postman

My real target was the pair of Esslie circles, but seeing as it was so close I just had to have a look at this one too, best decision I made all day.
The Nine stanes of Garrol wood are really close to the road, so the kids decided to let me go on up alone, Mia the dog had other ideas so she joined me.
I don’t half like stone circles that are hiding out in the trees, it lends a tremendous dose of atmosphere to any site. OK, they are conifer trees, planted by us to some unagreeable end, but they’re still better than gorse. Lots of trees have recently been felled opening out the view somewhat, but what is left behind isn’t pretty, not at all.
That ugliness is well off set by one of the best stone circles I’ve ever been to. There are quite a few stone circles that have somehow accrued the name Nine stones, but this is one of those rare occasions when someone who could count named the site. But the name is still so general that I’m surprised there isn’t a stone circle somewhere that’s called stone circle.
The stones are a lovely reddish granite, the recumbent still has both it’s flankers, but one is having a lie down, six remaining circle stones makes nine, well done that man.
From the circle I can see Eric sat on the roof of my car, not ideal but I can stay in touch whist being in this other world, and that’s how this place feels to me, another world, this has been a bit of a crap year for me, packed with such nasties as heart attacks, tax credit disputes, overworked underpaid and my old nemesis Sciatica, but whilst I potter about this ideal location it’s all a billion miles away from it all.
After sitting on the recumbent with dog sitting quietly in lap for what I can only assume was too long Eric shouted me back to reality, it seemed my Garrol wood experience was over, but the reality that awaited me was a good one, Esslie’s the Greater and lesser await my company, two more names that keep rattling round my noggin, beckoning me on, the show aint over til the last names done.

I parked up the road from the Glassel house main entrance, and started off up the track into the forest. Like everyone else we found the route very difficult to traverse, the deep ruts of the track were full of water and about half a dozen trees barred the way, at the end of the track I had no idea where to go, the map was still in the car, very useful, I wracked what’s left of my brain and didn’t come up with a great deal. A large clearing had tree stumps that looked like stones, I resisted Eric’s temptation to go in and have a look, instead we took the dogs along the river, away from the forest track the going was much easier, the path we were following was quite worn, I was feeling hopeful. To our right was the river, to our left was a high bank, I mentioned my worry that the stones might be up the bank but from down here we could walk straight past it without ever spotting it. So I went up for a quick look, and there they were, maps, directions, who needs ‘em.

This was another of those sweet little stone circles set within trees, the dappled light flicked across the small clearing, trees creaked in the breeze, Mia the Jack Russell pottered about the site unsupervised, whilst Arthur, same breed, sat with Eric who now and then yelled like a Bigfoot, Oooooooowhoooooooooo! No reply.

This stone circle is even more of a conundrum than Image wood from whence we’ve just come, in appearance it looked to me more like the Viking long ship stone settings they have in Scandawegia.
Burl calls it a four poster, with a very close outlier, Greywether suggests inlier.
Four stones are very much like a four poster, but then there’s two low stones at one side three yards away is another flat stone, and there’s that inlier, a variant recumbant stone circle, half way between RSC and 4 poster, is another theory, neither is very convincing, and then there’s that old photo with another stone a standing.

One could sit and ponder what it is we have here for quite some time, and still not know. So we sit a while and listen to the birds, photograph the stones and then say goodbye.
Totally unwilling to go back the forest track way, where death by forest track is a definite worry, we follow the wee path by the river, it leads directly to the road right next to where it crosses the river. This is the route you should take, much easier.

The OS grid reference number is out slightly, the real grid ref is NO 524990.

I didn’t know a great deal about this stone circle, in fact only the name of the place had stuck in my mind, Image wood, funny name, how did it get to be called that? The Scots have a wicked sense of humour when it comes to naming places, anyone who comes up with a place name like Twatt, twice, clearly should be in charge of naming places.

I didn’t park near the cemetery, I parked on the B9094, where the Deeside way footpath crosses it. I did have a look down the long straight driveway up to the big posh place called the Mains of Aboyne, north of the circle, but there’s no way to it that way, it’s slightly further than parking by the cemetery, but I’m new here and making it up as I go along.

The woods are very pretty, light and airy, paths go all over the place, picking the one I hoped went in the right direction wasn’t easy, I got it hopelessly wrong and ended up mostly guessing my way there, but get there I did, eventually.
Canmore calls it a four poster, of that i’m fairly dubious, mostly because there’s five stones, but also because Burl says there’s a couple of missing stones, but Burl also goes on to say that it could be a folly built by the big house just north of here.

What ever the reality is behind this circle, one thing for sure is that it’s a good looking site. Sites up on a hill with great views is only just in front, in my mind, to a nice secluded woodland site.
Lovely place.

It’s been quite warm and cloudless for several days now and I’m beginning to think this years summer solstice sunrise might actually happen, when I left the house the sky was clear and by no means dark, even at 3am.
It’s been two and a half years since I was last here and I really wanted to have a look and make sure the gorse bush removal scars had healed, I’ve also had an equinox sunrise and a winter solstice sunrise (too cloudy) so just a summer sunrise to go and I’ve got a full hand.
But more miraculous than sunshine and heatwaves in North Wales, my Sciatic back has finally given up making my life hell and returned to the normal background pain of before.

After taking the wrong turn by the pub in Tal y Bont and ending up near Cerrig Pryfaid, I had to turn about, retrace my journey back and then up the right road, lots of hairpin bends on the right road, note to self.
Parked in the usual place, by the gate, followed the same wall down to the river, which is easily crossed in this heatwave, then the squelchy bit up to the stones. Just in time too, thanks to that miss turn I only very just made it in time.
I get the camera out and prepare to capture this particular stellar moment, but I’m too out of breath and just plain knackered, so I rest for 30 seconds have a drink and then set about the sunrise with some gusto. It’s a perfect sunrise, a big lazy orange ball heaving itself out of the sea and into the sky. I didn’t even realise til now that I could see the sea. It’s really quite warm in the hills today, and that’s not something I often say, it is a beautiful gorgeous day and I cant think of a better way to start the day, though it actually started a couple of hours ago, but still.

Back to the sun rising out of the sea on the solstice, that happens at the Druids circle too, on the equinox the sun rises from behind a medium sized hill at both sites, on the winter solstice the Druids circle sees a sunrise from behind a mountain, ie Tal y Fan, I wonder if the winter solstice from Hafodygors Wen also rises behind a mountain ie Moel Eilio, guess I’ll have to have another crack at the midwinter skive off work day, wont I.
Enough of the skies now, looking down at the stones, I’m extremely heartened to see that there is no sight of any gorse bush removal scar, completely healed so it has, like they were never there at all.
All the place needs now is a little car park, at the gate where I’ve parked, a path, I’ll say it again, a path, a proper one down to the river, where a proper group of stepping stones takes you over the river and up to the stones by the driest route. Then again scratch all that they’d probably put a fence round the stones and put up an information board in an inappropriate place.
Not to my stones your not.

In between Chatton hill rock art panels, and the amazing Kettley crag is this smart little hill fort, well, I think it’s smart, so I’m quite staggered that no ones added any pictures or the site.
The entrance faces south east and on the left side of the entry looking in there is some large chunks of masonry. Two substantial concentric banks with at least one hut circle surviving within. Also within the fort is another rock art panel, apparently dubbed Chatton 4, a very large ring has been carved, next to it a line of quarrying holes, but after seeing picture 80 by Pebbles I can see that there was more there than the big ring, so not only am I crap at finding the art panels I’m also crap at looking at them.
I think I’ll stick mainly to big stones, circles and cairns, so i’ll start with a toddle down the hill to Kettley crag rock art panel.

Like everyone else I mainly came to see Kettley crags amazing rock art but got so much more for my money.
The parking place now has no long shed at all, black or otherwise, I also never saw any information board, but I wasn’t looking for one.
A stile leads one into the first field, there was a poor little lamb stuck under it, Eric tip toed over it then wriggled free and ran off, I joined Eric and we tramped up the hill towards a gate and another stile.
Soon enough we started coming across many rocks and stones, we looked hard, at every sheet of rock and every boulder we came across, but inbetween the car and the trig point we only found the one panel, a very poor performance, if I were a football team I would’ve lost 8-1, if I were an American president I’d have got impeached. In my defence, there’s very little rock art any where near where I live, so i’m more used to looking for big stones, circle and cairns, some of the carvings are quite worn, the light was very bright and not conducive to viewing faint carvings, I cant believe that one myself, either way the big white rock sheet was the only one I found, out of maybe a dozen, very poor. I did find a hillfort no else seems to care about though.

The rock art fraternity have well represented the prehistoric artwork across the road at Chatton hill and Ketley crag, but not one of them have posted anything about this stone circle, ok, it’s not on the map but surely I cant be the first to get here?
Tearing through Chatton wee village on the B6348, look out for the parking place to go up Chatton hill, pass it by at speed and continue until you see a right turn at a long gated farm type track, parking room for one.
Strangely, Eric stayed in the car and my daughter Phil came with me, Two locked gates have to be knocked down, I mean climbed over, the track is long and straight and heads for some conifer trees. At the trees turn left through or over yet another locked gate, remember to fume and swear, this is a public footpath.
It was here at this locked gate that I realised I’d left my map in the car, or dropped it on the way down the track, I thought for a second and remembered all the map and google earth perusing I’d done prior to my arrival, even though it was over a mile from the road I was fairly confident of finding it without the map.
So, straight down the track to the confer trees, turn left and follow the path, green fields to the right, open moorland with stone curlew for added drama to the left. As you slowly go up hill, try to aim for the sharp angle of the north tip of Ros hill wood. Eventually we arrive at a wall, over the wall is a small but pretty lake, also not on the map.
Standing by the wall, I knew we close, look left and up hill, can I see a couple of stones peeping over the low but all covering heather, yes indeed I can, move in closer. Philli has come dressed for somewhere other than where we are and declines the opportunity to gaze upon the stones up close, like, so she sits by the wall and watches her dad wander off in the direction of those very interesting stones again.

