The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes

Posted on June 9, 2026 by admin

Conundrum 11 – Periglacial Stripes…………………………. Book Extract (The Great Stonehenge Hoax)

When was the wheel invented?

The Problem

Deep chalk cuts lines found under the surface of the Avenue, which lead from the Stonehenge monument site to ‘Stonehenge Bottom’ a valley in the NE of the landscape, had always created speculation, especially today as the ‘experts’ came up with a ludicrous argument that had caught the mainstream archaeologists imagination when they suggested that these were Periglacial Stripes from the last ice age, and this was the reason for our ancestors built Stonehenge at this place. These lines are just a foot or so below the topsoil on a known roadway that dates back older than the B-road that passed the stones that have now been removed.

The Solution

This is probably the most provocative subject in history – who invented the wheel and when? What should be remembered when considering this as a key ‘landmark’ invention in the progress of humanity is that the wheel is useless without a road. The current belief is that the wheel was invented in Mesopotamia in about the 4th millennium BCE. This, however, is archaeological gobbledygook as the concept of moving items around on top of a round surface, like a tree trunk, goes back to the Neanderthals, I would imagine, if not before.

Archaeologists and historians would argue that the concept of the ‘axle’ connected to two free-running discs constitutes an actual wheel technology. However, in 2012, a Museum in Turkey found a ‘toy car’ made of stone with wheels in the northern Kurdish town of Qoser (Kızıltepe), pushing back the accepted date of wheel technology to the 6th millennium (5500BCE). The interesting aspect of this discovery was that it was a toy and not the real thing. This may be because the wood would not last this long, and even the toy car’s timber axle had to be replaced by a modern stick by the museum because it had rotted. But it should be kept in mind that this may represent an accurate record of a wagon or cart with wheels, but without a flat surface, it would be useless. (The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

The Stonehenge Hoax - Periglacial Stripes — **Toys are US – 7,500 year old Toy Cart** (The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

We have seen these kinds of ‘revolutionary inventions’ many times in history and the two most famous ‘useless’ inventions that spring to my mind are the ‘Steam Engine’, and the ‘Windmill’ – both inventions were available to the Romans in 2000 years ago, the original steam engine was a toy that spun around when a candle was placed under the brass ball with pipe outlets. Diagrams of this unique invention are shown in Hero of Alexandria’s epic work on pneumatics, which offers many other unused (or currently undiscovered) hydraulic devices. The windmill, again another mechanism well known to the Romans, was also made as a toy for children, for those who need to construct a full life-size version, at a considerable cost, which can only be used when the wind blows – in comparison to a treadmill that can work 24/7 when you have slaves?

As an example of this limited efficiency of the wheel, the American Indians also had knowledge and access to ‘real wheels’ before they were placed on their reservations, but they continued their nomadic lifestyle with horses that pulled sleighs as the distribution of weight on unmade roads made it less likely for the sleigh to get stuck and bogged down – unlike the wagon trains that could only be used seasonally as the roads were unsuitable for winter weather. Moreover, wagons suited the lifestyle of the white pioneers as not everyone could or wanted to get to their destination quickly, unlike the indigenous populations that survived on the movement of herds.

Where and when did our ancestors invent the wheel or cart, and for what purpose?

To answer this question, we need to find some kind of ‘road’ or a natural clearing that could be used as a road. If we could find such an area, we might be able to spot the telltale signs of these wheeled carts and, if we are fortunate, the cart itself. (The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

periglacial stripes - Stonehenge — **Periglacial Stripes or Cart Tracks?** (The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

When Doggerland had finally sunk into the North Sea, The Megalithic Builders built Stonehenge, and around 4300BCE, they changed the site to incorporate a new mooring place from the original car park in the North West (which pointed towards the Preseli Mountains where they obtained their sacred healing Bluestones), to a new mooring place in the North-East towards the Solstice midsummer sunrise and their old homeland Atlantis/Doggerland.

The New Shoreline was about a kilometre from the Stonehenge site, so they built what we call ‘The Avenue’, a long straight road about 30 metres wide, too wide for a walkway (which we have seen in places like Avebury is much narrower) but large enough to get two carts going either way with ease. Sadly, for archaeologists, a long ‘road-like’ prehistoric trackway will not persuade them that it was constructed as a road for carts, even if it is concave in shape and has water drainage gullies on both sides – like a Roman road. (The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

William Hawley in 1922, Atkinson in the 1950s and Mike Parker-Pearson in 2009 found what they believed to be periglacial stripes – they thought that these stripes were the product of rocks being dragged along the floor by ice glaciers or the constant freezing and thawing of the soil known as tundra.

Why am I mentioning such an essential natural feature seen throughout the world?

Well, the great surprise is that they are not natural. These features are found only on the Avenue, not outside the 30m width of the Avenue. Moreover, none are found in the excavated old car park some 50m away, or even inside the Stonehenge enclosure. If they were natural, they should be found either side of the Avenue or past the ‘Heel Stone’ – but mysteriously, they are not. Archaeologists would have you believe that this strange ‘narrow passage’ event happened naturally during the last ice age, which supposedly explains why they built Stonehenge where it is. (The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

However, the most apparent error by these archaeologists in their assumptions is that we know that the Avenue was built AFTER the Phase I of the site construction (including the ditches) as the ends of the Avenue ditches do not line up and stop short of the Stonehenge Ditches, which would not be the case if periglacial stripes were there first?

Perhaps this strange event brought the stones to Stonehenge?

Well, could we not argue that it is possible the Bluestones of Phase I mentioned earlier were delivered via this route on a glacier? This is a nice theory, but sadly, the glacier would be travelling the wrong way. We now know that the Bluestones came from Wales and the Preseli mountains, which are northwest of the site (Solstice midsummer sunset), not the northeast, and the last ice sheet stopped at the Bristol Channel 200km away and travelled in a southeast direction.

So, it is only in previous ice ages that an ice sheet could have reached Stonehenge, which was about 400,000 years ago, and could have come from the northeast. However, would this leave stripes only 30 metres wide? The other problem with these ‘natural features’ is the depth at which they were found, and supposedly half a million years old, yet just under the surface. (The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

If it’s not a glacier, what could have made these tracks?

Similar ruts have been found elsewhere in the world, and particularly in Europe. However, the most famous tracks can still be seen today in Malta, which played a crucial role in another of Humanity’s trade routes. Misrah Ghar il-Kbir (informally known as Clapham Junction) is a prehistoric site in Malta near the Dingli Cliffs. It is best known for its “cart ruts” – a complex network of tracks gouged in the rock. However, the age and purpose of the tracks are still a mystery in Maltese history. (The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

In general, most archaeologists presume that the site was established around 2000 BCE, when new settlers arrived from Sicily to begin the Bronze Age in Malta. It is reported that the “Clapham Junction” nickname was given by an Englishman, who later wrote that it reminded him of the busy railway station Clapham Junction in London. The tracks (known and signposted in Malta as Cart Ruts) can be found at several sites in Malta and Gozo. Busewdien in St Paul’s Bay, Naxxar, San Gwann, and Bidnija are good examples of cart tracks on the island of Malta. Gozo’s best cart ruts are on the Ta’ Cenc plateau, Sannat. The Misraћ Gћar il-Kbir site near the Dingli Cliffs in the south of the island is probably the most impressive – they form a real “traffic jam” here. Also called cart ruts, they are up to 60 cm deep and have an average spacing of 110 to 140 cm. Some cross while others form junctions. This creates the illusion of a great railway station switching yard.

Is this what William Hawley found originally in 1922?

He believed so and immediately called them ‘cart tracks’ because he lived in a time when horse-drawn carriages were common, and their tracks were easily identified. The cart ruts in Malta are not the only reports of earlier wheel use for transportation. In Portugal, in a mountain called Vale d’egua, cart tracks have been found cut into the rock (which by its very nature is undatable) but are located at an altitude of 800m, and they appear ‘out of nowhere’, but it is possible to follow them quite a distance. We can solve this mystery quite simply, as these carts would be used to move goods to and from boats, and at the time of these ruts, the groundwater level would, like we have found throughout Britain, be much higher than today – hence the height and apparent disappearance of the cart tracks.

Why build a road?

The second phase of Stonehenge (the Sarsen Stones) was much heavier than the Bluestones (twelve tonnes versus four tonnes), so the Bluestones could effortlessly be dragged or even carried by the Megalithic Builders as they were tall and heavy, weighing in at about 150kg, so as little as ten fit men would easily lift a stone weighing four tonnes on a ‘stretcher’ type stone carrier. In contrast, the larger Sarsens would need sledges or wheeled transportation. As we have seen previously, such technology has existed since the 6th Millennium BCE, in the form of ‘toy cars’ in Black Sea ports on the trading routes of Doggerland. Therefore, Stonehenge Avenue was Britain’s first ‘road’, and a wheeled cart was first used to move the immense Sarsen Stones from the boats moored at Stonehenge Bottom at the end of 4300BCE. (The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

Yes. The strongest 2026 update is no longer the T9 model. The strongest update is that the Stonehenge Bottom borehole dataset has now been completed, and it independently confirms the hydrological interpretation.

Here’s the direction I’d take:

2026 Update: The Stonehenge Bottom Borehole Data Have Now Settled the Question

When this article was updated in 2025, the argument against the so-called “periglacial stripes” relied primarily on the T9 hydrological model. The conclusion was simple: the Avenue corridor was underwater when archaeologists claim these stripes were visible and used to align the monument.

Since then, the investigation has moved beyond modelling.

The complete Stonehenge Bottom borehole dataset has now been analysed.

The results provide direct physical evidence from beneath the landscape itself.

The Fundamental Problem

The periglacial-stripe hypothesis requires archaeologists to believe four things:

The stripes were visible on the ground surface.
The landscape was dry enough for them to be observed.
The Avenue was laid out using these surface features.
The features survived from the last Ice Age until the Neolithic.

The borehole evidence now challenges every one of these assumptions.

What the Boreholes Reveal

The Stonehenge Bottom boreholes show a concentration of water-related deposits at consistent elevations across multiple independent boreholes.

This is precisely what would be expected if the valley functioned as a long-term watercourse or flooded basin.

It is not what would be expected in a dry landscape dominated by preserved surface frost features.

The remarkable aspect of the dataset is that the deposits cluster by elevation rather than depth.

When analysed against the Ordnance Datum height, the water-related horizons consistently occur at the same levels across the valley, indicating that they were controlled by a common water surface rather than by random geological processes.

The landscape was responding to hydrology.

Not periglacial stripes.

Why This Matters

Periglacial stripes are fragile surface features.

They are not engineered structures.

They cannot remain visible and intact within an active hydrological system subjected to:

Groundwater fluctuations
Seasonal flooding
Sediment deposition
Erosion
Channel migration

Yet the borehole evidence demonstrates that Stonehenge Bottom was precisely such a hydrological environment.

The valley was not a dry chalk corridor waiting for Neolithic surveyors.

It was part of a dynamic water system.

The Fatal Contradiction

The archaeological explanation now faces a simple problem.

If the boreholes are correct, the landscape was water-dominated.

If the landscape were water-dominated, the stripes could not have functioned as visible alignment markers.

If the stripes could not serve as alignment markers, the entire explanation of the Avenue’s alignment would collapse.

The theory depends upon a dry landscape.

The boreholes demonstrate a wet one.

Both cannot be true.

The Simpler Explanation

The Avenue follows the same route because it follows the hydrology.

The so-called stripes are not the reason the Avenue exists.

They are simply geological features that happened to occupy the same corridor later used by water and subsequently by people.

Archaeologists have reversed cause and effect.

The Avenue was not built because of the stripes.

Both the Avenue and the stripes follow the same route because it was controlled by the underlying landscape and its water system.

Conclusion

The 2025 T9 model suggested that the periglacial-stripe theory was environmentally impossible.

The 2026 Stonehenge Bottom borehole analysis now provides direct subsurface evidence supporting that conclusion.

What began as a mathematical challenge has become a geological one.

The landscape beneath Stonehenge does not support the traditional explanation.

The more evidence we recover from the ground itself, the harder it becomes to argue that the Avenue was aligned using visible Ice Age stripes.

The evidence increasingly points in a different direction:

Stonehenge was designed around water.

Not frost.

🔵 2025 Update: The T9 River-Height Proof Completely Invalidates the Periglacial Stripe Theory

Since this article was first published, we have completed the T9 River-Height Mathematical Model, which reconstructs the groundwater and river levels around Stonehenge across the early Holocene.
The findings are so clear-cut that they require a public correction to the archaeological narrative.

The T9 model shows that at the time the Avenue was supposedly aligned using “periglacial stripes,” the entire Avenue route was underwater.

Not partially wet.
Not marshy.
Submerged. Long-term.

This single fact collapses the entire periglacial-alignment hypothesis.

🔵 Why This Matters: Periglacial Features Cannot Survive Underwater

Archaeologists have claimed that “periglacial stripes” or “meltwater channels” formed during the last glaciation and just happened to align with solstice sunrise — and that Neolithic builders chose Stonehenge’s location because these markings were visible on the ground.

The T9 hydrological reconstruction proves this is impossible:

If the Avenue corridor were underwater, those delicate surface features would have been erased by:

Hydraulic scouring
Sediment redistribution
Bank collapse
Sheet wash and over-topping
Reworking of the chalk by sustained flow

Periglacial stripes are shallow, fragile polygonal cracks.
They cannot survive decades — let alone centuries — of fluvial action.

You do not get crisp “visible surface stripes” in an active river channel.

You get reworked chalk, mud deposition, and smoothing — the exact opposite of what MPP’s team claimed to see.

🔵 Archaeologists’ Core Assumption Was Environmentally Impossible

The periglacial hypothesis depends on two assumptions:

The stripes were visible on dry ground.
The ground was dry when Neolithic people built the Avenue.

The T9 model completely destroys assumption #2.
If the ground was underwater, then:

The stripes could not have been visible.
The stripes could not have survived.
The Avenue could not have been laid out on foot.
The “alignment-by-glacial-chance” story collapses.

A submerged landscape cannot guide architectural decisions based on surface marks.

🔵 Correct Interpretation: The Avenue Was a Watercourse, Not a Footpath

The T9 river height data reinforces everything established in The Post-Glacial Flooding Hypothesis:

Stonehenge Phase 1 was built on a peninsula surrounded by water.
The Avenue followed a natural waterway, not a land track.
The solstice line makes hydrological sense, not glacial sense.
The site is maritime, not terrestrial, in origin.

Once the Avenue is restored to its true environmental context — a post-glacial river channel, not dry land — the archaeology suddenly stops contradicting itself.

🔵 Conclusion: The “Periglacial Stripe” Theory Is Not Just Weak — It Is Geologically Impossible

The new T9 mathematical proof forces a decisive correction:

❌ The Avenue was not laid out on glacial stripes.

❌ The ground was not dry when the stripes were supposedly “used.”

❌ The stripes could not have survived prolonged inundation.

✅ The Avenue corridor was underwater.

✅ The landscape was shaped by hydrology, not ice.

✅ The entire periglacial-alignment hypothesis must be abandoned.

Unearth the Astonishing Secrets of Stonehenge (The Stonehenge Hoax)

Introduction

Video

Synopsys

Stonehenge, a timeless enigma etched in stone and earth, has stood as a formidable puzzle challenging the intellects of archaeologists and historians alike. Despite the myriad attempts, including books, TV programs, and academic conferences, the secrets of these ancient stones and their encircling ditches have proven elusive. Against this backdrop, we scrutinise the existing thirteen hypotheses, each presenting its narrative but collectively lacking a coherent thread.

In adopting the deductive reasoning akin to Sherlock Holmes, we endeavour to weave these disparate threads into a unified tapestry that not only unravels the mystery of Stonehenge but also shakes the foundations of established academic narratives. This intellectual journey may induce some discomfort as we challenge conventional perceptions and invite a reevaluation of our understanding of the past. Apologies are extended in advance for any cognitive dissonance, but the pursuit of truth and reason mandates an unfiltered presentation of the facts.

So, fasten your seatbelts for an expedition into the archaeological unknown.

As we navigate this intellectual rollercoaster, be prepared for a revelation that might reshape our understanding of Stonehenge and question the foundations of our historical narratives. The dawn of a new archaeological era awaits promising insights that could leave even the most curious minds astonished. As we delve into this intellectual rabbit hole, be ready for a revelation that could astonish Alice. (The Stonehenge Hoax)

Robert John Langdon (2023) – (The Stonehenge Hoax)

The Journey

Langdon’s journey was marked by meticulous mapping and years of research, culminating in a hypothesis that would reshape our understanding of prehistoric Britain. He proposed that much of the British Isles had once been submerged in the aftermath of the last ice age, with these ancient sites strategically positioned along the ancient shorelines. His groundbreaking maps offered a fresh perspective, suggesting that Avebury had functioned as a bustling trading hub for our ancient ancestors. This audacious theory challenged the prevailing notion that prehistoric societies were isolated and disconnected, instead highlighting their sophistication in trade and commerce.

In the realm of historical discovery, the audacious thinkers, the mavericks who dare to question established narratives, propel our understanding forward. Robert John Langdon is undeniably one of these thinkers. With a deep passion for history and an unyielding commitment to his research, he has unearthed a hidden chapter in the story of Avebury that transcends the boundaries of time and offers fresh insights into our shared human history.

As Langdon’s trilogy, ‘The Stonehenge Enigma,’ continues to explore these groundbreaking theories, it beckons us to embark on a journey of discovery, to challenge our assumptions, and to embrace the possibility that the past is far more complex and interconnected than we ever imagined. With its ancient stones and enigmatic avenues, Avebury continues to whisper its secrets to those who dare to listen, inviting us to see history through a new lens—one illuminated by the audacious vision of Robert John Langdon.

(The Stonehenge Hoax – Periglacial Stripes)

The Book

Biography

Robert John Langdon, a polymathic luminary, emerges as a writer, historian, and eminent specialist in LiDAR Landscape Archaeology.

His intellectual voyage has been interwoven with stints as an astute scrutineer in government and grand corporate bastions, a tapestry spanning British Telecommunications, Cable and Wireless, British Gas, and the esteemed University of London.

A decade hence, Robert’s transition into retirement unfurled a chapter of insatiable curiosity. This phase saw him immerse himself in Politics, Archaeology, Philosophy, and the enigmatic realm of Quantum Mechanics. His academic odyssey traversed the venerable corridors of knowledge hubs such as the Museum of London, University College London, Birkbeck College, The City Literature Institute, and Chichester University.

In the symphony of his life, Robert is a custodian of three progeny and a pair of cherished grandchildren. His sanctuary lies ensconced in the embrace of West Wales, where he inhabits an isolated cottage, its windows framing a vista of the boundless sea – a retreat from the scrutinising gaze of Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs, an amiable clandestinity in the lap of nature.

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

My blog delves into the fascinating mysteries of prehistoric Britain, challenging conventional narratives and offering fresh perspectives grounded in cutting-edge research, particularly LiDAR technology. I invite you to explore some key areas of my research. For example, the Wansdyke, often cited as a defensive structure, is re-examined in light of new evidence. I’ve presented my findings in my blog post Wansdyke: A British Frontier Wall – ‘Debunked’, and a Wansdyke LiDAR Flyover video further visualises my conclusions.

