I can safely say i've had my fill of stone for what has resulted in an epic weekend which would have rivalled the search for bridge in scale and sheer randomness had it come sooner. Not only has it ticked off 3 entries from the good book it has delighted in exceeding my expectations for 2 of the 3 activites.
First off after the Friday shambles which was the 11 blokes in white against Algeria in football was dry stone walling. A fathers day present from me and the other old one, this was our chance to continue to show dad there is more to life than football and ceefax. In a way, Rooney and the rest of the shower had done us a favour, football was well and truly swept aside for the weekend. Destination Nailsea near Bristol, a droplet in the ocean of a place, home to what seemed a solitary set of traffic lights, 2 golf courses and a resteraunt with a waiting list the Ivy would be envious of. Team J eventually found our camp site, a setting i'm quite convinced dad is more than happy in being in aside from the morning chill that seems to hit whatever the season. Tents up, and 2nd destination found without the inevitable rowing, always a bonus. The place wass gloriously spartan, the portaloo or hole in the ground was accessible via the nettles. After a brew it was off to the walling site via the field of cranky looking cows. Stupidly I was expecting a pile of nicely stacked stones and a glorified jigsaw puzzle, what I had was a demolished wall covered in posts that needed to come out and burried stones that didn't want to be. What we had signed up for was 2 days hard labour. What we ended up with was a thing of beauty. The details and terminology are boring to even the most avid of readers but in short we shifted a hell of a lot of stone and earth and ended up with a beautifully solid dry stone wall. New entry to the Purple Book is coming back in the future to see if my wall is still up and looking fancy.
Due to Team J and our 2 team mates helping everyone finish early, dad put the hammer down to get us all home quickly, mainly so that I could face part 2 of the merriment; Summer Solstice at Stonehenge. Pushing aside my body willing me to forego the trip to the henge in favour of the sofa, I went from camping mode to lone survival packing. The official brief was this; no camping, no sleeping bags, not much alcohol and no stereo music. Thinking back to Snowdon I wore enough not to sweat buckets yet take enough not to freeze at the limit. The balancing act of endulging in the purple book is favouring an events novelty over hindsight and being prepared. I will most likely never dry stone wall again and will only return to stone henge in order to share it with others. The drive to the henge was easy for all buit the last predictable few minutes. To aid a quick getaway, I chose to park in a layby just up from the car park. More on that later... The endless rows of people flocked to the stones, only stopping for the security post. All aerosols, weed, hard drugs and bottles were apparently seized so who knows how so much of it was smuggled in past the friendly drug dogs and stewards with rubber gloves. If you ever plan on making the trip yourself, expect to be asked several times if you've got any tobacco, weed or acid for sale. Either that or i've just got one of those faces.
After checking out the druids around a huge statue who were chanting and preaching, the obvious place to go was the stones, right up close and personal. Believe what you like about paganism, there is definitely an energy around those stones. I had not felt such an energy since the school history trip to Dachau only this was all good energy. After having sat on one of the stones for a while, the sound of music (and a numb ar$e) coaxed me away from the middle of the stones. A group of stalwart druids with drums, horns and conches were playing and slowly drawing in a bigger crowd. By nightfall they had formed their own festival group as everyone was joining in making any noise they could. It was claustrophobic but it was infectious. If only photos and video could some up the atmosphere, definetly the highlight of the year. The final couple of hours was merely survival until the solstice itself began. When you're not huddled in a group around druids with drums in the early hours you get cold very quick. Luckily banter came to the rescue with single mother of 3 Helen and Kev the chef from North Devon. I'm still amazed at Helen for keeping a stright face while another woman started talking to her about 'the sky people'. If you want epic looking pictures of the event, i'm afraid the Fujifilm couldn't do it justice. Saying that, even the blokes with their canons and tripods would have trouble summing up what it was like to be there with just a collection of pictures. Some places and some events just have to be absorbed as nothing else will allow you to experience the atmosphere. There's just something about getting that close to the mystical stones that people still aren't quite sure what they're there for. My advice to anyone looking to do the summer solstice themselves is this; wear something fit for the occasion. The more Woodstockish the better. Take an instrument such as a drum or bells with you, find a group and join in playing, the crowd will love you for it. Take a shed load of layered clothing and something waterproof to sit / lie on, you WILL need them. Finally go there with no inhibitions or expectations and you will enjoy it immensely. Just make sure you park in the car park and not a lay by down the road otherwise you will be faced with a 10 mile hile to Salisbury and a 150 quid burden in order to release your wheels. An unfortunately sour end to a perfectly sweet and unmistakable weekend.
Rossifer x
