West Kennet Long Barrow

The Devil’s Stones

If there’s one thing Wiltshire does well, it’s stuff that’s very, very old. If you want to see structures that were as ancient as the Colusseum is now by the time anyone in Giza had started stacking blocks, Wiltshire is the place to come to. Of course, one such structure stands out above the rest in terms of notoriety but, in the interests of not overplaying our trump card, that particular place will remain unmentioned until the time comes to actually visit it. Instead, this weekend we spent a bright winter morning walking around the biggest stone circle in the country at Avebury.

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What is striking about the site, when compared to many other ancient monuments, is the way in which the world has woven itself into the fabric of the place as opposed to standing off at a safe distance. Thousands of cars travel daily along the busy roads which cut straight through the circles, while the village itself has grown into its midst like a creeping plant working itself through the cracks of a building. This is not necessarily a bad thing though and it once again speaks of the charm in the way Wiltshire displays its past. This is something I have spoken of before, that history here, with the exception of the-place-which-shall-not-be-named, does not hide itself behind barriers or glass cases, it’s just there and you are free to touch, prod, poke and generally experience it as you see fit.

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It was our good fotune that we turned up on one of those rare events, a bright January morning on which the sun shines and the green grass glows against a cobalt blue horizon. But an in-depth account of our wandering is not going to interest anyone, rather it is the story of the place itself which provides the magic here.

While the nearby West Kennet Long Barrow marked a change in human habits from nomads to settlers, Avebury, constructed around 1000 years later, is evidence of advanced agricultural techniques affording people more time for what might be informally termed ‘dicking about’. After all, why waste your day building a whacking great stone circle when you’ve got hunting and gathering to be doing? A farm full of crops allows attention to be directed elsewhere, from which point a pretty direct line can be drawn through the asking of Who, Why and How towards the building of ceremonial monuments to celebrate the religious beliefs which answered those questions.

The exact purpose of Avebury is, inevitably, unclear. If it was born of rudimentary religious beliefs then theories lean more towards appeasing malevolent spirits rather than praising any kind of bountiful deity. It could have geographical, it could have been a site for funeral ceremonies, it could have been astrological. In truth, for all anyone really knows simply shurgging and saying ‘They just got up to some weird shit in those days’ would be no more or less accurate.

Whatever the reason, people tired of it after around 1000 years and during the Iron Age it was laregly ignored, with locals carrying a vague notion that someone, somewhere must have built it but not really giving much thought as to who or why. In around the 14th century things started picking up again, with villagers’ new-found Christian beliefs apparently leading them to believe the stones had been erected by the Devil and therefore had to go.

So down came the stones, pulled from their millenia-old perches and rolled into nearby pits. This is a shame for the purists because now there are small-ish concrete markers where once stood grand megaliths, but viewed through the prism of rampaging villagers it actually makes things more interesting. Wiltshire, remember, does not do pristine, it does real people. A few years into this process of destruction, one large stone fell and landed on top of a man, believed to have been a barber or surgeon, and crushed him. This, the locals felt, was an act of vengeance from the Devil himself and from that point on they shied away from doing any more of the Lord’s work. The crushed man remained in local folklore as late as the 19th century, although by this point more stones were being torn down for building material.

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Today, much like the county’s other ancient monuments, it is viewed as a living temple by practicitioners of modern paganism. Half way around the walk we encountered a tree with assorted ribbons tied to its branches, offerings by visitors who have pilgrimmaged here. Whipping in the wind, the colours seemed incongruous with the rest of the site and we weren’t the only ones to stop and examine them wearing puzzled looks on our faces. Across the road, spiritual offerings are replaced by a goat field, the chewing animals meandering through the ancient stones with all the blank disinterest of an Iron Age villager, gazing up passively as you walk next to them.

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Further round it is the village itself which disects the monument. From here you can visit the museum or, in warmer months, the manor house, the recent restoration of which was the subject of a BBC documentary. Alternatively you can simply carry on enjoying the outside, examining the old stones, walking along the bottom of the even older henge, whose grassy walls rise high up on either side. How you explore is your choice, history is yours to do with as you please.

Cost: Free to walk around the circles. Parking £3 for the day or free to National Trust members.

A Journey to Ancient Wiltshire

Laying his body in its dark chamber, the few tribesmen allowed inside the mound uttered their final words to their chief before returning out into the sunlight where the crowd was gathered. Deep inside a large fire were the bones of their previous leader, being returned to the earth by the heat of the flames. On seeing the elders emerge, the people began to throw flowers and sheaves of wheat onto the pyre before pointing their faces skywards and entering together into the song of the dead.

