Eschewing the little people, one archaeologist dismissed folklore about Newgrange, folklore that later proved true

The earliest antiquarians who visited, documented, sketched and spoke about Newgrange sometimes get a hard time from the modern academic establishment. The writings of Lhwyd and Molyneux and Pownall and Vallancey are all criticised for one reason or another (poor Charles Vallancey is largely ridiculed, perhaps because he referred to Newgrange as a Mithraic temple). All of the early antiquarian accounts of the monument are valuable for one reason or another. Some of them have captured aspects of the monument that have disappeared since they wrote. Without the tools and techniques of modern archaeology, all of them were poking around in the dark, so to speak. They couldn't have known the true age of Newgrange,  nor could they have appreciated the skills of the artists and builders who created it, those whom they all too often referred to as barbarous.

Newgrange in its pre-excavation days.

The New Grange book.

However, Dr. Glyn Daniel, lecturer in archaeology at Cambridge University and editor of the academic journal Antiquity, perhaps should have known better. In 1964, Daniel's book 'New Grange and the Bend of the Boyne' was published by Thames & Hudson. It had been a collaborative effort with University College Cork professor of archaeology, Sean P. Ó Ríordáin. Sadly, Ó Ríordáin had passed away in 1957 in his early fifties, when the pair were only half way through completion of the book. Daniel was the General Editor of the 'Ancient Peoples and Places' series of books, under which the New Grange title was published. It was to become the largest single study of the Newgrange monument since George Coffey's 1912 book, and would be the last before Professor Michael J. O'Kelly's excavations at Newgrange revealed so many of its secrets.

One of the shortcomings of the Daniel/Ó Ríordáin book is that it fails to deal in any substantial terms with the mythical history of the Newgrange monument or indeed its counterparts in the Bend of the Boyne. Except for one passage in which he relates that New Grange might be an English corruption of An Uamh Greine (the cave of Grainne), Daniel does not discuss the ancient names of Newgrange, or its import in the early texts, as O'Kelly later did in his own work on Newgrange. Failing to acknowledge the earlier Irish names of Newgrange, and its mythology and associated stories, Daniel falls into a trap – he assumes the folklore about the site to be utter fantasy, and dismisses it as such:

"It is natural that impressive monuments like New Grange and Stonehenge should be visited a great deal by the general public and should themselves have attracted a folklore based on imagination, half-forgotten history, unappreciated archaeology and the sort of nonsense that luxuriates in the lunatic fringes of serious archaeology."(1)

And in that foregoing paragraph, Daniel was just setting himself up for a fall.

"The visitor to New Grange and Dowth will not be surprised to be told that these monuments were built by and were the homes of 'the little people' or to be asked their connection with the Druids."

One should always be careful about dismissing the fairy folk – even if one is a leading archaeologist and "expert" of the times!

But the following is perhaps indicative of the perhaps excessively arrogant attitude of Daniel in dealing with a monument such as Newgrange and in his rush to dismiss the folklore, he dismissed also notions about the site that would later transpire to be based in truth:

The entrance kerb stone at Newgrange (K1).

"A coloured calendar current in Ireland in 1960 had in it a good photograph of the decorated stone at the entrance to New Grange; this was accompanied by an account which needs quoting almost in toto as an example of the jumble of nonsense and wishful thinking indulged in by those who prefer the pleasures of the irrational and the joys of unreason to the hard thinking that archaeology demands.'The entrance in the east was originally triangular,' says this description, 'but is now changed for easy entrance, formerly it was necessary to crawl in and progress was retarded by interference, stones compelling the neophyte to stoop and stumble. The rays of the rising sun at certain times of the year penetrate the opening and rest on a remarkable triple spiral carving in the central chamber. Like the Great Pyramid of Gizeh in Egypt the New Grange Temple was originally covered with a layer of white quartz and was a brilliant object of Light for a considerable distance. Nuda, first king of Tuatha de Danann in Ireland, and his Master Magician, are said to have officiated here in the very, very old days. Artemidoros the Ephesian stated: "To Sacred Ierne of the Hibernians men go to learn more of the Mysteries of Samothrace."'

