This looks like a relatively easy place to get to if you know what you’re doing. We didn’t. We figured that it must be close to the river, according to the OS map, but, having parked up and set off down the track towards the water it soon became evident that there was no real pathway to follow and the conifers here were very dense and fallen trunks were covered in thick, luxurious moss giving the whole place a look like a children’s illustration of primeval forest. A fleeting glimpse of a stegosaurus wouldn’t have surprised me.
Fighting our way out, chased by a velociraptor, we headed back to the van only to discover a discreet footpath just behind it. Duhhh! At the end of it was a sunny woodland clearing with a lovely standing stone, almost 2m in height, surrounded by a rough circle of about 8 or 9 smaller stones. There may have been more but the grass was quite thick and dense. Having looked at my copy of Burl I now know there were and that this is quite a complex little site comprising more than one oval ring, stone alignments and a possible cairn, a bit like a poor relative to the nearby mind-blowing Beaghmore site. I also realise now that it’s referred to as ‘Davagh Lower’ (Eds - you may want to revise my naming?), which means presumably that there’s a Davagh Upper (or what I’ve named Davagh Forest).
Slightly to the north of the standing stone is what I took to be a ruined cairn, but again this seems to be in dispute as it could just be a ruined stone hut. Whatever it might be, it’s still a very peaceful tranquil spot and well worth a visit.
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Despite some promising low spring sunshine when we set off, by the time we’d walked along Vize Lane from Broad Hinton, thick cloud had largely set in. The only thing that gives a hint of the site when viewed from a distance is the re-erected stone at the crossroad.
Only when you’re almost on top of them are you aware of the six recumbent stones in the field to your left. However, with the vegetation being still mostly leafless in this prolonged winter weather, if you look in the hedgerow to your right you’ll notice a pile of substantial sarsens that have been cleared from the surrounding fields. Now this begs the question of whether they’re (a) from the ruined circle to your south, (b) from a nearby barrow to the north-east (ploughed out, but visible on Google Maps) or (c) simply cleared natural stones from surrounding fields? As they’re easily as big as the stones within the incomplete circle, it makes you wonder why the circle wasn’t completely cleared at some point, as cultivation has been going on there for a very long time judging by the evidence of faint strip lynchets. Of course if this isn’t the ruined stone circle, as has been suggested, and that it was originally the other side of the Clyffe Pypard road, then it hardly matters at all about the provenance of the hedgerow stones!
Also worth having a good look at is the whopper of an outlier to the south-east of the circle. This stone is about the same size as the re-erected crossroads stone, but infinitely more interesting in shape. Shame they couldn’t have re-erected this one also or maybe they were worried about accidentally crushing the Alpacas that currently occupy the field.
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Much like Lord’s Piece a few miles further west this is one of those strange little heathlands that doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the Sussex landscape, more New Forest with gorse, heather and pines, than rolling open downland. There were once probably large tracts of land similar to this dotted all along the bottom of the escarpment north of the South Downs, but gradually with the expansion of villages and agricultural clearance these spaces are now surrounded by the houses of the well-to-do, oblivious of what’s really on their doorstep.
Sullington Warren is not big by any means, probably less than a ¼ of a square mile, but the minute you enter it you have the feeling that it’s an ancient landscape. There are nine, possibly ten barrows in the vicinity, but it’s really quite difficult to make any of them out as they’re all hopelessly overgrown. There is one linear group of three, which is reasonably easy to see, and the rest are scattered randomly. Also you can’t quite work out whether they’re small barrows on top of ‘small hills’ or if the ‘small hills’ are in fact huge barrows! Intriguing. The other thing of note is a small cross dyke/boundary marker which runs roughly east-west and stands out quite well, but having looked at the site on Magic this isn’t shown so could actually be relatively modern.
