postman

There are two forts here right next to each other, this the eastern one is much smaller than it’s counterpart.
There is a very convenient car park between the two, so I start the walk up to the small fort from here in less than convenient rain and howling wind.
It is only a short walk up hill, before you know it your there. There wasn’t any defences on the western side of the fort at all, that I could see. The southern side of the fort is protected by outcrops and near vertical cliffs, from on top of which a great deal may be seen, near and far, but today only the near views are out, windy winds are making it a struggle to stand up. Looking down on the small squarish fort the rampart on the east is the best preserved part of it, the entrance is here.
The eastern rampart is a pretty good wide spread of stones faced with large boulders on it’s inside, with a well defined entrance in it’s centre.
The north side has a linear spread of stones, but I could only see it on the other side of an impregnable layer of gorse, damn stuff.
Below the rocks on the south side of the fort in the corner a row of rocks seems to cut off one corner of the fort, I offer no conjecture, only stating that they are there.
Why are there two forts so close together, they must surely have been allies, the big impressive entrances of both forts face east, much musing ensues.
Anyway, it’s time to tackle the big one across the road.

The last time I tried to get to this stone I came at it from the more secluded northern side but this proved a futile and fruitless task. But this time I am armed with the knowledge of failures past, and not just mine, I looked for the small blue garage on the north side of the road, next to a gate, I looked through the gate as I gangland style driveby’d, though not armed with illegal firearms, but rather an intent curious and determined eagles eye.

The frontal assault.
No sneaking round the back, no distant views, no stopping at the gate.
I parked up the road and walked the hundred meters or so back to the gate, I was mindful of the houses across the road, but ultimately I ignored them, does a landowner live there? who cares? we’ll soon see.
Quick as you like I’m in the field and striding confidently towards the stone, whilst at the same time trying to avoid excessively boggy areas, it’s been raining for hours so bog outnumbers dry 3 to 1.
No body came.
It is perhaps interesting to note what Coflein say about the site.......
Parc Cerrig Hirion is a monolith 2.1m high. A second stone, perhaps a natural boulder, was illustrated in 1875 and removed about twenty years before 1966. A possible stone pair, this stone is not the Lady Stone.
This is not the lady stone your looking for.
I wasn’t looking for one.
Is 2.1 meters about 7 feet? the stone is taller than me anyway, that’s a good gauge as to whether a stone is big or not. In profile it looks like either the Fish stone or a flint axe.
Nice stone.

I last came here seven years ago and after reading my fieldnotes from then I see that I was upset at all the building work going on near it. I’d completely forgot all about it by now and yet I was still flummoxed by the disparity between my map and the actual roads, ridiculously I ended up walking to it from the end of the blocked up road by the school, still it was only ten minutes and I had the option of going over to Ty Mawr standing stone, I didn’t though, I was on a mission somewhat.
The sun had gone down and left the sky with the deepest blue and the brightest orange clouds, and it was Halloween, if there are any restless spirits at Trefignath and lets face it if there going to be anywhere on Angelsey it might be there, I would be at the ready with my camera.
Clearly I’ve mellowed out since my last visit, the Aluminium works are still there the other side of the duel carriageway and now there’s another new road to Trefignath’s south, but they mean next to nothing to me now, partly because darkness hides all the modern sins upon the world, and partly because I can finally accept things for what they are, and they are what they are and can be nothing else. Even those interred within the tomb would be forced to agree that you cant stop progress, on a small island next to a less small island next to an island, room is always going to be sparse, the Aluminium works are over 500 meters away.

Pondering the surroundings aside, this is a brilliant burial chamber, I love the swirling stones of the surviving chamber, I love the fact the whole thing is built on a rock outcrop, how did they get the uprights to go in? I even like the open unroofed chamber, I’m all alone under a fabulous sky and there is no rubbish lying around.
The spirits, if they be here, are not upset or angry, I felt no hand upon my shoulder, but happy and playful and appear in the sky as unidentifiable lights, see fifth picture.

Coflein provides the many blue spots and we only have to click on them to see what wonderful things there are abroad in our often less than inspiring countryside.
So when I clicked on this Bronze age round cairn, high on a cliff overlooking the Irish sea, and below a frankly brilliant Iron age fort, I thought “oooh that’ll be a good one”. The sea crashing against the rocks up and down the coast, Choughs and seagulls going about their daily business, the sun slowly sinking into Southern Ireland which would be clearly visible on a clear day, inspiration guaranteed I’d have thought.

It rarely, if ever, goes the way we’d like it to though.

100 miles separate my house from South Stack on Angelsey and not for one second did I spend any time driving through fog on the way here. Parking in the car park by the gift shop/cafe etc I could see fog on Holyhead mountain, but it was windy and I’m not going up to the fort so I was still hopeful of some inspiration coming my way.
I walked up the road past the bright white folly Ellin’s tower, to another, less formal car park, behind this one is a footpath, I let it lead me away up hill and into the fog, which will be lifting any minute now. I pass by two small lakes which I cant see because of a misty ridge between us, I come across a well laid road, leading no doubt to the two Aerials that are down here, the first aerial is just a tall pole, with two small buildings, pass ‘em by, the second aerial is much bigger, at least the scaffolding where it was is, unless the scaffolding is the aerial, either way pass it by on a stony foot path.
As soon as you pass the perimeter fence go up the rocky hill directly behind it, the round cairn is up here.
I’m sure the big aerial less than 150 meters away might have an impact upon your soul searching, but in this thick fog it is completely invisible. As is the sea, the mountain, the sun, and everything else, let alone Ireland some 91,165 meters away, sorry, 56 miles.
The cairn sits on it’s small rocky ridge rather precariously there is no room either side of the cairn, some stones are down the side of the hill, it is, even without spacial awareness, an impeccably placed cairn.
The makeup of the cairn is various, on top is the larger stones, pushed round the sides to create a bit of a wind break, but mostly they are small stones, fist sized maybe, some are quartz in differing colours. In the centre of the cairn are a couple of large flat stones that if Phil Harding told me were from a broken cist I could be persuaded, but here on my own, I merely shrug at them and stare blankly into the fog. There is one large boulder, off to one side that is somewhat more problematical, it must be part of the cairn, it wont be field clearance, not here, my sense starved brain decides it’s a cist capstone in the Irish boulder burial tradition, considering where I am, that’s not totally without logic.
On my way back to the car I casually break in to the aerial’s compound, drawn on by clearer skies, I can see blue, I stand round under the aerial watching to see if the ridge with the cairn clears of fog, ready to scamper back up if it does, but it doesn’t, as I get closer to the cairn the fog thickens as I pull away it lessens, closer thickens, pull away lessens, some may joke about weather gods, but it practically introduced itself here. Barely more than a hundred yards west of the cairn and aerial the sun comes out, out of the fog and it’s a beautiful day, tourists stand round watching the dramatic sunset over the sea, I turn back to the hills and fog and shake my head, like that is it?
I’ll go to Trefignath instead, it’s not far away, maybe I could make it there before the sun goes down, it will be a good one by the looks of it.

The first time I came here was about a decade ago, the day before my son went to nursery, the day before I began to lose him, that’s what school does, it peels away your fingers from gripping his little hand one by one, and smiles in your face while it does it. So I decided we would go somewhere good, somewhere far away, somewhere far removed from organised schooling, so that at least I could remember him in his natural surroundings. But that was an awful long time ago, he thinks for himself now unfortunately, muuum he’s thinking for himself again, tell him.
I borrowed a library map last time, and would’ve this time too if they didn’t keep such wimpy hours. So I bought one, a tenner it cost me, you can have it if you want, I left it there, knowing that the next people to visit the three brothers would get horribly lost and there would be this map, like a gift from god (small G) probably.
My daughter came out with me, but as with the other four places I went to today she stayed in the car, I blame the schools whole heartedly.

I’d forgotten how steep and narrow the path gets on the way up, but I do like a nice walk in the woods, and this is one. Turn right at the gate and stile in the wall, take note of the map on the wall, it wont help much, but it is reassuring to know your in the vicinity.
The terrain changes much depending on the time of year and which decade you go, ten years ago there was no trees growing out of and next to the brothers, no brambles choking the southern brother, they were all perfectly intervisible, not anymore.
Passing through the gate take the second turning left, ignore the path, it wont take you to the brothers, look for some small white rocky cliffs on your right, the brothers are above and to the left of the bright white cliffs, I don’t think any of that will help, call out loud to the stones, ask any and all animal life for directions, if in doubt a big tree will always help you out, you probably think I’m being daft, give it a go next time your failing to find your way.

The three brothers is a quiet and beautiful place, the endless peace was only interrupted by bird song, gun fire and car racing noises, ok so it was just beautiful this time, but normally........

I really hope this place hasn’t been abandoned to nature, it wont look after the brothers, the southern brother was almost entirely covered in brambles, I removed as much as I could without cutting myself to ribbons, again. It is all just too overgrown to appreciate so I climb up onto the middle brother, and sit quietly contemplating this little world, now that I can see all three brothers, I can also see my map on the fence and remind myself not to forget it.
But I do anyway, I blame the schools.

