quarrying shenanigans gets on my nerves

The biggest most impressive hut circle here, and that’s saying something cause there’s dozens and dozens of them, some Roman, some Medieval but mostly they’re Iron age.
The circle is situated under the hillside quarry banks , I’m sure there’s a proper word for them, but seeing as they’re made by people who dig up and sell mountains i’m not going to learn it.
To be honest I’d gotten mixed up on what I was looking for here, I thought I was nearly done with only a kerb cairn to go, but it seems there was one last hut circle that needed a looking at, it was a stonker.
It wasn’t tucked away in some hilly fold, it wasn’t hiding under some outcrop, it was out in the open, on level ground where every one could see it, and they could see every one.
There is even a low hillock to stand upon and look over the circle to Moel Hebog.
The walls are, in places, a couple of feet in height, the entrance is to the north, facing the mountain.

Time has gotten away from me here like no where else, I’m now going to have to modify my plans for places elsewhere. For now, find that kerb cairn.

It took me a while to locate this possible stone row, even when I had I was rather doubtful that I had. Coflein says there are five stones and I only found four, they are in a line to be sure, there’s even space for a now missing stone. Still quite doubtful.

Contrastingly, I went almost straight to the little standing stone. It is definitely a standing stone, all be it a slightly diminutive example. Coflein also note its close to a field boundary and an enclosure. Thus perhaps casting some doubt as to it’s authenticity as a bronze age standing stone.

Coflein says.......A crescent shaped burnt mound with an opening adjacent to the nearby stream.Thoroughly covered in turf but made up from small stones less than 0.2m in size and visible in places. Reaching a maximum height of 0.5m above ground level the feature measures approx. 5m by 6m.

I say..... splendicular views all around, not a great site, to be sure, but it’s bronze age and obvious and it’s a good place to get your bearings from. I didnt know it at the time but from there you can see a kerb cairn with cist from here, below and closer to the lake.

Whilst en route to a possible stone row from a possible ring cairn, I came across a few more possibles. This hillside is chock full of possibilities .
These monuments are, as far as I can tell not on Coflein, unless they got a little lost themselves, which is quite possible if the weather was average.
Possible 1. A large circular spread of stones seemingly in concentric rings of three, the inner ring looks like a hut circle.
Possible 2. A pair of circular stoney spreads. One has a clean interior like a hut circle or ring cairn, the other is stones all over like a round cairn.
They are right next to each other, on the edge of a possible settlement (there are low walls).

I cant fathom why Coflein says nothing about them, they are large and obvious.

Lots of things had to come together for me to be here, money, time and weather foremost among them, but the unsung hero of the day was research. without it I wouldn’t have known there was anything down here at all. I left the car in the car park by the Llyn next to the dam, walked back up the road to the house Tyddyn-Mawr, then, left at the house, and then tried to find a footpath that goes north from the road, I couldn’t find it, it has gone. So I made one up, and entered the hill side.
My immediate destination is a found on Coflein ring cairn.....A possible disturbed ring cairn with a central cist. The overall form is uncertain but about 2.5m to 3m in diameter.....was all the information they had, besides being in an old settlement, which has prehistoric hut circles, quite an enticement., to me anyway. En route to the settlement site I came upon a  lone hut circle, took a picture, got home and Coflein says nothing about it at all. There is a vast amount of activity up on this hill side, not all of it recorded by officialdom. From the bronze age through the Iron age through the Roman era, through the medieval to just last century. Almost every age is represented up here.
Wales in a nutshell this place.

So there I am standing on the edge of a settlement site, I can see the walls, and the view is tremendous, but as yet no hut circle and certainly no ring cairn. There are various stones lying about the whole area but I pass them by until I come across the very obvious hut circle, less obvious is the two smaller huts right next to it, one of which is full, covered by long annoying grass. Also next to the huts are three or four neat piles of stones, I couldn’t work them out at all. It took me some time to find the ring cairn, it doesn’t look like your average ring cairn, I looked at it once, pointed it out to myself and said, that’s something, then walked away.
I sat in the hut circle and thought for a while, I pondered and then I ruminated, and then I finished off with a smidgen of contemplation. There was no ring cairn, at least not like the vast majority of ring cairns. I decided that the “something” that I had seen would probably be it, there are four stones in the middle that could be a cist, and it has a handful of surrounding stones that are doing their best to be a ring, but failing, though not miserably.

This is but the first site of the day and I have a long walk ahead of me, so off we go, we’ll, I do.

Thesweatcheat and I passed very close by a few years ago en route up Cnicht, so I’ve been waiting for the chance to return and have a poke around for three years. After mooching around the southern slopes of Moel Hebog I only had a limited amount of time left and these hut circles are closer and easier to get to. So here we are, or were.
Parking was had in Croesor, at an actual car park, mostly used by walkers who are going up mountains, but it serves equally well for those going hut circles.
From the car take the road north west up the hill, stop when you reach the long farm track/driveway going left to Cae-glas, go down it and straight past the farm house. Follow the wooden posts marking the footpath, after the house the path goes through a gate in a wall, then, following wooden posts, through another gate, this time in a fence, then over a wall with stile. Immediately after the stile go down hill towards the sound of the river. A low wall must be got over, just over the wall is the first hut circle, I note it with much glee, then walk away further down hill, where I see the biggest and most impressive of the four hut circles here.
On the lowest terrace, just by the river are three hut circles, one is really quite large and immediately obvious. Made of head sized stones now covered in moss, as is everything down here, with a south east facing entrance, facing the river, or something else.
The second lower hut circle is quite recognisable, but at the same time indistinct, because the moss covers everything, everything. The third circle is the most ruined, nay practically gone, I have supplied a photo of where I think it is.

Then it’s back up the hill to the lone upper hut circle. The entrance has grown somewhat to the extent that a third of the circle is very ruined, but the rest is quite good, the two trees would give some welcome shade in summer, but at the end of the day, through the camera, they seem to suck the light out of the scene making photography a little tricky. But to the naked eye, a more magical place would be hard to find, the river making one of the best sounds in the world, moss and ferns still hanging on to that summer feeling. The golden glow of a typical North Walean sunset rose slowly up through the trees, I thought I’d got there only just in time, but as I wandered about in a fairy tale I decided I’d got there perfectly on time.

This is my first time at the Old Harestanes, it’s been on the list for ages, so it’s high on the list of today’s must see’s. The reason it’s taken so long to get here is it’s on private property, in fact it’s at the back of someones back yard. Some door knocking and mild smiling is the order of the day here.
Eric and myself approached with some trepidation, which door should we knock on, being who I am I always go for the door with a letter box in it, you can’t go far wrong there.
I knocked on the inner door of the porch, on the west side of the house. Twice. An old man came to the door, I asked him if he had a stone circle on his property, and could we have a look, pretty please, smile, think happy thought’s. He said we do, it’s over there, he pointed. We couldn’t see it, but he clearly wasn’t going to show us so we said thank you very much and walked off behind his house. It’s not a big garden, it was quickly found.

Hob said from RCAHMS “No comparable monument exists in Peeblesshire, but one near Penmaenmawr, Caernarvonshire, dateable to the Middle Bronze Age, is strikingly similar.” where on earth is that then? Penmaenmawr isn’t in Caernarvonshire is it? They don’t mean Circle 275 do they? I cant agree with that. RCAHMS also says theres four stones in the circle, looks more like five, with a little intruder.

It’s in someones garden, did I say that, I thought it would be good living next door to Balbirnie, but this ol’ feller has one all to himself. Just imagine having an actual stone circle that has appeared in books and stuff, in your garden.
Brilliant.
So, there are six stones, one is tiny, and I think an intruder to the true stones. Five actual large stones form what’s left of the circle, which was never large. On the floor inside the circle is a raised area, it could be an overgrown getting buried stone, as its in a garden I didn’t go digging. There may have been some lithic movement.

Not the best location to see a ruined stone circle, but glad to have gotten to see it anyway, hopefully the words Old Harestanes will now begin to move into the back of my mind, and settle down with all the other names. Funny thing about names of ancient sites, I think I can remember all their names, yet not an idea who that boy my son hangs round with is.

