I have been to the Isle of Mull and its little islet of Iona more times than I can recall. In November this year I took Colin for his first visit. My favourite site, however, despite the fame of Iona, remains the circle at Lochbuie.
For our summer holidays this year, Colin and I went to the northern isles – my second time to Orkney, our first time to Shetland. The World Heritage site of the Stones of Stenness, the Ring of Brodgar, Scara Brae and Maes Howe, which I had seen in May 2012, is always worth another visit! Plus we were able to visit Taversoe Tuick, Blackhammer, the Knowe of Yarso and Mid Howe on the Isle of Rousay, and a number of other smaller sites around the mainland, such as Barnhouse Village, Cuween Hill, Unstan, and Wideford Hill. Lots of photos of all these places on Flickr, as ever.
But coming here in the summer meant we were able to see the archaeological dig at the Ness of Brodgar underway – an amazing experience 🙂
We also drove down across the causeways that join the little islands to the south to visit the Tomb of the Eagles. A fuller description of some of these sites is in the May 2012 blog.
Shetland is quite a different place altogether. Because of the huge oil terminal the roads are probably the best of all the roads on all the Scottish isles – bar none – and better than many of the roads on the mainland! There are lots of interesting little megalithic places to visit, too, including the Stanydale Temple, and a number of single and pairs of standing stones. There is also, on the south coast, the extraordinary settlement of Jarlshof, and on the tiny island of Mousa, the best preserved Iron Age Broch in all of Scotland. Here are some of the photos – more as ever on Flickr.
Best of all was a fabulous first anniversary dinner overlooking Lerwick harbour.
Today, after a lie in, we went for a walk at Burn o’Vat – a huge meltwater kettle hole left over from the glacial times that shaped most of the landscape in Scotland. Here we found that it wasn’t just a hole you could look into, but one you could walk into and examine from its bottom – very impressive!
From there we took a walk around Lock Kinold – 4.25miles in total – past delightful little coves of water lillies and bullrushes, overlooking ancient lake villages, in the shadow of more recent Celtic Cross stones. A really lovely walk indeed.
Lastly, on what was turning out to be a quiet day after Monday and Tuesday’s excursions, we paid a visit to the nearby Balronald Wood, where there is a recumbent stone circle with a (later) central cairn. This site is completely overgrown and uncared for, but clearly still visited by those who have respect for it.
Click on any picture in these blog posts to see all the photos in the Aberdeenshire set on Flickr
Today’s excursion was simpler and more scenic. We headed first due east to Crathes Castle. This was the seat of the Burnett family from 1323, when Robert the Bruce gave them lands. According to one information sheet at the Castle, (though reported as ‘disputed’ on the web, e.g. Scotweb, who suggest they may have been French) the Burnetts were originally Anglo-Saxon nobles from Bedfordshire, displaced by William the Conqueror, and two branches of the family exiled themselves to Scotland, one branch ending up in Aberdeenshire. The Castle here now was built by Alexander Burnett in 1596, and its contents largely destroyed by a fire in 1966, at which point the then Laird gave the place to the National Trust for Scotland, who have restored it well, and filled it with lots of historical nik-naks to surround the scant remnants of Burnett family life that survive.
My principal interest in visiting, however, is that in the ‘Warren Field,’ a short walk down the hill from the Castle, in 2004, archaeologists found the footings of a huge Neolithic Timber Hall.
This came to my attention in July this year, when a National Trust news story arrived in my inbox revealing that further study of what had been excavated pointed to a Mesolithic Soli-Lunar Calendar in the same field. Yes – a Mesolithic Calendar, dating some five thousand years older than any time measuring device in the Middle East, to 8000BC in Aberdeenshire. This is quite Earth shattering news for the world of Archaeology, and the Birmingham University Archaeologists who did this work are to be congratulated on this ground breaking work. Follow the links for more information.
From Crathes, we took road to the coast for a light lunch in a seaside pub in Stonehaven Harbour – a lovely sleepy fishing village fond of its rugby.
