This is kerb stone 78 at Knowth, located not far from the entrance to the western passage. It is one of 127 kerb stones at Knowth, of which 90 have megalithic art. But what do these symbols represent, if anything? Are they merely art for art’s sake?
American artist Martin Brennan published a book called The Stars and the Stones in 1984, having studied and drawn the megalithic art on almost all of the known decorated prehistoric stone sites in Ireland. Brennan’s overall supposition was that the ancient engravings at Neolithic sites such as Newgrange, Knowth, Loughcrew, and many others, were related to astronomy. His book was later republished as The Stones of Time.
The main plank of Brennan’s hypothesis was that the megalithic mounds and art are “interconnected, sophisticated calendar devices”. The summary on the back cover of the book says:
At critical times of the year, the rising or setting sun projects beams of light into the inner chambers of the mounds, illuminating specific images carved on the stones. Those images – seemingly abstract wheels, spirals, and wavy lines – suggest provocative new insights into their makers’ understanding of celestial cycles and the importance of those cycles in human affairs.
Brennan’s interpretation of kerb stone 78 (which he labelled as stone NW4 in his own personally devised numbering convention) is that it contains a diagrammatic representation of the moon through the use of what he calls “bijections or one-to-one correspondences with the phases of the moon”.
Brennan suggests that lunar imagery predominates on the kerb stones on the western portion of the great kerb of Knowth, where the crescents and arcs that dominate the imagery were generated by an interest in the moon and the division of time long before the age of mechanical clocks.
The crescents, waved lines and circles on Kerb 78 represent the phases of the moon, according to Brennan.
A ribbon-like development of the wavy line extends from the central image. The line follows a sequence shaped to fit the lunar month. The wavy line is transformed into crescents and then a full circle or full moon on the fourteenth count. A line divides the rest of the month, towards the end of which the crescents revert to the wavy line at the last quarter, defining a month of 30 days.
He proposed a second way of ordering the month using a different interpretation of the symbols. The top line counts from the first day of the moon as far as the seventeenth day, which is the day upon which the moon begins to wane. The sequence continues at the bottom of the stone, as far as day 27 and the last visible crescent. A final three-count wave represents the three invisible days of the moon.
Brennan's alternative lunar month count for kerb stone 78, Knowth.
The number 17 is often treated with special significance in connection with the moon, he says. "It may have had significance in a calendar of ritual. Usually it is the seventeenth phase of the moon which appears on the horizon and projects a beam of light into the mounds."
Brennan’s work is not without its detractors, and the analysis and categorisation of megalithic art has been an area of debate and dispute. Some scholars argue that the megalithic art is abstract and non-representative. Brennan, however, develops a comprehensive thesis around the astronomical symbolism and, coupled with his team’s important discoveries at Loughcrew and Dowth*, it all makes for a fascinating interpretation.
Kerb stone 78 at Knowth.
* Brennan, along with Jack Roberts and others, discovered that the southern passage at Dowth is aligned so that light from the setting sun on winter solstice reaches the stones at the rear of its circular chamber. They also discovered that Cairn T at Loughcrew is aligned so that a stone with solar emblems at the rear of its chamber is bathed with sunlight at dawn on the vernal and autumnal equinoxes.
Back in February of this year, at Imbolc, myself, Ken Williams and Lar Dooley witnessed the sunrise shining into the ancient passageway of Cairn U at Carnbane East, Loughcrew. That day, I noticed that when I was crouched in the chamber of Cairn U, the Hill of Tara was visible through the entrance of the passage. Based on that observation, I figured that a viewer on the Hill of Tara might see the sun setting over the hills of Loughcrew at Bealtaine (May) and Lughnasadh (August).
The Loughcrew Hills viewed from Duma na nGiall, Hill of Tara, with labels.
I was unable to get to Tara at Bealtaine, so I was determined to go there for Lughnasadh to see if I was right. This evening, standing on top of Duma na nGiall (Mound of the Hostages) at the Hill of Tara, I watched the sun get lower and lower in the western sky with my son, Finn. Above is a photo showing the hills as they appear from atop the Mound of the Hostages. It looked like it was heading for Loughcrew, but I couldn't be sure. So I watched and waited.
The sun setting over Cairn D, Carnbane West, and Carrigbrack, as viewed from Duma na nGiall.
And sure enough, as the sun set, it did so over Carnbane West and Carrigbrack, which appear almost as one hill as viewed from Tara. It was a beautiful sunset, and as the sun went down there was a lovely sun pillar (a vertical shaft of light extending upwards from the sun) reaching into the sky.
The sun pillar visible in the sky as the sun sets behind the hills of Loughcrew viewed from Tara.
So it appears that Duma na nGiall, the oldest monument on the Hill of Tara which is thought to date to the late Neolithic, around 5,000 years ago, is aligned with Loughcrew for (a) sunrise on Samhain/Imbolc viewed from Cairn U Loughcrew towards Tara; and (b) Bealtine/Lughnasadh sunset viewed from Tara towards Loughcrew.
The actual date of Lughnasadh this year was (I believe) August 7th, so the sun has moved a little bit to the south (left) since then. And I'm not sure how much the sun's position has changed at Lughnasadh from where it was 5,000 years ago. But it's would certainly appear that there is an alignment. Whether it was intended is another question entirely. But this is just one of many examples of alignments of sites over long distances. Seeing Tara framed by the ancient stones of Cairn U at Loughcrew in the cold dawn of Imbolc six months ago certainly was very fascinating to me. "This is hardly all coincidental," I said to myself. Indeed it might not be, but we may never know whether it was intended by the builders. All we can do now is watch and wonder.
The author atop Duma na nGiall watching the sunset over Loughcrew tonight. Picture: Finn Murphy.
37 years ago, in 1980, Martin Brennan, Jack Roberts and their team of researchers made several significant discoveries relating to the astronomical alignment of several ancient chambered cairns (passage-tombs) in the Boyne Valley region. One such discovery, made in early August of that year, was the apparent alignment of the passage of Cairn S at Carnbane East, Loughcrew. Sitting in the chamber of the (now roofless) cairn, Brennan and his team saw that the Lughnasadh cross-quarter sunset was visible through the passage.