I came here once a long time ago, but have no digital pictures, which was the only reason I needed to make the detour further up north to the lovely Loch Leven.
The fact that this pair of standing stones are tall, strong and good looking stones that over look the western edge of the Lomond hills (which are actually miles away from the Loch of the same name)had something to do with it as well.

No map needed here much either, easily seen on the north side of the A911 between Milnathort and Wester Balgedie, opposite Orwell farm, which gives the stones their names, named after a farm, how inglorious.

There’s no where good to park, I made do with blocking a field entrance, leaving kids in the car, and jumping the fence for a ten minute quick meet and greet. Hi I’m the postie, no not that one, and you are? big stone? ok, and your friend there? he’s big stone too eh? Not very talkative, stones, it’s nearly always a rather one sided conversation.

Two stones, separated by about fifteen yards, one stone is tall and bulbous, with rounded edges, the other is more angular, rough and sporting the undressed look. The rough stone has pinky quartz veins on it’s lower half of one side, the side facing the other stone. Both stones have been reset in concrete.
The Lomond hills fall away quickly on it’s western edge and the look is of dramatic scree and cliffs. Further north along the hills is a hill prosaically named West Lomond, it has a cairn upon it’s summit and can be seen framed by these tall stones, if you stand in the right place of course.

A good stone pair.

You don’t need an ordnance survey map to find this one, easily spotted on the south side of the A985 between Kincardine and Dunfermline, just west of Cairneyhill, north of Torryburn. There is a layby right next to the stones, but no way of gaining access to the stones field, except for jumping the barbed wire fence, even with an injured leg it is but a two second ordeal.
The tall single standing stone is a very good example of the type, taller than me, grooved by precipitation, and an almost hole, it doesn’t go right the way through.
It’s reminiscent of the Queen stone near Symonds Yat, and the tall Machrie moor stones on Arran.

Just yards away is the remaining three quarters of a good four poster stone circle. I like four posters, the most economical of stone circles there is. It’s the Toyota Prius of the megalithic world, whilst not being intensely irritating.
So three stones remain, the smallest stone is fairly unremarkable, grey and squat. The middle sized stone was just right. Leaning maybe and a very flat surface to one side. The tallest stone is most impressive, maybe eight times the size of the smaller one, pretty yellow lichen crowns it’s pate.

Is the taller single stone an outlier to the circle? or was the circle put here because the stone was already here? What happened to the missing fourth stone? Lots of four posters end up as threesomes, how come? Questions questions.

Nice place, I do like four posters.

It took ages to find this place, I really didn’t want to miss it as the last time I came round here I didn’t know it was here, so I put in a little extra effort.
It can be seen on drive by on the west side of the A92. You could park near Balbirnie and walk from there, it’s just 400 feet away. Or you can do what we did, drive round in circles until something gives.
Kilmichael Road is a long crescent shaped road surrounding “The Henge”, when your at it’s furthest right hand edge, going clockwise, there is a left hand turn, it leads to Glengarry Court, to it’s right is a stream with a grassy walkway and path following a stream to the mortuary enclosure.
Phew, at last.
The well worn henge can still be seen, but only in one small place, at it’s southern extreme, from there it curves round the west side of the wooden posts, becoming more and more shallow until it just fades away. More than two thirds are gone.
The mortuary enclosure has been well reproduced for our visiting pleasure, I took more time feeling and photographing the posts than I did the henge.
Not a great site, but a must see part of the Glenrothes stoning experience.

Eleven years ago I came here and was caught between dismay ‘n disgust and elated giddiness. I really like the henge, I even approve of it’s surroundings, should all henges be out in the countryside? I can stand a few getting stranded in suburbia, juxtaposing nicely with our last site of the day.
But some knob had lobbed a big blob of yellow paint on the last remaining circle stone, it was still there last week, couldn’t the council do something about it? has anyone told them? has anyone told anyone?
Still a bit disgusted to tell you the truth.
Still like it here though.
I once got told off by a crusty lady not to walk on the henge at Thornborough, this one would make her head explode, they’ve cut car parks into the henges bank all the way round, they put a fence in the ditch by the entrance to stop smaller cyclists wearing it out. There’s a boy in the ditch singing to him self whilst hitting his own head with a stick, it wont wear out the henge, it just made me laugh.
And there is nearly always someone watching you through a window.

Still like it here though.

It’s been twelve years since my first happy time at Balbirnie, I was on my own then as I am now, though this time they’re in the car waiting and not the hotel.
Last time I approached on foot from the north, early in the morning. It’s morning now too but I’ve sensibly approached from the south in the car, and parked just thirty yards from the circle.
The storm that got us a few days ago has left it’s mark at the circle, there’s big branches all over the place, I surreptitiously remove them all before photography begins. I don’t want to get caught tidying up, they might think I care or something, emotions are they? we don’t hold with them.
The branches weren’t the only difference, it was a lot more overgrown, sure the grass was short but the nettles and other “weeds” were right up to the stones on the north side. The information boards have been replaced too, once there were two now there is only one. They have been replaced at Balfarg henge too, there we can learn the true sacred place where these stones belonged. The henge’s entrance was aligned on the stones of Balbirnie. There is a roundabout north west of the big henge, where Pitcairn road meets western Avenue(B969) this is where the stones should be, they moved them all the way to the far other side of the henge. The far side of the henge, there’s chapter nines title.
I’d wondered for ages where it was moved from, I was surprised to find the answer.
But the circle is still a good one and even seems to have brought some of it’s sacredness with it from the B969. People still look at you oddly when they pass you by and your intricately trying to photograph the decorated stone. Weirdo.
Oh right, we’re the weirdos

Worst souterrain in the world!

There’s a small layby below the hill, a straight line will take you to the worst souterrain in Scotland, if there are no crops in the field. Probably best just to have a quick look at the castle then go and see a really good site.
I’d regrettably chosen this place to visit because it was close to the sunrise site of lundin links and because the pictures on here and elsewhere made it look quite good, scant though they are.
Thankfully, the kids were still in “it’s too early” mode so I had the place to myself, I walked up the hill making for a rough patch of low scrub, I was hoping for a footpath, a sign, something to let me know I was going the right way. Behind me I could see the Firth of Fourth with Big Bass rock shimmering in the morning haze.
I’m at the top now standing right next to the malignant heartless beast that is Ardross, the worst Souterrain in all of Fife.
I’ve done a bit of research and know there is a hatchway that must be accessed to enter the, you know what. After a summer of Fogouing on Land’s End I was quite excited and a little eager to get into this Iron age stone womb, so I quickly walk round the edge of the scrub expecting to see a formal entrance of some kind, but there wasn’t one, a swear word slipped uncharacteristically from my crest falling face.
I could see there were some quite large boulders on the top of the low mound so I mount the low mound and stride through the long grass. For a second or two I was thinking I’d got mixed up and come to the wrong Souterrain, this one was obviously an ex souterrain, the good souterrain Id seen inexpertly photographed must be elsewhere. As I approached the large boulders I suddenly and quite unexpectedly began falling, down, not over, straight down, I only stopped falling when my body had filled the gap I was falling into, my left foot was still dangling, free of contact with a floor, my right foot was half way up my back. After the initial surprise I decided now should be the time to express the pain flooding through my left leg, no words would come, not even a bad one, just a long groan that morphed into a whimper. My hankey had fallen from my pocket, so I carefully tucked it back in, I had dropped my compass too but couldn’t quite grab it, I was fairly stuck. Then some words came.
In the end I had to wriggle and push upwards until I was finally free, my leg was throbbing from knee upwards, but you know what I thought, so there is something here after all.
Then as I was fumbling with my compass it fell down the hole.
More words.

I had a look at my leg, it was hurting enough to prompt thoughts like is it broke? There was a long graze up my outer thigh, but not much bruising. My thoughts went back to the souterrain, worst souterrain ever.
I pulled the grass back from the hole I’d fallen into, expecting to see part of a souterrain, instead it was just a rabbit hole, a deep, perpendicular rabbit hole, they have now exceeded there evil beyond that of the dreaded gorse, and earned the moniker of M****r F****r.
And there well out of reach was my compass, a choice word or two and a second later..... screw it.
I carefully raised myself to my feet and carried on inspecting the low mound, almost immediately I found the man hole cover that lets you in, I wasn’t feeling particularly strong but I gave it a tug or two, dug through the dirt with my fingers trying to find an edge to get under and pull up, but it wouldn’t budge. Worst souterrain this side of Elie.

