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.

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

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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

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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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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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

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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

South Cadbury Castle – Camelot

Posted on April 1, 2026 by admin

Introduction

In the traditional archaeological interpretation, Cadbury Castle represents a long-lived settlement that developed gradually over several millennia. The earliest evidence of activity dates to the Neolithic period, where pits and postholes associated with pottery and flint finds suggest a small, unenclosed agricultural community. Radiocarbon dating places this early occupation around 3500–3300 BC, indicating that the hill was already being utilised long before the construction of its later defences.(South Cadbury Castle – Camelot)

The site continued to be occupied into the Bronze Age, where evidence of ovens and metalworking activity points to an increasingly organised settlement. By the Iron Age, Cadbury Castle had developed into a substantial fortified enclosure. Around 300 BC, a stone-built enclosure with timber reinforcements was constructed, later expanded into a complex hillfort with multiple ramparts and elaborate defensive systems. Excavations have revealed both roundhouses and rectangular structures, alongside evidence of industrial activity and possible ritual features, suggesting a permanent and socially complex community—often described as “oppidum-like” in character.

South Cadbury Castle - Camelot — South Cadbury Castle – Camelot

During the 1st century BC and into the early Roman period, the defences were further strengthened. Archaeological evidence indicates that the site may have been violently attacked during the Roman conquest of Britain, around AD 43, with signs of burning and destruction uncovered at key प्रवेश points. Following this, the Romans appear to have reused the hilltop, possibly establishing a military presence and later constructing a temple during the 3rd or 4th century AD.

After the end of Roman administration, Cadbury Castle was reoccupied in the post-Roman period, between approximately AD 470 and 580. Excavations led by Leslie Alcock revealed a large timber “Great Hall,” interpreted within the traditional framework as the residence of a high-status Brittonic ruler. The discovery of imported Mediterranean pottery from this phase suggests long-distance trade connections and reinforces the idea of the site as a regional power centre. It is this phase of occupation that has led to long-standing associations with the legendary Camelot of King Arthur.

The site saw later reuse in the early medieval period, including the establishment of a temporary Saxon mint in the 11th century. Across its long history, Cadbury Castle is therefore understood, in conventional terms, as a multi-period fortified settlement—evolving from a Neolithic farming site into a major Iron Age stronghold, later adapted by Roman and post-Roman communities, and ultimately woven into both historical and legendary narratives.

The Problem with the Traditional Interpretation

The conventional explanation of Cadbury Castle presents a familiar story: a hilltop settlement that gradually evolves from a Neolithic farm into a Bronze Age community, then into an Iron Age hillfort, later reused by Romans and post-Roman elites.

It sounds neat. It reads well. But when examined critically, it raises more problems than it solves.

The core issue is methodological.

The site is treated as a continuous “occupation sequence,” yet the evidence presented is not continuous—it is fragmentary, intermittent, and separated by significant spans of time. A pit here, a posthole there, a later rampart above it—all are grouped together and interpreted as a single evolving settlement. In reality, what is being described is not continuity, but repeated reuse of a prominent landscape feature over thousands of years.

This is a fundamental distinction.

Finding Neolithic pits does not prove a Neolithic settlement in the sense implied. It proves activity. The same applies to Bronze Age ovens, Iron Age ramparts, or post-Roman halls. Each represents a moment in time, not necessarily a continuous tradition of occupation.

Archaeology, however, routinely compresses these separate events into a single narrative—effectively averaging the past into a story that feels coherent but is not supported as a continuous process.

Elevation and Function — The Missing Variable

What is consistently overlooked in the traditional model is the most obvious physical characteristic of Cadbury Castle:

Its elevation.

At approximately 153 metres above sea level, the site sits well above the surrounding lowlands, particularly the Somerset Levels to the north. In the conventional interpretation, this is explained purely in terms of defence—height equals visibility, therefore height equals protection.

But this assumption is never tested.

It is simply inherited.

If we step back and apply a physical framework rather than a cultural one, a different question emerges:

Why are the earliest activities consistently located on elevated ground?

This is not unique to Cadbury. Across Britain, early prehistoric activity frequently appears at higher elevations, with later activity progressively occupying lower ground. This pattern is measurable, repeatable, and not dependent on interpretation.

The simplest explanation is not a defence.

It is an environment.

As demonstrated in the broader hydrological model of post-glacial Britain, early Holocene landscapes were characterised by significantly higher groundwater levels and expanded river systems. In such a system, low-lying areas—such as the Somerset Levels—would not have been stable, dry land in the way they are today. They would have been wetlands, floodplains, or standing water environments for extended periods.

Under these conditions, elevated sites like Cadbury Hill are not “defensive choices.”

They are the only viable ground.

Reframing the “Hillfort”

Once elevation is understood as an environmental constraint rather than a defensive preference, the entire interpretation of the site shifts.

The term “hillfort” becomes problematic.

It assumes:

conflict
territorial defence
permanent settlement

Yet none of these are directly proven by the physical evidence alone.

The ramparts, for example, are interpreted as defensive structures—but this is an assumption based on form, not function. Earthworks can serve multiple purposes: hydraulic control, stock management, boundary demarcation, or even phased landscape modification.

At Cadbury, the presence of multiple ramparts is often cited as evidence of increasing conflict. But an alternative explanation is equally plausible: staged construction responding to changing environmental conditions, particularly shifting water levels and drainage patterns.

The traditional model selects one interpretation—warfare—without excluding others.

The Illusion of Continuity

Perhaps the most significant issue is the illusion of continuity created by archaeological phasing.

Cadbury Castle is presented as:

Neolithic → Bronze Age → Iron Age → Roman → Post-Roman → Saxon

But this is not a continuous timeline of occupation.

It is a list of disconnected events.

Between these phases lie gaps—sometimes centuries, sometimes longer—where no evidence of sustained activity exists. These gaps are rarely emphasised, because they disrupt the narrative of an “important settlement.”

Instead, the site is framed as persistently occupied, when the evidence more accurately supports periodic reuse of a prominent, strategically located landscape feature.

In other words, the hill is important.

Not necessarily the settlement.

A Simpler Model

If we remove the assumption and focus only on physical constraints, a more economical explanation emerges:

Early activity occurs on high ground because low ground is unstable or flooded
Sites are reused over time because elevated locations remain reliable as conditions change
Earthworks reflect adaptation to landscape conditions, not necessarily warfare
Later cultures reinterpret and reuse earlier features without preserving the original function

This model requires fewer assumptions and aligns with measurable environmental behaviour.

It also explains why sites like Cadbury Castle appear repeatedly in the archaeological record across different periods without requiring continuous occupation.

Maps

1800s OS Map

GE Satellite Map

LiDAR Map

Investigation

Site Flyaround

South Cadbury Castle Flyaround

Site Flyover

South Cadbury Castle Fly Over

Lidar Map showing Bronze Age

South Cadbury Castle – with Bronze Age Water Levels

LiDAR Map showing Mesolithic Period

South Cadbury Castle with Mesloithic Water levels

Defence Strategy 101

Roman Defence System

Roman defences (of the same period as the ‘Iron Age’ ), we notice the ditches were relatively small and narrow. These ditches were called ‘Ankle Breaker’ as the purpose was for the assailant to fall into the ditch (usually containing pointed wooden stakes to either injure or kill the assailant) or to at least break their ankle from the fall, making them immobile. These ditches would be 3 to 4 m wide and about 2m deep and could be dug quickly.

