Throwing Sticks: Hornbeam Hunter.

This would seem to be the year of the Hornbeam for me, they seem to be everywhere I look so far.

Their leaves are fabulous as they unfurl from writhing wood, as are their catkins and later their winged seeds.

I discovered a huge one that had surrendered it vertical status to the late winter winds,  but which was throwing out buds with merry abandon. A few of it’s branches had shattered during the fall as they took the weight and momentum of the large boughs and trunk.  One such branch had come off in a zig zagged shape and just screamed to be made in to something.

Over the years I have seen numerous museum and TV examples of throwing sticks in a range of shapes and styles.  Commonly you’d find heavy ended straight lengths,  ball ended sticks, s shaped lengths and curved sticks (like the boomerangs).

The stick that would be thrown (right)

The basic principle of the stone age, and before, tool was that it could be thrown from a distance away from the target and, upon impact, either kill or stun. When thrown in to a reed bed full of roosting birds, or at those in flight, or distracted rabbits, squirrels and other small game, you’d be more easily able to secure some nourishing meat than without a stick. Over the course of history these sticks often became dual purpose and refined from fallen branches in to aerodynamic devices that double up as clubs (to finish off a stunned creature or end a human on human scrap), and in some cases digging sticks for extracting starch rich tubers.

In the seeing of these simple but often cleverly adapted tools I caught a bit of inspiration and have decided to make a series of these sticks to see what I can learn.

As well as a S shaped stick I plan on making a lead ended club (1800s poacher style), a knobbed stick (similar to a shillelagh,  but more throw friendly), a rounded knobbed club, a heavy ended straight stick and possibly a few of varying curvature too.

This particular blog post deals with an ‘s’ shaped stick. In examples I’ve seen they tend to be closer to uneven ended z shaped, although some are fully curved s shapes.

To make this I took the zigzag length of 8cm diameter  green hornbeam  and, using a knife, took off enough bark and wood to give it a flat top and bottom with a thickness of around 3.5cm.

From there I squared off the remaining barked edges so as to give a piece even in width and depth along the length.

After this it was simply a case of bevelling the edges down so as to leave the sides with a smaller surface (for  greater impact pressure per square inch and ergo greater damage potential.

As I worked I noted the likely impact spots – the ends and the ‘corners’of the zigzag S shape. These I left a touch thicker and sharper – if I ever use this in a real life hunting event I want to give as quick an end as possible. Although I don’t plan on using it in anything living, other than in a survival situation.

I also wanted to moderate how the tool flew when thrown. With one end shorter,  but almost equal in weight,  it will whip round rather than curl, meaning it will keep a straighter flight path for longer.

Added to this I decided that it would be thrown with the right hand holding  the longer end with the elbow of the stick bending towards my shoulder. This would give a directional bias that would see the stick curve towards the left in flight. So, leaving the outside (right) of the middle section thicker, and therefore heavier, meant that the stick would hold straighter for a right handed thrower.

Heavier ends.

A dry, a sand and several coats of oil and the stick was ready to go.

Most historical references suggest a stick as thick as your wrist and between 45cm and 60cm long  to be ideal, but this one comes out heavy because of the choice of wood and so it’s dimensions are a more practical size and a little thinner than anecdotally recommended.

After a few trial throws I set two friends loose with it too. It flew straight and landed on the designed points (ends and corners) for all of us, meaning my grasp of basic physics is obviously pretty good!

I also took it back to the parent tree and.spoke with it about what I had done with it’s wood. It seemed pretty happy with the result, as am I.

Revisiting the parent tree.

Keep an eye out for future sticky adventures if you’ve enjoyed this blog.

To keep up to date with my crafting and more follow me on Instagram.

Floral Cordial: Flowering Currant Syrup.

Sweet and curranty

Those who have followed my blog for a while now will know that I am a keen forager with a taste for trying the more unusual or unknown.

Even experienced foragers can miss out on the almost transcendental bounties of the seemingly insubstantial things that are flowers.

They often appear in a flurry and then vanish as soon as they’re noticed, certainly before the foraging basket comes out.

Many of them are indeed insubstantial and are akin to eating small, crisp sheets of tissue with an occasional hit of nectar gracing the tongue.

Then there are some that are tougher than they seem and will hold up to a battering and should be made in to fritters (see this blog on Black Locust flowers).

While the flowering currant is a more substantial flower when taken as a full raceme, they also offer us a good amount of aromatics, meaning that they make a good syrup or cordial too.

A raceme of flowers

Ribes sanguineum, originates in the western States of North America but has found a home in a number of countries across the globe.

