I’ve never been here before, I’ve only been to the Gower peninsula for a couple of hours stone spotting and that was ten years ago, the return was long overdue. So we are here for one more camp of the summer, with my 17 yr old daughter, who is far more comfortable at home with wi-fi than tramping round endless fields with her graying father. Nevertheless I have pried her out of the house which is nearly as good as seeing stones itself.
I parked in the only carpark on the main road through Penmaen, passed through the gate, walked down a concreted path, through another gate, ignore first right turn, that will take you to the beach. Then when the concrete runs out look for a very ruined chapel on the left with a right hand turn opposite it. Go down right hand turn and the burial chamber is twenty yards hence.
Quite easy to find if you ignore the first right turn.
This site has been in my sights for ten years, and it’s good to finally scratch that itch, but I didn’t feel much for the site, no magical vibes, no deep insights, just another minor league ruined burial chamber, unless they clear the sand and brush to reveal more I can think of no reason ever to come back. Sorry, but my mind is on some other site, not the camp site were off to next to pitch our tent, but a rather special little place close to the sea, very close indeed.
postman
Corrimony.
What a great sounding name, I get a bit Corrimony myself sometimes, it’s just the worst TV show ever, excepting E stenders of course.
It’s been so long since my first time here that it was in my pre-digital days, well over ten years then, time to get reacquainted. After so many delights in the Outer Hebrides I was unwilling to let go of the week and go home. So before the long trip home I decided to start the trip by going in the opposite direction by fifty miles, you get to drive along the world famous Loch Ness where you always have the chance of bumping into a giant dimension hopping slug. Also you can laugh and point at the money throwing tourists at Urquhart castle, anyone worth his or her salt knows you sneak in after it’s shut.
It was a sunny mid morning on Saturday in July, there was lots of people in Drumnadrochit, but happily there was no one at the Clava cairn, when we got there.
I grabbed the camera, the lad and the dogs, in that order and strolled over like there was no worries in the world. Until another car pulled up, instead of sitting in their car for a bit or going elsewhere they just got out and followed us to the cairn. Bloody cheek. We had the stones to ourselves for less than two minutes.
If it was me, I would have given them the stones for ten minutes before making my presence felt, did they? no! they just wandered about willy nilly bombing all my photos. People come up to the highlands because it’s pretty, little realising that there’s actually bugger all to do really, so they just bum around looking briefly, glancing really, at every and all historic, or naturally pretty place. Surely after twenty years of stone watching I should be able to cope with it (pun intended), but no, I rail against any and all ignorant behavior. I was well disappointed, such a brilliant site in wondrous surroundings, then to cap it all several other younger people turned up in a trendy hatchback, they hadn’t a clue about stoning etiquette either, we quit the site and left in a huff.
I’m not suggesting we all form an orderly queue, or that people who don’t really care about the ancient past, shouldn’t come, just that if the Postman is there, sod off , buy some postcards, misaddress them to someone who doesn’t care where you are and don’t come back.
Too much? but by gum I was narked.
Well, this is a thoroughly argumentative place isn’t it.
Follow the road to Bernera, easy enough, when you get to the bridge you should be able to see the stones above and left, park in the ample car park and go up, dead easy.
What isn’t dead easy is understanding what on earth is going on.
The big stone you come to first has been set back up in a fairly inappropriate way, the packing stones are free of the ground , cemented together and stained a weird kind of red. But it is the best looking of the three big stones, shiny, swirling, quartzy and pretty. The other two stones aren’t quite as pretty but no less impressive in size.
I first walk all around them looking from here and there, near and far, the one conclusion I come up with was I wish I had more time with clearer skies. This is a strange place.
It isn’t a stone circle, or even a semi circle.
The other half of the circle cant have fallen into the sea as the outcrop on the other side of the fence is worn smooth over many more thousands of years than the stones have stood here. It can’t have gone down there. I think it’s three standing stones, which seem to be looking over the edge, to what was ever down there, perhaps a whirlpool, perhaps an ancient bridge, now underwater, perhaps there was nothing of note down there at all and the stones are astronomical in nature, they do describe a crescent, moonish by shape.
Who knows, no one it seems.
And dont get me started with the birthing chair, imagine your a woman and it’s time to bring new and precious life into the world, would you sit on a rock above a cliff, outdoors. I know I wouldnt want that, it’s just as likely to be a shitting chair, Lewisian gneiss is well known for curing constipation, or perhaps the king of lewis had his scat collcted as it erupted and then sold across the north of Britain as souvinirs.
But what a fantastic place. No where would a time machine come in more handy.
It’s half eleven in the morning and we’ve got about four hours before we must catch another ferry, so there’s time for a couple of essential sites I never got round to on my first time on this island.
First is this one Ceann Hulavig, Moth didn’t think of a more pronounceable name, which is good because I could be at the Lavi right now.
Eric and the dogs stayed in the car and I went up the misty sodden hill on my own, which was nice. On the way up, looking behind me to the south east I can see the hill on which there is a cairn and the map optimistically announces the presence of another stone circle, but I’ve done my homework a bit and know it’s not worth blowing off Bernera bridge and a last fondle of Callanish for. I carry on up the hill into another world.
As I approach the stones of lavi the mist obligingly disperses, which was a bit weird, I had thought to be alone with only the stones for company but as the air cleared of moisture I could see where the other main stone collections are, and my place in the world became a touch clearer.
Only five stones remain of a probable thirteen, each stone about eight to nine feet tall, much like Gary by the water to the north north west, there is also the very scant remains of a little cairn within the circle, very much like Gary by the water. What a strange place this part of Lewis is.
Eleven years ago I adopted the Moth speak for these two stone circles, Gary, down by the water, and here Philippa, on the hill. It is very pleasing to not have to bother with how it’s all pronounced, i’m sure they do it to us on purpose anyway. Say hello Philippa.
After the short walk up from Gary by the water the stones came out boldly from the light veil of mist, kind of ethereal like, I love it when that happens, you don’t always need blue skies to appreciate Scotland.
Two stone circles there are, an ellipse within an ellipse, some stones are missing, so from a distance it looks like a mad jumble of tall stones, only getting up among them can you tell whats going on.
People make a lot of business out of the sleeping beauty, made out of the hills to the south, I cant see her, and wonder whether others really do, there are lots of hills, I could probably make half a dozen ladies lying down. So I ignore her until someone can point her out to me.
Harder to ignore is that stone, and I’m not joking when I say harder. It is a giants schlong cut off and stuck in the ground, they must have gone to some length to find and accentuate this stone, when you look at it, there is no stone just a massive erection. Why would they do that if there was no sleeping beauty, I really must look harder at that horizon.
I have been going with the Moth nomenclature for years for these two stone circles, this one, the more incomplete of the two is called Gary. Say hello Gary.
Parking as Carl says is ample, by the most haunted house this side of Garynahine, as we approached the circle a walker packed up his things and walked away in the direction of the stones, and we had the place to ourselves.
Two stones are down and ripe for re-standing, five tall stones stand taller than me, each with it’s own unique exaggerated shape, they are Lewisian Gneiss, up to 3 billion years old, and the most beautiful rock in Britain.
There is indeed a cairn in the middle, well actually it’s off center, Burl says, 28ft across, it’s stones contained a cavity 6ft wide ‘shaped like a large round bodied bottle with a short neck’, near the cairn lay a stone 7 ft long with probably natural incisions upon it, but the stone has gone now, reputedly to Lews castle in Stornoway.
Looking across to Callanish from here the stones look like they are on top of a Grand Carnac tumulus, imagine Tumulus de St Michel with a shed load of stones on it, well it looks a bit like that. About Callanish, Burl again.... It is noteworthy that there is hardly any native architecture in either the circle or the tomb. Outside influences are probable, makes you think.