At least I knew I was in the right place, but it wouldn’t let me in, is it locked? has no one been there for ages? the man hole cover was getting buried. What a disappointment, this is Es Tudons levels of disappointment, you wont know what that means, imagine a child’s face
on a burglarised Christmas morning.
The walk back to the car was a nightmare, every footfall exquisite agony, still got the rest of my list to go at too, limping and groaning all the way.
Worst souterrain in the world.

No fieldnotes for 11 years!
It’s a long way to Tipperary, I’ve heard it said, fortunately, I’m going to Lundin Links, and just in case Lundin links never makes it’s way into song or film it’s in Fife, Scotland. Still a long way though, I’ve given myself five hours to get there before the sunrises, it will be close, i’ll be racing against the sun.
The sun beat me, but I won on a technicality, the equinox sunrise, from Lundin Links’ tall standing stones, is somewhat obscured by the row of houses on the edge of the golf course, giving me a much needed extra ten minutes.
I parked in the small road by the golf club entrance grabbed the camera, left the sleeping kids (for they had both blessed me with their presence)in the car, and scurried off round the corner and off to the stones.
As I approached the most impressive ruined four poster stone circle in the world I could see the sun had most definitely risen but the stones were still in shadow, a tree had saved my bacon, I bet that’s never been said before. At best it was a draw? I got in position and awaited the suns loving caress, golden light dappled and speckled through the leaves of the giant Oak tree, I took a few pictures. The sun doesn’t totally see the stones until it’s gotten above the tree, and by that time it isn’t really sunrise anymore.
I think a summer solstice would be best, the sun would rise closer if not out of Largo Law the big hill to the north east, framed by the stones, which aren’t at the corners of a square but a rectangle, well, a circle actually, but, you know. Then it’s lots of pictures in the golden sunlight of a perfect equinox weekend, I say weekend, it’s actually tomorrow, the equinox, but for a myriad of reasons we are having our equinox today, on Saturday.
The stones are pretty damn impressive, two, three times taller than me, and two are proper twisty shapely stones. They are a beautiful muse, and an honour to photograph in such good light.

Last May I came down this way to have a look at Buwch a’r Lloe standing stones, but I also, if we’d had enough time, wanted to go and have another walk around the waterfalls at Devil’s Bridge. Three months later and yet another plan goes to pot, this time I wanted to go to Dolgamfa kerb circle, via Ysbyty Cynfyn church circle. But the rain was unabating, we’d got wet enough for one day, so I decided Devils bridge alone would suffice, for now.
I am fairly certain I’ve said “This is the most beautiful place in Wales” before, but that’s because I’d forgotten about Devil’s bridge, I have kicked myself hard, repeatedly, because this time I really mean it. This is the most beautiful place in Wales.

There are no ancient remains here, no cairns or stones, no fort, no huts. But, we are left with the option of natural rock feature, and this is certainly one of those. The Afon Mynach is a short lived river it’s entire length is no more than four kilometers, for most of it’s stretch the water hurries along at an untroubled pace, but soon enough it all kicks off.
The river narrows, squeezing itself through an ever tighter gorge, fallen logs try to bar the rivers progress, the river cares not, it just keeps on going.
Then it does something funny, as the chilled water pours through one particularly narrow crevice, it starts to swirl, the current grinding round and round, forming circular holes in the bedrock for the river to negotiate through, three in all (maybe).
Then it’s through the narrowest river gorge I’ve ever seen, A slim serpentine, a water worn fissure, bridged by one of the most should be famous bridges in the world.
The Mynach, having endured the chasm, now falls 90m, over five falls, creating one of the most sit and watchable sites in Wales. Old trees, copious fernage, with unstoppable moss, all bathed in late summer rain, sweet sweet rain that falls from the heavens and makes everything shiny and exquisitely bewitching.
Then the Mynach disappears through another tight ravine and is gone, in a few hundred yards it’ll join the Afon Rheidol. A nice river to be sure, but the best bit is now behind it. It is off to the sea now passing below half a dozen hill forts til it finally empties into the Irish sea at Aberystwyth.

Though there are no ancient remains here, I’m sure the place would have been know to the Iron age people who lived nearby, and maybe to the Bronze age folk too, kerb circles close by to the north are close to water worn gorges. But devils bridge is the water and rock site par excellence, they were here alright, as mesmerised by the otherworldly beauty found here as I am.

In the beginning though it was the bridges above the Mynach that brought me here, and are I believe worthy of mention.

The present road bridge is a late twentieth century reconstruction of an iron or steel lattice girder bridge of 1901. Immediately below is the bridge built in 1753.
The 1753 bridge frames the comparatively diminutive lower bridge which, perched on the living rock above the river chasm, has a single arch perhaps 6.0m wide that crosses some 30m above the gushing torrent. This stone rubble bridge is thought to be a medieval structure, perhaps sixteenth century, although it appears to have been much restored when the 1753 bridge was built over it.

Had I tried to leave the best til last I couldn’t have done much better than Pendeen Vau. I had only one problem, it’s exact whereabouts, The map was pretty vague, yes I knew it was at a farm, or at least in a farm yard, but I couldn’t quite get which of the houses had that very farm yard. Off I went, on my own, down the lane, before too long I was at the lighthouse, this I decided was definitely too far, so I back tracked, talking to Eric on his phone looking at the map and going on street view and such trying to figure out which of the houses had it, but then I was back at the car and with only one way to go. We peeled off the lane, right, down a red gravel farm track, I parked just fifty yards from the farms front door.

It was universally agreed in the car that I would be going solo on this one, no kids no dogs, just me, camera, torch and Fogou. At the front gate I looked in the front yard and reckoned on a back door approach instead, but that felt too invasion of privacy so I went back to the front gate opened it and went in, no path across the lawn or letter box in the front door persuaded me that the back door is the way to go. As I approached the back door an Audi with occupants old stopped right by me. Time to apply charm and smarm, I said hello and asked If I can have a look at your Fogou, he said of course do you know where it is? I said I think I can see it from here through the gates, with that he left me to it, no hesitation at all he didn’t even blink. I challenge anyone to come up with a more trusting, care free farmer any where in England.
I, quite literally had the place to myself, so I shimmied straight up the drain pipe and took some photos of the site from above on the farm house roof. Then I went in had a cup of tea, watched Countdown, had a quick lie down, then headed back out to see the Fogou, right, yes the fogou.

Through just three gates and I’m in the farm yard, the fogou sits before me. There are no cows, no mud, no gate covering the entrance, it was as if someone above had created the most awesome visit ever.
Torch, camera and twine at the standby position I entered the labyrinth. There is a lot of rubble on the ground, unsure whether that was something I should be concerned about I carried on with one eye on the roof.
In short time i’m at the tiniest entrance I’ve ever seen in an ancient site, only in actual caves are passages smaller than this. I crawl through, almost on my belly, squirming and wriggling through without getting dirty proved impossible. Inside the Rab cut chamber, I use the words calmly and without stammer but still have no idea what they mean, does it just mean it’s underground? hewn out of the earth itself. At the end of this domed passage is a small pit full of dirty water, did some one dig here looking for bones and stuff?
On the domed roof is a silvery spread of I don’t know what, possibly the same kind of stuff as the green glowing mossy stuff, but silver. Dangling down from a crack in the roof are what look like roots hanging with brownish watery droplets on them, and I guess that’s what they were, rather than the strange cave dwelling worm? that hangs silk with droplets on them and they catch an insect and then pull them up to feed. It would have been cool if they weren’t just roots.
Back out into the fogou’s main passage I carry on along the passage til it gets too small to get into, there is a small gap through which you can see back out into the world, turn and take a photo.

Then it’s back to the tiny portal, sit for a bit, photo a bit then back outside. I go round the back and have a look at the blocked creep entrance.