Introduced to Britain by David Douglas in the form of seeds sent back from the US in 1826 this plant has been a long valued beauty in early spring. It’s often found as a stalwart of aging council municipal planting schemes, yet, here in the UK, it doesn’t set nearly as much fruit as it’s relatives the black and red currant, unless in particularly favourable conditions.

This isn’t a bad thing here as the fruit are a touch insipid… and can lead to rampant invasion in some areas (it’s classed as a weed in New Zealand for example).

To make the most of fragrant flowers I like to make cordials or wines.

How to:

Here I gathered around 45 racemes from a willing specimen and, as a thank you, I struck 6 or 7 cuttings from it and placed them in the soil of a clearing near by; they root easily and will grow well unless hit by misfortune.

In hindsight I should probably have doubled gentle number of flowers picked as the syrup is only mildly perfumed despite the strong floral scent.

The donor

In well drained, drier soils the flowers can be incredibly pungent, so assess where you’re gathering your flowers from and how strong they are/ how strong you want the final taste to be.

The 45 racemes were popped in the bottom of a lidded pan and covered with 2 litres of piping hot (not quite boiling) water. They were left there, in the lidded pan for around 15 hours. The lid helps trap condensation which migh otherwise carry away the aromatic oils that give the flowers their characteristic scent.

The mixture was then strained of the flowers before being heated to a gentle simmer on the stove top. Then taken off the heat and an equal weight of sugar added to the amount of water (1ml of water weighs 1 gram).

It is possible to make a low sugar version of this using half or even a quarter of the amount of sugar I used, but my way makes a full syrup that should store for a long time, even out of the fridge. Less sugar would mean a shorter shelf life and possibly an accidental wine.

While the liquid reached simmering point I cleaned out four 750ml bottles and dug out a funnel.

Once bottled up it should now last for as long as we need it to and, could be added to more liquid and other flavours to ferment in to something alcoholic.

Let me know if you give this a try, and especially if you do it differently to me

To keep up to date with my crafting and foraging follow me on Instagram.

A beautiful colour in reused Rocks Organic squash bottles.

Stones Stacked Skywards

It has long been a fashionable activity among the spiritually and naturally inclined to stack stones. Indeed I’ve posted about it before.

Stones hold long memories, gaining stories as they are worn away via erosion. Experts can, by a quick study, tell the approximate age and origins of a given rock, but, for many of our kind they’re simply just big bits of hard stuff; devoid of any exciting facts unless shiny and deemed valuable.

For many who are drawn to connect with the natural world there exists strong urges to handle and explore these lumps of the Earth. Yet, often the handling is done without thought for the locally ecological importance of these stones. For many it’s simply an opportunity to get an artsy image for social media.

I have done just that in the past myself, it’s been a part of my learning as I explored the creation of honouring rituals to the Earth and local spirits. Today, I know a little more and honour the landscape differently by imposing some regulations on myself around what stones I use.

Working in the ecological field, I have been blessed by many opportunities to examine, up close, some of the smaller denizens of this world. Underneath a rock can be a whole existential realm for hundreds of creatures.

I want to share, with you, my self imposed regulations and the reasons behind them. Where and why I deem it OK to create temporary skyward stacks from materials that have seen comparative eternity.

I’ll start off with those areas to consider leaving alone:

– Cairns and ancient landscapes. It’s often so tempting to build tiny temples out of stacked stones when in a landscapes where the Ancestral population have already done so, but there are often many, less obvious layers of history in the stones that are apparently just lying around. Cairns themselves often serve as homes or hibernation sanctuaries for small mammals and invertebrates that won’t appreciate being blocked by a misplaced stone. Rocks on the ground are often the rooftop lids that keep invertebrate eggs moist and form insulating caps for insect tunnels.

– Moorland, clifftops and established scree. These I leave alone for much the same reasons as above, but with the added risk of the destruction of habitats through moving lodged, or precariously pinned together rocks on a scree slope.

Tiny snails on a river rock

– River beds and woodland. The stones in a riverbed aren’t often naturally disturbed in such a way that leaves stones drying outside of the water, or stacked heavily on their largest surfaces. Many fish and invertebrates rely on river stones to safeguard their, often tiny, eggs and young. Being dried out or crushed between rocks doesn’t encourage a good population for those unfortunate species. Creatures like leeches, flatworms, hoglice or tiny river limpet might live their whole lives under a rock or two. Much the same is true (apart from the fish) for rocks that are longterm residents of the woodland floor. These creatures might seem insignificant or even unpleasant to some, but they’re the world to their own kind and a valuable part of the riparian and sylvestrian ecosystems.