Because of a single report of two stone holes found here, other reporters have presumed this is something other than a typical four stoner stone circle, but to my fully opened eyes this is absolutely what it looks like, a four poster.
The two big stones are really quite extraordinary stones, the star stone is perhaps a sandstone, red in colour and triangular in section, the sharp end of the triangle points uselessly at open moorland, or perhaps not. The other big stone is grey in hue, bulbous and cracked with dimples. The two smaller stones are, well, smaller, and less noteworthy, they could be larger than they look. One of the more ground hugging stones is about a yard away from a large hole, a hole that is situated perfectly to take up the final corner of the square, er, circle. It cant be anything other than a stone that has somehow come out of place.
The view is very commendable, Chatton hill and it’s wealth of rock art and hill fort, the North Sea away over the hill, just visible, and the distant Cheviot hills, and nearer to is the pretty lake, framed with heather surmounted by forest. Whooooop!

I like four posters, and Northumberland.
Off to the seaside we go.

Probably best to combine a visit with Waun Lydan standing stone one mile east, I approached from that direction, but I cant say whether it’s the best way up.

So, the walk starts easily enough at Waun Lydan standing stone, Idwal says the way is pathless tussocky grass but surprisingly dry underfoot, I would go along with all that but I’d also add that the place looked to be totally devoid of life, no birds, no insects, nothing, just one mad postman stumbling round muttering to himself. The mutterings were mostly, god! where is it? how much further? and am I nearly there yet?
I couldn’t see the stone from my start point so with limited help from map and compass I just aimed at something in the way and make it up from there, it was further than I anticipated, I nearly turned back, the only thing that kept me going was, you’ll have to come back another time, and I really wanted to avoid that, this hill, not the whole place.
Nearing the top of the hill, for that is where the stone is, I could now see that the black shapes i’d seen from afar was extensive rock outcropping, which was nice. Among the rocks I could see the stone, massive sigh of relief intermixed with gasping for air and then I thought, what if it’s a trig point? I am on top of a hill, I decided that if it was, and I couldn’t see the stone from there, then screw it I’m going home.
Fortunately it was the standing stone, and it was a beauty.
Like it’s not very near neighbour, it is wearing a ground protecting wire mesh skirt, which seems to be working well, and the views again are extensive, to be expected on top of a hill. One mile north is Claerwen dam where land rovers climb, but thats a different show.
There is far more quartz in this stone than it’s neighbour, it is almost all perfectly white, like a covering of soft, refreshing snow. It is very lovely.
When I got there, there was two things that had been placed next to and on the stone, on top of it was a rams skull, complete with long curly horns, it was quite heavy so I didn’t take it home, but I couldn’t leave it on top of the standing stone so I put it on another smaller stone close by, it could still see the standing stone and perform any stone protecting from there. At the foot of the stone was a framed photo of a bunch of paratroopers next to their plane, perplexing, did they all die in a crash here in the last two years? did one of them die in action and this was a place he loved? who knows, it was better than some of the tat you see left at some Wiltshire sites.
On a nicer day with less wind and time to spare, this would be a good place to sit and relax some, but I have to go, right now, so channeling the spirit of tough as nails soldiers everywhere I set off across this grassy desert at a quick march, which then turned into a yomp, and then ended as it always does as a stumbling stagger.

Driving south on the west side of Caban Coch reservoir, look for the end of the lake, there is a left turn by a telephone box and a small car park, if your a good boy, park there and walk all the way, it is a long way.
But if like me, your a naughty boy, take the left turn by the phone box, cross the bridge, turn right and proceed through the Rhiwnant farm yard, real quiet like.
A number of gates have to be got through and it’s about here where you’ll decide that the track has become way too rough and you should have left the car way back there. Unperturbed I left my watch daughter looking after the car, at the end of a long stand of conifers, and started the long walk up hill.

Proceeding up the track the nearest hill right in front of you is the one you want, the track will look like it’s taking you away from where you want to go, passing the car mostly buried by house bricks, wait for the track to split in two, ignore both tracks now and just keep going up, up and a bit more up til you can see the stone.
Avery nice stone is this Waun Lydan, it’s about 6ft tall, vaguely triangular in shape from two sides. At the bottom of the stone it is wearing a wire mesh skirt, is this stone a girl then? or, more likely, is it protecting the stones nether region from snuggling sheep, probably the latter.
Most noteworthy are the quartz seems, orange and white ribboning all over the stone, actual crystals are pooling in places, very nice.
The views from the stone are quite extensive, to be expected from the top of a hill, north, and east are the reservoirs, south are bigger hills like Drygarn Fawr, west is the distant rock strewn hill top of Pen Maen – Wern, site of another stone, even more quartzy than this one. To Pen Maen-Wern we go then.

On the east side of the Garreg-ddu reservoir there is a small wooded waterfall with room for two or three cars to park, as already mentioned by Gladman. Walk back south down the road til you come to the path, a sign states it is a bridleway but I cant imagine many folk take their horses up there, that would be bordering on animal cruelty, like riding round on it’s back isn’t.
The temptation is to follow the stream up but it is impassable, the bridleway is the way. It’s pretty steep going, many pauses were had, and one lie down. Once over a rocky outcrop the path levels out, crosses the small river, the Afon Dolfolau, then heads straight off into the hills.

I knew it was close to the footpath, but I didn’t know it was that close, if your wandering round with your eyes on the hill tops you will fall over it.
After picking myself up I scampered away up the heather covered outcrop right next to the cairn to have an over view of the site, something one has to do, surely. It’s well worth the twenty yard detour.
Back at the cairn and I’m having another lie down inside the monument, it’s stone, grass, earth and ants nest was surprisingly comfy so I closed my eyes for a while, then I remembered my daughter is in the car waiting for me and it took longer than expected to get here, so I arise creaking from my near slumber and set about the place with my camera, it’s very photogenic from most sides.
I wont describe the site, photos do that best, but I will pile a bit of scorn on the Ordnance survey for calling this a cairn, it’s much more, so, scooooooorn.

Not including Ty’n Y Graig, Craig Cnwch cairn with cist, there are three cairns here, one a low stoney grassy mound north of the path by a pair of stones. The other two are left of the path that you might take to Crugian Bach stone circle, both have more exposed stone than the lowest of the three, but not much in the way of cists. Good views of valley and hills, cant see the reservoir from here, but I can see where Rhos y Gelynnen stone row is, away west.

From the south west corner of the woods by The Clyn farm house strike out on the well defined footpath/bridleway south west, first you’ll come to a low grassy cairn, about fifty feet further west is a clump of tall reedy grass which is trying and failing to hide these two big stones.
So Coflein are calling this a stone setting are they? the most non committal naming of a site, ever.
A stone setting, yes, there are stones, two in fact, but a setting? does that not mean they have been purposely set in this position. They look like they are still awaiting their uprighting rather than having fallen.
Both stones are fairly squarish in section, one stone is much bigger than the other and would look good as a  recumbent stone up in Aberdeenshire. These two are not the only prostrate stones in the area, there are more over the hill closer to the stone circle of Crugian Bach, some mentioned by Coflein some not, but all are hiding in tall reedy grasses. Bother. There are also two other stone rows less than four kilometers away. Brilliant.

Leaving Elan village on the small road to Llanwrthwl take the even smaller lane south to the Clyn. Either walk all the way up, or drive up to the south west corner of the trees, by a gate and park there.
I’m not quite sure why this site isn’t grouped together with the other three Crugian Bach cairns, does having a half decent cist afford one ones owns site, apparently.
From the gate by the trees follow the path south east, passing a low cairn and a pair of fallen stones, the cairn we’re after is on a small hillock north of the path, it’s fairly unmissable.

Getting up to the same level as the cairn you can see that it’s a fair sized cairn this one, from one side it’s as tall as me. Cairns are one thing where bigger is better, but better still is to have your cist showing, show us yer cists, get yer cists out, and so on.
The side slabs of the cist are fairly battered and incomprehensible, but the cist lid, the capstone, is still big bright and beautiful and more or less in place, quite an oddly shaped capstone, more hexagonal than rectangular.
From up on the cairn you can see the positioning of the other three cairns, if you know where they are, and the two big stones, and away over the hill the unassuming stone circle of Crugian Bach. Which is where I’m off to now.

I don’t get out as often as I used to, for a variety of reasons, so if I do get the chance it has to be somewhere high on the list, the list has by necessity and my endeavors gotten smaller, the Elan valley is one such place high on my list. I’ve been near here before seeing stone rows and standing stones, but thanks to Gladman a burial chamber and a stone circle had been brought to my attention. But really just a quick look at a good map shows that there’s all sorts of something interesting on just about every hill top. The pretty hills and valleys are a much needed bonus, juxtaposing nicely with the flat concrete of home.

I parked the car as out of the way as possible at SN932633, the top of a farm lane just through a gate by the turn off for the Clyn farmhouse. The stone circle is almost exactly half a mile away south.
The walk starts off with many delays, by way of fallen standing stones and cairns and a cist, some delays are worth putting up with. Then it’s fairly plain sailing through the grasses, mires and bogs until you get out into the middle of this particular no where. There isn’t much around to get ones bearings by, so I wasn’t at all surprised to find that the stone circle was proving elusive, exasperated by the stones lack of height. I could tell I was getting closer when I came across what I presumed were two fallen stones, they looked more like it than the coflein certified fallen pair further north. From these I could see a stone sticking up so I made for that, it was one of those confounding boundary stones, but from that I could see another stone sticking up so I made for that. Tadaa, restlessly wandering about swearing quietly to oneself payed off again, stone circle.