And I’m just about done, back in for some toast, and that’s it.
Noting on the way in and now the way out That antiquarian Dr William Borlase was born and lived here, firstly I thought well no wonder he got interested in things with a Fogou in his back yard, then I wondered if he’d built it himself after getting inspired by all the other sites he’d seen.
I’d have one in my yard if I could.

It’s almost time to go home now, there’s just time for a couple of fogou’s and Tintagel castle.
It’s been twelve years since I was last here too, but the only thing that seems to have changed is you cant get through the creep passage in the fogou anymore. But, crucially we had the place to ourselves again.
With heatwave Herbert (i’m naming heatwaves now) still pouring on the sunshine we made our way straight to the fogou, glorious shadows embraced us lovingly. Inside the round chamber/beehive hut, which is it? There were no Swallows here this time, like most of nature they aren’t doing very well. But hey, the football season has started so it’s not all bad.

Once out of the shade we go up to the top and find some more shade to sit in, shade and an iron age view unrivaled in the central Penwith peninsula.
But the shade can’t contain us for long, we enter the big house with a cobbled porch, there is an annexed section by one wall, and a small gully through the wall to outside the house. But best is the north east entrance to the fogou, it actually seems to be in the corner of the house, there’s a chance it may have just been excavated that way. But either way it’s a beautiful little place, if there was no such things as fairies it would be necessary to invent them to explain this place.
Attention should be applied to the rectangular windowed house as well, if only to acquaint ones self with the 18th century part of the site.

The aerial picture on the perhaps new information board seems to show more round houses over the wall at the west side of the village.
One Fogou to go.

It’s been twelve years since I was last here, and right from the start there is one glaring similarity, driving here is a real pain in the horse. Driving and navigating, with two kids and two dogs, it’s not easy, sometimes I get really confused, is it this way? that way? can I get my car up there? will there be a spot to park in? In the end I parked, I’m still not sure where, I could see a farm, and someone perhaps watching me. We went quickly in the direction I hoped was right.
A couple of fields later and I’m beginning to look for stones, a likely rocky outcrop will sort out their whereabouts for me. From on top of which they are indeed visible, wow, we made it, and with one of our number still wearing her slippers.
Over a stile or for what passes as one round here and we are in the presence of brilliance, a more or less complete and perfect circle, there are a couple of gaps, but there are also other stones on the general periphery of the ring, but there provenance is generally unknown.
A weird dip in the land sits on the edge of the circle, later I find out it was a quarry that threatened the ring. (Burl)
The kids sit in the middle of the ring with the dogs whilst I wander about taking pictures deftly omitting the squatters from any of them.
The sun was getting real low, any anxiety from our off beat approach had subsided and I settled into the magical scene. Now we were all squatting in the centre of the stones, a lone woman was approaching from Carn Kendjack but after she saw we were there she went off somewhere else, then returned when we left. That’s the way to do it.

There are moments in time, lots and lots of them, but most are none descriptive empty moments, some are quite bad, some are quite good, but just a few are perfect, the light, the view, the stones, the company, the moment when a plan comes together, when all is good with everything.
Moments to live for.

We entered the Trelowarren estate from the south off the B3293, driving mostly through woodland, after that it all gets a little hazy. I had intended to attempt a drive all the way to Halliggye farm house, but it never materialised, I did see a promising footpathish type thing going off left into a field, but with no sign saying Fogou I carried on. All the way to the big car parks, there’s two, I chose the right hand one, and ended up parking with in yards of the footpathish type thing. With not much at all to go on, Eric and I went that way, we did have a 1:50,000 map but it’s not finely detailed. The path was just a mowed grassy stretch at the edge of the field leading to a small wooded area, I hoped it would be there, it wasn’t. But there was something, a tall mound with a winding path round it. This I decided was the Mount marked on the map, hence we should go west. At this time we noticed a number on a sign post, this must be part of a kind of guided walk, we followed it, to a couple of houses. One of which was called Halliggye. The fogou is behind it.
Elation!
From now on, when we’re trying to find a stony site and we’re not sure we’re going in the right direction, but walking it anyway, we could be walking away from it for all we know, it will be called Fogou anxiety.

Fogou anxiety has now been replaced by Fogou adoration.
There is a box with a windup torch, thank you, and together with the two little torches we’ve brought and the flash on my Camera and Eric’s phone I felt we’d be sufficiently enlightened, and not in the dark.
So it’s straight in, down the Victorian gated entrance and into the gloom, it’s taller than I thought, we can more or less stand up straight, right up until the point that we can’t, standing before two low entrance ways to different pats of the Fogou. We firstly take the right hand entrance, down on our knees we shuffle through the low trilithon portal, it doesn’t go very far though, this is the original entrance, now bricked up and blocked off. There was a very big cave spider in here on the modern wall, Eric doesn’t like spiders, he fair pushed me out of the way to get out.
Time now for the left hand entrance, it’s slightly less cramped getting through this one and once through we can just about stand up again, torches powering through the darkness reveal a long well built curving corridor, we follow it onwards. At it’s end is a raised stumbling block, “thanks for that Kelty”, and just beyond the stumble and in a small area at the end of the passage is the smallest lowest passage entrance I’ve ever crawled through. But crawl through we did, we got to the end and sat on our haunches, then we turned off the lights.
Trying to look through darkness is a funny thing, your brain kind of says well if your not going to look at things I’m going to make stuff up, then you start to see things, who needs LSD when you’ve got Fogous, imagine them both together, cringes, absolute madness.

Lights back on we make our way out, crawling, stumbling, watching for spiders and yet all the time looking round in awe and wonder.
We’re back outside now, Eric’s wicked sense of humour kicked in a bit and he likened our experience to that of Thailand’s recent caving story, not funny, but I knew what he meant, that was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Are all Fogous like this? no, but I wish they were.

Boleigh! buck your friggin ideas up.

After a long and tedious motorway drive down the first thing we did was, well, it was book into the holiday village, then we went the chip shop, but after that we went straight up Trencrom hill.
Parking was had, funnily enough, in a car park on the south side of the hill, room for half a dozen cars or so, but this evening there’s just a van and us, us consisting of two older children, two Jack Russells and myself.
The way up is clear, but steep, big boulders abound, it’s not far to the top, once at the top we see the van driver flying his fast remote controlled plane. The view behind you as you climb up is one of St Micheal’s mount, so inevitably I whipped out the camera to take a shot at it. But the camera was dead, as dead as the proverbial. Disaster. I can only hope the camera has been turned on all the way here and all I have to do is recharge and start again. Pah.
We walk around, a touch despondent, and then head off to Beersheeba standing stone, with camera phones.
8am the morning after, daughter stayed in bed, Eric, dogs and me are back at the top, the plane flyer is gone but a rainbow has stood in as his replacement, rainbows are better.
From the southern walkers entrance we went over to the eastern entrance, a rather grand entrance with standing stones for gateposts, nice.
Then back to the highest rocks in the fort, there are basins here, three right next to each other, perfect for sitting in whilst watching the world doing it’s thing, or things, one of which is stirring the soul, sounds crap I know, but it’s never just about the stones, or in this case the fort, buddy at work is so narrow minded that he thinks this is just a hobby, it’s more a way of life.
Anyway, fully stirred, we continue to wander among the rocks, we didn’t wander too extensively, thus not seeing either of the two wells here about somewhere. Our limited wandering did expose the western entrance which I’d failed to note the evening before, another grand entrance with standing stones incorporated. Very nice.
Then we left, it’s time for breakfast, that, I think, was my first Cornish hillfort, I must see more.
So I do.