Two very important statements in this 1960 calendar demonstrate that there were enduring traditions about Newgrange that were fascinating and even compelling (and certainly worthy of at least some investigation) – one that the sun shone into the chamber during the year and the other that it was once covered with white quartz. Understandably, Daniel could not have known about the existence of quartz, given that the O'Kelly excavations at Newgrange had just begun when the Daniel/Ó Ríordáin book was published, but there was at least one possible reference to this feature in mythology – the "white-topped brugh" was said to have been "brilliant to approach".(2) If he had been a bit more familiar with some of the mythology of Newgrange, he might not have been so quick to shrug it off.

But Daniel certainly should not have been so dismissive in relation to the solar alignment – especially as it had been previously suggested by the likes of Solar Physics Observatory director Sir Norman Lockyer in 1909, and W.Y. Evans-Wentz in The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries in 1911.(3)

Within three years or so of the publication of the Daniel/Ó Ríordáin book, Professor Michael O'Kelly would stand in the chamber of Newgrange and become the first person in the modern era (and perhaps since the Bronze Age) to witness the winter solstice sunlight streaming into its inner chamber, illuminating (by reflected light) the triskele or triple spiral in the chamber. During his excavations at the famous monument, O'Kelly would uncover a significant layer of quartz beneath the cairn spill material – quartz that he would later demonstrate through repeated experiment that actually fronted the monument. In other words, at the very least Newgrange had a white quartz facade, and it is not such a huge leap of imagination to envision the possibility that the cairn was once covered with this bright stone.

The Newgrange triple spiral (triskele) in the chamber

One wonders what Daniel made of O'Kelly's revelations, and how it might have altered his thinking in relation to folklore. Folk memory is a very powerful thing. This might have been demonstrated in the case of the story in the locality of Newgrange suggesting that the Morning Star (Venus) shone into the chamber of the monument once every eight years, as recorded by Joseph Campbell in his 1959 book 'The Masks of God: Primitive Mythology"(4) Then there was the folklore collected in 1938 that suggested the Tuatha Dé Danann had built Newgrange using stones brought from the Mourne Mountains, another apparently wild and imaginative claim that had some basis in reality.

Even in the claim that "Nuda" officiated at Newgrange, the calendar was not too far off the mark. In the early texts, Newgrange is associated in particular with Elcmar, Dagda and Oengus. Dagda was chief of the gods, a kind of Tuatha Dé king, so to speak, and Elcmar was described as a "magician" and "original master of Brug na Bóinne".(5)

Unfortunately, I can only challenge Mr. Daniel posthumously, and as he is not here to defend himself, I must not take undue licence in criticising him for these shortcomings. I am glad that this diminution of folklore is not ubiquitous among modern archaeologists. As mentioned above, Michael O'Kelly outlined the mythical importance of Newgrange, and seemed to hold great reverence for the possibility that it was "a house of the dead and as an abode of spirits" which, he said, was a concept not contradicted by the findings of the excavation. O'Kelly felt that a connection between the archaeological evidence and the early literature was to be found in the older and "more genuine tradition".(6)

Daniel allowed only one statement in the 1960 calendar to stand: "It is at least true in this strange wild-cat account we have just quoted, that New Grange might well be described as belonging to 'the very, very old days'."

"It is our object in this book," he continued, "not only to describe the great tombs in the Bend of the Boyne but to set them in what appears to us their true prehistoric context, as far as the limitations of archaeology allow, eschewing the little people and Artemidoros".

One eschews the daoine sídhe at one's peril! Never dismiss the folklore...

References:
(1) Ó Ríordáin, Sean P., and Daniel, Glyn (1964), New Grange and the Bend of the Boyne, Thames and Hudson, p.19.
(2) Murphy, Anthony (2012), Newgrange – Monument to Immortality, Liffey Press, p.114.
(3) Ibid, p.170.
(4) Campbell (1991) [1959], pp.430-1.
(5) MacKillop, James (1998), Oxford Dictionary of Celtic Mythology, Oxford University Press, p.177.
(6) O'Kelly, Michael J. (1998) [1982], Newgrange: Archaeology, Art & Legend, Thames and Hudson, p.47.