– Field walls or ruins. The broken vestiges of human artifice often house a surprising diversity of species. Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it’s not there, or, that you were looking for the right signs. Some rare mosses, lichens and other flora can only be found in or on old stone walls where the accidental creation of a perfect microclimate found its way in to being.

0

Stones in a flat cairn creating a microclimate

– Unsafe places. It might look aesthetically pleasing, but stacking stones above a foot path, or even from a foot path, or in high and windy places above access points is just not a great idea for obvious reasons. Sadly I have seen a lamb mangled by fallen stones from someone’s stone play on top of a wall next to an access gate. It wasn’t pretty and had evidently suffered a lot, being partially paralysed and having their eyes pecked out by corvids while still alive. There’s no reason to be thoughtless when making a stack

So…. you might be thinking that there’s not much opportunity left and you’re somewhat right. Then again, we belong to the world, not it to us. Recognising environmental limitations or bad ideas isn’t a strong point for most of our species… but trying won’t hurt you.

My ‘go ahead’ areas are those areas that sees constant, or recent disturbance from the natural world. Perhaps stones recently cast from a landslide that aren’t keeping anything secure, or, as here, those sea tossed pebbles that are on the sea strand, or, where the structure is intended to last a long time and provide more benefits than destruction; enhancing or creating habitats that support diversity of species.

To me the act of stone stacking is done out of respect for the place and to mark a place as honoured. That gives me all the more incentive to carefully think about the stones I’m using and to examine each one so as to minimise ecological damage at the least and to create a benefit at best.

The stones that the sea tussles in the tides each day are unlikely to be chosen to house eggs or homes for the majority. Obviously, it’s a good idea to avoid the more permanent feature rocks that make up rock pools or those that provide a home for seaweeds or other marine plants.

These tide tossed rocks are those in a state of flux and are essentially liminal. Liminal materials for ephemeral/liminal shrines that will be knocked over in due time – in liminal space.

To keep up to date with all my tinkerings follow me on Instagram

Imbolc Fire Scrying using Christmas tree foliage

A couple of days ago I came across an abandoned Christmas tree in the empty garden a few doors down from us. I jumped on the chance to grab it and hack up it’s still leafy corpse for dark and macabre magical purposes….

…..Ok, I admit, it’s a less nefarious story than I make out, but, it is to use in an ancient form of augury: fire scrying.

There’s a video link at the bottom of this blog post, but I’ll outline the basics here for those who prefer reading to simply watching.

Fire scrying is an easy form of divination that many people start to do accidentally while meditating by candlelight, or, often, after having had too much to drink or smoke around a campfire.

In short it’s allowing the conscious mind to fade out and the subconscious to take hold of the shape and flow of smoke and flame.

The hardest part of this is trusting your intuition enough to form some prophecy or insight.

It’s important to remember that augury is as much about divining the nature of a matter in the present as it is about foretelling, and, that all that is foretold is only accurate until situations change. In other words foretelling is more about the most likely outcome, or the path of least resistance, than it is about absolutes set in stone.

I will do a more detailed video and post on the topic of fire scrying and several folklore traditions involving it, in the coming weeks, all being well.

For this post I wanted to discuss the reuse of a resource that many have access to at this time of year and a way to make the current covid19 enforced lockdown a touch more magical.

Many of today’s western pagan folk are raised in the somewhat secular and somewhat Christian parent culture and as such like to keep hold of traditions like that of the Christmas tree, often turned back in to the Yule tree, as was the origin of the tradition.

It’s a better choice to have a potted tree that can be planted out or reused in a bigger pot after it has served it’s purpose in the yuletide home. Yet, many trees are sold cut, or are neglected water wise, and ultimately they dry out in the Christmas home and are discarded. If you’re not giving your tree to a collection service that uses them to stabilise sand dunes etc then it’s a good idea to trim it up for a ritual fire.

While in the home the tree gives up it’s life to serve the family, in doing so it inevitably absorbs some of the family energies. This gives it a strong links to those ot has been essentially sacrificed for and as such it becomes useful for family/household augury.

The foliage, cut to around 6 inch (15cm) lengths, can be a useful tool when applied to flame or hot coals.

As said above, the trees often dry out significantly in our centrally heated homes, but, once trimmed to length and left in a dry place to further dehydrate, the foliage will go up like tinder by the time Imbolc roles around.