A couple hundred yards and very visible on it’s higher than here ridge is another stone circle, a circle named Philippa, which i’m fine with as thats my daughters name.
Driving south from Dun Carloway en route back to the stones one has to drive past this wonderful absurdity, and a standing stone but I missed that one as I was power sliding round the bend, no of course not, still missed it though.
I didn’t miss Olcote cairn as I’ve been here before, there’s still half of it missing, I’ve looked on the other side of the road but there’s nothing there, I’ll give it one more try next time but i’m close to believing it’s gone for good.
The cist is still nice though, if you stand on the road and crane your neck through the wire fence you can get within a few inches of it. The half that hasn’t gone to live on a farm in the countryside is nice in a restored kind of way, most if not all the stone used is that Lewisian gneiss, which is the best looking stone in Britain.
But still,
What the hell? where is the other half? couldn’t you have gone round it? what do you mean you didn’t know it was there?
Strewth!
Probably the tallest standing stone in Scotland.
It’s been eleven years since my last dalliance with the Trushal stone, too long, and since then they’ve decided there was once a stone circle here, maybe two, or even a stone row, sounds familiar doesn’t it?
We got here about dusk, in late July that’s about 10pm, due to an incurable tent malfunction, were staying in the big metal tent tonight, it’s got an inbuilt radio at least, and you don’t have to pack it up in the morning, so we parked in the small layby next to the apparently empty house that is right next to the stone.
We had a good look round the stone just as the post sunset golden glow faded away. In the morning it was quite surreal to look out the back window and see a megalithic wonder right there. The stone is tremendous, I’ll be back for sure.
How good can a stone circle be?
The stones should be much taller than me, they should be made of the most beautiful stone in the Isles, and they should be far away from centres of modern occupation, to keep Joe Public at bay and to increase the feeling of pilgrimage. I don’t suppose it would hurt to put an even bigger stone in the middle of the circle, and whilst we’re at it a pretty good chambered cairn could fit in there too, and why not have some stone rows leading away from it, five maybe. Throw in some alignments to moon sun and stars, is that too much?
The stones should be on a hill, not a big one, just high enough to be able to see the stones from far away, perhaps from some angles the hill could look like a Grand Carnac tumulus, but all this is pushing it a bit isn’t it, this all but seems impossible. But lets push the boundaries of incredulousness even further, From the circle I want views of distant mountains, lochs and just to take it to the Nth degree other stone circles. I wouldn’t like a cafe or a gift shop, but I could put up with them if entry to this wonder of wonders was free.
Bless my soul it is real, and I’ve been here twice now.
We got off the ferry at Leverburgh and drove briskly for Stornoway, hoping to find some normal food and to correct a tent malfunction, one out of two aint bad. Cor blimey Harris is a pretty place especially the north east quarter, it must have been heavily landscaped by the giants of old. And the mountain drive through the south of Lewis is exceptionally inspiring.
Stornoway wasn’t like what I was expecting, it was quite a nice place. From there we headed straight for the stones of Callanish, it was about 9pm when we got there, there was one other car in the carpark.
Visiting a stone circle is a lot like a first date with a hot girl you’ve fancied for ages. Trust me, it is.
As we rounded the big rock Cnoc An Tursa the tops of the stones come into view over a low wall, the heart skips a beat and the hairs on the back of your neck stand to the accompaniment of goosebumps on the arms, sound familiar? Then through the gate and ignore the information boards,
fumble around for the camera and hands almost shaking take that first tentative photo, oh my god you’re so beautiful, that gorgeous girl you’ve fancied for ages is standing before you bathed in evening sunlight and wearing nothing but a mischievous smile.
There may have been other people there, I know for sure that my son and dogs are here somewhere, but he can see I’m in love and he leaves me alone with the stones, I only have eyes for the stones, I can only think about the stones, there is nothing in the world but me and the stones of Callanish, only here do I fit the naked stone hugging hippy type that my mates at work laugh about.
After a while, who knows how long it was (30 minutes) Eric ridiculously suggests that we leave, I look at him like he’s the maddest madman I’ve ever seen, I’m staying here forever, send for your sister. Instead I tell him, in a bit, I have to stare intently at these stones for about a million years.
All too soon a million years go by and it’s getting dark, I cant abide the idea that I may never have this feeling again so I strike a deal, after we’ve been to all the places that I want to see tomorrow any spare time at the end will be spent here, he rarely sees me this passionate about anything so knows to give me what I want.
As you cross the causeway over to Berneray there is a hill right in front of you, a small modern cairn crowns its summit. Park, jump fence, go up, pass little cairn and the standing stone is quite visible, at 8ft6 you wont miss it.
A mucho complicato place this(that’s Italian, don’t ask me why), the stone is tall and fine and by shape almost stolen from Stenness, hoary moss and yellow lichen occupy the upper half of it, fantastic views of distant hills and white sandy beaches.
Now the complicato, right next to the menhir is a rectangular structure, canmore says it’s a very old chapel, they also have an aerial picture showing the stone and chapel sitting in a large oval/squarish enclosure, apparently an old burial ground, they then go on to call the whole structure a Cashel, like what they have in Ireland.
Then they say that part of the enclosure wall could once have been a cairn.
So there was much going on here over a long period of time, which is nice.
Just over the hill is a possible chambered cairn, it’s not on my map but i’m still kicking myself for not having the time or the wits to find it.
This is very a nice place, we lay down among the wild flowers and watched birds and flying insects whooshing about, rested our heads on the chapel wall, of course we didnt know it at the time.
Something interesting , no funny, is at the bottom of the hill, The Ardmaree stores forecasting stone, a rock on a string.
canmore.org.uk/site/300960/berneray-ardmaree-stores-forecasting-stone
The two big stones that one immediately sees are not the standing stones your looking for, they are there only to confuse us, and they do a good job of it. The two standing stones are the ones on the mounds, conjoined mounds no less, from the road the stone on the right is still up and the one on the left is having a lie down.
So I think Carl did find and see the stones, he just didn’t believe in himself.
Not much else you can say about them, they’re small, probably best to go across to Berneray and have a look at Cladh Maolrithe standing stone, it’s a good one.
About a mile and a bit north east from the souterrain Cnoc A’ Chaisteal, is a big stone, a large Clach, and seeing as it’s on route to the ferry, I have to stop and look.
The stone is massive, it’s not set into the ground but rests somewhat precariously on top of it, surely it didn’t come to rest in that position, it just has to have been stood up.
Canmore says this...
Clach an t-Sagairt is a large stone block set on edge, facing SE, and measuring 8ft long(I think they mean tall), 11ft broad, and 4 1/2ft thick, with a Latin cross incised on it towards the sinister top corner of its face.
This cross is also known as Clach na h’Ulaidh and Crois Aona’ain.
It may have marked a sanctuary limit of St Columba’s Chapel......
None of that negates the idea that it was up and had meaning to ancient man, so I’ve added it as a natural feature, like a mountain, cave, tree or mole hill.
There is only a couple of hours til the ferry takes us away from this hard yet idyllic island so a few sites closer to the ferry terminal are what were up to now, a souterrain to start off with.
Heading north on the B893 take second left, then at the T junction turn left and go to the end and look left. You’ll see a couple of long mounds, the one on the right has some stones on it, so I headed across the field towards that, Eric reckoned it was the other mound, and so it turned out to be, we’ll get him stone hunting on his own one day.
I didn’t know where the actual entrance to the souterrain was, there’s a fence with the beach right below it, from field to sea is maybe ten yards, it wont be down there I confidently assert. But where is it, I look all over the edge of two fields and its not there, there are some half buried stones, and I was beginning to convince myself it was a buried none get-into-able site. But just for the sake of completion I hopped over the fence down to the beach and found it almost straight away.