I went the same way as Meic, his directions are spot on, I counted the number of crossroads, but didn’t really have to, it’s a long straight track, when it forks take the right track, stones are on the right, unmissable.
The walk was really rather nice, in the forest mostly out of the sun, we saw a couple of young deer. Always a bonus.
I’ve wanted to come here for a number of years now, it looks a real belter of a stoney site. But it really took me this one did, got under my skin, I wanted to stay.
Eric once more plonked himself down under a small tree at the top of the clearing, seemingly going to sleep, leaving me free reign to linger longer, to get to know the site. It’s not a site, it’s a beautiful woman, imagine going on a date with Charlize Theron, she’s very pretty, but she also likes prehistory, loves star trek, superheroes and she too has no sense of smell, I hope you get those analogies. I went to see a nice stone row but found much more.
At the top of the hill is a lovely little cairn circle with a faint cist at it’s center, then tall stones wibble and lean and off down the steep hill go two stone rows. Half way down is a long stoney bump across the row perpendicular to it. At the bottom of the row is a single terminal stone, there was probably two but hey what are you going to do. Have a look at the awesome hut circle just off to the side, that’s what, I wonder what it’s occupiers thought of the rows, is the house the same age or later, did they use the rows, did they build it, and got buried up the hill. Such a thought provoking place.
Back up at the top, Eric is still crashed out, so I join him for a while and lie down on the big flat stone next to the cairn, a big flat stone? did it once stand? is it a really over sized cist cover? I close my eyes and begin to drift.
Not to sleep but into memories, memories of stones of times past, trips out with my toddling children, they’d have followed me into a volcano if I’d have told them it’ll be cool, anything so long as we’re together. In the end perhaps that’s what keeps me going, trying to recapture those bucolic idyllic days, days with no worries, lying around on the grass and introducing my children to the world. Those memories come with me always, there not as good as real children laughter, or complicated questions with absurd sounding answers. Am I rambling? It’s Assycombe’s fault. A life with stones and a life with children, two things I’m most glad I’ve done.

I’ve been a good boy and waited eleven years for my next chance to say hello to Ringmoor, patience is a virtue they say, but having no money is a poor mans excuse for patience.
I’m not going to bother with the kerb circle, TMA doesn’t believe it’s ancient, so to ensure that I have the time to see everything I want, I am willing to sacrifice the maybe kerb circle, Burl seems to believe in it though. Perhaps I should have gave it a few minutes look.
Like Brisworthy this cairn circle was re-erected in 1909, presumably by Rev H.H Breton of Sheepstor. A good man I’m sure.
Eric has taken his leave and hidden amid the tall grass in the middle of the ring, to hide from the sun and my camera, and to rest his poor little feet. No rest for the wicked though, so off I go down the hill north following the stones of the row. An odd row it is too, sometimes a double row, sometimes single, stones this side and stones that side, I can only assume it’s pretty knackered. Like me, I couldn’t even make it to the last stone, I should have, but god I was tired.
Back up the hill to the stone circle, I choose a stone and sit leaning against it, “you can come out now if you want Eric”
“Nah, it’s cool in here”
Strange lad.
Anyway it is time once more to be moving on, there is one more thing I want to look for whilst were here, stupid map says it’s a cairn circle, maybe, we didn’t find it, it was a cist anyway, no wonder we couldn’t find it.

The first time I came here it all felt a bit complicated to find, we even had to ask someone who was in their front garden for directions. But this time I threw caution to the wind, I drove all the way to the end of the road, by the farm, tucked the car as far out of the way as possible and walked off quietly down the footpath.
I wasn’t sure if we were going the right way, there’s no Brisworthy stone circle signs pointing the way, I was just following my nose, ha good one Chris.
The footpath leads out onto a rough pasture type field, in the far corner is a path, I doubt it is thee footpath though, either way, from there I could see some grey blobs shimmering in the midday midsummer sun, we made for them, and made them, they were some stones. Terrific.

Eric slumped against the tall oddly shaped stone that has been likened to a leaping Dolphin, whilst I go round inspecting the stones. A little over a century ago only three stones still stood, thank god it was restored, by a Reverand no less, H H Breton, thanks Rev.
Out of all the places we’re going today this is the only one I’ve been to before, as it happens, exactly 11 years ago to the day, I brought my 8yr old daughter last time after an aborted sunrise attempt at Downtor, but this time the weather can only be described as perfect, everything today has been perfect. To add to that perfection, Eric has agreed to go where ever I go, unlike daughter who last time didn’t want to go up the hill to the Ringmoor sites, I’ll be back one day I said. Eleven fricking years though. We leave Brisworthy for now and tread wearily up the hill.

Greywether says there are two stone rows here, a double and a single row of stones, but the single stone row is called, at least on the TMA, Black Tor. Which is it?
This unexpected delight was my final site of the day, it wasn’t on my list of sites that I wanted to get to, but I’d decided to put Trowelsworthy warren stone circle back for another day, so I had a bit of time left over. What I want now is a place that’s not far from the road, the very road I’m travelling along homewards. Black Tor fits the bill, it’s got a Logan stone (Zip it Stan Lee) and a rock basin. I like both of them things so I leave Eric dozing in the car and, stagger? across the moor. I couldn’t find the rock basin and couldn’t decide which if any of the balanced rocks would move under my weight. Disappointed, I look down to the river valley, look again at the map and decide that I can see the stone row, So, just one more then.

The river is crossed via a metal plank, as I did so a pony was drinking from the small pool, stood on the plank watching the scene, I decided this was as good a Dartmoor scene with no stones in it as Iv’e seen, the water was so clear and clean looking, even the pony looked in very good health. Sharpitor and Leather tor provide the best of backdrops.
Fresh over the river a cairn hangs out, no stone row or cist that I could see. So straight over to where the double stone row bangs against the river then follow them up the hill. The now, almost compulsory drainage ditch cuts through it, keep going up, to where the stone rows joins forces with a particularly good cairn circle. Adjacent, almost conjoined, is another cairn, no circle stones, but it does have a single row of stones that reaches beyond the ditch.
Even if there were no megalithic site here it would still be a good place, rocky tors, ponies, clean and clear river, a gorgeous day, but there is a megalithic site here too, and my mind is blown, damn it I’ve got to go home.

If your stopping to have a look at the stone row that is right next to the muddy pool, then be advised, it is very ruinous, but there are two more stone rows very close by and they are both in better condition than the one you stopped for.
Views abound.

Apparently not associated with the very nearby very ruinous stone row, but is in line with it.
I only stopped for a quick look on my way home in the late of afternoon, but was glad I did, the stone row may be a bad one but the cist is 75% perfect, the stone circle of the cairn maybe 20% perfect, the view 90% perfect. It had been a long and expensive day but the percentages don’t lie, there’s always more to see on Dartmoor.

We approached the burial chamber from Buttern hill stone circle, where by you just go straight up and over the hill. But no matter what direction you come from just look for the large walled enclosure on the east side of Buttern hill, walk round it til you find the chamber on the east side of the enclosure, at it’s south east corner.
This site isn’t going to set your megalithic world on fire, it is a fairly luke warm place. But there aren’t many chambered cairns on Dartmoor, no wait, actually there’s probably loads, but they’re not what Dartmoor does most of, so we decided to go back to the car this way.

Right at the corner of the walled enclosure there are some big stones that look like they could well have been part of some now toppled monument, I thought they were what I was looking for but they didn’t look anything like the pictures on here and on the Portal. So I kept on looking, one place immediately took my eye, bracken growing out of some stones, they must surely be it. They are.

It’s pretty ruined, the chamber is recognisable, and because you can see the chamber all the other parts fall into place, passage stones, portal stones one up one down. The view east is quite extensive, but crosses only over farmland.
Hunger had made itself known to me some time ago, every footfall now wobbled pains around my stomach. We quit the hill, and made a bee line for the road, retrieving the car at quarter to nine, a little over four hours had passed. Cosdon stone row, stone circles White moor and Buttern hill and here, all seen.

Eric and I approached Buttern hill stone circle from White moor stone circle, two kilometers to the north west. There was no path, except those made by sheep, and who knows what governs their movements. So we were guessing really, I have a map and compass, but they only play a secondary role to guesswork. From White Moor standing stone strike out for the south edge of Kennon hill, stopping momentarily at the old settlement marked on the 1;25,000 map. Then keep going in a south east direction heading for Buttern hill, at the lowest point between hills Kennon and Buttern, turn south, the stones will appear, have faith, they are there.

