Gwaith 19: Arrival in Scotland (Monday, 1 Oct 2016)

Whenever I drive to Scotland, my first stop in the country is Clochmabenstane, a megalith standing in a field of Old Graitney farm, near Gretna. Along with a smaller stone set into a nearby hedge, Clochmabenstane is all that is left of a stone circle dated back to around 3000 BC.

The main stone, which is also called the Lochmaben Stone, is weathered granite, weighs about ten tons and is seven feet high and about 18 feet around. As for the etymology of Clochmabenstane, 'cloch' seems to suggest the modern Gaelic 'clach', meaning stone; 'maben' is related to Mabon (also known as Maponus), the Celtic God Mabon map Modron, Son of the Mother ; and 'stane' is a Scottish word for 'stone'. One suggested meaning for the name is the 'stone or burial place of Mabon'.

I first found out about the stone in Nikolai Tolstoy's The Quest for Merlin, where he suggests that the stone was the site of ceremonies for the cult of Maponus/Mabon and that Merlin may have been the chief druid in charge of them. I have used some elements of his suggestion in my novel, which is why I like to visit the megalith and get a sense of the stone itself and the surrounding area.

The Clochmabenstane is reached from a carpark near the farm, on the Solway Firth, with a walk across the boggy shoreline of the estuary, a climb over a wire fence, and a stroll up the mild slope alongside a hawthorn hedge. As I walked along the shore, with bramble bushes next to the property line, a rabbit popped out of one gorse bush, looped down the path and dashed into the hollow at the bottom of another bush. When I got nearer to the stone, masses of geese rose from a nearby field, milled around, then headed west.

Below are some photos of my visit:

The tide was slowing retreating as I walked to the stone

Milling geese making a racket

The Clochmabenstane surrounded by round haylage bales, which my father once called dongels,
though I haven't found that usage mentioned anyway else.

The east weathered and yellow-lichened face of the stone

The south face/edge of the stone

The west face of the stone, with its suggestion of a nose

The north face of the stone

The smaller stone, which has been set into the hawthorn hedge

The shoreline with the tide moving out

Another of my dramatic cloud photos

View across the Solway Firth that, in ancient times, could be forded when the tide is fully out by crossing mudflats
and wading across a narrow stretch of water

Another view of the firth

Once I finished my survey of the stone and sat with it for a while, I headed back to my car and drive on to my destination in Moffat (more in another post).

I hope you enjoyed this post. I am slowly catching up with my travel reports during my time during the two residencies at Stiwdio Maelor and I appreciate your patience.

Cofion Cynnes

Earl 

Gwaith 12: Ynys Y Fydlyn (10 Oct 2016)

Helo Pawb

As mentioned last year in my posting about Ynys Y Fydlyn, I learnt about its existence from my friend Grevel Lindop, who told me it was likely the last holdout of druids during the Battle for Ynys Môn. I felt a special connection to the site because of this history and decided to visit it again, even though I had not yet worked out a way to use it in my novel.

After 30 minutes of driving, I threw on my hiking boots, jacket and backpack and headed down the gravel path I had missed on my first visit. A short walk later, past gorse and bracken covered outcrops, through the smell of soft cowpats, and past the small lake at the back of the beach that is almost dried up at this time of year, I landed on the shingle beach of Ynys Y Fydlyn.

Bracken and gorse alongside the trail

The dried-up lake and the slopes of dead bracken

First view of Ynys Y Fydlyn

 As I wasn’t sure about the tide, I climbed along the rocks and slimy seaweed at the base of the eastern half of the island, which is no longer connected to the western half, and made my way to the westernmost point of the island. No wildflowers greeted me, as they did the previous visit, only soft, deep, hair grass and rocks stained and covered with pale green moss.

Part of the path across the top of the island

Below me was a rocky outcrop just above sea level, which I imagined would have seen druids and their supporters scrambling into the small willow-framed and horse- or bullock-hide covered small craft called cwrwgls (from which we get ‘coracle’) as they try to escape the approaching Roman soldiers.

The outcrop at the end of the western half of Ynys Y Fydlyn

Not long after I arrived, I looked to the north, from where a bitter wind was blowing, and noticed rain clouds developing. I hoped they might indicate a shower only. I was wrong. I dragged on my waterproof overpants and tried to wait out the rain, but it kept swirling around me with no let up. I left for the eastern section, as I knew there was an outcrop that might provide shelter. It did, so I sat out the storm and, when it eased, ate my lunch and meditated for a while. At one point, 20 or more pheasants burst out of the gorse and bracken at the top of the promontory opposite me and dropped down into the bushes at the base. There appeared to be no reason for this apparent panic, but I imagine a predator of some sort had spooked them.

