The Queen’s Chronicles: WELSH SPIRIT SITES Part 2

Continuing on through southern Wales to the Gower Peninsula... This area had been widely recommended to me, Many thanks to those who sent me there. This area is wilder and less populated than what we had seen so far. But as beautiful as the land was, it was impossible to sightsee from the car. The roads are barely one lane wide and extremely twisty plus we had to drive on the left side, so it was hard to divert attention from the road ahead.

And anyway it would have been impossible to see anything because the roads are all bordered by high hedges that block any view. Now that I write this, I wonder if that was an intentional safety consideration, since it really is crucial to keep your eyes glued straight ahead — or as straight as possible on those pretzel roads.

We found a 5000-year old burial mound, which was about a 20-minute walk from the road. Unfortunately, there was a park ranger taking a cigarette break and his truck was marked right next to the mound, which ruined it both visually and energetically for me. We saw what we could see, but it wasn’t spectacular.

Roselli is a tiny village at the very end of the Gower peninsula. There on a high spot overlooking the sea was St. Mary’s cemetery with an old weathered grey stone cemetery. Of all the places I visited, this one was the most evocative of some long lost memory.
I was so happy wandering around in there. So contented and centered. Was my old past life body buried under the ground there?

At Roselli there is a spectacular walk that snakes along the cliffs on the edge of the peninsula. Every step forward offers a different and more dramatic view of the rocks and the sky and the sea. Sure-footed sheep were grazing the grass up and down and around the steep precipices. The wind was wild and it was quite chilly. It was all quite primal. Elemental.

Another site on Gower was what the locals call King Arthur’s Stone. Again, despite it’s being on the map, there was no way to find it. Finally we stopped in a little post office/liquor store and asked. No one seemed to know where it was, but, of course, someone eventually did. And we there — a pull off of the tiny road, which was busy with loose horses and sheep crossing back and forth and hanging out in the middle.

There were several cars and a few caravans parked right in the middle of a cow pasture. Folks were sitting outside on camp chairs reading the evening paper surrounded by large grazing animals strolling about. One of these guys showed me how to find the stones. They were straight ahead across fields filled with stones and cows and cow paddies and mud puddles.

After a walk of about 15 minutes, the pasture ended suddenly at an overlook. We have reached the end of the world — the edge where rock meets sea. There, just to the left, is a huge egg-shaped rock pile, another ancient burial mound. How beautifully situated as a final resting place. And there, just 100 yards or so away, was the first and smallest of three mushroom-like cromlechs we were to see.

This was a burial chamber, as well, but constructed very differently. Balanced about four feet above the ground — seemingly impossibly — on the tips of three vertical standing stones was an oblong oval capstone as large as a queen size bed. Really, just balanced on three small points. And has stayed balanced for 5500 years. Remarkable. Like all cairn of this type, the whole thing was once covered in earth, the rocks being an armature.

What a wonderful site. Two completely different stone monuments, each incredible in its own way. Wonderful ocean views. Just one group of German tourists who left soon after we arrived. Only a couple of curious cows to interrupt my reverie.

To be continued…