Most of the stones here are having a lie down, Eric is easily lead, so he took their advice and lay down on the longest stone. I tried to photograph the stones as best as I could without letting the lazy boy into them, but in the end i followed suit and lay down on the second longest recumbent. The sun, by now, had dried out the grass and stones, we got pretty comfy, apart from the internal ever present scream of damaged ear drums, the only sound came from an over achieving Skylark, seemingly screaming his shrill melody right at us.
Opening my eyes, I was gratified to see that we hadn’t gone mad and poetry still doesn’t move me, so I suggested we could possibly get a move on to the last site on this particular walk. After he’d vacated the longest stone, I took some more photos, and off we went.

It’s a fair old walk of two and a half kilometers from Cosdon hill stone rows to White Moor stone circle, following the well obvious footpath we stayed clear of Raybarrow pool, indeed why would you even try to go through it, you’d have to be mad to stray from the path, I’m always straying, but when the path goes straight to where your going?
After much wet feet based japery, the stones finally come into view, my heart missed a beat, and I got that giddy Brodgar feeling, it’s been so long coming, has this stone circle, and such a long walk, even my goosebumps had goosebumps. Eric, as ever took it in his coolest of strides, he asked which way were going next, sat, and waited for me to drink my fill of White moor, he knows the score.

I’ve been on lots of moors, hillsides and commons, fields and heaths, and, do you know, none of them have been white, not a one, and this place is also decidedly not white, it’s most definitely green, bright, shiny, wet and very green, almost, you might say, as green as grass, why isn’t this place called Green Moor? That’s what I’d have called it, is there even a green moor anywhere? Bet not.

Even my feet are wet now, and I’m beginning to join Eric in his fantasies about Thanos clicking his fingers and getting rid of wet feet the universe over, but wet feet are still another small price to pay to be here, now.
I walk around the stones, there’s no need to touch them, they’re hard and wet, I know. There’s two things I do at an ancient site, photography and sitting, it’s still quite wet, so sitting is out. Walking round and round, clicking the little back box at it all, and yes a slight caress of the tallest stone, a pretty and thin slab, and telling Eric yes I’ll be done shortly, he’s over by the outlier now and I can tell how tall it is, it’s maybe twice as tall as any of the circle stones, I walk over to it, little knowing that I was walking away from the circle of my dreams.

The outlier has been graffitised, by someone with the initials DC and TP and just T, later that morning I see that DC also went to the long stone on Shovel down, a repeat offender. The outlier is almost pointing us in the direction of Buttern hill stone circle. I tell Eric that we’re now on our way back to the car, just one stone circle and chambered cairn on the way. He leads me away, with only time for a quick wistful look over my shoulder, I whisper bye stones to the stones of White moor, still a stupid name though.

I had no clear idea where to catch this years summer solstice sunrise from, only that we were going for a big one on Dartmoor, it might be Down Tor, it might be White Moor, it might be Brisworthy, it all depends on timing, the longer it takes to get here, the less time we have to get across Dartmoor. I like leaving things til the last minute, I really don’t, but I do, and today was no exception, running out of time we head for the nearest name on today’s list, Cosdon hill.

I was trying to come from the nine stones area south of South Zeal, but missed it and went up a small lane that terminates at a ford by a bridleway entrance. Not an ideal parking place, but there was just enough room for a horse to get by, should there be one out and about in the lanes of Dartmoor at half four in the morning. Eric and me accessed the hillside further south than I knew, so it took us longer to find the stones, just as I was beginning to wonder where on earth they were, the sun came. We stopped and photographed the absolutely perfect sunrise (two in a row now) scrutinised the map and local topography, made a decision on where to find them and went that way. I was fair gobsmacked when I saw the stones and shouted stones ahoy, pointing them out to Eric, who let out a gasped hooray, he stayed awake with me all the way here, and was in trainers that aren’t waterproof, tired and wet feet isn’t the best way to start one of the longest megalithic walks on the list.

The most beautiful kind of sunlight ever created bathed the triple row of stones and indeed everything as far as the eye could see, which was far. The dew on the grass took in that sunlight turned it into a trillion little rainbows and reflected it all into my eyes. Sometimes it’s clear to me why we do this, no sleep, a five hour drive and a long walk up an uncooperative hill, a very small price to pay to see something like this.
None of the stones are very tall, waist height at the most, but there’s so many, and so much going on in such a small place. The cairn, has two cists, and maybe five circle stones on it’s circumference, going down hill, the three terminal stones separate the cairn from the rows of stones, then the rows wander uncoordinated down hill, like a drunken army squad. Then there’s a drainage ditch, but the stones carry on, but more sporadic, then they just kind of fade out into the hillside. I walk back up to the cairn where Eric is sitting out of the wind, and sit for a while next to him, he grudgingly admits that the stones are quite impressive and the sunrise a good one. You can’t ask much more than that from a sixteen year old.

I parked the car with daughter within at the little car park just south of Llyn Pendam, and walked into the woods along a track that at first looks like it could take a car, it can’t, fallen trees and bottomless puddles etc.
Soon I was out of the trees and on an open hill side, just as the track plunges down hill, look right, the house is hidden by garden trees, the stone is hidden too, but I was sure of it’s location, so I climbed over the gate and walked the walk. On approach, the standing stones worse nightmare had occurred, the stone was indeed hiding, it was lying down in a ring of dead Daffodils. The ring of Daffodils was a bit odd but shit man the stones fallen over, how very sad. Sadder still, i’m the first to have visited in 14 years apparently, so god knows when it fell.
Looking at the clump still clinging to the bottom of the stone, and the muddy tide mark showing how deep it was inserted, I’d say it let go of the vertical world no more than a year or two ago. It was leaning even when Kammer came, so a bad wind storm or two would have been all it took.
How sad.

Negotiating the often steep maze of lanes from one stone to the next we passed by this iron age settlement, I had wanted to see Pen y Castell hill fort but was unsuccessful in my management of time, so this little one would do for a surrogate iron age fix. It isn’t the best fort in the vicinity, half of it, to the west, including the entrance is too ploughed out to photograph. But a quick look at the aerial photos on Coflein will show it’s hillfortyness.
map.coflein.gov.uk/index.php?action=do_details&cache_name=ZXh0ZW50dHlwZSxCT1hfbWlueCwyNjU2MzZfbWlueSwyODM5MjhfbWF4eSwyODQxNDdfbWF4eCwyNjU5NzBfc2VhcmNodHlwZSxhZHZhbmNlZF9vcmE=&numlink=303591#tabs-4

It’s been about a million years since I was last here, pre digital, pre children, pre lots of things. Because I’ve got no pictures on my computer and because I’m apparently into four posters that have a cairn, I decided that the new cars first outing would be to take me back there. Only this time with a digital camera and a child, don’t worry it’s one of mine.
Moths directions are fairly spot on, don’t waste time parking miles away and walking in drive right up to the point you see the stones on the left side of the wall, park by cattle grid and right hand bend. See picture.
No field notes for fourteen years?
BrigantesNation recognised that it’s a four poster, but not a stone circle, talk about contradictions.

Far away in North Wales I’ve championed a hugely unknown site called Hafodygors Wen, I think it is what it looks like but am unable to prove it, so I’ve taken to seeing as many actual accepted four posters as I can, for comparison like.
This one compares quite well.

Stupidly, we started the walk towards the stones on the wrong side of the wall, at the stones there is no gate only a wall and wire fence, we crept through at a place where the wall is tumbling slightly. In hind sight, we should have gone back down the road away from the stones, opened the gate, and walked unhindered straight to the stones. If I was here with a certain other TMA’er we probably would have gone up the hill first to inspect the settlement remains, hut circles and stuff. But my daughter is not very outdoorsy so I don’t push my luck.

It’s quite a large cairn, maybe a meter high, like untold thousands of others all over Britain, only this one has a stone circle in it. Ooh’s and aah’s indeed.
Four posters are sometimes in a cairn, whether the cairn and the stones were done at the same time has yet to be revealed to me, for some four posters don’t seem to have any cairn at all, the Goat stones for instance.
One of the stones has gone, or migrated slightly, there is a very suspect stone right in the middle of the circle, and another just a few yards away towards the hill. Or, perhaps one of these stones is the stone that made up the trilithon, mentioned by Burl several times in his books, he’s doubtful of this assertion and we should be too, because it’s undoubtedly a load of old boules.
We sat around for a bit drinking in the sunshine, it’s been a long time coming, having a butty, also a long time coming, then the sun went in and I pointed out to Phil that because the suns now gone in we are just sitting round in a field. She agreed.