Lughnasadh sunset shines down the passage of the ancient Cairn S at Loughcrew.
Tonight, for the first time in my 18 years of research and photography, I witnessed what Brennan’s people excitedly discovered back then, and it was spectacular, as you can see. There is a story behind this photograph. With my son Luke accompanying, I drove an hour from Drogheda to Loughcrew this evening with the express purpose of witnessing and photographing this alignment. However, when we got there, a massive cumulonimbus cloud was looming over the whole western horizon. After sitting in the car for a few minutes, we figured that it was moving, albeit slowly, towards us. The sun was hidden. It was clear that this cloud was giving out a lot of rain. So we decided to sit it out. We arrived at 8pm. We knew the sunset would occur at about 9.10pm or so.
We sat and waited. Another man who had arrived with camera gear got out of his car and they went up the hill. “A big mistake,” I thought to myself. I could see the rain wasn’t far away and that it was extremely heavy. Sure enough, by about 8.25pm or so it was raining very heavily. The problem was that the cloud was moving extremely slowly. With no let-up in sight, we considered leaving. But having spotted a small patch of blue behind the grey sheets of rain, I decided we’d wait. In the meantime, the gentleman who had gone up earlier returned, quite soaked. After a few minutes, he left in his car.
“If needs be, we can leg it up the hill as soon as there’s any let-up in the rain,” I said to Luke. We planned our departure. When the rain finally started to ease, we made a dash for it. It was 8.45pm. Surely this was an exercise in futility?
As we ran up the hill (and it was a struggle for me, I can tell you, with the heavy camera equipment on my back), I turned and the sun was appearing beneath the huge black shower cloud. “We might be lucky yet,” I said as we scrambled up that hill. The thing about Sliabh na Calliagh is that, when you want to get up it fast, it seems to take every bit of your energy and determination. By the time we hit the last ascent, the steepest part, I was breathless to the extent of being in a state of near-collapse. Luke took the camera bag for the last stretch. What a fantastic companion to have on this trip – a sprightly, nimble and energetic 15-year-old.
After getting in through the gate, we reached Cairn S. I dumped the tripod on the ground, and ordered Luke to put the camera bag down. It was still raining, but the sun was out. I needed to act quickly. We might only have a minute or two to get a photograph. “Which camera?” I thought to myself as I worked out which would work better with remote flash. I decided on the D3X and quickly got set up with the 14mm f2.8 prime lens. It turned out to be a good decision. The photo you see above was taken with this setup. As you can see, the enormous cumulonimbus cloud occupied a huge portion of the sky – but crucially, the sun was out, and just at the right moment! What a capture. What a journey. What a brilliant climax after such an uncertain wait.
A wider view of the Cairn S Lughnasadh alignment from outside the chamber.
I actually got plenty of time to take photos then – with both cameras, and a variety of lenses. But within a short time the sun went in behind some cloud and the magical moment had passed. Nonetheless, we had captured it, in all its fabulous glory. We were wet. We were cold. We were out of breath. But boy were we happy.
After that, we relaxed a bit. The almost-full moon was out. We got lots of other photos – of Cairn S, of Cairn T, of the Hag’s Chair, of Cairn U, and Cairn V. But for now, the magical, mystical shot of the sunset from the chamber of Cairn S is putting a big smile on my face. I feel like I’ve caught up with not just 37 years of history tonight, but over 5,000 years of it.
Because of its short passage and wide chamber, it is obvious that Cairn S will align with the sun for some time. I will have to make a return visit in a couple of weeks to see if it is still aligned.
In his 1983 book, The Stars and the Stones: Ancient Art and Astronomy in Ireland, Martin Brennan suggested that the passage of Cairn U, one of the smaller cairns on Slieve na Calliagh (known today as Carnbane East) at Loughcrew, was aligned on the November/February cross-quarter sunrises. One team of observers was situated in Cairn U on November 3rd 1980, which was five days before the correct date for Samhain cross-quarter on November 8th. Brennan implies, although falls short of explicitly stating, that Cairn U is aligned to the cross-quarter sunrises. Regrettably, no further observations were possible, due to weather (not altogether unsurprising due to the Irish climate!) until November 12th.(1)
The passage of Cairn U in the pre-dawn sky of February 3rd.
I was unaware of any photographic proof extent showing the sun aligning with the passage of Cairn U. Probably the best-known photographer of ancient megalithic sites and their alignments is Ken Williams of Shadows & Stone. In personal communications, Ken indicated to me that although he had been at Cairn U around the time of the cross-quarter sunrises, and although he had some photos, he hadn't been there on the exact day.
I set out from Drogheda at 6.25am with the intention of getting to Loughcrew (which can take an hour or so by road) and climbing up the hill to be ready for sunrise, which occurs at around 8.08am. With all the camera gear, the walk up the hill is quite laborious!
Cairn U looking down the passage from the end recess towards the southeastern sky.
With a red sky forming because of some cloud towards the southeast, it was clear that the sun would come up in the approximate direction to which the passage of Cairn U was pointing, with me positioned in the rear recess (photo above).
The sun was obscured by cloud for the first few minutes after the actual moment of sunrise. So I was unable to make direct observation at the moment the sun was rising above the horizon. However, what was immediately clear was that the sun's position was still somewhat to the south of where it needed to be for a direct alignment. I observed the sun's azimuthal position from the light that it was projecting on to the clouds. Crouched in the rear recess, I couldn't see the sun or its light. However, on leaning slightly into the left-hand recess, I could see the sun coming out from behind the clouds in alignment with the passage. This is shown in the photo below.
The sun appears from behind cloud in alignment with the passage of Cairn U (sort-of!)
It was a great thrill to see the sun emerging though. I suspect it will be maybe a week or so before the sun is rising directly in alignment to the rear of the end recess - but unfortunately this is just a rough guess and there is no empirical method to my guesstimate! Perhaps a return visit next week might be in order.
A closer view of the sun's appearance from the interior of Cairn U.
The alignment today was such that I had to lean towards the left-hand recess of Cairn U in order to see the sun through the passageway. Perhaps the cairn focuses on a range of sunrises, maybe lasting a couple of weeks. This is something that requires further observation.