The soil excavated from the ditch would be placed on the defensive side to elevate the defenders, allowing them to look down and fight their attackers from a higher position. Simply standing on elevated ground without a barrier would make defenders easy targets. Therefore, they built fortifications using wooden stakes or stone for more permanent and substantial defences. These fortifications provided cover from spears, arrows, or stones while looking down into the conflict zone. This basic defensive strategy has remained unchanged for thousands of years, as seen with the Normans, who used castles and moats. The moats slowed down assailants, allowing defenders to use crossbows effectively against anyone attempting to cross the deep waters.

Classic Roman Fort With Ditch and Palisade

Lidar Maps of Sth Cadbury Castle Show No Defences

Banks

The banks at South Cadbury Castle show no signs of palisades on top of the bank at any stage before the Roman occupation, which brought stone to the very top of the site. The other four banks appear to be quite flat, as if they have been used for walking upon rather than holding any defensive wooden structures or ‘foxholes.’

Importance and Use of Foxholes in Defense

Concealment and Protection: Foxholes are small, dug-out trenches or pits used by soldiers to provide cover and concealment. They protect defenders from enemy fire and other dangers. By being below ground level, soldiers can remain hidden and minimize their exposure to enemy attacks.

Historical Use: Throughout history, foxholes have been a crucial part of defensive strategies in various military contexts: While the term “foxhole” is modern, the concept of digging protective pits or trenches has been used in various forms throughout history. In ancient battles, soldiers would dig pits to defend against archers and other ranged weapons.

Advantages of Foxholes

Reduced Visibility: Soldiers in foxholes are less visible to the enemy, making it harder for attackers to target them.
Protection from Spears, Rocks and Arrows: Being below ground level the size of the target is greatly reduced.
Stability for Firing: Foxholes provide a stable firing position, allowing soldiers to fire and use their weapons more accurately.

South Cadbury Castle Context

The absence of evidence for palisades or foxholes at South Cadbury Castle before the Roman occupation suggests a different use or purpose for the banks. Instead of being purely defensive, the flat banks must have served other functions.

Ditches

Looking at the construction of the ditches at South Cadbury Castle, we notice that it has no defensive features as expected from a so-called ‘Iron Age Fort’. The ditches are far too broad to be defensive (15m to 30m wide) compared to Roman ‘Ankle Breaker’ of 2m to 3m. The maps show no sign of a wooden or stone barrier, and archaeological excavations have found no evidence of post holes or defensive pits on the banks. Moreover, the Ditch is banked on the wrong side to be defensive, as if it has been built to encase a watery moat. This outside bank would protect any assailants attacking, giving them ample bank coverage. The internal aspect of the Ditch shows no sign of any wooden defensive poles or post holes as seen in Roman Ditches and is designed without internal walls allowing assailants from using the Ditch as cover and the facility to wander around the circumference undercover, testing the weaknesses in the defence. Therefore, as a defensive feature, these types of ditches on so-called ‘Iron Age Forts’ are fundamentally flawed and commonplace.

The LiDAR Maps also show that the ditch of the ditches indicate that they were built for water, as shown by the blue on these images – this then allows us to look at the design of the earthwork in detail, which shows that the banks have been cut by not roads but other ditches. These ditches that cut across the circumference moats cut into them that, suggest that if water had been contained in these ditches, then the vertical dykes could have been used to gaol boats up from the bottom of the dyke ditch to one of these upper moat levels. These same LiDAR maps also show how the soil was distributed to the outside of the moats to enhance and make the feature deeper.

South Cadbury Castle – Banks on the outside to keep in the Water

Water Table

This hypothesis of using these ditches as moats can only be proven if we find the natural springs that could have fed these earthworks in the past. We know from our studies into rivers, such as The Thames and Avon, that they were both much higher and of greater volume in the past, and this height was retained for thousands of years after the last ice age. This enhanced height and volume is reflected and caused by a higher water table. Within these water tables, natural springs are formed, and water leaks into the land, creating rivers and streams. Although we do not have geological information that allows us to trace past springs, we find existing springs in this location (still active today), which suggests our hypothesis is correct.

South Cadbury Castle showing Springs still in existence

Dykes

As we have already suggested, the lack of defensive features shows that this is far from being a fortification; instead, it was used as a trading site with moats to facilitate the mooring of boats. The transportation to these moats was achieved by other earthworks called Linear Earthworks (also known as Dykes). Dykes were introduced when the river shorelines of the Prehistoric fell with the water table, and they wanted to continue to use these established trading sites rather than having to build new sites at a lower level. So, Dykes were built (like roads) to transport goods to market and also minerals extracted from the many quarries which uncommonly surround these Dykes. Here in South Cadbury Castle, we see not only Dykes feeding the local quarry sites but also placed on the side of this Trading site to allow access to the moats for the boats coming off the rivers, ready for unloading/loading.

Slipway built to feed the moats in the upper levels with trading boats

Two Possible Slipways – one connecting directly to a Dyke

To reinforce the use of this site as a trading The site as a trading place has a second vertical earthwork identified through LiDAR technology. This secondary slipway is distinguishable from the initial structure by its lack of connection to a dyke or river. The slipway appears to traverse from the lowest moat up to the top of the site. While photographs may provide a visual reference, the full extent and significance of this feature are best understood through LiDAR models, which enhance the landscape to reveal these historical elements with greater clarity.place, a second verticle earthwork has been identified via LiDAR technology is a secondary slipway, distinguishable from the initial structure by its lack of connection to a dyke or river. This slipway appears to traverse from the lowest moat up to the top of the site. While photographs may provide a visual reference, the full extent and significance of this feature are best understood through LiDAR models, which enhance the landscape to reveal these historical elements with greater clarity.

The Dykes seen on the LiDAR map are concentrated on the quarry in the East of the Site

Dating the Site

Archaeologists are puzzled by the unexpected dates of this site at South Cadbury Castle, the site that was originally thought to be Iron Age from its classification. Therefore, the discovery of Neolithic pits at the site challenges their previously held beliefs about its functions. However, instead of reconsidering their perceptions, they instead provided speculative explanations for these out-of-time artifacts and features. For example, they have described a bank beneath the Iron Age defenses as a “lynchet or terrace derived from early ploughing,” even though there is no carbon dating evidence to support this claim. In reality, this site is likely to be Neolithic, and the ‘lynchets’ could be Mesolithic banks, indicating its true age.

The discovery of the Bronze Age shield is also an indication of the status of the site and its trading routes – as only one has been found, this would indicate that it was part of the trading or personal ownership of someone in the 10th Century BC at this site. This suggests that this was trading could have been at a much earlier date than current archaeologists suggest, which could too have been with the Mediterranean and a possible source of this unusual artefact, as indicated by the other finds from the late saxon period.