I’m making up every single word of this, of course; I have absolutely no idea about neolithic burial practices, but then it seems nobody else really does either (although evidence does suggest that bones were removed from their resting places to be used in some sort of ritual). All anybody seems sure of is that the more prominent people had their bodies lain to rest in large, communal chambers, or long barrows as they are known.

The West Kennet Long Barrow is one such place, one of the most famous of its kind. Built a full millennium before anyone in Giza had struck upon the ostentatious idea of grossly oversized pyramids, you can count on one hand the number of existing man-made buildings that are older than this stony chamber in the entire world. The 5,500 year-old structure is part of the Stonehenge and Avebury UNESCO World Heritage Site and marks an important change in human history, the shift away from being nomadic hunter-gatherers to being the inhabitants of fixed agricultural communities. This is people creating permanent buildings for their dead, tying themselves to a specific location for the first time.

My girlfriend and I decided to visit on a warm Sunday morning. Parking is available in a layby on the main road but we chose to use the car park provided a couple of hundred metres further on at the other nearby attraction, Silbury Hill. At 131 feet high, this has the fairly tenuous honour of being the ‘highest man-made prehistoric hill in Europe’ (I’m not sure how much competition there is for that particular title), although quite why man did make it is entirely unknown, despite some educated guesswork. From a visiting point of view, due to a mixture of conservation and health & safety regulations there is very little to do there other than view it from a distance.

Silbury Hill.

Silbury Hill.

Walking little more than a Usain Bolt-esque distance past the hill, you arrive at the bottom of the track towards the Long Barrow. There is no need to be concerned with opening times; the English Heritage website gives the gloriously laissez-faire guideline of ‘any reasonable time during daylight hours’ and entrance is not just free but entirely unregulated.

This track was sprinkled with a steady trickle of visitors making their way over what little of the River Kennet had survived this far into the summer and up the side of a small-ish hill to where the Long Barrow sits prominently on the brow. In complete contrast to Silbury Hill, visitors are more than welcome to wander around, over and inside the burial chamber, although perhaps a little more could be done to provide guidance and information beyond the one sign they have near the entrance.

For the most part it looks from the outside like a long, thin mound of grass which rises up almost inexplicably from the middle of a farmer’s field. People walk along the top of it, as though like they are venturing down the back of a giant crocodile, admiring the panoramic views of the surrounding countryside. While maintained, it is by no means pristine and wild flowers grow over and around it, making it all feel less of a tourist attraction and more the authentic tomb is was built as.

A line of large stones provides a screen that semi-hides the entrance, itself composed of a structure reminiscent of the Stonehenge arches. Inside, the dark stone walls and dirt floor are illuminated by some fairly jarring skylights that have been installed in the roof which, while functional, do little to maintain the illusion of ancient man.

There are four chambers coming off a main passageway which leads to a fifth at the western end. A number of visitors had left small bunches of wheat and flowers on some of the stones, seemingly one of the paganistic rituals that the neolithic landscape still draws to the area. They hint that the site is a place of pilgrimage for the modern druids who come here alongside the more celebrated attractions at Stonehenge and Avebury.

One of many bunches of wildflowers placed on stones within the chamber.

One of many bunches of wildflowers placed on stones within the chamber.

People wandered in, poked their heads into each of the chambers and headed back to the door. In truth there isn’t a huge amount to see or do, people wanting the spectacular will only be disappointed, but there is something fairly remarkable about being in building that has been around longer than almost any other on the planet, somewhere that has seen both flint axes and iPhones as the peak of technology.

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Back outside, and from the top of the mound we looked down towards Silbury Hill and beyond towards where the Avebury stone circles stand. On the slope below us someone had flattened the wheat into a crop circle. All together it provided a vision of what makes this a particularly strange part of the world; the ancient history, the enduring paganism, the ‘mysterious’ crop circles, all largely unrelated and yet somehow feeling part of one timeline. And just a few miles away a new long barrow is currently under construction using the same old methods.

Standing on top of the burial chamber, looking down towards Silbury Hill.

Standing on top of the burial chamber, looking down towards Silbury Hill.

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Perhaps this is why the West Kennet Long Barrow is not cordoned off and kept away from the public, because here ancient history is still somehow current. The past is not sanitised and kept behind glass museum cases but is allowed to continue as part of the same modern life that makes grand patterns in fields and leaves offerings to the ‘earth mother’ in tombs. History is not really history at all. Enter as please, do as you need and be on your way again, just as people have for five and a half millennia.

For our return we chose a path along the tractor lines through the field, pausing briefly as we stood in in the centre of the crop circle. The visit had been short but illuminating, and despite the lack of any real action it should certainly be part of the tour taken by anyone seeking to understand what Wiltshire is truly all about.