Megalithic art on the side stone of the left-hand recess of Cairn U.
One very, very interesting thing which I did not realise until this morning is the fact that today's sunrise, as viewed from Cairn U, was coming up over the Hill of Tara in the far distance. I imagine that is not a coincidence. Neighbouring Cairn T faces the Hill of Slane (looking across Hill of Lloyd) for equinox sunrise. Some of the cairns on Carnbane West point to cairns on Carnbane East. I put the telephoto lens on the camera to zoom in for the shot of Tara from Cairn U below:
About 15 minutes after sunrise. The Hill of Tara is located at the clump of trees towards the left.
It's such a great pleasure to be able to observe these astronomical occurrences at prehistoric buildings. There are numinous qualities to such moments because they transcend temporal boundaries and take us back, in a way that is both spiritually and empirically connective, to a remote era when our early ancestors observed heavenly phenomena. We can only conjecture at a possible greater purpose behind such alignments, and inevitably such conjecture takes us into realms that are both scientific and spiritual. On the one hand, early people were marking out the distinct patterns of the sky, making the ancient passage-tombs of Ireland primordial sundials (and doubtlessly moondials too). But their construction was such that they are a statement, tacit or explicit, of permanence, of longevity, in a world where the cycles of nature spun all too fast, especially where humans themselves are concerned. In the Neolithic, a great many people would not live to see even one completion of what was known in later Irish as the Naoidheachda, meaning "the nineteenth" - the 19-year cycle of the moon which today is known as the Metonic Cycle. The best a neolithic cairn builder could hope for was to see two complete Metonic Cycles. There were no elders in the New Stone Age, certainly not in the sense that we have elders today. Spiritual elders, perhaps, but not aged octogenarians or centenarians. At 40, you were a wise elder of the Neolithic community. At 50, you might have been seen as a freak of nature.
Furthermore, the ancient passage-cairns weave a connective web suggestive of awareness or consciousness of a greater cosmos, in which the sun and astral bodies are not so much seen as things that are "out there", totally beyond reach or influence, but rather things with which humans and the animate world have a distinct interaction. The light and heat of the sun can be seen to directly influence growth and seasonal patterns in nature, in addition to the many migratory patterns which would have been observable in the vicinity of the Boyne and Slieve na Calliagh tombs in the Neolithic. The moon's distinct and powerful effect on the tides is something that Alexander Thom remarked might have been known since time immemorial.
The labour involved in creating cairns on hilltops must not be underestimated. Even a fit young person finds the climb to the summit of Slieve na Calliagh an exertive and physically demanding activity. Imagine repeating this exertion, with the additional burden of carrying a boulder, or several boulders. When one factors weather and the lack of any significant capable engineering or construction technology into the equation, the building of the cairns on the hills of Loughcrew seems a gargantuan task. These structures certainly deserve to be described as immense and monumental. As well as being prodigious feats of construction, they are monumental memorials to the humans who laboured hard to complete them. Their fastidious observations of discernible natural phenomena were ingeniously combined with an imaginative vista which opened towards realms that were supernatural, transcendental and otherworldy while retaining a physical connection to the telluric, sublunary sphere. At Loughcrew, this world and the next are seen to coalesce. Up there, on the hills of the hag, one gets a sense of detachment from the ordinary mortal dimension. Reaching out towards the sky above and the horizon beyond, the young humans who had just discovered agriculture and who were setting in place the foundations of civilisation, stepped out through the inter-dimensional threshold of the cairns into whatever realms of the spirit or imagination lay beyond.
There is yet at least one place on the earth where the ancient spirit dwells. When the fast-revolving clock of astronomical circuits ticks down on each of us at our own appointed time, we might aspire to those realms that were so anciently envisioned. Can we yet countenance the possibility that we will perhaps some day meet those who left their bones behind in the cairns of Loughcrew, out there, beyond that threshold?
This is the so-called Hag's Chair at Cairn T, Sliabh na Calliagh, Loughcrew. Although it is part of the kerb of the cairn, it is unlike any other kerb stone on any Irish passage-tomb. We know very little about it, except what myth and folklore offer by way of mysterious and vague explanation.
Amid all the more modern graffiti, some of the really ancient carvings can still be seen on the Hag's Chair.
The Cailleach (or hag/witch/crone/goddess) of Loughcrew is ubiquitous on these hills. The story of the cairns is the story of this ancient figure of mythical intrigue. The creation myth of Loughcrew (for that is how it can be best described) suggests that she built the cairns, somewhat haphazardly, by dropping stones from an apron of stones as she jumped from hill to hill. She is said to have come from the north, which is interesting, because towards the northern aspect we find the rounded mountain of Slieve Gullion in Armagh - another place associated with the Cailleach (who goes by different names) and has a passage-tomb on its top which has a passage that points towards Loughcrew for winter solstice sunset.
"This is a very old lady whose shade still haunts the lake and carn of Slieve Guillion in the county of Armagh. Her name was Evlin, and it would appear from some legends about her that she was of De Danannite origin.... Does her name, Eibhlín bheurtha inghin Thuilinn, appear in the genealogies of the Tuatha De Dananns?"(1)
Cairn T at Loughcrew, also known as The Hag's Cairn.