I found it on my first attempt, and with no OS map either, I google earthed the crap out of the site at home first though.
Heading north on the A683 out of Kirkby Lonsdale, take first right turn to High Casterton, keep going over two crossroads, the second of which has you going up a dead end road to Bullpot, near the top of the hill look for a footpath going left. Parking for two or three. The rest is easy, up the path the circle is in the fifth field on your left.
Ta daa!
A lovely little stone circle is this, perfect in it’s littleness. It is very similar to a lot of Welsh stone circles, same size, same small stones, similar setting, the more things change the more they stay the same, or some such bollocks. I counted 18 stones, then 17, then 18 again, then I lost count half way round, gave up and lay on the floor.
Erect once more I circle the ring inspecting it 360 degrees, the mound/platform is a bit weird, why bother? just put it twenty feet that way, unless there is some overwhelming reason to put it exactly where it is. Who knows the mind of ancient man? they were all bonkers.
The view down into the Lune Valley is pretty good, lets be honest there’s thousands of them in England alone, but not many of them have a fine stone circle to appreciate them from, that is why were here of course.
The hillside directly behind the circle is in my opinion a bit untidy, a tadd scruffy, unkempt, there’s loads of big clearance cairns made into half shelters, but one lone rock caught my eye on the way back, it had some cup mark like thingies on it, I presume they must be natural, but only because they’ve not been mentioned before, til now.

From the junction of the A590 and the A591 roundabout near Sedgwick, take the Sedgwick exit and once over the river turn right, after going over the A591 a parking place appears on the right, stop here and proceed on foot through the stile, you wont be able to take the car over it’s far too heavy.
The path will attempt to herd you left, ignore it and go straight on towards the river. Look for a large mound, hillock, knoll, bump, the ring cairn is between you and it.
The ring cairn is now more grassed over than in Greywethers photos, less distinct, but still large and obvious. A small cairn like thing is close by to the north east, it is a good place to look over the ring cairn. But not as good as the small hill, large mound, average sized knoll, and indeterminate sized hillock that is to the south. From up here the ring cairn looks like something from down south, some kind of flat barrow, a splash in the grass. I like it it. I didn’t like the wooden cage on the hillock, clearly what ever was in there has escaped, unless the grass round here has some evil plans.
Reading Fitzcoraldo’s misc note you get an inkling that this might be a complicated site to appreciate, it is. Strange linear bumps at odds with the overall circularity of it, inexplicable large stones randomly placed, it has a juicy history.
The river Kent is close by down a grassy slope, some men were hunting, I presume for fish, they were actually in the water waving sticks at them, damnedest thing I ever saw.

It must be ten years since I last saw this standing stone, and not one modern antiquarian has been here in the intervening years, I’m saddened and disappointed, a bit. Ok, there are bigger stones in the Lake district this ones just over five foot, and the view is agreeable but it’s no Castlerigg and the many other stone circles are much more interesting. But really ? no one?
There is parking for two by the gate with the no parking sign, the stone is less than two hundred yards from the road, no problem. This end of the long field has lumpy bumpy moraine type mounding in it, the stone stands defiantly at the edge of one of these lumpy bumps, not far away is a seemingly buried stone.
It is a good stone, not far up the off the beaten track, why not make a quick detour when visiting any of the sites in south Lakeland, poor stone, and poor me for feeling sorry for a rock in a field.

You could combine a trip up to these cairns with a visit to Pen-y-Gaer hill fort, but I didn’t fancy the long walk back, so I went back to the car and drove closer and walked from there.
There, being the small dead end lane that runs west/east south of the mountain. I parked the car in an unused and overgrown gateway, so far so good, but then the footpath marked on my map has disappeared, it says the path goes past a farm house called Llethr-ddu, so I trust in the ordnance survey and go that way, despite a complete lack of footpath signs and stiles, I felt a bit trespassery here, but I tuned it out and concentrated more on the scenery. Mostly the scenery consists of The Rivals, ie; Tre’r Ceiri and Mynydd Carnguwch, the loveliest of all Welsh hills.
As I leave the farm house behind me I’m passing along some old walls with frankly massive boulders in them, dismantled dolmens I’m sure.... not.
Getting higher, the hill fort I went to earlier rises above the near horizon, provided by Moel Bronmiod, itself topped with, no, not a cairn but a large Dartmoorish rocky tor, I’d quite like to be up there, but you cant go everywhere at once, though I’ve heard of a man who knows someone who can.
As I get up towards the top the ground gets distinctively more rocky, progress can be quicker and easier but more dangerous, i’m about 9/10ths of the way up and my daughter sends me a text saying were going out for tea with Grandma, I’ve got three and a quarter hours to get home, well screw that I decide, an intense flurry of texts ensue, a bizarre thing to be doing in such a place as this, and problem sorted, they’ll all wait for me to get home. I am the man.

One tenth further on and i’m confronted with two of the best yet badliest? treated hill top cairns I’ve ever had the pleasure to behold.
Some dense twat has built two walls over them, clearly and depressingly out of the cairns themselves.
The big cairn has a wall run right through it, either side of the wall is a canyon where the stones have been stolen.
The smaller cairn has two walls meet right on top of it, making photographing the whole cairn impossible. One side of a wall has a very small amount of cairn, it was this bit I saw first, I thought “hunh?” then looked over the wall and saw much more on the other side, but a wall runs through that as well. All very bad.
The culprit should be chastised, extremely chastised, take a moment, stop reading and think of something horrible we could, nay should do to him, it was bound to be a he, probably American.

But it’s not all bad, despite the intrusions the cairns are still there, large and comforting, and the stone that has been robbed hasn’t gone far.
I decide a walkabout is now due, so I skip lightly across towards the summit, I’ve also decided that getting to the rocky toppest of Gyrn Ddu’s summits, can wait for another time, but just below it is a grassy knoll that would make a good place to get the big cairns with all of Snowdonia behind, plus another cairn is over this way, if it’s not too far I’ll go take a look.
It’s probably about now that I should mention the view from up here, it’s pretty good.
Nope, I cant do it, the view is impeccable, the eyes are glued to the Lleyn peninsula, The Rivals vie for attention among themselves, the over quarried one losing every time. Mynydd Carnguwch, is the sweetest most perfectly shaped hill in the known world, it fits in the vision like something soft and warm in the hand. Wow.
Time to go, I skirt around Gyrn Ddu’s summit until the the other cairn comes into view, it is indeed too far, a quick zoom through the camera and I’m away, stumbling with shaking legs, not looking forward to the frantic drive home, but so glad I took the time to get over to this under achieving part of North Wales.

I was right to be not looking forward to the drive home the A55 has of late been over ridden with cars going no where important, and three road accidents had to be gotten through, who is passing these idiots, any idiot can pass his test, but not anyone can remain incident free for 25 years and still be doing five times as many miles per year. Grumpy!

I parked the car on the drive up to Tyddyn-mawr farm, not as bad as it sounds, there was a load of big black silage bags to hide behind, there was no one around, and the driveway doubles as a bridleway, or so my map says, there are no signs saying so. Besides the fort is only half a mile from here, and I’ve got to walk through the farm to get there, if I see anyone I shall have a word, but I didn’t, so no problem.
In fact I never saw anyone on the hills all day long, but then this is quite out of the way for Snowdonia, if it’s in the national park at all.
After passing through and over several gates i’m out on the hills, I cant see the fort now because of big rocky outcrops to the forts south, so I make for these. From here I had a good look about, far to the south is Tremadog Bay, further west is the Lleyn peninsula, and just below me a fox rushes through the bracken chasing down some lunch. Not bad.
From the rocks it is a short but steep walk up to the fort. Two Buzzards circle above me, screeching at each other, or me.
It was hard going, but eventually I’m at the top, I can see my car far below, despite it’s lack of redness, it looks more than half a mile.
Firstly I go directly to the top, and sit, but i’m plagued by large furry bee like flies, theyre so slow I can knock them out of the sky with my hand, god there’s loads, they’re like flies round, no wait that wont work.
I abandon the summit and take my tour of the defences, at the north end the stony ex wall has got covered in grass, but as I move along the grass is gone and a wide spread of iron age walling, that does not stand at all, moving on.
Far below me I can see the hut circle marked on the map but uncharacteristically I checked Coflein before I left and found it to be Roman, so I didn’t go down, which was good because I couldn’t be arsed.
Next is the fairly obvious entrance, facing west to the next hill along Moel Bronmiod.
Modern walling stands on top of the ancient fallen spread of wall at the southern end of the fort. Also at the far south end of the fort are a few hut circles, or rather circular platforms cut into the hills slope, some have big stones where the entrances are. I only saw three or four, Coflein says there’s a dozen or so.
There are no fortifications on the east side, it is far too steep to storm the fort from here, from below it looks like any tall rocky hill, the big impressive wall faces only west, Tre’r Ceiri, the city of giants is that way.
Moel Y Gest hill fort is visible south east over near Cricceth.
Carn Bentyrch, Carn Fadryn, Carn Boduan are a few other forts seen from here.
Absolutely cracking site with epic views all round.

No fieldnotes since the re-erection, how very odd.

I parked at the gate by the big fancy “look what we did” information board, and took a slow walk down to the dolmen, we had the place to ourselves but the roar of many children playing in the woods drowned out all but the most steadfast of thoughts.
It was a gorgeous evening and we would soon be treated to another jaw dropping Cornish sunset so I decided we would stay until the glorious end, the show would not be over til the fat lady had sung her song.
The stones looked lovely in the setting sunshine, and definitely look better standing up, they did a pretty good job, it’s doubtful I’d have come to see a pile of stones half covered in nettles, but this is very good, natures helping out though.
By all accounts, well just one really, this dolmen has a complicated floor, other smaller stones still lie around unexplained, the curve of angled pebbles at the front? of the dolmen are remnants of the paving, or so I’m left to presume, over 2000 finds from the dig and now there’s a time capsule down there too.
Almost unbelievably the archaeologists say that the stones were never covered in a mound of any sort, but that you could walk under it even in the neolithic, I cant believe that, an open air burial chamber ?, burial chambers are supposed to keep the remains of the illustrious departed safe, it would be like building a car with no wheels, a plane with no wings, an interstellar mission with no murderous robot. Nope.
We’re interrupted a couple of times by photographic opportunists from what looks to be a caravan site in the adjacent trees, but we’re sitting at the front on the purpose made sitting stone, out of the way.
Here it comes, the sun is going down, (photo) going, (photo) going (photo) gone.
There are three clumps of nettles that seem not to have been mentioned by the sustainable trust, each clump has a squarish pit dug into the ground and in each pit is a large stone. The only thing I can come up with is Sweetcheat mentioned a nearby stone circle once, I think, maybe it was a dream.
Just like my whole time in Cornwall.