View westward, from the inner isle, showing the inlet and the two island sections

My meditations and my explorations around site itself had prompted ideas, which I duly wrote down in my small notebook. As the tide started to turn I thought it time to head back home. However, when I reached the beach and double-checked my pockets, I realised I had dropped my small pouch with crystals and stones gathered from various places. I rushed back to the western section and found it where I had put on my overpants.

Tide flow across the inlet

Another of my colour and texture photos

As the tide wasn’t coming in that quickly, I stayed awhile and mused some more on the possible scene in the sixth century when the Romans stormed this last refuge of the druids. I wondered why the Celts had come here to launch themselves to Ierne (Ireland) or Ynys Manau (Isle of Man), when other places on Ynys Môn seemed closer to those destinations. I came up with some ideas, though they will need further thought before I use them in the book. What I can say is that if I flashback scene about the struggles at Ynys Y Fydlyn, I’ll set in a storm even more dramatic than the one I experienced, with the bellow and crash of waves on the rock below where the druids would be trying to launch their cwrwgls, while above them their warriors are fighting the Romans to their last breath.

Scene of past combat?

After giving thanks to the spirits of the past and of the place itself, I scrambled back to the shingle beach and, with pheasants diving into bushes as I moved past, strolled back to my car.

Last view of Ynys Y Fydlyn. Compare the clouds to the photo up the page

Odd arrangement of dragonflies on a fence post during my walk back

As always, I welcome your comments. All the best to whatever projects are giving you bliss.

Cofion Cynnes

Earl

Cyfaredd 19: Research on Ynys Môn: Day Two, Part Three

Haia Pawb

One of the joys of doing research on the spot is how synchronicities can occur. A chance conversation with my friend Grevel Lindop led me to the place where the druids on Ynys Môn made their last stand against the Romans. Ynys Y Fydlyn is a small rocky island on the northwest coast of Ynys Môn and accessible at low tide. Erosion has caused the island (which some call a promontory) to split into two, though one can scramble over rocks and slimy seaweed to the seaward end.

Earlier that day I had tried to reach the island in between my visit to Melin Llynnon and my meeting with Eflyn, but I became lost in the winding back roads of the island. Although I eventually found the right car park, I then went down the wrong trail. This time, I took the right track and after a pleasant walk over grassy meadows, past a fenced-off forest plantation and a small lake, I strode down to the shingle beach and gazed at the island. Here the remnants of the druids and their supporters, after the Battle for Ynys Môn fought on the Menai Strait, took refuge in a promontory fort whose remains are barely visible. The Romans besieged the Celts and threw them into the sea, though I image some escaped to either Ireland (Ierne) or the Isle of Man (Ynys Manau).

View of Ynys Y Fydlyn and the shingle beach, late in the afternoon.
Man-made ridges are visible on the landward section of the island.

Closer view of part of the possible man-made ridge-fortifications.

Continuing the wildflowers them from earlier posts: Forget-me-knots?

With the tide out, contrasting colours and textures.

Some of the seaweed I had to climb over to get to the seaward end of the island.

The plateau at the western end of the island, dotted wth wildflowers.

Looking over the edge of the western end.
Did druids scramble into boats here to escape the Romans?

Looking westward from the western end of the island, at the setting sun,
and imagining surviving druids escaping on small boats.

Solitary goose checking out the lie of the land or searching for its mate.

Can anyone see a creature resting its head on its forelegs?

Small lake and woods behind the shingle beach at Ynys Y Fydlyn

Departing view of Ynys Y Fydlyn

No jackdaws this time, just large gulls circling.

Other highlights of my trip to Ynys Y Fydlyn include

• Spotting a large bird, an osprey, I think, perched on a fence, which then flew off at my approach, but was back there when I next passed by.
• Watching a large kestrel hover, dive after a swallow, miss it, hover again, disappear behind a ridge of bushes, reappear with something small--a field mouse?--in its talons.
• Enjoying flights of swallows, for days now, swooping, dipping, weaving above fields and meadows.

I returned to my car relaxed and blessed and drove back to Cemaes Bay. The local fish 'n' chips shop had closed minutes before my arrival, so I settled for a pub meal and went back to my room for some writing and emailing.

As always, I hope you’re enjoying these posts and I welcome any comments.

Cofion cynnes

Earl