My work also often challenges established archaeological dogma. I argue that many sites, such as Hambledon Hill, commonly identified as Iron Age hillforts, are not what they seem. My posts Lidar Investigation Hambledon Hill – NOT an ‘Iron Age Fort’ and Unmasking the “Iron Age Hillfort” Myth explore these ideas in detail and offer an alternative view. Similarly, sites like Cissbury Ring and White Sheet Camp receive re-evaluations based on LiDAR analysis in my posts “Lidar Investigation Cissbury Ring through time” and “Lidar Investigation White Sheet Camp,“ revealing fascinating insights into their true purpose. I have also examined South Cadbury Castle, often linked to the mythical Camelot56.

My research also extends to ancient water management, including the role of canals and other linear earthworks. I have discussed the true origins of Car Dyke in multiple posts, including Car Dyke – ABC News Podcast and Lidar Investigation Car Dyke – North Section, which suggest a Mesolithic origin 2357. I also explore the misidentification of Roman aqueducts, as seen in my posts on the Great Chesters (Roman) Aqueduct. My research has also been greatly informed by my post-glacial flooding hypothesis, which has helped explain landscape transformations over time. I have discussed this hypothesis in several posts, including AI now supports my Post-Glacial Flooding Hypothesis and Exploring Britain’s Flooded Past: A Personal Journey

Finally, my blog also investigates prehistoric burial practices, as seen in Prehistoric Burial Practices of Britain and explores the mystery of Pillow Mounds, often mistaken for medieval rabbit warrens, but with a potential link to Bronze Age cremation in my posts: Pillow Mounds: A Bronze Age Legacy of Cremation? and The Mystery of Pillow Mounds: Are They Really Medieval Rabbit Warrens?. My research also includes astronomical insights into ancient sites, for example, in Rediscovering the Winter Solstice: The Original Winter Festival. I also review new information about the construction of Stonehenge in The Stonehenge Enigma.

Other Blogs

2024 Prehistoric Britain Blog Review

8000-year-old Cro-Magnon skull

Vikings, Doggerland, and the Last Survivors of Europe’s Lost Waterworld

The Stonehenge Hoax – The Slaughter Stone

Posted on June 8, 2026 by admin

Conundrum 12 – The Slaughter Stone……………………… Book Extract (The Great Stonehenge Hoax)

“The Killing of great numbers of human beings”

The Problem

The slaughter stone has always been associated with mythology and speculation. Some say it was where Druids sacrificed bodies to their gods (hence the name); others suggested that it is merely a fallen Sarsen stone that once stood upright as the entrance to the monument. But recent scanning has shown that it was once sculpted to look ’lumpy and ‘rolling’,’ but why?

The Solution

In the centre of the Sarsen circle lies an extraordinary stone – the Altar stone; the reason it’s unique is two-fold. Firstly, it’s made of mica, unlike the other Sarsen standing stones. ‘Hawkins notes that while all the other stones were either bluestone or Sarsen, the so-called altar-stone is ‘of fine-grained pale green sandstone, containing so many flakes of mica that its surface, wherever, wherever it is freshly exposed, shows the typical mica glitter’. The second reason is that it was positioned to be ‘flat’ with the landscape; the only other stone designed in that fashion is the Slaughter Stone.

Unpublished EH scan of the Slaughter Stone – (The Stonehenge Hoax – The Slaughter Stone)

Most archaeologists believe that the Slaughter Stone was once a standing stone at the monument’s entrance; this is a flawed theory resulting from a hypothetical drawing by Inigo Jones in 1655. This drawing shows Stonehenge as a perfect circle (Roman Solar Temple), with a hexagon-shaped trilithon and three entrances into the site, with six upright standing stones serving as access points, one of which was the slaughter stone. This idea was incorporated into John Aubrey’s drawing in 1666, which was more accurate but again tended to place all the fallen stones upright.

This false assumption was further compounded by William Cunning in 1880, when (it was reported) that he suggested his grandfather “saw” the upright slaughter stone in the 17th Century. This mistake was later corrected, yet the myths among archaeologists persist (Stones of Slaughter, E. Herbert Stone, 1924, p. 120). (The Stonehenge Hoax – The Slaughter Stone)

hypothetical drawing by Inigo Jones in 1655.(The Stonehenge Hoax - The Slaughter Stone) — Hypothetical drawing by Inigo Jones in 1655 – (The Stonehenge Hoax – The Slaughter Stone)

The reality is that the Slaughter Stone was always (like the Altar Stone) a deliberate recumbent, as the excavations of this stone by Hawley and Newall in the 1920s clearly show, as the chalk subsoil was also deliberately flattened before it was placed in its current position. Hawley presumed that the Slaughter Stone was once ‘buried’; this idea is understandable as the stone does lie below the ground level, but what Hawley never understood is that the reason the stone was in this position was for the same reason the ditch was built around Stonehenge, as it was made to be full of water.

This can be observed by the size of the stone hole called ‘E’ (WA1165), which lies two metres North West of the Slaughter stone but still within the ‘hollow’ that contains the stone. Most stone holes at Stonehenge are relatively shallow – less than a metre in-depth, but stone hole ‘E’ is twice as deep, over 2m. So if the Slaughter stone were placed in it (as the experts have suggested), it would be only 3m high at the surface, compared to 4.57m for the Heel Stone a few yards away.

**Slaughter stone was deliberately buried below the chalk surface.** – (The Stonehenge Hoax – The Slaughter Stone)

The only other place in Stonehenge with these more massive pits is within the Ditch section surrounding the site, which is the same depth, allowing access to the groundwater levels. In the past, when the Slaughter stone was placed in this ditch, as in the moat, water would have surrounded the stone, making it appear like an island.

Therefore, what we see today at Stonehenge is a 6,000-year-old relief map of the land the megalithic builders originated from – Doggerland, which now lies below the North Sea.

(The Stonehenge Hoax - The Slaughter Stone) — They created a relief Map of their Island – (The Stonehenge Hoax – The Slaughter Stone)

Not only did they place a 6ft piece of Sarsen stone, flat in a watery ditch, but they also carved out the island’s contours, showing high and low ground, like a contour relief map. Archaeologists have always believed these features were ‘weather-worn’ by age (although the other recumbent stones have not been weathered in the same fashion), but recent laser technology has confirmed our belief that this stone was carved, as the tool marks are still visible at the microscopic level.

Sea Level Changes sunk Doggerland — **Sea Level Changes sank Doggerland** – (The Stonehenge Hoax – The Slaughter Stone)

Moreover, and more importantly, the stone has been placed in a bizarre position, almost in the way of The Avenue. This shows that this stone and the Avenue have a connection; this type of relationship is seen in association with Egyptian Pyramids, where ‘sight lines’ are cut into the sides of the burial chambers toward important star constellations to show their associations with the Gods.

At Stonehenge, the Slaughter Stone and the Avenue are important as they link death with rebirth for this Megalithic Civilisation, for if we look from the Altar stone and follow a line past the Slaughter stone, they make a sight-line, which quite remarkably points directly to their homeland, Doggerland. This was only a small island at the time of the Avenues’ construction in 4100 BCE, but it was constantly shrinking as sea levels (as now) continued to rise. Geologists currently estimate the sinking of Doggerland to have occurred 2,000 years earlier, at 6200 BCE, after finding a Tsunami that would have hit the island at that time.

Moreover, as we have seen in the Indian ocean and Japan – when tsunami’s hit, they do NOT sink the region, sadly, this is just another example of ‘bad science’ within archaeology. We can confirm that Doggerland did not disappear at this stage of history with a bit of simple maths. We know that the island is between 15m and 36m (average 25m) (Wikipedia) under the sea as a sandbank (and hence covered in modern-day wind farms). And we know (from satellites) that the sea rises 3.6mm per annum – consequently, by 4100 BCE it was still 6m above sea level, but probably so small it was uninhabitable.

The Slaughter Stone Points to Doggerland – Enigma V2.0 (2015) page 95 – (The Stonehenge Hoax – The Slaughter Stone)

2026 Update

When I first published The Stonehenge Enigma almost twenty years ago, one of the most controversial suggestions was that the accepted story of Stonehenge’s stones was incomplete. At the time, archaeologists largely confined their search for sources to Wales and southern Britain, while suggestions of much longer-distance transport were routinely dismissed.

Today, the debate looks very different.

Researchers have now concluded that Stonehenge’s six-tonne Altar Stone most likely originated in north-east Scotland, approximately 700 kilometres from Salisbury Plain. More significantly, the latest peer-reviewed study has examined how such a journey may have been achieved.

According to Dr Anthony Clarke of Curtin University:

“Our modelling shows glaciers may have transported rocks part of the way during the last Ice Age — potentially as far as Dogger Bank in the North Sea — but not into southern England, meaning the stone would still have needed to be moved hundreds of kilometres by people.”

That statement is remarkable.

For decades, the standard objection to long-distance transport was that prehistoric people simply could not move such massive stones across Britain. The new research reaches the opposite conclusion. Not only was human transport required, but the journey appears to have involved multiple stages, combining overland movement with river and coastal transport.

The paper concludes there were no viable glacial pathways connecting the source region directly to Stonehenge. Human organisation, planning and transport networks were therefore essential.

What makes this particularly interesting is the appearance of Dogger Bank within the discussion.

Dogger Bank occupies the heart of the drowned North Sea landscape known as Doggerland. For years, Doggerland has often been portrayed as little more than a submerged hunting ground. Yet the new study identifies the region as a potential staging point within the wider movement of material from Scotland towards southern Britain.

In other words, the researchers are now discussing precisely the kind of interconnected landscape that I have been putting forward for nearly twenty years.

The significance of the paper is therefore not simply that the Altar Stone came from Scotland.

The significance is that a peer-reviewed transport model now places Dogger Bank directly into the discussion and confirms that prehistoric communities were capable of moving multi-tonne stones across hundreds of kilometres using a combination of routes and technologies.

Twenty years ago, such ideas were considered pseudoscience or conspiracy theory.

Today, they appear in the scientific literature.

The lesson is simple.

Never underestimate prehistoric people.

The real mystery is not how they moved the stone.

The real mystery is why it took archaeology so long to accept that they could.

Fast forward to today, and the story has taken a remarkable turn. Advances in geochemical analysis and improved scientific methods have provided new insights into the origin of Stonehenge’s stones, particularly the Altar Stone. Researchers have determined that this unique stone, composed of fine-grained pale green sandstone with a high mica content, does not match the geology of Wales or Cornwall, as once thought. Instead, studies now strongly suggest that it originated in Scotland, a revelation that challenges long-held assumptions and lends credibility to my earlier hypothesis.

The Altar Stone has always been an outlier in terms of its composition. Unlike the bluestones of Preseli or the massive Sarsens from the Marlborough Downs, its distinctive mica-rich material immediately set it apart. Early examinations by archaeologists such as Richard Atkinson noted these differences but lacked the tools to trace their exact origins. It wasn’t until recent years that advanced geochemical fingerprinting techniques were applied, allowing scientists to identify its likely provenance with greater accuracy.

One pivotal breakthrough came in 2016 when researchers conducted isotopic analysis on fragments of the Altar Stone. These tests revealed a chemical composition that closely matched sandstone formations found in southern Scotland. This discovery was groundbreaking, as it opened the door to a broader understanding of how far people in the Neolithic were willing to travel—or trade—to obtain materials for their monumental constructions.

In 2020, further studies refined this analysis, narrowing the possible source to the southern uplands of Scotland. However, the exact quarry site remains unknown. This uncertainty stems from a lack of comprehensive geological mapping of underwater sandstone formations along Scotland’s eastern coast. Some experts have speculated that the stone may have been transported via waterways, possibly from a submerged quarry site now lying beneath the North Sea.

This raises intriguing questions about the logistical capabilities of Neolithic societies. How did they transport such a massive stone across hundreds of miles? Did they rely on an extensive network of waterways and seafaring routes, or were the stones traded overland in a series of exchanges between communities? These questions remain unanswered, but they highlight the sophistication of the builders’ organisational and engineering skills.

The story of the Altar Stone also underscores the slow pace of archaeological research. Despite the clear potential for groundbreaking discoveries, investigations into the stone’s origins have been limited by funding constraints and the challenges of underwater archaeology. The sandstone formations off the east coast of Scotland, which could provide definitive answers, have yet to be explored in detail. Without such investigations, the hypothesis that the Altar Stone came from this region remains partially validated but not fully proven.

Interestingly, the Altar Stone’s unique material properties may have held symbolic significance for the builders of Stonehenge. The shimmering mica within the sandstone gives it a luminous quality when freshly exposed, which may have been interpreted as spiritually or ritually important. Its placement at the centre of the Sarsen circle, lying flat rather than upright like the surrounding stones, further suggests it played a central role in the monument’s purpose.

The debate over the Altar Stone’s origin is part of a broader reevaluation of Stonehenge’s construction and function. The monument was interpreted primarily as a solar temple or astronomical observatory for centuries. However, newer theories emphasise its role as a site of cultural and ritual significance, with connections to far-flung regions of the Neolithic world. The diversity of the stones’ origins supports the idea that Stonehenge was not just a local project but a monument with broader regional and possibly even international connections.

This evolving understanding of the Altar Stone exemplifies the dynamic nature of archaeology. What was once dismissed as pseudoscience is now recognised as a plausible, even likely, explanation. It also highlights the importance of revisiting old assumptions with new tools and technologies. Had geochemical fingerprinting not been applied, the Altar Stone’s Scottish origin might still be unknown.

The following steps in this journey will likely involve underwater archaeology, a field that has only recently begun to gain traction. As technology improves and funding becomes available, it is hoped that investigations into the submerged sandstone formations along Scotland’s coast will uncover the exact source of the Altar Stone. Such a discovery would not only validate this hypothesis but also shed light on the broader network of trade and communication that existed in Neolithic Britain.

Until then, the story of the Altar Stone remains a testament to the resilience of ideas and science’s slow but steady progress. It serves as a reminder that archaeology, while painstakingly slow, has the power to rewrite our understanding of history. My initial hypothesis, once dismissed, has found a place in the growing body of evidence that challenges traditional narratives about Stonehenge and its builders.

Unearth the Astonishing Secrets of Stonehenge (The Stonehenge Hoax)

Introduction

Video

Synopsys

So, fasten your seatbelts for an expedition into the archaeological unknown.

Robert John Langdon (2023) – (The Stonehenge Hoax)

Author’s Biography

Robert John Langdon, a polymathic luminary, emerges as a writer, historian, and eminent specialist in LiDAR Landscape Archaeology.

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

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2024 Prehistoric Britain Blog Review

8000-year-old Cro-Magnon skull

Vikings, Doggerland, and the Last Survivors of Europe’s Lost Waterworld

Clement Reid, Doggerland, and the Archaeological Establishment

Posted on May 18, 2026 by admin

How a “Lost World” Beneath the North Sea Went from Marginal Theory to Accepted Fact

Introduction

In 1913, the British geologist Clement Reid published a remarkable book titled Submerged Forests. Within its pages, Reid proposed something extraordinary for the time: that Britain had once been connected to continental Europe by a vast prehistoric landscape now submerged beneath the North Sea. (Clement Reid, Doggerland, and the Archaeological Establishment)

Today, we call this drowned world Doggerland.

Modern archaeology now treats Doggerland as an established scientific reality. Universities reconstruct its rivers and forests in digital models. Television documentaries present it as one of the most important prehistoric landscapes ever discovered. Entire academic projects are devoted to mapping its vanished terrain.

Yet what is rarely discussed is that when Reid first proposed the idea, it sat largely outside accepted archaeological thinking. His conclusions were not embraced as visionary science. They were treated as speculative and peripheral because the evidence challenged the prevailing understanding of Britain’s prehistoric past.

The irony is remarkable.

(Clement Reid, Doggerland, and the Archaeological Establishment)

The same academic world that now speaks confidently about Doggerland only fully accepted its existence after industrial oil exploration in the 1960s and 1970s accidentally proved Reid correct through seabed mapping, seismic surveys, and offshore drilling.

Doggerland, therefore, represents far more than a lost landscape.

It represents a cautionary tale about academic certainty itself.

Without it, critics can say:

“Well, Reid was just speculating without evidence.”

But once you include the nineteenth-century finds, the situation changes dramatically.

Because then the historical sequence becomes:

Physical evidence was already being recovered from the North Sea.
Scientists already knew submerged land surfaces existed.
Reid synthesised this evidence into a coherent landscape model.
The implications were still not fully operationalised archaeologically.
Later marine geophysics confirmed the larger landscape physically.

That is a much stronger progression in history and science.

And critically, it reinforces your silence argument:

The evidence was not absent;
The implications simply were not fully pursued.

This section should probably go immediately before “The Britain Clement Reid Saw.”

The Evidence Existed Before Doggerland Had a Name

Long before the term “Doggerland” was ever coined, physical evidence was already emerging from the floor of the North Sea.

Throughout the nineteenth century, North Sea fishermen regularly recovered:

mammoth bones
antlers
peat deposits
submerged tree remains
and even worked flints

while trawling offshore waters.

These discoveries were not isolated curiosities. They demonstrated something fundamentally important:

Large areas beneath the North Sea had once been dry land.

Peat could not form underwater. Trees could not grow on the seabed. Large terrestrial mammals could not inhabit a marine environment. The evidence, therefore, pointed directly toward a drowned prehistoric landscape connecting Britain to continental Europe.

This material heavily influenced early geologists and palaeoenvironmental researchers, including Clement Reid.

By the time Reid published Submerged Forests in 1913, the basic physical evidence for former land surfaces beneath the North Sea already existed. The real issue was not whether the land had once been exposed, but whether the scientific world was prepared to grasp the full implications of what that meant for prehistory, migration, and the ancient geography of Britain.

That distinction is crucial.

Doggerland was not suddenly invented by modern archaeology.

The evidence had been sitting in fishing nets for decades.

The Britain Clement Reid Saw

Reid was not a fantasist or fringe writer. He was a respected geologist with the Geological Survey who specialised in ancient landscapes, fossil plants, and environmental reconstruction.

While studying Britain’s coastlines, he repeatedly encountered strange evidence:

submerged forests exposed at low tide
drowned peat beds
ancient river sediments beneath the sea
tree stumps emerging from beaches
buried prehistoric land surfaces offshore

To Reid, the implications were obvious.

Britain had not always been an island.

Large parts of what is now the North Sea must once have been dry land occupied by forests, animals, and prehistoric people.

At the time, however, archaeology still operated within relatively rigid geographical assumptions. Britain was largely viewed as a peripheral island receiving cultural influence from continental Europe, rather than as part of a major prehistoric continental landscape in its own right.

Reid’s conclusions disrupted that simplicity.

The Problem: Nobody Could See the North Sea Floor

The greatest obstacle Reid faced was technological.

In 1913, there was no practical way to visualise the submerged landscape beneath the North Sea on a continental scale.

There was:

no marine seismic imaging
no industrial offshore drilling
no sonar bathymetry
no digital seabed modelling
no large-scale geophysical mapping

Reid’s argument, therefore, relied primarily upon coastal geology, submerged forests, peat deposits, and deductive reasoning.

To many archaeologists, this made the hypothesis easy to marginalise.