I parked by a field gate just down the road from the gate you have to climb over to get to the stones. Over the gate and the stones are easily seen about a hundred yards away by the far field wall. I neither sprinted nor asked for permission, sprinting is for young people, and permission is for people who don’t belong, plus if you don’t want people wandering round the field out back, move.
Another nine maidens ? really ? Is crap at counting a Cornish thing, you’ve got ten fingers......try again.
Never been here before and don’t know anything about it, I like that.
At first glance it seems there’s only four stones left of this circle, but another has been built into the adjacent wall, but only visible from the other side of it. I didn’t know of the other, also built into the wall but closer to the house, probably from the second circle. Drat I’ll have to go back for a longer look. When I learned more of these ruined circles I realised that I did know of these stones after all they’re in Burls guide of stone circles but named as Wendron.

We went to Paignton zoo earlier on today, the kids asked “what next dad”,
“umm, some stones maybe” I replied, pushing my luck,
“ok”
That went better than I expected so we drove back into Cornwall and headed for Redruth, no mean feat with the A30 being widened and so, actual hell on the roads.

A trio of sites for this evenings delectation, with blue skies and bright sunshine, I pulled up at the entrance to the farm house and saw the tall stone not far away. If you look on Google earth streetview there’s an actual stone head on his way over to the stone.
The stones not far from the road but a locked gate needs to be climbed over, so we did. Private property or not a look from the road aint never going to be enough. En route to the stone a car drove up the farm house driveway, we had a good look at the stone, took a few photos, copped a feel and made our way back to the car.
No problem.

When you get two full moons in the same month we call it a blue moon, today is that day, blue is nearly my favorite colour so with the moon showing us a full fat face we decided to pay a visit to Men an Tol.
Well, we were in the area already having just been up to the Nine Maidens so it would be prosecutably stupid not come over to the stones.
It was getting dark so we had the place to ourselves, then we reckoned that we may have gone through the holed stone the wrong way last time so we went through from the other direction three times, just to make sure, I really don’t want Scrofula.
Then we were away, just a few minutes, that’s all, a quick hello to an old friend.

En route to the wonder that is the Nine maidens, I spied a large stone protruding from the bracken and decided to have a look on the way back. So..... on the way back we made our way over to the stone and found a well defined ring of stones, oooh I thought, it’s a cairn. Then I saw the hole with the metal in it and I realised where I am, Sweatcheat posted on this just the other month, hey look at that I said, that’s good isn’t it. Eric didn’t get it , and I never explained.
The sun was very low now, and the light was going, the bracken was high and kind of obscuring so we headed off to Men an Tol, I’d quite like a photo of it with the full moon.

I have by now forgotten how long I’ve been going out stone hunting, but way back at the beginning before the kids were born we came to Lands end, but I decided it was a stone too far for my diabetic wife. The next two trips down here it was too far for my small children, but this is the day when it all comes together.
Today we went to the Scilly isles, first stone up the road from Penzance was Lanyon quoit, that’s a good one, then we parked in the Men an Tol car park and Eric and me left Phil in the car and went for a walk.
All those years ago if someone had said you wont be going to that stone circle until your as yet unborn son is 13 I’d have laughed and come back down the week after just to prove him wildly wrong, but there you go, people who don’t exist know the future.

We noted the entrance on to the moor where the holey stone is, I didn’t mention it to Eric at the time but I intend to quickly call in on the way back. Then Men Scryfa goes by on our left, I fight off the urge to go over, I haven’t seen it since my first time, pre kids, so we carry on.
The track bends to the right and we follow it on up the hill, I thought we’d have been able to see it by now, surely when we get to the top of the hill we will be able to, and so it is.
The top of the hill has a small standing stone standing just proud of the bracken on it, I decide to have a quick look at it on the way back. But from here the nine maidens are clearly visible maybe a hundred yards away, onwards.
Eric stops to answer natures call and momentarily loses his phone, but I am blissfully unaware of this because I am at the stones and they are blowing me away, I am alone in brilliant sunshine at a stone circle that it seems I can only get to once in a blue moon, bugger where is that boy I can’t see him at all, that’s never a heart warming feeling. Then he just pops up out of the heather and mozies on over, all unhurried like.
I’m kind of glad that I didn’t come before the re-erection of stone/stones, i’m sure the impact would have been lessened if more stones were lying down.
Whilst maybe half of the stones have gone the circle is still complete, no quarter is left stoneless.
Sweetcheat says this is his favorite site of all, I never really got that, I cant quite put my finger on my favorite site, but being here right now, I can see why he likes it. The stones are tall and made of a fine kinda stone, the barrow on the edge reminds me of Arbor low, the cut off outlier reminds me of Mithcells fold’s outlier. I suddenly feel connected with vastly disparate places all around the island, i’m feeling giddy like I did when I got to the ring of Brodgar. The sun is beginning to set, and we’re bathed in glorious golden light, but then someone else turns up at the stone circle coming from the direction of the mine whose name I may not mention.
We’re sharing the stones with a couple now, it’s proving impossible to photograph the stones without getting a fat old man in them, then his slim wife points out the full moon just risen in the east. Then my phone alarm goes off, it’s a reminder that today is the day of a blue moon, that’s two full moons in the same month. It shouldn’t have the impact on me that it did, it’s a simple occurrence, but it blows me away, you should literally imagine an explosion with me at its epicenter, leaving only a stunned and smiling shell. It’s taken maybe 18 years to come here, and not only am I here, i’m here with my son at a very decent stone circle on a beautiful day at sunset and with a full moon rising and it’s blue.

This is why I do this.

You cant go to Bants Carn without having at least a quick look at the ancient village, with time all run out we had a whirlwind tour, stopping only to photograph the best bits. I can well see how someone could spend all day on this hillside, but we only have two minutes.
The stones used in some places are big ones, standing as tall as me, the houses are easily picked out from the many various stones, it mostly reminded of Chysauster.
But mostly it was just a very pretty place to be, like most of St Mary’s.
I’ve fallen for Scilly a bit, can’t tell though can you ?

Sadly this is the last of the trio of “show” sites that I’ve got time for today, and even sadder is that I’ve got the least time to spend at one of them. But, it was quite easy to tear myself away from this little beauty because a noisy family had set up camp for the day no more than twenty feet from the chamber. Strangely there would be no one at all at the Halangy down settlement down the hill.
But my ten minutes with the stones were very productive, that’s not the right word, rather, this place is about three hundred miles from my house but I’d prefer to be here for just ten minutes than at home all day watching crap on TV. A very worthwhile ten minutes, I found the place to be very beautiful, the light on the water, the distant beaches, the pinky red heather, the green grass, of course grass is green, but right now, it’s, just more. Even the gorse has shed it’s new sweary name.
The burial chamber is now my new lost love, we had just ten minutes together, a brief encounter to be sure, but not on a stinky railway station but on a pretty sunlit island, a ten minute rendezvous that i’ll always remember. She was beautiful, showing more naked stone than the other two sites I fancied, check out those capstones, you can see it all. Inside the tomb was light, airy and a cool place to be.
From outside the tomb looked like a spaceship to me, Cylon maybe, or the attack UFO’s from Independence day.
But is she beautiful? can a burial chamber, which is after all, an arrangement of stones, be beautiful?
Naturally speaking, shouldn’t only the opposite sex be beautiful, why rainbows, why a tiger, a diamond, a car, are they all linked, why do we find so many things to be lovely ?
Answers on a postcard to.........

From Innisidgen lower it is but a two minute walk to this bigger better burial chamber. I’m no linguist but I’ve decided that an Innisidgen is a stunningly beautiful place with an ancient site that you wouldn’t mind spending eternity at, it should be entered into the next edition of the dictionary. It’s almost my idea of absolute perfection, what it really needs is some big mountains across the water and I would literally never go home.

The burial chamber is kind of hunched high on one side as you look at the front, inside is graveled and dry, I could easily sleep in there for a night, in fact, you could bum around the island for several days sleeping in a different chamber each night, though some might frown upon this, you know what people are like.
The big tree nearest to the chamber has a long rope hanging from it, a tarzy i’m informed, it keeps the kids occupied whilst I lose myself in this paradise.
The chamber is sited on a slight ridge that allows good views east, north and west, I’m not very beach oriented, but the way the light shines on the sea is, well it’s lovely. But even the way the light strikes the grass, the ferns, the rocks, it’s really too much for this Cheshire plains based soul to take.
All too soon it’s time to vacate the premises, the kids almost have to drag me down off the rocks next door to the chamber.

I will certainly be back.
A perfectly blissful place.

It all got a touch confusing trying to find this place, I couldn’t work out which turning to take off the main road, in the end a passing walker asked if we needed any help, to which I jumped at. He directed us down Pungies lane, then turn right onto McFarlands down, after about a hundred yards of rough cobbley track you come to a sign Left to Bants Carn and right to Innisidgen. We took the bikes with us as far as we could then left them and walked on down the footpath along past the beach, passing a rather redundant Innisidgen sign, a single path, with no turn offs, and half way along it is this daft sign pointing the only way you can go anyway. It should have been back along the track where it would have been informative and helpful.
And we’re there, we sit on the dry mossy grass next to the chamber, have an eat and drink, and wonder at our surroundings, I have to keep pinching myself and reminding myself that were still in England, in England, but this definitely isn’t Crewe Toto.