Function of the site

The fact that in the East of this site is one of the largest quarries in Somerset and that the Saxons used the fort as a mint just over a thousand years ago proves that the site’s function was a mineral extraction and trading point. This extraction goes back to the Mesolithic period shown on LiDAR maps with a natural harbour by the Quarries and then Dykes to the Trading site as the prehistoric waters fell. No doubt (as the banks are found not to be defensive), the fort was fortified later during the Roman period with Stone as it was to keep the valuable minerals safe but not as a defensive barrier of warfare as suggested. This would explain the minor disturbances and deaths at a single gate as raiders would have attempted to steal the valuable minerals it contained in its workshops, as described by archaeologists.

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, Doggerland and Atlantis connection

Posted on March 31, 2026 by admin

Introduction

The third book in my trilogy aims to weave together the discoveries made across Britain, with a particular focus on Stonehenge, to shed light on a civilisation that archaeologists have termed the ‘megalithic builders.’ This civilisation is markedly distinct from those that came after, showcasing an extraordinary level of capability and engineering skill in moving vast stones and constructing earthworks that have endured for nearly ten thousand years. These achievements are even more striking when compared to the structures left by the Romans, who occupied these lands for hundreds of years yet left behind fewer enduring monuments. (Stonehenge, Doggerland and Atlantis connection)

Video

The megalithic builders’ legacy, characterised by iconic structures such as Stonehenge, reveals a sophisticated understanding of both engineering and astronomy. Their ability to align massive stones with celestial events suggests a deep connection to their environment and a complex societal organisation capable of undertaking such monumental projects. This civilisation’s accomplishments in stone construction and earthwork highlight their technical prowess and cultural and spiritual values, as many of these sites are believed to have served practical purposes.

Long Barrows of Europe – centred over The North Sea (Doggerland) – (Stonehenge, Doggerland and Atlantis connection)

In writing this third book, I aimed to connect the dots between various megalithic sites across Britain and explore the knowledge, skills, and motivations of the people who built them. By examining the evidence left by the megalithic builders, from the stones they transported and erected to the earthworks they shaped, we can gain insights into a civilisation that continues to fascinate and inspire despite its distance in time.

This exploration is an academic exercise and a journey into the heart of a civilisation whose creations still stand as a testament to human ingenuity and perseverance. The megalithic builders may have vanished into the mists of time, but their legacy endures, inviting us to marvel at their achievements and to contemplate our own place in the continuum of human history.

The Megalthic Builders

The megalithic builders, a fascinating civilisation from our prehistoric past, operated on a scale and with a level of cooperation that transcends modern conceptions of boundaries and nation-states. Their domain spanned northern Europe, a testament to their widespread influence and shared cultural or technological practices. Unlike the segmented and often isolated cultures that followed, these ancient builders engaged in monumental constructions that served both the living and the dead, creating long barrows and dolmens as eternal resting places and linear earthwork canals and stone trading circles for the living.

One of the most intriguing aspects of their civilisation is the central role played by an area now submerged beneath the North Sea, known as Doggerland. This now-lost land, which started to succumb to rising sea levels approximately 9,000 years ago, was once a vital part of a massive Mesolithic landscape. Doggerland connected the British Isles to mainland Europe, serving as a crossroads for people, ideas, and goods. The remnants of this landscape, including the Dogger Bank, provide a tantalising glimpse into a world where megalithic builders thrived, interacting with their environment and with one another in sophisticated ways.

Temple to the dead and mid-winter solstice — Stonehenge is a moon temple made for the dead – (Stonehenge, Doggerland and Atlantis connection)

The disappearance of Doggerland due to post-glacial sea level rise did not merely result in the loss of land; it marked the end of a significant chapter in human history. This transformation from a vast, interconnected landscape to a series of islands fundamentally altered the trajectory of European civilisation. The megalithic builders’ legacy, however, remains etched in the stone and earthworks that dot the landscape of northern Europe, enduring monuments to their engineering prowess and cosmopolitan outlook.

Their achievements compel us to reconsider our understanding of prehistoric societies, challenging us to appreciate the complexity and depth of human ingenuity long before the advent of written history. The megalithic builders remind us that the desire to connect, communicate, and commemorate is a fundamental aspect of the human condition, transcending time, space, and the ever-changing contours of the earth.

The Stonehenge Connection

We can see from their greatest achievement, Stonehenge, a ‘message in a bottle’ that the megalithic builders left us some 5,000 years ago. Although subsequent civilisations reused and altered aspects of the Stonehenge Monument, some of the most influential stones and structures still survive in situ, owing to the megalithic ability to manoeuvre vast weights, which effectively hindered lesser cultures in their attempts to radically alter the site’s significance.

The origins of the Altar Stone at Stonehenge, described by Professor Hawkins as a “fine-grained pale green sandstone” notable for its mica flakes and glitter”, have long been a subject of speculation among experts. The prevailing theories had pointed towards Wales or Devon as the stone’s source. However, recent findings challenge this perspective, suggesting the stone could have originated much farther afield, potentially as far north as Scotland. This revelation aligns with my hypothesis, presented in my book over a decade ago, proposing an even more dramatic provenance for the Altar Stone—not just from the north, but from the northeast, specifically from the submerged landscapes of Doggerland.

Alter Stone recumbent stone - one of just two — The Altar is one of only two recumbents

Doggerland, the now-submerged landmass that once connected the British Isles to mainland Europe, represents a significant part of Mesolithic Europe’s landscape. The suggestion that the Altar Stone might have originated in this ancient, lost territory adds a fascinating layer to our understanding of Stonehenge’s construction. It implies that the builders of Stonehenge not only could transport massive stones over vast distances but also that their network of trade or cultural exchange spanned a far greater area than previously thought, encompassing regions that are now beneath the sea.

The connection between Doggerland and Stonehenge, particularly through the Altar Stone, hints at a deeply intertwined prehistoric landscape that extends beyond current geographical boundaries. The intriguing alignment from the Altar Stone towards the last vestiges of Doggerland, known as the Isle of Dogger, intersects with another enigmatic feature of Stonehenge: the Slaughter Stone. This stone, distinctively recumbent and partially buried by the surrounding ditch, has long puzzled archaeologists. Its unique position within the Stonehenge complex and the name attributed to it by the Druids suggest a significant ceremonial or symbolic role.

Altar Stone and slaughter stone points to doggerland — Altar Stone and Slaughter Stone align with Doggerland

The deliberate placement of the Slaughter Stone, when considered in relation to the direction towards the remnants of Doggerland, could indicate a symbolic gesture by the builders of Stonehenge, perhaps to commemorate or maintain a connection with their ancestral lands now submerged beneath the North Sea. This alignment and the specific use of stones from distant locations underscore the profound sense of purpose and meaning the Stonehenge builders invested in the site’s construction.

Slaughter stone - burried in shallow ditch of water — The chalk under the Slaugher stone was cut away for a purpose

These potential connections to Doggerland not only expand our understanding of Stonehenge’s geographical and cultural significance but also invite us to consider the broader networks of communication, travel, and exchange that existed in prehistoric Europe. The use of stones from such distant sources and the possible alignments with lost lands hint at an intricate web of relationships and a deep historical consciousness among the people who constructed Stonehenge.