Taking the scenic route home, we headed south-west first down to Fettercairn, and then back north-east up the Cairn o Mount road, getting an amazing view of Stonehaven from 1493ft above it!
Finally, on the home stretch, we stopped at Aboyne cemetry to walk up the path into the woods and visit the delightful little Aboyne Stone Circle – just five stones remaining of what looked like could have been 8 or even 10. This seemed of a much older lineage than the Early Bronze Age recumbent stone circles we saw yesterday, but sported, nonetheless, a fine fleshy-pink granite stone amongst its remaining stones. Lovely ambience, under the trees, a peaceful, magical place.
Click on any picture in these blog posts to see all the photos in the Aberdeenshire set on Flickr
So here we are – my partner Colin and I – staying in a little cottage in Royal Deeside, exploring Aberdeenshire. As is my wont – and indeed much of the reasoning behind the choice of location – a good part of our holiday will be devoted to visiting ancient sites, and, after arriving late Saturday and having a lazy Sunday, today has been our first major excursion into the ancient landscape around us.
We devoted today to visiting the major recumbent stone circles in the area – so called because of the style of circle unique to North East Scotland, which incorporates a massive horizontal, or recumbent stone, flanked by two standing stones, and in which the rest of the stones taper in height gradually away from the recumbent stone to the shortest one directly opposite. The two flankers are also generally one tall and thin, the other short and fat, and – as today’s experience seemed to suggest – the masculine/feminine suggestion in these flankers was sometimes accentuated by the taller, thinner flanker looking decidedly phallic.
The first circle we visited, we didn’t realise until the end of the day, would be the one with the finest ambience, views, and overall ‘vistor experience’. Tomnaverie, near Tarland, proved to be not only one of the finest examples of recumbent stone circles that we visited today, but with by far the best feel to it.
The next we visited was Midmar Kirk, in the graveyard of a church built right next to it in the late 18th century.
The best thing about this circle was the flesh pink granite penis stone – the Balblair Standing Stone – a short walk away from the circle hidden in a little wood.
Then we visited Cullerlie Stone Circle – a fairly fine example of the style of circle, but yards from a working farmyard where farmers and tractors bustled about their business during our visit.
Then Easter Aquhorthies, a very massive recumbent stone, but the whole circle wrapped in a 19th century kerb with a 20th century barbed wire fence a few feet beyond it. It was impossible to get any real perspective on the site, and the ambience was definitely not helped by the four old ladies sitting on the recumbent with their packed lunch. I made it quite clear that I thought they were distinctly lacking in respect for a historic monument, and – to their credit – they moved and got out of the way so we could take our pictures and try to gain some appraisal of the circle.
Lastly, at Loanhead of Daviot, we found again the peace, space, a good view, and some of the ambience we had experienced at Tomnaverie, and would call this the 2nd best of the day.
It remained only for us to make the trip across the harvested wheat field for a closer look at the much depleted and uncared for Balquhain Stone Circle, before beginning our journey back to our cottage in Ballater. The most impressive stone at Balquhain is of course the white quartz pillar!
The day would not have been complete, in the Valley of the Don, without a visit to at least one of the several Pictish symbol stones, displaying the now lost symbolic language of this 7th century Christian people. Nor, without a picture or two of the imposing Bennachie mountain – literally the ‘breast mountain’ – that overlooks the entire valley, and which is visible from most of the circles we visited.
Finally, the day was only complete with a tea – or martini – at the delightful Kildrummy Castle Hotel, after a gentle walk in the lovely gardens for which the ruins of the 13th century English conqueror’s castle forms a picturesque backdrop.
Click on any picture in these blog posts to see all the photos in the Aberdeenshire set on Flickr
In the Spring of 2013 Colin and I went to the Outer Hebrides. As in the past, I elected to drive to Skye first, and we stayed overnight at the Flodigarry Hotel on the northern tip of the isle.