The whole mound and chamber are built upon a slope just above the sea line, the chamber is open at both ends, and only two capstones remain. Some big white kerb stones are showing.
It’s a great little tomb, but overshadowed somewhat by the wondrous surroundings, I’ve not got much connection with the coast or beaches, but this place is lovely, but not quite as lovely as Upper, up there, but it’s not visible from here because of the verdant growth of ferns, but I can see the rocks that overlook it.

This is one of those places that is, at one of, the ends of the world, ancient man had a thing for at the ends of the world, The Isle of Lewis and Orkney are two other good ones. Like them it takes a lot to get here, firstly is the big drive down, it’s a big drive from everywhere outside of Cornwall, then there’s the two and a half hour puke fest on board HMS Nausea. Next you have to decide what to see, with little more than four hours to spend here the choice is a difficult one.
We rented a trio of bikes to get around on, with two much messy abouty kids with me, speed was going to be key today. The plan, such as it was, was to get to all three of the sites in the TMA big orange book, first on the list, because it’s closer is the Great tomb on Porth Hellick down.

Scilly isn’t just extremely out of the way, it is extreme in many ways, there are up to seven other chambered cairn in the near vicinity, none have been restored like the Great tomb. The next hill over also has a tonne of tombs too, Do you like oddly shaped weathered big stones, they’ve got loads all over the place. Loads of exotic plants and extremely none English weather, hardly any cars ( except that one) and they’re not, and this should be strongly emphasised speaking French.
Extremely good !

Scillonian tombs aren’t great big massive affairs, like in Brittany, these tombs are low, get on your knees, melting into nature tombs. So with goosebumps and
a flutter in my chest I get on my knees and sidle past the blocking stone at the entrance and enter the crypt.
Chamber, but crypt went in better, there’s possibly too much cement visible inside, reminding you too much that this is a restoration job, never a bad thing is restoration, but some go better than others, at least there’s no modern bricks showing.

The unroofed passage was my favorite part, the old bright stones bursting with little flowering plants, even if some of it was gorse, my new worst enemy.
Walking round the tomb the kerbing stands pround of all flowers and grass, the tomb has a deflated look to it, like a cushion used by Brian Blessed for a while.
Monkey boy suggests a photo from the tree house in that tree over there would look quite good, I couldn’t help but agree so we climbed up for a look about, and concluded that this was an extremely good place to be, not up the tree, I hate heights, but the down, put us on a marvelous up.

It’s taken a really long time to get here, I’ve until now only seen it from the A386 Tavistock to Okehampton road, from where it looks very much like a Dartmoor Glastonbury, a Dunnideer, a Beeston, a lone hill with a medieval building on it. I liked the look of it from the A386, so I decided that one day I’d have a look, and with my usual get up and go-ness it’s taken well over ten years.

Parking is at the Brentor church car park, parking is free. Then across the road through the gate and there’s the Tor with the church perched on top.
If you keep left on the path, your taken through what I hope is the original entrance to the fort, a long bank curves from here around the base of the hill.
But most people, myself included would most likely head straight to the top, to the best view, to the most obvious point of interest, the church.
But on the way I noted a load of other earthworks, including another inner entrance.
Soon enough the wind is blowing, Crows are keeping an eye on all who get to the top, and i’m getting that mountain top feeling.
Really, I didn’t even know this was a hill fort until I decided to make this my stop off point. It’s just a bonus really, the main thing about this extremely extinct volcano is that you can sit on top and marvel at the world before you, and if you’ve got any questions God is just over your shoulder.
“God, what are coincidences made of?”
“You wouldn’t understand”
“Aah”

It’s been so long since my last time here I haven’t a clue which way I came from, all I remember is it was across lots of fields and we eventually came at it from the east.
That was the wrong way, approach from the south, much easier, comparatively.
My daughter Phil and me attempted to follow the footpath to it, for there is one, but it is never used and so overgrown as to be invisible. It was too overgrown for my girls soft girly legs, she went back to the car, whilst I battled on. A big machete would be very handy here.
Eventually I came out of the trees and there are the big stones. They are very big, and very white, and with no farm park I was free to clamber up on to the top of them. It was now that I received a phone call asking if we wanted to go out to the Plough for tea, grumbles, and no Trefignath, but ok.
I walked all around looking at the stones from near and far, I scrambled on the stones and crawled underneath them, I had a good look at them close up too, I doubted that they were entirely made of quartz, but on closer inspection it looks like they are.
Imagine if this was next door to Duloe stone circle, quartzite heaven.
It’s generally accepted that they are a fortuitous arrangements of rocks, evidence of an ancient burial remaining unsubstantiated, but I see no reason why the large flat stone could not have been moved into it’s current position, I cant think how else it got where it is.

This place is not on the map, I found it through luck (or not) whilst blue dot thumping on Coflein, the best way I’ve found to flush out new and interesting sites.
I parked to the south and could see my quarry sat atop its rocky Gorsedd, it was no further away than the walk to my mum’n dads house round the corner, 400 yards tops.
But, and the size of the but can not be understated, a sea of Gorse seemed to completely surround the site.
At first I thought Id just get to the outcrop next to it and sit there a while, time was going to constrict my playtime here, sadly. But the rogue in me thought screw it c’mon how hard can it be?
I found a path through the gorse, bramble and bracken.
The path, it is not an actual footpath but rather a critter worn path, I saw some wee ponies earlier perhaps it was them, took me almost right next to the site, only a twelve foot vertical cliff to scale and I’m there.
Arriving at the top was an exhilarating moment, the view was phenomenal, distant Snowdonia wreathed in thick white clouds, the sea is east and west and Holyhead mountain big and white was the northern horizon, and that famous hut circle group somewhere over there (I’m pointing can you see me)
Only three stones remain upright, there no taller than three feet, and they curve, as if describing an arc of the chamber, Coflein say they might be part of a large cist. I also fancied a couple of long stones as curb stones.
But the best thing is the view, sure Holyhead is a bit of an eyesore, after Port Talbot it’s, for me, the worst town in Wales.
Like I said, time was against me, somewhere to go, but like always I tried to go in a straight line back to the car, biiig big mistake, from now on gorse will always be spelt with a small G.
Sign my petition to get it’s name changed to M****r F****r, that’s a bad swear word there.

There is no easy way to get here, there can be no drive by action photo, not even a leisurely sunny picnic, you cant even, if you get there, point at the ancient site and say there it is. This is about as far from civilisation as you can get in Wales, but it is not off the beaten track, it is right on it, it is not far from the maddening crowd, you’d think it would be, until 40 odd runners jog by.
My walk started in the full car park at Bwlch y Dduefaen, after a quick shufty round Barclodiad Y Gawres, and the standing stones it was follow the old grey wall up the hill. After much turning round and staring off wistfully into the distance I got up on top of the first summit, Carnedd y Ddelw, it has a very good cairn. Then up to Carnedd Penyborth-Goch on top of Drum, it too, as the name suggests is a cairn, it’s not quite as good as the last one but it occupies a superior position.
The plan was get up Llwytmor mountain, but as my memories fade into soft middle age I realise that I cant get to Llwytmor without going up Foel Fras. So I just go up there, and decide to see what is what when I get there.
The incredible landscape up on Foel Fras should have been enough to keep me seated here until it was time to go, but a couple of race marshals are just a few meters away and the runners are passing by closely, did I mention there is some kind of cross country race going on, these fruit cakes are actually trying to run up a mountain, they fail quite entertainingly, it does me good to see people more knackered than me, one plonker had his shirt off and asked me for sun cream, your kidding right, expose my skin to the angry sun?. I watched them pass me by and wondered how you would go about getting up a mountain quickly, apparently you bend over double, grab your knees and push, wringing every last drop of energy from those poor abused legs.
Like I said, this new to me summit should have been enough, but the newly laid path isn’t too steep up to the next summit, which looks like it’s got a killer view of Yr Elen and if i’m not mistaken is Garnedd Uchaf, I absolutely refuse to call it by that new fangled name, what ever it is.
So I gird my loins, I lied there sorry, I don’t even know what girding is, and head off for what surely must be my final destination.

Coflein says very little about the summit of Garnedd Uchaf, it only assumes there was a cairn here because of the mountains name, Carnedd is a cairn. But it also, just to add to the TMA’ers confusion, says there are some piles of stones that delineate the county border, it was I think one of these that I’ve photographed and put up on here.
There may well be a ruined cairn up here somewhere, but there is so much stone up here that you could probably point at ten collections of stone and say is that it? or maybe none at all. There is enough stone up here to build half a dozen Castleriggs and still have enough left over for a Long Meg or two. Perhaps the most conspicuous of prominent rocks up here is what earned this peak the name of Carnedd, it certainly looked like a big cairn from Foel Fras. I take a seat among these highest rocks as much out of the wind as possible which is not at all because it’s coming from the direction I want to face. The direction you want, no, the only way to look is southish, the view is stunning, possibly the best view in Wales, shoot, I may have said that before. Immediate and centre is yr Elen, to it’s left is Foel Grach, Carnedds Llewelyn and Dafydd, to it’s right Carnedd y Filiast, Elidir Fawr and maybe Y Garn, and many more as the saying goes. With no cairn to inspect there is much time to admire the view, and it is admirable. But mountain watching, brilliant as it is, always has an end and I’m reaching my end of the day, the good thing about the route I’ve taken is I get to see the whole thing again, all four or five miles of it.
By the time I get back to the car my feet aren’t just sore, they’re positively throbbing, and the battery in my camera died too soon, and I didn’t have anyone to say “hey, that looks good doesn’t it” to, I felt a bit guilty not having Alken with me, I know he’d have loved it.