I just cant get into the mind of the prehistoric Welsh, why are the stones so low, big hills, big views, big barren wasteland moors, equals little stones does it? Did they come up with a magical reason for smaller stones, or were they just lazy, was the stone circle fad losing it’s power by the time it got here, yes they needed a stone circle, for what ever reasons, but great big super heavy stones, apparently not.
Is it wrong of me to want a Callanish everywhere, surely part of the draw of standing stones is, how did they do it? that question doesn’t come up here.
I don’t know, I just wish they’d tried a bit harder.

Despite my sizeist reaction to the stones I still liked it here, this is after all a stone circle, over three thousand years old, when three thousand years you reach look so good you will not.
The central stone is intriguing, I think it is exactly that, once standing in the middle, what are they for, some kind of scientific or magical reason or just another trend in stone circle building?
The edge of the circle nearest to cairn topped Y Gamriw has the tallest bulkiest stones, the stones on the other side are barely above grass height. It’s quite satisfying pulling moss and grasses from these lowest stones, bringing them back into the light, it’s usually best to be above ground, Ive found anyway.

I’ve wanted to come here to Garn Boduan for so long that I cant tell how long I’ve been waiting, nor do I know how I first learned about it, it seems like we’ve been waiting for ever to get to meet each other, and when we met (it was murder) the pleasure was all mine, seeing as Garn Boduan is an inanimate object, not alive, or is it. No its not, or is it.

This is the third peak of the day and not the last, and to tell you honestly i’m really quite crackered, things just aint what they used to be. I parked on the B4354 where I presume Gladman did, and started the long walk, hopefully there would be no explosion at the end, unless it’s an explosion of enlightenment.
Despite my exhaustion the walk up the switchback path wasn’t unpleasant, the trees are nice, the views are nice and the weather is still uncharacteristically nice.
Eventually I reach the fort, my first sight of the forts entrance brought a cry of relief from me, “that’s an entrance” I gasped, just as a bloke and his son emerged from god knows where, I presume they didn’t hear me and nod sagely as I pass them. I’m in the fort.

Once through the entrance I’m confronted with a superabundance of large hut circles, but I turn my back on them all momentarily and continue up the hill, there’s a “Citadel” at the top of the hill and that is where I shall start my exploration of the fort. En route to the citadel a couple with a barking dog barr my way, the dog is barking at me of course, I must ooze postie from every pore by now, but I do what I must and I stride through the heather to confront my noisy assailant, why do some people seem to have no control over their animals, they never told it to shut up once, I still smile at them as I pass, but shoot the dog an unsympathetic glare.
They tell me its windy up there, talk about superfluous information.
When I hear the word citadel, I cant help thinking of The Lord of the rings, Minas Tirith mostly. But here on Garn Boduan a citadel apparently is nowt more than a broken wall on top of a hill, no knights, no ale quaffing, and no needy princess, lots of wind though.
I’m not disappointed though, far from it, sat out of the wind in what I presume is a walkers shelter built into one end of the wall, I’ve got a good view of the Rivals and my sexy hill, and much more besides. After a good long rest I get my camera out and set to having a good look round the cit, nope I cant do it, it’s just the top of the hill, ok, so I’m looking round the top of the hill and it’s a bit confusing really. The top of the hill isn’t a big place, at either end of the hilltop is a pile of rubble with scooped out interiors and inbetween them a wall, the wall is still very together and good looking in places. The piles of rubble could be cairns, I hear, and that kind of makes sense, but why have a wall join them, confusing.
From on top, I should be able to see lots hut circles all round me, the information board has them all over the place, but the heather is quite high, and though the huts are without doubt there theyre walls are all quite low, unlike those at Tre’r Ceiri.

So I start the walk back to the south west corner of the fort where all the visible hut circles are. On route another dog starts barking at me, I shall call him Barky, Barky the stupid dog, his mistress to be fair told him to stop it and shut up but he refused and barked at me constantly, I sat and watched and waited for them to go, here theres a cliff type thing where you can stand above the hut circles and take them all in, they do look really good, one of them has walls five times higher than the rest, Im guessing, but I think this one is the one folk sit and eat butties out of the wind in or someone likes to do a spot of wild camping in, i’ll just build that wall up a little bit.
Even here though on the lowest terraces only those huts in the south end of the fort are visible, why cant we see more? has there been some clearing or restoration work done.
Passing by several well defined but low circles I get to the wall, but it’s too overgrown to have the prescribed circuit of the fort,
so I concentrate on the houses.
They’re walls are not as tall as those at Tre’r Ceiri, but better than those at Carn Fadryn, so the middle fort has the middle best hut circles, if that makes any sense at all, I congratulate you.
Then lastly it’s back to the entrance, there is now nobody round to bark at me or overhear me talking to myself, so I have a good look round, I try and follow the wall through the trees round the corner, but it’s all too dense, so I sit for a while on the entrance, it’s all very well defined and the stonework is good, and that’s about it, how much can one say about a long big pile of stones with a gap in it, it’s old and it looks good, and i’m betting much much more, if you reeeally try.
That’s it for round here now, it’s time for a long drive down near Barmouth for the last fort of the day, I’m not sure I have the energy or the time but I’m going for it anyway.

This is not the best hill fort in North Wales, it’s not even the best hill fort within site of Cader Idris, bit it is a North Walean hill fort within site of Cader Idris and that alone gets it on to my list.
Leaving Barmouth east alongside the Mawddach estuary on the A496, turn left at Bontddu, and follow this road all the way, one gate has to be opened and shut, a large parking place soon presents itself, avail yourself of it’s services, and walk. It’s a gentle up hill walk for about a half mile, the fort is soon in view.
It’s only a small settlement, large enough for a single house with family, but they still felt the need to build a large wall round it. Perhaps the other fort across the river had some impact on them.
The highest point of this little fort has a large pile of rubble on it, I don’t know what it is or was, I like to think it is the site of the house, surely it must be.
The stone rubble that was the wall round it does not now go all the way round it, on the west side it’s all grassed over, to the extent that I could not discern an entrance to the site.

It was the mountain view that drew me here, and had the sky remained the same all day it would have been a fine view. But sadly the day has turned, the mountains hidden in cloud and now i’m being snowed on, so it must be time to go, but not before I up my thumbs to the Mawddach estuary and Pared-y-Cefn-Hir hill fort across the way, always great in any weather.

Cor my blimey it’s been ten years since I was last here, time passes far too quickly, in the end there may not be time to do everything one wants, so this spring equinox provides me with the drive to get out and see a few hill forts. Leaving the house at 4am, the plan is to get to Tre’r Ceiri before the sun rises. I very nearly made it too, after parking in the wrong layby, and following the wrong path, which then vanishes whilst I’m checking on the suns progress, forcing me to pick a route, any route, and go up, I’m getting too old for this shite, clearly. The sun approved of my star watching position, sat amid big stone scree two thirds of the way up and granted me a quick glimpse of it’s starry magnificence, before it clothed itself in low clouds hanging over the Moelwyns. It was a quickie sunrise, the sun was as it always is at daybreak, the golden glow wrapped the land in beauty and I smiled my sunrise smile, then it was over, it was like the sun knew I had a few things to do today so it let me get on my way, which I did. I knew early on that I was going up the wrong way, nay, the very wrong way, but it didn’t take me by surprise when upon reaching the very top right next to the cairn, it wasn’t just the wrong way up, it is by far the hardest.
But, easy or steep, hard or soft, I had reached the top. It was windy, really very quite windy, but it was sunny and the countryside was looking good, the sun came back out and after a sit upon the cairn, which was lots bigger than I remembered, I set off down the north west wall. Until I came into the hole in the wall, is it an entrance, a secret exit, is it originally original, post Roman, or what, I sat here too, relishing the stones humble gift of wind blocking. Follow the wall south to the big posh entrance, wonder in silence for a minute or three, then dive into the interior of the fort to get lost among the houses.
There’s maybe a dozen places in the whole of Britain where you can see and touch the past in such a satisfying manner as this, I love the closeness of the houses to each other, I love the size of the walls and the perfect corners, surely there must be some restoration at work here, but it doesn’t matter at all, I am far too blown away to dig up such minor trifles. Now over at the east wall north of the entrance where I should have come in. I sit at the battlements, the rocky outcrop that grows out of the wall, from here Mynydd Carngwch has it’s most evocative side to me, it has the desired effect once more, bending myself back into the upright position I walk over to some hut circles packed in right up to the wall. Then after a bit more hutting I’m back at the main west entrance facing Yr Eifl. It is now that I must decide whether or not to put into action part two of my plan, climb up there and have a meet with the big cairn, I’m cold and a bit knackered, hungry, thirsty, but whilst thinking these thoughts my feet decide for me and i’m off, striding across the wilderness like a man with a plan, which I aint.

It has to be said that though Tre’r Ceiri is a brilliant place to be, the place you want to see it from is on top of Yr Eifl, god what an eyeful.
Outstanding.

Directions – Do as Carl says.

It’s just over a hundred miles from my house, at the far end of another country, but I’ve just had my malfunctioning car fixed so I had to go and see some stones. I’m sure you understand.
I didn’t have an OS map and that worried me greatly, but after reading Carls notes twice, looking on street map and Google Earth I was confident I could find it.

After slowly slipping and tripping up the steep sandy path I reach the summit cairn, all but unrecognisable now, I pause only long enough to acknowledge the ethereal beauty of the fast moving swirling mists and take the Carl path to the stones, my daughter is waiting for me in the carpark at Wentwood reservoir so no time for sitting around.
Some major forestry? work has occurred up on the common, all the trees have been cut down leaving meter high stumps as far as the eye can see, with massive piles of said cut down trees here and there, it was a bit unpleasant. But I suppose it did help me to spot the tall outlying stone, so it’s not all bad.

The tall furthest out outlying stone is rather a good one, if it was nearer to home I’d have come just for that alone, but from here I can see the other outlier, which stands right next to the stone circle, and I’ve been waiting an age to make it’s acquaintance so I go straight over and introduce myself.