Fir, pine and spruce are often bunched together when it comes to their ascribed magical attributes. Those attributes being that, as evergreens, they hold a place of balance, a benchmark pointing the here and now. Climbing them can give us a glimpse of the permanent, or, allows us to look forward, around and behind with eyes unfettered by hope and fear that linger in our present.

They are also resin rich and, once dry, they become a pyromanic’s wet dream. They burst in to noisy flames that crackle, pop, hiss and writhe. In the days of candle light many trees have tried to matyr themselves by catch fire and scorching family homes. Modern LED lights don’t cause such traumatic yuletide memories anywhere near as often, or as brutally.

Tonight, the 13th January, marks 19 days before Imbolc and the ‘coming of Bride’, or the return of the power of Bridgit.

Bridgid, as goddess and saint, has a lot of strings to her bow, but one of the most potent is that associated with fire and the forge. Flame marks the return of the green living fire of Spring and the first of the birthing of the year’s lambs.

In tradition Bridgid has a sacred flame and that is tended by 19 priestesses. This is one of the factors that leads some of her followers to hold a 19 day vigil or devotional that culminates with Imbolc.

There are numerous traditional practices for those who celebrate Imbolc and Bridgid’s strength returning. Fire is involved in many of these. I plan to do more blogs around these traditions in coming days.

How to get scrying….

* Trim your bushy beast (ahem) of a tree and leave to dry if it’s still too flexible. Brittle leaves indicate a greater dryness.

* Light a fire in your woodburner or a safe fire pit/chimenea/barbecue and allow a decent ember bed or bed of hot coals to develop. Cast a circle or create sacred space if you wish.

* Call upon Bridgid to bless your fire and grant it the power to offer prophecy and augury.

* Once the flames have stopped, but the embers are still hot use a poker or stick to level the embers and ashes, thereby removing the mounded hot spots.

* Cast your trimmings upon the embers and, while they smoke, let your mind ease in to a trance like state. Ask your questions, if you have any defined. Be concise but clear if you want a clearer answer.

* Watch the smoke dance, note where the fire first catches, see the movement of flames and the shapes and stories they tell. Watch how the embers fall or move. Listen to the fire and your intuition. Find meaning here.

* If nothing jumps out at you then try again.

* Importantly, try not to soil yourself if the flames arrive with a sudden roar! It really distracts from the mystical act of divination.

Sometimes filming a fire and rewatching it makes themes more noticeable, but, herein lies danger. Our minds are pattern seeking by their ape nature, and, the ability to pause or watch something again enables us to recognise more patterns. It’s therefore far better to be in the moment rather than to enable our minds to trick us in to seeing meaning that isn’t teally there in the ink stain, if you will.

Watch the video here

Before we move in to three ascending awens, I ask you all to take a breath and allow your thoughts to reach in to the cauldron of the mind for a moment.

We stand together in our grove, but not all who should be here could be. This is also true in our wider lives.

The world of humankind has gone a little topsy turvy this year and many have been lost. Many more struggle onwards in this present moment, suffering abounds amidst the joy of the season, and, masks of bravery are worn as much as those of truck or treaters.

In your thoughts I ask that you reach out now to your ancestors and the spirits around you. Ask that they ease the suffering of those in need, sooth the peaks of pain, if felt, and bless those on the flat of the knife in need as well as those who find themselves on the knife edge between life and death. May the Awens we sing bring inspiration to our spiritual helpers and Ancestors to bring the peace we request. May those under the shadow of ill health feel no fear of the dark night, but find comfort in the softness of the dark soil that awaits the seeds of their new beginnings.

May those with poor health now find swift recovery; shedding  their illnesses like falling leaves and be touched by the brightness  of the autumnal dawn.

The awen is sung in three syllables as oo and wen … let us start one after the other …

Black Locust – Eating A Toxic Invader

Black Locust (Robinia pseudoacacia) is a native of the Appalacian mountains of North America yet it thrives in most lands it has been introduced to.

The tree was introduced to the UK in 1636 and can now be found hidden in plain sight in many parks, municipal borders and even deep in some semi natural ancient woodlands. In many woodlands it’s overlooked by all who do not look for it – slipping in to the subconscious as if simply a native Ash.

Given it’s name by Jesuit missionaries due to its likeness to its relative the Spanish Locust, otherwise known as the carob tree, the Black Locust is actually much more toxic.

A member of the pea family and also leguminous, this tree fixes it’s own nitrogen in the soil, suckers like mad and produces an abundance of seeds – added to the the vicious thorns it can grow if grazed or pruned and you end up with a formidable tree.