A word of warning! There is a car parking space in Water Lane to the east of the site, but I made the mistake of parking in Heather Lane, which apparently is private and there was a snidey little note on my windscreen when I got back saying that my number plate had been noted by the local Neighbourhood Watch. Goodness, I’m quaking! Otherwise a nice place to wander.
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East Hill dominates the Eastern side of Old Town Hastings and you are struck immediately by it’s impregnability as you walk beneath the sandstone cliffs to the south or climb the steep steps on it’s western flank. Though we were here for a day trip and hadn’t come prepared with maps or ideas of a long stroll along the cliff tops it was evident once we were up there that this hill had history. There are perceptible undulations here and there across the turf indicating possible cross dykes or cultivation strips, but these are over-run with flattened areas suggesting more recent use as a putting green. Towards the crest of the hill is a broadly rectangular enclosure that I wasn’t entirely sure about as it’s now devoted to barbecuing, but it’s in the right place and has an air of ancientness about it. Walking on Eastwards across the hill you get magnificent views of golden limestone cliffs towering defiantly over a churning English Channel and just as you begin to dip downwards you come across the biggest piece of evidence so far in the form of a huge dyke running North to the other side of the hill. It’s largely overgrown and quite difficult to make out but it seems to be a whopper and suggests that this is indeed an Iron Age promontory fort.
Further research at home also revealed that the modern beacon you pass near the top of the steps stands on what was probably a large Bronze Age barrow. This was reused for burials in Saxon times possibly by the towns earliest Saxon arrivals who gave the town its name. West Hill, which stands across the valley from Old Town Hastings, also has prehistory and was also used to build one of the original Norman Castles following the conquest.
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I’m going to make a plea here for The South Downs Way to become a site in it’s own right on TMA much like The Ridgeway is. On New Years day Mrs Cane and I walked from the car park near Combe Hill enclosure along the final stretch of the SDW down to Beachy Head. Now I’ve walked this section before, but on that occasion it was dusk and though I realised there were barrows and cross dykes dotted along the escarpment overlooking Eastbourne, I didn’t quite appreciate just how many there were. In a low bright January sun you can pick out far more easily the sheer profusion of Bronze Age handiwork in the landscape as the walk progresses. I’ve divided the barrows up according to their most local names, as there is no overall place name for this area, unless you name it the ‘Eastbourne Escarpment’, or indeed, ‘The South Downs Way’. So starting in the north just south of The Combe Hill Neolithic enclosure we have Babylon Down, Bourne Hill, Foxholes Brow, Foxholes, Beachy Brow, Eastbourne Downs Golf Club (rubbish name I admit!) and Pashley. Indeed this is a regular barrow cemetery stretching about 4 miles with quite a variation in barrow type from quite large bowl barrows, disc barrows and even conjoined examples down to the barely visible ‘trampled into the track’ type. Three to four thousand years ago they must have presented quite a spectacle if you were looking up from the flood plain below at this great range of hills as it wound its way down to the sea to come to an abrupt end at Beachy Head. It’s interesting too, to speculate as to why there are so many here anyway. Perhaps because it’s a terminus to the South Downs and possibly a trading point for goods coming in and out of the country and therefore of quite high importance and with a large population? Maybe because water was sacred to our ancestors and the area beneath the escarpment was flooded for a great deal of the time? Or perhaps they were just setting a precedent, as Eastbourne in relatively modern times has been a place to retire to and die!
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I'm always amazed when I find something of considerable size near my own neck of the woods that hasn't been visited before. Given that it's horribly overgrown and at least half of it is inaccessible (unless you're a paying visitor to Arundel Castle) maybe it's not so surprising. The part you can access on the western side of the A284 can be reached by parking at the cafe carpark where all the local bikers meet at the weekend just off the roundabout and then walking south west along the A29 till you come to a footpath which brings you up into Rewell Wood. There are actually two quite substantial parallel dykes here with a ditch between them and they run for about 1/4 of a mile on this side and about 1/2 mile on the Arundel Estate side. Whether this was simply a boundary marker or some sort of defensive earthwork is hard to ascertain, but I think the latter due to it's size and the fact that the high ground of Rewell Wood is littered with former settlements. A recent dig by Worthing Archaeological Society at Goblestubbs Copse 1 1/2 miles south west discovered remains of late Iron Age settlements in the relatively untouched woodlands. Anyway, worth visiting if you like thrashing about in the undergrowth like a mad person.