The entrance was covered by stones, so I peeled them away and revealed a strange little thing. A square stone lined hole no more than 18 inches tall, I stuck my head in and could see that after a yard or two it turns left. Should I crawl in? I decided not to, it’s very cramped, I took too long to find it and flies are beginning to swarm on me, they’re not midges, unless someone has been doing gamma ray experiments on them, big stupid flies that you can catch in your fingers.
I’ve never seen a souterrain on a beach before, and I never would have if I’d stayed at home, god save the outdoors.
From the western-most lower cairn up the hill I could see what looked like a white stone, it seemed to be in the right place and I had nothing else to go on so I went on over. Dodging as I went the large steps left in the ground where peat cutting has been done, I’ve got to say a little something about these, I’m not into it at all, they are everywhere, but everywhere, at first we thought the large bags of peat might be dumped rubbish but it didn’t take long to realise that these people are stripping the landscape and selling it, it’s their ground who am I say what they should do with it, but I don’t like it. Done.
The big white thing did indeed turn out to be a stone, I could see the stone delving deep through the clear clean looking water at it’s base, it was a deep moat, Mia the Jaques Rousel had a drink. The big stone was covered in long straggly lichen, or moss, either way it was doing well. From this stone I can see the rest of the circle, an arc of maybe ten or so stones, low, no higher than a foot and a half. Burl says they dug into the hill side and leveled the site before erecting this embanked stone circle, but it really doesn’t look like it, the large lichen covered stone is maybe six feet higher than it’s neighbours. The ten or so stones are on the western side, Burl says the eastern side is denuded, that’s the word he uses, it means stripped something of something, pretty vague, even more so as Greywether says the other side is maybe under the peat, that’s not the same as denuded, who to believe?
But then Burl goes on about playing card slabs on edge at the ENE and SE, didn’t see them, so I’m going with Greywether, for under the peat, in which case, come on you locals get that peat stripped and shipped we’ve a stone circle to find.
Sometimes I hate myself.
I think I parked where Greywether suggested, then took one of the dogs and walked up hill up the footpath, it’s not a footpath those are seemingly rarer than stone circles on this island, but just go up hill. I was actually willfully ignoring these chambered cairns intending to only visit the very nearby stone circle, but I apparently went too far up the path because before I knew it a large grassy mound stood before me, I couldn’t ignore it any more.
But time is still just as against me as it was yesterday, there is another ferry with my name on it for this afternoon, so I was quick.
The higher (altitude wise) of the two cairns is a large grassy mound with some large blocks of stone on the top, next to it is a few stones set kind off circularly, could be a hut circle, or another cairn inserted into the side of the big cairn.
Down hill, slightly, is another cairn, presumably of the chambered variety, but on the ground it’s another grassy mound with a heavier sprinkling of masonry on top than it’s nearest neighbor.
There are other chambered cairns and more stuff besides over the hill but i’m looking in the opposite direction, for a stone circle, there are more than a few stone circles on North Uist but Burl in his bible only mentions two, and one of them is before me, I can see a white stone from on top of the lower (altitude wise)cairn I’ll head for that.
This big long cairn is really a Hebridean passage grave in disguise, apparently, I’m not altogether what this means precisely. Perhaps it just means it can be seen from the road, No? Is it because it’s in the Hebrides? maybe, or is it the horned forecourt, possibly.
None of the passage can be seen and though I read that some of the chamber can still be pointed out I never saw it. But the standing stones at the end of the cairn Iv’e seen before at places like Skelpick, does that mean it’s a horned forecourt? I dunno, probably maybe, all I know is it’s good, far better than sitting watching TV, anyway.
Don’t come here the way I did, ie: climbing over the fence at Carinish stone circle , drive further down the road to the better car park and footpath toward the cairn.
Avebury, Long Meg and her daughters, the Leys of Marlee, all have something in common with this on the far edge of no where mostly ruined stone circle, no? well it’s a stone circle you can drive through, and for that reason alone makes this for me at least, a must see site, and as a further incentive there’s a very decent Hebridean passage grave just five to ten minute walk away.
There’s a little layby with room for one right next to the circle or a larger one a bit further down the road, which is where you’d park for the long cairn, if you knew it was there first.
There are at least seven circle stones still to be seen, in 1928 there was sixteen , so it has suffered somewhat, which made me want to come here even more, feeling sorry for it and cheering on the underdog and all that.
One stone at least survives on the south side of the road, and another six are on the north side, all the stones are very white.
A telegraph pole is too close to the stones but it at least is something to watch for on this sometimes featureless island road.
Eaval is the highest point on Benbecula, and North Uist too for that point, it is close and dominates the horizon east from here.
A high fence cuts off the circle from the long cairn but that was the route I took, me the lad and two dogs, what a dummy, theres a stile and a path up the road. Oh well I’ll know for next time, he looks wistfully to nowhere.
No lounging around in beer gardens for us, it is a little after 8am so that would be a bit strange, I didn’t have the heart to drag Eric over the hill to it, so we let the dogs drag us the short walk from the hotel through the heather and bracken.
After enjoying a people free Barpa Langass last night I thought it not quite odd but at least fortuitous to have the stones to ourselves, these are famous places right?
I think I worked it out, North Uist is as much water as it is land, there is no Stornoway here, no town as such at all, and there is no Callanish, the place will always live on in my memory as being mostly people free.
I can see stones, we have arrived, the bracken and heather is doing very well on this south facing hillside, too well, the ground is quite boggy. What a place, a few miles south east-ish there is a small mountain which I think is called Eaval, and more on the horizon. The north view is short, it is uphill, that’s where I go next to see it from above, ah, ever had an itch you couldn’t scratch, I have a few, this ones called Pobuill Fhinn, but now I can scratch away, it’s quite a relief to finally get here. No analogies can do this feeling justice, it’s just very good to be here.
The portalled entrances are quite obvious, but why two? Swinside and the Druids circle have just one, so why two here, a small voice inside me says it’s because it’s twice as good, more is always better than less.
It’s an embanked stone circle, nay oval, but oddly the northern circle stones are inside the bank and the southern stones are outside it, explain that one if you can.
Man what a beautiful place, I adore the Outer Hebrides, but it’s time to leave this idyllic place, hunt down some breakfast and then drive through a stone circle, one of only four places that I know of where you can do that.
From the Lochmaddy ferry terminal we headed straight here, just follow the road as it bends left, past some antenna type whatsit, round Beinn Langais, that’s the hill on who’s side the burial chamber is perched upon.
If memory serves the cairn cant be seen from the east, so the first sign that you’ve arrived is a sign pointing to the car park.
Car duly parked, the last few yards up hill to the chambered cairn are delirious ones, I was as giddy as a lone child at Christmas, I’ve been looking forward to this one for quite some time.
From the beginning really, I am slowly working my way through the big orange book, apart from a few stragglers here and there I’ve only got these far flung places still to get to, this is a big one.
It really is a big one too, I wasn’t expecting it to be so big, or is it the wide open spaces that make it look big, or is it just me.
Then I saw the sign, read the sign, and swore at the sign, shit, what? closed? say it isn’t so, I make my way to the entrance, eye up the wooden frame covering the entrance, pick it up in one hand and put it to one side, that’s not closed, Hetty Peglar’s tump, that was closed, this isn’t closed.
Peering into the gloom inside, I decide that I’ve waited too long and come too far to be a prude, in all I might have given it a seconds thought, nah, who am I kidding I just went straight in with out a thought of what if it collapses on me, I haven’t won the lottery nor been hit by a meteorite, I pass through the universe largely unnoticed, nothing interesting ever happens to me, it’ll be fine.
It’s a cramped scurry along the short passage, sidling past the collapse, footing is damn near treacherous, the floor is covered in large chunks of cairn material. This is the most chaotic burial chamber ever, it all looks very precarious, it got even more so as my son entered the tomb, then dad took over, I told him just a quick glimpse ‘cause i’m coming out. So, no sitting and chilling, no pondering the mysteries of life and death, but at least I am here and I’ve seen whats inside and sat next to it.