Some sources suggest that the ancient Cailleach might have been the Queen Tailte(2), in whose honour the Tailteann Games were held at nearby Teltown. As the Cailleach Bhéartha, she is the one who brought the cairns into existence, but not untypical of such creation myths, she is killed in the effort:
There are three hills about a mile asunder in this parish, having three heaps (carns) of stones on their summits, with which the following wild legend is connected. A famous old Hag of antiquity called Cailleach Bhéartha (Calliagh Vera) came one time from the north to perform a magical feat in this neighbourhood by which she was to obtain great power if she succeeded. She took an Apron-full of stones and dropped a carn on Carnbane; from this she jumped to the summit of Slieve Nacally a mile distant and dropped a second carn there; from this hill she made a second jump and dropped a carn on another hill about a mile distant. If she could make another leap and drop the fourth carn it appears that the magical feat would be accomplished, but in giving the jump she slipped and fell in the townland of Patrickstown in the parish of Diamor, where she broke her neck. Here she was buried and her grave was to be seen not many years ago in a field called Cul a' Mhóta about 200 perches to the East of the moat in that Townland, but it is now destroyed.(3)
I speculate here that the second part of her name, Bhéartha/Vera possibly derives from the Irish word bert or beirt, meaning "burden, load, bundle".(4)
It's interesting that she has several different names - Cailleach Bhéartha (Cally Vera), Evlin (Eibhlín), Garvoge and even Tailte. The hills also go by different names. Carnbane (carn bán) is the one we know today as Carnbane West. In one version, it is called Carnmore (from carn mór, the big cairn). Indeed, the largest cairn in the whole Loughcrew complex, Cairn D, is on Carnbane West. Carrigbrack, which does not feature in some versions of the creation myth, is from carraig (stone) and breac (speckled), thus "speckled rock", but is also known as Sliabh Rua (Red Mountain), for which there is a very obvious and fascinating astronomical reason connected with local alignments. Sliabh na Calliagh (also anglicised as Slieve Nacally) is, apparently, also known as Carnbeg (carn beag, the small carn). Although because there is a middle hill called Loar, one wonders if Loar was Carrigbrack or Carnbane East, possibly making Patrickstown Hill the Carnbeg of the variant. More research needed here I think!
Sliabh na Calliagh, crowned by the Hag's Cairn, in the dawn sky, viewed from Carnbane.
Wont as I am to engage in speculation, I have often wondered if the story of the old hag dropping stones as she leaped from hill to hill is not in fact related to the movements of the sun, moon and the stars somehow. We know that several cairns point to other cairns (Cairn L points to the cairn on Carrigbrack, for instance; Cairn I points to Cairn T, etc). Is the cailleach the moon? We know from research into the Boyne Valley monuments that Venus (the Morning Star) was known as caillichín na mochóirighe, meaning "early-rising little hag"(5). It is tempting indeed to view the moon, with its darker areas, as an apron or bag full of stones. As she drops the stones, the moon becomes smaller, until it fades to a slender crescent into the growing light of morning, before eventually disappearing (in the east) as the dawn comes.
It is possible also that the cairns might mark out various important lunar risings and settings which mark out its course through the sky during the 18.6-year rotation of its nodes. Observation of this cycle leads to the observation of lunar standstills and the prediction of lunar eclipses. Martin Brennan and his team of researchers (including Jack Roberts) made several important discoveries at Loughcrew in the 1980s, showing certain astronomical alignments. They made several observations of lunar events. It would be nice if this work was followed up. In the fullness of time, a greater story about the astronomical complexity of Loughcrew might emerge. And, perhaps, a "solution" that cracks the meaning of the myth of the Cally Vera.
Until then, we can only suggest that some day this ancient queen might return, and claim her throne once more.
References (1) Conwell, Eugene, On Ancient Sepulchral Cairns on the Loughcrew Hills, Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy Vol. 9, p.357. (2) For instance, http://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/5070784/5063151/5095468 (3) From John O'Donovan's Ordnance Survey Letters (Meath). (4) Dil.ie (5) Murphy & Moore (2006), Island of the Setting Sun, p.167.
In case you are not a follower of Mythical Ireland on Facebook, you might be interested to know that I did a live broadcast from Carnbane West at Loughcrew around Samhain, where the light of the rising sun cast its beams into the chamber of Cairn L. Above is a video of that live broadcast.
The hill at Loughcrew known as Carrigbrack might be the least famous of the four hills* upon which the Cailleach of ancient times was said to have built a scattering of cairns. Today, it has the remnants of just one passage-tomb on its top, and is somewhat forlorn. However, it has another name - Sliabh Rua - meaning "red mountain". Following a weekend of observations on the hills of Loughcrew, it's now really clear why it had that name.
Samhain sunrise over Sliabh Rua viewed from Cairn L on Carnbane West.
When the sun rises at dawn on the ancient festival known as Samhain, the halfway point in days between autumn equinox and winter solstice, the sun rises out of the breast of Sliabh Rua and immediately its light shines into the chamber of Cairn L on Carnbane West. Its light dramatically strikes a bright, slender limestone pillar in the chamber. Standing outside the cairn, looking at the dawn sky, one cannot help but look and see Carnbane East (topped by Cairn T) and Sliabh Rua (topped by the remains of an old cairn) as the breasts of the hag.
This evening, I went back to Loughcrew. This time, I went to Slieve na Calliagh (Carnbane East) to see if I could determine where the sun goes down on Samhain as viewed from the Hag's Cairn (Cairn T). To my delight, it was a beautiful evening and the sun and sky put on a dazzling show for my camera. And as it sank down towards the horizon, I could see that the sun was setting over Sliabh Rua/Carrigbrack. It was easy to see from the resulting light show how that hill might have got its name - red mountain.
Samhain sunset over Sliabh Rua viewed from Slieve na Calliagh near Cairn T.
The higher elevation of Slieve na Calliagh means that one is looking "down" at Sliabh Rua for the sunset, whereas because Carnbane West and Carrigbrack/Sliabh Rua have the same elevation, one is simply looking horizontally at the sunrise. (Cairn L is at 236m above sea level; the cairn on Sliabh Rua is 237m and Cairn T on Slieve na Calliagh is 258m above sea level).
The sun sinks behind Carrigbrack viewed from Slieve na Calliagh.
Just to reiterate - at dawn on Samhain, the sun rises out of Red Mountain when one is situated at Cairn L, which is one of the largest cairns in the whole complex, and which has a chamber that faces towards Carrigbrack. At dusk, the sun sinks into Red Mountain when one is situated at Cairn T, also one of the largest cairns, known as the Hag's Cairn.
I've put together a simple map to show the alignments. It's based on imagery from Bing Maps, which has much clearer views of the Loughcrew landscape than Google Maps.
One of the fascinating things about the Samhain alignments is that the hag in other parts of Ireland is sometimes characterised as the Hag of Winter. The November cross-quarter date appears to have been important in pre-Christian times, although there is some debate about its true antiquity, and whether it was considered important in the Neolithic. Samhain was said to have marked the beginning of winter, or the beginning of the "dark half" of the year (the bright half beginning at Bealtaine in early May). Samhain was considered the principal festival in the ancient calendar.