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On my way to Twigworth in Gloucestershire to pick up an exhibition I decided that I probably just had time to make a flying visit to Belas Knap, a place that had stuck in my mind since a childhood visit many, many years ago. This really seemed to be quite a remote and difficult site to find, but eventually it found me and I scrambled the fifteen minute walk to the top of the hill. I had the place all to myself for some time and it all came back to me in the serenity, tidiness and beauty of this enigmatic barrow.
After wondering about for around twenty minutes I realised that someone else had arrived there and we exchanged nods. A few minutes later he stopped and asked me if I could take his picture next to the barrow using his iPhone and we fell into conversation. It transpired that he was from Tasmania visiting family and had lived nearby as a boy and had emigrated at the age of 12. He said that he’d forgotten just how much this place had meant to him and how these ancient places got under your skin. “We don’t have these same layers of history as you guys do back here and I really miss it”. That was about the age that I’d been on my last visit there also and though I’ve never lived outside the UK I think I understood what he meant.
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You only have to glance at an OS map to know that the triangle of Dorset between Dorchester, Bridport and Portland is one of the richest and most interesting prehistoric areas of England. Better still is driving along the A35 on a bright day after leaving the colossus of Maiden Castle and heading towards Winterbourne Abbas and that amazing view of the rolling hills and cliffs and the sea to your south. It’s so uplifting it makes you want to sell up and move down there – now!
Today, however, it’s not bright and we’re heading east after a few days of walking and fossil hunting in Lyme Regis and we seem to be keeping just ahead of a huge rainstorm heading in from the south west. So it seemed a good time to stop off at the Grey Mare just before the impending deluge. It’s not a terribly easy one to find and seemed to be further from where we parked than we’d imagined, infact so much so that Mrs Cane gave up and headed back to the car before she could hear my triumphant exclamations as I climbed over a gate into the field where it stood.
Despite it’s relative remoteness it’s a charming piece of work and has the feel of a diminutive WKLB or Wayland’s Smithy with it’s big stone façade and has a very different look to The Hellstone which is a not too distant neighbour. The back of it appears to have been a largely stone construction as there are very large flanking stones visible in various places which you don’t often see at long barrows unless they’ve been seriously denuded of their earth covering. It’s also very well sited as there are tremendous views over the Dorset countryside and, if I’m remembering rightly, a view of Chesil Beach and Portland Bill to the south east. Having stretched my “just 10 minutes” into half an hour I made my way back across the fields vowing that I must return for a long weekend to this regional treasure trove.
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This one was a bit of a happy accident as I had no idea it was here. We'd set off for a Sunday afternoon walk with my brother-in-law's family to the Tyndale Monument (the Nibley Knob as it's known locally) which was erected in 1866 to the memory of William Tyndale, a local man from North Nibley, who'd had the bare faced cheek to translate the bible from Latin to English and was strangled and burned for his trouble in France!
Making our way along the escarpment from Wooton-under-Edge through dense woodland I was suddenly aware that we were walking along the edge of some massive banks and ditches and I asked if it was what I thought it was and was given an affirmative. As we traversed the edge it became clear that it was quite a good size and a typical Iron Age bivallate promontory fort, not quite as impressive as it’s nearby neighbour at Uley Bury and certainly a lot more overgrown with vegetation, but there had been obvious attempts to clear some of this from the outer ditches. On the South Western edge there was an entrance way, but it was difficult to know whether this was original as it looked a bit too new and there were bits of limestone building material visible under tree roots. Possibly it had recently been enlarged to enable the gradual clearance of the interior. However, at the moment the interior is still quite choked and almost impenetrable. It would definitely be worth a revisit during the late autumn when the foliage has thinned as the views over the surrounding area to the South and as far as Bristol are just stunning.