When we’d got out Eric noticed the dogs had turned on the hazard lights in my car so he went down to correct things, while I had a final ten minutes up here. Walking round the Barp I reckon I saw a few large kerb stones on the maybe northern side, but they were more like circle stones than kerb stones.
I didn’t climb up onto it, that would be maybe too much, the universe might see me.
It’s now almost ten o’clock at night and we’ve yet to find a campsite, so that’s where were off to next, but, my it’s been a long day.
Sometimes going the wrong way can be a good thing, call it a fortuitous accident or a happy blunder, but I found this site by a total fluke.
Does historic Scotland presume souterrains are more interesting than say a stone circle, because this is a big car park for somewhere I’ve never heard of, and road signs too, you don’t see many of those out in the, well I was going to say middle of no where, but this is the northern tip of the Isle of Skye so if anything it’s at the far edge of no where.
Not long before the ferry now, and i’m getting very excited, but I must try and be in the here and now because I like souterrains, not as much as a broch mind you but I do like them, imagine if brochs always came with a souterrain, how cool would that be?
Anyhoo, Eric, my tiny hell hounds and me approached the entrance to the northern fogou with a small look of apprehension, on two posts either side of the entrance was a pair of yellow wellies, strange I thought, why would you take off your wellies and leave without them?
Then I had a look inside, and things kind of slipped into place, the whole tunnel was flooded, how deep it was I couldn’t tell through the brown possibly smelly water, I’ve been to Scottish sites before where a torch or hard hat was provided, neither of those were here, but the wellies were.
Just inside the entrance, to the left, is a side passage, a creep I think you call them, the entrance to the creep was partially made up of stones? that looked suspiciously like sand bags, just how deep does the water get. Either way I’m not putting on a strange pair of wellies, i’m not an animal you know, a few pictures later and were peering over the old low wall at the site of a round house, presumably also iron age, it’s good to know that like fogous, souterrains are part of a small settlement.
Directions from Glen Elg....straight on, left, left again over the Skye bridge, right at the roundabout, and then left at Sligachan, it’s about eighty miles, it seems natural to come here to Dun Beag from the brochs there, from broch to broch, were broching this afternoon. Broching is good.
A trio of motor homes were hogging most of the car park at Dun Beag, but it was a big enough place to squeeze in between the ordinary vehicles, within minutes Eric our two dogs and me were on our way up the hill to the big circle wall. Passing on our way what was either a cairn or some old dwelling, there are definitely some old dwellings the other side of the broch, Canmore just calls it a township, I saw one of those on Star Trek once.
The views are, like most of western Scotland, dreamy to say the least, and a paradise at most, for me it’s the best part of Britain.
If I was alone I might have gone over to Dun Mor, but I was very not alone, as well as my own entourage there were people scurrying about all over the place.
Not as complete as some other Brochs but there is still much to see and do, the inner and outer wall is still walk through-able in places, and the guard cells if thats what they are can be got into.
Brochs may be the most interactive kind of site on the TMA’s list of site types, single standing stones and small cairns being the least interactive, alls you can do there is touch and look, but at a broch you can crawl into small spaces, climb on walls, walk through the door and see into the lives of people gone by. Probably.
Having made very good time driving through the night we still have time to see other places before our ferry gets in, but with no OS map I’m a bit stumped so I’m off to Kilt rock waterfall, I feel sure there will be no tourists there.
Only half a kilometer separates this broch from its nearest neighbor Dun Telve to its west, but unlike it’s slightly more complete brother it is higher up the northern hillside of the valley, affording it better views up and down the glen and of the mountains, and for that reason I’m out, I mean in, I mean I prefer this one (rolls eyes).
When we first got here there was already two cars so instead of overcrowding the place we went up the road to the burial chamber, which was nice, upon our return we found no cars, and had the place to ourselves, take note incidental tourists that have to read the information board.
For a good ten minutes we poked our noses into every nook and cranny the broch had to offer, we walked round it several times, nearer and farer, yep I like this one best. Fabulous views of the glen, all these trees with afternoon mists wandering round at will, then the other people came, we were nearly done anyway, a couple of minutes more wouldn’t have hurt though. Bloody tourists.
An absolutely exquisitely gorgeous part of the country, even in low cloud and occasional drizzle, or maybe because of low cloud and occasional drizzle, I cant tell which.
Parking for one if your not going to linger long, lingering can be done at the Brochs.
A nice little chamber crowns the large grass covered cairn, a slipped capstone rests on two side slabs, perhaps the third is in the back somewhere, and the fourth maybe to one side partially buried.
Unfortunately for this day a ferry awaits me in the opposite direction and I have not the time to delve further into the bag of tricks that is Glen Elg, another broch and some cupmarked stones await me on my next visit, hopefully it wont be another eleven years.
Cor and Blimey is it really eleven years since I was last here, I think it is, even in the drizzle this is still a beautiful place to be. The hanging hill side mists, the lush vegetation covering everything, the little road that crosses mountains and passes beaches, it’s a very nice place.
The broch is just how I remember it, half gone but still very tall in it’s surviving side. Only one broch still stands in it’s entirety and that’s far away in the Shetlands, I hope to see it one day. For now these pair of Brochs, Telve and Troddan, for there is another, just up the road, will do just fine.
It only took eight and a half hours to get here as well, not bad going.
Someone else is here now, you don’t get places like this to yourself for long in the summer holidays, time to go a bit further up the road.
A couple of miles south of Aberglaslyn on the A498 there is a house set back from the road, it has a nice garden, just past it is the parking place, a little layby with room for three or four cars. We the occupants of third car exited said vehicle and walked back up the road following the now wide and slow moving river Glaslyn, but only for a hundred yards then we turn left and up hill on a farm track passing a rusty shack on the corner(you can see it on streetview).
This is the very much up hill section of the walk, it’s steep and slippy and because of the thick wooded slopes there is no view. But on the upside I love walking in the woods of Snowdonia, because of the abundant rainfall these woods are as lush and verdant as the proverbial garden, a river runs along side the path plunging over a hundred falls. Moss covers just about everything, ferns, falls and forts, who could ask for more.
The easy to follow path zigzags it’s way up until it comes out of the woods and onto the open hill side, there would have been good views, particularly of Cnicht east across the valley, but the mist and grey skies that had bothered us this whole summer solstice morning, was still bothering us, all in a days stone hunting these days.
This path runs right next to the fort, so it was with relative ease that we reached this minor league player in the game of stones.
We leave the path and ascend the rock, passing some very unusual looking rocks we enter through what surely must be the original entrance, now walled up. This modern wall encloses the hill top and is built from the old fort wall, in places it has used all the stone from the fort, and in places there is still much stone spread still beneath the wall.
It lightly but persistently rained nearly the whole time we were there, Eric hunkered down whilst I explored and photographed.
Farmer has not only built a new wall out of the fort but there are three annexes inside it too, and lots of ferns, soaking wet ferns.
It came all too soon to be the time to go, so we climbed back over the new wall and exited the fort via the correct exit, just in time to note that the low clouds had moved on somewhat revealing a decent section of the best place in Wales and England, not a green field in sight, and more trees than I thought were in the whole national park. I asked Eric to sit tight whilst I went for a little walk up there and there, points at rocky vantage points, from up there the view was stunning, I could now see Cnicht, across the valley and far above us and a touch round the corner Moel Hebog and it’s cairn cemetery, but not Snowdon, the mists still clung on tightly over there. I’ll have to come back on an even nicer day, there are hut circles and hut circles that might be ring cairns and two kilometers west a stone row, so until then, we’ll continue to avoid dying horribly so we can keep on with a game of stones.