New Year, New Moon - sunset, dusk and the arrival of the moon, Venus and the stars at twilight at Newgrange

The first evening of the new year was a glorious one at Newgrange in the Boyne Valley. The first sunset of 2017 was magnificent, followed by a descent into twilight that featured rich hues and colours, and then the crescent moon next to Venus, the Evening Star, made it a really gorgeous close to the day. In a couple of the shots, you might also catch a glimpse of Mars, which was trailing the Moon and Venus. I was lucky to be able to spend time there putting together this very special time lapse video. It might have been cold, but it was lovely.

Enjoy watching this time lapse with music to match. You will see the sun setting behind Réaltoge Hill, and the last tourists of the evening departing from Newgrange, before seeing the gradual arrival of twilight and darkness. Shot on four different cameras from six different vantage points over the course of four hours. Well worth the effort, I hope you agree. This video captures some of the essence of a place that, as a sacred monument, sees hundreds of visitors every day, but which once evening falls becomes a lonely and lovely place.

What could be better than to watch the sun, moon, planets and stars from Newgrange, where our ancient ancestors did likewise?

The 12 days of Solstice - Day 11 - Winter Solstice sunrise viewed from the doorway of Newgrange

It's day 11 of my new series of photographs entitled 'The 12 days of Solstice'. This is the second-last image in the series. It shows the sun not long after it has risen on the shortest days of the year at Winter Solstice. The picture was taken just inside the entrance of the passage of Newgrange. Above my head in this image is the specially constructed aperture known as the 'roof box'. This is the portal which allows sunlight to penetrate the entire length of the passage and into the chamber. The light that enters through the actual doorway does not reach the chamber floor. The two beams of light are kept separate by the stone seen in the top of this image.

Immediately in front of the entrance is the large kerb stone, K1, which on its front side (the side facing the sun) has the famous tri-spiral design among other lavish engravings. At the time this photo was taken, the sun's light had already left the chamber again. It shines in there for 17 brief minutes. There is something very special about the quality of the light immediately at sunrise. As soon as the sun rises above the ridge known as Red Mountain (Roughgrange), its golden light reaches into the corridor of Newgrange and shines a narrow beam of light onto the darkened floor of its central chamber. It is at this moment that the year is seen to have reached its turning point. The old year dies and the new year is born. Dagda, the father god, yields ownership of Síd in Broga (Newgrange) to his son, Oengus Óg, the youthful sun.

From this moment, following a period of about a week when the sun's rising position has stood still on the horizon, it begins its slow movement back towards the east, and after a few weeks the light will get stronger and the days longer.

The 12 days of Solstice - Day 10 - the famous triple spiral on stone C10 in the end recess of Newgrange's chamber

This carved design, on the side wall of the end recess in Newgrange's chamber, is one of the most readily identifiable symbols from the ancient megalithic world. It is a design that is unique to Newgrange. It is not found anywhere else. It's often referred to as a triple spiral, but this is not an entirely accurate description of it, as Clare O'Kelly pointed out in her description of this stone:

C10, the three-spiral stone (often wrongly called a triple spiral: since a double spiral, like those on the entrance stone, consists of two parallel coils, by analogy a triple spiral should consist of three; in fact, the design consists of three double spirals, the two on the right being S- or returning spirals as well). In order to integrate the left-hand spiral into the design the two free ends of its outermost double coil were separated so as to sweep concentrically around the two other spirals and to meet again having encircled the S-spirals. The whole pattern is only 30 x 28 cm. The spirals are beautifully picked in broad shallow channels so that the intervening bands stand in relief. The design is executed on the undressed surface, but an area of pick-dressing on the left partly encroaches it.(1)

One thing the archaeologists tend not to do (although that is not an exclusive tendency) is to try to interpret the meaning of the symbols. There are many, many theories as to the meaning of the triple spiral (should that be the triple double spiral?) Its position within the end recess, but on a side wall, means that, contrary to some speculation on the internet, the winter solstice sun beam does not strike it directly. Rather, it is illuminated by reflected light. So what does it mean? Does it mean anything?