The right next to it outlying stone is another impressive tall stone, a small tree with nice clumps of bushy lichen on it stands by the stone, I sent monkey boy up it and another to get a looking down photo of the stones but branches get in the way, I should’ve brought the drone, but frankly I’m a bit scared of it. The sun is beginning to get through now and the mists are lifting, I’m warm so I disrobe slightly and set to tidying up the place prior to photographing the site thoroughly. That can be hard work for my poor back, and if anyone were to see me pruning and whatnot I might get a bit embarrassed, so I keep an eye out for other people. Once, I looked up at a nearby thud and two ponies were being led back home by a grey haired woman, escapees she explains. Right, ok, that’s normal I suppose.

After a tidy up, the sun hits us with it’s full winter force, well, it was bright and sunny, so I dashed round taking pictures, it looked really very nice, the colours seemed to leap out at me, and now the bridges are visible it adds a new dimension to the scene, I don’t like what people do to the planet, but for some reason I do like these big bridges.
Time has run out sadly, the time which I suggested to daughter has been and gone, so I thank the stones, tell them they were good, (they like that sort of thing) and they are good, and take my leave.

Gray hill stone circle is a good one.

I parked to the immediate east of Windmill hill, just off the A4361, opposite East farm, leaving my weary daughter on car protection duties, then made my way up the white horse trail. You only have to follow the path across two or three fields and already it has taken me unseeingly close by three barrows, I did see a lady who looked like she spends a lot of time sitting around ancient places. I could slip into her shoes or wellies as they may be, quite easily. In short time I reach the top, a National trust sign informs me I am at Windmill hill, tell me something I don’t know, another more faded sign shows me there are more barrows up here than I had anticipated, something I didn’t know.

Once through the gate the first barrow is almost on top of you, naturally, I got on top of it and had a look around. Oh dear, there’s much more up here than I had thought. Close to me are more barrows, with ditches winding around and through and off away around the hill. I thought there may have been a couple of barrows at best, I’m not going to have enough time.
Then I make for a barrow shape, only to find it’s one of them funny reservoir thingies. Humph!
From there I make for the big barrow at the top of the hill, only to get beaten to it by a whole family, first on the scene was a little girl who had as much energy and enthusiasm as a football team made of modern antiquarians, she was dancing and spinning round, rolling down the barrow, poking her nose into rabbity holes and everything. Don’t see that very often.
Most of the family left quickly, leaving one adult overseeing the exuberant child, who was playing in the deep ditch of the barrow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a good ditch around a barrow before, reminds me places like Bryn Celli Ddu and Maes Howe.
Time had passed by like I was stuck in a time warp, making it time to get going, I left the hill top to the next generation of barrow rollers, and passed out of view. Then we went home, the motorway was crap.

I’ve been wanting to come here for simply years, it wasn’t until I finally decided upon a return to Avebury that I had a look exactly where it is, and well, blow me down, but I’ve only driven past it about a dozen times. Heaping upon the feeling of my inadequateness I spotted the stone from the road, it was there all the time, practically yelling at passers by to come over and have a look, but oh no, eyes are always well and truly glued upon the avenue stones.
Parking in the aforementioned layby by the avenue stones, cross over and follow the hedge to the site of the circle. As easy as the peasy.
Passing on the way, as you do, the hedge stone, a hefty stone that looks large enough to have once belonged to the very nearby circle, but it is part of an old wall, and is a completely different colour to all the Avebury stones, which are a decidedly pale white, the hedge stone is brown. What this means I can only guess at in an uneducated kind of way.

I can see how someone might just be a touch disappointed with Faulkner’s circle, there is after all only one stone, which may not be in it’s correct position. But not me though, I liked it a lot.
Firstly I was taken a back as to where it actually was, hardly equidistant, but between Ridgeway and the Avenue of stones, barrows crown the horizon on the Ridgeway. Secondly, why did they put a stone circle here, so close to the Avebury whopper, it doesn’t make much sense, it’s like building a church in a cathedral porch. But then nothing round here makes much sense, it’s a sensory overload, stoney saturation point was reached some time ago, about another dozen trips to Avebury and I might get to see it all.
Still haven’t walked along the Ridgeway to have a closer gander at them big barrows, nor have I been to East Kennett long barrow, the polisher or the spring. But there’s still time today to take in one more never been to, and it’s up hill.
Bye stone.

I haven’t been here for years, it was even before I had a digital camera, my memories of the site are kind of dulled by time but I distinctly remember being underwhelmed. Seeing as we’ve taken lunch from Greggs of Marlborough this would be the optimum moment to revisit and see if my memories are reliable.

Parking is a problem, there is no where to do it.
I tried on the main road, but that didn’t feel safe at all, so I opted to park in the same place as Carl despite the sign saying park here and we’ll tow you away, like Carl I left backup in the car in case of emergency.
The walk up the track is very muddy, but the sun was shining, the birds were flying and I was ready for some stones. As you get to the barn you can see the dolmen, I pause a while here and ponder the barns use as viewing platform up the valley, decide i’m being silly and keep on splashing through the mud.

I enter the enclosure of the Den and approach the stones, much is made of the fact that you’re allowed to go to the stones any time you like, permission is already given. But, if there’s no where to park your motor it’s just a bit of a laugh isn’t it, probably best to get Scotty to beam you straight to the site, walking? who needs it.
A big chunk of concrete helps support the stones, no one seems to mention it much, but there you go. They also call it a dolmen, is it really a dolmen? a portal dolmen maybe? I don’t think it is, yes it’s a stone lifted upwards by other stones, but that doesn’t make it a dolmen does it?
If you like dolmens go to Wales.

But none of this means I don’t like it, I do, very much, what it does mean is that a place as famous as this should have a little car park, just a simple one will do, one without fear of being towed away. And I’d like to know exactly what it is that remains of what, is it really a dolmen, is it all that remains of another big chambered cairn, or is it a mad folly, were any burials found, what do we really know about it.
My ponderings were then rudely broken by my daughter in the car saying that a tractor with a big spikey thing on the back was there, so I said I was on my way, waved cheerfully to the stones and left readying myself for yet another confrontation with the farming fraternity. But it didn’t happen, he just passed me by on the track.

Still, not hard to understand my slight disappointment with the place last time. Stones, it’s not you, it’s me.

I first came across this defended settlement whilst blue spotting on Coflein some years ago, always keen to find somewhere new to observe I spied it through the looking glass that is google earth, and it looked good.
But it can take me a while to get there, sometimes it can take years, as it did here. During my journeys elsewhere, esteemed TMA’er Gladman came over and had a look and provided much picturey goodness, it does look good. I’m on my way Craig.

Two dolmens, a cairn circle, five standing stones, and a cairn have seen us through most of the day, but Ive seen them all before so as far as I’m concerned I’ve saved the best til last.
Dark skies are brooding over the mountains, there is no threat of rain from them, this afternoon they are for aesthetic appearance only. But Thesweatcheat and I are basking in the late golden glow of a beautiful December day, the light right now is just sweet, you could bottle it up and sell it for a million pounds a bottle. Bloody cold though, the biting winds are searching out gaps in my umpteen layers of clothing, there are no gaps, but it’s still cold.

Leaving the Pont Scethin stones behind us we head south walking the more or less level ridgeway up to the fort, the ground is littered profusely with rocks, I note like Gladman the small pointy ones that remind us of those black and white horses, whilst noting them I cracked my knee on a big rock, cor strewth that hurt, still does several days later, heroically I said nothing .
As anticipated we reached the fort, as this is the easiest route to the fort I was kind of expecting the entrance to be here, but it weirdly is just left around the corner on the forts east side, but we didn’t know that until we had already climbed up and over the high rampart, instead of the expected entrance there are two extra lines of ramparts at the north end.

Once in the fort I follow Alken on an anticlockwise peripheral walk, but I soon get distracted by the large chunk of sloping bedrock with a small boulder resting upon it’s very top, I park my arse on the slope and take in the scene, it is very lovely. The sea view is a good one, that’s where the blue sky and sunshine are coming from, the far off Lleyn peninsula succeeds in looking further away than it is, the Afon Ysgethin is a river of lava, lit up perfectly by the soon to be setting sun.
The mountain view is better still, dark clouds keep the peaks mostly in shadow whilst the sun does it’s thing lighting up the mountain sides, the way light hits something at this time of day is, well, it’s special, it shouldn’t be, it’s just the ground interacting with light that’s spent longer in the Earths atmosphere, but, my it makes you take a deep breath and stare longingly for this kind feeling all the time.

Three of us have been here now but the other two both said it was better than they were expecting, do they not do there homework, tsk, for me it was just what I was expecting, I knew it would be a good one, and the good weather was a true bonus, Voodoo priestess I love you.
The walls, in places, are in what looks like still genuine iron age build, true I wouldn’t know if there’s a difference between their walling techniques and those from other time periods, but it’s there, and it looks good. Presently we have worked our way round to the entrance, it’s a bit small, and curly, and someone has shifted rocks around to make a throne, are you seeing this Fowler, i’m looking your direction. Out of the entrance and down hill fifty yards are hut circles, I think I saw four, one of them is in very good condition, very good for almost gone anyway.

Back up to the fort and it’s time for the sun to sink into a low bank of cloud that hugs the far horizon, once more I totally and inadequately manage to photograph the moment. A few deep breaths later and it is sadly time to go, there will not be time to search out the cairnfield almost right next to the fort, it is going dark and we’ve a long drive home, nothing more to look forward to today except the drive home with lovely Lisa Tarbuck, but I will most assuredly be back soon, well, relatively soon.

Oh God, is that Dale Farkin Winton?