The Chipping Norton triangle, a triangle whose sides are 4,5,and 6 miles long, the north point is at the Rollright stones, the south west point is at the Churchill stones, and the south east point is at the Hoar stone burial chamber near Enstone. Along the south line of the triangle is Knollbury hill fort and the Hawk stone. All completely meaningless of course but it’s broadly true.
Not been here for ages, I liked it then, and I like it now, you don’t have to share this site with any long views, it’s just you and the stones. A very private place, despite the crossroads, I even like the fact that it’s at the crossroads, many strange things occur at crossroads, I imagine.
What is it with Hoar stones round here, there must be half a dozen, and that’s not including the Thor stone and the Hawk stone both surely deriving from Hoar, and what is a Hoar, and do they moan?

What a brilliant standing stone this one is, gnarled, pitted and worn beyond belief, but that’s not all it’s got going for it. With long agricultural views east and south, the many wild flowers everywhere there aren’t crops, the skylark giving it some high above, the stones size, over seven feet, and the early morning sunshine, but that’s not the stones doing, that’s probably Sod’s law, the sun was late coming out at the Rollright’s on this summer solstice morning.
I drove past it once, then had to go back, then move up a bit further, there’s no clue as to where the stone is, but a bit of perseverance will pay off, it’s not a long road.
What a brilliant stone.

I parked in the wee lay by to the south west of the fort, from here the south bank of the fort is a mere ten feet away. Over a very flat topped wall that’s made to look inviting to climb over and up the bank to the top, inside the fort a large brown Doe spots me and bounds away to the far bank and up onto it, it turns to watch me for a minute then it’s gone over the other side.

I set off on the obligatory walk around, clockwise. The grasses are very long and it doesn’t take long to get soaked from the knees down, I plod on. Turning the north west corner to where the deer was, I can see where it was sat in the grass, but no tracks because of the way it bounds over the grass.

The east end is very disturbingly open, ploughed down to get into the fort is my thought, but I don’t know.
The fort is very rectangular for the Iron age.
This would be an amazing place to lie in the grass of an evening and watch the clouds float by, and perhaps get up to some shenanigans below the grass line, but not in the morning though, that would be weird, and wet.

This site has been languishing in my to do list for years, so after a solstice sunrise at the Rollright stones I’m looking for a few other places to get to, Churchill......oh yesss!
The remembrance bench is too close, the stones are said to be this, that and the other but no one knows from whence they came.
It’s still very early, there is no one out besides a determined jogger a squirrel and myself, and the jogger is gone, leaving the squirrel and me, it’s a funny word squirrel the more you say it the less meaning the word has.
A very slow stroll round the church later and still all is quiet so I sit on the aforementioned bench and lap up the peace and stillness.
Phil said the place looked like something out of Midsomer
murders, I kept my back to the church.

For reasons beyond my control I had to choose somewhere easy to get to and on a main road for this years summer solstice sojourn, definitely not Stonehenge, Avebury is too hard to park at, the weather dissuaded me from going to Castlerigg, Anglesey didn’t interest me somehow. So I decided on a trip to Oxfordshire, the mountain man in me just laughed and scoffed at my far too flat idea, Oxfordshire ? surely you jest.

But, it’s been a while since my last time, and I wanted to see how the stones are faring eleven years after their yellow paint attack, there’s also some other sites I’d like to see again, and some for the first time.
We got there with some time to spare, but the other people had all got here early, parking was now in a field next door to the King stone field, there was lots of cars, that’s never good.
Phil saw all the people and decided to stay in the car, I didn’t blame her, it was 4.30am, and there must have been 150 people at the Kings stone and the circle, not my ideal way to see some stones, scuse me.
I completely ignore the King stone and stroll down the lane to the Kings men, for a minute I wonder why they are all gathered here rather than at the stones, then I realise that the suns coming up in the wrong place, or rather my memory of the place has got turned round, like a compass that doesn’t know which way is north the stones have messed with my mind and the suns coming up in the wrong place. Oh well, who am I to argue with where the sun comes from.

There was a lot of people here, it wasn’t to my liking, I made my way to an empty corner and stood under a tree and took in the scene, there was much to take in. Many conflicting thoughts chased each other round my head, if there was something happening here on the summer solstice in prehistory, is this what it would be like, to see a stone circle being used is a strange thing, usually we hope for solitude and peace, but then you only get quiet stones. Today the stones were singing.

The first thing I did was check the stones for yellow paint, but it seems to have all gone, has it naturally weathered off, or did they clean it off?, with what? Either way it’s nice to see them back on top form
I stand behind the tallest stone, a natural magnet for solstice offerings. Then a god awful racket started blaring out, it was like a cross between a strangled cat, and ghost that’s getting busted, but it was, after all, only some bagpipes. The piper was now walking clockwise just inside the circle, towing behind him duckling like some other people, I could see on their faces that some took it all very seriously, whilst others obviously felt a bit silly. Then after two or three circuits they gathered in the middle and called out “blessings upon the land”, I couldn’t help giggling a bit. Of course I want the land to be blessed, but I can’t help feeling it’s all far too little far too late. Honestly, if you want to honour this land, get out as often as you can to as many different place as you can, climb high, walk far, delve deep, not walk round a stone circle a few times a year.
As if to make my point, as soon as the sun had risen, invisibly behind low cloud and thick trees, more than half of the other people left, is that it I thought, I wondered how far they had come, my house as the giant throws is 89 miles away.

I decided to leave the other hangers on and sloped off to the Whispering Knights. I prefer to have the stones to myself, but I’m warming to the idea of sharing them with folk who appreciate them as much as I do, though maybe not in the same way.
After the portal dolmen had further expanded my mind, I went back over to the circle and it was just then that the sun made an appearance round the trees between clouds, silently I bidded the luminary welcome to the day, then someone called out ” hello suuuuun” same thing I suppose, but only one of us looked daft.

Parking is almost non existent, I left Phil in the car with instructions that should someone want entry into the field beep the horn, i’ll come running, and move the car from in front of the gate. The fort is only a hundred yards from the road, and strangely for a hill fort, not on a hill, a nice level stroll through a field and you’re there.
Anyway, technically its a promontory fort. The two banks and ditches cut off the area above the river llyfni and are still very tall and deep, walking along the bottom of the ditch the top of the bank is at least fifteen feet above me. At the end of the ditch I climb up onto the first tall bank and walk half way along, from here I can see the Dinas Dinlle seaside fort.
Down into the next ditch and back along to the south end of the fort and there is a morass of fort material, and a possible southern entrance.
Now i’m in the fort proper, there is a large Coflein certified artificial mound. At the eastern extreme of the fort there are no defences, there isn’t much need, the ground falls sharply down to the aforementioned river. I go down to the river and sit on a knoll looking over the up and down of the fast flowing torrent.
Then I go back into the fort and out through the northern entrance, it’s a weird entrance, it just sort of bypasses the earthworks, almost making them unnecessary, perhaps they were after all, just for show.

A very good and interesting fort in a beautiful area with fabulous views.

A rather strange set of circumstances surround my visit with this stone, I was at home going through some of Cofleins blue dots and found a standing stone that I’d never heard of, it was not far from the road so I had a look on Google streetview, I could see it clear as day, it looks quite tall as well, taller than me. Coflein confidently ascribe it to the bronze age with a ritual or funerary purpose. How could that one pass us by completely unknown, i’ll get to it shortly.

And here we are, it’s just after tea time and the sun is getting low, far from setting, but low enough to shower us with that beautiful golden glow.
The lanes round here are thin, the stone is not on the map, so some competent map reading is required.
I parked in front of the gate that leads into the field, the stone is twenty yards distant. It stands atop a small slight slope, take away the trees and you’ve got good all round views. The stone is nearly 8 feet tall and appears to be a grey slate with green lichen growing upon it, my petrochemical analysis was then interrupted by the lady at the house next door to the field. She was put out by our ad hoc visit to the site and said she would have been pleased to have been asked, my meek face reserved specially for irate landowners and misdelivered mail slid seamlessly across my visage. Many sorry’s and “the face” quickly placated her and then she freely divulged some information about the stone, local knowledge according to Aston’s rules of archaeology is invariably wrong, yet right at the same time, we’ll see.
The stones not old she says, well, it is old but not very old.
Oh yes ? The Royal commission of ancient and historical monuments of Wales doesn’t agree, I offered.
She replied that it was put up to commemorate the Boer war, there’s maybe 7 others in the vicinity.
Really ? where are they can you point me in the direction of the nearest other.
She duly pointed, and we said goodbye. I took a few pictures and we left, we had a half hearted look for the stone she pointed us towards but couldn’t find it.
Perhaps this was why no one else had bothered with this stone, it’s only just over a hundred years old, but why do Coflein say Bronze age. I decided to go to a nearby hill fort, where we know were on firmer footing.

Later at home and back on the computer I looked into the matter, there are indeed other standing stones in the very close vicinity, four in a half mile long rectangle. So she was half right there.
Also on Cofleins site description of the stone we went to see, it says it was recorded on the 1st edition OS map of 1889, seeing as the Boer war wasn’t till ten years later, she was all wrong there. Also, a quick look at Boer war commemorative stones brings nothing like the stone we saw.
Was she just trying to stop people coming to see the stone by saying it wasn’t all that old, that’s my feeling, but why aren’t these stones better known.
Someone with more resources and time should look into it.