My own speculation has revolved around the mythology and the astronomy of the monument. In myth, there are two significant "trinities", or trios of figureheads. Tochmarc Étaíne (the Wooing of Étaín) is believed to have been written in the eighth or ninth century AD, but the true genesis of its story cannot be known. It describes how Dagda, the chief of the god, the Tuatha Dé Danann, desires Bóinn (the goddess after whom the River Boyne is named). He sends Bóinn's husband Elcmar away and lies with Bóinn and they conceive a son, Oengus Óg. So we have father god, mother goddess, and divine offspring. The second trinity consists of Lugh, Dechtine and Sétanta. Dechtine comes to Newgrange in wintertime from Emain Macha (Armagh) and while there Lugh (another of the chief gods) appears to her in a dream and tells her she will bear a son, and that he will be called Sétanta. Sétanta later becomes Cúchulainn. Perhaps the triplicate of spirals represents the trinity of gods?

Separately, we find that several heavenly objects cast their light into Newgrange. One of these, as we know, is the sun. Each year on Winter Solstice, the light of the rising sun enters the long corridor of Newgrange and shines into its inner chamber. What is much less well known is that sometimes the full moons in summertime shine into Newgrange. Further to this is the fact that Venus, as the Morning Star, is said to cast a beam into the chamber of Newgrange once in eight years. 

References:
(1) O'Kelly, Michael (1998) [1982], Newgrange: Archaeology, Art and Legend, Thames and Hudson, p177.

Time lapse video - winter evening setting sun illuminates southern chamber at Dowth megalithic monument

It was shaping up to be a lovely time lapse video. I wanted to record the setting sun shining into the southern chamber of Dowth. It's six days until Winter Solstice, and the sky was nice and clear, so I headed out to Dowth with the cameras hoping to catch the illumination of the chamber. As you can see, all was going well, but an encroaching Atlantic front - bringing rain - started to shroud the sun just at the crucial time, and cut off the light, which had begun to reach the chamber floor.

I guess I will just have to try again, if and when the opportunity arises.

Make sure to watch the video full screen and in 1080 high definition. (To do that, press play on the video, and when it starts playing click on the YouTube logo on bottom right. That will open the video in a new window. Then click the full screen and HD settings either side of the YouTube logo).

In the meantime, if you want to see some fantastic photos of a previous winter solstice illumination of Dowth by Anne Marie Moroney, click on this link.

The 12 days of Solstice - Day 6 - Venus, the Evening Star, in the winter twilight sky over Newgrange

It's Day 6 or 'The 12 days of Solstice' and today's image features Venus, the Evening Star, over Newgrange at dusk in winter. The cycles of the heavenly bodies were undoubtedly recognised by early societies across the world. At Newgrange, the yearly cycle of the sun is definitively memorialised through the alignment of its passage and chamber with Winter Solstice sunrise. Less well known is the fact that at certain times of the year the moon can also cast its light in through the roof box and into the passage and sometimes the chamber.

The bright planet Venus, which is the third brightest object in the sky after the sun and moon, follows a distinct pattern over the course of eight years, sometimes appearing in the mornings before sunrise for a number of weeks or months, and sometimes appearing in the evening after sunset. After eight years, this pattern repeats. Could the builders have seen and known this?

Joseph Campbell wrote about a folk belief in the Boyne Valley that suggested the morning star cast a beam of light into the chamber of Newgrange once every eight years, at dawn. Uriel's Machine authors Christopher Knight and Robert Lomas suggest that a series of eight markings on the lintel stone above the roofbox of Newgrange represent the eight years of the Venus cycle. Indeed, on one year out of every eight, Venus rises on the morning of the Winter Solstice around an hour before the sun and an observer prostrate in the chamber of Newgrange would be able to see it through the roofbox.

In her guise as the morning star, Venus was known in Ireland as caillichín na mochóirighe, the 'early-rising little hag'.(1)

As you can see from the image above, Venus is a brilliant object. Compare it with the several stars visible in the image, which are much fainter. It is said that in complete darkness, away from city lights, the light of Venus casts a shadow. The folklore recorded by Campbell suggests that, once every eight years, the Morning Star "may be seen to rise and cast its beam precisely to the place of the stone with the two worn sockets".(2)

References:
(1) Murphy, Anthony (2012), Newgrange: Monument to Immortality, Liffey Press, p.77.
(2) Campbell, Joseph (1991) [1959], The Masks of God: Primitive Mythology, Pengiun Compass, p.431.

Further reading:
Do the myths about Newgrange and the Boyne Valley mounds offer an insight into their function?

