Heading further west, we spent four days in the town of Newport on the Pembrokeshire coast. Right on a backstreet of the town in a small lot cordoned off behind a fence there was another, bigger, capstone cairn, or dolmen called Carreg Coetan. This one — which was actually balanced on only two of the four standing stones supporting it — stood way taller than me, perhaps nine feet tall. For some reason, I really liked this one the best. I liked the energy. The privacy. The casual demeanor of the place despite its being so close to civilization. There was just something very sweet about it.
The big, famous cromlech, Pentre Ifan, was about 3 miles outside of town. The scale is astounding. And the audacity, skill, and strength of the folks who made it are mind-boggling. The word “big” does not begin to cut it. This thing was, as they say, ginormous. A huge, towering monument. The capstone alone is16-feet long, 8-feet high, and weighs 16 tons. And it is lightly perched on the fist-sized edges of three stones, each about twelve or so feet tall. It takes your breath away.
But, as I said, this site was famous, and a steady stream of people from all over came and went constantly. It was so hard to have to share this experience. I would have wanted some time to be there alone and quiet. What was worse, were the tourist families with kids who made a racket and attempted to climb the steep standing stones. Aaaarggh! “Come on,” I wanted to say. “This is a burial ground. You wouldn’t let your kids run wild and jump all over the tombstones in a cemetery.” But I swallowed my tongue.
Also nearby — well, nearby is a very relative word in Wales. It was nearby on the map. But on the twisting maze of Welsh backcountry lanes, it took forever. Lost again, looking for an ancient stone circle that I knew was hidden in a field right around there somewhere, we tried to find someone to ask but there was no one about. I finally saw a sign for a pottery studio and assuming someone would be there, we turned off the road to inquire. I found someone and don’t you know that the very site we were searching for was right there in the field behind the house!
Gors Fawr, a circle about 70 feet in diameter, is composed of16 low stones. It was way off in the field and hard to see because the stones are so small, only a couple of feet high, and the grass was so high. Not to mention the sheep wandering all about. It was a perfect stone circle day — grey, misty, foggy, drizzly, moody weather. The precipitation made everything seem so intimate plus it insured that there would be no other visitors. That, alone, was a majorly great thing.
On one of the rocks I found an offering made from a y-shaped stick wrapped in sheep wool. It looked very like the yoni amulets that I make.
How strange and how familiar. There was also a scorched circle fire pit in the center. Clearly this ancient ceremonial site is still used for ceremonies. Though much less dramatic than the giant cromlechs, the
energy in this large circle of small stones was palpably sacred.
Just down the road the landscape turned into wild moors. These wide open spaces were wild and windy. In the distance were the Priseli Peaks where the bluestone for Stonehenge was quarried. Imagine that feat. Cutting huge slabs of rock. Hauling them down from the mountains. Carrying them overland and across water for 200 miles — all by hand and back. Then setting them up. How the hell did they manage?
I’ll tell you, all those stones are so energetic that I bet they just walked themselves over to Wilshire County and arranged themselves in a ceremonial sister circle. And whenever no one is looking, they dance!
To be continued…
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