The tree bears straight-ish main trunks with often zig-zagged branches and deeply furrowed grey bark.

In many areas (including states within its home country) the Black Locust is considered to be incredibly invasive.

However, as with many invasives they are often very useful in other ways. In this case the wood is outstandingly longlasting in the soil, even if untreated.

The heart wood has such a high level of flavinoids in it that it can last in the soil for a century! That’s a long time for a fence to last!

There are few snippets of folklore associated with this tree – one of which suggests that under the Black Locust is where one should bury secrets. I wonder if this originally meant under the timber and not under the tree – after all, a body or item buried under a century lasting fence post wouldn’t be discovered for a long time! No one would have need to disturb it…

The grain is often straight in the upright trunks and although fresh wood has an unpleasant and bitter odour (like if excessive tannins in bad red wine were a smell). This scent fades as it’s aged. These qualities are leading many furniture merchants to consider this wood instead of rare tropical imports – easier on the planet and the pocket.

That straight grain, dense wood and readiness to coppice also makes this tree an ideal firewood – even one that will burn while still green.

Like many trees which are relatives of the pea and bean, many of their parts will kill you if you eat them.

In this case almost all of the plant is toxic – when eaten by horses it requires immediate veterinary treatment and causes depression, cardiac arrhythmia, colic and incontinence…. I wouldn’t recommend you find out what it does to a human… unless you have a salad loving enemy.

There is, however, one part of the plant traditionally eaten – the freshly opened flowers.

These are beautiful and have a mint/citrus / bleach kind of smell and are picked and separated from all green bits apart from the small flower stalk before being eaten.

These flowers are also the primary source of ‘acacia honey’ in France (despite it’s scientific name outing it as a ‘false acacia’). The varying presence of the quantity of flowers annually means that only around one in five years gives a good honey crop.

There are some reports that the seeds are also edible. … but I find more reports that they are rather toxic…. so use caution if trying.

The flowers are only available for a little over a week each May/June are either eaten raw or fried in batter – see recipe below. This is seasonal eating at its finest.

Black Locust Flower Fritters

– Pick only the freshly opened flowers and take all green parts off other than the small stalks that attach to the flowers.

– mix a thick sweet batter – flour, water ( or milk), sugar and an optional egg, plus a little nutmeg or similar if you like.

– pour the batter on the flowers and stir in well until they are covered.

– Place spoonfuls of the mixture in to hot oil and cook until browned on both sides (a minute or two per side).

– Lift out with a slotted spoon and set to drain excess oil on a towel or paper.

– Dust with sugar and eat…. say ‘nom nom nom.’

– Congratulate yourself for not eating the toxic bits before panicking that you left too much stalk on and maybe you did eat the toxic bits….

– Enjoy a second time if you picked the right bits 🙂

Those daring enough to try should remember that they are eating flowers and thus preventing seeds of an invasive species forming as well as eating a food known to Native Americans for centuries but thousands of miles apart.

I hope you are all daring enough – go on…. be adventurous.

Sea Gooseberries. .. more than they seem…

Having heard of these little globules  over the past few years, I has a chance to see them in the flesh for the first time a couple of weekends ago.

While on Angelsey for the first weekend of the Angelsey Druid Order’s training weekend  of 2017, I wandered down to Lligwy  beach.  On previous  visits I had found shells from Pilgrims Scallops and even tiny abalone shells, potentially  from areas as far away as Mexico. As well as funnel web spiders and orchids alongside other wildflowers  on the walk down to the beach.

On this visit more treasures turned up  such as a hermit crab and rock fused oyster. Yet, more amazingly, the sandy shore and rocky outcrops were filled with scores of small jelly like globes.

These fascinating and transparent  creatures are known as Sea Gooseberries  and are part of a group of organisms known as Ctenophora and are a group of animals similar in nature to the jellyfish. 

Although they look to be nothing more than ridged clear jelly at first glance,  when one looks closer they will see fine red threads at the heart of the critter and grooved ribs along its outer surface. 

In some species these ribs and the ‘threads’ inside are able to glow and flicker; attracting prey via bioluminescence. (Check out the videos of sea gooseberries  feeding on YouTube).

What we can’t  see out of the water and with the naked eye are the feeding strands, known as combs. These combs are used to filter plankton, fish and crustacean larvae from the sea – some species can consume more than their body weight on tiny organisms each day.
With such an appetite, these tiny critters can have a drastic effect on fish populations. A couple of species were introduced  to the Black and Azoz seas much to the detriment of the local fish stocks. 