The map just says cairn, and I think we found a cairn, well, it was a slight bump with several stones protruding, if it’s where maps says a cairn is then it must be a cairn. But for some reason know it all smarty pants Coflein says it’s a double cairn, whatever one of them is. It gives no more information at all, there is only one cairn, and even that one is easily ignored, as it is almost flush with the ground.

Dear Coflein
About this double cairn at Pont Scethin, I believe you have been grossly mislead, so I submit myself for employment at your soonest convenience, presumably when you have laid off your current, erm...fool?
Yours sincerely
Postman

New and improved fool proof directions.
Presuming you’ve gone past Bron y Foel Isaf, turned right into the fields by the footpath sign, and arrived easily at the ruined buildings with two pine trees. Now follow the wall from the ruins south, climbing unsteadily over two low loose walls, look right for an alcove in the field wall, pass it by and in the corner of this field is a gate. The east/west wall by the gate is actually aligned on the cairn circle. Go through the gate into the field towards a small circular group of bushes, the stones encircle the bushes.
Moving through the field towards the stones is harder than it sounds, the grass is very long, the ground very uneven and riddled with tiny streams.
The bushes within the ring are much more grown than my first time here, nine years ago, I couldn’t find it second time round, but I didn’t have fool proof directions like this time. Found it very easily, went straight to it.
The undergrowth, even in December, is covering the stones far too much, part of me wants to spend all day there cleaning up, chopping back, revealing stones, perhaps on a warm day in March, maybe I will, but I probably wont.
The cairn circle is in places several courses high, I find it hard to believe the kerb stones of a cairn circle would be on top of each other. Some fiddling seems to have gone on here, some large stones stand slightly off the circumference, a group of stones off the circles south west corner, suggest, something, Alken reckoned it might be another circle or something, maybe, they are very suggestive.
Some of the stones are very large, some are standing edge on to the cairn. It really does need clearing up.
The light was just amazing, the sun poured down upon us, blue skies over the sea, but cloudy darkness over the mountains. The weather and the light can make or break a site, I cant even imagine how gloomy and depressing the place would be in fog and rain, am I turning into a fair weather stoner?
Probably.

It’s been nearly four years since my last confession to Bron y Foel Isaf.
I am now fully prepared to accept Moelfre as a sacred hill, or at least a mother hill, a focal point, I think all the sites seen today have had a view of cairn topped Moelfre.
In the opposite direction to mother hill is the far away looking Lleyn peninsula, floating mysteriously in the air, itself dotted with lots of burial chambers.
The wall is very unsteady around the dolmen, stones moving under every movement, be careful, or don’t, even push the confounded wall over maybe.

Haven’t been here for seven years, the stones are as lovely as ever, the shorter stone is still half white with what I presume is lichen, and it has a small notch in its western edge, it aligns with a young ladies bedroom on the road a hundred yards away, it could, you don’t know.
The taller stone does have some white lichen but not much, it does have a quartzy shine to its side, and it does have a good shape.
The tree is still there and looming large over the stoney pair, I like trees, I once stopped visiting stones for a while and took up visiting heritage and remarkable trees, one thing trees have over stones? they’re alive.

But most radical and astounding of all, the god awful fence has gone, it was all the way round the stones and the tree, it was too close to the stones, sure you could climb over but that’s not point, it was ugly and in the way. But now it’s gone and it looks like it was never there, I wonder what prompted them to remove it. Other sites that could benifit from a good defencing, Bodowyr, Lligwy, Kits Koty, come on every one get your fences off.

The first time I came to Gwern Einion portal Dolmen I had no clue this was here, even though I’d climbed the gate in the second picture, right next to the stone. But farmer told me off for not using the footpath, that I also didn’t know was there, so I didn’t come back this way and kept on not knowing it was there.
But Rhiannon added the site page and a misc post and I saw it on Coflein so I couldn’t miss it again could I.

A somewhat oddly shaped standing stone, it cant be seen from the other side of the wall as it goes round the stone rather than just upto it. That’s all really.
The nearby gate now has barbed wire on it to stop itinerant townies wandering at will, well he should get out of the bloody way, should Will.

Thesweatcheat asked me how long it had been since I last came here, I wasn’t confident I knew precisely so I guessed, five years maybe, ha! I was miles out, the answer surprised me, it was just over one year, September last year ? What could this mean, anything? am I not paying attention and just wandering willy nilly and not taking any of it in? Am I seeing stones so much that it all melds into one long stoning day? Or do I always live in the now, the impact of my last trip here is undeniable, is it important when I was here? Nah.

What I like most about this Dolmen is that it’s amid old and ruined farm buildings, it would not be good at all if the buildings were in use, you’d have to don the meek face and ask permission, pah, not into that.
The dolmen is old, the buildings are not, but they are, if you get me. I like seeing it peeking over the old walls, I like seeing it through the old roof space of the big building, of course you have to climb onto the wall to see it like this, there’s so many ways to see this dolmen. I’ve seen a few dolmens in different surroundings, some in woods, some on hill sides, some in field banks, but mostly just sitting in an empty farmers field, but Gwern Einion is in a pretty singular situation, and I like that. How boring would it be if they were all in a grassy field, well, not boring, but variety is the spice of life , is it not?

Follow the directions for the cairn next door, or even better get a Sweatcheat to navigate for you, cant go wrong.
You’ll see the cairn first and you’ll see the Arm chair before you see the circle. Fowler was a Giant, and giants like people like to lounge around and ponder the universe whilst watching the clouds drift by, perhaps he had his mate Dicky round, though where he would have sat I couldn’t say, and that’s if you could get him off his stool, they’re a strange bunch Giants.
The Arm chair is unfortunately of the extremely uncomfortable variety, a block of sandstone, two foot tall by three feet long by a foot and a half wide, approximately. It lies within the circle, not central.

Kammer noted only three stones to the circle but Coflein said there’s four, so I had a poke round with my boot tip on what looked to be the circumference of the circle, and as if by magic a stone uncovered itself before us, Alken seemed impressed, sadly my boot detected nothing more, except the usual countryside fouling.
Ordnance survey seem quite confident that this is a stone circle, but Coflein only goes as far as possible, I’m very confident of it’s reality, sure, there’s only four stones left, but it’s placement, and it’s view, especially the long one towards the winter sunset, I’m sold.

Presuming you’ve got to the insignificant no-where that is Davids Well, head west on the only turning and go as far as you can, park.
Walk.
Up hill following a track, at the top turn right, walk straight on passing a quarry, the cairn may soon be made out below you, between the slight hill your on and the next one.

We arrived just before sunset, just in time, which is good seeing as this was the seventh site of the day, it doesn’t often go according to plan, but today it did, which was good, as I’ve said.
Coflein says of this cairn........ A much disturbed disturbed cairn, 13m in diameter and 0.4m high, showing kerb stones to the NE....... So it’s in an actual class of cairns called disturbed and it’s then been disturbed, further? disturbing grammar aside, the cairn is very disturbed, only the north east kerbing is possibly original, but it still goes all the way round, disturbed.
Some stones of the cairn are neatly piled, disturbed, and in the middle where one might expect a cist, only a jumble of cairn, with one possible stone that looks like it might come from a cist. Disturbed.

The large rock right next to the cairn is The Arm chair of the Giant Fowler, and encompassing it is the still discernible stone circle.
One very good thing about the site is the view down the valley, perhaps aligning the stone circle with the cairn and the mid winter sunset.

En route to Folwers Armchair from Caer Caradoc in southern Shropshire a fiddle of small roads must be dithered through, no road went straight there, it was this way and that, up and down, and along, quite suddenly we found ourselves on a lonely road over the hills passing a trio of barrows, we stopped for a look.

Barrows 1, 2 and 3, the first two are on the north side of the road. the western most of the two had sheep and a metal farm related wotsit on top, bit rude, but the barrow is large and the sunlit grass bright. The eastern of the pair is again quite large, but curtailed by the minor road on it’s south side.
The lonely barrow on the south side of the road is perhaps the largest, and is also called Dicky’s stool, Perhaps he was a giant and he left this little message, a sample, for our bemusement, colour me bemused, and brown.

Like Carl, both Alken and myself commented on the niceness of the place, the low sun shone sporadically on the substantial barrows and distant hill tops.
Very nice, but it’s not a stone circle, so we carry on our way.

There is a high risk of repeating Carl here, word for word, so I will try to dodge words like wonderful, fabulous, and idyllic. But it will not be easy, because he is absolutely spot on.

We parked near Wax Hall west of the fort, blocking an unused gate by the road, then walked to the first foot path leading to the east and passes the fort on it’s north side, I think that still left one fence to jump though, maybe.
We entered the fort through the eastern entrance, shades of iron age peasants applauded our arrival, or it might have been a strong wind, which might also have been rather cold.
Neither of us were expecting such deep ditches and high banks, there’s at least two Caer Caradoc’s in Shropshire, I’ve been to the other one two or three times, it’s not anyway near as good as this one, I really should have been here years ago.
So with a mixture of incredulity and awe upon our faces we followed the lower rampart west on the forts south side. A small Hawthorn tree still bearing bright red berries autumned its way by us as we moved west, Jim of the doors was right the west is the best. Soon enough we arrive at the western entrance, like Carl we were reminded heavily of Maiden Castle, no not that one, the big one. The west gate is a complex of deep ditches running away from the central walkway, high banks in between, it really is quite fab, aah I mean amazing, that was close.
I spotted a pair of shadows following us, so I photoed them, I waved but got no return. Entering the fort through the massively impressive west gate we walked round the interior, passing a shake hole? or abandoned mine shaft or ritual area or hole, yes, it was definitely a hole, and on to look out through the eastern entrance where we first came in. Then it was back to the super entrance and then follow the rampart back east along the northern side. Along this northern rampart we spotted at least three house platforms, I think that’s the proper speak, if not, then they were the site of some kind of building, cannily hidden out of the wind. The sun began to come out from it’s cloudy hiding place, when it shone upon the trees across the valley illuminating the yellows, browns, and reds of autumn, shining upon the wet grassy fields, it was better than good. Almost said idyllic then.
After walking along the triple set of banks we were back at the eastern entrance, we had performed the obligatory circuit of the fort, the very least a visitor should do at a hill fort. But it was getting later in the day and there is a site with a name that burns a deep hole in my obsessive mind, he has an armchair you know.

