Category Archives: photography

Playing Place…

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Well, it didn’t take us long to get there did it?

But let’s ponder a moment

what this structure could mean…

We could call the two flanking uprights,

Summer and Winter,

or Night and Day,

or Them and Us,

and it would not really matter which was which.

If we did that though, what would we call the holed stone?

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Circle of Stone…

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If ever there was a monument that ought to be regarded as fake.

This is surely it.

So far as we know it is unique,

although there are many holed stones.

The others are usually uprights, stand alone, and have much smaller holes.

But if it is authentic, and we have never come across

any suggestion that it is not,

then it is an indication that the ancients

ritualised, and that they thought symbolically.

This should not come as a surprise.

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Across moorland…

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These strange, narrow tracks betoken something,

processional, perhaps…

exhaling us where they do

with little work to accomplish.

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Would we have found them without

Ballowal Barrow or Boscawen-Un?

And even if we had,

would they still have been the same?

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“I think that’s what people mean, by tangential.”

 

Yet another disappearing stone…

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“It’s got a ‘wen’ in it!”

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And if we had not already twigged

that really should have clinched it!

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“How are they pronouncing it anyway?”

“‘Bosk-a-Noon’ – ‘The House of the Elder-Tree.'”

“They’re ignoring the ‘wen-bit’ then.”

“Or, we could just call it hidden.”

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“How do they do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make a stone that size disappear.”

“Well, at least it’s not yet started walking…”

“Or dancing…”

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By the time we left, though,

all the stones in the circle had begun,

what we call, ‘morphing’…

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And somewhere a horn was sounding.

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“If I didn’t know better,

I’d say the Wild Hunt was abroad.”

 

Weathering?…

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If Giants…

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Could construct…

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Balance-Stones…

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They would look a little like this…

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And for those still in need of perspective…

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‘TAKE A LOOK AT THESE HANDS’…

If these stone structures are produced by ‘nature’s hand’,

it may be salutory to consider ‘modern man’s hand’ in contrast,

which has, by quarrying, made a ‘bit of a mess’ of what was once

a ‘hill-fort’ possessing as much beauty as that of Carn les Boel or Carl Wark.

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Citadel of the Sun II…

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… We had been at the mercy of the tides before.

At Lindisfarne we were stranded on the ‘island’ for eight hours.

This time we were ‘stranded’ on the mainland…

There is something about causewayed isles that speaks to the soul.

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We wonder why anyone would choose to sail over.

Our fellow ‘pilgrims’ have, for the most part, dressed for the sun and they set off over the causeway before the tide has fully receded.

They appear largely unaware of the ‘why’ of their presence there…

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So we watch the birds instead.

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The ‘line’ does not pass through the castle.

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Citadel of the Sun…

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‘There is a certain atmosphere about the place,

an echo of a life that is hidden deep in the recesses of the mind.’

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“Brown Sign!”

The Green Goddess lurched violently as she swung around the almost impossible corner, before her steady growl returned, and then a roar of satisfaction as she contemplated yet another ‘worm-hole’ through the space-time continuum…

“What is Carn Euny anyway?”

“It’s a prehistoric village.”

Forthe first time that day the mist which had descended with our arrival began to show signs of lifting.

And beyond it, the sun…

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It was hard to believe that anyone else could have found the place but in amongst the well positioned stones and wild grasses, a lone baseball cap bobbed.

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Patience can be key but when patience fails a well turned chant usually does the trick.

We did have a date with the tides to consider, after-all…

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“And the Fogou?”

“Is up for grabs.”

“Grain storage?”

Snort

“Last line of defence?”

Snort again.

“I’d say this was a sweat lodge. Bring in hot stones. Pour on water…”

“…And journey to the Spirit World.”

“It still retains its air of sanctity.”

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And just as we started to chant the sun shone in…

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‘A very special place’…

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The Eskimo has over fifty words for snow…

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Carn les Boel, is marked on the map as a hill-fort but it is very different from the two ‘hill-forts’ we had just encountered on our Workshop…

It is difficult to imagine anyone living here, although, doubtless a presence would, in former times have been maintained.

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The stones, predominantly erratic, have been judiciously supplemented, and in case we had arrrived with eyes wide shut the avian populations seemed keen to call our attention to the ‘salient points’…

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These days we do not have to be told twice…

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Although, ‘The Dragon’s Breath’ was proving restrictive…

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Our request for clarity was graciously accepted…

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Albeit briefly…

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And why is Carn les Boel so special?

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It is a place where Dragon Energies meet the sea…