Nine years ago I had trouble finding this site and I couldn’t really work out why, I think I know why now. The 1:50,000 map has the burial chamber as being south east of a footpath, or so I thought, closer inspection has the footpath turning into a Bridle path. I was on the wrong footpath. So here’s the definitive directions.
I will presume you have found the east west minor road that runs from the B5108 to the A5025 south of Benllech, look for an off road called Maes Llydan it should be opposite a Bridle path, park on Maes Llydan and walk off down the Bridle path.
keep an eye out left through the thin line of trees lining the path, when you’ve walked past one field on the left it’s there in the next field right up against the hedge, it is visible and can be spotted by the observant.
It really did take ages to find it, I nearly gave up, but a trio of helpful horses helped me out, they buoyed my spirits and had I known at the time where the chamber was I might have thought they were shepherding me in the right direction, they were.
Trees often help me out too, it sounds incredibly stupid, even to me, but the number of times I’ve been close to quitting only to make for a nearby tree and have the problem immediately resolved, so if trees know lots then horses will no all, logic see.
In the end we more or less stumbled across the site, it’s still free of the close by hedge, but the brambles behind it are quite thick and I had to clear the entrance of the tomb to get a good look inside. One thing I hadn’t noted last time was the sea view, perhaps the hedge was even higher before, it’s always best to have a sea view isn’t it ? unless it costs us a mountain view.
Speaking of which it’s time for a Snowdonian hill fort, I hope the crappy weather behaves.
This great stone is a stone of two names Carreg Lefn, and Maen Pres the smooth or brass stone, this is another instance of the Welsh flexing their humorous muscles again, the stone is not smooth, by a long way, and it really aint made of brass, it just makes me shake my head in wonder the names they’ve given to some sites, or am I missing some now lost snippet of information that makes it all click into place. Parys mountain copper mine is a mile or two away east you need copper to make brass, that’s all I’ve got.
It’s such a good stone this one, tall, gnarly, covered in lichen and moss and standing proud but lonely in the middle of an empty field. I tried to pick out a stone I hadn’t yet been to on Angelsey, but I failed, I’m not sure there are any left that I haven’t had the pleasure of, there must be at least one.
With Carls notes twinned with my own negative views and telling photo I can only suggest there isn’t much need for anyone else to waste there time looking for this barrow, there are many more engaging stoney sites to go to, I only stopped because I was passing by.
I’ve passed this site by almost a dozen times, it’s collapsed and ruined and the current occupiers of this once sacred land demand that we ask to see it.
So I will reiterate the great Stubobs words “Get yourself over the gate”, and like he I went dead early, earlier still. I thought for a minute of knocking on the door the way that postmen do, but reckoned this wasn’t really what they had in mind, I’ve seen too many just got up grumpy faces, just doing my job.
So I parked some way away and walked back up the road and tip toed up the track to the farm buildings. No signs of life (well it is Wales) alerted me to farmers presence so I quietly climbed over the gate, if you go over by the hinges it makes less noise. Then a bee line to the stones, if all bees are a bit drunk. Stubobs analysis of the chamber is spot on, they are indeed a funny old jumble of stones, I think only the capstone is readily identifiable. I cant even tell if all the stones here are from the chamber, one big stone is earthfast outcrop, are they even in the same place, I doubted it.
Closer to the stones than the farm is the terminus of wires and pylons, it is without doubt a monstrosity, I can almost feel the mind control waves bashing around in my head, lucky for me i’m immune, probably the aneurysms.
Five minutes and I’m done, I think I got away with it.
As the great red orb rose above the horizon the heat shimmered across the arid expanse, my calculations were correct, perfectly in line with the large gnarled stones, I made notes in my battered brown notebook.
Meanwhile back in Anglesey thick grey cloud covered the horizon, no sun this morning, great or otherwise, the early morning dew has soaked me from the knees down, voodoo priestess has left the show, it has to be said that it was only slightly better than miserable.
And yet just because the sun don’t do it’s thing it’s never a wasted trip, i’m going to give the fallen cromelch 500 meters north west a crack, it can be mildly problematic but I’m feeling particularly driven today so I’m still hopeful.
The stones field is not unoccupied this morning a flock of sheep are keeping an eye on me, one of their number is black but to his credit it’s not let it become an obstacle.
Even the stones aren’t mine all mine, two delightfully slimey snails are squirming about on top of the bent stone, right at the top they are, i’m quite taken with them, on tip toes I get closer and enter their world watching them closely, before I know it seven hours have passed so I bid them and my stoney friends a fond farewell and swear that I’ll get a sunrise out of them, one day.
The stones mumbled among themselves but I didn’t quite catch it.
What a thoroughly and absolutely beautiful place.
Llandudno is, as you can guess quite a large town mainly because of the tourist trade, but it hasn’t suffered like Rhyl or Blackpool, it’s still a very nice place. But if even if the nicest town in Wales is too much town for you then the Great Ormes head cairn is as far away from the town as possible whilst still being technically in Llandudno. You can walk, drive, tram or fly through the air with the greatest of ease to within about half a mile from this wonderfully situated cairn.
It was so nice that when we were there a couple were doing Tai Chi, or perhaps it was the modern Klingon equivalent either way they looked a bit daft, but not as daft as thirty of them at a retreat on the edge of town.
No? I guess you had to be there.
The cairn can be found at a ninety degree turn of the wall right by the footpath, the mound is twice as large than the spread of stone upon it, I may have spotted the arc of kerb stones, it might not be though. I wondered what the large scoop was next to the cairn, it’s not in the cairn, it’s next to it, material taken for the cairn possibly, if the cairn was supposed to be viewed from across the estuary around Tal y Fan where there were many things going on in the Bronze age, then the little quarry would be hidden behind the cairn. I dunno i’m just ruminating, perhaps its the grave of the guy who had the stone rows built. Who knows.
Back to that amazing view, north is the open sea, left is Puffin Island and Angelsey, the Straits, then a lot of mountains, which then sink into the river Conway where nestles one of the best castles in Britain. It was so nice that one could go for a bit of Mok’bara.
Well this is a mysterious place isn’t it, who gave it the name? did he think he was being funny? who knows? looking at the Welsh language I don’t think they do funny. Which leads me to wonder why it hasn’t got a Welsh name, did an Englishman give it the name?
Why hasn’t the site page got a more exact grid ref SH7684 isn’t as precise as some TMA’ers would appreciate, though all that’s missing is zeroes so perhaps that’s it, SH76008400 is what coflein would perhaps give, but that’s actually the grid reference for a supposed standing stone, which is wrong anyway that stone is several hundred meters away and not visible from the bloomer, sorry free trade loaf.....really?
See, mysterious.
On a more surer ground, the site is a superb location, high and dry with short grass, there are many rocks upon the plateau one of which is Coflein’d to the level of standing stone, and the Irish sea fades off into the distance, it’s very nice in the sun reminding me of Scilly or some such lands endy type place. On top of the Orme it isn’t as pretty as it once was, i’m guessing though cause it’s not changed for about thirty years, apart from the Copper mine that is.
Last time on The stone hunters guide to Wales.....
Snow and ice coupled with miles of difficult walking meant the stone hunters missed the freaky settlement site of Maes y Caerau, and it meant they didn’t have a really good look at the pair of cairns nestling under the rocks of Y Gyrn, so after three years of tripping elsewhere our intrepid explorers are back in the hills above Harlech for a more in depth look around.
21st May 2016.....
From the A496 a mile north of Talsarnau turn east up hill towards the little but lovely Llyn Tecwyn Isaf pass it by and take the next right, we parked just across the river and walked from there. The map is a bit confusing after here, you could try following the footpaths or just strike out on your own heading for the right side of big and obvious rocky Y Gyrn.
The leaves are back on the trees, the streams are all full of dark water, birds are singing and the weather is trying it’s best not to rain on us, as per our request, likable, to say the least.