As we continue to unravel the mysteries of Stonehenge and its stones, the importance of considering wider landscapes and connections becomes clear. The potential links to Doggerland offer a tantalising glimpse into the minds of the megalithic builders, revealing a world where memory, landscape, and the movement of materials were intimately connected. These insights challenge us to look beyond the immediate vicinity of prehistoric monuments and to consider the vast, now-hidden landscapes that were once integral to the lives and beliefs of ancient peoples.

Slaughter Stone - a relief map of doggerland — The Slaughrer stone is in fact a relief map (found after a HE scan) and not natural – the ground has been removed so to create an island surrounded by water

This hypothesis challenges the conventional archaeological narrative and suggests a level of sophistication and reach in prehistoric societies that is only now being understood. It underscores the importance of reconsidering and expanding our investigation into the origins and connections of the materials and people involved in creating monumental structures like Stonehenge. As we continue to uncover more about these ancient builders, their methods, and their world, it becomes increasingly clear that their achievements were far more complex and interconnected than once imagined, bridging lands now separated by waters but once part of a vast, interconnected landscape.

The Atlantis Connection

The completion of the quest to pinpoint the homeland of the megalithic builders marks a significant milestone in our understanding of this remarkable civilisation. The evidence of their extraordinary engineering achievements, from constructing monumental stone structures like Stonehenge to creating extensive earthworks such as Silbury Hill, underscores the sophistication and capabilities of these ancient architects and engineers. Without the modern machinery and technology we rely on today, their achievements in construction speak to a profound understanding of their environment and a remarkable ability to manipulate natural materials to their will.

Given the scale of their constructions and the distances over which materials, such as the stones used in megaliths, were transported, it becomes clear that these builders possessed sophisticated transportation methods. The absence of roads for moving such massive stones over vast distances suggests that ships and boats were essential to their way of life. Waterways would have served as the arteries of trade, travel, and communication, connecting distant communities and facilitating the exchange of goods, ideas, and cultural practices across Europe.

We have found prehistoric Catamarans made to carry stones – Wales oldest Boat Yard

This reliance on maritime technology indicates that the megalithic builders were skilled engineers, architects, and adept sailors and navigators. Using boats would have allowed them to traverse prehistoric Europe’s coastal and riverine landscapes, enabling the widespread distribution of their megalithic culture. Such capabilities would have been crucial for orchestrating the large-scale cooperative efforts to construct the monumental stone structures that define their legacy.

The comparison with the maritime achievements of the Greeks and Romans, celebrated for their advancements in shipbuilding and navigation, underscores the significance of the megalithic builders’ accomplishments. Their ability to harness the power of water for transportation and communication is a testament to their ingenuity and a critical factor in their success as a civilisation.

The megalithic builders’ reliance on maritime technology for movement and communication across Europe highlights a sophisticated understanding of their environment and an unparalleled ability to manipulate it to their advantage. This aspect of their civilisation offers valuable insights into the complexity of prehistoric societies and challenges us to expand our appreciation of their technological and cultural achievements.

Plato

The tale of Atlantis, as recounted by Plato, stands as one of the most captivating stories from antiquity, blurring the line between historical account and mythological narrative. Over time, the story of this advanced civilisation that supposedly sank into the sea around 9,000 years ago has been transformed by modern interpretations and entertainment into something more akin to science fiction. This transformation has, unfortunately, obscured the significance of Plato’s account, relegating it to the realm of mere fantasy in the eyes of many.

Plato, a philosopher of unparalleled influence in Western thought, presented the story of Atlantis not as a myth but as a recounting of historical fact told to him by Solon, who had learned it from Egyptian priests. According to the narrative, Atlantis was a civilisation of great power and technological prowess, with ships that traversed the globe and a highly advanced society.

The comparison between the story of Atlantis and the archaeological evidence of Doggerland and the megalithic builders is striking. Like the Atlanteans, the people of Doggerland, who lived around 10,000 years ago, exhibited advanced capabilities, particularly in maritime technology. They built monumental structures and possessed the knowledge to navigate and sail to distant lands. This evidence challenges the prevailing academic view of prehistoric societies as simplistic hunter-gatherer tribes and aligns with Plato’s description of Atlantis as a great and advanced civilisation.

Moreover, the presence of notable figures such as Solon, a key figure in the development of democracy in ancient Greece, and Socrates, celebrated for his wisdom, in the dialogues discussing Atlantis, lends credibility to the account. Their involvement suggests that the story was taken seriously by some of the most respected thinkers of the time, who did not dismiss it as mere fiction.

Some academics’ reluctance to accept the possibility of advanced prehistoric civilisations is perhaps understandable, given the scarcity of direct archaeological evidence and the challenge of separating historical fact from myth. However, the megalithic stones and the submerged landscapes of Doggerland offer tangible links to a past that may have been far more complex and interconnected than previously acknowledged.

The possible connection between Doggerland, the story of Atlantis told by Plato, and the initial stages of Stonehenge’s construction around 8300 BCE suggests that these ancient events might be related or share a common origin. Dating the beginning of Stonehenge to such an early era aligns with the timeline of Plato’s Atlantean civilisation, suggesting a potential connection or shared features between the Stonehenge builders and the advanced society described in the Atlantis legend.

This theory challenges commonly accepted beliefs about the achievements and timelines of prehistoric humans. It suggests that Stonehenge, a monument that has fascinated scholars and visitors for centuries, might have originated during the same period as the legendary civilisation of Atlantis. This discovery prompts a reassessment of human activities during the Mesolithic period.

It is possible to imagine a prehistoric world where societies were not only technologically advanced but also well-connected across vast distances, given the architectural complexity and navigational skills demonstrated in the stories of these civilisations. The hypothesis that the megalithic builders, who were capable of maritime travel and of constructing monumental structures like Stonehenge, might have shared a cultural or historical link with the Atlanteans adds depth to the narrative of human history during the Mesolithic era.

This viewpoint emphasises a more inclusive and transparent approach to archaeology, emphasising the significance of sustained inquiry and the readiness to question conventional historical accounts. With the emergence of new findings challenging long-standing assumptions, the links among Doggerland, Atlantis, and Stonehenge exemplify the intricate and multifaceted nature of early human civilisation’s accomplishments.

Plato’s description of an Atlantis city fits the design of Causewayed Enclosures

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 Crescent: A Monument to a Lost World

Posted on March 29, 2026 by admin

A Monument to the Dead — Not the Sun

One of the most recognisable images in archaeology is that of a perfect circular Stonehenge — a continuous ring of upright stones capped with lintels. (The Stonehenge Crescent: A Monument to a Lost World)

You’ve seen it everywhere:

Textbooks
Reconstructions
Documentaries

It has become the accepted version of the monument.

There is just one problem.

Stonehenge was never built that way.

(The Stonehenge Crescent: A Monument to a Lost World)

The Myth of the Perfect Circle

The circular Stonehenge exists more in illustration than in reality.