The 12 days of Solstice - Day 4 - the doorway of Síd in Broga (Newgrange) lit up in the beautiful winter twilight

It's day 4 of my series of photos called 'The 12 days of Solstice'. Today's image shows Newgrange at twilight, with its portal aglow, as if a fire was ablaze in its doorway. One can almost imagine the Daoine Sídhe (The good people, fairies) dancing and singing there in the winter twilight.

The 12 days of Solstice - Day 2 - the golden glow of a beautiful winter sunset at Newgrange

Today is the second day of my new series of Newgrange photographs entitled 'The 12 days of Solstice". Today's image shows Newgrange in winter at around sunset. The sun has just disappeared below the near horizon, but its golden glow is still very much visible. The winter days are short in the Boyne Valley - in midwinter, the sun rises shortly before 9am and sets before 4pm. This dearth of light and heat reminds us how difficult life might have been around solstice in the Neolithic, and how important the turning of the year was to the builders of these huge monuments.

As a photographer, I enjoy the special light that happens at sunrise and sunset in winter. Even when it's cold, and maybe your hands are numb from holding the camera, the golden glow of the sun helps to warm the soul. Sunrise and sunset are very special times, and provide the observer with a moment of exhilaration and gladness. One can only imagine that the builders of Newgrange experienced  similar moments of bliss punctuating their lives as they grappled with some meaning behind their own existence.

For an explanation about the inspiration behind the new series of photographs, see this post:
http://blog.mythicalireland.com/2016/12/celebrating-winter-solstice-season-with.html

Celebrating winter solstice season with a new series of images of Newgrange called 'The 12 Days of Solstice'

The first image from my new series called 'The 12 days of Solstice' shows the corbelled ceiling of the chamber
of Newgrange. This photo was taken with a wide-angle lens while lying on the floor of the chamber. The ceiling
was not disturbed during excavations and is undisturbed. The passage is at bottom, with the recesses partly
visible on left, top and right.

Today begins a 12-day countdown to the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, which is celebrated every year at the 5,200-year-old Newgrange monument in the Boyne Valley. This year, as a special celebration of the solstice season, I am unveiling a set of images - one per day until solstice - based upon the idea of the song '12 Days of Christmas'.

Because the date of Christmas was undoubtedly chosen to coincide with the ancient pre-Christian celebration of the shortest days, I thought it would be a nice idea to do something based loosely around the twelve days of Christmas. However, instead of beginning on the special day, the series of images will be finishing on that day - the Winter Solstice - with the 12th image.

The series of images I have chosen is made almost exclusively of pictures that have never been seen before - with the exception of one. They show various images of Newgrange - interior and exterior - which I hope will evoke a mood of reverence for the ancestors, and perhaps an inclination towards reflection and contemplation about the deeper meanings of Newgrange, and how these might  permeate into our own lives.

For me personally, Newgrange is an extremely sacred and potent place. The idea - propagated in the abundant folklore and mythology of the sacred monument - that it is a liminal place, or point of access to other realms, is something that brings a deeper meaning to what it should represent for us, as individuals, and collectively as a society.

Newgrange functions as a mandala of sorts. It represents a prehistoric society's vista into an all-encompassing cosmology. It represents, symbolically, the earth, but an earth that is connected intimately with the wider cosmos. That connection is dramatically played out on the shortest mornings of the year, when a blade of golden light illuminates the dark cave in an awesome display that provides, for the modern observer, a moment of profound rapture. But it represents, more than anything, an image of hope - hope on two levels. The first is the hope that we can see the light after darkness, in a physical sense and also a psychological and spiritual sense. The other is that there is something beyond this life, something out there, through the "magic window", along the pathway of light, in another realm of existence.

There is much about Newgrange that is mysterious. But, when you've been there often enough, there is much that is hidden in plain sight. The antiquarians who visited the Boyne Valley monuments were, in some cases, undoubtedly looking for treasure - artefacts - things that would perhaps give them wealth and fame. However, the real treasure of Newgrange is far greater than any trinket of gold or venerated object of stone.

The real treasure of Newgrange is that it can serve as a mandala for us. It connects us with ancestors, those to whom we owe our very existence, and whose struggles through the dark periods of life were not in vain. It allows us a symbolic representation of something that is beyond the humdrum of ordinary life - opening a portal for us, perhaps, allowing ingression into sacred and divine realms. Newgrange - because it has endured and is still accessible to this day - offers an opportunity to experience a rapture and an awe, a pure exhilaration at the miracles of our existence, and indeed a space in which to contemplate the deepest of life's mysteries, those which were undoubtedly pondered by the ancestors of the Neolithic.