After much map reading, some serious leg work, spotting the freaky settlement site across a falling stream and a lot of staring at the views we arrive at the two cairns. Map still says there are three cairns, but we can still see only two, the third is either buried or it’s some kind of mistake.
I head straight for the higher of the two, it’s a nice little kerb cairn with an opened cist at it’s centre. One of the two side slabs has fallen inwards obscuring a proper scootch about in there, I cant even tell if the two end slabs are in attendance,
the kerb stones now free of snow stand out much more. Y Gyrn looks like a really good play ground from here, no swings and slides, but rock and boulders, nooks and crannies, distant views and in your face nature.
Over a little stream about a hundred yards is the other cairn, we knew it was a ring cairn but in the snow three years ago that was not very evident but now the ring is naked and brazen and she is showing it all and we can see it all. She is definitely a ring cairn, and one with a view through a gap in the hills to the sea. Why are they always female ?
No prizes.
After butties under a rock shelter with a view of both cairns, and a walk over to Bryn Cader Faner we climb up to the top of Y Gyrn, where a long eye full reveals all three sites, looking down to the ring cairn is as always especially rewarding.
A revisit to these cairns and the freaky settlement site has been high on the list for over three years, now we’ve done it I can cross them off, it’s not a physical list, but excising them from thought should make the whole thing run smoother, just like my lovely car.
We were here a few years ago, but we had to pass it by due to deep snow and the approach of the dark of the night, for those three years it was on my North Walean wish list. On the map, coflein and google earth it looks very good, three stony rings one inside the other, I was very much looking forward to seeing it from above on the rocky prominence named Y Gyrn, and closer up too of course.
We first caught sight of its rubble rings on the way to the Y Gyrn cairns, waterfalls barred the way so we decided to see it on the way back down. So, after many stony treats we found ourselves stood upon the rocky towers of a mini mount, the views, even on this murky kind of day are expansive, many different things can be seen, collectively they are known as North Wales. But closer to and below us is one of the oddest settlements I’ve seen for while, I can make out the three stone banks but its half grassed over and as the ground is falling away from us, and the rings are on the hill, they are kind of pointing away from us, spoiling the birds eye view I had envisaged. The voodoo priestess laughed and gave me a slap across the face, I had to agree, we had uncannily missed any and all rain, staying dry and happy, and not to mention you get what you get, not what you wish for.
Three concentric rings of dry stone walling one and a half to two meters thick, the innermost ring is thought to be a round house. The entrance to the two outer walls is at the south west, in places the walls are still half a dozen courses high. I thought it strange that the Iron age homesteaders hadn’t leveled the ground before building, maybe I’ve seen too many stone circles, either way I quite liked the way the whole place is draped over the contours of the land and apparently early cultivation terraces.
I liked this place, the green valleys, the mountains, the ancient places, but I reckon a bit of de-turfing would really benefit the site, if it is left to itself it will disappear, just like it’s apparent twin 600 yards south west Bryn-Melyn, twin? did I not say.
After dropping the kids off at school and collage I decided that it has been too long since I last went out, it’s payday and there are blue skies and fluffy white clouds overhead so I grab me stuff, jump in the car and head out west.
The weather in Wales and me don’t get on all the time, in fact we argue constantly, I want sunshine and rainbows but Wales doesn’t care what I want so it tries it’s level best to deter me from coming at all, today was no different. The head sized hailstones half way there almost made me turn round but i’m more persistent than that.
By the time I parked in the car park the weather had settled into murky low cloud, the fort is visible on the euphemistically named Conway mountain, but there is no direct route, so a half mile walk east down the road to a crossroads turn left on to a wide footpath follow that up hill till you get to a T junction of footpaths, left again, when a right turn going uphill presents itself take it for a now direct route to the “citadel”.
Upon my return home and looking it up on Coflein I can see that the hill fort proper is much bigger than I thought so all I had a look at was the citadel, don’t make this mistake.
The citadel, I will continue to call it this, just for a laugh, takes up only a quarter of the entire fort, but it is the best preserved part, actually it has been partially restored if the pictures on Coflein are anything to go by.
I’ve been trying to find the time to come here for a couple of years and so far the weather is kind of cooperating, the wind is very strong but the rain passed by just a couple hundred meters away. I only spotted two definite round house platforms, there are more.
The battery in my camera now chooses it’s moment to let me down, so I swear loudly at it, it doesn’t seem to have any effect. I take it as a sign that it is time to go home and pick the kids up, but I stroll side ways over to a vantage point across from the fort and whisper sweetly to the camera, it allows me a few more photos, that’s why we anthropomorphise.
I don’t fancy retracing my steps laboriously back to the car so I try and head back in a straight line, it didn’t go well, two barbed wire fences, a wall and a small stream have to be crossed whilst keeping out of view of the two nearby houses, it was more fun but it probably took longer than the right way.
I parked in front of the gate into the next field, it is just big enough, and it is close enough to the stone to be able to run back to the car and move it if necessary.
A very good stone is this one, tall, slim and definitely taken from Orkney, this is the third stolen Stenness stone ive relocated, the other two are in North and South Wales.
After seeing quite a few stones this shape one has to wonder if it has any meaning, after some wondering I’ve decided that it just looked good to the stones erectors, as it does to me, unless the top was really broken off to help make a road, sounds unlikely.
One side of the stone has been splattered with manure, if I was farmer I’d cover it in a tarpaulin before muck spreading, but then I would ‘cause i’m not a twat, or at least not a big one.
There are other stones here, but seeing as they are all far too random to make any sense of them I ignore them return to the car and drive the long drive home, all stoned out.
To the west, and northwest of the fabulously rocky Rough Tor is one of the biggest prehistoric settlements I’ve ever seen. It runs in a north/south strip well over a thousand meters long, and about two hundred and fifty meters wide at it’s widest. There are bronze age cairns to the north, east, south and west, three stone circles to the south and south west, and Time Team dug here proving the settlement to be bronze age too.
I’ve seen hut circle groups before, many times, but not as well preserved as all these, and not even half as many as here. It is a town, or at least a big village.
It is big.
As you walk north west from Louden stone circle to Stannon stone circle the obvious and natural place to aim for and stop off at on the way is this nice little kerb cairn. The four remaining upright kerb stones are easily spotted coming out of the short grass, they sort of wave at the walker, “Cooee i’m over here, here I am, please do’nt go over to the stone circle, come and look at me, d’oh, they never come to see me, it’s not fair.” Maybe i’m putting words into the cairns mouth, or maybe i’m just anthropomorhising again, but I imagine most folk on this bit of the moor are after stone circles, and that makes me feel sorry for the underdog, I always do.
It’s a nice little kerb cairn too, the four upright stones are the shape of shark fins, circling hungrily round a large flat stone, perhaps an old turtle. There are other fins but they are sinking below the grass, and that turtle, surely that’s an intact cist. The more you look at it the more it all looks intact, it isn’t, but there’s more there to see than you can in a quick past to the stone circle.
Of the three stone circles in the area, Stannon, Fernacre and here at Louden hill, this one is in the poorest condition, and yet, even if the other circles were not here I would still have come just for these stones, perhaps not for six hours, and perhaps not all this way for just one stone circle, but with as many as 36 stones still left you have to come and see it at some time, don’t you?
Despite the high number of stones left in the circle most of them are having a lie down, which proves what I’ve always heard about the Cornish. From the south end of the circle away across the moors to the south I can just make out where King Arthurs hall is, I zoom in on it with my camera and i’m surprised I picked it out of the wilderness so easily. I’m also surprised to see the Hall framed from behind by a low hill, they do that don’t they? Frame a site by a hill when seen from another site, and surprise me.
If you’ve got a list of sites that need to be seen and Louden Hill is on it then you’ll have no choice but to come here, but you should come anyway, list or not.
