Avebury–more awesome than Stonehenge

by Sean McLachlan on

Everyone’s heard of Stonehenge, the enigmatic stone circle on Salisbury Plain, but just seventeen miles to the north stands an even more imposing monument–Avebury.

Actually it’s a whole landscape of monuments. For miles around the rolling fields are dotted with the burial mounds of forgotten chieftains, and many hilltops are protected by ancient ramparts. Avebury itself is a massive stone circle with two avenues running across the fields to a pair of smaller stone circles. The entire area has been designated a World Heritage Site.

Stonehenge is more self contained, a pretty picture and fascinating to stare at, but it suffers from familiarity, so much so that the Times Online listed it as one of the world’s five most overrated tourist attractions. Avebury is far more vast, and instead of walking along a cordoned path with hundreds of other visitors, you can wander through a prehistoric landscape away from the crowd.

Getting off the bus at the village of Avebury, you don’t have far to go to see the main monument, in fact you’re right in the middle of it. An impressive circle of stones (called a henge in scientific parlance) more than a thousand feet in diameter is surrounded by a deep ditch and earthen rampart. Two smaller henges stand inside the large one. An avenue flanked by smaller stones heads south, and there used to be another one headed west, although that’s all but disappeared thanks to the march of time. This main monument was started around 3000 BC, or five thousand years ago.

Considering the region’s history, it’s amazing any of the smaller stones survive at all. During the Middle Ages the local farmers got religion in a big way and decided to destroy this reminder of their pagan past. Easier said than done. Whole villages turned out to make huge bonfires to crack the stones, and then they hauled the pieces away and used them for local buildings, a common practice throughout England and seen especially along the route of Hadrian’s Wall, where the Romans were kind enough to make properly shaped stones instead of massive monoliths.

Destruction was as dangerous as it was difficult. Local legend says that one day a group of men were working to topple a large stone and it fell over, crushing one of the workers. In 1938 archaeologists dug up a fallen stone and found the skeleton of a man underneath. He carried some 14th century coins and the tools of a barber-surgeon (the jobs were the same back then). These folks, who cut hair, lanced boils, and utterly failed to find a cure for the plague, were considered to be quasi-magical, their strange arts necessary but somewhat suspect. It’s interesting that a magical person was brought along to destroy a magical place, and it’s no wonder his death became enshrined in local memory.

Fortunately much has been preserved or restored. A walk down the avenue of stones headed south from Avebury brings you to two more famous monuments.

%Gallery-72633%The field slopes down toward the south, and as you pass around the brow of a ridge a giant conical hill appears. This is Silbury Hill, a 130 ft. chalk mound erected around 2500 BC. Nobody is sure what it was for, but some researchers noticed it’s in a large circular valley that works as a natural amphitheater. I spoke to one of the site’s volunteers who participated in an experiment a couple of years ago. A group of musicians using reconstructed prehistoric instruments played them atop the hill while people stood at various locations around it. This woman stood a mile away and could hear all the instruments clearly, except the drums which were muffled due to the rain. She could even hear a song one of the musicians sang, picking out most of the words even though artillery practice was going on at the nearby military base!

On a ridge beyond Silbury Hill is West Kennet Long Barrow, a gallery of stones forming a long hall and four side chambers, with a larger chamber at the end. All of it is covered with earth to make a long artificial ridge atop the natural one. It was started around 3600 BC and remarkably some of the burials survived to the modern era. The first two rooms flanking the gallery held the remains of women, children, and the elderly. The next two contained adults, and the big room at the end had bones only of adult males. Were these warriors? Nobody knows, but it’s fun to speculate.

All in all, Avebury makes for a fun day of wandering. I suggest starting early and taking a good pair of walking shoes and an Ordinance Survey map. There are many smaller archaeological sites in the area worth visiting that only take a mile or so of walking to get to. The visitor center in town sells detailed maps.

Mystery Hill–America’s Stonehenge?

by Sean McLachlan on

In the quiet woods of New Hampshire, there lies a mystery. Strange monuments of stone are interspersed among the trees. Some look like squat houses, others like enclosures of some kind, and there’s a large, flat stone with a channel cut around it that looks perfect for some bloody ritual.

This is America’s Stonehenge, also known as Mystery Hill, and it’s been attracting the curious for generations. The owners claim it could be 4,000 years old, built by a lost Native American tribe or some unknown civilization. Others think that druids or Irish monks sailed across the sea and built this as a ceremonial center. Researchers claim to have found that some of the standing stones have astronomical alignments and would have helped the ancient builders schedule their harvest and plowing as well as religious rituals.