Moreover, the visual aspect of the alignment system at Loughcrew leaves one in little doubt that the placement of cairns was set out with deliberate alignment in mind. With good weather for both Saturday's sunrise observation and this evening's sunset, I can certainly say that both events are very dramatic, and awe-inspiring. As stated in Saturday's blog post, the view from Cairn L towards Slieve na Calliagh and Carrigbrack certainly presents the impression of recumbent female breasts. This is a feature noted in Sligo, where the Ballygawley Mountains present the form of a recumbent pregnant female.(1)
A Samhain pre-dawn view of the breasts of the Cailleach from Cairn L on Carnbane West.
It's worth noting too that the hill over which the sun rises on winter solstice when it shines into Newgrange in the Brú na Bóinne complex is also called Red Mountain.
*The four hills of Loughcrew are Carnbane (better known today as Carnbane West), Carrigbrack (Sliabh Rua), Slieve na Calliagh (better known today as Carnbane East) and Patrickstown Hill (the ancient name of which has been lost). In some versions of the creation myth, the Cailleach is said to have jumped on three hills, dropping stones from her apron, and in these versions it would appear Sliabh Rua is omitted. It's not clear why this is. In an old poem, in which the Cailleach is called the Garvoge, the hills are called Carnmore, Loar and Carnbeg.
I've created maps of the cairns at Sliabh na Caillighe/Loughcrew, using Bing Maps. The cairns are believed to be older than Newgrange, dating possibly to 3500BC, and were given letter designations by Eugene Conwell, who excavated some of them in the 1860s. The hill known as Carnbane West today was, according to local folklore, known previously simply as Carnbane (from carn bán, the "white cairn"). The hill labelled Carnbane East today was known in the past as Sliabh na Caillighe, the Mountain of the Hag.
The best known of the cairns are Cairn T, called the Hag's Cairn, which is aligned towards sunrise on the equinoxes, and Cairn L on Carnbane, which is aligned towards sunrise at Samhain (November) and Imbolc (February).
For more on the Samhain alignment of Cairn L, see this page.
For more on the equinox alignment of Cairn T, see this page.
Don't forget to watch the video below, in which I give a quick overview of the hills of Loughcrew using Google Earth. This will give you a sense of where the various cairns are located and which are considered the principal peaks. It will also give you a good idea of the location of the cairns in relation to the Brú na Bóinne complex (Newgrange, Knowth and Dowth):
I was extremely blessed to have been present at Cairn L on Carnbane West at Loughcrew this morning to witness a gloriously beautiful Samhain sunrise and the illumination of the chamber of this ancient cairn.
I hadn't been to Cairn L in a good few years, and to go there in the pre-dawn twilight, with Orion and Sirius looming above the ancient cairns was really something very special. But what was to follow was one of the highlights of many years of being present at ancient and sacred sites. The above video captures the essence of it, but of course nothing beats being there in person. At 7.44am, the sun appeared above the remains of a cairn on the summit of one of the Loughcrew Hills - known as Carrickbrack (from Irish carraig breac, meaning "speckled rock"), and also known as Sliabh Ruadh (Red Hill). One wonders just how ancient some of these place names really are.
Sunlight enters the passage of Cairn L and illuminates the limestone pillar in the chamber.
As the sun appeared, its light immediately streamed into the passage and chamber of Cairn L, where it illuminated a limestone pillar in the chamber - a feature that is unique to Cairn L and not found in other ancient cairns with astronomical alignments.
The stone pillar in the chamber is lit up by the sun at dawn on Samhain and Imbolc.
Martin Brennan and Jack Roberts and their team discovered this alignment in the early 1980s. It is one of many apparent alignments at Loughcrew. The most famous is the equinox alignment of Cairn T (the Hag's Cairn). Although I had been to Cairn L a couple of times, I had never been there at sunrise, and certainly not at Samhain! It was an immense pleasure, and a moment of pure joy and rapture to see the beautiful warm sunlight illuminating the interior of the cairn.
The significance of this event is that Samhain was a very important pre-Christian festival, possibly having its origins in prehistory. It was considered the beginning of winter, and as a so-called "cross-quarter" day, it marks the halfway point, measured in days, between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice. But unlike Newgrange, where the sun shines into its chamber around winter solstice, Cairn L will be illuminated twice - once in early November and again in early February, for the ancient festival of Imbolc, or the February cross-quarter day.
The cairns at Loughcrew were said to have been dropped there by an ancient Cailleach or Garvoge.
In local folklore, it is said that a hag (Cailleach) carrying an apron full of stones created the cairns as she jumped from hill to hill, dropping piles of stones as she did so. Another tale says the hills are sacred to the Garvoge, a "monster woman", who formerly lived here. The following is an old verse, sometimes attributed to Jonathan Swift, about Garvoge and Loughcrew:
Determined now her tomb to build, Her ample skirt with stones she filled, And dropped a heap on Carnmore, Then stepped one thousand yards, to Loar, And dropped another goodly heap; And then with one prodigious leap Gained Carnbeg, and on its height, displayed the wonders of her might. And when she approached death's awful doom, Her chair was placed within the womb Of hills whose tops with heather bloom.(1)
The moment the sun rose from behind the summit of Carrickbrack.
One cannot help, while looking out from Cairn L towards the other hills (Carnbane East, which was formerly better known as Sliabh na Caillighe; and Carrickbrack), both of which are topped with cairns, of the Paps of Anu or the Paps of Morrigan, and to see in the landscape the earth goddess herself. Perhaps, if one allows a little imagination, one can think of the breasts and the belly of that great woman, so venerated in ancient Ireland, as the earth itself, topped with these cairns that are attributed to her as miraculous works. Ancient though she may be, the Cailleach will never be forgotten at Loughcrew, because the Cailleach IS Loughcrew.
References: (1) Conwell, Eugene Alfred, On Ancient Sepulchral Cairns on the Loughcrew Hills, Proceedings of the Roal Irish Academy (1836-1869), Vol. 9 (1864-1866), p. 358.
Special thanks to Lar Dooley and Ken Williams whose company was greatly appreciated. And to the landowner for allowing us access.