When we examine the monument itself, the physical evidence tells a very different story:

Several stones required to complete the circle are missing
Others are too small to support lintels
Some are incorrectly positioned for a continuous ring
Stone holes reveal uprights that do not conform to a circular design

This creates a fundamental contradiction.

If Stonehenge was intended to be a perfect solar temple, then:

It was never completed
Or it was deliberately dismantled

Both explanations are unsatisfactory.

There is a far simpler solution.

It was never meant to be a complete circle.

Structural Proof: Stone 11 Breaks the Model

This conclusion is not just interpretive — it is structural.

One stone alone exposes the flaw in the circular theory.

Stone 11.

This stone is:

Smaller than its neighbours
Structurally inadequate
Incapable of supporting a lintel

This is critical.

A continuous lintel ring requires every upright to meet a basic engineering condition:

It must support load.

Stone 11 cannot.

This is not a minor anomaly. It is a mechanical failure within the supposed design.

There are only two possible explanations:

The builders made a fundamental structural mistake
The circle was never intended to be continuous

Given the precision elsewhere in the monument, the first option is highly unlikely.

Which leaves only one conclusion:

Stone 11 is not an error — it is evidence.

It proves that the monument was never designed as a complete ring.

A Different Shape Emerges

When we examine all surviving stones and stone holes together, a new pattern appears.

Not a circle.

A crescent.

The Sarsen arrangement — particularly the inner trilithon horseshoe — reinforces this, forming a crescent within a crescent.

This is deliberate.

And its orientation matters.

Death, Not the Sun

Across ancient cultures:

The sun represents life and continuity
The circle reflects that — endless and complete

But death is different.

Death is transition.

And that transition is often symbolised by the crescent moon — a passage between darkness and renewal.

Stonehenge aligns with this symbolism precisely.

The structure faces the Winter Solstice sunset:

The lowest point of the sun
The moment of greatest darkness
The turning point before light returns

This is not a monument to life.

It is a monument to transition.

The Missing Stones Tell the Story

The pattern of missing stones strengthens this interpretation.

If stones had been removed later, we would expect:

Random distribution
Removal from accessible locations

But instead:

The majority of missing stones occur in the south-western quadrant
This is the least accessible area

This is not random.

It is intentional.

The monument was designed to be open in this direction — forming a crescent aligned with the Winter Solstice sunset.

The Altar Stone and the Slaughter Stone

At the centre of the monument lies the Altar Stone:

Fine-grained sandstone
Rich in mica
Distinct from all other stones

It is also placed flat.

This is unusual — but not unique.

Near the entrance lies the Slaughter Stone, also recumbent.

Excavations in the 1920s showed:

The chalk beneath it was deliberately levelled
It was always intended to lie flat

Even more importantly:

It sits in a shallow depression
Connected to the ditch system
Likely water-filled under higher groundwater conditions

This would have made the stone appear as a small island in water.

A Monument Built in Water

This aligns directly with the hydrological model of early Holocene Britain.

Evidence shows that:

Water tables were significantly higher
River systems were larger
Floodplains dominated the landscape

Stonehenge was not a dry site.

It existed within a water-controlled environment

The Altar Stone: A Geological Clue

The Altar Stone introduces another layer of evidence.

It is widely accepted that:

It originates from outside the local region
It travelled over long distances

Traditional explanations suggest land transport.

But there is a problem.

Across hundreds of kilometres:

No prehistoric roads
No engineered trackways
No infrastructure for overland movement

What we do find is:

Extensive river systems
Floodplains
Palaeochannels

The conclusion is straightforward:

The stones were transported by water.

The Doggerland Origin Hypothesis

There is an additional, often overlooked possibility.

The geological composition of the Altar Stone matches:

Bedrock found in northern Britain
And bedrock mapped beneath the North Sea

This is critical.

Because during the early Holocene:

The North Sea was not fully submerged
It was a vast landmass

Doggerland.

If the Altar Stone originated from this region, then:

It was not just transported across distance
It was brought from a landscape that no longer exists

A Lost Source Beneath the Sea

Geological evidence shows that Doggerland:

Contained exposed bedrock
Shared lithological characteristics with the Altar Stone
Was progressively flooded between ~9000 and 8000 years ago

This reframes the stone completely.

It is no longer just imported material.

It becomes:

a fragment of a lost homeland.

A Deliberate Sightline

The Altar Stone and Slaughter Stone form a direct alignment:

From the centre
Through the entrance
Along the Avenue
Toward the ancient river system

When extended beyond the monument, this line points toward:

Doggerland.

This is not coincidence.

Ancient monuments frequently connect:

Structure
Landscape
Memory

Stonehenge does all three.

A Monument Built from Memory

When combined:

Crescent design
Solstice alignment
Directional sightline
Geological connection

The interpretation becomes clear.

Stonehenge is not simply pointing toward a lost world.

It may contain material from it.

The Hidden Interior: Stonehenge as a Painted Space

There is another overlooked feature.

The inner faces of the Sarsen stones are flattened.

This required:

Significant labour
Controlled shaping
Time investment across multiple stones

This was not done casually.

It was done for a reason.

The Effort Behind the Surfaces

Flattening stone with prehistoric tools would have taken:

Weeks per stone
Possibly months across the structure

Prehistoric societies do not waste effort.

Every action has purpose.

These surfaces were prepared for something important.

A Cultural Memory Lost

Before the Ice Age, the ancestors of these builders created:

Complex cave art
Symbolic imagery
Advanced visual culture

After this period, the art seems to disappear.

But it didn’t.

The medium changed

The Missing Medium

We know:

Pigments were used
Bodies were painted
Symbolism was central

But open-air artwork does not survive:

Rain erodes it
Sunlight fades it
Time destroys it

Over 10,000 years, it vanishes.

Stonehenge as an Art Space

Now reconsider the monument:

Flattened inner stone surfaces
Enclosed space
Controlled environment

These are perfect conditions for:

painting

A Prehistoric Gallery

Instead of bare stone, imagine:

Painted surfaces
Symbolic imagery
Cultural storytelling
Ancestral representation

Stonehenge becomes:

a sacred visual environment

From Cold Stone to Living Culture

What we see today:

Weathered stone
Empty surfaces
Structural remains

What once existed:

Colour
Meaning
Cultural expression

Not a ruin.

But a gallery of memory and identity.

A Memorial to a Lost World

When all evidence is combined:

The crescent form reflects death
The solstice alignment marks transition
The sightline points toward Doggerland
The Altar Stone may originate from that drowned land
The interior may have been painted with cultural memory

The meaning becomes clear.

Stonehenge is not a solar temple.

It is a memorial.

Final Conclusion

Stonehenge was not built to mark the movement of the sun.

It was built to remember.

To record a moment in human history when:

A landscape was lost
A homeland disappeared
A civilisation adapted

The stones do not just stand.

They point.

They align.

They remember.

And once you remove the myth of the circle, the monument finally makes sense.

Stonehenge was never a circle.
It was a message.