Walking the farm track from Fernacre stone circle east to Louden hill stone circle there are four cairns in two pairs, the first pair are south of and close to the track.
The two cairns are about twenty feet apart and quite different looking, one is just your average stony mostly grass covered cairn, but the other has three sides of a large cist with a few kerb stones still standing, inserted into the north side of the remaining cairn material a small cist has been inserted outside of the kerb stones. I liked it a lot, if a cairn can look cute then this one would be on an internet based show called cairns make you Lol, or something.
Back to the track and about a hundred yards west the other two cairns are about twenty yards north of the track. Again there are two different looking cairns here, the furthest north is another stony grassy mound, whist the other has a big cist in it, the fourth apparently missing side slab is I think broken and half of it is in the cist. I like big cists me.
Onward to another stone circle.
I went to Stannon stone circle just over five years ago and was a bit disappointed that I didn’t have time to come here, that disappointment was well founded, I missed a good one here.
The best way to approach this stone circle is from high on Rough Tor, sitting out of the wind in some rocky cranny with a great view of the stone circle and the nearby settlement belonging to those that built and used the circle, Brown Willy is over to the left and just out of view to the right two more stone circles. This is the place, and this is the best way to approach a stone circle, from above, descending upon it like a Vimana, or a watcher from the mountains, or a middle aged man with a bad back, take your pick.
After picking my way down off the mountain and through the ghost town I stood next to the circle, right next to it, I couldn’t believe my luck, just two days ago I was limping round work with a suspected broken buttock, now, after showing my car to the problem, I am here in the circle, and even touching the stones if I want, the juxta position of these two experiences separated by just two days always blows my mind.
I didn’t count the stones, there are many, or feel the need to touch every one, they are cold and rough, except where they’re smooth, I just looked, I gave it my Star Wars face, reserved for only the first viewing of such a film, if your still wondering what face, it’s a look of disbelief mixed with one of astonished amazement.
A wandered over to the outlier, wafting gracefully like a tripped out ballet dancer, after picking myself up, it’s not a big stone but it’s obvious as an outlier, what a place, this would be high on my list of favorite Cornish places, should I ever have one.
Best of all, nearly, I’m leaving here not for the dull and depressing drive home but to another stone circle I’ve never been to. Nirvana.
If you had a time machine and wanted to bring a bronze age man to the present, you could do a lot worse than coming here, there was loads of them, women and children too. It’s hard to tell where one settlement starts and another begins, nearly a mile separates one from another but not much seems to separate the two, it’s all as big as a small modern town, are they even separate places at all ?
The ground is covered in lines of stones, long boundaries, big pounds with round houses in them, houses here and there and every where with the odd cairn thrown in just to confuse us, no wonder there’s so many stone circles round here, this was a seething pot of humanity or as Obi Wan would call ” a wretched hive of scum and villainy.”
If these are all bronze age houses and there isnt much reason not to believe so, then it’s a small logical step to presume that Fernacre stone circle barely a hundred yards away was the special place of those who lived here.
The past doesn’t come to life here, it’s all in the mind, but it does.
I’ve known about a few stone circles in the area for ages, ive known about the king of ring cairns on Showery Tor for a smaller age. But it took a TV show to really peak my interest, strangely there are no monsters, aliens or spaceships in this TV show, a common theme for most of my viewing, it’s an archaeology program, I doubt you’ve heard of it, it’s finished now, Time team it was called. This one episode has the team on Bodmin Moor below Rough Tor, investigating what they hope is a Bronze age settlement, and a very weird long curving cairn like thing.
I watch time team a lot, i’m very sad to say that ive even seen the digging up a plane one three times, so you can imagine how many times ive seen the prehistoric ones, it’s comfort watching in it’s purest form, during the many many hours of watching these characters reveal the past I have in my mind elevated them to the high position of gods. Seeing as no one can definitively say what a god is then it’s up to me to satisfy for myself what a god is or isn’t.
So to stand in the very place that the highest god of them all stood in whilst performing his miracles is a blessed thing to be doing, goose bumped and giddy I nearly exploded.
Sadly I couldn’t really tell which round house Goddess Raksha was in, I really would’ve exploded if I had.
In the Time team episode Phil only dug in one place, but he was able to detect the method of construction, the turf was stripped, large kerb stones on the outside, rubble infill with paving at the side and the turfs probably replaced on top, it would have looked very striking. But they didn’t really address the curve to it, they said it was aligned on Rough Tor, how can a curved anything be aligned, if so then only the east end is aligned on Rough Tor the western section is very much aligned on Showery Tor and it’s massive ring cairn, is it multi phase ?
North of the long cairn there are only a few cairns, and a standing stone or two, but on it’s south side it just explodes into a frenzy of things, things? there are more round houses than ive ever seen anywhere, they are everywhere, curving lines of stone cover the hill side, if they were all occupied at the same time there would have been hundreds if not thousands of people here. Bonkers.
It’s not really a long cairn though is it, it’s in an indeterminate class of it’s own, if you know of anything vaguely similar let us know.
Me and Phil Harding occupied the same physical space on earth, and to a lesser extent with Francis Prior.
I tried to come here one evening last summer whilst we were down in Cornwall, tried and failed, no map, no idea, no clue, failed.
I tucked it away into a mental back pocket, not always a good thing, it’s taken a decade to get back to some places, but I really wanted to get up Showery Tor, I really really wanted to see what I have dubbed the king of ring cairns, It would be on the front cover of a book that would be called something like Ring cairns of Britain, Ireland and Brittany, probably written by a man with a beard, anyway he would choose this ring cairn to adorn his cherished accumulation of years of travelling, above all others, it is the king of ring cairns.
Waffle
From the car park the way is clear and obvious, you might want to follow the long silly cairn up the hill, try to pick out the spot where Phil Harding and Francis Prior stood excavating, selfie opportunity. (Shoot me)
I should probably mention that today is the spring equinox and that after a five hour drive under grey skies it was clear that the sun would not be recognising my dedication to duties, but would instead be ignoring my efforts utterly. As expected really.
Anyway, I am on site at the appointed hour, but I have to look at my compass to see which way the sun is coming from, I reckon a sunset would be better, the best vantage viewing points are on the east side.
So, there’s no sun, but everything else is just superb, the ring cairn is massive, more like a henge in size, the rock stack in the middle works on me in more ways than one, on it’s own it’s an impressive little rock stack, made of pretty stones, the broken rock second from bottom....... was it broken when the ring cairn went up?
Why was it chosen for a cairn to go round it, is it just a cool place or did it have some deep meaning for them, bah, pesky mysteries.
Three ponies are sharing the hill top with me, but unlike most that ive come across they are totally unafraid of me, even pausing and posing for photos.
I’ve been here for a while now and it seems that nothing more can be gained from sitting in the wind, of which there is plenty, so after returning to the car for my lighter, I re climb the hill and sit out of the wind on little Rough Tor, a perfect point from which to zoom in a good picture of the south half of the ring cairn, until some dick on a motorbike screams round the hill top, there’s no justice, if there were he would have exploded.
Climbing higher up the side of Rough Tor itself the ring cairn is perhaps now too far away to be seen, but Showery Tor is a Minninglow of Cornwall, an unmistakable shape on the horizon, not as unmistakable as Rough Tor or Brown Willy, but you hopefully get my drift.
But now I must get off for the long legs of my walk, three stone stone circles, a dozen cairns and a hundred round houses beckon me on.
Just a mile or two west of the better known Llech y Drybedd, Trellyffant is not a middle earth megalithic beast but rather just a muddle of large stones.
I parked the car on the small lane to the chambers east, but it would probably be easier coming from the north after asking at the farm, if it is a farm, it has no living space. Either way it is only a five minute walk.
It was beginning to get dark, and after a long day stone watching this was the last place on my list. It had stopped raining, but low mists still clung to the distant Preseli hills, and the day long mugginess persisted.