When you climb Sliabh na Caillighe (the hill known today as Carnbane East, Loughcrew), it's difficult not to think of what motives and forces inspired a community of people in the far distant past to create great monuments of stone on the peaks of these hills.
Sunset over Carrickbrack and Carnbane West viewed from Sliabh na Caillighe, Loughcrew.
How did they do it? Why did they do it? How did they stay warm up here, on autumnal days like today, when the wind is blowing and bringing water to the eyes? How many people laboured here, in honour of what gods, and at what cost to their physical and spiritual beings? You wonder about what could have driven them to such fabulous exploits, to create these permanent memorials of stone in honour of ideals and aims that we can only feign to understand.
Ambient light streams into the chamber of Cairn T.
But, in the fading light of day, you catch sight of a marvellous vision. The clouds and the sun create a powerful drama, a play on the stage of the western horizon, causing sudden and thrilling changes in colour and light that bring a sense of rapture. You are witness to another dazzling moment in nature's constant dance.
The haze causes the landscape to fade into ever-dissipating layers of mistiness, and the scattered beams of the sun create the impression of a golden opening to something wondrous beyond the cairn-topped hills. Perhaps this is as close as you can get to actually seeing Tír na nÓg. The eye beholds; the mind tinkers with possibilities; and the heart is greatly warmed by the glory of the scene.
And here, at this sanctified spot where the ancestors gathered in the ancient yesterday, you feel like you have made a connection with them, across time and space and landscape. You grasp with the notion of an otherworld in the here and now, one that transcends time and place, so that you can call out to them and they will answer.
And you wish and hope that the landscape will stay like this forever. Forever ancient.
The evening sun over Cairn T (the Hag's Cairn) at Loughcrew.
Many of you have probably heard the story of the Cailleach (hag or witch) of Loughcrew. The hills of Loughcrew are scattered with the remnants of a vast cluster of megalithic monuments that are thought to be up to 5,500 years old. There are four hills - all containing monuments, mostly megalithic cairns and passage-tombs. These are known today as Carnbane West, Carrickbrack, Carnbane East and Patrickstown Hill. The hills, three of them at least, were collectively known in the 19th century as 'The Witches Hops', and in the 17th as 'the Calliagh Steppes'. In some versions, Carrickbrack is omitted, and in the 15th century the remaining three were referred to as Trí Choiscéim na Caillighe, the three footsteps of the hag.
Climbing Carnbane East to see Cairn T, with (in the left background) Carrickbrack and Carnbane West.
There is an old poem told about the Cailleach of Loughcrew, that goes like this:
I am the Chailleach Beara
Many wonders have I seen
I have seen Carn Bawn a lake,
though tis now a mountain green. (1)
The story about the Cailleach tells how she came from the north and she tried to jump from hill to hill, some say from the Carnbane (the westernmost hill) to Patrickstown (the easternmost), alighting on the other hills in between. If she could succeed in this magical feat she would obtain great power. She was carrying an apron full of stones. As she jumped from hill to hill, she dropped some stones from her apron, forming the cairns on each of the peaks. When she reached Patrickstown (which is undoubtedly a Christian name, and perhaps we might some day learn what its original name was) she fell and broke her neck. According to Jean McMann, in her lovely little book Loughcrew - The Cairns - A Guide, a pile of stones at the bottom of the eastern slope of Patrickstown Hill was known until recently as the cailleach's grave.
In earlier times the hill we know today as Carnbane West was known just as the Carnbane (Carn Bán, the white cairn or the white heap of stones). The hill known today as Carnbane East was, it seems, known as Sliabh na Caillaigh, the mountain or hill of the hag/witch.
Cairn T on Carnbane East, formerly known as the Hag's Carn and Sliabh na Caillaigh.
There is no doubt in my mind that the story of the Cailleach of Loughcrew contains essences of an ancient creation or origin myth. This great woman, whose status has been reduced to an old crone, was probably a goddess of the land who was greatly venerated in ancient times. McMann says of her:
'This cailleach is famous in Irish folklore. Other storytellers have described her as a superhuman woman who could harvest a field faster than any man, a crone lamenting her youth, a banshee announcing a death, or a Christian nun. She is best known as Cailleach Bhéarra, but has been called by many other names, including not only Waura but Beri, Buí and Vera ... and may be a later version of the ancient pagan sovereignty queens whose consent was required for kings to rule. Some scholars think she represented wild nature, as a prehistoric earth goddess'.
Michael Dames, writing in 'Ireland, A Sacred Journey', suggests that "the apron is the divine womb, translated into the language of dress".
In this context, we can see the apron as a womb of creation, and perhaps, in the tradition of Marija Gimbutas, we can think of the cairns not so much as tombs, but more like wombs. As a creation or origin myth, the story of the Cailleach of Loughcrew shares some similarities with another origin myth, that which tells about how the River Boyne was formed. In that story, Bóinn approaches Nechtain's Well, something which is forbidden for a woman. The well gushes forth into a fountain, carrying Bóinn along as it creates the River Boyne. Bóinn is mutilated by the waters - she loses an eye, and her arm and leg are broken. Eventually, she is washed out to sea, where she is drowned. Her lapdog, Dabilla, is transformed into the Rockabill islands. In both cases, a female deity is credited with an act of creation, and in both cases at the end of the act of creation the women are killed.
But there is more to the story of the Cailleach of Loughcrew than meets the eye. I'm inclined to think that the imagery of a woman jumping from hill to hill forming cairns is, perhaps, some memory of an ancient astronomical system in which the sun and moon were seen to rise up out of various hills and cairns when viewed from other parts of the complex, and conversely they were seen to "set into" hills and cairns from other vantage points. I'm inspired in this aspect by the Cailleach na Mointeach, the "Old Woman of the Moors" at the Callanish stones in Scotland. The local people there refer to her as the "sleeping beauty" and once every 18.6 years, the moon at its major standstill southern extreme rises from some part of this sleeping beauty and sets again at the bottom of Mount Clisham. (2)
Until 1980, little was known about any astronomical aspect of the Loughcrew cairns. But in that year, Martin Brennan and Jack Roberts discovered the equinox alignment of Cairn T, during which the light of the rising sun on the equinoxes shines into Cairn T (photographed on left) and illuminates what Brennan described as "solar emblems" on the stone at the rear of the chamber. They also discovered that the chamber of Cairn L appeared to be aligned towards the November and February cross-quarter sunrises, and several other small cairns appeared to have alignments towards solar events. In some cases, the passage of a cairn is pointing towards another cairn. For instance, from the chamber of Cairn I on Carnbane West, the sun appears to rise over Cairn T on Carnbane East at the beginning of September.