Much has changed in the last almost fourteen years on the modern antiquarian, people come and people go, theories get aired then discarded, and apparently you used to be able to add a spurious site without any disputed antiquity tag being applied.
Great Hagley is one of those sites.
I’ve been a TMA’er for quite a while now and during this time I’ve clicked on just about every site contained therein, including this large standing stone, it immediately went onto my list of places to see, just like the Murder stone and Minninglow. But even though the stone is not marked on any map, and it’s not listed on any monument record, here it is parading around like an actual menhir, if it had a disputed antiquity tag I might not have come, indeed it is not very easy to get to either.
And, the fact that there is no granite anywhere near here, throws more doubt into the mix. Ok, a more famous place than this imported lots of stones from some far away place. But would you bother with it for a solitary standing stone?
If it is hard to imagine why ancient man would go so far for a piece of granite then it’s even harder to imagine why some one in more modern times would go so far for it. Besides, I find it a touch difficult to believe that mindless rock diligently sticks to geology maps, or that geology maps are 100% infallible.
Marks in it’s favour are few, it isn’t a scratching post, (if such things exist at all) unless cows round here are as tall as elephants, never saw any cows near here anyway. It’s in a good position for a stone like this, with the immaculate Caer Caradoc hill fort across the valley, and many becairned hill tops on the horizon. But maybe that suggests it was put here after the fort was built.
Quite annoying isn’t it.

But having had my whine and whinge, it’s always good to scratch that itch, it is now crossed off the list, and slowly fading from the obsessive side of my mind. Now it is time to go some where that is definitely, certainly and prominently ancient.

This east west aligned late Iron age settlement is a rectangle with slightly rounded corners, in a green grassy field on a slight ridge, sitting as it does, above Ferny Dingle and Darky Dale. Not much reason to come all this way for, indeed, we only stopped because we were passing.

Barely more than a week after my first failure here, I’m back for another go at this elusive cairn and cist. Once more I drive up through the forest on a very rough track, hairpin right turn, then a long looping left bend, the map shows a footpath running through here, couldn’t see it last time and I couldn’t find it this time, it has, most regrettably, gone.
So I end up having to park in the same place as I did last time, but I now know where the stream is, and to turn left there. The cairn is, map says, in between the stream and the footpath, I’ve already verified that the footpath has now gone, so I follow the mountain biking path to said stream , turn left and make my appearance on the large clearing seen on maps and google earth.
What an unpleasant place this is, absolutely dreadful, just awful, let me explain. It’s not Wales’ fault, that’s to be sure, they put up a forest here, and then reaped it completely, I’ve seen what the earth looks like after they’ve taken all the trees, like a hundred bombs went off, like the Somme without the bodies, sorry, but it’s just that bad, with tall grass all over it, at times chest height, holes that are leg deep, streams pass by heard but unseen, it is very slow going, nay it is a dangerous place to walk/wade.
Needless to say, that after two hours of solid swearing at the ground I failed to find it again, it’s not big to start with, only ten feet wide and zero feet high, but the cist in the middle should be visible, V.P.Williams or maybe F.Foster from Coflein was there in March 2006, so I’m a bit stumped. I found a couple of likely looking maybe cairns, but both were too high and no cist. I looked under trees, I looked at all the grassy bits, all the stones, anything that peaked my curiosity got a good staring at, but, in the end I had to admit defeat. So I slumped onto the ground on what wasn’t a cairn, and stared intently at the Snowdonian view north and west, it is a very good vantage point to see all the big mountains, on that ground alone I am still convinced there is a cairn with a cist up here somewhere. But in the back of my mind I remember that were all human and prone to making mistakes now and then.
Back down by the stream I start looking in a place I know the cairn not to be, but the hillock had short grass and some stones were visible, so I had a look, and found a low wall, with a horseshoe shaped open enclosure built into the lower end, I dont know what it is , but it’s not a cairn with a cist in it, I decide to ask coflein when I get home, perhaps I can pin down the cairn if I know exactly where this “thing” is. I did, it’s not on there.
Siiiiiiiiigh !
Defeated.
If someone else finds this cairn before me I’ll drop me pants on Burton’s corner on Saturday afternoon.

No field notes for eleven years, that’s not right.
When approaching by car head for the dead end lane that takes you to Meddiant and Bryn-popty, round about here you’ll come across a field gate on the right side of the lane with a footpath, leaving annoying children in the car by the gate, strike off into the field beyond. Follow the car tracks through the field into the field further up the hill, left and across the next field through the gate in the hedge, and the burial chamber is across this field in the trees.
Easy, even with cows, which kept a respectful distance of about two feet.
This is a very good place, even without the ancient site this would be a good place to sit and watch the world unfold, as I approached the stones I interrupted a pair of Buzzards, which called loudly as they flew off. My only little niggles are the state of preservation of the chamber and the trees that cover the view of the mountains. The trees I can forgive, but I would really rather the chamber stood up a bit more, its quite difficult working out which way is the front and back. But these are very minor niggles, easily overlooked when compared to the fact that you can still get into the chamber, under the capstone you can see the size of the supporting stones, and whats more no red paint.
The two tall pillars that look like they are behind the monument but aren’t are good, if a little choked by barbed wire, and the capstone is a big one, very impressive big, a big stone with two smaller ones, humph, i’m reminded of the two obnoxious kids in the car and remember they couldn’t be trusted with an angels innocence and start the short but cow barred walk back, the cows were good, perhaps they recognised another put upon soul and commiserated with me, and I them.

The 1:25000 map confidently states there is a cairn circle here, Coflein says there was once a cairn here but is now mostly destroyed, precisely they say.....A vague, turf-covered rise, c.12m in diameter & 0.2m high, showing a few scattered stones, remains of a mound levelled in 1951.
I couldn’t even see that, there’s nowt left of it at all, please don’t turn up expecting to see something cool, it has gone, I’ve been so you don’t have to.

When I first started looking at Snowdonia with an eye for ancient things, naturally my eyes turned to the areas around Betws Y Coed and the Fairy Glen my favourite places from childhood holidays, with the right map you’ll notice a pair of cairn circles not far from Rhydlydan, just south of the A5.
So it was quite a while since I last came here, quite a while since I last failed to find it, so after an aborted attempt to find Iwerddon cist I thought I’d give this place another go, a well overdue another attempt.
I probably parked in the same place, by some large black bin bag barrels, I probably jumped the fence in the same place too, but unlike last time I came alone, leaving negative nay sayers in the car.
Two, small, barely wet streams need to be crossed, the cairn circle is right next to the stream furthest from the road, ive been doing this for a number of years now and was quite confident of finding it this time round, but, I just couldn’t see it. It was difficult to discern stream from ditch or dyke or what ever, I could feel the site slipping away from me again, so I note that on the map the stream the Cairn circle is next to runs down across the hill side from the very corner of the field, so I go up to the corner grab the stream by the tail and doggedly follow it down the hill.
A supremely fantastic idea which paid off handsomely, on the way down the stream I noted a few groups of stones which I though might be it, then I saw it standing there brazenly winking at me, it was right there all the time, I must have walked within feet of it several times.
No wonder I couldn’t find, what I usually do is go to high ground and look round from there, but from this angle it just melts away into the hillside, it’s even more invisible from below it, only stood right next to it can it be seen.
A low doughnut half buried in the grass with a few stones passing them selves off as kerb stones.
This site wont get your groin fizzing, but is maybe worth a look if your going along the A5 before you get to Snowdonia proper.
After my earlier failure it was good to find something so elusive, thumbs up? nay, a fist in the air.

Three or four miles south of Betws Y Coed is the small but nice village of Penmachno, and about a mile east of Penmachno amid a profusion of footpaths and low walls is a duo, or trio of cairns, one with a cist.
I parked on the road south of the cairns and followed the path through the back yard of Foel house, where a nice old man pointed out the way the path went, but beyond that he couldn’t help, we went off the way he’d pointed.
The 1:25000 map says there are three cairns, but one is represented on the map only as a dot, it’s not mentioned on Coflein, and we couldn’t find it, so either it’s not ancient, or it’s not there.
So ignoring the dot cairn we rove and roam in what I hope is the direction of the other two, but I’m struggling to orient myself in this maze of paths, farm tracks and low hill tops.
It doesn’t help that I did not re look over Coflein to make sure I know what i’m looking for, I just know there is a cist here somewhere.
Whilst i’m looking over towards Snowdonia and pointing out Moel Siabod to anyone who’ll listen, ie: talking to myself again, I turn around and there, plain as day is a good large cist, I giggled slightly but no one noticed, a cist with a view of a well known becairned mountain, I’d hoped Id be able to see it but you never know till you get there. There are more cists in cairns much closer to Moel Siabod, I wondered if there was a link, further than the rocky mount.
The good large cist has all four sides, but one end has fallen outwards a bit, and all contained in what we must presume to be cairn, there are no stones, no cairn material showing, just a few lumps and bumps that are scarcely any higher than the cist.
Looking for the other cairn was a futile and fruitless concern, how far from the other cairn is it? don’t know, in what direction precisely? don’t know, What does it look like? don’t know.
There are several low knoll’s between the cist and a farm track, one of them must be it, but then, who’s interested in maybe cairns, cairns are definitely one thing where size matters.