We were lucky enough to get upgraded to their premier room, overlooking Flodigarry Island in the bay below the hotel, and this is where I proposed, and we became engaged.
The following morning we crossed from Uig to Stornoway, arriving on Lewis midday. We stayed in Valasay – the same cottage I had stayed in in 2006, where you have to cross ‘a bridge over the Atlantic’ to get from Lewis to the isle of Great Bernera, to get to the cottage – and spent a few days exploring Callanais (my third visit here), and the Butt of Lewis on the very northern tip of the isle – the windiest place in the UK.
Then we drove south through Harris, from Leverburgh to Berneray, across the causeways to North Uist, where we stopped to visit its magnificent Stone Circle at Pioball Fhinn. The causeways then continue across to the little isles of Benbecula, of Grimsay, and on to South Uist, where at the Hebridean Jewellery shop and workshop we got our engagement rings (which say ‘Gu brath’ [‘For Ever’] in Gaelic script).
Finally, we took the ferry across to the Isle of Barra where we stayed in a cottage for a week, visiting the isle of Vatersay to the south, exploring the local archaeology, and of course taking the boat out to the castle in Castlebay.
Sailing back to Oban, finally, the fortnight came to an end with the drive home from there.
The North Yorks Moors are, it must be said, completely covered in the traces of our prehistoric ancestors. Although obviously the traces in the lowlands have not fared anywhere near as well as those on the heights around Britain – particularly since the advent of agribusiness in the late 20th century – it seems also true to say that there was something special, for our ancestors, about the uplands – especially when certain high peaks could be seen for miles around, and monuments set with sightlines to those peaks. There are several such ‘sacred hills’ in the North Yorks moors (Roseberry Topping and Freebrough Hill especially), and you can see at least one of them from all the various neolithic monuments, from circles to cairns, and the Bronze Age barrows that followed them.
In a few days it is not possible to capture much of this heritage, only to attempt to take in a representative sample. My sample, additionally, included only those sites which I could access in an hour or so’s walk – there and back – so I certainly missed some sites which are deeper into the interior. Nonetheless, I think I managed to see some interesting monuments, including High Bridestones and the nearby Beacon Howe, Ramsdale Stone Circle, and the Brow Moor Monument and associated rock art features. I also stopped off at Whitby Abbey, Helmsley Castle, and on my way back home, The Twelve Apostles Stone Circle on Ilkley Moor.
High Bridestones is a much distressed monument, comprising a number of standing and recumbent stones, and it is frankly unclear whether this is a stone circle and/or a stone row, although I have seen it described as both online. To my eye, there were only the three stones, in a row, that were standing, but one seemed to have sufficient large recumbent stones nearby to potentially have been a circle. There are also – reputedly – the Low Bridestones nearby, but I couldn’t find them, unless, indeed, what I had found were High and Low Bridestones and they were closer together than it seems on the map. This was a tricky business, working out quite what I was looking at!
The nearby Beacon Howe, with a single stone standing at its summit and two at its foot, offered astounding views across the moors, and one wonders what (probably) Bronze Age chief lay buried here, overlooking the more ancient site of the Bridestones. The later Bronze Age monuments, celebrating as they seem to more individual burials, clearly mark a break from the seemingly more communal mortuary practices of the past, whilst at the same time gaining some of their sanctity through association with – by direct sightline – the older Neolithic monuments. This is perhaps at its clearest at Stonehenge, where a great number of individual Bronze Age burial mounds surround and overlook the older monuments. But it is also clear up here on the North Yorks Moors.