There is free parking for nigh on a dozen cars by the church, south of the fort, as parking spots go it’s a good one, on one side is Carn Fadryn itself and on the other is the rest of the Lleyn peninsula, for those who elect to stay in the car it at least has a good view.
On the other side of the church go up a lane that goes up to the covered reservoir, go through a gate turn right and follow the thin but well worn path, it goes all the way (baby) to the top.
Near the top we go through the southern entrance, the wall goes off to the right and round a corner and left it continues up hill towards the rocky summit. The childrens guide to climbing mountains expressly forbids any dallying with ancient remains, but insists that you proceed straight to the top with gusto and intrepidity. So, straining against the strong wind I’m led up a mountain by two thirteen year olds, one of whom has never been up a mountain, and the other has seen too many Bear Grylls.
I turn to photograph some of the huts and pounds that huddle out of the wind under the cliffs, from here I can see Mynydd Tir-y-Cwmwd, where we’ve just seen a very sorry dismantled dolmen, below me is the fort interior, coflein assures us that the entire place is covered in hut circles, but they’ve all gone from there, but not gone is a cairn, we’ll see that shortly though. There is also a cairn further up the rocks behind me closer to the top, so I return to following the kids, who have now somewhat disconcertingly, disappeared.
I catch up with them huddled behind some rocks, the wind is very strong, not cold, but strong. They have also inadvertently stopped right by the cairn, so I give it a good inspection whilst they sit and look on.
Right up at the top is the trig point, 371 meters high, doesn’t sound much does it, it’s not even once round the running track, but 1217 feet does sound a lot. Apparently if a hill is over a thousand feet its a mountain, perhaps explaining why we consider Wales to be very mountainous.
Up at the top, the ground seems not wholly natural, I found that was probably because there was once a Norman tower castle up here, nothing too big, just big enough to make the downtrodden locals feel oppressed.
From up at the top the view is teasingly not over expansive, behind Garn Boduan The Rivals struggle to be seen through the haze, and the whole of Snowdonia just isn’t there at all.
We start the walk along the great north wall, the night watch are long gone now, the dozens and dozens of huts and pounds are getting swallowed by high heather and much greenyness. I even stumble across the north entrance, it too is choked with undergrowth. But even better hidden than the entrance will be something I’ve not heard of before. If it’s not unique let me know, this is cofleins description..........A robbed and ruined cist or ancient burial vault, 2.4m by 1.2m, is overlain by the inner rampart of Carn Fadrun. It is suggested that the cist was originally covered by a cairn, of which a scatter of loose boulders remain. Such a monument would conventionally be ascribed to the Bronze Age...........
How on earth am I supposed to discern a cairn with a wall over it, a wall that fell centuries ago and has spread twenty yards in either direction, this one will stretch my stone finding skills to be sure. A needle in a haystack, and a haystack made of needles.
We continue to the end of the north wall to the north east corner of the fort, on another rocky outcrop. Ive already seen half a dozen contenders for being ex cists. But then I find what I thought to be hut circle attached to the inner side of the inner wall, but the interior of the hut is very small, this could be the cairn, the inner scoop of the cairn is chokka block full of plant growth, at the time, I was still unsure so we carried on. At the south east corner, I decided that that was it after all, maybe, probably.
I detour into the forts interior to see the big cairn, it has been added to by Joe public, massively. So much so that I wonder if its bronze age at all, the very lowest section looks to be it, even a couple of kerb stones?
Back to the kids and we finish off the mountaineering part of the day by returning to the path via a path of our own choosing, over and among massive rocks, short cliffs and small caves, quite dangerous, stick to the path.

A superb hill fort with loads to see, epic views, easy to get to, but, still not as good as Tre’r Cieri.

The first time I tried to come here we got hopelessly turned round coming from the wrong direction, I lost my way and about 85% of my grip on reality, gave up and went somewhere easier to find, ie; home.
Better equipped, we returned for another crack at the whip, another stroke of the goose, another push at the rod accentuater, another.... well, again.
From Llanbedrog head south on the A499, for those eagle eyed among us they may notice the pair of hill forts either side of the road, turn left after here at a brown sign saying Bolmynydd. Follow this single file lane, it turns 90 degrees right, then hairpins back on itself, follow this till you get to a small car park next to the Bolmynydd caravan and campsite. From the car park head up the lane with no end, you can get up there by car but there probably wont be anywhere to park, and it’s only a five minute walk. At the blue Peugeot, it’s on street view, keep going on the footpath and out onto the heath, when the footpath branches, go left for 10. 65 meters then strike out into the grasses, the big stone is there and visible in low undergrowth, from car to stone about 8 or 9 minutes.

We had another of Eric’s school mates with us today, Jack, clearly he had no idea about what a trip out into Wales is comprised of. Eric and me immediately laid into the brown ferns and the ready to strangle brambles, peeling back the undergrowth so as to reveal as much of the big stone as possible, Jack looked on bemused, I then realised that we hadn’t explained what we were about, I’d taken it for granted that this was normal and everyday, the look on Jacks face was priceless, clearly we were suffering from some kind of neurological impairment. It’s just a rock he suggests, I explain that it’s a stone, not a rock, I can tell this is not washing, so I explain further, but this takes us into territory that I often wrestle with myself, why, how, when and what does it all mean, if anything, any way it’s a stone, ok?

Coflein says the big stone is 3.58m by 1.42m and about 0.5m thick, and that it’s the capstone of a megalithic chamber, ‘thrown down’ c.1850, and possibly obscured subsequently. So they destroyed a dolmen and then tried to bury or hide the one big stone they couldn’t remove. The Bounders.
After revealing almost all the stone, some of it obstinately refused to come out of the ground, I photographed it and with not a small amount of.....something, I agreed with Jack and said it is just a stone, mainly, lets go and climb a mountain.
Everyone understands the worth of climbing a mountain, Jack certainly did, back on firm ground, Terra Normality.

After a most rewarding afternoon on the Lleyn I decided it was high time for round two with Penbryn Mawr, for an idea on how round one went refer to my field notes of December 2009.
Suffice to say, I didn’t find the stone last time, but after much snooping about on the portal and google earth, I knew exactly where it was, and I knew why there was so much confusion the first time.
The grid reference numbers given on this site page and the Penbryn Mawr page on Coflein are out by over five hundred metres. The actual grid reference is SH45355391. To also throw into the confusion, Cofleins description of the stone describes to a T the stone in the driveway of Penbryn Mawr house, but not the stone by the road on a hump at the grid ref given here.
So, the bronze age standing stone is by the road 530 meters (app) west of Penbryn Mawr farm house, however, for those of us blessed by a comprehension of the Welsh tongue a knock on the door at Penbryn mawr could be more rewarding than the actual standing stone itself. Read previous notes.

Parking in the layby next to The Manor House, Ravensheugh crags are the small range of cliffs opposite. Follow the yellow stone track with whatever company your keeping at the time up to the top, looking for a left hand grassed over track and footpath, the tops of the stones are visible from the track.
I can only imagine how Carl failed to find this delightful little four poster, there are no ferns up on the hill, so he must’ve been in the wrong place, did he go past the left turn, or not go far enough?

There is a trig point on the highest crag, but it’s not on the map, seeing as i’m only here for the stones it has no impact upon my visit.
The sky is big, blue and peppered with fluffy white clouds, the stones are small, four in number and peppered with cup marks, well, one of them is. Handily the cup marked stone sits in it’s own little pond so wetting the stone so as to better appreciate the cups was not a problem.
The big sky is accompanied by distant horizons, it’s a beautiful day and the views are long. I sat down in the circle with my back to a stone, there’s a couple of walkers over on the crags, but they don’t seem to be walking anywhere, perhaps they were coming here and are waiting for me too push off.
I love four posters , they’re just so intimate, the five of us sitting round an imaginary campfire, swapping ghost stories and lieing about our female conquests, you can tell a four poster anything they never doubt you.
I couldn’t see “The Wall” from here, but it has an almost tangible presence, it’s just over there a couple of miles to the south, the end of one world and the beginning of another. I’m going over there next to try and find another stone circle , but it looks like were running out of time so only a preliminary snoop around in preparation for the next time.

I’ve been desperately wanting to come here for years, It was a toss up between the Lleyn peninsula and Northumberland, seeing as this year has been labelled the year of the stone circle and because of Hafodygorswen I’ve taken on a bit of a quest for the four poster. So here we are, Phil the daughter and I, well, I parked in the little car park at Blakehopeburnheugh, same as Hob ten years ago.
The walk starts going up the toll road (£3) forest drive, but we take the first right turn and follow the track parallel to the river Rede. The track heads up hill slightly then branches into two, turn left. Then almost immediately right, up a grassed over track. Almost immediately again turn left, this left turn is a pretty vague path but is marked by a 3 kings sign. Steeper up hill now, with a slippy algae covered hand rail to steady ones self, or not.
Daughter Phil usually has the get up and go of the average 15 year old, but today she is really impressing me, no moaning at all, perhaps taking archaeology at collage has had an impact.

Up ahead there is a sun filled clearing and my spidey senses start to tingle, the stones must be just up there, and so they were.
Three bright stones shining in the sunshine, a smile challenges my calm demeanor, beats it over the head with a heavy stick, and takes over my face completely. I just love arriving at a difficult to get to high on the list site, I imagine it’s how Rory Mcilroy feels when the last ball goes down the hole and the championship is won, probably is.