Obviously,  in my wonderment,  I picked a few of these beauties up for a closer look and a photograph  or two. After  that,  they were dropped  in to a large rock pool to await the returning sea. This revealed  another wonder from this marvellous  creature….they disappeared  from sight as soon as they went in to the water! 

What with them being 99% water, that shouldn’t  surprise  me, but it didn’t  half  make me smile 🙂

Yet another example of the wonders of the natural world around us.

Jellyfish, dogfish babies and bryozoa at Blackpool

All too often we get used to our immediate  surroundings and take them for granted, but when we take the  time  to look at what’s  under our nose we can make fantastic  discoveries.

I often have the pleasure  of  workin in varied locations. Today’s work was up in North Blackpool,  from there I nipped down  the shoreline to work in the Blackpool office a couple of miles away.

Whenever  I work anywhere  with a beach I try to grab some time  on the sand…. beaches are dynamic  and changeable  places which can hold a treasure trove one day and nought but smooth sand the next depending  upon the tide’s haul. 

The last two times I’ve  ventured on to the beach in Blackpool I’ve  been  amazed at what I’ve found. 

Last Wednesday, after high and stormy winds, I discovered  a beach full of shells – from large specimens  of hard shelled clams to vast numbers of turret shells and a few delicate but beautiful  Common Wendletrap shells, minature Murix and Pelicans foot shells.

All those amidst a  carpet of razor clams, mussels and cockles which created a crunchy chorus underfoot, complimenting the rolling waves.

The shore today was far smoother – a week later and all but a spattering  of shells have returned  beneath  the waves, maybe never to be seen  again.

However,  other oddities  graced the sands… delicate seaurchins, many crumbling  at the touch, we’re the first to catch my eye.

Followed by the sheer number of crab bits from various  species.  All washed up amidst long tangles of seaweed. The weather, or an under sea current  had obviously  stirred up the seabed well.

As a sure sign that the depths were truly disturbed; the unusual  sight of what appeared to be breadcrumbless chicken nuggets, some wrapped around seaweed  and betwixt dogfish egg cases. 

These turned out to be bryozoa – colonies of tiny sea animals  which form jelly, or in this case meaty, round growths, like soft coral, which usually  stay well off shore.

There a brief video of some here..

Add to that the sight of a baby dogfish still in the egg case, washed ashore amidst weed but still vitally alive. 

This was a wonder to see… an embryonic  dogfish thrashing around inside the case which will welcome it to this world. 

Obviously,  being beached isn’t particular  conducive to the health of a baby dogfish. Left alone it’d  simply ‘boil in the bag’ under a warm sun.

See a not always in focus video of the dogfish to be here.

As such, I did my best to return the pod to the water with a good throwing arm put in to use. Hopefully  the waves will take it back out to deeper waters and give it a chance at at long and healthy life.

And as one last point of interest a few different  types of  beached jellyfish, also returned to the sea.

Blackpool is an area which hardly conjures up thoughts of wild biodiversity, but with a curious eye and a willingness to slow down, a lot can be seen in a what would often be dismissed as a dead zone.

Why not go out and look at what’s  around you? Reclaim  those places you take for granted.

An Cathair Cubh Dearg – The Fort Of The Red Claw

In May of 2016 I was fortunate enough to visit the Republic of Ireland with my partner at the time. I’ve yet to write up much of what was seen in that trip and I’m starting to get a bit of a back log!

I’ve previously written about Gurteen stone circle and the lone Gurteen Menhir that stands in a near by field.  Today’s post will be a quick one to detail a trip to An Cathair Cubh Deargh in County Kerry. (See location here)

Locally known as ‘The City’ this ruined site sits 7ooft above sea level and in the foothills of The Two Paps mountains. The Two Paps are also known as the Paps of Danu and their name is thought to be a reference to an ancient Irish Goddess, Danu (or Danann or Anu or Dana) who leaves little lore behind her. Yet who may well be a form of an even more ancient water Goddess connected to the River Danube.
In this case though, she is often thought of as one of the mothers of the Tuatha De Dannan which means ‘The Tribe Of the Gods Of Danu’. In Irish lore Danu is the mother of the majority of the Irish Gods, but is herself, the daughter of the good and mighty God Dagda.

These hills are rich in cairns and possible tombs and some can even be seen atop the mountains; appearing to be the nipple on the breast.

The setting was not, however, the reason for paying a visit to the site. The City was thought to be the first place to be settled in Ireland and has seen thousands years of continuous worship held upon it’s soils!  Which makes it an amazing place for cultural heritage in the West. It’s a wonder to think of all of the ways in which that worship alone has changed.