It’s not all ancient mysteries either. The site has 105 acres of woodlands open to snowshoeing in winter, and there’s an alpaca farm where you can pet the friendly creatures or even take one home if you’re willing to plunk down a few grand.

But is this really “America’s Stonehenge”? Professional archaeologists tend to dismiss the claims on several grounds–no ancient European artifacts have been found at the site, the structures aren’t all that similar to ones found in Europe, and in fact look more like Colonial period storage buildings. The “sacrificial altar”, according to one archaeologist, looks like a Colonial apple press. There’s also the problem that the man who bought the site in the 1930s allegedly moved around many of the stones to make it look more impressive.

But that doesn’t stop a devoted subculture of enthusiasts who believe this was one of the major religious centers of an advanced civilization whose remains can be found all over new England and beyond. Championed by the popular writer Barry Fell in his book America B.C. and a host of other authors, these folks are conducting research into America’s past that tells a widely different story than those of professional archaeologists. Their theories range from lost civilizations, visits by European civilizations before the Vikings, to stranger ideas involving Atlantis and aliens.

As a former archaeologist, I have to say I lean strongly toward the “reworked Colonial era farm” theory. Yet America’s Stonehenge is a strangely evocative place, and one cannot help feel an eerie tingle when wandering amidst the silent stones. There’s something about them that creates an air of mystery that is hard to dismiss.

And everyone loves a good mystery.

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Hiking Hadrian’s Wall–the practicalities

by Sean McLachlan on

If this series on the Hadrian’s Wall Path has sparked your interest, why not walk it yourself? It’s one of the more interesting and less challenging of the UK’s fifteen National Trails.

The total length of the trail is 84 miles. It is well signposted and difficult to get lost. Furthermore, there are plenty of camp grounds, hotels, and Bed and Breakfasts along the way. The scenery is attractive and varied but not rugged. If you want something really challenging, Wales or the Scottish Highlands will be more your style. The Hadrian’s Wall Path is more of a fun ramble through lots of history, with the added bonus of being able to boast that you walked across England.

The first question you have to ask yourself is whether to go westwards or eastwards. I decided to go from east to west because I wanted to leave Newcastle behind me and, with the brief exception of Carlisle, walk through rural areas. Ending a hike in a major city didn’t sound inviting. Plus the fort and museum at Segedunum give a good overview of the Wall’s history. Most guidebooks are written with this direction in mind, including the Hadrian’s Wall Path by Anthony Burton, published by National Trail Guides. This is the one I used. The main disadvantage of going this route is that the prevailing weather is from the southwest so you’ll have the wind and rain in your face. The National Trail Guide uses detailed Ordnance Survey maps that show not only the trail, but lots of other interesting historical and natural features along the way. If you decide to go for another guide, I recommend buying an Ordnance Survey map too.

I did my hike in the third week of August. The path was fairly busy but I had no problem making reservations at hotels and B&Bs just two weeks in advance. The summer is the best time to go in terms of weather and long days, but if you want to avoid people you might want to go in early September when the students are back in school. Spring and autumn could both be fun, but avoid the Path in winter. Many parts are very exposed and walking on the Path at this time can lead to erosion due to muddy conditions.

Accommodation is plentiful. A good place to start is Hadrian’s Wall Country. Their listings are a bit out of date, however, so you’ll need to call the places and doublecheck everything. National Trails publishes a pamphlet called Where to Stay for Walkers, available at Tourist Information Centers in Newcastle, Carlisle, and other local spots. Many of the campgrounds are actually in barns and offer amenities such as showers and a cooked breakfast. If you arrange it right, you can skip carrying a tent altogether and just bring a sleeping bag. There are also a variety of hotels and B&Bs. I only looked at the ones that I specifically mentioned in my posts. Only the Barrasford Arms was anything approaching luxurious. The others provide clean, decent accommodation and a hot cooked breakfast, which is all you really need anyway. There are also several youth hostels along the way if you don’t mind sharing a room with strangers.