The entrance to this cave is getting a bit overgrown, there’s lots of dead wood and a fire pit mar the extreme beauty within, so after a bit of a tidy up I take to photographing this apparently small cave.
The cave has a smaller cave at the back, but it is a short dead end. Another smaller grotto goes into the right wall, but it is an even shorter dead end. The left wall of the main chamber kind of resembles elephant teeth, between one of the teeth is a small passage, crouching low I waddle inwards, as the passage turns right it goes over a step and I’m able to stand up. The walls have red stuff running down them, the bleeding heart of Elderbush cave it’s like i’m in a living beast. Then the battery went in my camera and I’m entombed in darkness, after a short but intense freak out I put my clothes back on and wriggle free of the small tight space, blinking in the bright light in the main chamber, I try to coax my camera into a few more pictures but it’s well and truly dead, not pining for the Fjords, just dead.

I’d need about a dozen pictures to convey the wonderful loveliness in this cave, it is everything Tolkien would have liked, as well as the elves themselves, I can imagine sitting in this cave, fully clothed, just as the sinking sun poured it’s magical embrace all over us, I’d really like that I think.

Ps, I never take my clothes off at ancient places, I’ve thought about it, but never have, don’t be scared.

From the entrance of Thors cave follow the path up round the back and up to the top of the Tor, so the cave is directly below you, after admiring the view up and down the wooded Manifold valley, go left, right on the edge of the cliff is this fast getting overgrown cave.
A rather odd name, don’t you think? seven ways what, into the cave or steaming fish?
The entrance to the cave today is through the large collapsed wide open area, once your in there, theres three arches through which to observe the sun not doing anything in particular. 180 degrees from the three arches the cave continues to go back for a while, it’s not a big one, compared to Thor’s cave it is but a slight depression.
Dont stay too long or you might not have enough time to explore Elderbush cave, one of the best places in all of England.

It wasn’t easy getting to the car park South of the caves, a diversion took me round Alstonefield, I got all turned round and my mind seemed to melt, getting there was a fairly hit and miss episode, but get there I did, eventually.
I followed the river Manifold for about a mile during one of it’s disappearing underground tricks, there’s one quite cool thing to see already, then the huge rocky tor comes into view and ones gaze is thrust upwards, it’s a long way up.
Crossing a now rather defunct bridge the path goes upwards through the woods, taking a right hand turn I am only guessing which way to go, it’s been at least decade since I was last here. Suddenly I realise I’m getting very close, and then I’m there, thankfully I was the only one present.
I carefully scramble up the entrance to the cave and learn early on how slippy it is in there, imagine a cartoon character suddenly finding themselves on ice, how I remained vertical I’ll never know, perhaps it’s ‘cause I’m a big fan of everything Asgardian.
First I go over to the big crack in the right hand wall, it is apparently a serviceable entrance/exit to the cave but you need to have the skills of a snow leopard mountain goat, my skills barely approach those of a long legged bird, or something else totally without balance. I call this crack the suicide exit. Turning 180 degrees the cave splits in two, Thors nostrils Stubob called them, I see no reason not carry on this simile. So I slip and skip off up the left nostril, the simile carries on once inside, the floor is covered in a lubricious muddy clay.
There are gaps in the cave wall where you can see into the other nostril, the feeling is one of being in a cathedral, so I did what I always do in a cathedral, I took all my clothes off and writhed around on the floor speaking in tongues.
No, of course not.
The right nostril was just as slick, but it goes further back and it’s got puddles, I really must invest in a big torch, it was most unseemly getting about in the dark using only the flash on my camera.
I find a dry spot on what would be Thor’s philtrum and sit round for a while, marveling at all the colours in the cave, reds, greens, browns and all in between, the trees out side the entrance going up the Manifold valley are perfection.
I’m snapped back into reality by voices, I build up the fire rouse my family grab the spears and run off into action, yelling like madmen.
Could have happened, once.

The last time I came here I spent too much time climbing around on the rocks and in the cave to go up to the top by the trig point, consequently I missed out on the the best view, the natural but funky menhirs, the rock chair and the now all but gone neolithic chambered cairn.
There’s no end of places to go in this part of the Peak district, but I thought I’d come back here and finish off my look around the rocks, nine years later.
I trail after a couple of climbers hauling big bundles of ropes up the hill, they soon go one way so I go the other and make my way straight up to the top, to find the rock chair. Up on the top is an out of place chap in a suit and tie walking his dog, we nod as our paths cross, finding the chair isn’t as simple as I thought it would be, naturally it is the same colour as all the other rocks. But a few minutes later and I’m sat between it’s welcoming arms, the same year that I last came, six months later and someone has tried there best to destroy it, in Stu’s pic of the chair the breaks are bright and tear wrenching, but now it’s all the same colour and I had to remind myself that not long ago it looked even better. But one thing that hasn’t changed in the last ten years is the big factory thing at the foot of the hill, its really quite an eye sore. But the rest of the views are excellent, Carsington water, Minninglow and Aleck low, a fleet of wind turbines and all the gnarled rock beneath my feet, all good stuff. After lounging round in the chair I go up to the trig point, passing the presumed whereabouts of a Neolithic chambered cairn, now all gone. Amid the rocks on the hill top are a couple of natural menhirs, one points towards Minning Low, kinda, the other has a basin in it’s top, with a plug hole, cool.
Going back down the rocks to a lower terrace we come to the cave, a large squarish cave made of the edges of massive blocks of stones, it has a chimney, which you could fall through from above if your not careful. In the lowest corner the cave dips under a large boulder and goes off into a cramped dark who knows where, I got as far as I could without getting filthy before I turned back. I love caves, kind of scary, secluded, atmospheric places, I decide to go to Thors cave there and then. So off back to the car after another long look at some of the rock formations, and what looks like a short souterrain, is it a spring well, a drain of some kind or what, I dunno, it’s weird.
Minning low looks pretty good on the horizon, but it was a bit too misty to get a good photo.

I parked to the west of the barrow on the side of the road next to an old quarry, a bit further down the road a footpath heads east along a farm type track. After the footpath turns right keep going along the track until it peters out in an undergrowth choked kind of way. Then head up hill and there’s your barrow, no shouting, no chill busting farmers, just a quiet peaceful place with a great big barrow.
I’m fairly appalled at Stubobs visit when he came across four dead cows in the barrows scooped out interior, no such disgrace here today though, so I perch my butt on the craters rim, and rain down negative vibes upon the farm yonder, hopefully they’ll go bust one day soon, them and many more. Is it too negative to be disgruntled at not being allowed to go somewhere?

The first time I tried to get up to this cairn I ridiculously tried to get there with two dogs and Eric, who to his credit had a very gung ho attitude, but even though three fences barred our way it was the cows that sent us packing and hoping for better results next time.
Next time....
After staring at Lean low for quite a while from Arbor Low, I reckoned my chances of getting up there were pretty good, early in the morning on my own, what could go wrong.
Parked my car across the road from the footpath stile, not a problem, walked through the stile and into the field, now, the footpath goes off in totally the wrong direction, there is no footpath that helpfully drops one of at the cairn, so I deviate from the path and head for the corner of the field. Stepping over the electric fence, I’m reminded of why electric fences aren’t funny, but there’s something else round here that’s not funny, it proceeded now to shout at me, I couldn’t tell what it said nor could I see it, but I know what angry farmer sounds like so I step back over the fence and walk the fifty yards over to the footpath and follow it, willfully walking away from where I’m trying to get to. There’s nothing for it but to ask the farmer for permission to access the ancient monument ironically placed in his custody, but thankfully not the shouty one.
I approached the quad bike riding farm guy, with my “I want to talk to you” face fully on, he didn’t come over until it was obvious the weird bloke from far away was going to stare at him until he came over, so he did.
I asked as politely as my mother would have liked if it would be OK to have a look at the cairn on top of the hill, but it went the kind of way I rather expected it would, he said no, he did not say yes, he definitely didn’t say sure mate I’ll give you a lift up there right now, no, he said, I’ve got bulls up there, I resisted glancing at his crotch, thanked him kindly, turned and walked away, back to the car.
As I was walking along the big A515, a large black 4x4 drove slowly by, I readied myself for diving into the verge, but no gun appeared so I kept going.
Fifty yards away from my car the big back monster truck pulled up right next to mine, here we go I thought, English farmers are the worst of all, I clenched my fists and several sphincters, and walked over to meet the driver, He said “what are you doing?”
“Your Mother” then I punched him in the face, or I might have said I’m trying to get upto that cairn, one of those things anyway.
“What? he said,
I rolled my eyes, and took a deep breath.
I pointed up at the cairn, “you know what a cairn is?“, I motioned a hand in a cairn shape, “an ancient burial mound made of stones, that cairn there” he then proceeded to take my photo, that’s a cheap trick, hang on mines in me pocket, he also said some other things but I couldn’t understand his inane waffle, his thick accent, probably a scouser. I tried to exude an air of utter bemusement. Then he was gone, like a thief in the night, or a pig in shit, or a dick in a big car. I unclenched everything and sat in my car for a minute until I’d stopped shaking, then I thought, hopefully later today he’ll look at the picture he took of me and he’ll recognise a look on my face that he probably hasn’t seen for a while, a look that says he thinks I’m a dick.

21st September 2016

It’s been six years since I was last here, flipping blimey, really? it was an equinox then too, but spring not Autumn as it is now, well actually the equinox is tomorrow, in the afternoon some time, that would kind of ruin your chances of a good sun rise I’d have thought. My day of is the 21st though so that’s why i’m a day early, I’m not happy about it though, I try to get out on these days above all others, it just has to be done, almost as if the fate of the world rested in my being at some stones for the sunrise. I’ve lied to work in the middle of Christmas working, I’ve gone out a couple of days after having complicated surgery, I’ve gone to the lake district, forgotten my daughter and gone back and then on to the Peak district, it’s important to me, saving the world, and everyone else, probably.