However, the site has nought but a few notice boards and is accessed by a steep and country track like road in the middle of a cluster of farm like buildings. On approach, we thought we must’ve taken a wrong turn and so i nipped out of the car to, unintentionally, loom over a small and geriatric Irish man in order to ask for directions. At first glance the site would appear to be a ruined barn, or outbuildings, if one wasn’t looking for it.

Those notice boards are crammed with information though, and on them it can be seen that An Cathair Cubh Dearg translates to ‘The fort of the red claw’. The Red Claw is thought to refer to a war Goddess of ancient times and might even link in to a past far more ancient than can be easily told.

In ancient times, An Cathair Cubh Dearg was surrounded by a wall of mounded stones, over three metres tall and four metres wide. Some of this is visible today and the site has a clean but holy sensation to it’s air.

The site has a central well spring, stabilised in concrete in more modern times and with cups laying around the area for any to use. The water tastes beautiful, in case you are wondering, although the relatively close proximity of cowpats did give me cause to pause for a moment.

In fact, it’s absolutely wonderful to see that this hidden site is so well used. There are rosary beads and clootie ribbons around the place and deep grooves in the shape of  crosses that have been worn in by the rubbing of a stone from worshipful folk over the years.

In ancient times, Danu and other goddesses were doubtless worshiped on this site. It’s even been postulated that the site has developed several times – with the first incarnation being that of a sacred Neolithic mound.  Over time the site has been developed and enhanced by the artifice of clever hands and the Virgin Mary now holds court in The Fort Of The Red Claw, as testified to by a brightly coloured statue.

One of the notice boards tells of the the festival of Beltane, in which fires were burned and offerings made to the Gods to seek fertility and good luck. A festival which now would seem to be overtaken by the May Day Rounds.

The May Day Rounds, however, include such things as walking around the outside of the fort thrice and more within it – something that some practitioners of modern day witchery might recognise; certainly those who have looked in to the christianised forms of traditional witchcraft should see some parallels in how it’s done. Despite the number three being held sacred by the Christian faith, I can’t help but be titillated by the idea that the Rounds could be mirroring a pagan practice, even if only in where the feet of worshipers tread at the time of Beltane.

Go On, Get Lost!

On recent walks and events it’s been brought to my attention that I often find myself lost. Now, you might think that this is a bad thing, but it’s not always.

Maybe it’s not the best practice when leading a group walk to not know where you are going; with all the threats of danger and accidents and savagely wild hedgehogs that are just longing to get a grip on your throat the moment you stumble! (Ok… I admit it,  the part about savage hedgehogs is a slight fabrication on my part… I felt an urge to make British wildlife sound as fearsome as that in lands such as Australia. In reality, it’s much cudlier.)

Certainly when leading a walk as part of my job, or for a session I’m leading with any pretension of professionalism, the route is always walked in advance, risk assessments done and dangers minimised where possible.
For most Witchish Walks, I’ve visited the site before or at the very least taken a look on Google Maps to make sure that there is actually a route that can be taken (rather than a hop, skip and a jump in to oblivion with people following me).

In this post, though, I want to defend the art of getting lost.

‘Art?,’ I hear you say.

Art indeed. In today’s world there are many ways to not be lost at all, unless it’s in the time stealing dimensions of social media.
Many people have a miniature computer in their pocket that can connect to satellites, and guide an intrepid explorer right to an ancient site… all while taking photographs and chatting to a friend on the other side of the world.
If not that then maps are at hand, or the ever present sound of traffic and sights of urban sprawl eating in to the countryside. You’re not truly lost if you can find out where you are… bu you could still be lost enough.

It’s my firm belief (or pleasant fantasy at least), that there are invisible and  hidden doorways in to other realms that can be only be accessed by getting thoroughly unsure of your bearings.
In a city these doorways might be side streets that you find as you take a failed attempt at a shortcut. A shortcut that opens your eyes to a fancy bistro and a beautiful person’s smile, or an intriguing looking shop with the heavy smell of exotic incense floating though it’s open doors. Perhaps you spy, as you walk, an open green space filled with sumptuously green grass, stately trees and colourful flowerbeds. A space that shouldn’t be there, smack bang in the middle of the city.

Sometimes we are too busy rushing to be seduced in to experiencing the wonders of these stores, spaces and the charming smile of the dark haired stranger whose eyes spark with a hunger, The one who sits alone at the Bistro table seemingly waiting for you to join them.
Sometimes we miss out on opportunities that can flavour our lives forever more.