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Lord’s Piece is a strange little triangle of heathland just south of the River Rother near Fittleworth. As somebody else aptly put it, “it’s like a little bit of the New Forest placed in the heart of West Sussex”. Where the name derives from I’ve no idea, but within the few acres of this conservation area are at least five barrows made up of a linear group of three and a pair (one large, one small) on a small ridge to the south. Also visible are a number of boundary markers criss-crossing the land which I at first thought were contemporary with the barrows until I came to the middle barrow of the linear group and discovered a ‘boundary marker’ passing right through the centre of the barrow, which seems unlikely to have been the barrow builder’s original intention. The linear group are all roughly the same size, about 10-12m across but not very high at about 2m max and they’ve all recently been cleared of vegetation and are now adorned with giant wire ‘hair nets’ (or at least that’s what it looked like from a distance) which I guess keeps the local rabbits and badgers at bay. The two barrows on the ridge are interesting because of the disparity in size, the larger being about 10m across and 2.5m high whereas the smaller barrow about 30m distant is only about 4m across and barely rises more than 0.5m. The larger barrow also has a curious hole at its northern edge almost suggesting that this was the source of its material, though it’s so messy no Bronze Age barrow builder worth his salt would ever admit to this below par workmanship! It’s probably more modern than that, possibly a dried up drinking hole for cattle. Parking is very easy as there are two small carparking areas on the western side of the heath.
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We probably picked the wrong day to visit here as it was damned cold and quite overcast but the thought of possibly finding a cemetery of up to twenty barrows tucked away in the wilderness of mid-Sussex proved too much of a temptation. Parking is relatively easy as there's a conveniently placed carpark just off the A272 between Midhurst and Petersfield and was very popular with the local dogowners the day we were there, just a shame they couldn't be bothered to pick up after them. I always tend to think of Sussex as being quite highly populated, and I guess the bit I live in on the coast is, but inland you'll find large tracts of land with barely any sign of habitation much like this. Here there seem to be endless glorious vistas of open heather with the occasional birch tree, small patches of conifer and the blue-hued hills of the South Downs on the distant horizon. It's probably looked like this for centuries, possibly millennia. The first barrows you come to after leaving the carpark are a very small pair, possibly conjoined and only just discernible as they're covered in heather, so it's almost impossible to gauge just how big they are, or were. Travelling further South you come around a small pond and follow a track to a linear arrangement of five larger barrows which are part of Fitzhall Heath. The tallest of these is about 30-40 feet across and around 10 feet high, again heather covered and at some time in the past severely mauled, and from here you can see two other large barrows, one of which has been cleared of heather. On top of this we found the tattered remains of a sign politely asking the public to refrain from walking on the barrows and to use the cleared pathways around them. Whoops, sorry. Passing through the middle of all this apparently is a Roman road as well, though I couldn't really work out where it was supposed to be, only surmising that it started in Chichester to the South. We only managed to seek out seven barrows on this visit, but given the size of the common it would take a good day to tramp around the whole area where I know there are at least another eight marked on the OS map. We'll return when it's warmed up a tad.
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I've been meaning to visit Coldrum for what seems like an eternity. It would pop into my head as I was lurching around the M25 after a hard days slog in London, but usually I'd find myself too tired, the light would be fading or the weather not quite right. So despite the on/off rain showers Mrs. C and I decided to try a visit on the way to friends in North Kent and as it turned out it couldn't have been much better. I was a bit surprised once we'd located it that it wasn't perched on the edge of the North Downs, which is how I'd always pictured it, but nestling in the valley below on a small raised platform of a hill. The views from here, however, are quite wonderful as your gaze tumbles along the bottom of the downs and across the surrounding fields and I doubt whether that view will have changed very much in the past 5000 years considering its isolation. Somebody else who turned up while we were there informed us that most of the surrounding land is to become a vineyard in the near future and I wondered how that might impact on the site.