With Arbor low being so close to me I was well in time for the sunrise, but unfortunately the sky didn’t look like it wanted to cooperate, it was a fairly grey day, I sighed inwardly, then realised I was alone and sighed out loud. But then a miracle happened over to the east there was a small thin sliver of actual sky, close to the horizon, could I dare to hope that the sun would pass up through this tiniest of gaps. I unpacked my sitting mat and sat upon it, they’re very handy things, sitting mats, if you find one on a mountain top I strongly recommend you pick it up and nick it, then I waited for the great luminary to make an entrance, however brief it may be, if at all.

Whilst I waited from my vantage point on the west bank I could see that were it to rise where I predicted it would be just to the left of the big barrow in the henge, right where a gap in the henge is, was the gap made by the building of the barrow, or is it especially for folk like me to spy on the secret paths of the sun. I also wondered where the ancient people would have stood and watched what ever was going on here on days like these, were they outside the henge? upon the henge? in the ditch? in the circle? did they even stand at all, it might have been a dancing kind of experience, I don’t do dancing, not sober anyway, so I continue to sit, and wait.
Until the waiting was over, the sun was coming, and I could see it through my crack in the cloud, I don’t think I’ve ever said that before, but there it was, a golden sliver of beautiful light, I photographed it, but my skills are seriously lacking in low light, but you give it a go don’t you? without resourcing to multiple cameras and much trickery, or perhaps not.
It only took five minutes and its completely passed through my crack, I saw it all, just not all at the same time, then it was gone, swallowed by the grey.

World saving duties over I set about the stones, inspecting each one individually, on one of the stones on the west side I think I spotted a couple of very worthy cup marks, I’m not sure I’ve seen them before, nor heard of them, so It’s always worth the time to inspect each stone singly.
Most of these stones could be re-erected, much to the benefit of the site, Burl called Arbor low “the Stonehenge of the north”, but that doesn’t seem to bring the crowds, imagine if the stones were a standing. Some couldn’t be stood back up though as they’ve shattered into up to a half a dozen pieces, but it’s OK to have a few lying down, isn’t it.

From the henge bank Gib hill is looming large at the back of the next field, I always go over before I head off to pastures new, not sure why, I don’t think it matters. The information board tells me that Gib hill is two cairns, a long one with a round one on top, I don’t think I knew that before either. Another cairn can be seen from here, across the big road the A515, Lean low it’s called, i’m off there now. Tatty bye.

It’s been a decade since my first and only time here, and only the fact that the Swaynes howe chambers on Rossilli down were lost in drizzle and low cloud brings me back now. But that’s not to say that the place isn’t worthy of a second visit, it very much is, just that I was on the Gower trying to get to places I’d neglected on my other trip here.
So with a spare half hour the road sign of Park Le Breos couldn’t be ignored.
It was a beautiful day yesterday but today it just rained all the time, which is weird because that was the weather I got ten years ago too, some things never change. The chambered cairn hasn’t changed either, it’s still crumpled at one corner, still full of water and still it’s all to myself. I wondered whether my waiting daughter would mind if I went off looking for the cave, I decided she would mind so I made do with a short walk round it in the woods, peeking through the trees making my own silly Silbury game, coooeee.

The day had started off grey and full of drizzle, the drive down here had been one of concerned skyward glances, but there was no need, this isn’t the north where it’s purportedly “grim”, this is the south, the deep south, almost as far south as you can go without going to England, and you don’t want that.
The sun had shone all day long, which had gone a long way to salve my failed attempt at Paviland cave, but it had done nothing to boost my spirits after the abominable hedges of Samson’s Jack, I decided that sunset at a burial chamber was what the day needed to finish it off.
Maen Ceti won out over the Swaynes Howe chambers, it’s much less of a walk and with a teenager in tow who’s moods swing further apart than heaven and hell, it was an easy decision, there’s always tomorrow, after a zoo and the cave part two maybe.
I parked in the moonscape car park south of the big stone, some people were in front of us so we gave them a few minutes head start before starting our preamble across the moor, as per the new stone visiting rule book.
Standing beside the Maen Ceti is a belittling experience, it’s like, really big, big enough to be mentioned in the same breath as Silbury and Stonehenge, but it was once bigger, in many pictures you can see the two large pieces that came off one side, when they broke off the whole rock lost its equilibrium and shifted slightly on it’s orthostats. The orthostats number is nine and they section off the under side of the stone into two chambers, which is now partly exposed due to the broken capstone. Causes of the broken stone range from ice acting in a crack, lightning and struck by a saint with a sword, or all three.
Standing on top you can see the Great cairn.
The underside of the Arthur’s stone usually has a puddle underneath it, it’s usual enough for some to have called it a spring, doubtful as its all dry right now, so I squat like a frog and waddle round under it reveling in it’s dryness.
The site was just as I remembered it, no smaller no bigger, it’s the right colour and the right distance from the road, but what I couldn’t appreciate from my other time here was the view to the sea west and north, it was all hidden by a thin mist, but its lovely and clear right now, which is nice, I wonder if it’ll last til tomorrow.

Everyone who’s been here and left notes have mentioned that it’s not entirely visible, but why didn’t it piss them off, there’s not even a hint of annoyance with the farmers of localness.
I parked as humbly as possible by the farm/footpath entrance, left daughter in the car and walked away. Ive seen the photos from the wrong side of the hedge, Ive also seen Bladups pictures from the right side of the hedge on the Portal. I was adamant that I too would be on the right side of the hedge so I tried to go left of the fence, only to pass a burly farm hand who obligingly put me on the right path, what a bastard.
Anyway there’ll be another place to get over i’m sure, you cant keep a good man down, or on the wrong side of the fence. Two fields later and i’m stood next to the stone, and totally non plussed as to why a footpath would run right past a big famous standing stone and then have no provision for viewing the stone. It made me dead angry.
I walked past the stone north-ish towards the house to see if I could get into the next field, no go that way, the only way to get on the other side is back at the beginning. But even if you could get the west side of the hedge you’d be so far away from the stone that another hedge would be in the way. Looking at thesweetcheats pictures the hedge was considerably lower then, I might have been more able to get across, by standing on the gate and jumping for it, but not now with the high summer growth. The farmers have done this to us on purpose i’m positive, all it would take is a bit of shearing and a couple of planks to get over the double fence filled with an intense hedge. It’s what I would do. But who am I? no one, that’s who.

After seeing this place on TV a few years ago I checked to see if anyone had been there from on this website, they hadn’t, there was only Kammers implement pictures, so I thought Id quite like to be the first to post some on site pictures. Gladmans first visit failed to get there, and I was just about to start seriously thinking about getting to this hard to get to cave when thesweetcheat got there first. Winning the cave race. Blown it, taking to long to get somewhere other than North Wales, then Gladman won his round two, but only just and then Carl went and said his piece. So, far from being the first to get somewhere awesome to share with folk, which I like, i’m fourth, it’ll do.
2nd September.
I thought I’d be a clever boy and check out the tide timetable, low tide 3pm, cool.
As I’ve said elsewhere I’ve managed to pry my daughter loose from her bedroom and WiFi, she followed me now along the footpath, it was luckily quite warm and sunny, which is not how the day started. After crossing five fields we get to the coastal path, I note above and to the right of us is a cliff top promontory fort, ignored, we carry on following the wall down towards the sea, footing gets more uncertain under scree and wet grass, especially for those among us that think going to the corner shop is a noteworthy expedition.
I can hear the sea now and tensions are rising, but something is wrong with the sea, besides being cold and wet, it’s not out. I tell Phil to sit here in the sun and wait for me while I go down to the shore and see what I can see. The rocks going down to the sea are a major hazard, sharp, hard and twisted full of holes, if you slip and crack your head here you may never get back up again. The sea has definitely cut me off from the prize, I get as close to a photo of it as possible, admit defeat for now, collect my progeny and whisk her away up to the second prize fort.
Later that day I ask at the campsite for tide times tomorrow, the young fellow me lad, gave me the time of 2pm. I now rewrite tomorrows plans around being back on that beach for 2pm.
3rd September.
In the morning we went to a very wet little zoo near Tenby, not only was Jason Bourne and Scarlett Johansson not there, but the animals seemed to have gone on holiday too.
We raced back to Gower, at 2.10pm I was on my way back across the five fields, sans daughter, it was raining and shes already walked ten times further than her monthly allowance. On my own I was much quicker, I had my fingers crossed for most of the walk. Back on the beach I can see sand, you need to see sand, no sand = no cave.
I daintily and carefully slip and slide down onto the beach, I cant mention “the beach” without thinking about war films.
Sand underfoot I turn to the sea and give it the V’s with both hands, you wont see that on Saving private Brian, whilst hoping in turn that it wont jinx me into staying too long and having to embarrassingly wade back.
Onward and upwards, another short scramble up improbable rocks and i’m standing on the threshold of the most famous cave in Britain. I enter the cave shaking after all the climbing, sweating profusely, it’s warm out but raining and i’m all proofed up. It’s impossible to photograph the cave in this condition so I sit and have a smoke for five minutes. In the back of my mind is the retreating tide, it’s been coming in all the time I’ve been here so I must be vigilant. At the forefront of my mind is the incredible span of time since the interment to now, all the changes to the landscape and to the mind of man, it’s just staggering.
I don’t even think about climbing up to the smaller cave/chimney, its wet and slippery and my big walking boots aren’t made for rock climbing, and i’m on my own with no cell reception.
One odd thing, at the entrance to the cave is a quartz seam running down one wall across the floor and up the other side. I wondered how long people had a special attachment to quartz, what if it goes back this far in time, what if they chose this cave because of it, did it keep away bad spirits, did it ensure the dead a safe passage to where ever, did it purify those entering the cave , who knows, anyway, I thought it odd.
But it’s time to go, probably, I stand once more on the beach, turning to the sea I appreciate and acknowledge a worthy opponent, by sticking out my tongue and blowing hard, with that I humbly accept fourth place and quit the beach.