The imagery of a woman, or goddess, jumping from hill to hill is, I think, possibly symbolic of a system of alignments from various parts of the megalithic complex, focusing on sunrises and moonrises, and also sunsets and moonsets. In the fullness of time, I think an even more comprehensive study of the alignments of Loughcrew will reveal an interest in the extreme lunar declinations, the minor and major standstills of the moon. At Dowth, for instance, my own studies of the alignments of its two known passageways indicates that the setting moon at both its major and minor southern setting positions might have been the primary, or even shared, targets of the southern and northern chambers, while the setting sun at winter solstice (southern chamber) and November/February cross-quarter days (northern chamber) were also targets. Perhaps the death of the Cailleach is allegorical, referring to the lunar extreme, and perhaps the "death" of one 18.6-year cycle and the beginning of the next one? The fact that she was said to have "come from the north is also interesting, because of the fact that the maximum northern rising and setting extremes of the standstill moon are located in the far northeast and northwest.
Until a more comprehensive study of possible lunar alignments at Loughcrew can be undertaken (and I must admit I would be very happy to be involved!) we can only reflect on the possibilities. We know that there are certainly solar alignments. We can't be sure that these alignments were an intended principal function of the monuments, but they constitute a fascinating and indeed almost mystical aspect of these ancient structures. To be lucky enough to have been witness to some of these alignments makes me feel an extraordinary connection with the builders.
We cannot know how far back the story of the Cailleach of Loughcrew goes. Certainly as Jean McMann acknowledges, "People have probably been telling stories about the Loughcrew hills for more than five thousand years".
Is it too bold a step, to wild a conjecture, to suggest that the story of the Witches Hops or the Cailleach's Steps is in fact some remnant of a very ancient myth, one which goes right back to the time when these cairns were constructed?
The illumination of solar emblems by equinox sunrise at Cairn T.
Addendum - watching the moon
Of interest to our discussion about lunar standstills at Loughcrew is the fact that a society carefully observing and recording the moon's cycles would become aware of several things. The number of sidereal months (the time it takes the moon to complete a circuit of the sky, ie from a particular place on the Zodiac back to the same place again) and synodic months (a particular phase back to same phase, eg full moon back to full moon) does not fit neatly into a solar year. 12 synodic months is 11 days short of a 365-day solar year. In fact, the number of lunations only fits the solar year after 254 sideral months, or 235 sidereal months, which is equal to 19 years. This 19-year cycle is known today as the Metonic Cycle. See this page for a further discussion of the Metonics.
Observers watching the Metonic Cycle would also naturally become aware of the rotation of the moon's nodes, and 18.6-year cycle during which the point where the moon's path crosses the sun's path (the moon's path is inclined to the ecliptic by 5.15 degrees, so its path intersects the sun's path at two points in the sky each month) appears to complete a full circuit of the sky. As this happens, the moon appears, at certain times during this 18.6-year cycle, to go through maximum and minimum extremes, which are observable by the moon's rising and setting places relative to the sun's solstice positions. When the moon's node is located exactly on the sun's solstice positions, there is a likelihood of eclipses occurring at the time of the solstices. Conversely, when the moon's nodes are located exactly on the sun's equinox points, not only is there a likelihood of eclipses at the time of equinox, but the moon's path will be at its maximum separation from the ecliptic at the sun's solstice positions. If the moon's declination is at that time within the range of the sun's path, we get what is termed the "minor standstill", while if its declination is outside of the sun's range, we get the major standstill.
It is possible the builders of Cairn T at Loughcrew were not exclusively focused on the equinox sunrises, but also on observing the moon, and in particular at those times when its node was crossing the ecliptic at the sun's equinox points. If this is the case, as we can merely speculate, then we can envisage observers within the rear recess of Cairn T watching for the rising moon at such times. The natural extension of this argument is that if the moon is visible through the aperture of Cairn T and is in the same position in the sky as the equinox sun*, then seven days later (i.e. one-quarter of a circuit around the sky), the moon will be at its major standstill rising position (provided it is on its ascending node when visible within Cairn T) or at its minor standstill rising position if it is on a descending node. In other words, the Hag's Cairn might have been used to indicate the times of the extremes of the moon, when an 18.6-year cycle was ending (the death of the hag?) and a new one was beginning.
(* Around the time the cairns were built. the spring equinox sun was positioned in the constellation we know today as Taurus, the bull, while autumn equinox sun was positioned in Scorpius.)
The more insignificant modern man becomes - on his shrinking earth, hardly a cosmic speck - the more arrogant he is. He feels far less humility toward the ever-vaster unknown than his forefathers did toward what was thought to be known in a flat, God-ruled, man-centred universe. Science does not seem to touch man's emotions at all: he loses his religious awe and acquires in its place only a boastful complacency about himself. His intelligence grows, but not his genius. - Philip Freund.
The photo shows a symbol carved into the stone at the very rear of the chamber of Cairn T, Loughcrew, Ireland. It was likely carved there more than 5,000 years ago, by a society of people for whom, I believe, science and spirituality were not considered as separate things. Indeed, I believe our ancient ancestors expressed their genius by grafting huge edifices in stone, lasting memorials to a time in the story of humanity when people had what Fruend refers to as "inventive mind, poetic aspiration, and awe-filled heart" - and yet they watched and measured the movements of the sun, moon and stars. They were, in my opinion, equally adherents to empiricism, metaphysics, philosophy and mysticism. They were farmers, engineers and astronomers, but they were most likely also poets, diviners and shamans, as suggested in mythology. They were both scientists and mystics.