‘Why do we miss out on them?,’ I hear you ask intrigued.

We miss out on them because these little pockets of wonder can never be found again. No matter how many times you try to find the short cut and it’s shops, no matter how many times you look at where you traversed on the map, often there is no sign of a heavenly park. Or no sign of the Bistro or beguiling shop.

And then we are left longing. Wondering if we imagined it after all? Wondering whether or not we wasted a world of riches in our haste to find our way to a destination?

Sometimes we’ll catch the scent of heavy, exotic incense  on the breeze as we near the place that we cannot find again…. and we almost mourn that which we could’ve known more sensually.

Now, I’m the first to admit that my sense of direction isn’t always the best. I navigate mostly by trees and memories of foraged foods. Yet there are some places that seem to make no sense to me at all. Places like Rivington Terraced Gardens, near Chorley, which has many routes up and down and which I always think I’m somewhere else when I’m on a connecting path.
Rivington leads me astray. It’s not quite pixie led, but it’s a dreamscape to my mind which scatters my sense of direction to the wind like loosened feathers knocked free as a hawk snatches a songbird from flight .

Rivington is part of the moorland upon which lies many ancient remains. Up on those moorlands I’ve found myself more than a bit lost before, but because of my being lost I’ve discovered things that would’ve been truly hidden from me had I gone another way.

Sometimes these lost spaces yield up a treasure that I’ve been searching for – a sheep skull here, a carved rock there, a stone circle or a gargantuan tree.

I learned many years ago to allow myself to get lost; to find the spaces that sit between the known and unknown… and to explore them fervently.

An example: Borsdane woods is a long scar of a semi natural ancient woodland. If one enters through the Tunnel Entrance found at the top of Hindley, and alongside the Graveyard, then the woods extend in front of you and to the left a little as well.
One of my first solo trips to Borsdane woods saw me scrambling along a muddy track in the late winter mists.  I went perhaps 500 metres in to he woods, crossed over the small brook and turned back on myself for at least a mile.

That mile heading back toward the tunnel, but on the far side of the stream should have taken me over a railway line and through fencing and brought me out further than the farthest boundary of the grave yard.

Instead, I found myself stood in a wide open woodland staring at the largest tree I’ve ever seen with my own eyes. An ancient looking beech with a trunk that could swallow a small cottage.

The mist was thick, the pull towards the leafless tree strong and centuries of beech mast and leaves crumpling and crunching under foot.

Now, this happened ten years ago – I had neither a camera nor a phone frequently on my person back then, so I have no pictures of this beautiful tree. I know I could retrace every step… if only the path was there again for me to find.

I spent plenty of time with that tree, as druids do. I walked back out the same way I had come in.  It was when I reached the tunnels again that I realised something wasn’t quite right about my experience. There is no section of woodland where I walked that day. There is no behemoth beech tree there. There has been no way back either.

Nowadays I put a map marker via Google Maps when I find somewhere worth returning to.  There have been times when I have returned to the very spot, only to find it far from how it was last experienced, mind you.

In a less ethereal manner, the simple act of being lost means you open your eyes wider, you listen more intently and you find interesting stuff that would’ve never even become a memory for you had you not found yourself in a quandary.

By straying off the beaten path, by letting yourself get a little lost there is so much to discover.

As a second example, today, I went for a short walk, looking to take a few pictures for this blog post. I strayed of the beaten track and was rewarded with an odd find in Wigan. A terrapin (?) shell amidst the fallen leaves.

Probably the final remains of someone’s pet which perished after being released in to the water at Low Hall Nature reserve …. but an interesting curio for me now.

So… if you go down to the woods to day, or over the moor, or tread a valley path … take a few extra provisions, put away the phone and GPS until you need it. Give yourself an extra hour or two…. and let yourself get lost.

Or maybe you are taking a shortcut or exploring a town or city… why not see what you can stumble upon and embrace it if it’s a soon to be lost treasure?

We can accrue much in this life, but one experience can be more valuable than millions in the bank or a new and fashionable bathroom suite.

Or maybe, you’ll find yourself lost in a conversation; maybe you’ll take a different meaning than was meant and maybe that will open up a new thought, a new possibility and from that moment of being lost you might discover the world as an oyster at your fingertips. Either that or you might find yourself in an argument.

There’s an art to getting lost. There’s an art to working with your own vulnerability and find much more than you sought.

So take the rough and narrow path, follow your nose and strike out towards the thing that caught your eye… go where you do not know.

However you do it. Wherever you do it. Whoever you do it with…. Please GET LOST! 🙂