Further east, overlooking Robin Hood’s Bay and Ravenscarr, is Brow Moor, the focus of Smith and Walker’s book on Rock Art, and the Stoupe Brow Trail usefully takes one from a little carpark all around the moor visiting each mound and several of the earth-fast rock art stones. I was blessed with glorious sunshine for this walk and easily found the Brow Moor monument – carefully reburied since its excavation save for the single standing stone, and the single recumbent stone opposite, that were visible beforehand. This Neolithic mound with inward-facing rock art stones provides, according to Smith and Walker, a link to what they suggest may have been a trail from Millin Bay on the east coast of northern Ireland, via the Isle of Man, Morecombe Bay and the Aire Gap, to Flamborough Head and beyond to Scandinavia. The three-tiered cosmology of sky, earth, and underworld (familiar in ancient Peru and Australia, let alone Northern Europe) represented at sites along this trail through rock art, present a really interesting theory.
Ramsdale Stone Circle, on Fylingdales Moor, provided not only an easy walk from a little carpark by the road (welcome on the same day as the much longer around Brow Moor) but amazing views across to Brow Moor itself, and north towards what may indeed have been Roseberry Topping in the distance. Eerily, there were the remains of a sheep’s skull, broken into many pieces, strewn around one of these three standing stones, adding atmosphere to the place!
Whilst in the North Yorks Moors, of course, it would have been churlish not to visit, in addition to Rievaulx, and see first hand that classic view of Hammer horror movies: Whitby Abbey, where there is also an excellent little museum, and fine views over this little seaside town. The finest view though, is from the summit of Blue Bank at the very eastern edge of the moor, near Beacon Howe and the Bridestones, from where one can see the whole bay – and indeed the Abbey itself.
Being in Helmsley for the week – I couldn’t leave without a visit to its castle, and enjoyed the surprise of surviving 16th century wood panelling in the one remaining complete building of this medieval stronghold. I confess though it was quite satisfying to see how the great tower that was the visible symbol of Norman overlordship – looming over Helmsley’s market square – was felled by the Parliamentarians who destroyed this Royalist stronghold in 1644.
It remained but to delight – on the last night in Helmsley – in the truly brilliant gastronomy available at The Star Inn in Harome, 2 miles away, where much of what one is served is grown out the back. This was a really fantastic meal – truly fine dining with the freshest of ingredients!
Leaving my little one-bed self-catering cottage early on the last day, I took a detour on the road home to stop off on the edge of Ilkley Moor, for one last moorland walk up to the Twelve Apostles stone circle, a delightful (restored) circle of twelve small standing stones, with possibly the finest 360 panoramic vista of any circle I’ve ever seen – especially on what felt like the most glorious weather of the whole of 2012!
To view all the photos from this holiday visit Flickr
This summer’s tourism is more generally Neolithic than specifically Megalithic, and closer to home than Spring’s sojourn to the Mediterranean. I am in North Yorkshire – staying in a little cottage in Helmsley – and have hippy rock musician Julian Cope’s ‘Modern Antiquarian’ (1998) with me, along with Teeside Archaeological Society’s Brian Smith and Alan Walker’s excellent ‘Rock Art & Ritual’ (2008) all about the unique Neolithic Rock Art of the North Yorks Moors, and Durham Archaeology Professor Chris Scarre’s ‘Megalithic Monuments of Britain and Ireland’ (2007) for more general reference. I also have OS Landranger Maps 94, 99, 100, and 101, and GoogleMaps and the OS Maps on my iPhone4S, along with its compass and excellent camera!
The first visit – being in Helmsley – was of course to walk the couple of miles up the Cleveland Way to the picturesque ruins of Rievaulx Abbey, Britain’s first Cistercian institution, from 1132 CE.
A truly idyllic valley, it is little wonder that some six centuries later, the 17th century Fred Goodwin, Charles Dunscombe, upon acquiring the Helmsley estate (complete with ruined Norman castle at Helmsley as well as the ruined Abbey) should decide, not only to build the rather over-the-top Dunscombe Park country house, but to splash out on the then avant garde new-fangled ‘natural’ landscape garden known as Rievaulx Terrace, with its Tuscan and Ionic Temples, and its multiple vistas looking down onto the ruins of the Abbey. A really lovely place, this – you can imagine the late 17th/early 18th century posh-types promenading along here and taking Sunday lunch – apparently twice a year – in the Ionic Temple, built in Roman style but with Greek mythological stories painted on the ceiling. Its a giant fridge magnet proving to all who care to visit that Charles Dunscombe – commoner made good through the (then relatively) new wonders of modern banking – had been on the Grand Tour and seen where the Classics came from. His son married into blue blood and the family added a title to their conspicuous wealth.