I believe that they saw themselves as one with a cosmos that was vast beyond comprehension. They were neither athiest nor agnostic - but held a deep hope and belief in the existence of an afterlife. The great mounds of the New Stone Age are the best physical exemplifications of this belief. At the end of life, the burnt or unburnt fragments of the individual were lovingly and delicately placed in the chambers of these sacred spaces, from which, it could be implied from the construction and alignment of these monuments towards the rising and setting places of the heavenly bodies, the soul of the deceased was magically transported to the next realm.
The people who built the temples of stone that are Cairn T and its sisters on the ancient hills of Loughcrew, and indeed the vast monuments of the Boyne, which mark a zenith of that society, did so, I believe, in unity and zeal towards a shared belief. Joseph Campbell said that the "awakening of awe, that awakening of zeal" is what pulls people together.
In relation to the great cathedrals of Europe, Campbell said "you mustn't think of slave drivers; that isn't what built the cathedrals. It was a community seizure, a mythic zeal."
The same is probably true for the mound builders.
So what happened to the culture that dedicated itself to fervently building these innumerable mounds and cairns across ancient Ireland?
In the words of Campbell, "the zeal disappeared".
In my opinion - and it is just an opinion - our sense of the cosmic, and the awesome, and the everlasting, and the transcendental, became diminished when we became fascinated with the material, and the corporeal, the earthly, the ephemeral. When bronze arrived, and later iron, we perceived that we need not dream of otherworlds to give us power. We could fashion gleaming possessions - decorative and combative - and this gave us a sense of our own authority over nature. We could transform the murky raw materials of the earth magically into jewellery and weapons. We became alchemists, magicians. We no longer needed to divine our place in the cosmos and in the frantic and at times incongruous schemes of life. We could, we believed, impose our own will upon it. Spirit moved aside a little - or was pushed - and ego took centre stage. This conflict of spirit and ego is perhaps best epitomised in the battle between the Tuatha Dé Danann - the owners of the sídhe/mounds - and the Milesians, who came from Spain to take Ireland from them, driven by mixture of revenge and a jealous longing for a country that they beheld as being so beautiful it looked like the clouds of heaven.
Instead of the Dé Danann Elcmar, who stood on top of Newgrange at Samhain with a fork of white hazel, the archetypal mystic - a diviner, a druidic wise man - we became the Milesian Eremon, who wished to take ancient Tara and impose the domination of a new force upon the land. The symbol of that imposition would become the Lia Fáil - the phallic stone of kingship that would scream when the rightful king placed his foot upon it. And thus at Tara even today it is possible to discern the transformation that occurred after this battle between spirit and ego. The old ways are represented by Duma na nGiall - the Mound of the Hostages that rises out of the earth like a pregnant belly, the mother who is at once part of both world and cosmos. The new ways are represented by the Lia Fáil, the phallic stone placed there in an act of imposition, declaration, and perhaps banishment. We shouldn't be surprised to think that the Neolithic culture was a matriarchal one - its stone chambers are somewhat uterine in design - although we get the distinct sense of a polytheistic society when we take account of mythology which may or may not date to that remote time. But the cultures that followed - in the Bronze Age and Iron Age - created enclosures and ramparts encircling the sacred hill that I believe attempted to make a statement that - instead of considering the monuments to be an extension of the earth, saw the earth as being enclosed within a new system of ownership and dominance. We were no longer an emergence from cosmos. We were an imposition upon it.
The Lia Fáil - the phallus - is another icon of imposition, and the patriarchal nature of that imposition. We planted it there as a symbol of our wish to claim ownership, dominance and control over the land. We did similarly when we planted a flag on the moon. We went there at considerable expense in the greatest single achievement of our era, but we did so as much as as an act of imposition and ownership as we did as an act of scientific exploration or altruistic humanity. We want to own the moon.
Author and jewellery maker Jack Roberts, who is well known as being the co-discoverer of the equinox alignment of Cairn T, Loughcrew, with Martin Brennan, has just published a new book about stone circles. It's called 'The Sun Circles of Ancient Ireland' and is available in all good bookshops now. In this interview with Anthony Murphy of Mythical Ireland, Jack speaks about how he came to be interested in stone monuments and stone circles in particular. He also speaks candidly about his friendship with Martin Brennan, who he describes as his "guru" and "teacher", and about the controversy between Brennan and archaeologists that led to Brennan fleeing Ireland and not returning for a quarter of a century.
Roberts was also a good friend of John Michell. He lives in Sligo, but has spent 30 years on and off studying the stone circles of the south of Ireland. His new book represents the fruits of that labour.
In 2009, after having thought about it for a long time, I decided to try to get Martin Brennan back to Ireland. The author of 'The Boyne Valley Vision' and 'The Stones of Time', who had made major discoveries about Neolithic astronomy, had left Ireland under a cloud in the mid 1980s and had never returned. With tremendous effort, and with considerable help from some of his friends, the whole thing came together as the 'Boyne Valley Revision' conference, at which he was due to be the star attraction. The event was held at the Newgrange Lodge on the day before winter solstice. Martin was very grateful at being brought back to Ireland, and indeed he met many old friends, and made lots of new ones too. It's the only time he's been back in a quarter of a century.
I've decided to put his whole talk online. I think it will serve as a valuable historical record, and it also gives some insights into some of the work he is doing in Mexico, where he has been living for a number of years now. His visit brought a lot of healing, and some of the acrimony between the Brennan 'camp' and the archaeologists was consigned to history.
Brennan was one of a number of people who inspired me when I began a wonderful adventure in the Boyne Valley with Richard Moore in 1999, which culminated eight years later with the publication of 'Island of the Setting Sun'. It was a great pleasure not only to meet him, but to spend time with him, and to become his friend. We don't, of course, agree on everything that each of us has written, but we have a common bond through our researches and writings that made us instant friends.
I will never forget the history few days when he came back to the Boyne Valley. Also speaking that day were Jack Roberts, Toby Hall, Sig Lonegren and Chris Bruno, all good friends of Martin's. Indeed Jack Roberts was with Brennan when they discovered the Dowth South solstice alignment and the penetration of dawn's glorious light into the chamber of Cairn T at Loughcrew on the equinox.
I hope that you enjoy Martin's talk. He is a wonderful speaker. As an artist, he does all of his own drawings and illustrations, which are superb. He manages to make very interesting links between ancient Mexican culture and the Boyne monuments which is fascinating.