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 Bluestone Enigma

Posted on March 26, 2026 by admin

Introduction

The Bluestone quarry sites give us compelling evidence of the Mesolithic construction dates of Stonehenge (The Bluestone Enigma)

The papers published by researchers from the University of London, Southampton, and Manchester, including Mike Parker-Pearson and his team, regarding the discovery of the quarries at Craig Rhos-y-Felin and the bluestone megaliths at Carn Goedog have been a significant contribution to our understanding of Stonehenge’s origins. This research brought to light the fascinating theory that Stonehenge was originally built in Wales and later transported to Salisbury Plain around 500 years later.

This groundbreaking discovery not only captured the attention of archaeologists worldwide but also challenged previous assumptions about the methods and motivations behind Stonehenge’s construction. The idea that these bluestones were quarried and shaped in Wales before making their journey to Salisbury Plain adds a new dimension to our understanding of prehistoric peoples’ capabilities and social organisation.

This revelation suggests a remarkable level of dedication and coordination among ancient communities. The logistical feat of transporting these massive stones over such a distance, and the decision to do so centuries after their initial quarrying, hints at the profound significance these stones—and the monument they came to form—held for the people of the time.

As someone deeply interested in the mysteries of ancient civilisations, I find the implications of this research thrilling. It deepens our appreciation for the ingenuity and spiritual dedication of our ancestors and opens up new avenues for exploring the cultural and religious ties that connected different regions of prehistoric Britain.

Prescilli Mountains in Wales – The Bluestone Enigma

Craig Rhos-Y-Felin

The publication of the report “Craig Rhos-y-Felin: a Welsh bluestone megalith quarry for Stonehenge” in the December 2016 edition of Antiquity Magazine unveiled intriguing findings about the origins of the bluestones used in Stonehenge. This study, which identified a 4m long monolith at Craig Rhos-y-Felin as microscopically identical to the bluestones at Stonehenge, has sparked significant debate and speculation within the archaeological community and beyond.

Despite the excitement generated by these findings, the report’s focus on two radiocarbon dates that align with the authors’ hypothesis on Stonehenge’s construction date has raised questions about the completeness of the narrative presented to the public. The discrepancy between these dates and the hoped-for evidence led to the speculative suggestion that Stonehenge was originally constructed in Wales and later relocated to Salisbury Plain. This narrative, while intriguing, illustrates the complexities and challenges of interpreting archaeological data, as well as the temptation to fit new evidence into pre-existing hypotheses.

However, a more detailed analysis of the report reveals a wealth of Mesolithic carbon dates obtained from human-made hearths, suggesting a much earlier period of human activity at the site than the two Neolithic dates highlighted. These Mesolithic dates, which significantly predate the construction of Stonehenge as currently understood, were largely overlooked in the public dissemination of the research findings.

This oversight raises essential questions about the narrative surrounding Stonehenge’s origins and the methodologies used in archaeological dating. The presence of Mesolithic hearths at Craig Rhos-y-Felin suggests that the site was of importance to human communities thousands of years before the Neolithic period. This evidence challenges the conventional timeline of Stonehenge’s construction and suggests a longer, more complex history of human interaction with the landscape and the bluestones.

Furthermore, the report inadvertently highlights the ongoing debate within archaeology about how best to interpret and present findings to the public. The focus on headline-grabbing narratives, such as the relocation of Stonehenge from Wales, can sometimes overshadow equally significant but less sensational discoveries, such as the evidence of Mesolithic activity at the quarry site.

An Inconvenient TRUTH (Craig Rhos Y Felin) — Mesolithic Post Holes at the Old Car Park at Stonehenge – The Bluestone Enigma

The excavation in 1966 and subsequent discoveries surrounding Stonehenge offer a fascinating and somewhat contentious glimpse into the complex task of accurately dating ancient sites. The initial observations by Lance and Faith Vatcher highlighted the Neolithic character of three holes excavated near Stonehenge, with no datable pottery found. Yet, the characteristics of the holes suggested a Neolithic origin. This assumption was later questioned when a PhD student discovered that the charcoal deposits from these holes, surprisingly composed mostly of pine, could not be Neolithic as initially thought. Pine was believed to be ‘extinct’ in the area by the time of Stonehenge’s supposed construction, according to pollen analysis.

This revelation was startling, especially to the officials of the Historic Buildings and Monuments Commission, later known as English Heritage. The carbon dating of these pine samples placed them squarely in the Mesolithic era, specifically between 8860 to 6590 BCE, challenging the previously accepted timeline for Stonehenge’s construction. Furthermore, the report mentions pine samples from Woodhenge, which, if also Mesolithic, would radically alter our understanding of that site’s age.

Stonehenge Car Park

Mesolithic Post Holes in Old Car Park – The Bluehenge Enigma

Instead of seizing this opportunity to delve deeper into these findings, a narrative was constructed that dismissed these posts as totem poles from wandering hunter-gatherers, unrelated to Stonehenge. This decision to sideline potentially groundbreaking evidence highlights a reluctance within some parts of the archaeological community to reconsider established narratives, even in the face of new evidence.

The discovery in 1988-89 by Wessex Archaeology of another Mesolithic post hole, along with a piece of rhyolite dated to 7737 – 7454 BCE, further complicates the timeline for Stonehenge and the surrounding area. This finding should have prompted a reevaluation of the site’s dating. However, attempts to fit this new evidence into the existing narrative of Stonehenge’s construction timeline illustrate the challenges and controversies inherent in archaeological interpretation.

These instances underscore the necessity for openness, curiosity, and a willingness to revise our understanding of history in light of new evidence. They remind us that the story of human history is complex and continually evolving, and our interpretations must adapt as we uncover more about our past.

Discoveries at Stonehenge, including charcoal (OxA-18655) found in the Hole socket of Stone 10, dating to 7330 – 7060 BCE, match the dates of the Mesolithic post holes, with significant implications for our understanding of the site’s history. This evidence, dating to the Mesolithic post holes, suggests that the activities at Stonehenge and its surroundings span much earlier than previously believed. However, the apparent suppression of this news from widespread media coverage raises questions about the narrative presented to the public and in educational materials.

The excavation at Blick Mead, less than a mile from Stonehenge, by the Open University, which uncovered evidence of Mesolithic-period habitation and feasting, further challenges the entrenched views held by some about prehistoric life around Stonehenge. These findings suggest a continuous and significant presence of people in this area during the Mesolithic period, contradicting the simplistic ‘totem pole’ myth still perpetuated in some narratives by English Heritage (EH) through their exhibitions and guidebooks.

Moreover, the recent transformation of the Stonehenge site, including the closure of the B-road past the stones and the relocation of the visitors’ car park to a new, multi-million-pound visitor centre, represents a significant shift in how the site is accessed and experienced by the public. The removal of the old tarmac and the reversion of the land to grass aim to restore a more authentic prehistoric ambience to Stonehenge. This effort to make the site appear more as it did at the time of its construction is commendable, but also highlights the ongoing tension between modern interpretations of the site and the emerging evidence of its ancient past.

These developments at Stonehenge and Blick Mead exemplify the dynamic nature of archaeological research and the complexities involved in interpreting and presenting the past. As new evidence continues to emerge, the narrative of prehistoric Britain needs to evolve accordingly, ensuring a more accurate and nuanced understanding of these ancient landscapes and their significance to human history.