Other than camping supplies for those who wish to do so, here are a few essentials:

  • A good set of waterproofs, including pants, coat, and hood. You’ll need them.
  • A sturdy pair of hiking boots.
  • A variety of clothing for cool and hot weather. I walked in everything from long pants and a sweater to shorts and a t-shirt. The weather can change quickly.
  • Sunscreen (the British sun can be surprisingly strong in summer).
  • The usual safety gear like blister treatment, first aid supplies, whistle, etc. While you aren’t hiking to the Mountains of the Moon, you do want to be prepared.
  • Snacks and water. You’ll find plenty of places to buy nibbles along the way except when going over the crags. There it gets a bit remote. It’s best to be prepared on all part of the Path.
  • Sneakers. These are optional, but make walking much more comfortable on the first day when pounding along the pavement through Newcastle.

One final note: don’t expect to get a signal on your mobile phone along much of the route.

How long the Path takes depends on you. I took six days averaging 14 miles a day. I’m no star athlete, but I’m a reasonably fit, regular walker and I was carrying a thirty-pound pack. I had no trouble with that pace. I saw most things along the way but an extra day or two would have given me a chance to make some interesting detours and explore more of Carlisle. Shorter days are certainly possible considering there’s accommodation at regular intervals along the way. You can also do it more quickly. One pub owner told me of a guy who did it in 24 hours. I guess that gave him something to brag about, but he couldn’t have seen much.

The thing that makes this hike unique, the Wall itself, means that extra caution must be taken while walking. Please do not climb on the wall or remove stones. There’s one short section at Housesteads where they’ve reinforced it enough that you’re allowed to walk on top, but please only do that there. Also, stick to the official route. There are a lot of sensitive archaeological remains and areas of wildlife on either side, so it’s important to keep this in mind. Also follow the Countryside Code, which is mostly common sense but a good thing to reread every now and then.

The Path often cuts through private land. While you are allowed to walk there, please stick to the trail, don’t alarm the livestock, and close gates behind you.

Enjoy your hike, and when you’re done, share your experiences in the comments section!

You can read the entire series here.

Hadrian’s Wall Day Six: reaching the coast

by Sean McLachlan on




It’s the last day of my hike and I wake up excited. I have only fifteen miles to go to finish walking across the country! Sure, I’ve been going along one of the narrowest parts of England, but it still feels good. I’ll be staying at the same hotel in Carlisle, the Brooklyn House, again tonight, and that means I can finish up my hike with only a day pack.

Back in Roman times Carlisle was called Luguvallium. It started as a wooden fort that soon attracted a civilian community. When it grew in importance the fort and town grew as well. As I make my way through the streets towards to Path I see Carlisle is fairly diverse, with many Indians, Pakistanis, and a few Arabs. It was diverse in Roman times too. The legions came from all over the Empire and members of various local tribes settled here to trade with them. There’s even a report that when the Emperor Septimius Severus visited in 208 AD during his campaign against the Picts he met an “Ethiopian” legionnaire here, the Roman term for a black African. The Roman Empire never controlled any parts of Africa south of the Sahara, but people from well beyond its borders immigrated to seek their fortune.

Walking out of Carlisle takes much less time than walking out of Newcastle did. Soon I’m strolling along the south bank of the River Eden as it wends its way through forest towards the Solway Firth. A few traces of the Vallum are all that show me that I’m still following the Wall. Although the Path is well marked, it would be nice if there were more informational signs. I would have liked a sign telling me, “This is the last bit of Wall above ground, so take a photo.” Yesterday I passed a stretch of the Wall that my guidebook tells me has Roman graffiti and the engraving of a penis, put there to ward off evil spirits. There was no sign to mark the spot, and not only did I miss the penis, I even forgot to look for it. I guess that sort of thing happens to a man when he reaches 40.

Now the Path strikes out away from the river and I’m walking across farms again. I hop over a stile into a field and up a low rise. When I get to the top the rest of the field comes into view and I stop short. A large herd of cows and their calves are standing not twenty yards away. It’s calving season and cows get very defensive of their young at this time of year. The biggest one starts bawling with a noise sound like a mixture of a moo and a roar. I back away as the cows line up between me and the calves. Earlier this year a hiker was killed by cows, and former cabinet minister David Blunkett was injured in a separate incident and suffered a broken rib. More of the herd start mooing angrily and cows from other parts of the field start converging on me. I knew I shouldn’t have touched that cursing stone back in Carlisle. Now I’m going to get trampled. My friends will remember me not for the son I raised, or the books I wrote, or the countries I visited, but as the guy who got killed by cows.

%Gallery-72023%I move quickly but calmly away, which is the best thing to do with an angry animal that isn’t actually attacking. They hold their ground, still braying, and the rest of the herd joins them to make a long line facing me. I make a detour around the edge of the field to get to the other side. Even though I’m a couple of hundred yards away now they turn their line to face me as I go around. If they make a move I’ll hop over the fence and damn the barbed wire.