This is important because modern archaeology often presents Doggerland as though it emerged naturally from gradual academic progress. In reality, the idea remained on the fringes largely because the physical landscape itself could not yet be properly mapped.

Then Came the Oil Industry

Everything changed in the 1960s with the race to exploit North Sea oil and gas reserves.

Oil companies were not searching for archaeology.

They were searching for hydrocarbons.

To locate them, they began undertaking vast geological and seismic surveys across the North Sea basin. For the first time in human history, scientists could effectively peer beneath the seabed in detail.

And what did they find?

Exactly the kind of drowned landscape Reid had described half a century earlier.

The surveys revealed:

submerged river valleys
ancient coastlines
lake basins
estuarine systems
floodplains
peat deposits
glacial and post-glacial landscapes

Modern seismic data have conclusively demonstrated that a vast habitable lowland once connected Britain to continental Europe.

The “speculative” landscape had been there all along.

Why Doggerland Still Wasn’t Fully Understood in the 1980s and 1990s

Even after North Sea oil exploration began revealing enormous submerged landscapes beneath the seabed, Doggerland still did not immediately transform archaeology.

This raises an important question:

If the seismic evidence existed by the 1970s and 1980s, why did it take until the early twenty-first century for Doggerland to become a mainstream archaeological reality?

The answer lies in a combination of corporate secrecy, technological limitation, and disciplinary separation.

1. The Data Was Effectively Locked Away

The seismic surveys were conducted by private oil and gas companies.

These corporations spent enormous sums collecting offshore geophysical data and treated it as commercially valuable intellectual property. Academic archaeologists generally had little or no access to the datasets.

More importantly, the oil industry had no interest in prehistoric landscapes.

Their objective was to find hydrocarbons buried kilometres beneath the seabed. The shallow upper layers, containing ancient river valleys, peat beds, and drowned terrain, were largely treated as geological overburden — background material that had to be filtered out to reach the economically important strata below.

As a result, some of the clearest evidence for Doggerland physically existed for decades before archaeology could meaningfully examine it.

2. The Computers Were Not Yet Powerful Enough

Modern reconstructions of Doggerland depend upon enormous quantities of three-dimensional seismic and bathymetric data stitched together across thousands of square kilometres.

In the 1980s and early 1990s, this was technologically extremely difficult.

Universities generally lacked:

the computing power,
data storage,
rendering capability,
and processing speed

required to integrate these vast offshore datasets into coherent prehistoric landscape models.

Only in the late 1990s and early 2000s did computing technology finally become capable of handling the scale of data required to reconstruct the drowned North Sea plain properly.

3. Geologists and Archaeologists Were Working in Isolation

Perhaps most importantly, the relevant disciplines were not communicating effectively.

Oil geologists viewed the shallow seabed primarily as a barrier obscuring deeper oil-bearing strata.

Archaeologists, meanwhile, understood that prehistoric populations had once occupied areas now submerged beneath the North Sea, but lacked the marine geophysical tools necessary to visualise the landscape itself.

The two fields largely operated independently of one another.

Only in the early 2000s did serious interdisciplinary collaboration begin, combining:

offshore seismic data,
marine geology,
palaeoenvironmental reconstruction,
and archaeology

into a unified model of the drowned prehistoric landscape.

By then, Clement Reid had been dead for almost a century.

Doggerland Was Proven by Geology — Not Traditional Archaeology

This is the crucial point often overlooked.

Doggerland was not primarily discovered through excavation in the traditional archaeological sense.

Its existence was confirmed by:

marine geophysics
industrial seismic imaging
offshore geological surveys
sediment analysis
underwater mapping technologies

The archaeology followed afterwards.

This matters because it reveals an uncomfortable pattern that repeats throughout the history of archaeology:

A disruptive landscape theory is proposed.
It struggles against established narratives.
Independent sciences later produce overwhelming physical evidence.
Archaeology absorbs the new reality as an accepted fact.

Doggerland is therefore not merely a triumph of archaeology.

It is equally a triumph of geology, marine science, and technological surveying.

Silence Is Not the Same as Acceptance

One of the most revealing aspects of Clement Reid’s work is not open hostility, but relative silence.

Modern archaeology often gives the impression that Reid’s submerged landscape ideas were gradually and quietly accepted by the scientific world. But in science, silence does not necessarily imply agreement or acceptance.

Quite often, it indicates something very different:

conceptual discomfort
technological limitation
disciplinary compartmentalisation
or an inability to integrate disruptive implications into existing frameworks.

If a scientific theory genuinely transforms a discipline, it normally generates:

debate
criticism
attempts at falsification
methodological expansion
and sustained investigation.

Had Albert Einstein published relativity only for physics to largely ignore it for decades, nobody would argue that relativity had therefore been “quietly accepted.” The opposite conclusion would be drawn — that the scientific world had not yet fully absorbed the implications of the theory.

The same pattern appears in the history of Doggerland.

Reid published Submerged Forests in 1913, the same year he retired from the Geological Survey after a distinguished scientific career. He died only three years later in 1916. During that short remaining period, his drowned landscape model did not trigger a major transformation in archaeology or prehistoric reconstruction.

There was:

no large-scale marine investigation programme
no major archaeological restructuring around submerged landscapes
no widespread mobilisation of prehistoric research into the North Sea basin

Instead, the idea remained scientifically peripheral for decades.

This is important because it suggests that the scientific world of the early twentieth century was not fully equipped — technologically or conceptually — to grasp the scale of what Reid was implying.

He had inferred the existence of a lost prehistoric landscape beneath the North Sea long before the technology existed to visualise it properly.

Only later did:

marine geophysics
seismic profiling
sonar mapping
offshore drilling
and North Sea oil exploration

Finally, transform Reid’s geological inference into a physically visible drowned world.

In this sense, the muted reception of Reid’s work may itself be evidence of how disruptive and difficult its implications truly were for the scientific establishment of the time to fully comprehend.

The Archaeological Hypocrisy

Today, archaeologists speak with complete confidence about Doggerland.

It appears in textbooks, museums, documentaries, and university lectures as settled science.

Yet very few openly acknowledge that:

the original theory existed outside mainstream archaeological thinking
the idea was treated cautiously for decades
and it was only overwhelming physical evidence from external sciences that forced universal acceptance

This is not how science is supposed to operate.

Science advances by testing difficult ideas against evidence — not by protecting established narratives until technological advances make resistance impossible.

Doggerland demonstrates how institutional conservatism can delay acceptance even when the underlying reasoning is sound.

The Same Pattern Appears Elsewhere

Doggerland is not an isolated example.

The same tendency toward premature certainty recurs throughout archaeology.

1. The Bluestone Debate

For decades, debate surrounded how the Stonehenge bluestones reached Salisbury Plain.

While their Welsh origin was widely accepted, archaeologists remained divided over whether the stones were deliberately transported by humans or partially carried by glacial processes.

Over time, quarry excavations in the Preseli Hills, associated hearths, and radiocarbon evidence increasingly strengthened the case for deliberate prehistoric quarrying and transport.

The important issue is not that archaeology asks questions — that is, healthy science.

The issue is how tentative interpretations are often presented publicly as settled certainty long before the evidence is complete.

2. The Sarsen Source Problem

For many years, Stonehenge narratives simplified the sarsens as broadly “local” materials derived from nearby Wiltshire landscapes.

More recent geochemical work has considerably complicated that picture.

While West Woods appears to have been a major source of many of the principal stones, the wider sarsen distribution across southern Britain indicates a far more extensive prehistoric stone landscape extending into Hampshire and Sussex.

The significance is not simply geological.

It demonstrates again how archaeology frequently compresses complex prehistoric systems into simplified narratives that later evidence must revise.

Doggerland followed exactly the same trajectory.

3. The Prehistoric Dyke Problem

For generations, large linear earthworks such as:

Offa’s Dyke
Wansdyke
Car Dyke
and the Vallum

have been interpreted primarily as defensive or territorial boundaries.

Yet many of these structures display characteristics difficult to reconcile with simple military explanations:

inconsistent defensive logic
discontinuous alignments
relationships with wetlands and floodplains
hydraulic behaviour
and associations with water-retaining landscapes.

Increasingly, alternative interpretations suggest that at least some of these monumental earthworks may have functioned partly as:

canals,
water-management systems,
transport corridors,
or integrated hydrological infrastructure.

The important point is not that traditional archaeology asked questions.

The issue is that defensive interpretations often became entrenched long before large-scale hydrological modelling, lidar analysis, and landscape engineering perspectives were properly integrated into archaeological interpretation.

Once again, the pattern resembles Doggerland:

A landscape system existed physically in front of investigators for generations, yet the underlying functional logic remained poorly understood because the dominant interpretive framework constrained how the evidence was viewed.

4. Hydrology: The Missing Discipline

Perhaps the deepest parallel between Doggerland and wider prehistoric archaeology is hydrology itself.

Doggerland was ultimately misunderstood because archaeology failed to properly integrate changing sea levels, marine landscapes, river systems, and submerged environmental reconstruction into prehistoric interpretation.

But remarkably, a similar problem also appears across terrestrial archaeology.

For much of the twentieth century, archaeology often treated ancient landscapes as though modern drainage conditions broadly reflected prehistoric reality.

Yet post-glacial Britain was radically different:

groundwater levels were higher
floodplains were wetter
wetlands were more extensive
chalk aquifers behaved differently
rivers occupied larger channels
and seasonal inundation transformed movement and settlement patterns.

In many cases, archaeologists interpreted prehistoric structures without fully integrating the hydrological conditions under which they originally operated.

This may have profoundly affected interpretations of:

ditches
causeways
river transport
wetland occupation
monument placement
and large linear earthworks.

The irony is extraordinary.

In Doggerland studies, archaeology initially underestimated the role of marine hydrology and drowned landscapes.

In terrestrial archaeology, it may have simultaneously underestimated inland hydrology and water-dominated land environments.

The same disciplinary weakness appears in reverse.

In both cases, the result was similar:
prehistoric landscapes were interpreted through modern environmental assumptions rather than reconstructed hydrological realities.

Reid’s Other Problem: The Mystery of Rapid Plant Migration

Clement Reid’s importance to prehistoric science extends far beyond Doggerland.

In 1899, more than a decade before Submerged Forests, Reid published another remarkable work: The Origin of the British Flora. Within it, he identified a problem that still challenges ecology today — what later became known as Reid’s Paradox of Rapid Plant Migration.

The paradox is deceptively simple.

When scientists calculate how quickly plants naturally spread through seed dispersal alone, the results are extremely slow. Trees such as oak should have taken many thousands of years longer to recolonise Britain after the Ice Age than the archaeological and pollen evidence suggests.

Yet across Europe and Britain, plants repeatedly appear far earlier and spread far faster than traditional dispersal models predict.

Even modern ecology still struggles to explain this properly.

The standard explanation usually invokes vague concepts such as “long-distance dispersal,” but this often amounts to little more than admitting that the mathematics and the observed reality do not match.

But what if the problem is not botanical?

What if the problem is archaeological?

The Hidden Assumption Inside Reid’s Paradox

Traditional dispersal models largely assume that prehistoric humans played only a minor role in environmental change.

Implicit within many calculations is an outdated image of Mesolithic people as:

sparse populations
isolated hunter-gatherers
technologically primitive
and largely disconnected from one another.

But the growing evidence from Doggerland and post-glacial Britain increasingly points toward something very different.

The Mesolithic world appears to have been highly mobile, river-based, and interconnected.

Once this possibility is introduced, Reid’s Paradox becomes far less mysterious.

Rivers Were the Highways of the Mesolithic World

Under post-glacial conditions, Britain was not the dry landscape we know today.

Research into post-glacial hydrology increasingly suggests that:

rivers were larger
estuaries extended far inland
wetlands interconnected catchments
and water transport was likely easier and more efficient than overland movement.

If Mesolithic populations used rivers and coastlines as transport corridors, then humans themselves became major agents of ecological dispersal.

Seeds, spores, and plants could spread through:

food transport
reeds and basket materials
animal hides
timber movement
boat traffic
stored resources
and simple repeated human movement along waterways.

The consequences are profound.

A river-based exchange network could spread species hundreds of kilometres within only a few generations — vastly faster than traditional natural dispersal models allow.

What appears impossible under static ecological models becomes entirely plausible once prehistoric mobility is properly considered.

Doggerland Changes the Entire Context

This is where Doggerland becomes critically important.

A connected North Sea plain linking Britain to continental Europe would not merely have allowed human migration — it would have enabled continuous ecological exchange across vast interconnected river systems.

The prehistoric populations living within this landscape may have accelerated the spread of:

oak
hazel
edible plants
fungi
wetland species
and managed woodland environments

far beyond what purely natural dispersal models predict.

In this sense, Reid may have uncovered two related truths long before archaeology was prepared to accept either of them:

Britain was once connected to Europe by a vast lost landscape.
Mesolithic humans were likely far more mobile, interconnected, and environmentally influential than traditional archaeology once believed.

The Real Lesson

The irony is remarkable.

Clement Reid identified both Doggerland and the plant migration paradox decades before the technologies or archaeological models existed to fully explain them.

In both cases, the underlying issue may have been the same:

Archaeology consistently underestimated the sophistication, mobility, and scale of prehistoric human systems.

Doggerland was not an empty wilderness at the edge of Europe.

It may have been part of a vast interconnected riverine world whose people reshaped landscapes, ecosystems, and biological dispersal patterns thousands of years before conventional history was prepared to recognise it.

Conclusion

Doggerland now stands as one of the most important prehistoric discoveries in Europe.

But its history should also serve as a warning.

In 1913, Clement Reid proposed that a drowned prehistoric landscape once connected Britain to Europe. His conclusions were treated cautiously and remained outside mainstream archaeological thinking for decades.

Then, half a century later, oil companies searching for hydrocarbons accidentally proved him correct.

The tragedy is not that Reid was ahead of his time.

The tragedy is that archaeology required industrial geology and offshore oil exploration to finally accept what the evidence had already been suggesting for years.

Doggerland should therefore be remembered not only as a lost world beneath the North Sea —

But as a reminder that scientific progress depends upon questioning certainty, not protecting it.

PODCAST

Author’s Biography

Robert John Langdon, a polymathic luminary, emerges as a writer, historian, and eminent specialist in LiDAR Landscape Archaeology.

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Other Blogs

2024 Prehistoric Britain Blog Review

8000-year-old Cro-Magnon skull

Vikings, Doggerland, and the Last Survivors of Europe’s Lost Waterworld

Stonehenge’s The Lost Circle Revealed – DEBUNKED

Posted on April 14, 2026 by admin

13 things that don’t make sense about Waun Mawn (Stonehenge’s The Lost Circle Revealed)

Introduction

According to the BBC documentary, the discovery of the bluestone quarry in Wales was presented as a major breakthrough in understanding Stonehenge. At face value, that seems fair enough. Identifying a potential source for the stones is important.

But this is where the problem begins.

Because from that point onward, the investigation appears to shift away from asking what the evidence actually shows… and toward trying to make the evidence fit an already established timeline.

Instead of examining the quarry independently and comparing it objectively with Stonehenge, the focus becomes finding dates that support a pre-existing conclusion. That is not how science works. When you start with the answer and work backwards, you are no longer testing a hypothesis — you are trying to confirm one.

Craig Rhos-y-Felin is a good example of this.

Craig Rhos-Y-Felin from Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed - Stonehenge's the lost circle — Craig Rhos-Y-Felin: Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed

The site contains clear evidence of Mesolithic activity, particularly in the form of man-made hearths. That should be the starting point for interpretation. Yet the emphasis is instead placed on a small number of later samples that fall closer to the desired Neolithic timeframe.

When those dates still don’t quite align, the solution is not to question the model — it is to introduce another one. A “prototype” stone circle in Wales was later moved to Stonehenge. A theory designed not from evidence, but from necessity.

And so begins a decade-long search for that missing link.

Sites are proposed… then quietly dropped when the dates don’t match. New locations are suggested… then abandoned for the same reason. The pattern repeats. The goal is no longer discovery — it is validation.

Eventually, everything converges on Waun Mawn.

(Stonehenge's The Lost Circle Revealed) — **(Stonehenge’s The Lost Circle Revealed)**

This is presented as the long-awaited solution. But when you strip it back, the physical evidence is extremely limited. A handful of stones. A small number of possible stone holes. Nowhere near enough to replicate what exists at Stonehenge.

So the gaps are filled in.

Estimates are extended beyond what is actually present. Missing stones are assumed. Layouts are reconstructed from partial data. And suddenly, a fragment becomes a full circle.

Then we come to the dating.

Among a broad range of results spanning several millennia, one sample is highlighted as aligning with the proposed timeline. The rest — which do not support the theory — receive far less attention.

This is the core issue. You cannot treat a single favourable result as definitive while ignoring the wider dataset. That is not strengthening an argument — it is narrowing it.

The same pattern appears in other parts of the interpretation.

Large stones at the quarry are presented as the source of Stonehenge’s bluestones, despite clear differences in size and shape. No explanation is provided for how they were reduced or reworked.

Transport by water is dismissed, despite experimental demonstrations showing it is entirely possible. Instead, overland transport through heavily forested and waterlogged terrain is presented as the more feasible option — a claim that raises more questions than it answers.

Even the more technical aspects, such as photogrammetry, are used in ways that assume ideal conditions. A stone is said to match a socket, without addressing the simple fact that removing a stone alters the shape of that socket. Basic mechanical realities are overlooked.

And then, towards the end, the programme drifts into broader speculation — cultural movements, symbolic alignments, and generalised astronomical claims. These are presented confidently, but without the level of supporting evidence required to justify them.

Meanwhile, key inconsistencies remain unresolved.

Stonehenge contains 56 bluestone positions. Waun Mawn does not. The construction methods differ. The depth of the stone holes differs. The overall structure is not the same.

These are not small details. There are fundamental differences.

So what are we left with?

Not a clear, evidence-led conclusion — but a narrative built around selective interpretation. Certain data points are emphasised. Others are downplayed. Gaps are filled with theory rather than evidence.

The result is compelling television.

But it is not robust science.

Because real scientific analysis does not depend on finding the right answer.

It depends on being willing to accept when the evidence points somewhere else entirely.

The Documentary

Therefore, the last hope for MPP’s reputation and his ’10-year search’ fell upon Waun Mawn, culminating in the BBC documentary “Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed”, shown on the 12th February 2021. In it, he claimed many so-called ‘facts’ which I shall now highlight as ‘not making sense’, with the reasons why.

1. At (13:20) MPP shows signs of human-made quarrying and splitting of Bluestones at Carn Goedog in Wales – unfortunately, there are no extensive excavation reports on this site, just a published review showing that of the 31 carbon dates, only three random samples support his theory and none of the man-made hearths which are Mesolithic (like Craig Rhos-Y-Felin) or late Neolithic.

2. The program showed the suggested quarried stones at Carn Goedog, which are over 12 feet long and 5 feet wide, weighing therefore around 20+ tonnes. The Stonehenge bluestones are, on average, less than six feet high and about 18–24 inches wide, weighing 1-3 tonnes. The review on the site offered no evidence that the stones were cut down and reshaped for the journey to Stonehenge or elsewhere. (Stonehenge’s The Lost Circle Revealed)

Carn Goedog from Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed (Stonehenge's The Lost Circle Revealed) — Carn Goedog – Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed

3. MPP claims that the boat transport method (14.50) was infeasible as they did not have sturdy enough boats to carry the stones on such a journey – Sadly, you do not need a ‘boat’ to transport stones in a river as shown by Atkinson in the 1960’s who employed just four school kids to punt a raft with a 3 tonne stone attached down the Avon. Moreover, he has failed to recognise that the oldest boatyard in the world, located in the Solent (at the end of the Avon), was found with planked wood (and associated wheat grain from Turkey), indicating that substantial seafaring boats were available by the 7th Millennium BCE.