Some armholes have had a campfire in the circle, I cleared as much of it away as I could, then we sat down on the fallen stone. Three kings? not four? obviously if you fall down you don’t count, at all.
Since Greywether and Hob came, the trees have really grown, tall and thick, all the view is gone, but I recently bought a big box of matches so it wont be long now. This little clearing is acting as a sun trap this morning, and with the stones mooning at me, this is a terrific place to be.
I’m on a bit of a quest concerning four posters, Hafodygorswen, in far off North Wales is in my opinion a bona fide northern fourposter, I was a bit concerned with it being associated with a cairn, but as i’m finding, four posters are more usually than not, associated with a cairn.
Whilst I was walking about photographing the stones, I saw a little brown vole scurry from one big tuft of grass to another, then two seconds later and one foot away a little green lizard, an out of place sand lizard, or just a green common lizard, either way, nice.
The information board, wasn’t expecting one of those up here, is a bit different than most, the left side is all very normal, saxon kings, bronze age, burial etc etc. But the right hand side has three poems all by local school children one of which I would like to perform for you now........

Tall stones standing spotted, grey, looking out
across the trees.
Lonely peaceful in the clearing.
Your lichen patterns change colour in the shadows.
Ancient people left you here guarding the grave of their loved one.
Only the buzzing of the bees and the song of the birds can be heard.
And the smell of the fresh green grass stays with you forever.

Nicola Collingwood

Apart from the smelling bit I’m totally on board.

I first came here thirty odd years ago on a school trip to what we called the Menai centre, all week I’d spied the curious stones outside the art room window, so I made sure I took a closer look before we left, needless to say I went on my own. I didn’t appreciate all it’s complexities, uses, age and so on, back then, and soon forgot all about it. But when I saw it again much later I 
knew Id been there before and know now that it is possibly the first ancient place I ever went to.
The second time I came here I bought a family ticket to the gardens only, this allowed me access to not only Plas Newydd burial chamber but also Bryn yr Hen Bobl burial chamber, well..... I say access, but that’s not strictly true.
Last Sunday, with sunshine being all the rage right now, my daughter and I went for my third meet and greet with Plas Newydd burial chamber.
We drove strait into the large car park and parked as far from the road as we could, from here the top of the biggest dolmen can be seen, just.
From the car park you can either jump brazenly over the fence and leg it down to the chambers before they drag you away kicking and screaming, oops, wrong place and time. Or you can walk nonchalantly over to the gate that leads to where you want to go, find it locked and have to climb over anyway, then continue with extreme nonchalance down to the stones. Or walk back to the road, and go in the other entrance, then you can walk straight to it, no climbing no sneaking, nonchalance is the key, act entitled, that’s what they say.

The big dolmens capstone is a whopper, from a certain angle both capstones look to be part of a single bigger stone, broken in two for their present purpose. The ivy that has so choked the stones in the past are gone, Phil and me sit in the shade under the big stone and talk of silly things, like the negatives encountered whilst canoeing.
The stones are great, they take me back to Brittany, the land of big dolmens. But my attention is forever being dragged away, partly by the carpet of flowers under our feet, which philli is loathe to tread on, but mostly to the panoramic display across the Menai Straits, Snowdonia. I can pick out individual peaks of the Carneddau, Foel Grach, Yr Elen, Carnedd llewelyn and Dafydd, Pen Yr Ole Wen and down into the Ogwen valley. Further along is the massive bulk of Snowdon and near neighbours, further still Mynnydd Mawr the Nantle ridge and off in the far hazy distance are The Rivals.

A very good first site of the day, beauty and nostalgia, I must be getting old.

Coflein says this about the larger southern ring cairn.........
An oval penannular grassy ring bank measures overall 19.5m (N-S) by c.14m, open on the E where there is a gap 6m wide. The stony turfed-over bank has a maximum width of about 6m and an average height of c.0.5m. On the N part of the ring bank are set two small boulders, 2.5m apart, which appear to flank another gap though, in fact, the bank between them is only slightly lower than elsewhere. The interior is uneven.

and this about the smaller one.......
A slightly oval ring bank surrounding a sunken interior lies adjacent to a farm track.
The overall dimensions of the feature are 13m (N-S) by 12.2m, the interior 6.5m (N-S) by 6m. The crest of the stony turf-grown bank is 0.2m high above the exterior but 0.75m above the sunken interior. A small stony mound lies adjacent to the bank, on the NW.

Coflein also calls them possibles, but that they are bronze age funerary monuments.
Easier to find than I anticipated, though their not on any map but you’ll still need an OS map though.
They are wildly different in size, the larger one is like many other ring cairns I’ve seen but the smaller one is, well, its very small, and that sunken interior. There are stones poking out of the grass where the smaller one abuts the farm track, weather they are part of the cairn or part of the road I couldn’t say. This may be private property but I encountered no people and no barriers.

Parking was obtained on the B5121 to the north west of the cairn by the overgrown entrance to a footpath. But ignore the footpath and walk south down the road, then enter a field through the gate and walk across it, the cairn is in the next field. Its easy enough to get to with an OS map.

This is a good cairn, at least six feet high, made of white limestone like stones. Coflein says it has two trees growing on it, and there is a large boulder on it as well. Typically there are now more than two trees, and the boulder count has grown to three, though the other two are much smaller.

I was really impressed with this cairn, I was expecting it to be much flatter, and the biggest boulder must have taken some great effort to get it up there, effort taken by a tractor or something I presume.
En route back to the car I took a different route across a recently ploughed field, I found a stone that is too flat and smooth on one side and a stoneware jar, it is now on the kitchen window with some small Naffodils in it.

150 meters east are two ring cairns, to where I’m off to next.

With your shiny Ordnance survey map these two barrows should be very easy to find despite the densely packed trees, they are only ten yards from the side of the road and one of the barrows is helpfully massive, three meters high.

Coflein says........
The larger of a pair of barrows (see also Nprn306939), 23m NW-SE – 26m in diameter and 3.0m high, truncated by a modern field boundary on the SE.
Upon opening, in 1908, the mound revealed a central collection of calcined human and animal bones, a possibly secondary in-urned cremation and a further deposit of animal bones and sherds.
and,
the lesser of a pair of barrows (see also Nprn306938), greatly mutilated, 16-17m in diameter and c.1.0m high. A NW-SE trench has been driven through the mound.

I would only add, oh the trees, the god damn trees.

Coflein says....
A round barrow, 14m in diameter and 1.3m high, excavated 1899, producing a possibly disturbed cremation.
I will add just a few things. South east a few hundred yards is Coed Bron Fawr barrow, 3 meters high.
A couple hundred yards west is what looks like another barrow, but Coflein assures us it is a garden feature, nudge, nudge.
If not for the trees on the west side of the road the barrow would enjoy a good view if the Clwydian range.
Grassy mound in field.

I came across this place on the portal, and couldn’t quite believe that such a place could go entirely overlooked by us. So I remedied this immediately, give or take six months.
It’s no wonder we’d never heard of it , it’s not on any map, but, of course my mate Coflein knew all about it. this is what he said.....
Hut circle measuring 8m diameter internally defined by a 1.5m wide bank faced with orthostatic limestone slabs up to 1m high. There are two opposed entrances, on the E and W, each flanked by orthostats, on the N and S sides respectively.
A line of orthostats to the immediate NW of the circle runs NE-SW
At SH 80008092, to the NE of the above, is a small depression, possibly a second hut or pond but more likely a quarry hollow.

Two entrances? in a round house? not heard of that before, ever.

There is no where good to park. I’d Google street viewed the area so I knew I was there when I got there, but it didn’t help with parking, the small road only leads to three houses, all with Private property no parking signs. So I decided to be equally as helpful and took up half a passing place. It was at the top of the road and it’s not like there’s even enough traffic to warrant a passing place, so there you are.
Eric and me had been laid up all weekend with the mother of all colds and neither of us was back on top form. So we hobbled off, well overdressed for the weather in the direction of the trees that hide this little known wonder of Llandudno.
We were not on a footpath, and after we’d climbed over the wall I’m not at all sure if we were trespassing or not. Like it’s ever mattered to me.

There was a path on the other side of the wall, and parallel to it, sheltered by wind twisted Beech trees (I think) the effect was to simultaneously be afraid of and in awe of the woods. Such feelings are often evoked in these places.
Then, through the trees, I spied some stones, we headed for them despite not knowing if these were them, they were them.

Now I am here I am even more surprised that no ones been here before. This is much better than most of North Wales hut circles, this is more like Dartmoor.
Some of the bigger stones are at least a meter high, and it looks like it’s got two entrances, east and west, but not directly opposite each other, I dismissed it as missing stones, but Coflein says looks aint deceiving, two entrances. That could get drafty.

In the centre of the circle is a campfire spot, (probably right on top of the iron age hearth)often used it seems, but there’s not much litter so the midnight revellers at least clean up after them selves.
I saw the line of stones heading away north east, and I saw the hollow that is most probably a small quarry, but they’re gnats on a dinosaurs behind here, the hut circle is really very good.

From the large car park north west of Hound Tor, start off heading for the massive spread of rocks, but, keeping them on your left, head away from them, the cairn circle stones will appear soon.

The cist in the centre of the circle is three quarters still there, one long side slab has gone astray. What is left is a sofa shaped place to sit, so I sit watching the clouds, the people climbing on the Tor, and the odd walker who passes the stones and me by.
The stones of the circle are between a foot or two high, in places they are contiguous, reminding me of far off Moel Ty Uchaf. There is a well worn gap on the west side of the circle, it looks like an entrance, if it even had an entrance ?
The placement of the circle is terrific, Dartmoor’s high rocky Tors surround completely, it feels like the most quintessentially Dartmoor place I’ve yet seen on my handful of trips to this far off land.

Hound Tor is close by to the north east, it is by far the biggest of the rocky tors I’ve been to, that’s not many, but big it still is. The high rocks entice me over to climb them, but I resist and make do with a slow walk among them. Dartmoor has really grown on me today, ensuring another visit, but hopefully not such a long wait this time.