As we were there as the sun was going down everything seemed to have that warm glow about it and the light gave the stones that extra strength and definition so reminiscent of childhood evenings in Wiltshire when we'd drive out to places like West Kennet and Avebury and the stance of the site is not unlike the Wiltshire sites also. The only detraction was that some imbecile had written the word 'DEVIL' on one of the burial chamber stones in charcoal but it must have been a while ago and it had faded and would probably disappear with the next good rain fall. The other thing that was interesting and which has been noted here before is the strange blueness of the stones once they're in shadow. I couldn't work out if this was just due to the comparison between the lit and unlit stone or perhaps something to do with the lichens that cover them and how they interact with light?
So what a delight and a place that I'm itching to get back to, along with the nearby Chestnuts at Addington, which we didn't get to see on this occasion, but would be interesting to compare.
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This solitary barrow sits on the edge of a track which diverts from the South Downs Way at Springhead Hill leading South West towards Burpham and North Stoke. There are superb views across the rolling downland hills and on this particular day a spectacular sunburst above Arundel Castle (Camelot!)
I like the fact that this barrow has a name as so few round barrows do, although I suppose they all did to begin with, they just got lost in the mists of time. This one, I believe, is a Saxon name and might possibly be connected to the strange earthwork slightly South of it. This looks like a giant dew pond but apparently isn't. Possible explanations include a siege fort or animal enclosure. The latter would seem a more obvious choice as there are nearby field systems (celtic or medieval?) and it's deep in livestock grazing country.
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The Lewes Mounds
If you lived in a small town in East Sussex and there were three large Silbury-like mounds within close proximity of the town centre would you not be curious as to why? Well this is the case for Lewes, the county town of East Sussex.
The most prominent mound is the one currently occupied by Lewes Castle and is designated as a Norman Motte dating from 1069 and built by William de Warenne, brother-in-Law of William the Conqueror. This stands broadly in the town centre overlooking all of its surroundings and the motte itself must stand at about 50 feet in height.
The second, known as Brack Mount, is also designated as a Norman Motte and was contained originally within the curtain wall of Lewes Castle and Lewes Castle is one of only Two Norman castles in the UK to have two mottes, the other being Lincoln. It is believed that Brack Mount was the original castle with a wooden barbican and that the superior stone barbican that we see today at Lewes Castle took some 300 years to complete. Brack Mount is about 40-50 feet high depending on where you're viewing it from and is built on a slope slightly North East of the castle and is now completely surrounded by houses and a pub, the Lewes Arms, that back onto it. There have been 2 partial excavations of this site, the first being in 1838 when workmen discovered an inhumation and boars head in the north side of the mound and the second, more recently, found a chalk lined well in the top of the mound believed to be Norman in origin. Despite the fact that the garden of the Lewes Arms cuts into the mound there seems to be no evidence of any finds on that occasion or at least no report of anything of interest, though there have been recent assertions that the mound is pre-Roman in origin.
Now we come to the third mound, or the 'Tump' as it's known locally, whose history is far from clear. It stands almost in isolation just South of the railway line that skirts the South of the town and is adjacent to the ruins of Lewes Priory. It too is about 45 feet high and takes the form of a ziggerat. Various explanations have been put forward to try and explain its origins. One is that it's a Calvary built by the priory monks and was part of a punishment whereby misbehaving monks were made to carry a cross to it's summit (there was until recently a socket still visible there for a cross erecting ceremony carried out by local Christians at Easter). Another theory is that it's simply a large pile of earth left over from either the building of the Priory on it's western side or from the 'Dripping Pan', a large salt pan (though the salt pan too is doubtful) on it's eastern side now occupied by Lewes Football Club. As far as I know there has never been anything like a proper excavation of this site. The only nearby find was of a ground Neolithic hand axe which was discovered when railway abutments were created in 1911 just to the north.