You would indeed think that removing the tarmac from the old visitor car park at Stonehenge, especially given the significant previous findings beneath it, would prompt a comprehensive excavation to unearth more evidence of the site’s Mesolithic history. Such an excavation could potentially transform our understanding of Stonehenge and its origins, providing invaluable insights into its early history and the people who frequented the site during the Mesolithic period.

Tim Daw’s role as a warden at Stonehenge, combined with his proactive approach to documenting changes and features of the site through photography, exemplifies the kind of engaged observation that can lead to important discoveries. His finding of patch marks by the central upright stones, indicating the possible positions of missing stones from the Inner Circle, is a testament to the contributions individuals can make to the ongoing investigation of Stonehenge. Daw’s work underscores the value of continuous and attentive observation of archaeological sites, even by those not formally conducting research.

The discovery of such features and the potential for further findings beneath the former car park area highlights the need for a thorough and systematic archaeological examination whenever opportunities arise. These efforts not only enrich our knowledge of Stonehenge’s past but also contribute to the broader understanding of prehistoric human activity in the region. As we continue to peel back the layers of Stonehenge’s history, each finding adds a piece to the puzzle of this enigmatic monument’s story, emphasising the importance of preserving and exploring our archaeological heritage.

Tim Daw’s experiences and observations as a warden at Stonehenge, particularly his discovery of additional post holes beneath the old visitor’s car park, highlight the ongoing potential for new findings that can challenge and enrich our understanding of Stonehenge’s history. Despite being warned against publishing his conclusions due to unauthorised blog activity, Daw chose to resign and continue his work, revealing, through ‘unofficial’ pictures, the existence of even more post holes under the car park, aligned with those discovered in 1966.

Bluestone Quarries

These findings, including the newly discovered post hole that aligns with the four others from 1966, support the hypothesis that these structures are situated on what was once the shoreline of the River Avon around 8000 BCE. This suggests that during the Mesolithic period, the stones quarried in Wales could have been transported by boat directly to Stonehenge, navigating along enlarged rivers rather than taking the longer sea route proposed by some archaeologists.

Further complicating the narrative are my analyses of the bluestone structures from other Preseli sites like Carn Goedog and Craig Talfynyydd, which are connected by streams and rivers to the River Nevern. Unfortunately, archaeologists have interpreted this network of waterways primarily through a religious lens rather than considering its practical functionality as a transportation network.

The persistence of the ‘ox-cart’ route theory, which posits a land route along the modern A40, overlooks the logistical challenges posed by the period’s dense woods, swamps, and forests. Such conditions would have made the construction and use of a road system highly impractical, if not impossible.

My critique extends to the inconsistencies and logical inaccuracies in the archaeological narrative, particularly regarding the site layout and geological evidence at Craig Rhos-y-Felin. The assumption that floodwaters in the area were solely the result of ice melt, quickly draining into the sea post-Ice Age, ignores the broader implications of such flooding for the landscape and its inhabitants.

We confirm in the report that an old river ran around this quarry as long ago as 5620 – 5460 BCE and possibly as late as 1030 – 910 BCE.

“Most of the site was then covered by a layer of yellow colluvium (035), dated by oak charcoal to 1030–910 cal BC (combine SUERC-46199; 2799±30 BP and SUERC-46203; 2841±28 BP). This deposit is contemporary with the uppermost fill of a palaeochannel of the Brynberian stream that flowed past the northern tip of the outcrop. Charcoal of Corylus and Tilia from the basal fill of this palaeochannel dates to 5800–5640 cal BC (OxA- 32021; 6833±40 BP) and 5620–5460 cal BC (OxA-32022; 6543±37 BP), both at 95.4% probability.”

The report’s insights suggest that during the Mesolithic Period, an enlarged stream that fed into the River Nevern reached the quarry outcrop rocks. Notably, it was positioned just a few meters away, even as late as 1000 BCE. This geographical configuration suggests that boats were likely the primary means of transporting the large, newly quarried stones to their final destination at Stonehenge, mirroring stone transport methods in other ancient civilisations, such as Egypt.

The site layout at the quarry provides crucial clues about the timing of the stone quarrying. Notably, a single monolith is positioned near the river on the site’s east side, ready for transportation. Nearby, to the south of this monolith, are human-made hearths, precisely where one would expect them to be. However, the challenge arises in dating these hearths as Mesolithic, with three distinct periods identified: 8550 – 8330 BCE; 8220 – 7790 BCE; and 7490 – 7190 BCE. Despite this, the report asserts that there is no evidence of Mesolithic quarrying or working of rhyolite at this site.

This claim overlooks the practical use of tools across different periods. If Mesolithic and Neolithic communities utilised similar tools, distinguishing tool marks from these different periods might be more challenging than the report suggests. Moreover, the presence of these communities at the quarry for over a millennium raises questions about their activities if not quarrying the stones.

The connection between the quarry site and Stonehenge is strengthened by over twenty Carbon-14 dates that align with my hypothesis, in contrast to the mere two samples currently highlighted by experts, which are dated 300 – 500 years older than existing estimates. By analysing these overlapping dates against the latest carbon-dating curve (IntCal20), we can refine the construction date of Stonehenge’s Phase I (the placement of bluestones in the Aubrey holes). By calculating the mean of these probable dates, we aim to obtain a more accurate estimate of when this monumental task was undertaken, potentially rewriting the timeline of one of the world’s most enigmatic prehistoric monuments.

Carbon Dating

Stonehenge	Old Car Park (Ref. and Date)	Craig Rhos-Y-Felin Ref	Craig Rhos-Y-Felin Dates	Carn Goedog Ref & Dates
Post Hole A	HAR-455 (8825 – 7742)	SUERC-50761 OxA-30507 OxA- 30548¹ SUERC-51164 SUERC-50760 OxA-30549 SUERC-51165 OxA-30506 OxA-30548² OxA-30506² OxA-30547 OxA-30504	8550 – 8330 8471 – 8285 8286 – 8163 8289 – 8169 8211 – 7955 8238 – 7941 8216 – 7785 8021 – 7792 8122 – 7962 8207 – 8030 8012 – 7711 8281 – 8166
Post Hole B	HAR–456 (7377 – 6651)	OxA-30503²	7232 – 7188	OxA31823 – 7190 to 6840
WA 9580	GU-5109 (8259 – 7742)	OxA- 30548 SUERC-51164 SUERC-50760 OxA-30549 SUERC-51165 OxA-30506 OxA-30548² OxA-30506² OxA-30547 OxA-30504	8286 – 8163 8289 – 8169 8211 – 7955 8238 – 7941 8216 – 7785 8021 – 7792 8122 – 7962 8207 – 8030 8012 – 7711 8281 – 8166
WA 9580	QxA-4219 (7737 – 7454)	Beta-392850 OxA-30547	7944 – 7648 8012 – 7711	OxA-35184 – 7590 to 7380
WA 9580	QxA-4220 (7595 – 7178)	SUERC-51163 OxA-30523 OxA-305031¹	7539 – 7308 7472 – 7182 7485 – 7248

Carbon Dates comparison – note that the sites are linked to different mooring posts, indicating activity dates

Table 1– Matching Carbon Dates

The calculations indicate that work at the quarry began around 8300 BCE, with its main phase of activity around 8000 BCE, and continued for at least a millennium, challenging the conventional narrative about Stonehenge and its Bluestones. This timeline suggests a far more ancient and enduring connection between the quarry site and Stonehenge than previously acknowledged.