Oh, one more thing, the whole western side of the cairn circle has gone, leaving the ring open on one side, it’s........noticeable, but not a problem as the rest makes up for it.
Spendiddlydid.

If you were to rub your scalp with one hand whist with the other rubbing the stones of Bowerman’s nose, and ask any question, in your next dream the answer will be revealed, because the Bowerman knows.
That’s not true, I made that up.
The rock stack is to me not very anthropomorphic, I struggle to see a nose, but the hat is quite clear. So if there is no nose, perhaps the rock had oracular powers. Disprove it.
Parking is scant but available for a few, a pleasant ten minute walk takes us up to the Granite god.
He is tall, perhaps he has a precise height, maybe not, he sits on the edge of a small platform at the bottom of an unnamed rocky Tor above Hayne down.
From up on top of the rocks you can see all the way to Hound Tor and the approximate location of the cairn with cist circle.
This is a very good place to get away from it all, but on a nice day like today, and presumably other days too, there will be other people, not many, but some.

It’s now 2015 and there is still no access to Vixen Tor. It can of course be seen from the public access side of the wall, the cist too. But that was never going to be enough for me, the wall is easily got over, and with the land owners house far on the other side of the Tor we encountered no problems.
We scrambled around on the rocks for a bit, as young people do, then we plodded over to the cist and the nearby standing stone. This bit didn’t really interest the kids so they made their way back to the car whilst I studied the cist. I’m not too convinced about the standing stone, surely it would be marked on the map. But the cist is a nice little thing, full of and partially covered with earth it looks like it’s never been excavated. The capstone is in two pieces.
A very successful sneak.
No problem.

It was never going to be a blue sky with fluffy white clouds sort of day, there wasn’t going to be 360 degrees of grand sweeping vistas, but, on the drive over there were patches of blue sky, so we crossed our fingers and made our way through the mountains. As luck would have it, and it usually does, upon automobile disembarkation in Beddgelert, the mountain, Moel Hebog, was almost completely hidden among the clouds. But, brave and hardy souls that we are, we carried on regardless. Over the river, over the railway tracks, and off up the hillside, it didn’t take long to get into the clouds, and once in them, we stayed in them.
As you get higher the path crosses rocky outcrops rusty in colour and full of rock balls, like cricket ball sized tektites. I thought of taking one home with me, but when climbing a big mountain the last thing you want is rocks in your pockets.

The path was easy enough to follow, but even so, when a well waterproofed walker passed us coming down I had to ask him if it was far to the top, 15 minutes he said, them turn left, or something like that. He was wrong, perhaps it took him 15 minutes to get down, but it took us longer than that. Or perhaps we’re just old and knackered.
After a certain amount of time it feels like the top is approaching, there is grass once more underfoot, long drifts of snow persist out of the suns sight. The rest of the world still remains out of sight, it’s out there somewhere, one presumes.
When the wind picks up, it really picks up, it’s hard to stand still and even through so many layers I can still feel the cold in the wind. It isn’t and hasn’t rained the whole time but the wind ravaging around in the clouds hurls the mist at you at many hundred miles per hour, threatening to penetrate even the so called waterproofed outer layer.

Throw your arms aloft and shout victoriously into the void, for we have arrived at the top. There are what looks like over half a dozen cairns on the wide short haired mountain top. Coflein says four or five are part of the bronze age cemetery, the rest are walkers cairns. The only definite cairn is the big one under the trig point, half of the cairn abuts against a massive drift of scree, that side of the cairn is far too windy for me, but thesweetcheat braves it for a minute or two. My side of the cairn, the north side seems to have some kerbing still in tact, it could be a fortuitous later arrangement, but I’m willing to look on the bright side, even on a day like today.
After huddling on the wind free side of the wall to consume much needed butties, I set about the mountain top with my camera. Usually, on a good day on the mountain I could easily take four hundred photos, but today I’m barely up to fifty, and half of them are a tad blurry. We’ve taken on the mountain and the weather and come out on top, but barely. After no more than half an hour we follow the wall back down towards Meol yr Ogof, on that good day, we’d have scaled that mountain too but the harsh wind and swirling mists have gotten the better of us. We could have stayed and appreciated the otherworldliness a bit more I guess, but I’ve seen otherworldly enough for today and there are places we could go to after getting back to the car, like Llangernyw Yew tree, the oldest living thing in Wales.
En route back down we came across a strangely magical place, we called it the valley of big rocks, it doesn’t do it much justice, but it is what it says it is. Giant house sized rocks with there own little ecosystems on top, one balances precariously on the edge of a cliff, it was just on the edge of the clouds and visibility was beginning to return. We decided it should be marked on the map, but as it wasn’t and seeing as the place seemed to have a magical quality we deemed the place as to not occupying a real place in our universe but was actually and decidedly other worldy.
And then we were down, the car park was free.

Quick, no ones looking, grab your boots, map and camera and go go go. I don’t think any one saw me leave, just a few stones and then back home.
I parked at the end of the road as if going to Hafodty stone circle, it’s the next road over from the old church. It’s windy and the clouds obscure the mountain tops, there’s a 17.8 % chance of rain. Probably.
From the car, go through the gate and pass by the large sheep pens and follow the path up hill west nor west. From here I was spiritually guided/guessed my way over to the stones, I saw some stones, decided that would be them and they were. Ideal.
The big cairn with opened interior was the first thing I saw, some larger standing stones forming part of an inner kerb or many stoned cist.
Maybe ten yards from that cairn is the kerb cairn. Some kerbing has gone or been buried by earth and gorse, but enough remain to describe the circularity of the monument. The large oval capstone still sits by the area it covered, the cist is full of earth and grass covered, clearly it was opened a long time ago.
The ring cairn is not immediately obvious, my memory of what Coflein says about its whereabouts is as ever, shady, to say the least.
So I go for a walkabout, or a blownabout, looking back, down at the two cairns from slightly above and I can see it. It was right there next to the first cairn, in fact that first cairn is built right into the western bank of the ring cairn. The ring cairn has a good eastern side with, Coflein says, 18 stones. From above fifty yards away I can really appreciate what it is we have here. It’s a three in one. Why so close to each other, nay, on top of each other. Most curious.
Three sites in a row, and this is the first of the three, I’m off to find a cist now, then another ring cairn, what a fantastic place.
From Waen Gyrach I can see Red Farm stone circle, Maen Crwn standing stone and I can see where Circle 275 and the Druids circle are, Fabulous.

This cist is easy to find, park at the end of the road where you would for the Hafodty standing stone and stone circle. Walk along the footpath like your going to the stone circle, when the standing stone appears in its field off to your right, turn left into a wide shallow gully, the cist is by the southern side of the gully right below the slope. A medieval settlement is at the far end of the gully if you find that you’ve gone too far, go back.

How many times have I passed by these places not knowing of their existence, and how many more are there?
There is no trace of any surrounding cairn, the stones of the cist are broken, leaning and fallen but enough remains to be sure of what your looking at, the capstone is gone.
Not much in the way of views either, due to it’s position, so I sit in the cist and ponder it’s positioning, of course, from the outside, I’m sitting on a rock and staring gormlessly about, no mate I’m pondering.

It is just a ten minute walk, if that, from the Hafodty stone circle. From the stone circle walk north east following the footpath, take the next left turn and follow that one to llyn Y Wrach, the Lake of the Witch. When the lake ends look up and right, in a hollow on the hillside is this easy to miss ring cairn. I say easy to miss, it’s not, but Coflein do have the grid reference off a bit.

The last of this afternoons trio of unknown but surely should be known sites, the threatening clouds have long gone, the sun is going down behind Foel Lus or an immediate neighbour, I’ve only just found it in time before it goes dark. Cofleins error in pin pointing the site have cost me dearly, I failed completely to find it first time back in December, and now it seems I’m not going to find this time either, only a gorse covered bank with one stone is all I’ve found, I don’t think that is it. I’m about to give up for a second time when I spot some stones on the hill side above the path that goes by the Llyn. I thought that was the house platform that the map says is up there somewhere. I decide that it’s not far up to it so I scamper up the slope, for the view more than any expectancy that they are the ring cairn. But, I’m amazed to find that the few stones I could see from below turn out to be the ring cairn, and it’s a good one. Gobsmacked, infuriated, giddy with the moment of discovery and utterly knackered I sit up hill of the ring and take in it’s full form.

The ring cairn is best appreciated at its south west side where the stones stand proud of the ground and there is an obvious gap for an entrance. The stones on the east side have possibly been buried by the slow slide of soil from the hillside right next to the ring of stones. It is in a somewhat strange place, perched above the valley floor in a hollow but below a rocky outcrop and more hills, it sits in a small amphitheatre which in turn sits in a bigger one. It’s all very curious.
More curious is the layout of the stones, the ring has a double skin of large stones laid on edge, with cairn material filling the void between inner and outer ring of stones, a bit like Carnedd Y season less than five miles south west. But much more like the Blaewearie ring cairn far away in Northumberland.
But I’ve spent too long looking in the wrong place and now the sun has definitely gone down and darkness encroaches, it is sadly time to run round like an idiot trying to get pictures in the half dark. On my way back I climb up the hill opposite the ring and looking down I wonder why I didn’t cotton on to the sites true location earlier. I’ve stood here before and looked upon it, but without, “the knowledge” it’s just another nice North Walean view.
By the time I reach the car it is pretty dark, but looking to the mountains their vale of low cloud has drifted away and revealed a smattering of snow on the higher peaks, the snow does not come below Drum.
Did you know....... That Snowdonia at night is completely free of cloud and it never rains, saving it for our daytime. Probably.