Where have we come from?
Who are we? 
Why are we here?
What happens to us when we die?

I hope you enjoy this series of images. I am very blessed to have been able to access Newgrange on many levels over the past two decades. I am, in particular, extremely grateful for the permission from the OPW that I have had to photograph its interior on many occasions over the years. I am especially thankful for having been able to witness the solstice illumination of the chamber, back in 2010. It is a very special place. I hope these photographs give you some sense of just how special it is.

Anthony Murphy, December 10th 2016.
(The first day of solstice!)

Time lapse footage shows dramatic eclipsing of Dowth's solar eclipse symbols on Stone of the Seven Suns

The above video is a time lapse sequence showing the Stone of the Seven Suns (kerb stone 51) as it is lit up dramatically after sunrise in early December, with just two weeks to go to the Winter Solstice. The video features almost half an hour of footage compressed into one minute and 30 seconds. The symbols on the stone are thought to represent the sun, or perhaps even the sun during a solar eclipse, with ties in with the mythology about Dowth which suggests that its construction was abandoned when a sudden darkness fell over the land.

The time lapse footage reveals something fascinating. At first, the solar symbols are lit up quite dramatically, so that they are shown in excellent relief. Then, as the sun rises moves towards the south, a shadow from another kerb stone falls over the sun symbols - eclipsing the symbols one by one. If you can, make sure to watch the YouTube video at 1080 HD and full screen.

Kerb 49 (arrowed) is the one that casts
the shadow on kerb 51. Also shown here
is kerb 50, with its vertical line.

Unfortunately there was cloud blocking the sun early on, so the first of the seven sun symbols, which is on the far left of the stone, is already in shadow when the sun comes out. However, that does not spoil the show. Sit back and watch this marvel of megalithic magic! One can only speculate as to whether this "light and shadow" show was intentional on the part of the builders. The shadow from kerb stone 49, which is two stones to the left of the Seven Suns stone, causes the eclipsing of the symbols on kerb 51. However, it can be seen that kerb 49 leans forward somewhat (K49 is arrowed in the picture on right), and one has to be mindful about the possibility that this lean has happened in more recent times and was not, perhaps, part of the original design.

However, this interaction of light and symbols reminds me somewhat of the illumination of symbols that are not dissimilar to Dowth's seven suns on the back stone of Cairn T at Loughcrew. These symbols are lit up by sunrise on the spring and autumn equinoxes.

The interplay of light and shadow is also suggested at Newgrange, where shadows from the Great Circle stones appear to point towards, or "touch", kerb stones at the front of Newgrange at certain important times of the year, as described by Frank Prendergast.

Although I've been to Dowth several mornings lately to watch how beautifully the sun symbols are illuminated, I hadn't realised the extent of the phenomenon, or the slow progression of the shadow, until I saw the time lapse video. The video was made by taking a photography every two seconds. Because it compresses time, it shows the effect much more vividly.

The sun symbols lit up by the low winter sun. The shadow has not yet eclipsed these emblems.

The shadow crosses the stone diagonally, and interestingly the last sun to remain illuminated is the one which is currently at ground level. I presume the original Neolithic ground level is several inches below the current ground level and that the lower part of this symbol is hidden from view.

At around 9.15am, as shown in the above photo, the shadow from K49 is crossing the diagonal line on K50. Within about 15 minutes this shadow will have completely crossed K50 and will begin its slow progression across K51, eclipsing the eclipse emblems as it does.

The shadow from K49 is almost half-way across K51, the Seven Suns stone.

There is undoubtedly more to be learned about Dowth. It continues to provide surprises. Even though its mythology suggests a summer solstice influence, we can see the midwinter sunrise also has a dramatic "wakening" effect upon the few eastern kerb stones that are revealed. This is by far the best time of the year to view the Stone of the Seven Suns. At most other times, the megalithic art appears to be very flat and is sometimes difficult to see.

We shouldn't forget either that Dowth's southern passage and chamber are aligned so that the light of the setting sun on winter solstice shines inside, as shown in these beautiful photos by Anne Marie Moroney.