But of course the main reasons to be in North Yorkshire are Neolithic: specifically the two sacred landscapes to the West and to the Southeast of the Moors, and the numerous sites – and in particular the rock art – up on the heights of the Moors themselves.
The sacred landscape to the West is the plateau of land between the Rivers Ure and Swale, roughly between Northallerton in the north and Ripon in the South. Cope’s book tells the story well and I refer the reader to his account for more detail. [I also refer you to the Friends of Thornborough website – in particular to news of a fresh application to quarry up to the edge of the site!] My own visit focussed upon two sites – the Thornborough Henges in the north, and the Devil’s Arrows in the south. Both these sites have survived the ravages of time only barely. As Scarre asserts, henges are Late Neolithic (3rd millenium BCE) cousins of cursus monuments, stone and timber circles, and stone rows, where the high bank is usually outside the ditch (unlike Stonehenge, which is both a henge and a stone circle, and where the bank is inside the ditch). Henge, therefore, is not the best word, frankly, but we’re stuck with it. These monuments are not numerous, possibly because they are quite easily ploughed out of existence by farmers who’d rather not plough round them.
The three Thornborough Henges are in a row, roughly Northwest to Southeast, and the best preserved is the one that is forested over – called Camp Wood. The next best is the central monument, whose outer bank has collapsed in several places, but which still rises here and there to a good height. The cursus monument – probably earlier than the henge – that runs across the southern edge of the central henge, is all but indistinguishable from the modern landscape – I think the single track tarmaced road probably runs along it. The southernmost henge is inaccessible unless you’re happy to walk through a field full of young bulls, or walk around it until you find one of the small breaks in the hedge where there is a white tube covering the top line of barbed wire where you can climb over. It is very depleted by the ravages of time.
The incessant beeping of trucks at the gravel pit described by Cope in the 1990s is no more – indeed the gravel pits are now reclaimed as a nature reserve a little way down Moor Lane that includes a useful car park where you can leave your car before exploring the three monuments. Visiting all three is a must – you get a clear idea of the depth of the ditch and height of the bank (and width of the top of the bank) in Camp Wood, and, without the tree cover, a good idea of the scale and grandeur of the henges in the central monument. From the southern henge, you can look north back across the tops of the highest surviving ridges of the bank around the central monument to the trees of Camp Wood in the north and get a real feel for how the three monuments may have worked together in the past, with a Processional Way of some kind linking the three, no doubt, though no sign beyond field boundaries remains of such a Way, that I could ascertain.
Satisfied with my visit to the henges – a good two hours of clambering that made me grateful for my boots and long trousers, despite the heat of the late summer – I made next for Boroughbridge, a small town a short way down the A1(M) from Thornborough. As Cope describes so vividly, this dead-straight Roman road completely cuts through this landscape, and in its modern motorway form cuts one off from the surrounding landscape too, as you drive from junction to junction. But there is worse to come. Arriving at Boroughbridge you discover just how completely an ancient sacred monument can be disrespected in the modern era. The three Devil’s Arrows – a row of three supremely tall monuments of grit stone, scored by rainwater in great deep scratches from summit to base – are separated by the road, which cuts through them right next to the northernmost, and tallest, stone. The other side of the road, behind a tall hedge, the two remaining stones are completely inaccessible in the midst of a large field of cabbages. Heartbreakingly desolate, this ancient sacred site is quite desecrated, and after the briefest of visits I pressed on, eager to leave the place as soon as possible. Very sad.