Punting Bluestone down the Avon from Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed (Stonehenge's The Lost Circle Revealed) — Clearly MPP was too young to see this punt down the Avon?

4. Mike Parker-Pearson also suggested that an ‘ox-cart’ route that followed the current A40 was the most feasible way of transporting these stones to Stonehenge. He believed that they dragged these stones over 200 km on wooden sledges – unfortunately, the example shown on the program shows schoolboys dragging a small stone over flat grassland, which would not be available for another 4000+ years and after Stonehenge’s initial construction. At the time of Phase I construction, the environment (as indicated by pollen analysis) shows that 70% of the terrain was woodland and forest, and the remaining 30% was mostly rivers and swampland, making such an endeavour impossible.

5. The Discovery (21:15) of ‘random’ hazel nuts at Craig Rhos-Y-Felin provides MPP’s required date for Stonehenge of 3300 BCE (which is still 500 years before MPP’s supposed construction date) – This clear ‘cherry picking’ of the archaeological evidence is ‘Bad Science’. To take just two carbon dates from over 40 at the Craig-Rhos-Y-Felin site and ignoring the more solid man-made hearth dates, which are Mesolithic and moreover, compatible with 26 carbon dates found at Stonehenge, is plainly a falsehood.

6. When they eventually found their target site (36:15), Waun Mawn (after many claims that other sites were “the one we have been looking for” to eventually find that the carbon dating on these sites did not match the required date), they found just four bluestones, and so went on a stone hunt and found 10 further stone HOLES! – This is clearly a sad attempt to fit a square peg into a round hole. The excavation was flawed as it only identified 14 possible stone locations and the remainder of the estimated 15 – 25 stones was a ‘guesstimation’ based on the known 14 holes – two of which had non-bluestone stones in situ.

Waun Maun from Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed (Stonehenge's The Lost Circle Revealed) — Nowhere near the 56 stones needed to create Stonehenge Phase I

7. The BBC reconstruction shows just 28 stones (38:05) of the 56 Bluestones required for the Aubrey holes to be filled at Stonehenge, and MPP goes on to suggest, that the stone circle is of equal size and dimensions as Stonehenge, quote “the chances of the two sites having the EXACT dimensions are very slim”- This sadly, is another falsehood, the Moat/Ditch at Stonehenge is approximately 110 metres in diameter, NOT the Aubrey holes which are 90 metres in diameter. Moreover, Stonehenge has a ditch/moat surrounding the stones (for a good reason) Waun Mawn does not!!

8. MPPs then used a new, unused tool in archaeology to prove their hypothesis, ‘photogrammetry’, and suggested that Stone 62 at Stonehenge fitted the stone hole 91 at Waun Mawn. The reason this method is not used is somewhat obvious to even non-academics. You would need a crane to lift the stone vertically out of the hole to get an exact imprint. If you are taking out a stone by hand and/or with levers, you will rock it from side to side, destroying the stone hole impression, as we have seen with post holes in numerous excavations.

9. The program fails to report that the 40 carbon dates from wood found on the site did not come up with MPP’s magic date, and so he employed another form of Dating OSL (40:17) to find this single piece of evidence he desperately required. – Sadly, watching Dr Kim Kinnaird’s efforts to get a light, uncontaminated sample from over a fallen Stone summed up the state of archaeology as a science for me. Armed with a black weed blocker and a bicycle light on his head, he set forth to get a sample to prove MPP’s hypothesis. Anyone who considers this an effective way of obtaining an OSL sample is beyond scientific redemption, as logic would suggest; doing it at night would perhaps be more suitable. This was finally compounded when we saw him transporting the sample in his hand into the detector in daylight, which was pure icing on that flawed cake.

10. Roberts indicated (quite rightly) that ALL the dates were “way out” and all hopes were put on this one sample, MPP then claimed (42:20) “we had dated the thing, and it just before Stonehenge’s construction” (3300 BCE) – Sadly, and not report in the program, but within the Waun Mawn excavation report, there was not one OSL samples taken but 18, which gave results in the range of 6980+/- 2120 BCE to AD 1900 +/- 20. So the 17 dating sample did not verify MPP’s hypothesis, only a single one, which was dated 3530 +/- 330 (with that date range, the probability it’s 3300 BCE is slim!!).In fact, the OSL data in the review document suggested “removal of the stones” in 2120 +/- 520 BCE, long after the Stonehenge phase I.

11. The program then went onto a flight of fantasy for 15 minutes (25% OF AIR TIME) with unscientific mythology and astroarchaeology (which proved MORE that astroarchaeology doesn’t have any significance as the ‘expert’ suggested that the stones were ‘in the general direction’ of an alignment – which by the very nature of a stone circle of 360 degrees – every stone circle in the world is in the general direction of all astrological alignments!! Even more ludicrous came an idea that the Welsh culturally invaded England in 3300 BCE and took the stones of Waun Mawn with them –Sadly, at no point did the experts attempt to justify why Stonehenge had 56 Bluestones and the site at Waun Mawn had less than 30 at the most. Even if this idea were remotely true, why would you leave four stones behind when you are already going to be 30 stones short and need to go back and get some more from the quarry site?

12. The program never went into any detail of the OTHER carbon dates found at Waun Mawn, which would have allowed a balanced scientific program, allowing the viewer to decide whether MPP’s hypothesis was actually feasible. It presented speculation as fact, with a number of site workers and the presenter agreeing on MPP’s ideas without question or qualification – this is commonly known as ‘propaganda’ rather than scientific methodology. Moreover, the REAL evidence can be found in the report and shows that of the carbon dating evidence at Waun Mawn (the OSL data was excluded from the report accept a small paragraph without all data!) shows that of the 42 samples taken:

1 – sample were of 9th Millennium BCE
3 – samples were of the 8th Millennium BCE
8 – samples were of the 7th Millennium BCE
4 – samples were of the 6th Millennium BCE
10 – samples were of the 5th Millennium BCE
6 – samples were of the 4th Millennium BCE
11- samples from the 4th Millennium BCE to 17 AD.

13. The report on Waun Mawn contains other questionable evidence, which was excluded from the program. This includes the fact that the Aubrey holes at Stonehenge are ALL two to three times deeper than at Waun Mawn. This indicates that the Stonehenge Bluestones were made from larger bluestones than those at Waun Mawn (Stonehenge Bluestone hole 69 is over 1.5m deep, as it is long and thin). It looks as if the original stone circle at Waun Mawn was made up of stones similar in shape to the existing recumbent stone 13, which is 6– 7 feet tall and surrounded by a moat. The shape of recumbent 13 indicates that rather than the long thin bluestones as at Stonehenge, Waun Mawn had ‘fat bottomed’ domed ends and hence the need for only shallow ditches.

Recumbent Stone 13 Waun Mawn from Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed — recumbent stone 13; Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed

Stonehenge Bluestone 69 from Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed — Stonehenge Bluestone 69 – a third is underground. Stonehenge: The Lost Circle Revealed

Conclusion

In conclusion, it seems that the BBC has produced a nice piece of archaeological propaganda that supports the current false ‘archaeological narrative’ of mythology and speculation, rather than tested and qualified scientific fact. This lack of ‘critical analysis’ is a clear indication of why the ‘science’ of archaeology has not progressed much over the last 50 years, even with modern technology, which it has incorporated to very limited success.

Memoir

I first met MPP on his excavation dig on the Avon in 2009, where he was preparing to announce his bluestone site, ‘Bluestonehenge’. At the time, we had a discussion about the date of the site, as he was convinced that (at that time) he believed it predated Stonehenge Phase I (we now know this was the first of many claims of a predated Stonehenge bluestone circle). I did point out that at the meeting that I thought this date would be incorrect as according to my research (of the surrounding 50 sites around Stonehenge) which was included in my published book and post-glacial flooded environment hypothesis ‘The Stonehenge Enigma’ in 2013 – that this site would have been below water as the River Avon would remain flooded throughout the Neolithic period. At this point, he ended the meeting and disappeared at such a rapid speed – it looked as if he thought I was clearly mad.

Later carbon dating proved my point and supported my hypothesis, as it is now accepted that Bluehenge was constructed between 2840 and 2230 BCE, in the Early Bronze Age.

PODCAST

Author’s Biography

Robert John Langdon, a polymathic luminary, emerges as a writer, historian, and eminent specialist in LiDAR Landscape Archaeology.

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Other Blogs

2024 Prehistoric Britain Blog Review

8000-year-old Cro-Magnon skull

Vikings, Doggerland, and the Last Survivors of Europe’s Lost Waterworld

Digging for Britain – Cerne Abbas

Posted on April 12, 2026 by admin

Introduction

In a recent instalment of Digging for Britain, Alice Roberts stirred the archaeological debate by asserting that the Dorset Chalk Giant at Cerne Abbas had Saxon origins rather than prehistoric roots. This added a layer of intrigue, especially from a landscape archaeology perspective. At first glance, the giant’s features appear to echo a much earlier connection, reminiscent of other chalk figures found elsewhere in Britain, where their placement within the landscape suggests a deeper, functional context.

Curiosity led to a closer look at the methods used to date this iconic figure, and the findings raise several important questions. While the programme presents a clear and confident conclusion, a deeper inspection reveals fundamental issues and omissions that call into question its reliability. This is not just about one site but about broader methodological problems in archaeology, particularly the uncritical acceptance of dating approaches that underpin many historical assumptions.

The primary technique involved excavating four small trenches and penetrating approximately 1 m into the topsoil to extract samples. The underlying assumption is that the surface beneath the chalk line represents the original ground level and therefore provides the latest possible date for the figure’s creation. While the theory itself is not unreasonable, the reliance on just four sampling points raises serious concerns about the representativeness of the results.

To fully support such a method, variations across the entire area beneath the figure would need to be taken into account. Limited sampling introduces the risk of missing key variations in the soil and sediment, which could significantly alter the dating outcome. Scientific investigation depends on comprehensive data, and without it, conclusions remain open to question.

(Digging for Britain - Cerne Abbas) — Snail used to date the chalk figuare

In addition, the programme does not fully explore alternative interpretations or the potential impact of environmental processes on the site. This becomes particularly important when considering evidence from other studies, in which larger datasets have shown a wide range of dates from similar contexts. In one such case, forty-two samples produced dates ranging from the ninth millennium BCE through to the historic period, yet only a subset was used to support the final interpretation. This raises an obvious question about the selection and exclusion of data.

The reliance on a very small number of samples for OSL dating introduces a substantial margin of uncertainty. Across a large area such as this, variation is expected. With such limited data, the resulting data range cannot be considered definitive. The methodology, including how samples are collected and interpreted, does not meet the level of precision expected in modern scientific analysis.

Stonehenge’s The Lost Circle Revealed – DEBUNKED

There is also a fundamental geological factor that appears to have been overlooked. The site sits on a steep slope, where soil creep is an ongoing process. Even at a conservative rate, soil can move approximately one metre over a thousand years. This means that materials such as snails and sediments beneath the figure are not necessarily in their original position. Over long periods, they can be displaced downslope, disconnecting them from the original context to which they were dated.

The physical construction of the figure itself also raises questions. The current form sits within topsoil rather than being cut directly into the underlying chalk bedrock. From a practical perspective, a prehistoric construction would be more logically cut into solid chalk to ensure durability and reduce maintenance needs. The fact that the figure requires ongoing upkeep suggests a different history, potentially involving phases of covering and reworking.

Historical accounts suggest that subsequent activity may have altered or preserved the figure, raising the possibility that what is visible today is not the original construction. This opens the question of whether an earlier figure existed beneath the current one, potentially modified or replaced at a later date.

The landscape context adds further complexity. The figure is positioned at the edge of a range of hills rather than at its highest point, and its full form is clearly visible only from elevated viewpoints. This challenges the idea of it functioning as a simple ground-level marker and instead suggests that its placement may relate to a broader landscape system that is no longer immediately visible.

When all of these factors are considered together, the conclusion presented in the programme appears far less certain than initially suggested. The evidence does not point to a simple, single-phase construction, but rather to a more complex history influenced by geological processes, environmental change, and possible later modification.

Archaeological interpretation must remain grounded in robust, testable methods. When conclusions rely on limited data, untested assumptions, or incomplete consideration of environmental factors, they risk presenting certainty where uncertainty remains.

The Dorset Chalk Giant is not a straightforward case. It is a reminder that understanding the past requires not just data, but careful evaluation of how that data is gathered, interpreted, and applied.

The next stage of analysis will examine the wider landscape using LiDAR data, with the aim of reconstructing how this site functioned in a prehistoric environment and what it may originally have represented.

Part 2

Now, in this second part, our focus shifts to the professionalism of archaeologists involved in such endeavours and, by extension, the broader state of the archaeological profession in the 21st century. A critical lens is turned towards the National Trust’s excavation efforts, particularly the four trenches dedicated to OSL dating. Despite the extensive timeframe of over two years for this undertaking, the conspicuous absence of an official report raises concerns about transparency and the ability of other knowledgeable individuals to conduct scrutiny. This delay in producing and sharing findings with the wider community calls into question the efficiency and accessibility of archaeological information.

The quality of documentation further comes into question, as hand-drawn cross-sections, seemingly rushed and lacking the meticulous detail expected in rigorous scientific practices, were presented. This not only reveals an apparent ‘back of an envelope’ approach but also underscores a profound oversight by the experts. Despite having two years for scrutiny and examination, critical questions were left unexplored, a shortcoming magnified by the collaboration with the BBC for the televised program.

Cerne Abbas

The absence of a comprehensive and timely report, coupled with the apparent lack of attention to detail in documentation, casts doubt on the thoroughness and professionalism of the archaeological efforts surrounding Cerne Abbas. The urgency to present findings to the media and create a documentary may have compromised the meticulousness required in archaeological endeavours.

This prompts a broader reflection on the state of the archaeological profession itself. The slow pace of report publication, potential gaps in expertise, and a seeming reluctance to subject findings to rigorous scrutiny raise concerns about the discipline’s agility and accountability in contemporary times.

The deficiencies in the excavation process around Cerne Abbas become more apparent when we scrutinise the placement of the trenches and the sampling locations. The hand-drawn illustrations (which I consider ‘outdated’ in an era of affordable, widely available 3D high-definition cameras) indicate that samples were taken from the topsoil just above the chalk bedrock. However, a photograph reveals a more accurate location at the bottom of the topsoil, near the chalk bedrock, leading to the conclusion that it is Saxon.

Poor Conclusions

A critical oversight emerges when we consider the implications of the Saxon date. If accurate, the absence of topsoil dating back thousands of years raises intriguing questions. Three plausible scenarios are explored: the deliberate removal of soil before the construction of Cerne Abbas, the initial absence of soil, or inaccuracies in OSL dating.

Option one, soil removal, implies an intention to obliterate what was originally present, raising logistical questions about the necessity for such an extensive process compared to the simplicity of laying new lines on existing chalk.

Option two speculates on the absence of soil due to something atop the bedrock, a theory we will delve into further.

Option three questions the accuracy of OSL dates, which, if proven, could cast doubt on the entire OSL science.

Option two gains credence when exploring the Post-Glacial Hypothesis, which is grounded in the notion of elevated sea levels in prehistoric times. LiDAR imagery of the site reveals a landscape shaped by Mesolithic waters, with identified natural harbours and Neolithic camps indicating the higher historical river levels. Archaeological findings, including tools and earthworks, support the hypothesis that the river running parallel to the figure was significantly higher during the Neolithic period.

Prehistoric Landscape

This scenario accounts for approximately 7,000 years with no topsoil in the figure. Examining the bedrock reveals signs of extensive water weathering, consistent with chalk erosion over thousands of years. The excavation report and photographs reveal broken chalk at the base of the topsoil, indicating water-induced erosion and redeposition. The darkened appearance, a result of drying after being broken and re-laid on top, mirrors the common impact of water on solid chalk.

Further evidence points to Post-Glacial Flooding and a Neolithic origin of the figure, which strategically marks the entrance to the harbour. LiDAR maps suggest a man balancing a load on his shoulders or head, potentially representing a trading centre surrounded by quarries and mining pits.

Original Cerne Abbas figure according to AI – Digging for Britain Debunked – Cerne Abbas

The intricacies of Cerne Abbas, when viewed through the lens of geological processes and archaeological evidence, unfold a narrative of ancient landscapes shaped by water, a figure emerging from millennia of erosion, and a Neolithic trading hub leaving its mark on the chalky canvas of history.

Long Man of Wilmington

NB. The findings at The Long Man of Wilmington by Prof. Martin Bell show very similar findings and geology as Cerne Abbas –

“Our method was to machine cut a trench at the base of the slope to look at the sediment sequence, then carefully hand excavate an adjoining strip, recording in three dimensions the positions of all artefacts, no matter how modern, in order to date each layer.

At the base of our trench, there were chalk meltwater muds from a time of rapid physical weathering at the end of the last Ice Age. Above these were bowl-shaped features, perhaps tree-throw pits, because they contained land snails from woodland habitats, indicating that this part of the slope had been wooded earlier in the Postglacial. They also contained some flint flakes, so they could be archaeological features.

Over this was a buried soil. Ed Rhodes, formerly of the Research Laboratory for Archaeology at Oxford, now of the Australian National University, has used OSL to date this soil to the mid-2nd millennium BC. The snails show that by this time, the landscape was open. Later in the Bronze Age, the soil was buried by more soil derived from cultivation at the base of the slope. Snails show that the escarpment above was grassland. Many sites on the South Downs show evidence for quite extensive Bronze Age soil erosion. Bronze Age and Neolithic pottery and flints from the basal soil and the colluvium indicate that a settlement was nearby.”

They called the broken chalk we saw in these excavations ‘chalk meltwater muds’, and he is correct, but this kind of deposit can only be produced by thousands of years of water erosion, not a couple of hundred, and his OSL dates confirm this, as just above this level is an OSL date of 2,000 BCE. We have 8,000 years of topsoil missing as the site, like Carne Abbass, was covered with river water, creating another natural harbour – and would you believe it – it also has a Neolithic.

PODCAST

Author’s Biography

Robert John Langdon, a polymathic luminary, emerges as a writer, historian, and eminent specialist in LiDAR Landscape Archaeology.