I finally make it to the other stile and climb over with a sense of relief. Hanging there is a sign saying, “COWS WITH CALVES. ENTER WITH CAUTION” Thanks. It might have been nice to have that sign on both entrances. I continue on, feeling cocky. I’ve looked death in the face and survived. I’m going to eat hamburger tonight. Just then a drop of water splots on my head, followed by another, and then half a dozen more. I yank my raincoat out of my pack as the whole sky opens up. A heavy rain drums against my hood with a punishing force. That damn cursing stone is after me again. I pull on some waterproof leggings and continue on.

The rain is cutting down visibility, but as I crest a high hill I can dimly see the hills of Scotland beyond the River Eden to the north. Soon I come to the village of Burgh by Sands on the site of the Roman fort of Aballava. There’s not much to be seen of Aballava now except for the 12th century church, which, like so many buildings in this part of the country, is made of Roman stone. The church is small and plain and provides welcome shelter from the incessant rain. Set into the wall to the left of the altar is an old stone face of some pagan god, a round smiling fellow with a Celtic-style drooping moustache. Why the builders would put such a thing in their church is a mystery.

A more practical addition was the 14th century tower, which doubled as a pele tower to protect the parishioners from Scottish raids. It was erected after the death of Edward I, who despite his nickname “Hammer of the Scots” never defeated his northern enemies and died of dysentery while camped at a marsh not far from here while waiting to cross Solway Firth for another invasion.

I need to pass through that marsh now. The tide from Solway Firth comes in quickly and I have to time my crossing carefully to either three hours before or one-and-a-half hours after high tide. As I make my way along a narrow two-lane road I see a big red sign saying “ROAD CLOSED”. A tidal calendar tells me it’s almost two hours after high tide, but with the heavy rain and strong easterly wind I hesitate. Drowning a few miles from my goal wouldn’t be as embarrassing as getting trampled by cows, but the result is the same.

I decide to chance it. It’s five miles along the marsh to Drumburgh, where the land rises again and I’ll be safe. A couple of high spots along the way can provide refuge in case of trouble, and there’s an old sea barrier by the Path I can retreat to at any time. Unless the rain causes some record flooding, I should be OK.

I walk quickly, the rain getting stronger as a clammy wind comes off the Solway Firth and over the marsh. A variety of waterfowl peck at the tall grass, but I’m not about to go squishing over the marsh to get photos for the folks back home. I keep casting nervous glances at the waterline. This doesn’t help, because the waterline varies. At points it’s far in the distance; at other times it’s almost to the Path. I can’t tell if it’s going in or out. A few cars go whooshing along the road nearby despite the signs at regular intervals saying it’s closed. This gives me some confidence. If the locals feel the road is safe, it probably is.

After a grinding five miles during which the inside of my waterproofs turn into a humid jungle, I make it to Drumburgh and its local castle. It’s a fortified house really, with thick stone walls and high windows. The stout front door is set onto the wall of the upper floor. There’s a stairway to it, but in the days of the Border Reivers there would have been a crude drawbridge that could have been pulled away to make the house inaccessible. Here I spot a last hurrah from Hadrian’s Wall–a Roman altar used as a garden ornament.

I only have a couple of miles left to my final goal of Bowness-on-Solway. The rain keeps coming and the Path is abandoned. I squish along wondering what it must be like to live in such a spot. Solway Firth is beautiful despite the wretched weather, a sweeping vista of gray water with the green hills of Scotland to the north. The flat marshland with its innumerable rivulets and marshgrass has its own subtle beauty.

Squish squish. Squish squish. This is hardly a glorious last two miles to my hike. I pass through a bit of forest and some weathered stone farmhouses covered in yellow and green lichen until the sigh
t of a sign stops me short.

BOWNESS-ON-SOLWAY

This is it. At this spot was the Roman fort of Maia, the western end of Hadrian’s Wall. A short stroll up a little lane past stout stone buildings and an inviting pub and I see the Path end at a little hut. A sign congratulates me for finishing. It’s stopped raining for the first time in hours and I stand looking out over Solway Firth as it widens out into the Irish Sea. There’s no-one about and all I hear is the distant cry of gulls and the soft breeze rustling through the marshgrass.In six days I’ve walked 84 miles across the borderlands of England and Scotland, once riven by warfare and now safe but for the occasional herd of cows. I feel a bit sad it’s all over but I know I’ll be doing another long hike in England or Scotland next year. How couldn’t I?