But a new site is a new site and I was excited to finally get here, despite the site being more or less a pile of large stones.
The capstone is still held aloft, but is it being held up by the right stones? Two large boulders are still I think in the right place, but the rest is pretty much a confusion.
My camera has had a long day as well, it doesn’t like the wet conditions, and it’s never liked working in low light, so I put it away, don my cloak of invisibility
and walk back to the car wondering where will my next outing be to, an old favourite?, or a new site, near or far, soon or again far away.
Seven years ago I came here in high summer and though I loved the little dolmen I was frustrated by all the thick abundant plant growth, so, seeing as Ive just won round two with Parc y Llyn which is less than a mile away I decided to have another sit down with the Altar.
Driving north through Colston the place came up quicker than I was expecting, I actually remembered the bit of road that goes past the invisible dolmen, a million miles of roads traveled and I can recognize a blank country lane by nothing more than the hedge and a passing place. I parked north of the site by the high gates, climbed over them and wobbled down the slight hill over the uneven ploughed field.
I arrived at the chamber and felt gratified that I could see all the stones quite clearly, including the quartz boulder that I presume is part of the original kerbing. But just to make sure that when I photographed the stones they were as free from tangled plant blight as possible I brought my big scissors and set about the place removing as much weedy clutter as I could.
Under the capstone is still full of earth, is it just part of the bank the dolmen is now half incorporated into
or could it contain archaeological stuff. The dolmen looks like it’s struggling out of the hedge, any minute now it’ll topple out before me, like an embattled stonehunter struggling through head high gorse.
I don’t understand how they could have put the road so close to the stones, they were just a few feet from destroying the whole thing, the fact that the chamber has survived at all should be applauded, nay celebrated.
With no car parking worries this would be a place to sit and wonder for a whole afternoon, I can imagine sitting on the cap stone and not being interrupted all day, apart from the occasional traffic just a meter away. But where such a parking place would be I haven’t a clue.
Seven years ago I tried to have a look at this dolmen but was forcibly restrained by a big herd of cows, I managed to get a picture, on full zoom of what I presumed was the burial chamber. But it wasn’t enough, if you don’t get to lay hands on to the site, it goes on to the next time list, and if you fail that next time, then it goes on to the next, next time list, this was that next, next, next time. Blimey.
I parked at the entrance to the bridal path, no worries though because it’s all far to overgrown now to get a horse through, who am I Roy Rogers ? I don’t know what a horse will or wont do. Either way I parked there and bushwhacked my way through into the mercifully bovine free field.
The big capstone sticks out like a saw nose (thumbs can go in pockets so therefore don’t stick out much) so I tramped across the field to say Hylo.
The capstone is large and rippled like a turtle shell, possibly a Leatherback, it’s that size. It’s fallen on one side at the front, the side stone has slipped outwards. There is room to have a look under the cap stone towards the back, almost down on my knees and peering in the flash from my camera reveals a back stone that is as flat a stone as you can think of, it is unfeasibly flat. There is also a hollow area where it looks like something like a fox has been resting up, it certainly looks dry under there.
There are hints that more structure may exist in the large thick hedge but I could see not one thing. It has stopped raining now, so I thank the god responsible for rain cessation and move on to the next dolmen, The Altar.
Take second right hand turn when leaving St Davids on the north part of the A487. When the small lane bends to the right there is a quick parking opportunity on the bend. There may be more conscientious parking by the farm. Fortunately my conscience is on my side so we squeezed in on the bend and leaped over the fence.
The stone is just 30 yards from the car.
What a great stone.
It is tall, wide, slim, and pointy, lichen on the top.
Don’t like farmers fields.
The stone has two sides, both have recess like grooves on them that look artificial but probably aren’t. Looking down from above the stone is wedge shaped, the thin end of the wedge is sharp enough to slice through paper, the wide end is curved rather than flat.
I didn’t stay long, a price to pay for sneaking about maybe, but ive got bigger fish to fry, a fish called dolmen.
I’ve been wanting to come here for at least a decade and i’ve been trying to find a way down all year long, it took birthday money to do it in the end.
En route by 5am, I saw a standing stone and a couple of hill forts on the way, the way being 160 miles long, but this is the place i’m heading for most. It is one of three burial chambers I want to get to, places I’d had to put off till next time, but next times are nowadays hard to come by, too few and too far inbetween, so every now and then you have to push it, sleep and food must become secondary thoughts.
If only the King had taken a page out of my book.
I will exercise some restraint in further musical related puns.
I parked in the car park that I assume is for the hoards of tourists that must flock here on more sunny days, only old photographs assure me there are more sunny days, as it is I steel myself against the precocious elements and trudge, in a lonely manner, up the hill towards the farm.
The farm track right angles to the right and from here I can see the stones across the field, they are somewhat reassuringly further from the farm house than I thought. The farm track though is another matter, it might double as some kind of slurry canal, collecting it from over several fields and channeling it into a wide reservoir, map says it’s a footpath, it looks more like a lake of shit to me. I wade through it, it’s not as deep as it seems, the bottom is obviously not visible. I pass by the farm house and walk up to the stones thankfully leaving the farm behind, but not the effluent quagmire, not until i’m in the grassy enclosure with the stones does it get not muddy. This is really one of the worst placed farms i’ve ever seen, it’s like they leave the place in an utter mess on purpose, it’s enough to make you die on the toilet.
That’s not true, either way.
Firstly I cram myself under the capstone, mostly because it’s the done thing but also to escape the stinging sideways rain, incessant is the word, possibly spelled wrong, autospell is an American.
The still standing chamber is interesting enough but the other is more interesting still, I’m not sure it’s collapsed, I think it’s supposed to look like that, it looks like a recumbent and flankers, but could more likely be a type of boulder burial with two stones kind of containing it. An earth fast burial boulder like at Perthi Duon at Angelsey.
Despite the farm, shite weather and just the shite, everywhere, I stayed too long, I might have to add one of the places on my list to the other list, for next time.
God I’m hungry, deep fried cheeseburger will cure that.
Postman has left the farmyard.
There are two forts here right next to each other, this the western one is much larger than it’s counterpart.
Starting from the car park once more, it is not far to the main entrances, three ramparts there are on it’s east side, each growing in size as the higher ground is gained. The path passes through the first rampart which is very slight and grass/fern/gorse covered, the second bank the path passes through is more discernible, to the left of the path some stones protrude in sparse patches, but on the right the stone spread is considerable and reaches off into the distance wrapping itself around the contour of the hill.
The top most rampart is very impressive, again it is more grass covered on the left side of the path than on the right.
Once in the fort proper I naturally head straight for the trig point at the top, it is still raining, mist comes and goes, as does the outside world, the wind is the thing though, it is so strong I have to cling onto the trig point for safety, without it I would surely have fallen to a head crunching finale, it was like an actual malevolent force definitely trying to pull me off.
This is my third outing in crap weather in a row and I’m seriously beginning to question the validity of supernatural beings.
I scramble down spiderlike from the top and hide for a while in a WW2 gun privy, from here I can see the western wall, the wind is most absolutely wailing now, there is one spot upon me that is no longer waterproof, a chink in my impervious armour has appeared, I found out while sitting down.
The western rampart is similarly as impressive as the eastern, and again it runs from outcrop to outcrop. Back towards the entrance I decide to climb another outcrop, ostensibly to view the entrance ramparts, but from up there I can see the southern wall, once more running from outcrop to outcrop, if it is a law of fort building amongst rocks they followed it fastidiously, even the banks below the inner entrance ramparts do it, had it been a clear day I may have also been able to see Ysgubor Gaer another fortlet thingy far below, so close as to be part of the same place.
A fantastic fort in what I have been reliably informed is a pretty area. Three times ive been to Strumble and not seen the sun at all.