So three large mounds and little archaeological evidence to work out just how old they are. But is it just three? Evidence suggests that there were at least another five tumuli within the vicinity. A Historic Character Assessment Report for Lewes carried out in 2005 reveals that there were another four tumuli in almost a linear arrangement running north east from Brack Mount. The report lists them as follows:
• Churchyard of St John-sub-Castro – two mounds, possibly representing Romano-British or Anglo-Saxon, or earlier, barrows. That destroyed by the building of present church in 1839 contained secondary inhumations, cremated human bone, boar and other animal bones, and an urn and spearhead. The second mound was in the south-east corner of the churchyard, and was destroyed in 1779 with no record of any finds. Several Roman coins were also found in the churchyard in the 19th century [HER reference: ES7176].
• Abinger House (Abinger Place) – mound, possibly representing Romano-British or Anglo- Saxon, or earlier, barrow. Destroyed in the early 19th century without record, though apparently contained internments and pottery.
• Elephant and Castle (Whitehill) – mound, possibly representing Romano-British or Anglo- Saxon, or earlier (e.g. Bronze Age) barrow, and possibly used as a medieval and later gallows mound. Destroyed when Elephant and Castle public house was built in 1838.
A further barrow seems to have been destroyed in 1834 during the creation of a reservoir near St. Anne's Church where a Bronze Age inhumation and other cremation burials were discovered. This too lies within the town centre.
So are we looking at a large Bronze Age barrow cemetery, a sacred site of monumental mounds in the vein of Silbury (particularly in the light of the recent dating of the Marlborough Mound) or merely a disparate collection of barrows of different ages and usages? Because most of these barrows were destroyed in the gradual expansion of the town it's very difficult to know which era they actually belonged to but I'm of the opinion that all these tumuli were of roughly the same period, probably Bronze Age, and the Normans merely utilized two of them in the highest positions, in the construction of their castle. Nearby Neolithic, Bronze and Iron Age sites on the South Downs would also suggest that Lewes's mounds were of a pre-Roman era.
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Further, and more diligent map reading, made me realise that this is actually much longer than I thought. I'd assumed that it began/ended at The Valdoe but in reality the whole thing is much longer and extends, albeit brokenly, Westwards beyond Lavant all the way to West Stoke, just South of Kingley Vale. So this mysterious ditch/dyke is actually around six to seven miles in length and not the two miles I'd originally stated. Also the part I looked at this time is a dyke and not a ditch, as it was in The Valdoe with a height of around two metres in places. It would be interesting, but I'm not sure if it's possible, to walk it's entire length though some of it passes through private land and there are no footpaths available. At some points it seems to disappear altogether, most notably at Lavant, but that might be due to the build up of the village over the centuries and the section of road through East Lavant corresponds almost exactly with the 'presumed' course of the ditch. More visits will ensue no doubt.
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Brighstone Down encompasses quite a large area and also includes Gallibury Hump which sits just outside the forested area. The Tennyson Trail passes through the middle of it and it's quite accessible by foot from Brighstone village to the South or from the road connecting Brighstone and Calbourne. This area of Downland forms the spine of the Island running east to west and is quite rich in tumuli of varying sizes and states of decay. Of the barrows in the woodland we really only encountered about three and it was quite a surprise to find quite large barrows hidden in the depths of the forest. These were situated just off a track which runs up from the reservoir (bounded by the Tennyson and Worsley Trails) on the southern edge of the forest. The map indicates three barrows near the bend and I was anticipating Bell barrows. As far as I could tell there were only two quite handsome barrows at this position about 2m high and 5-6m wide, but strangely there was a large but quite faint circle comprising a shallow ditch surrounded by a small bank about 7-9m in diameter. This either had to be a small enclosure (there are others not far away) or a reasonably large disc barrow! This was quite difficult to make out properly due to the density of the undergrowth and poor light on an overcast day, but if it does turn out to be a disc barrow then it's possibly the only one on the island as far as I can tell. Having researched I can find no mention of this anywhere else. If anyone has any more information I'd be glad to hear it.