The views aren’t bad, for Yorkshire, some nice limestone paving, and caves, but it’s all too barren for me. I do like a nice tree, they’re alive you know.

Then we ran into the dreaded Tour de Yorkshire, what a bunch of gobshites.

Idwal couldn’t find it, I know why, it is an utter B’stard to find.
This is my second attempt to locate this kerb cairn, it is not on any map, no one has been here before me, except coflein, and they’re not always completely trustworthy. We walked this way and that, couldn’t find it, we then split up, Alken went high, I went low, still couldn’t find it. When looking at a picture or two of it on Coflein I took a photo of the screen with my phone, so with phone in hand we were desperately trying to match up the picture on my phone with the landscape around us, it was not easy, no, it was hard.
we sat on a rock and wondered if it was normal to keep looking. Then I finally saw something on the ground that was in the phone picture, so we carried on, normal or not. Alken went low, lower than I went, and I went high, but not as high as Alken went. Then at long last I found it.
Since Coflein sent it’s envoys out to photograph the place a lot of growing has occurred, the gorse is closing in on itself and choking any paths through it, the moss, which had all but covered all the stones, we stripped off the moss and generally tidied up a bit and set about photographing the place, sufficiently enough that subsequent explorers will not have as hard a time of it as we did.

This is what Coflein says of the site....
CEFN PENAGORED CAIRN AND RING CAIRN
There are two cairns set in close proximity on the slope of the Cefn Penagored ridge. Both cairns are about 6m in diameter but are of different forms. The upper cairn has a clearly defined structure marked by a prominent ring of large stones, some over a metre in length. The lower cairn is defined by an earth and stone bank which includes a large quantity of white quartz. There is a small stone lined cist at its centre.

Ring cairn? there is no ring cairn, and there is no cist at it’s center.
Confused?

Ps, We also tried and failed to find another ring cairn.
Ffridd Camen, ring cairn (Possible)
SJ04743447
A bank of earth and stones, 2.0m wide, 0.4m high and 10.5m overall diameter, with orthostatic internal kerbing, and possible cist elements visible.
Could not find.

Seven years later and I’m back, and I’ve got a sweatcheat with me, a sweatcheat? there is only one, well, two, but the other is fictional.
Walking west north west from the Cwm Tywyll ritual complex (a group of cairns), towards the big hill that is Cefn Penagored, aim for the exposed rocks at its southern end. Now turn and walk straight to the very top and you’ll pass this kerb cairn on the way, it’ll be on your left. Coflein is very confusing about this wide ridge, there are two cairns upon it’s sides, or maybe four, or even five, we only found two, about 250 meters apart, but separated by a sea of Gorse, call it a nasty name, go on, it doesn’t care.

First time I saw this kerb cairn I couldn’t work out which one of the two or four or five it was. This is the Cefn Penagored ridge cairns, it is supposed to have two other low cairns associated with it. Couldn’t find them, or maybe we found one, with a big fallen stone in it??? See pictures.
Coflein also says the cist is intact but we could only see the two long side panels but not the end slabs, perhaps they are under the grass.
Alken rather fancied he could see a double line of kerb stones, I could too, or maybe they are just stones near a cairn, we both often see possible kerbing in most cairns, but then we wear our stoning goggles at all times.

After spending time at Nant Esgeiriau cairn and then Pennant cairns we gave over some time to have a good look round the Cwm Tywyll ritual complex.
Avebury, Stonehenge, Ness of Bordgar, these are all ritual complexes too, but lack of fame isn’t the only difference between those and here.
A few cairns, a ring cairn and a small standing stone are what it takes to be dubbed “ritual complex” here in the North Walean uplands. An ignorant walker would walk right on through it without noticing it, there are no temples or trilithons here. It’s a subtle complex.
But still quite beautiful, the views in all directions stir the soul. We never saw no small standing stone, just a cairn and the ring cairn, coflein only says it’s a possible ring cairn, but i’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that Thesweatcheat and myself have been to more ring cairns than the person who said possible, and we say definitely a ring cairn.
I’m not sure I discerned the three eccentrically concentric stony rings, it’s a bit of a messy ring cairn, for sure, but still a ring cairn.
A small cairn is across the footpath, worthy of note only because of it’s close proximity to the ring cairn.

Just over one or two fences, and within site of the Yr Aran cairns are three cairns, lower down the slope are two partially grass covered low mound of stones, both have lumps of quartz on top. Map and Coflein says there should be just one lower down cairn but we could clearly see two. from these two cairns we can see the other cairn higher up the hill, about half way up. It seems to have big white somethings piled high on top of it. We walk up hill.
This is the best of all the cairns here in this big group.
It is the largest and has lots of big quartz chunks piled on top of it mixed with the more normal coloured rocks, they probably aren’t original, and might cover the only intact cist up here. Who knows.
Views of the Berwyns, Sian Llwyd and very distant Snowdonia are very good.

I last came here 7 years ago on a misty summer solstice morning, lack of knowledge made me miss half of the cairns. Coflein later told me that one or two of them have cists, and elsewhere I missed a ring cairn and a kerb cairn so I promised myself one day I would return.
For a change, Thesweatcheat and myself find a coinciding day off work with no hindrances, apart from car over heating problems, it’s on it’s way out cant be helped. So here we are.
There is no footpath up to the cairns, early on in the walk we came across a farm, saw the farmer and asked if we can get up there pointing to the hill top we wanted to climb, worryingly he asked why we wanted to go up there, we said “cairns” you know the ancient ones, he pointed out there are no public footpaths up there, I gave him my best innocent smile, we’ll be alright wont we? He pointed out the way up and off we went.
A steep farm track took us almost all the way to the cairns, it was hard work, did I say it was steep?
The cairns are all low and small, some have kerbing showing and some have been dug into revealing the cairns innards, didn’t see any cists.
Then the farmer turned up in his buggy with his two dogs. We chatted about the cairns and stuff and discovered his family had been farming here for four generations, I took a chance and asked if he knew much about the Berwyn incident. He knew a lot, his granddad had been on tele talking about the tremor, the loud bang, the lights, the army.
Not interested in the Berwyn incident? never heard of it? Long drawn out sigh.

So, not all the cairns here, there are over a dozen, are grouped under the name of Yr Aran cairns, strangely the two or three furthest south over the fence are called Rhyd-y-Gethin, which is stranger still as Rhyd-y-Gethin is the other side of Yr Aran and down in the valley. Two Yr Aran cairns are over the north south fence but north of the west east fence, there are a few fences up here. It is farmland, not open access Berwyn nature reserve.
these two cairns are much the same as the cairns by the trees. Hope that all makes sense.

I’ve been to the Rudston monolith a couple of times but never made it to Willy Howe before. It’s in the big orange book so it’s on the list. I’m killing two birds with one car journey here, been to the Bridestones, now it’s time for Willy, or William as his mother demands.
I’ve heard of unhelpful farming types round here, so it’s with some trepidation that I leave the daughter in the car not far at all from the mound, right next to a sign saying private road keep out.
My first impression was, wow how big is that, quite big is the answer.
Clearly the best time of year to see it properly is now, ie February.
I correctly align the mound in between the farm and myself and assail the mound.
I’m getting a bit tired of calling it a mound, it sounds far too simple, the countryside is truly cluttered with what the map calls tumuluseses, but this isn’t one? Has Willy never been properly investigated? I shall refer to the mound just as Willy.
Having climbed to the top of Willy, I can see the two scoops taken out of Willy, the scoops are very big, rendering the true height of Willy open to question, has material gone or just been piled up to the sides.
All over are small chips and lumps of white stone, is it chalk or limestone ?
One side of Willy has blankets of Snowdrops over it, surely spring can’t be too much further away.

I quite liked it here.