You can read the entire series here.

Next: Hiking Hadrian’s Wall–The Practicalities

Hadrian’s Wall Day Five: across the lowlands

by Sean McLachlan on

Getting up early I take a last look at the crags that I crossed yesterday before heading west and towards Carlisle. I’m now in the lowlands and after scrabbling over steep rock for the past two days it’s very easy going. Add the fact that it’s sunny and I only have eleven miles to walk today, and I have an easy ramble ahead of me.

The countryside is more populated here, and I pass by hedges, fields, farms, even housing developments. Yet there are still wide swathes of untouched land. Rabbits hop into hedges as I approach and I spot the track of a fox in the mud. The Wall, sadly, has almost disappeared, quarried over the centuries for use in other buildings. I’m still along its course, though, as the ditch to the north and the Vallum to the south show me. They’ve survived better than the more durable stone.

The richness of this region made it a target for reivers, and I pass another pele tower, almost swallowed up by the more modern house built around it. There were probably more around here but they’re been quarried for stone just like the Wall was.

I stop by the side of the trail for a snack and meet some other hikers. I’ve met a few along this hike, but this group is different–it’s a whole family, including a ten-year-old boy and an eight-year-old girl. They’re doing the entire Hadrian’s Wall Path and have already made it all the way from Newcastle to this spot, more than sixty miles. They’re taking it slow, the kids carrying little day packs and being encouraged with a steady supply of treats, but they’re doing it. Hmmmm, perhaps I should have picked a more challenging hike for my midlife crisis. It helps that these are two of the coolest kids ever. I ask them if any of the other kids in their school have ever walked across England and they blush and smile and shake their heads no. Impressive. Once my kid is a bit bigger I’ll have to take him across the country too. At age three he’s already walking a kilometer each way to and from school.

Next I come to the River Eden, which flows westward to Solway Firth, my final destination. Thick bushes colored with purple wildflowers grow along its banks. It’s a peaceful spot, but I see the tops of buildings ahead.

It’s not long until the River Eden winds its way into suburban Carlisle. I pass through a city park and nod at someone passing the other direction. He gives me a confused, wary look and I realize that I’m off the trail, where conversation is easy and everyone is helpful, and back into the world of city attitude.

%Gallery-72022%Carlisle is the most northerly city in England (it would be hard to go further north without ending up in Scotland) and has a population of a little more than 100,000, although it feels much smaller. An ugly ring of modern sprawl surrounds a few winding historic streets with a soaring cathedral, a few very old buildings such as the Guildhall built in 1407, and a massive castle. Carlisle Castle is built atop a Roman fort and the oldest bits still visible were built by Henry I in the 1120s. It was actually finished by David I of Scotland, who captured Carlisle in 1136. This city and Newcastle, where I started my hike, were top prizes in the constant English-Scottish border wars. David was one of the great early kings of the Scots and helped unify the rival clans into something approaching a national identity. It took a lot of fighting to bring the proud families under the feudal yoke, and he was only partially successful, but the Scots loved him because he was good at killing Englishmen

In a pedestrian underpass in front of the castle is a large boulder of sculpted granite that has got to be the strangest example of public art I’ve ever seen. It’s a reproduction of a famous “cursing stone” made in 1525 and inscribed with a curse against the reivers by the Archbishop of Glasgow. It’s pretty nasty, going on for more than a thousand words and inscribed in a spiral around the entire stone. For sheer spiteful detail, it cannot be matched.

“I curse their head and all the hairs of their head; I curse their face, their brain, their mouth, their nose, their tongue, their teeth, their forehead, their shoulders, their breast, their heart, their stomach, their back, their womb, their arms, their leggs, their hands, their feet, and every part of their body, from the top of their head to the soles of their feet, before and behind, within and without. . . May all the malevolent wishes and curses ever known, since the beginning of the world, to this hour, light on them. May the malediction of God, that fell upon Lucifer and all his fellows, that cast them from the high Heaven to the deep hell, light upon them. . .“

And on and on and on. It’s so creepy, in fact, that one local councilor has blamed it for everything from foot-and-mouth disease to floods and tried to have it removed.

Luckily reason won out over superstition and the cursing stone remains in place. But having read it and touched it, will my good luck on this hike hold out?

Read the entire series here.

Tomorrow: Finished!