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This small gathering of barrows can be reached from the fantastic viewpoint of Limerstone Down, just off the Worsley Trail, about 30 minutes walk North East from the village of Brighstone. There are 4 barrows visible at the top of the Down, a further 2 about 100m west (though they may have been ploughed out as they weren't exactly obvious) and 2 large barrows at the end of the spine of the hill at Cheverton Farm. There are great views across the island in most directions but the barrows aren't exactly what you'd call 'awe inspiring' and the weather was also a bit flat the day we trudged through. Perhaps more intriguing are the strange earthworks around the viewpoint at Limerstone Down a few hundred metres South West though I can't find any information about them so I've no idea just how old they are.
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I have to concur with Carl on this one, it really was a trial to find. This was however confounded by a really thick mist that had been hanging around the peninsular for two days (in late July!) and I think if I hadn't had an OS map I might never have found it. Starting from the car park at Zennor I crossed the main road near the telephone box and took the footpath that runs along the bottom of the hill and I remember wondering at the time whether there were any snakes around? We'd already seen a number of very small lizards on the cliff path to Gurnards Head when just in time I stopped myself from stepping on an Adder at the side of the path! Usually when I've encountered them in the past they slither off as soon as they know they've been spotted, but this one stood its ground and even allowed me to get relatively close to take its portrait! Having jumped over it I carried on along the path when, blow me, I encountered another which, thankfully, disappeared into the undergrowth. Passing the farm buildings I then started to make my way up the hill towards the Logan Stone but having reached the top, encountering yet another adder, I found myself completely disorientated because I couldn't work out where the sun was due to the mist and wandered around for about half an hour becoming increasingly panicky. Then, just as I was about to despair and make my way back down, there was a very brief break in the mist across the moorland and I could just about discern what must surely be Zennor Quoit about 300m away. Rechecking the map as the mist rolled relentlessly back in I made a mad dash to get there and felt a huge relief as it came into view just the other side of a low stone wall through the ferns and gorse. My first reaction on coming up close to it was its sheer size, it had looked quite insubstantial from a distance, but this really is a whopper and quite beautifully constructed. I didn't realise the significance of the 5 pillars alongside it at the time so I was quite intrigued by them and also the tiny holes which appear all over the structure. I think the combination of it being hidden in the swirling mist and having had to really struggle to find it gave it a special kind of significance for me and it presented itself as a reward if you see what I mean. Well worth visiting but I would advise anyone attempting to find it in adverse weather conditions to have a map and a compass...... oh, and look out for snakes.
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Although this is listed as a dyke (why is there no other option?) it is in fact a ditch as the name suggests and not just a small thing but a ditch which extends over 2 miles, though a little broken in places. The coordinates start in the west in 'The Valdoe' a small wood about a mile below The Trundle but it eventually peters out near Halnaker on Boxgrove Common as it meanders along the bottom of the South Downs. What it's original purpose was nobody seems to be in agreement over and research has suggested that it was a defence against the Saxon invaders of the 5th Century but more commonly it is believed to have been built in the Iron Age and was either a boundary marker or again a quite sturdy piece of defence work. A lot of the middle section is difficult to get a look at as it's mostly on private land and people are rather fond of guns in this neck of the woods. Judging by the state of the section in the Valdoe it's also pretty silted up, but I'm hoping to have a look at the sections in the east some time soon.