Very close to the road.
Not far from the High Bridestones.
Loads of stones.
Stone rows that aren’t in rows.
Not a bloody clue whats going on.

This has been a long time coming, that’s for sure. Right at the very beginning of my stone hunting odyssey I was aware of another Bridestones, far away in North Yorkshire. My Bridestones is the burial chamber near Congleton by the way.
North Yorkshire, five miles south west of Whitby, Aubrey Burl calls it a grim windblown region, I’d go a bit further and call it a hopelessly dead environment, mind numblingly devoid of any character, stupid grouse gurgling go back at me all the time. There are good places, I know for sure, it’s just these featureless moors, I cant stand them.
But I do like stones, so here I am.
My car has been in the car menders three times to have the over heating problem sorted out, so far we’re doing OK, the car is parked at the side of the road with daughter staying wrapped in her blankets whilst I go off into the cold to see the stones and wow it is cold, windy, bone freezing cold. Aubrey, after telling how it is, goes on to say that the stones here are possibly the ruins of two stone circles. One of which could be a four poster. The tall stone with rusting coins crammed into it’s crevices is the sole standing survivor of said four poster. so I can agree with that. But the other stones, I can not fathom them at all. A stone row perhaps, who knows.
But the Low Bridestones a couple hundred yards slightly north of west steal the conundrum crown right off the head of the High Bridstones.
Both the High and low Bridestones are not very far from the road at all, much closer than I’d have thought going off the pictures alone.
In all, I prefer my Bridestones, but you’ve got to see them all to know that.

I first tried to find this stone over a decade ago, due to whiny family and failing daylight I gave up and left the site for another day. That day came on the winter solstice of 2017, not a sunrise to be had on this day, Nine stones close to Gibbet moor to Wigber low to here, Bradbourne.
My map is only 1:50,000 not much information at all, parking by the cenotaph in front of the church, which is weirdly set back away from the road behind a house, there are two gateways, but no way of knowing which way is in, I guess right, Phil and me had to walk past a car full of people who must surely live here, but we get past them unhindered and through the gate into the church yard.
I have photographed Emma’s directions off the computer screen at home with my phone and now dig them out, but the battery has died and it is of no help at all, except maybe for a game of catch.
Fortunately, it is winter now instead of summer and I can see the stone through the branches of the trees that would otherwise be laden with leaves, fortune favours the bold, or in this case the tired and muddy.
Over a gate, down hill to another fence, over the fence across a slim brook, over another fence and your at the stone.

The stone leans, and then some, it’s on the short list for England’s leaniest stone. The top of the stone curves inwards making the top one big notch. But the most curious aspect of the stone for me is the weird J shaped groove on the edge of the stone, is it natural?
Is it carved? is there any way to tell?
On the other side of the stone are the fossils, they are small, get on your knees, get close and peel off the, the, lets call it mud.
Crinoids, they are called, an absolute mystery to bronze age man, these fossilised ones are very pretty but not a patch on a living specimen... upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d2/Crinoid_on_the_reef_of_Batu_Moncho_Island.JPG

I first tried to find this little stone circle well over a decade ago, failed miserably too. But seeing as Alkens visit was so fruitful I decided to give it another go.

Gibbet Moor is right across the road from Gardom’s Edge, it could be loosely argued that this stone circle forms part of a vague linear thingy, that’s the correct terminology I believe. Looking at the map there’s stone circles and bunches of cairns stretching away to the north and the south. There was a lot going on round here in the past.
Unlike today, the place is forlorn and ghostly, I have the moor and the mist entirely to myself.

Daughter locked in the car, dozing under heaps of blankets, I start the long walk up the track, it seems to take forever, there should be a warning on maps, something like “places on the map may seem nearer than they really are”. After an age or maybe two I reach the building on the map along the track. The tentative cross on my map suggests I walk east and slightly south from the farm building. So I do.
It doesn’t take long for the building to melt away into the mist, all landmarks have now gone and I begin to wonder how on earth I will find my way back never mind the precious stones I’ve come to see.
I’ve photographed a few pictures off the screen at home with my phone in the hope they will be of some use in finding my way round but to no avail. Then I see the pallet standing up in the photo, then looking around desperately for a stood up pallet, still not availing. Then, and this is the last then, then I see the pallet. I stride towards it confident of finding stones, but there are none. Not far away is another stood up pallet, I wade over to it, it must be there. Nope
From this pallet, I can see a fallen one, I imagine the line going further and find another fallen pallet, from here I can see one stood up, it must be there, nope. Vaguely through the mist another pallet, I wonder if it is here, or did I go the wrong way at the first pallet, over I go. The pallets have numbers on them, this is number 4, it must be here I seem to have reached the end of the pallet line.
Explosive joy, I can see them, not twenty yards away, I squelch over to them.

It should be renamed Pallet stone circle.

If it is a stone circle.
So here I am, no wonder I didn’t find them last time, I think I was further along the track from here, and they are so low that I would never have seen them from where I was looking.
I wonder if any actual investigation has ever been done here, beyond the odd stoner turning up for a quick visit. The addition of another stone would indeed make it a perfect four poster stone circle, but with just the three, it is only strongly suggestive. Taking into account the number of other similarly aged monuments, especially Hob Hurts house, a curious square barrow barely two kilometers south, tips the scale in our favour. I reckon.
After a sit around and the obligatory tidy up I photograph the stones and take my leave. Rewinding my approach I notice the numbering on the pallets are nonsensical, they don’t follow on.
Just a small point.
I liked it here, despite the mist and lack of view, despite the cold and wet, I got a good vibe from the place, that more than anything else sells it to me.

Wow, It’s taken me soooo long to get up to the Esslie’s, I’ve wanted to come here for years, and now that i’m here i’m really quite giddy and giggly. But the two things I’m taking home with me most is the view to the west-ish, it is a very good view a long view of Aberdeenshires rolling hills, and the other thing is that there is so much going on within the circle, the circle stones, recumbent and flankers are all present and correct but I didn’t really know that most RSC’s have ring cairns in them. Sunhoney, Midmar Kirk, Easter Aquhorthies, none of them seem to have them, unless they’re underground or just gone, so after over twenty years of stone hugging, I’m still learning.

No field notes for seven and a half years, I reckon I can think of something to say.
I haven’t been here for well over a decade, before even my getting a digital camera, I got the big orange book saw what things were like in Aberdeenshire and came more or less straight away, spurred on by absurdly perfect sites with wonderful names like Sunhoney, Balgorkar and Midmar Kirk, being a massive Star Trek fan I’m drawn to anything with Kirk in it’s name. So here I am again, a place so splendid I could be on the bridge of the Enterprise, the kids have elected to stay in the car, my only company is my dog Mia, some birds, mine own thoughts and a host of dead people .
Even without Burls help I can tell that at least one of the stones is in the wrong place, but I don’t really care much at all, because the recumbent and flankers are the best in the world, argue with me I dare you, they are just mind blowing, perhaps they’re even responsible for my entire state of being, I was normal once you know.
Cope likened it to the top of Batman’s cowl, I think, I wont liken it to anything except stone setting precision madness, I like it a lot.
What can I say about the churchyard in which it now finds itself, it’s better than a barbed wire encased field that’s for sure, it’s quiet, peaceful, thought provoking, and lovely, are the grave stones too close? perhaps, but that is possibly inescapable in a place like this.
I keep reminding myself to go and look for the tall slender standing stone, about thirty yards north of the church in the trees, one of the few places better to find a prehistoric site than a churchyard is in some woods, these are nice woods, small, but nice.
Upon my return to home, I look on here and find that someone has described Midmar kirk thus.....How can a stone circle feel, well, ‘creepy’? Just superimpose one nihilistic death cult and all its paraphernalia, that’s how. Sorry, can’t feel ‘respect’ for something that shows no respect itself. And I must make a comment of my own, Respect? at least the stone circle is still here, that’s fairly respectful, isn’t it? and calling Christianity nihilistic is a bit like saying that Tim Vine doesn’t know any jokes, perhaps he’s unsure what nihilistic means, sure, some religions have made mistakes in the past, who hasn’t? no one and nothing is perfect. But those recumbent and flankers show an inkling of what perfection may look like.