Winter sunlight does some beautiful things with the ancient megalithic art on the stones at Dowth

I've been able to spend a few mornings at Dowth recently. It's one of three of the great monuments of Brú na Bóinne (the others being Newgrange and Knowth), but is the least visited of the trio. Personally, I'm glad that Dowth retains this almost-forgotten status. It is not on the official tour. It is wild and overgrown, and many of its secrets are in the deep slumber of many centuries. I like it that way. It's a lovely place to spend time. Despite the fact that it is named after darkness (Irish Dubhadh), it presents a very interesting notion - the belief that we must experience the darkness of the longest night before the new year dawns.

Winter sunrise at Dowth, the third great passage-tomb of the Brú na Bóinne complex.

While it near neighbour Newgrange is famous for its winter solstice sunrise alignment, Dowth's alignment to the sunset on the shortest day is less well known. Discovered (rediscovered) in 1980 by Martin Brennan and Jack Roberts, it was studied in detail over the course of a number of winters by Anne Marie Moroney, who published a lovely little book about it called Dowth: Winter Sunsets.

While the focus at Dowth is undoubtedly centered around winter sunset, there is something really beautiful that happens just after the sunrise on these short days of midwinter. The very well-known kerb stone 51 at Dowth, more famously referred to as the Stone of the Seven Suns (named so by Martin Brennan), is gloriously lit up by the warm luster of the midwinter sun. For about an hour after sunrise, these ancient solar symbols are highlighted in a dramatic fashion by the acute angle of the low sun. As a photographer who has spent many years photographing this stone under various lighting conditions, I can safely say that I have never seen them so impressively and dramatically in relief. It's quite striking. Below are a couple of photos showing some of the megalithic carvings, which are thought to be up to 5,500 years old, lit up by the winter sun.

Some of the solar emblems on the Seven Suns Stone lit up by the low winter sun.

The megalithic art is highlighted in dramatic and pristine fashion by the acute angle of sunlight.

The Stone of the Seven Suns is on the eastern side of the great mound of Dowth. Curiously, over on the southwestern side, the entrance stone to the southern chamber is also lit up by the morning sun in winter time. This is due to the alignment of the stone, which is orientated roughly northwest-southeast. There are two large cup holes on the stone, referred to by some as 'Lucy's Eyes'. There is also some worn megalithic art, which appears to be part of a spiral. A good bit of the stone is still buried beneath the ground - only the top third or quarter is visible above the surface.

The spiral and cup marks on the entrance kerb. I added flash to this one because the sunlight was a bit watery.

For a place that is named after darkness, the sun plays a big role at Dowth. It penetrates the southern chamber at midwinter, as we know. Until recent centuries, it probably also shone into the northern chamber around the time of Samhain and Imbolc sunsets (November/February). And there may be undiscovered passageways within its huge bulk. But as I said before, some of its secrets are in slumber. For now at least. And that's just the way I like it.

See more photos of Dowth.

Carrigbrack hill at Loughcrew is also called Sliabh Rua (red mountain) and now I know exactly why...

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.

References:
(1) http://intarch.ac.uk/journal/issue32/3/7.html

Do the myths about Newgrange and the Boyne Valley mounds offer an insight into their function?

"Myths are just stories," a historian once told me. As far as he was concerned, they were stories that were made up for sheer entertainment. In that mindset, myths are not metaphors for anything, and they certainly don't contain detail about real history, or any information such as astronomical data.

The winter solstice illumination of Newgrange by the sun. Composite © Anthony Murphy.

However, students of mythology know the truth is much more complex than that. Many myths are metaphorical. Some do refer to actual events. And there are stories that appear, in certain interpretations, to contain astronomical information.

My own view is that myths should never be dismissed as mere stories. However, the truth is that in most cases we can only travel so far along the road of hypothesis and speculation, no matter how well grounded it is, because often we are unable to discern the true age of a myth, or how it might have been altered by the voices of time.

In the case of Newgrange, Dowth and Knowth (the former two in particular), there are myths and folk tales that appear to offer a tantalising possibility - that they contain information about these sites and the function of these monuments that might go all the way back into deep prehistory. And so I will discuss some of these myths and folk beliefs in the context of possibility only - without drawing any definitive conclusions, except to acknowledge at the outset that I am excited about the possibilities, which may tinge my investigation with a hint of subjectivity.