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Cissbury Ring is one of my favourite walking places in West Sussex. Standing on the South Downs and within walking distance of my home town of Worthing it's an excellent place to wander and refresh yourself. Even in the depths of winter you'll find some hardy folk along with their canine companions walking the ring or brivetting about in the undergrowth. It's quiet seclusion also offers spectacular views in all directions covering the Downs, the sprawl of the south coast conurbation from Brighton to Bognor Regis and on a clear day you can even see the Seven Sisters to the east and the Isle of Wight to the west.
Hard to believe then that this was once one of the powerhouses of Neolithic industry in the UK. Though entered on TMA as an Iron Age hillfort it actually began it's fantastically varied life as a source of raw flint in the Neolithic era and the south western area of the hill bears testimony to this with it's hundreds of shallow, and sometimes enormous, pits. This 'moon-cratered' surface represents the backfilled shafts of flint mines dating back some 5000 years and although not visible today some of them were between 40-45 feet deep and gave onto galleries and chambers that sometimes connected to other shafts. Cissbury and the nearby Church Hill and, slightly further afield Harrow Hill and Blackpatch, were some of the primary sources of flint throughout the Neolithic period. Only the slightly later mines at Norfolk's Grimes Graves were any significant rival. The quality of the flint mined here was obviously very high as mining continued well into the Bronze Age and tools created from the flint have been found across Britain and mainland Europe. Between the four Sussex locations there were probably in excess of 400 shafts. Some of these were the subject of a number of archaeological digs between Victorian times and as recently as the 1970s. The earliest interest for the Cissbury site comes from 1849 when the Reverend Edward Turner, addressing the Sussex Archaeological Society, stated confidently that the hollows were formed for 'Druidical celebrations' but didn't specify what these might be! The first excavations were carried out in 1857 by George Irving, but he failed to get to the bottom of the pits both physically and metaphorically and interpreted them as 'animal pens' due to the finds he came across. In 1867 Colonel Augustus Lane Fox was the first person to suggest that the pits were associated with flint mining while investigating hillfort construction on the South Downs, but he too failed to fully excavate the mines to their actual bottoms. However, the discovery of shafts beneath the fort's ramparts made them realise that the shafts pre-dated the Iron Age and discovery of a polished axe within the ring and to the east of the pits firmly planted the shafts in the Neolithic era. Ernest Willet, who in 1868 had been looking at similar features to Lane Fox on nearby Church Hill, began working at Cissbury in 1873 and was the first person to get to the bottom of a shaft after digging down 4.2m through the back-fill in one of the earlier excavated pits where he discovered a series of chambers and galleries. Sadly his site notes from the dig were lost. More diggers came and went for the next 60 years but one of the more interesting figures to explore Cissbury was a local working class self-taught archaeologist named John Pull. He'd already achieved notoriety in the area following his discoveries at Blackpatch in the early 1920s and suffered at the disparaging hands of the Worthing Archaeology Society for his methods and site recording procedures. Most of this was down to pure snobbery on the Society's part and given the towns Conservative nature hardly surprising. He did however rejoin the Society in 1947, taking over as president in 1952 and started new works at Cissbury the same year which gave rise to the most comprehensive studies of the Cissbury mines ever undertaken. Sadly he was shot dead in a bank raid in 1960 while working as a security guard at the Durrington branch of Lloyds Bank. For further intriguing reading on the subject take a look at Miles Russell's fascinating book 'Flint mines in Neolithic Britain' (Tempus Books, 2000).
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I'm a professional photographer living in West Sussex and have been interested in ancient sites since childhood. I was brought up near Barbury Castle in Wiltshire so visits to hill forts, stone circles and various lumps and bumps were routine. The grip of these fantastic places still has a hold on me and I still get a feeling of total wellbeing whenever I come across a new place or revisit familiar places. Much of that is to do with the magnificent or interesting locations in which they're found and equally the mystery attached to them - we know so little and can imagine so much.
http://www.landtraces.com
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