Carn Goedog

Initially, Carn Menyn in the Preseli Hills was believed to be the source of Stonehenge’s spotted dolerite, but later analysis pinpointed Carn Goedog as a closer chemical match. Recent geochemical studies have divided the Stonehenge spotted dolerite into two main groups, with one group closely matching the Carn Goedog outcrop. The origin of the second group remains uncertain, potentially deriving from Carn Goedog or nearby outcrops.

Further geological investigations at Stonehenge have identified additional sources for its bluestones. Unspotted dolerite matches with outcrops at Cerrigmarchogion and Craig Talfynydd on the Preseli ridge. Another bluestone variety, “rhyolite with fabric,” traces back to Craig Rhos-y-Felin, while a source of Lower Palaeozoic sandstone has been identified north of the Preseli hills. The origin of volcanic tuffs found at Stonehenge also likely lies in the Preseli area.

Preseli Mountains and Quarry Sites are ALL by rivers – The Bluestone Enigma

Surface indications of post-medieval Quarrying, particularly on its south side, have evidenced Carn Goedog’s accessibility. This historical quarrying, distinguishable by cylindrical drill holes on some quarried blocks at the outcrop’s base, was performed using the ‘plug-and-feather’ technique with metal wedges. The discovery of a worn trade token beneath one of these blocks helps date this activity to around 1800.

In 2014, test trenching along the southern edge of Carn Goedog revealed layers of human activity spanning various periods, from the recent centuries in trench 3 to deeper prehistorical layers in trench 2. Trench 1, strategically positioned at the outcrop’s base and just beyond the eastern limit of the early modern quarry debris, was particularly significant. It was seen as offering a unique opportunity to uncover evidence of prehistoric quarrying that hadn’t been disturbed by later activities.

This layered historical context at Carn Goedog is crucial for understanding the complex human interactions with the site over millennia. The evidence for prehistoric quarrying, undisturbed by later post-medieval activity, provides invaluable insights into the methods and technologies used by ancient peoples to extract and transport the stones that contributed to the construction of monumental structures like Stonehenge.

Trench 1 was enlarged in 2015 and 2016 to reveal features that may relate to prehistoric quarrying activity. At the southern foot of the outcrop, excavation revealed an artificial platform of flat slabs—many of them split—laid (with the split faces upwards) in a tongue-shaped formation 10m north–south by at least 8m east–west (Figure 6).

Those slabs lying against the face of the outcrop had been pressed into the underlying sediments, presumably by the weight of pillars lowered onto the platform. The platform terminates from the outcrop with a vertical drop of 0.9m to the ground surface beyond. This platform is stratigraphically earlier than a series of deposits that included early modern quarrying debris and hearths of the Roman and medieval periods. One hearth (Figure 6: 105) set within a gap in the platform where a slab had been removed produced charcoal dating to 7190–6840 cal BC (8091±38 BP) and 2890–2630 cal BC (4164±30 BP) (Table 1).

The findings across the quarry sites, including Carn Goedog and Craig Rhos-y-Felin, point to a nuanced understanding of how the bluestones were utilised and replenished at Stonehenge. The hearths discovered at these sites, particularly those dating to the Mesolithic and Neolithic periods, suggest ongoing human activity and potentially organised efforts to quarry and transport bluestones over extended periods. This insight challenges the conventional explanation that the transportation of Bluestones to Stonehenge was a singular event.

The Stonehenge Layer

The evidence of modern quarrying at both the northern and southern ends of these sites and the dates from central hearths align with observations made at Craig Rhos-y-felin. Our research, as outlined in published books, supports the theory that ancestors chipped bluestones at Stonehenge for healing, utilising the water in the ditch to bathe their sickness away, as evidenced by the ‘Stonehenge Layer’ discovered by Dervill and Wainwright in 2008. This practice would naturally lead to the depletion of bluestones over time, necessitating periodic replenishment from the quarries.

The conventional narrative, which posits that the bluestones were transported to Stonehenge in a one-off event, needs to account for the scientific data emerging from these quarry sites and the Stonehenge site. The evidence suggests a more complex interaction with these stones, involving repeated quarrying and transportation activities that likely spanned centuries. This ongoing relationship with the bluestones reflects a deeper functional connection to them, underscoring the importance of revisiting and revising our understanding of Stonehenge’s construction and the role of the bluestones within this prehistoric monument.

English Heritage’s significant investment in the Stonehenge Visitors Centre, including the creation of exhibitions that present established theories about the monument’s origins and functions, raises questions about the implications of discoveries that contradict these narratives. If foundational assumptions about Stonehenge are proven incorrect, it could have financial repercussions, particularly if the narrative presented to the public through expensive exhibitions becomes outdated or inaccurate. This situation underscores the complex relationship between archaeological research, public interpretation, and financial investments in heritage sites.

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

Tag: Prehistoric Britain

Introduction

The Documentary

Conclusion

Memoir

PODCAST

Author’s Biography

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Further Reading

Other Blogs

Introduction

Part 2

Cerne Abbas

Poor Conclusions

Prehistoric Landscape

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 –

PODCAST

Author’s Biography

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Further Reading

Other Blogs

Introduction

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

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

Trading Hub or Temple? The Functional Shift

The Silbury Lighthouse: A Beacon for Ancient Mariners

LiDAR: The Paramount Tool Archaeologists Are Missing

Conclusion: Whispers from the Ancient Shoreline

PODCAST

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Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Further Reading

Other Blogs

Introduction

The Illusion of the “Defensive Dyke”

Car Dyke — Britain’s Longest Engineered Water System

Wansdyke — Not One Dyke, But Two

Offa’s Dyke — The Missing 60%

The Vallum — Not a Barrier, But a Transport System

A New Interpretation — Water, Not War

The Hydrological Civilisation

Conclusion — The End of Assumption-Based Archaeology

PodCast

Author’s Biography

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Further Reading

Other Blogs

Introduction

Sky News Online:

Grote Mandrenke

British Geological Society

Post-Glacial Flooding

Durrington Walls

Harbour

Avebury

Giant Ditches

Underground Bunkers

Location, Location, Location

Tornadoes

PodCast

Author’s Biography

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Further Reading

Other Blogs

Introduction

Wansdyke

West Wansdyke

Statonbury Camp near Bath – an example of West Wansdyke

PodCast

Author’s Biography

Exploring Prehistoric Britain: A Journey Through Time

Further Reading

Other Blogs

Introduction

The Problem with the Traditional Interpretation

Elevation and Function — The Missing Variable

Reframing the “Hillfort”

The Illusion of Continuity

A Simpler Model