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Other Blogs

2024 Prehistoric Britain Blog Review

8000-year-old Cro-Magnon skull

Vikings, Doggerland, and the Last Survivors of Europe’s Lost Waterworld

Real-World Confirmation of Post-Glacial Flooding

Posted on April 11, 2026 by admin

Introduction

Recently, I received a message from my friend Chris at Lambourne Photography, who shared new winter photos of Avebury. The landscape, experiencing recorded rainfall, has begun to flood, capturing my keen interest. This flooding aligns with the predictions in my prehistoric Avebury maps, considering the post-glacial flooding during the Mesolithic period (10k to 4k BCE) – (Real-World Confirmation of Post-Glacial Flooding)

Copyright – Lambourne Photography (Real-World Confirmation of Post-Glacial Flooding)

It’s intriguing that Avebury received 70mm (3 inches) of rain over the last 30 days. However, reflecting on the end of the Ice Age and the substantial melt, Avebury would have encountered the equivalent of 98,425 inches of rain. Common sense implies that this area would have experienced significant flooding, corroborated by the British Geological Maps, albeit not entirely accurate, which illustrate the extent of post-glacial flooding, with the Kennet River ten times wider than its present size. (Avebury Post-Glacial Flooding)

The photographs depict the flooding extending West around the Avebury Stone circle—as indicated on both British Geological Survey (BGS) map but more precisely with the area indicated in my LiDAR maps. This serves as empirical evidence supporting the Post-Glacial Flooding Hypothesis and reinforces my assertion that LiDAR is the paramount landscape-mapping tool, regrettably underutilised by archaeologists to their disadvantage.(Avebury Post-Glacial Flooding)

The significance of this was underscored in the recent episode of ‘Digging for Britain,’ where a settlement was discovered. The attempt to justify its location and function relied on a modern OS map, leading to an absurd and inaccurate conclusion—namely, that it served a ceremonial purpose rather than a functional trading place at the river’s edge. This further underscores the limitations of traditional mapping methods and the value that LiDAR brings to understanding past topologies. (Avebury Post-Glacial Flooding)

Avebury through time

In the heart of Wiltshire, England, lies the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Avebury, shrouded in mystery and wonder. For years, archaeologists and historians have delved into its enigmatic past, uncovering secrets buried beneath layers of time and earth. Yet, Avebury still held one final, astonishing revelation waiting to be unearthed, and it was the relentless pursuit of author and cartographer Robert John Langdon that would shed light on this long-forgotten secret.

Avebury Post-Glacial Flooding (copyright Lambourne Photography) — Silbury Hill showing how the Kennet Flooded around the base – Avebury Post-Glacial Flooding copyright Lambourne Photography

Avebury, with its iconic stone circles and ancient monuments, has fascinated explorers and scholars for centuries. Among its well-known features are ‘West Kennet Avenue’ and ‘Beckhampton Avenue,’ both adorned with colossal stones that still stand as silent sentinels of a long-gone age. These avenues have been pivotal in our understanding of Avebury’s past, connecting the spiritual and historical aspects of this sacred site. However, Langdon’s unrelenting quest to unravel Avebury’s mysteries led him down an uncharted path, one that would challenge conventional wisdom and rewrite the history of this remarkable place.

At the heart of this newfound understanding was the colossal enigma of Silbury Hill, the largest man-made monument in prehistoric Europe. Silbury Hill had confounded archaeologists for generations, with theories ranging from religious symbolism to ceremonial significance. Yet, Langdon boldly proclaimed that Silbury Hill had a far more practical and ingenious purpose—an ancient ‘Lighthouse’ that guided seafarers to the trading port of Avebury.

This notion, while revolutionary, was not without evidence. Langdon explained that his research indicated that Silbury Hill had indeed flooded in the distant past, making it logical to assume that it was repurposed as a harbour when the waters receded from the main Avebury site. The construction of Silbury Hill in stages, starting small and gradually growing taller, suggested a pragmatic approach rather than a symbolic one. According to Langdon, the height of the mound would have served as a beacon, attracting ships and boats to the trading centre and making it an essential feature for maritime navigation.

To many, Langdon’s claims may seem audacious, but they align with the findings of dowsers in 2011. At the top of the newly discovered Stone Avenue, these dowsers found a series of stone holes precisely where Langdon’s photographic evidence indicated they were. The convergence of these findings strengthened Langdon’s case, providing compelling support for his audacious theory.

While confirmation through excavation is the next logical step, Langdon’s research has already ignited a vibrant discussion within the archaeological and historical communities. His perspective challenges our preconceived notions of prehistoric Britain, revealing a thriving civilisation that engaged in far-reaching trade and commerce. The idea of Avebury as a bustling trading hub paints a picture of interconnectedness and shared culture, where societies traded not only goods but also ideas, beliefs, and traditions.

In the realm of historical discovery, it is often the audacious thinkers, the mavericks who dare to question established narratives, who propel our understanding forward. Robert John Langdon is undeniably one of these thinkers. With a deep passion for history and an unyielding commitment to his research, he has unearthed a hidden chapter in the story of Avebury—one that transcends time and offers fresh insights into our shared human history.

As Langdon’s trilogy, ‘The Stonehenge Enigma,’ continues to explore these groundbreaking theories, it beckons us to embark on a journey of discovery, to challenge our assumptions, and to embrace the possibility that the past is far more complex and interconnected than we ever imagined. Avebury, with its ancient stones and enigmatic avenues, continues to whisper its secrets to those who dare to listen, inviting us to see history through a new lens—one illuminated by the audacious vision of Robert John Langdon.

The Silbury Lighthouse and the Flooded Stones: 4 Surprising Truths About Prehistoric Avebury

When winter rains recently swept across Avebury, the resulting floods captured by Lambourne Photography did more than just saturate the soil. For those looking closely, the rising waters acted as a real-time simulation of a long-lost era, providing empirical evidence for a landscape we have forgotten. These modern pools align perfectly with prehistoric maps, offering a glimpse into the landscape as it existed during the Mesolithic period between 10,000 and 4,000 BCE.

According to author and cartographer Robert John Langdon, this contemporary flooding is the “ground truth” for his Post-Glacial Flooding Hypothesis. While we see a landscape of dry fields and small streams today, the geological evidence suggests a much more aqueous past. By observing how the water moves now, we can begin to understand why our ancestors chose this specific site for their most massive monuments.

The 98,000-Inch Rain: Reimagining the Post-Glacial Landscape

To understand the scale of the ancient environment, we must look at the sheer volume of water released at the end of the last Ice Age. While Avebury recently made headlines for receiving 3 inches (70mm) of rain in a month, that is a mere drop compared to the post-glacial melt. Langdon calculates that during the ice melt, the region would have encountered the equivalent of 98,425 inches of rain.

This massive influx of water transformed the geography of Wiltshire into something unrecognisable to modern eyes. While British Geological Survey (BGS) maps are not entirely accurate in every respect, they provide vital corroboration of this watery reality.

“Common sense implies that this area would have experienced significant flooding, corroborated by the British Geological Maps, albeit not entirely accurate, illustrating the extent of post-glacial flooding with the Kennet River ten times wider than its present size.”

Traditional archaeological interpretations often lack this “common sense” approach, failing to account for the significant role that higher water levels played in dictating human activity. By ignoring the geological reality of a wider Kennet River, we miss the primary reason why these sites were established. These monuments were not random; they were strategically positioned along the ancient shorelines of a flooded world.

Trading Hub or Temple? The Functional Shift

For decades, the “ceremonial” label has been the default explanation for almost every prehistoric site in Britain. However, Langdon argues that this view is an absurdity born from using modern Ordnance Survey maps to define ancient functions. A recent episode of ‘Digging for Britain’ highlighted this disconnect when a settlement found at the river’s edge was labelled ceremonial simply because its location didn’t make sense on a modern map.

When viewed through the lens of higher water levels, Avebury reveals itself not as an isolated temple but as a bustling trading hub. These colossal stones stand as silent sentinels to an age when the site was a centre for commerce and maritime interaction. This reinterpretation suggests a sophisticated, interconnected society that utilised Britain’s waterways for trade, rather than a collection of isolated, ritual-obsessed tribes.

By acknowledging the strategic placement of the shoreline, we see that the builders were master logisticians. They utilised the landscape’s natural hydrology to facilitate movement and exchange. The whispers of the past suggest that Avebury was the heart of a vibrant, seafaring economic network.

The Silbury Lighthouse: A Beacon for Ancient Mariners

Silbury Hill stands as the largest man-made monument in Europe, yet its purpose has remained one of archaeology’s greatest enigmas. While often dismissed as a religious or symbolic mound, the Post-Glacial Flooding Hypothesis provides a far more pragmatic explanation. Langdon suggests that as the waters receded, Silbury Hill was constructed in stages to serve as maritime infrastructure.

Rather than a silent grave or a place of worship, the mound functioned as a guide for those navigating the flooded plains.

“Silbury Hill had a far more practical and ingenious purpose—an ancient ‘Lighthouse’ that guided seafarers to the trading port of Avebury.”

This maritime theory explains why the hill was built in stages, growing taller over time to remain visible as a beacon for incoming ships. Langdon’s research further indicates that as the climate changed, the site was eventually repurposed as a harbour when the waters receded from the main Avebury site. This transformation into a piece of sophisticated nautical infrastructure completely changes our perspective on the engineering capabilities of prehistoric Britons.

LiDAR: The Paramount Tool Archaeologists Are Missing

The key to unlocking these secrets lies in LiDAR (Light Detection and Ranging) technology, which allows researchers to see “past topologies” hidden by modern development. Langdon asserts that LiDAR is the most important landscape mapping tool available, yet it remains tragically underutilised by traditional archaeologists. This technology revealed exactly where the ancient shorelines met the monuments and identified lost features like “Silbury Avenue – the Lost Stone Avenue.”

The accuracy of this mapping was strikingly confirmed in 2011 by dowsing results at the top of this newly discovered avenue. Dowsers located stone holes in the exact positions that Langdon’s LiDAR-based research had predicted. This convergence of high-tech scans and physical evidence is forcing a total rewrite of British history.

By using LiDAR to strip away modern distractions, we can finally see the strategic logic of the Mesolithic builders. The technology proves that the landscape was shaped by water levels we are only now beginning to map correctly. It is no longer a matter of speculation, but a matter of seeing the evidence hidden in the earth itself.

Conclusion: Whispers from the Ancient Shoreline

The “Post-Glacial Flooding Hypothesis” invites us to view the British landscape not as a static collection of fields but as a dynamic environment. Avebury changes from a site of mystery into a monument of human ingenuity and maritime success. Our ancestors were not just building stone circles; they were constructing a society centred on water.

As we uncover more evidence of this interconnected world, we must ask ourselves: are we ready to see history through a new lens? Are we prepared to accept that the past is far more complex and strategically minded than we ever imagined?

PODCAST

Author’s Biography

Robert John Langdon, a polymathic luminary, emerges as a writer, historian, and eminent specialist in LiDAR Landscape Archaeology.

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Other Blogs

2024 Prehistoric Britain Blog Review

8000-year-old Cro-Magnon skull

Vikings, Doggerland, and the Last Survivors of Europe’s Lost Waterworld

How Lidar will change Archaeology

Posted on April 10, 2026 by admin

Introduction

In the vast tapestry of human history, there are moments when a single technological shift forces us to stop… reassess… and begin again. (How Lidar will change Archaeology)

Innovation in Archaeology has always pushed the boundaries of understanding.

LiDAR is one of those moments.

For centuries, archaeology has relied on what could be seen from the ground — fragments of banks, ditches, crop marks, and partial excavations. From these fragments, entire narratives have been constructed. Boundaries have been drawn. Timelines fixed. Functions assumed.

With tools like LiDAR, the field of Archaeology is evolving rapidly.

But what happens… when we can suddenly see everything?

Not just isolated sections…
but entire landscapes…
in full resolution…
stripped of vegetation…
revealed exactly as they were left.

How Lidar will change Archaeology — Lost Myan Structues found by LiDAR Archaeology

This paradigm shift in Archaeology is crucial for future research.

That is what LiDAR has done.

And what it is revealing… is not a refinement of existing theories.

It is their collapse.

New findings in Archaeology challenge our previous beliefs.

The Illusion of the “Defensive Dyke”

Linear Earthworks have long been interpreted through a single dominant lens:

👉 Defence
👉 Territory
👉 Warfare

From Offa’s Dyke to Wansdyke, from the Antonine Wall to the Vallum, the assumption has remained largely unchanged — these were barriers. Lines in the landscape built to divide people.

But this interpretation was never based on full evidence.

It was based on partial observation.

Ground surveys… fragmented excavation… and most importantly…
a pre-existing belief that these features must be defensive.

LiDAR removes that limitation.

Understanding landscapes through Archaeology offers fresh insights.

These revelations in Archaeology reveal ancient practices.

And when you remove the trees… the crops… and the modern landscape noise…

A very different picture emerges.

Car Dyke — Britain’s Longest Engineered Water System

One of the most striking discoveries is the true scale of Car Dyke.

In Archaeology, understanding water management is critical.

Previously understood as a Roman drainage feature… its full extent was never properly mapped or understood.

LiDAR changes that completely.

For the first time, we can trace its continuous form across the landscape — revealing it not as a fragmented ditch… but as Britain’s longest engineered linear earthwork.

And critically…

Its form is not defensive.

It is hydrological.

Its consistent alignment…
its relationship to natural gradients…
and its integration with surrounding water systems…

Through Archaeology, we can explore human ingenuity.

All point to a single conclusion:

👉 Car Dyke is a canal system.

Not symbolic.
Not territorial.
But functional.

Designed to move water… manage flow… and connect landscapes.

Collaboration in Archaeology is vital for comprehensive studies.

Wansdyke — Not One Dyke, But Two

LiDAR has also resolved one of the long-standing inconsistencies surrounding Wansdyke.

The role of community in Archaeology cannot be overstated.

Traditionally treated as a single continuous defensive structure, its gaps and inconsistencies have always been difficult to explain.

Now we can see why.

Because it isn’t one structure.

👉 It is two completely separate dykes.

Constructed in different periods, with thousands of years between them.

Their alignments… their construction profiles… and their landscape relationships do not match.

They have been artificially combined into a single narrative… because that narrative required them to be one.

LiDAR shows they are not.

And once separated…

The defensive model collapses entirely.

Insights from Archaeology reveal the complexities of history.

Offa’s Dyke — The Missing 60%

Perhaps the most telling example of interpretive bias is Offa’s Dyke.

For decades, it has been presented as a continuous Mercian frontier — a monumental defensive barrier dividing England and Wales.

But LiDAR reveals a critical truth:

👉 Around 60% of Offa’s Dyke is missing.

Not eroded.
Not damaged.
Not hidden.

Simply… never there.

What has been presented as a continuous defensive structure is in reality a series of disconnected segments.

And those segments do not behave like a defensive line.

New methodologies in Archaeology enhance our understanding.

They align as cross-dykes — interacting with the landscape rather than dominating it.

The earlier surveys… most notably those influenced by Cecil Fox… were not neutral observations.

They were shaped by the assumption of defence.

And once that assumption is removed…

The structure no longer supports the theory.

The Vallum — Not a Barrier, But a Transport System

The Vallum, running alongside Hadrian’s Wall, has long been described as a defensive ditch — part of a complex military boundary.

But again… this interpretation struggles under scrutiny.

Its position… its scale… and its relationship to the Wall itself raise a fundamental question:

Why build a defensive ditch behind your primary defensive structure?

LiDAR provides the answer.

The Vallum aligns not as a barrier…
but as a controlled linear corridor.

A route.

A system.

👉 A transport mechanism.

Used to move materials — including the massive stones required for Hadrian’s Wall — efficiently across the landscape.

Not defence…

But logistics.

A New Interpretation — Water, Not War

When these examples are brought together, a pattern becomes impossible to ignore:

Car Dyke — a canal
Wansdyke — multiple phases, not a single barrier
Offa’s Dyke — incomplete, non-defensive
Vallum — transport, not fortification

These are not isolated anomalies.

They are part of a systemic misinterpretation.

A framework built on the assumption that ancient societies primarily built to defend… divide… and control territory.

LiDAR shows something very different.

👉 They built to manage water
👉 They built to connect landscapes
👉 They built to enable movement and trade

In short…

They engineered environments.

The Hydrological Civilisation

What LiDAR is revealing is not just new data…

But a new type of civilisation.

One that understood:

Water flow
Landscape gradients
Seasonal variation
Long-term environmental change

These Linear Earthworks are not crude barriers.

They are precision-built systems.

And when viewed through the lens of hydrology rather than warfare…

They begin to make sense.

Conclusion — The End of Assumption-Based Archaeology

It removes interpretation… and replaces it with visibility.

No longer are we limited to fragments.

No longer can gaps be filled with assumption.

The landscape is now visible in its entirety.

And what it shows… is clear:

👉 The defensive model of Linear Earthworks in Archaeology is no longer sustainable
👉 The traditional surveys in Archaeology were incomplete — and in many cases, biased
👉 A hydrological and engineering interpretation fits the evidence more closely

LiDAR does something archaeology has long struggled with:

This is not a minor adjustment.

It is a fundamental shift.

A moment where technology forces us to reconsider everything we thought we knew.

As Jacob Bronowski once championed — knowledge advances not by defending old ideas…

…but by having the courage to replace them.

LiDAR has given us that opportunity.

The question now is:

👉 Will archaeology take it?

PodCast

Author’s Biography

Robert John Langdon, a polymathic luminary, emerges as a writer, historian, and eminent specialist in LiDAR Landscape Archaeology.

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The Fury of the Past: Natural Disasters in Historical and Prehistoric Britain

Posted on April 9, 2026 by admin

Introduction

Over recent years, there’s been a growing tendency… to present images of climate in crisis.

Storms tearing through communities…
floods overwhelming towns…
weather described not just as severe… but as something almost theatrical in its intensity.

And alongside these images… comes a familiar language.

We hear about record-breaking rainfall…
unprecedented wind speeds…
and that now well-worn phrase… “since records began.”

It sounds authoritative.
It sounds definitive.

The Fury of the Past: Natural Disasters in Historical and Prehistoric Britain

But it’s worth pausing… just for a moment… to ask a simple question:

What records… exactly… are we talking about?

Because in many cases… those “records” begin surprisingly recently.
Daily observational data, in its most widely used form, only really starts in the early twentieth century — around 1914.

So when we describe a modern year… like 2023… as extreme or unprecedented… we are often comparing it to just over a century of detailed measurement.

And that… is a very narrow window… in the context of climate.

Because the story doesn’t begin there.

We have the England and Wales Precipitation series… stretching back to 1766.
We have the Central England Temperature record… reaching all the way back to 1659.

These are not trivial datasets.
They are the result of generations of careful observation… often by dedicated amateur meteorologists… people who simply watched the skies… and wrote it down.

Together, they offer something far more valuable than a snapshot.

They offer perspective.

A long, continuous conversation between humanity… and the weather.

And yet… paradoxically… these longer records are often pushed aside.
Quietly ignored… or treated as secondary… in favour of modern datasets that fit more neatly into contemporary narratives.

Which raises an important point.

If we are serious about understanding climate…
about understanding flooding…
about understanding extremes…

Then we cannot afford to work from fragments of the record.

We need the full canvas.

Because without that depth… without that historical context…
we risk mistaking variability for anomaly…
and short-term patterns for long-term change.

Perhaps this is where a figure like Jacob Bronowski would urge caution.

Not to dismiss modern science… but to place it within the wider human story.

To recognise that knowledge is cumulative…
that understanding comes from continuity… not selectivity…

And that if we truly want to understand the forces shaping our world…
we must listen not just to the present…

…but to the long memory of the past.