The sacred landscape to the Southeast of the Moors has, I’m sorry to say, faired only a little better. The centrepiece is the largest monolith in Britain, the Rudston Monolith, erected on a natural mound c2000 BCE, and rising over 26ft in height, today capped with iron to stop it eroding. Around it stands the graveyard of a Norman church – Rudston’s All Saints Parish Church. Yet in the landscape of four thousand years ago there are no less than four cursus monuments – including the 2.5mile long Argham Cursus – that meet here at Rudston, along the little rivulet the Gypsey Race. Nearby are a number of ancient Howes – the finest outside of Wiltshire – including Willy Howe, where amidst the bracken and undergrowth of the tree covered mound I found a ‘Whiteleafed’ thorn tree, and added a strip of my handkerchief as a little offering to the tree, the Howe, and the landscape around. It was truly heartening to see that this Howe is not only visited, but clearly frequented by other Pagan-minded people who partake in one of the most ancient of customs – the making of Whiteleafed trees.
This concluded my visits to the two sacred Neolithic landscapes around the Moors. I couldn’t resist, however, whilst here, a few miles of the Wolds Way, and a glimpse of the Iron Age earthworks that comprise Camp Dale. Heavily agricultural now, the area is difficult to access beyond the bounds of the path, and the Camp itself inaccessible, but the earthworks remain, nonetheless, impressive! Tomorrow – the Moors themselves!
Wednesday was my trip through the heart of Corsica, taking in the Bronze Age sites of Cucuruzzu and Capula: the former rather dull, in all honesty, the latter re-occupied in the Middle Ages by Count Bianco, who ruled the whole of southern Corsica from here, leaving barely any trace of the earlier Bronze Age site save a single statue-menhir now reconstituted and erected at the entrance.
The Prehistoric Museum at Levie was well worth it – a regional museum with artefacts from Cucuruzzu and Capula and other sites around the south of the island, including the Dame de Bonifacio – a 35yr old disabled woman from 10000BCE. It became really clear here how the islands of Corsica and Sardinia were once one massive lump of granite – originally part of the Pyrenees – which had moved gradually across the western Mediterranean only reaching its current location as recently at 9500BCE – a blink of an eye in geological time. To repeat from the last post, not only all the obsidian found on Corsica came from Sardinia, where the main obsidian mine for much of Europe is found; there aren’t any metal ores on Corsica either, so all the bronze – all the swords and daggers on the statue-menhirs – came from Sardinia, too.
From Levie the drive up through Zonza takes you past the Col de Bavella, the immense peak of the southern part of the island, like a punk haircut in ancient stone, riven by the ravages of time and erosion into the weirdest of shapes: the ‘Quarry’ at Filitosa but on an epic scale! The drive down the east of the island from there gives continuous glimpses of the most lovely of beaches, before the road turns inland again toward Porto Vecchio. Wishing to avoid this most touristy of towns, I climbed up to the mountaintop of Casteddu d’Araghju (quite a climb in the afternoon heat, I can tell you) to the Bronze Age Nuraghic-like ruins there, before heading back across country to Sartene, through the smaller villages back up to Levie and back down the winding road to my little gite.
Thursday, like Tuesday, was a quieter day for relaxation, but I did take in the lovely seaside town of Bonifacio in the early evening, stopping at the delightful Terrasses d’Aragon restaurant, where the food was every bit as good as the view, (despite the complaints of fussy eaters on Trip Advisor) and I was able to marvel at the short strait that divides Corsica and Sardinia – perhaps a teensy bit wider than the Menai Straits, and certainly too wide for a bridge, but much much closer than France is to Britain, which of course was also a walkable landmass at the same time, when mesolithic hunters peopled Europe.
Today – Friday – I have seen the megalithic site that makes the holiday, for me. Filitosa, as my last post I think made clear, was far too ‘interpreted’ for me. Today, after visiting the small alignment of Stantari, the slightly larger grouping/alignment of Renaghju, and the ‘poster boy’ dolmen of Corsica: Fontanaccia, all thankfully left fairly well alone, (albeit along a well signed, well fenced tourist walk), I struggled across fields up and down a long and winding dirt path with no signage – unsure I was even going the right way, though trusting the excitement in my heart – to the barely touched, mostly recumbent, weed strangled Alignements de Pagliaju.
Stantari had (at least) two of the later, Bronze Age (c2000BCE here) statue-menhirs, with their proud phallic heads and stony faced looks, standing slightly taller and narrower than their rough hewn neighbours. This made me think, strangely, of the Celtic Crosses in the Hebrides, which I had always thought were probably remodelled standing stones, the new religion recycling the monuments of the old. Here it was again – though in this case c3000BCE monuments remodelled in c2000-1800BCE. There seems some disagreement on the web about whether all of the menhirs in this particular alignment are statue-menhirs or just the two. To my eye, there were only the two, amongst rough-hewn others. But as the whole site was fenced off with barbed wire it was impossible to get close enough to really tell.
Renaghju, not fenced off, about 5mins walk down the path, was definitely all rough hewn – supporting my feeling that the statue-menhirs were later remodellings at Stantari. There seemed to be a number of alignments with nearby hilltops, in particular with the characteristic Corsican rocky outcrops shaped by erosion into weird and wonderful and eerie faces, animals, and rock-spirits. The alignments were however either very complex or the re-erection of stones quite haphazard.
Third in the circuit was the Dolmen de Fontanaccia, pictures of which I have seen everywhere in Corsica – hence me dubbing it the ‘poster boy’ of Corsican prehistory, alongside the most representational of the Filitosan statue-menhirs. All three of these sites, I have to admit, rather lacked atmosphere – that wonderful quality of megalithic sites that captures the imagination. They were all somehow too manicured, albeit far from being over-interpreted like Filitosa. Perhaps I am spoiled by the wonderful Historic Scotland, English Heritage, and National Trust, in the UK, who all do their utmost to protect, conserve, tastefully and almost imperceptibly renovate, and generally if possible leave well alone (with notable exceptions, of course….)
But then finally, some 20mins or so further down the road, and situated on private land, with just a short little drive off the main road, blocked off with granite blocks, leaving parking space for only one car between the main road and the blocks, all under a rusting and defaced sign saying ‘Palaggiu’, I began the 15minute walk up into the wilderness, past an empty ruined hilltop farmhouse, with only the odd collection of rocks shaped into an arrow to guide my path (very tasteful I thought), leading finally to a completely rusted sign with an arrow scratched onto it pointing off the main track to what I had gleaned from the map was the site of the Alignements de Pagliaju.
The atmosphere here was truly amazing. The stones fair sizzled in the midday heat (as I did!) and for all that many of them were recumbent, those that still stood made clear how the original site seemed to have been laid out. I could discern something of a ‘T’ shape, with the top bar longer than the pillar, if you get me. The pillar seemed aligned with the very far distant peak of the Col de Bavella. There were so many stones in the central main alignment – I would guess originally a double row of stones, similar to that at Callanish – but as most were fallen, tumbled amongst the gorse and weeds, it was difficult to tell if there weren’t here and there single or small groups of stones between the rows, too. The stones in the ‘pillar’ of the ‘T’ were so tumbled, all recumbent in the dust, it was not possible from a short visit such as this to tell if they had even been in a row, though they certainly seemed to extend away from the main lines of stones in a perpendicular direction, roughly in line with the far distant mountain tops.
Over to one end was a group of massive granite blocks (such a frequent sight here) which I could climb to get something of an overview. Behind the blocks, seemingly at the entrance to the site, were the remains of a cairn, I don’t know whether contemporary or later than the alignments, that seemed to include internal cup-and-ring marks.
I spent over an hour here, in the baking heat, wandering amongst these enigmatic stones, thankful to the owner for leaving well alone and making it quite hard to reach, alone with the ancients.