Sky News Online:

“England and Wales have seen the wettest summer for 100 years, according to MeteoGroup. Rainfall for June, July and August was 362mm (14.25in), making it the wettest summer since 1912. The average summer rainfall across the UK is 226.9mm (8.9in). MeteoGroup forecaster Nick Prebble said this summer is set to be the fourth wettest since records began in 1727. The record for the UK’s wettest summer is 1912, when 384.4mm (15.1in) of rain fell.” (The Fury of the Past: Natural Disasters in Historical and Prehistoric Britain)

Let us delve into the fabric of the British summer, as narrated by the Met Office, revealing a tapestry less illuminated by the sun’s grace than in years past. A summer, they tell us, that may be recorded in the annals as one of the dullest, with a mere 399 hours of sunshine until the twilight of August, shadowed only by the year 1980’s modest 396 hours. This narrative unfolds in the aftermath of a Bank Holiday painted in the hues of unsettled weather, where rain and flood alerts draped many parts of the UK.

Joanna Robinson, a sage of weather from Sky News, recounts a tale of a season that began with the wettest June recorded, followed by a July that, too, was cradled in wetness. Yet, as the days of summer waned, the weather found a semblance of calm, only to be disturbed once again as August drew to a close. She speaks of the jet stream, that ethereal conveyor of weather, which, in its wanderings, steered storms across the British Isles that might have otherwise passed us by.

The summer of 2007 looms large in recent memory, its rainfall second only to records dating back to 1912, yet August of this summer hints at being the driest and sunniest. Such observations provoke exclamations of dismay and declarations of the grip of climate change on our world. Yet, a closer scrutiny, a peering into the depths of our climatic past, reveals a narrative less singular in its direction. The year 2007, while remarkable for its summer deluge, does not rank among the highest in annual rainfall, settling instead into the seventeenth position over the last century.

Our engagement with the elements, marked by the ebb and flow of rainfall, stretches back over centuries, with periods of intense precipitation, such as the decade spanning 1870 to 1880, punctuating our history. And between the notable years of 2007 and 2012, 2010 emerged as the eleventh-driest, a reminder of the natural oscillations that characterise our climate.

Grote Mandrenke

Turning our gaze to the winds and gales that sculpt our coastlines, history offers us a lens through which to view these forces in a broader context. The ‘Grote Mandrenke’, a tempest from the annals of the fourteenth century, wrought unparalleled devastation, claiming thousands of lives and altering landscapes and architecture. This event, among others, serves as a testament to the dynamic and often turbulent relationship between humanity and the environment.

In this reflection, inspired by the thoughtful considerations, we are invited to contemplate the narratives of weather and climate not as isolated phenomena but as part of a complex interplay of natural forces, historical events, and human experiences. Through this lens, we gain a deeper appreciation for the intricacies of our world and the myriad ways in which the past informs our understanding of the present and the future.

(Extreme weather and Ancient Subterranean shelters) — Grote Mandrenke 1362 – Extreme weather

In the reflective prose, let us explore the further reaches of our historical and environmental saga, where the dance between humanity and nature continues its timeless rhythm. As the great storm of 1362 stretched its wrath into the North Sea, it conspired with the tides to birth a tempestuous offspring—the storm surge. This phenomenon, a marauder of the coasts, reshaped the contours of the European shore, leaving ports from England to Denmark in ruins, and forever altering the dialogue between land and sea.

Yet, this cataclysm, while monumental, is not an isolated whisper in the annals of our planet’s climatic history. It echoes a more ancient, more profound narrative that commenced with the first settlers in the Mesolithic period. These early denizens of the land faced the capricious moods of a world freshly emerged from the clutches of the last Ice Age—a time when the land itself was a protagonist in a story of transformation and survival.

The landscape, a silent historian, bears the scars and tales of these epochal changes. The retreat of the ice sheets some ten thousand years ago unleashed waters that dwarf our contemporary rainfall measurements, inundating the land with a deluge that would reshape its very skeleton. The annual rainfall pales in comparison to the volumes discharged during this great thaw, when millions of millimetres of water sculpted the British Isles into a new form, carving out riverbeds and creating the floodplains we know today.

British Geological Society

These ancient watercourses, now hidden beneath layers of sediment and time, are revealed to us through the meticulous cartography of the British Geological Society (BGS). Their maps unfurl a tapestry of geological memory, revealing the remnants of vast paleo-river systems that once cradled the waters of the past. The floodplains, marked by their unique sedimentary compositions, are not merely areas prone to contemporary flooding but are the fingerprints of ancient rivers that once dominated the landscape.

Our Mesolithic ancestors, attuned to the rhythm of this waterlogged world, chose the margins of these floodplains for their sacred sites and communal gatherings. Stonehenge, that enigmatic structure, stands as a testament to its profound connection with the land and its waterways. They navigated the flooded realms, moving from isle to isle, their lives intertwined with the ebb and flow of the waters.

The evidence of these ancient flood plains and their impact on human settlement and activity is etched into the very bedrock of our island. A study of the BGS maps reveals a subterranean network of what were once mighty rivers and channels, especially in areas of chalk bedrock like Stonehenge. These geological whispers invite us to consider how our landscape has been shaped by water’s forceful hand, guiding our ancestors and shaping the course of our collective history.

In this contemplation, inspired by Bronowski’s reverence for the intertwining of science, history, and human endeavour, we are reminded of the enduring legacy of our planet’s natural forces. They beckon us to view our present and future through the lens of the deep past, understanding that the stories of storm surges, flooding, and climate are chapters in a much longer narrative of Earth and humanity.

Embarking on a journey of inquiry and reflection, we delve into the enigma of Britain’s dry river valleys. These landscapes, now silent and devoid of flowing waters, serve as a testament to the dynamic and ever-changing canvas of our planet’s geological and climatic history. Known to archaeologists, geologists, and the curious layperson alike as ‘Dry River Valleys,’ these formations beckon us to ponder the forces that sculpted them and the epochs they have witnessed.

Conventional wisdom held that the distinctive contours of these valleys, nestled within the chalk hills, were the handiwork of the Periglacial Phase of the Quaternary Period—a vast expanse of time that began around 2.6 million years ago. Yet the precise moment of their birth remains shrouded in the mists of prehistory, with no concrete evidence to mark their genesis.

Geology, a discipline ever ripe with evolving theories and reinterpretations, suggests these dry valleys were carved by the relentless flow of water, eroding topsoil and smoothing the underlying chalk during the thaw that followed an ice age. Yet the Quaternary Period is marked by a succession of ice ages, each leaving an indelible mark on the land. This presents a quandary for those who seek to understand not just the creation of these valleys, but the epochs in which they thrummed with the lifeblood of flowing rivers.

Post-Glacial Flooding

For archaeologists and geologists, the puzzle lies in discerning which ice age’s thaw sculpted these valleys into the landscape. The challenge is not merely academic; it bears significant implications for understanding the human story intertwined with these natural features. The timing of water coursing through these valleys could illuminate periods of human activity, migration, and settlement, shedding light on the ancient peoples who once lived alongside these now-vanished rivers.

Geological maps and studies suggest the existence of great rivers that once traversed the British Isles, sculpted by the monumental release of water at the end of the ice ages. The last great thaw, occurring some 17,000 years ago as the ice sheets, towering over two miles high in places, receded, would have unleashed floods of epic proportions. This deluge, the most significant in recent geological history, would have transformed the landscape, including the Valleys of the South Downs, far from the ice sheet’s edge.

The intrigue of these dry river valleys lies not solely in their geological formation but in the stories they hold of a world dramatically different from our own. To understand when these valleys last echoed with the sound of flowing water is to peel back layers of time, revealing insights into the climatic shifts that have shaped the earth and influenced the course of human civilisation.

We are witnessing a paradigm shift in our understanding of Britain’s dry river valleys. Modern geological consensus now acknowledges that these features were carved not by the slow, grinding advance of ice but by the dynamic, erosive power of water. This revelation comes from observing the profound examples of soil erosion and the creation of valleys, where millions of gallons of water, moving with relentless force, stripped away layers of earth down to the bedrock.

This narrative finds vivid illustration in the South Downs, where the cliffs and valleys bear silent testimony to ancient, post-glacial rivers. The region, much like the area surrounding Stonehenge, rests upon chalk sedimentary bedrock, shaped by the flows of yesteryear. The presence of these ancient watercourses is betrayed by the layers of sand, silt, and clay that comprise the subsoil, visible in the dales (valleys) of the South Downs and, most strikingly, on the faces of the chalky white cliffs. These cliffs, sculpted by the sea, offer a cross-sectional view into the past, revealing the sedimentary layers left by prehistoric rivers.

Contrary to earlier interpretations that attributed the formation of these geological features to windblown loess or wash from valley walls, the evidence suggests a different story. The discovery of sandy sediments, embedded within the chalk and lying in close proximity to the current topsoil, points to a more dramatic origin. These remnants of ancient rivers, dating back approximately 15,000 years to the aftermath of the last great melt, challenge the prevailing theories.

The puzzle for geologists and archaeologists alike lies in the thin veil of topsoil that covers these ancient sediments. If these valleys were as ancient as previously believed, the question arises: where has the expected accumulation of topsoil gone? Furthermore, if topsoil erosion occurs at the rate some experts claim, how do we account for the presence of 18 inches of topsoil atop the chalk in the present day?

These questions invite a reevaluation of our understanding of the landscape’s history, suggesting that erosion and sedimentation may not conform to the simplistic models previously proposed. The narrative of the South Downs and similar landscapes across Britain is not merely a tale of geological change but a reflection of the complex interplay between the earth’s natural forces and the passage of time.

We find ourselves at a crossroads of questions concerning the sedimentary timelines and the environmental narratives of our ancient landscapes. The enigma of the seemingly scant topsoil overlaying the remnants of prehistoric river beds in places like the South Downs raises profound questions about our understanding of climatic events and geological processes. Are we on the brink of uncovering evidence of a massive climatic upheaval yet to come, one that could dramatically alter the topsoil? Or, perhaps more intriguingly, have we misdated the dry river valleys and the prehistoric river beds that cradle the foundations of our ancient history?

The puzzle deepens as we consider the architectural legacies of our ancestors, such as Woodhenge and the enigmatic site known as Durrington Walls. These ancient monuments, constructed with a profound understanding of their environmental context, may hold clues to the climatic and geological conditions of their time. The location and design of these structures, aligned with natural features and possibly informed by an awareness of floodplains and waterways, suggest a sophisticated interaction with the landscape that transcends mere habitation and ventures into the realm of reverence and ritual.

The construction of Woodhenge, positioned near the curious formation of Durrington Walls, invites speculation about the relationship between human society and the natural world in prehistoric times. Were these monuments erected in response to the environmental challenges faced by their builders, such as flooding or the need to navigate and control water resources? Or did they serve as markers of significant geological features, such as dry river valleys, embedding coded knowledge of the landscape’s history and cyclical transformations in their construction?

These questions compel us to reexamine our interpretations of the archaeological record, challenging us to integrate geological evidence with the cultural and spiritual dimensions of ancient constructions. The apparent discrepancy in the sedimentary record, marked by the proximity of ancient river sediments to the present-day topsoil, may not only point to gaps in our geological dating but also to a more complex understanding of how our ancestors interacted with and adapted to their environment.

Durrington Walls

When you look at Durrington Walls, the first thing that strikes you is that it seems incomplete; it appears as a half-circle in aerial photographs, and from the ground, you get a sense that it is only half-finished. However, most illustrations include the easterly section because magnetometer surveys show more ditches beneath the surface, although you might question their purpose, as they are not apparent. The easterly side of the site was clearly built much later than the original Westside. The East bank is smaller and does not match the initial ditch-and-moat specifications, which were roughly 5.5 m deep, 7 m wide at the bottom, and 18 m wide at the top. (The Fury of the Past: Natural Disasters in Historical and Prehistoric Britain)

The bank was 30 m wide in some areas. The bank and ditch indicated by the magnetometer surveys are less than half that depth; the bank is only about a third the size of the one on the Northern side. The current theory and plan for Durrington Walls do not stand up to investigation, for clearly the Eastern side of the camp was added later, when the prehistoric groundwater had begun to recede.

So what was its original use?

To answer that question, you must look at the site’s terrain, position and layout. The first thing that hits you is that the site is not flat! In fact, it’s a huge bowl.

The suggestion that our forebears might have chosen to establish settlements in locations that, to the modern eye, appear prone to flooding, invites a deeper investigation into the logic and environmental understanding of these ancient communities.

The case of Durrington Walls, traditionally interpreted as a settlement due to the discovery of roundhouse foundations, challenges contemporary notions of ideal habitation sites. The prevailing wisdom that discourages camping on a slope due to the risk of water runoff highlights a modern bias towards flat, stable ground. Yet the archaeological insistence on Durrington Walls as a settlement, despite its topographical peculiarities, might overlook the site’s strategic significance in relation to the environmental conditions of the time.

Harbour

If we entertain the notion of significantly higher prehistoric groundwater levels, Durrington Walls transforms from a seemingly ill-chosen settlement into a potential natural harbour. The site’s configuration, with shallow sides ideal for mooring boats and a central ravine providing depth for watercraft, coupled with the remains of substantial external walls, suggests a sophisticated understanding of landscape and water management by its builders. Such a harbour, protected by formidable chalk walls, would have been a marvel of prehistoric engineering, offering shelter from the elements and facilitating trade or travel.

Woodhenge’s dual entrances further support the hypothesis of a water-centric landscape. One entrance aligns with Durrington Walls, suggesting a terrestrial connection, while the other, leading towards what would have been the ancient shoreline, implies a relationship with waterways. The presence of groundwater at Woodhenge, inferred from magnetometer surveys and the peculiarities of the site’s layout, underscores the adaptability and ingenuity of prehistoric peoples in harnessing their environment.

The evolution of the landscape, mirrored in the receding shoreline over millennia and the adaptation of human structures to these changes, reveals a dynamic interaction between our ancestors and their surroundings. The modern road, tracing the ancient shoreline’s path, serves as a tangible reminder of the deep history embedded in the land.

This reconsideration of Durrington Walls and Woodhenge as components of a prehistoric landscape intimately connected with water challenges us to think beyond conventional archaeological interpretations. It suggests that our ancestors were far from foolish in their choice of settlement locations. Instead, they possessed a profound understanding of their environment, selecting sites based on a complex array of factors, including access to water, natural protection, and the strategic advantages these locations offered.

We should not be too surprised by this, as lakeshores and coastlines still have paths along with them today so that we can fully enjoy them. There is no reason to believe that prehistoric people did anything different 8,000 years ago, and such a path would also have a practical purpose, as the shorelines were used as a mooring site. If we are correct about the road and the mooring points, is it possible to find post holes here underground?

Unbelievably, the answer is yes!

Wainwright, in his excavations of Durrington Walls, discovered lots of them. Without a shoreline, the post holes would look random and not make much sense. However, as soon as the groundwater flooding is added, their function becomes apparent: they held mooring posts, as that is the natural landing area for boats coming to and from Stonehenge, Avebury or Old Sarum. But are there other sites that have walls to protect them from the weather?

Avebury

Navigating through the mysteries of Avebury and its ancient landscapes, we find ourselves in the midst of a dialogue that blends the profound insights of archaeology with the nuanced understanding of geology, much in the spirit of Jacob Bronowski’s interdisciplinary exploration. Avebury, nestled within the chalkland of the Upper Kennet Valley, presents a fascinating case study of human interaction with a dynamically changing environment.

The positioning of Avebury on a low chalk ridge, elevated above the surrounding landscape, and its proximity to the Marlborough Downs, speak to the strategic selection of this site by our ancestors. The discovery of flint artefacts dating to the late Mesolithic period suggests a long history of human presence, perhaps drawn by the natural resources and the strategic vantage point this location offers.

The post-glacial flooding that reshaped the landscape around Avebury, transforming it into an almost island-like monument surrounded by waterways, highlights the profound impact of natural forces on human settlements. The effort to maintain Avebury’s island status through the construction of ditches and large banks reflects a determined human response to a changing environment, aimed at preserving the site’s symbolic or functional significance.

The estimated 1.5 million working hours required to construct the Avebury monument, involving 200 people working full-time for three to four years, underscores the monumental effort invested in this endeavour. This contrasts sharply with the even more staggering effort estimated for the construction of Silbury Hill, suggesting a remarkable dedication of resources and labour to these ancient projects. The discrepancy in the estimated working hours needed to move the respective volumes of chalk at Avebury and Silbury Hill raises intriguing questions about the methods, technologies, and organisational structures of prehistoric societies.

These ancient monuments, Avebury and Silbury Hill, stand as testaments to the ingenuity and resilience of our ancestors, who, faced with a world marked by extreme weather events and changing landscapes, sought to leave their mark through these colossal earthworks. The monumental scale of these projects, achieved without the modern machinery or technological aids available today, invites us to reconsider the capabilities of ancient societies and their profound connection to the landscapes they inhabited.

This is just another fact that does not make sense! –

There is just no consistency in archaeological findings; it’s all subjective, and quite frankly, wrong!

The suggestion that monuments like Avebury evolved gradually over centuries, with their ditches deepening from a modest one meter to the monumental eleven meters over 5,000 years, presents a compelling narrative of continuous human engagement with these sites. This slow but persistent expansion and deepening of the ditches could indeed offer a plausible explanation for the archaeological conundrum of the tools used in their construction.

The incremental growth of these monuments suggests a process deeply intertwined with the rhythms of prehistoric life, in which the maintenance and expansion of the ditches became part of the community’s ongoing relationship with their environment and heritage. The gradual excavation of the ditches, possibly for ritual cleansing, defence, or to expand the monument’s scope, would have allowed the use of simple tools available at the time. This contrasts with the daunting task of constructing such massive earthworks within a single generation, which would have required resources and coordination levels that seem less plausible without sophisticated tools and technologies.

Giant Ditches

The analysis of the ‘chalk mountain’ formed from excavated material offers fascinating insights into the monument’s purpose and symbolism. The calculation that the bank could originally have stood at least 15 meters high, with the potential to reach 20 meters when accounting for chalk compression and air gaps, underscores the monumental effort invested in these structures. This towering presence would have dominated the landscape, serving as a potent symbol of the community’s identity, beliefs, and capabilities.

The bank’s considerable height, derived from the volume of chalk moved from the ditches, also speaks to the technical understanding and engineering skills of the people who built these monuments. The manipulation of the landscape on such a scale, with the tools and knowledge available at the time, demonstrates a sophisticated grasp of materials and a deep connection to the land itself.

This perspective, which sees the monuments growing organically over time, enriches our understanding of the relationship between prehistoric societies and their monumental creations. It suggests that these structures were not static symbols imposed on the landscape but dynamic, evolving entities that reflected the changing needs, beliefs, and aspirations of their builders.

The endeavour to construct a 15-meter-high wall, especially within the context of ancient monumental architecture, invites a nuanced exploration that bridges the gap between archaeological theory and the lived realities of prehistoric communities. The suggestion that such walls were defensive structures, yet paradoxically positioned to ostensibly favour attackers, propels us into a deeper inquiry into the motivations and environmental challenges faced by these ancient builders.

The comparison with Durrington, where a high wall ostensibly serves a protective function for boats against wind and storms, suggests a pragmatic approach to construction that transcends mere defensive purposes. This insight challenges the notion of monumental walls as solely ceremonial or defensive and invites consideration of their role in mitigating the era’s environmental conditions.

The archaeological pivot to ‘ceremonial’ explanations in the face of such paradoxes, while often serving as a placeholder for the unknown, may indeed overlook the practical interactions between these ancient communities and their volatile climates. The humorously termed “God of pointless constructions and practices” belies a critical gap in our understanding of the symbiotic relationship between human societies and their environments.

Underground Bunkers

The suggestion that past weather was more severe and that the construction of shelters and walls was a response to these conditions is compelling. This perspective is supported by the presence of souterrains, or underground structures, which served as refuges from harsh weather. These structures, varying in design and function across regions, exemplify the adaptability and ingenuity of ancient communities in the face of climatic adversity.

The regional variation in the design of souterrains, from fogous in Cornwall that served as larders to other forms of underground shelter, underscores the diversity of responses to environmental challenges. This diversity not only highlights the practical considerations that drove the construction of monumental and subterranean structures but also reflects the rich tapestry of cultural practices that evolved in tandem with changing landscapes and climates.

The souterrains of Ireland, often colloquially termed ‘caves’, constitute a fascinating part of the archaeological and cultural landscape, rich in historical significance and imbued with the mysteries of the past. The scholarly works of individuals such as A.T. Lucas and the comprehensive study by Clinton in 2001 have provided invaluable insights into these subterranean structures, offering a window into their distribution, associated settlements, functions, and the chronology of their use.

Originating from the French term for “underground passageway,” souterrains were integral to the communities that constructed them, serving purposes that extended beyond the mere architectural or ceremonial. These underground galleries, often associated with settlements and ringforts, reflect a blend of ingenuity and necessity, designed to withstand the trials of their times.

Constructed by excavating earth and lining the resulting spaces with stone slabs or wood, souterrains were reburied to integrate seamlessly with the landscape. In instances where they were carved directly into rock, such elaborate preparations were unnecessary. Their functions, far removed from burial or ritualistic uses, leaned towards the practical, serving primarily as food stores or refuges during periods of conflict. The presence of souterrains within or adjacent to ringforts, and their dating to periods contemporary with these structures, suggests a synchronisation of defensive strategies and domestic planning.

The utilisation of ogham stones as structural elements within souterrains, and the repurposing of ancient script-bearing stones as roofing lintels or doorposts, underscores a fascinating intersection of cultural heritage and architectural necessity. Such practices highlight the adaptive reuse of materials and the deep-rooted connection between the physical and the symbolic in Irish heritage. The ‘cave of the cats’ at Rathcrogan stands as a prominent example, where the widened natural limestone fissure incorporates ogham stones, weaving together the threads of history, architecture, and mythology.

The distribution of souterrains in Ireland, particularly concentrated in certain counties, speaks to the geographical and environmental factors that influenced their construction. These underground structures, with their often obvious entrances, challenge our modern perceptions of secrecy and security, suggesting that their protective function was balanced with the practical needs of accessibility and use.

The first thing that strikes you as strange is the fact that these landscape features are categorised with different names in different locations:

Earth Houses – Modern use

Fogous – Cornwall

Pictish Houses – Found in Scotland (confusion arises here as some are only partially subterranean), unlike the Earth Houses in the same region.

Caves – Ireland

It’s quite literally an archaeological mess. And the reason for this mess is that archaeologists don’t understand why they were built, so they gave them local names, unlike barrows, Stone circles and henges, which appear in the same areas but with a unified name to save confusion. So, what can we find out about these structures that will help us understand why they were built?

Location, Location, Location

If we look at the minimal archaeological evidence, we do see a defined pattern of construction. For example, in Cornwall, we have found to date a collection of fifteen ‘fogous’. According to archaeologists, this is a proposed use for fogous, a refuge during raiding trips, as they are close to the sea. Sadly, if you look more closely, you see them in non-coastal areas and even in the middle of Dartmoor (Lade Hill Brook), where it’s called a Beehive Hut.

The problem with looking for such objects in Devon is that hundreds of ‘caves’ are dotted around from the days of tin mining, and therefore it is almost impossible to distinguish a prehistoric mine opening from a fogou.

The exploration of subterranean structures across the British Isles and their potential functions opens a fascinating chapter in the study of prehistoric human adaptation to environmental challenges. The presence of fogous in Cornwall, notably the example at Carn Gwavel Farm on the Isle of Scilly, exemplifies the ingenuity of ancient communities in creating shelters that blend seamlessly with the landscape. These underground chambers, with their distinctive S-shaped curves and corbelled construction, suggest a level of architectural sophistication designed to address specific needs, whether for storage, habitation, or protection.

The orientation of fogous towards the SW-NE axis raises intriguing questions about their purpose. While some might speculate a religious or ceremonial significance, the practical considerations of climate and environmental exposure cannot be overlooked. The architectural similarities between fogous, chamber cairns, and passage chambers across different regions—each adapted to local conditions and available materials—underscore a widespread practice of constructing subterranean spaces for varied uses.

In regions like Ireland and Scotland, where these structures are more commonly found and referred to as ‘caves’ or ‘earth houses,’ their abundance points to a shared cultural practice of utilising underground spaces. The absence of similar structures in areas like Devon, Dorset, Somerset, and Wiltshire, juxtaposed with the concentration of other prehistoric monuments, suggests regional variations in responses to environmental and social pressures.

The situation in Wales, with its chambered cairns and passage chambers, adds another layer to this complex tapestry. The discovery of bodies within these structures has led to their classification as burial sites, yet the possibility that their original purpose evolved over time warrants consideration. The comparison to modern bunkers, which have found new uses beyond their original intent, illustrates the fluidity of human interactions with built environments.

Tornadoes

The hypothesis that these subterranean shelters were constructed in response to severe storm conditions, akin to practices in contemporary hurricane-prone areas of the USA, highlights a timeless human priority: the need for protection against the elements. This perspective offers a compelling narrative of prehistoric resilience and adaptability, suggesting that the construction of such shelters was a rational response to the challenges posed by a dynamic and sometimes hostile environment.

Understanding the motivations behind the construction of fogous and similar structures requires an interdisciplinary approach that considers archaeological evidence, environmental science, and historical climatology. The severity of prehistoric storms, as inferred from geological indicators of post-glacial flooding and climate change, provides a backdrop against which the necessity and ingenuity of these ancient shelters can be fully appreciated.

In contemplating these ancient structures, we are reminded of the enduring human capacity to innovate and adapt to the world’s ever-changing face. The legacy of fogous and their counterparts across the British Isles and beyond speaks to a deep-seated human instinct to seek shelter and safety in the face of nature’s fury, a testament to the ingenuity and resilience of our ancestors that continues to inspire and inform our understanding of human history.

But is there any other evidence that tornadoes hit Britain?

On 17th October 1091, London was hit by a vicious tornado.

The historical records describing the destruction wrought upon London, including the demolition of the wooden London Bridge, the devastation of 600 houses, and the severe damage to St. Mary-le-Bow church, underscore the formidable power of natural forces. The detail of rafters being driven six meters into the ground at St. Mary-le-Bow vividly illustrates the intensity of the event, likely a tornado, which also resulted in loss of life and widespread homelessness. This account provides a stark reminder of the vulnerability of even the most seemingly permanent human constructions to the whims of nature.

The enduring mystery surrounding Stonehenge, particularly the toppling of the gigantic Sarsen Trilithon Stones, invites a reconsideration of the forces capable of such feats. The traditional assumption that human intervention aimed at dismantling the monument falls short in light of the damage’s selective nature. The hypothesis of a tornado strike from the southwest offers a compelling alternative explanation, aligning with the directional pattern of damage observed at the site. The fact that only one pair of the trilithons was felled, while the rest of the monument remained relatively intact, suggests an event that combined immense power with precise directionality, characteristics emblematic of tornadoes.

Tornadoes, though not commonly associated with Britain’s climate in the popular imagination, are indeed part of the British weather landscape, albeit on a smaller scale than in regions like the United States. The potential for a tornado to have caused the specific pattern of destruction observed at Stonehenge challenges preconceived notions about the stability of such ancient structures and the range of natural disasters that have affected them throughout history.

The observation made by Stukeley in the 16th century and the subsequent ‘repairs’ at the turn of the last century underscore the ongoing interaction between human efforts to preserve or restore ancient monuments and the natural processes that continue to shape them. This dynamic interplay highlights the fragility of our cultural heritage and the importance of understanding the human and natural factors that have influenced these iconic structures over millennia.

In exploring the possibility that tornadoes could impact Stonehenge, we are reminded of the broader implications of climate and environmental forces for archaeological sites. Such considerations not only enrich our understanding of the past but also inform preservation strategies for safeguarding our cultural heritage against future natural events. The case of Stonehenge serves as a poignant example of the complex relationship between human history, natural phenomena, and the ongoing efforts to interpret and preserve the legacies of ancient civilisations in the face of nature’s capricious power.

PodCast

Author’s Biography

Robert John Langdon, a polymathic luminary, emerges as a writer, historian, and eminent specialist in LiDAR Landscape Archaeology.

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

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2024 Prehistoric Britain Blog Review

8000-year-old Cro-Magnon skull

Vikings, Doggerland, and the Last Survivors of Europe’s Lost Waterworld

Archaeology in the Post-Truth Era

Posted on April 6, 2026 by admin

Introduction

Over the past ten years, I’ve faced a constant uphill battle to establish what I consider a straightforward conclusion—that Linear Earthworks are not defensive structures or boundary markers but prehistoric canals. It’s a claim that’s been dismissed repeatedly, often without proper engagement, but that resistance never stopped the work.(Archaeology in the Post-Truth Era)

Instead, it pushed me further. I carried out a full survey of over 1,500 of Historic England’s Scheduled Linear Earthworks, systematically analysing their form, placement, and context. That work eventually led to the first book in what has now become a larger series, focusing specifically on the East Wansdyke area. For me, that publication wasn’t just another book—it was a milestone. It represents a level of detailed, landscape-wide analysis that, to date, no university or research team has attempted at this scale.

(Britain's Giant Prehistoric Waterways) — Archaeology in the Post-Truth Era

The book itself takes a forensic approach. Every aspect of East Wansdyke is examined and placed into a wider framework—what I define as an ancient prehistoric canal system. The aim is simple: to challenge the existing archaeological narrative, not with speculation, but with measurable, testable evidence. The traditional explanations—defensive lines, territorial markers—don’t hold up under scrutiny. They lack physical evidence, contradict their own logic, and fail to explain the most basic characteristics of these structures.

What emerges instead is something far more significant. If these earthworks are canals, then we are looking at a completely different level of engineering capability in prehistory. These were not crude societies marking out land or preparing for war—they were shaping landscapes, managing water, and building infrastructure on a national scale. This not only challenges the archaeological community but also opens the door to a broader re-evaluation of how prehistoric landscapes were understood and used.

Embarking on this journey was not without its challenges, especially in an era where scepticism often overshadows scientific evidence. The response to my publication, which I had hoped would ignite a meaningful academic debate, was instead largely silent. Despite the use of modern LiDAR technology and a dataset far beyond what had previously been attempted, the work was either ignored or dismissed as speculative.

This resistance was mirrored on social media, where entrenched views dominated discussion. Any attempt to challenge established narratives was met with denial rather than engagement. Peer review, rather than being treated as part of an evolving process, was often presented as a final and unquestionable authority.

The Dyke Myth Collapse — Archaeology in the Post-Truth Era

This kind of blind adherence to established ideas is not unique to archaeology. It is a pattern repeated across disciplines, where existing frameworks are protected rather than tested. New evidence is not examined on its merits but rejected because it disrupts the accepted model.

That was the position in 2014.

Now, two years on, we can assess that position against new evidence—and, more importantly, against the predictions made at the time.

What has emerged since then is not a contradiction of the original work, but a direct reinforcement of it.

The borehole data, when analysed correctly using elevation rather than arbitrary depth, has revealed consistent clustering of water-related deposits at specific heights across multiple independent locations. Statistically, this pattern is highly unlikely to occur by chance and instead points to a structured, elevation-controlled hydrological system operating across the landscape.

At the same time, the mathematical framework behind the Post-Glacial Flooding Hypothesis has continued to develop. The mass-balance calculations, combined with ice-volume scaling and groundwater discharge modelling, demonstrate that Britain remained in a prolonged state of elevated water tables and enlarged river systems for thousands of years after the end of the last Ice Age.

This confirms a critical point:

The rivers of the past were higher than those we see today.

And once that is understood, the entire interpretation of Linear Earthworks shifts.

Rethinking The Past — Archaeology in the Post-Truth Era

Because these structures are not randomly placed. They align with contours, connect basins, and sit within hydrological positions that make sense only under sustained high water levels. Their form, scale, and distribution are consistent with water management—not defence, not boundaries, but controlled flow.

In other words, the environmental conditions required for canals are now demonstrably present.

This is the key difference between 2014 and 2026.

In 2014, the argument was based on landscape logic, structural analysis, and comparative reasoning.

In 2026, that same argument is now supported by independent physical data and mathematical proof of the environmental conditions required for it to function.

The conclusion, however, has not changed.

Linear Earthworks were constructed in a landscape defined by elevated water tables and expanded river systems. Within that context, their most coherent and evidence-based interpretation remains exactly what was originally proposed.

They were canals.

And perhaps most importantly, this progression follows the correct scientific sequence.

The prediction came first.

The evidence followed.

And that is not speculation—that is validation.

Wansdyke

In my book, I meticulously addressed every single meter of East Wansdyke, providing compelling evidence that challenges the traditional interpretation of Wansdyke as either a defensive structure or a boundary marker. My research and analysis have convincingly demonstrated that East Wansdyke was, in fact, part of a prehistoric canal system, a finding that significantly alters our understanding of the landscape and the capabilities of the people who engineered it. This conclusion was reached through a combination of detailed survey work, the application of modern technologies such as LiDAR, and a critical review of the archaeological and historical records.

However, one critic, emblematic of the resistance I’ve encountered, sought to undermine my hypothesis by citing a site associated with West Wansdyke. This individual argued that because West Wansdyke was built on a ‘late Iron Age’ fortification, it must, therefore, be of Saxon origin, aiming to cast doubt on my entire thesis by focusing on this one aspect. It’s a classic example of attempting to discredit a comprehensive theory by finding fault with a single, arguably tangential, element.

In my response, I emphasised that this site, situated in West Wansdyke, falls outside the primary focus of my research on the East Wansdyke segment. More importantly, I had already anticipated such objections and addressed them directly in my book. I concluded that West Wansdyke, while geographically related, was connected to the original canal system at a later date, likely by the Romans. This connection was based on evidence suggesting that West Wansdyke is incomplete, sporadic, and differs in specification from East Wansdyke, indicating a distinct phase of construction and purpose.

The dismissal of West Wansdyke from my primary analysis was not arbitrary but a considered decision grounded in the evidence and the scope of my research. It reflects a methodological approach that prioritises coherence, specificity, and relevance in building a historical narrative. The critique of my work that focuses on West Wansdyke, therefore, misses the mark. It overlooks the rigour of my research process and the clear rationale provided for the conclusions drawn about East Wansdyke and its role within a broader prehistoric canal system.

This encounter serves as a reminder of the challenges inherent in advancing new theories in archaeology, especially those that significantly depart from established interpretations. It also underscores the importance of clarity, precision, and thoroughness in both research and communication, qualities I strived to embody in my work on East Wansdyke.

West Wansdyke

We have a problem with West Wansdyke – it’s not part of East Wansdyke. This has always been a historical debate over the last 100 years. If we look at the limited archaeological evidence, we find that although it may have been a much later Canal/Dyke it is not contemporary with the East Wansdyke canal and was not built at the same time.

Excavations conclusively show that the Ditches on the East side of Wansdyke are much more profound and twice as broad. In contrast, the Banks on the East Side are much wider. We see that East Dyke was built first, as our River height model shows that most of West Wansdyke would have been flooded or marshland at the time of use.

Location	Wansdyke
Bank	Ditch	Excavator notes
Materials	Width	Height	Berm	Width	Depth	Counterscarp
EAST
Red Shore	Clay/Flints	9.5	2	N	10	3.9	Y	Green 1966
Sheppard’s shore		10	2.3	N	10	3.9	Y	Pitt Rivers 1888
Brown’s Barn		9	2.3	N	10	3.9	Y	Pitt Rivers 1891
WEST
Binces Lane West	Stoney	12.5	??	??	3.5	1.7	Y	Erskine 1990s
Binces Lane East	Stoney	?	5?	N	6	2.4	?	Erskine 1990s
Compton Green	Clay marl	13	0.8	Y	5.8	2.8	Y	Erskine 1990s
Blackrock Lane	Silty Clay	12.5	1.7	Y	4.8	2.7	?	Erskine 1990s
Park farm	Stones	10	0.4	Y	5.5	2.4	Y	Erskine 1990s
Fairy Hill		13	?	Y	6.5	?		Erskine 1990s

West Wansdyke Excavation

When the waters receded (possibly Early Iron Age period), it is possible that the Dyke was extended, or the more probable event of East Wansdyke after it dried up was turned into a roadway and what we see in West Wansdyke is the extension of the road, and hence it is wider than in the East.

We also see more shallow ditches as they were not used for water but to obtain soil for the walkway and become drainage ditches.

Indeed, we know the Romans used this as a road and always had drainage ditches, usually on both sides. This is supported by carbon dating at Erskine’s excavation at Blackrock Lane, where the section appeared to have been sealed by the primary bank material. One of these layers contained significant concentrations of woody oak charcoal.

Samples of this material were submitted to the Ancient Monuments Laboratory for radiocarbon dating to provide a possible construction of the bank. Unfortunately, as shown in the table below – sadly, as standard when scientific evidence disproves the current archaeological narrative – it is ignored and classified as an error.

Table 1. Erskine, Jonathan. (2007). The West Wansdyke: an appraisal of the dating, dimensions and construction techniques in the light of excavated evidence. Archaeological Journal. 164. 80-108.

The other missing aspect, shown in East Wansdyke but not in West Wansdyke, was the massive connection to Barrows and Flint Pits. Again, this connection is not seen on West Wansdyke, which may help date this monument, as the barrows were of the Bronze Age or earlier, and, as we have seen from the carbon dating evidence at Blackrock Lane, much earlier than its 1500 BCE date.

Statonbury Camp near Bath – an example of West Wansdyke

If we look at the Scheduled parts of the Wansdyke – we see that the East is very much intact, but the West is sporadic at best, and it’s hard to find a logical link to all the Dykes that seem to only appear over hills and not in the valley’s – which in my view would have been flooded in the Mesolithic and hence the west sections addition after East Wansdyke’s construction – probably by the roman’s who may have utilised the Dyke system for their own transportation reasons. But for the sake of scientific curiosity, let’s take a detailed look at Stantonbury Hill site, which is classified as an Iron Age Camp, with Wansdyke making up one of the defensive banks – but before we delve deeper into the field archaeology of the site – I feel I must clarify the use of the classification of ‘Iron Age Fort’ by archaeologists.

All sites that sit on top of hills and have ditches are called Iron Age Forts – sadly, I have yet to find a single location that is either ‘Iron Age’ or a ‘Fortification’, as not a single dead body from slaying has ever been found, and all the so-called defensive ditches EVER!! Yet the archaeological world continues to use this misleading classification, which confuses the public, as if it has been qualified and proven. So, back to Statonbury camp. The only investigation of this site was made by Fox and Fox in 1956 as part of their survey of Wansdyke in the publication ‘Wansdyke reconsidered.’ It should be noted that Historic England does not have an account with their scheduling as no excavation work has ever been undertaken, and so only field walking has been undertaken, and so the results are subject to the field walker.

In Fox’s publication, they also question the linkage of East and West Wansdyke through other, even older publications and field surveys, which call into question the logic of dating this linear earthwork. That great antiquary, Sir Richard Colt Hoare, had his doubts about the identification, which he endeavoured to suppress in his account of the earthwork in Ancient Wiltshire,

‘ Hitherto we have been enabled to trace the course of Wansdyke with certainty and success through Somersetshire, but on approaching the neighbouring county of Wiltshire we enter upon a new and doubtful field of inquiry respecting the direction as well as the formation of this celebrated rampart.’

His own observations in the field had shown him that in this central sector ‘ it bears the decided appearance of a Roman causeway, not of a Belgic or Saxon boundary and yet he felt obliged to support the current view that road and dyke were identical because he was convinced that the Wansdyke was continuous and he could find no alternative course for it in the area. Sir R. C. Hoare also observes that the camps appear to have been added to the Dyke, not the Dyke formed to connect the camps, which may be noticed especially at Stantonbury Camp, the second on the line of the course of Wansdyke through Somersetshire.

They continue……

General Pitt-Rivers, also had misgivings, ‘ the Dyke he comments, in the Heddington region,’ is of very low relief everywhere on this line and it has often been questioned whether it is a dyke or a road’, and his suspicions were again aroused at a point west of Morgan’s Hill and on Bowden Hill near Lacock’.

Stanton Camp - Not Defensive — Stanton Camp – Not Defensive

On Statonbury Camp, there are not very helpful and report that:

Stantonbury is a univallate Iron Age hill-fort enclosing some 30 acres on the crest of the hill : until very recently it was waste ground going back to thorn scrub and islanded in dense woodland, as can be seen on the air-photo (Pl. VIIIB). The hill top (580 ft.) commands a wide view : from here the whole of the countryside traversed by West Wansdyke can be seen, Maes Knoll to the west. Odd Down to the east, as well as an uninterrupted stretch northwards to the Avon valley and the Cotswolds beyond. From here, the major alignment was probably planned (fig. 19 and p. 37).

In 1956-7 the hill top has been ploughed again, and the much reduced Iron Age defences are visible on the edge of the cultivation. It appears to us that Wansdyke was not constructed along the north-facing hill slope, and that as at Old Oswestry hill-fort, on Wat’s Dyke in Montgomery, the Iron Age defences were deemed sufficient. There is, however, as General Pitt-River’s level section shows, a steep scarp below the traces of the ploughed-in Iron Age ditch, which may be artificial and post-date the hill-fort, but this is uncertain. East of the fort, in field 20, which is now occupied by a plantation and a pheasantry, the Dyke continues as a scarp for as far as we were able to trace it through the nettles and undergrowth. Below the 500 ft. contour, the large bank and ditch reappear in the dense woodland, and emerge beside the lane leading to the road to Stanton Prior, where the earthwork measures 75 ft. overall.

So, according to Fox and Fox, Wansdyke stops short and accepts the North Face is the Iron Age Site – therefore, if the Wansdyke had been cut to the north of the site, the Iron Age fort replaced it, which is not as the Jihad had claimed?

So where did he get this ‘ground-breaking’ revelation? For this, we must go not to a peer-reviewed book but a website ‘wansdyke21.org.uk’ by Robert Vermaat

He suggests that: It has been suggested by Fox & Fox that Wansdyke did not actually use Stantonbury Camp, the ditch stopping short of the Iron Age defences by several metres. However, Burrow showed in 1982 that this was incorrect. Although the western slope is much disturbed by quarrying and the lower slopes by cultivation, Wansdyke can still be traced quite well at several points on the hill. As with Maes Knoll, the northern defences are more prominent than those on the south side. As Wansdyke joins the defences here, it can be argued that, as was the case at Maes Knoll, the northern defences were refurbished when Wansdyke was constructed, neglecting the south side which was without use for the builders of Wansdyke.

If only we had £64 to see this so-called evidence from Field walking by burrows (as we know it was not excavated and LiDAR was not in use)!!

Fortunately, we have now obtained high-resolution LiDAR images of Statonbury Camp, and we can see that Wansdyke goes over the hill in a strange ‘wibbly wobbly’ way rather than a straight line – which we see on either side of the hill from much shallower ditches. This suggests that the area was not built entirely at the same time, and that the Hill Dyke is older than the flat ground levels surrounding the hill.

My estimate from the evidence in the smaller ditches is that they are Roman (and hence straight) in origin, which connects to the earlier prehistoric Dyke over Statonbury Hill, which the archaeologists call West Wansdyke (part of). The path over the hill indicates that the builders were attempting to locate natural springs as they built the Dyke to supply it with water, and hence the strange pathway.

Closer inspection of the Dyke as it approaches the ‘Iron Age Site’ suggests that it splits and shifts the bank from north-facing to south-facing, which Fox had seen as a terminus of the Dyke, for it reached the Fort. LiDAR clearly shows that the ditch moves to the south side of the bank and continues to create the East side of the fort, finally terminating in the South.

Also, the shape of the fort is not consistent, as it has rounded edges in the SE and SW regions but flat T-Junctions in the NE and NW, where it meets Wansdyke – indicating it was added to the existing Wansdyke canal either at the time of construction or a later date.

PodCast

Author’s Biography

Robert John Langdon, a polymathic luminary, emerges as a writer, historian, and eminent specialist in LiDAR Landscape Archaeology.

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Other Blogs

2024 Prehistoric Britain Blog Review

8000-year-old Cro-Magnon skull

Vikings, Doggerland, and the Last Survivors of Europe’s Lost Waterworld

The Stonehenge Transportation Mystery

Posted on April 3, 2026 by admin

Introduction

Exploring the origins and transport of the stones used to construct Stonehenge remains a fascinating subject, rife with theories and controversies. The viral interest generated by my blog post this week, which highlighted a map showing three known sites of the stones’ origins, barely scratches the surface of this complex logistical puzzle. Indeed, there are stones from even greater distances, raising myriad questions about how these megaliths were transported to their final resting place at Stonehenge. This essay aims to delve into these logistics, providing a comprehensive overview grounded in the latest research and theories. (The Stonehenge Transportation Mystery)

The Bluestones

Recent advancements in micro-spectrum analysis have significantly contributed to our understanding of the origins of bluestones. However, this is not an exact science, as the movement of rocks due to glacial activity and post-ice age water flows complicates their traceability. Some academics have proposed that the bluestones found at Stonehenge were not quarried and transported from Wales but deposited nearby by glacial action. This theory, however, conflicts with geological evidence indicating that the last ice age glaciers did not reach as far as Stonehenge, stopping instead at the Bristol Channel. This discrepancy casts doubt on the glacier transport theory, suggesting the need to consider earlier ice ages, such as the Anglian, which occurred over 500,000 years ago. Yet the immense timescale involved means that any stones moved by such glaciers would be deeply buried beneath millennia of soil, making their discovery improbable.

Furthermore, the lack of bluestone erratics in the vicinity of Stonehenge further challenges the idea of glacial transport. The site at Craig Rhos-Y-Felin, identified as a source of the bluestones, shows clear evidence of human quarrying activity, contradicting the theory that these stones were randomly picked up from glacial deposits. The discovery of human hearths and quarrying tools at Craig Rhos-Y-Felin, along with a partially quarried bluestone, strongly suggests that these stones were intentionally selected and transported for use at Stonehenge.

The overland path from Craig Rhos-y-felin to Stonehenge is insane. It goes from 75m OD to 541 OD and crosses 95 valleys – the idea that you can either roll, drag or ox-cart such a route without a road is bonkers!!

The Sarsen Stones

The origin and transportation of the sarsen stones present a different set of challenges. These stones are found scattered across the Salisbury Plain and further afield, in areas never reached by the ice sheets that covered Britain during the last ice age. The popular theory that the sarsen stones came from West Woods near Avebury suggests that they could have been dragged to their current location. However, recent observations indicate that many of these stones are in paleochannel riverbeds rather than rock outcrops. This suggests that they were transported by ice-age floodwaters rather than being quarried from nearby outcrops.

West Woods to Stonehenge — Even the shortest route known to transport these stones is difficult to follow, as the 12 valleys and 14 peaks shown on this map testify.

Theories of Transportation

The theory that the stones could have been moved over frozen rivers during the ice age is intriguing but fraught with logistical issues. The absence of a significant human population capable of organising such an endeavour, coupled with the challenges of moving heavy stones over potentially thin ice, makes this theory less plausible. Additionally, the radiocarbon dating of Stonehenge would be significantly off if the stones had been transported at the end of the ice age.

LiDAR, or Light Detection and Ranging, is a remote sensing technology that uses laser light to densely sample the earth’s surface, creating highly accurate topographic maps. It has revolutionised archaeological surveys by uncovering features difficult or impossible to see from the ground or through traditional surveying methods. Regarding Stonehenge and the transportation of the stones used in its construction, LiDAR technology offers invaluable insights into the landscape and potential transport routes used by ancient peoples.

Ditching to Stonehenge — The trilithon stones, weighing around 50 tonnes, reportedly come from Sussex. Such weights were successfully transported down the Nile on boats.

LiDAR Evidence and Stonehenge

LiDAR has been instrumental in mapping the landscape around Stonehenge, revealing details that have remained hidden for millennia under vegetation or soil. This technology has the potential to identify old riverbeds, trackways, and other features that could suggest routes for transporting the massive sarsen stones and bluestones used in the monument’s construction. However, despite its capabilities, LiDAR has not yet provided definitive evidence of prehistoric roads or paths leading directly from the quarries to Stonehenge.

Key Findings from LiDAR Surveys

No Prehistoric Roads from Quarries: LiDAR surveys have not found any evidence of engineered roads or paths originating from the bluestone quarries in Wales or from locations where sarsen stones are found. This absence challenges theories that rely on overland transport of the stones using rollers, sledges, or ox-carts over vast distances and rugged terrain.

Ancient Waterways and Paleochannels: One significant contribution of LiDAR is the identification of ancient waterways and paleochannels. These features are crucial for understanding the prehistoric landscape, suggesting that rivers and watercourses may have played a significant role in transporting the stones. The larger rivers identified by LiDAR, which were navigable in the past, support the theory that water transport was a feasible and preferred method for moving the stones.

Atkinson's Method — Atkinson proved with just four small schoolboys that a 4-tonne stone can easily be moved by boat down to the River Avon

Landscape Features: LiDAR has revealed the complexity of the landscape through which any transportation route would have had to navigate, including valleys, dense forests, and waterlogged areas. This detailed mapping underscores the logistical challenges faced by ancient builders, further calling into question the practicality of relying solely on land-based transport methods.

Implications of LiDAR Evidence

The evidence from LiDAR surveys, particularly the absence of prehistoric roads and the emphasis on natural watercourses, suggests a reevaluation of how the stones were transported to Stonehenge. The lack of direct routes from quarries to the site and the identification of navigable ancient rivers and paleochannels lend weight to theories prioritising water transport. This perspective aligns with the understanding that ancient peoples were highly adept at utilising their natural environment to achieve monumental feats of construction.

Alter Stone to Stonehenge — The Altar Stone is now suspected of coming from as far as Scotland, as its Geo signature is not available down south (I would guess Doggerland for obvious reasons), but even if it just came from the Yorkshire Dales, the idea of l, and transportation is pure nonsense

Short Transportation systems from the boat harbours to the Monument

Mechanical Advantage of Poles (from the book – Dawn of the Lost Civilisation)

The principle of leverage, applied through poles, provides a mechanical advantage when handling heavy weights. Professor John Cunningham, an art professor at Skidmore College, has introduced a novel concept, creating a new class of simple machines based on flexible rods. Unlike traditional machines, Cunningham’s design not only multiplies force but also distributes it and stores mechanical energy.

Consider a scenario with a 20,000-pound stone. If you attempt to support it on two rigid beams, each will bear half the weight (10,000 pounds), posing a risk of fracture. Now, imagine spreading the load across 20 solid, parallel beams, each supporting only a fraction of the total weight, making the burden manageable. Cunningham’s innovation takes this idea further by replacing solid beams with flexible poles.

Stone Transportation and Dumb Censorship — The Bluestones were carried, not dragged, to Stonehenge

In the flexible pole structure, each pole can be raised independently without affecting the others. By lifting one end of a pole, a small amount of extra energy is imparted to that pole, and the energy is distributed across the structure. The weight rises by a fraction of the raised end, divided by the number of pole ends. If one end is lifted by a foot, the weight on each of the other pole ends diminishes by a corresponding fraction. Using this method, heavy loads can be lifted with significantly fewer people, as each person is only moving a fraction of the weight at a time.

This innovative approach enables efficient handling of substantial weights, offering a unique perspective on the use of mechanical advantage in lifting and distributing loads. (Stone transportation and censorship)

Cunningham has distilled the concept to a formula:
D = S x 1/N

Where D is the distance, the load is raised, s is the distance any one pole is blocked up, and N is the total number of pole ends in the system. Given n is the number of pole ends lifted simultaneously, the mechanical advantage for any symmetrical pole configuration will be N/n.

So, the fact that a pole bends like a bow, storing energy, makes it easier to carry. So easy in fact, that it acts as a lever and gives you a mechanical advantage. This principle would be well known as it is the same principle as how a bow works as it is a store of potential energy, you can’t throw an arrow 100 metres, but the bowing of the wood channelled through a small area (the string) give you the potential energy.

Walk like an Egyptian

The experiment showed that 48 students ( four x 12 poles) could lift 2.3 tonnes, which was the weight of one of the pyramid’s building stones. The larger the stone, the more poles and men you need, but it was quite easy even for wimpish students. In prehistoric Days with Cro-Magnon works you would need only 24 people to move a Pyramid stone or a Bluestone at Stonehenge without the rest blocks the video has included in their H & S safety assessment….LOL!!

A-Frames and Cranes

The advancement of technology and the movement of massive stones, such as the Sarsen stones at Stonehenge, Avebury, and Carnac, demand a closer examination of the engineering and logistical challenges faced by the ancient civilisation of Homo Superior, also known as Cro-Magnons. The Sarsen stones, weighing up to 60 tonnes, were not merely transported but meticulously erected, presenting a feat that even modern attempts struggle to replicate.

In our exploration of ancient technology, we encounter the question of how to transport and handle colossal loads. The Sarsen stones serve as an illustrative example due to their significant size, and it is perplexing that historians and archaeologists often overlook the intricacies of moving and placing these stones. This oversight persists even though, even with today’s technology, replicating the achievements of Homo Superior at Stonehenge remains a daunting challenge.

The crane, a machine designed to lift and move heavy materials, is pivotal in the transport and construction industries. Equipped with a hoist, wire ropes or chains, and sheaves, a crane utilises mechanical advantages to lift and lower materials beyond the capacity of human effort. Historically, the invention of the crane is attributed to the Ancient Greeks in the late 6th century BC, as evidenced by cuttings for lifting tongs and Lewis irons on stone blocks of Greek temples dating to around 515 BC.

However, when scrutinising Stonehenge, we encounter a fascinating divergence. In contrast, archaeological evidence points to the use of lifting devices, particularly with cuttings indicating the application of cranes, the peculiarities of Stonehenge’s construction challenge conventional narratives. Notably, the placement of lintels on Sarsen uprights and the presence of holes like Y & Z, potentially serving as foundations for A-frame crane legs, hint at a more sophisticated lifting apparatus.

The reluctance of some scholars to acknowledge advanced lifting devices in the historical context of Homo Superior may stem from the challenge they pose to established historical frameworks. Nevertheless, the investigation into the engineering marvels of Stonehenge encourages us to reassess the capabilities of this ancient civilisation, prompting a deeper understanding of their technological prowess and organisational acumen.

The transition from ramps to the more sophisticated winch-and-pulley hoist marked a significant shift in ancient construction technology. The emergence of the compound pulley system, attributed to Aristotle in the Mechanical Problems, coincided with a notable decrease in the weights of stones handled on Greek building sites. This transformative period saw the prevalence of smaller stones, weighing less than 15–20 metric tonnes, in contrast to the archaic era’s trend of using larger blocks.

The adoption of the crane, facilitated by the compound pulley system, introduced a more efficient and practical method of vertical motion. Grecian temples of the classical age, exemplified by the Parthenon, favoured using several smaller stones rather than fewer larger ones. Monolithic columns, a prominent feature in earlier constructions, were gradually replaced by multiple-column drums.

The reasons behind this technological evolution are not entirely clear. It raises intriguing questions about whether the shift from larger to smaller stones was due to the loss of past techniques, improved quarrying methods that enabled faster cutting of shorter blocks, or other factors influencing construction practices. The shift in societal dynamics, with smaller, professional construction teams being favoured over larger bodies of unskilled labour, is proposed as a potential contributing factor. The crane, with its efficiency in handling smaller stones, became preferable in the more volatile social and political conditions of ancient Greece.

While the exact circumstances of this transition remain uncertain, the historical record indicates that the compound pulley system and the crane became integral to Greek construction sites. The literary evidence from Aristotle’s Mechanical Problems and the resurgence of larger block sizes at Greek temples suggests a correlation between the adoption of the compound pulley and advancements in construction techniques. The earliest construction cranes, likely powered by humans or beasts of burden like donkeys, marked a transformative period in ancient construction methods.

(Stone transportation and censorship) — The Stonehenge Transportation Mystery

The evolution of cranes played a crucial role in the construction of tall buildings, enabling the lifting of heavier loads. In the High Middle Ages, harbour cranes emerged to facilitate ship loading and unloading, often integrated into stone towers for enhanced strength and stability. The earliest cranes were crafted from wood, but with the advent of the Industrial Revolution, materials like cast iron and steel became predominant.

At Stonehenge, the construction methods are a subject of speculation, with suggestions that timber A-frames were employed to raise the stones. Teams of individuals may have hauled the stones upright using ropes, and the topmost stones (lintels) could have been incrementally raised on timber platforms and slid or pushed into place. Carpentry-type joints on the stones indicate a high level of woodworking skill among the builders.

The idea of A-frames finds support in demonstrations by individuals such as Wally Wallington, a retired construction worker, who showcased techniques based on lever principles for rotating, lifting, and positioning heavy monoliths. An A-frame, essentially a basic crane without a pulley or winch, operates on similar principles to facilitate vertical movement. Adding a swivel base could transform it into a fully functional crane, a concept compatible with the mortise-and-tenon joints observed at Stonehenge.

Estimates of the manpower required for Stonehenge’s construction suggest a substantial effort, with millions of hours of work. The various phases of Stonehenge’s construction, from the initial to the third phase, may have required extensive human labour, amounting to up to 20 million hours spent working the stones. The primitive tools available at the time necessitated considerable effort, highlighting the strong will and advanced social organisation required to build and maintain such a monumental site. Stonehenge stands as a testament to the ingenuity and determination of its ancient builders. (Stone transportation and censorship)

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