Newgrange, Knowth and Dowth. Images by the author.

Joseph Campbell

I've written in several publications about the Venus connection at Newgrange. Joseph Campbell, writing in The Masks of God: Primitive Mythology, referred to a local story that suggested that at sunrise on one day in eight years, the morning star rises and casts its beam into the chamber. This story was recounted, it would appear, before the excavation and restoration of Newgrange in the 1960s, work which resulted in the leading archaeologist Michael O'Kelly witnessing, in 1967, the light from the winter solstice sun entering the chamber. Prior to the restoration, neither sun nor Venus (nor any heavenly body) could be seen from the chamber because of the subsidence of the passage cap stones during the five millennia since Newgrange was constructed.

Of particular intrigue is the fact that archaeologists maintain Newgrange was "sealed up" within a few centuries of being built after cairn material slipped off the top and covered the kerb and entrance, and that its passage and chamber lay concealed for about four millennia until local landowner Charles Campbell rediscovered the entrance in 1699AD.

Another folk belief in the 1930s, recounted recently in this blog, told how the Tuatha Dé Danann brought stones from the Mourne Mountains for the building of the mounds. During the excavations in the 1960s, it was indeed discovered that there were water-rolled granite cobbles at Newgrange (which had been hidden beneath the cairn slip). These, it has been revealed, came from the Cooley Peninsula, but have their origin in the Mournes.

In his 1990 paper, Time, Memory, and the Boyne Necropolis, John Carey examined aspects of two stories - one about Newgrange and one about Dowth. The Newgrange story, from Tochmarc Étaíne, The Wooing of Étaíne, tells of how the Dagda sent Elcmar away so that he might have illicit relations with Elcmar's wife, Bóinn. The Dagda worked a magic spell, so that Elcmar would seem that he is away for a single day, when in fact he had been away for nine months. Dagda lay with Bóinn and the child Oengus Óg was conceived and born. The Dowth story, from the Dindshenchas, told how the king, Bresal, had brought the men of Ireland to build him a tower to reach heaven. The king's sister cast a spell on the sun to make it stand still, so there would be endless day to allow the tower be built.

The myths of the Boyne monument appear to indicate control of time.

Carey makes a very interesting observation: "I am aware of no Irish legends associating the control or construction of sacred sites with the manipulation of time other than those which concern the tumuli of the Boyne valley."

In the tale Altram Tighe Dá Mheadar (The Fosterage of the House of Two Vessels), Manannán advises Oengus on how to take Newgrange from Elcmar: "Command him not to come (again) to the house from which he departs until ogam and achu are mingled together, until heaven and earth are mingled together, and until the sun and moon are mingled together." The mingling of heaven and earth could imply the mating of sky with the earth-mound Newgrange during winter solstice, while the latter reference to sun and moon being mingled might refer to an eclipse, something that I think is implied in the story about Dowth, in which the magic spell on the sun is broken when Bresal commits incest with his sister and a sudden darkness comes upon the land. (For further discussion of this theory, see Island of the Setting Sun, chapter 6.) I have discussed at length on the Mythical Ireland website and in my books the idea that the mound builders were competent astronomers, whose knowledge of the complex movements of the moon (and by extension the predictable patterns of eclipses) were recorded in stone, and inherent in the design of the monuments.

Ronald Hicks

Writing in 2009, Ronald Hicks of Ball State University suggested, in a paper entitled Cosmography In Tochmarc Étaíne, that the story of The Wooing of Étaíne was "meant as an allegory about lunar cycles in which Étaín represents the moon". These lunar cycles, writes Hicks, include the 19-year Metonic Cycle, which was"likely to have been of interest to the ancient Irish".

In one part of The Wooing of Étaín, Midir's wife Fuamnach became jealous of her husband's new wife, Étaín. By magic, Fuamnach turned Étaín into a butterfly (some versions say a fly) and raised a storm that buffeted the butterfly around Ireland for seven years.

At last, however, a chance gust of wind blew her through a window of the fairy palace of Angus on the Boyne. The immortals cannot be hidden from each other, and Angus knew what she was. Unable to release her altogether from the spell of Fuamnach, he made a sunny bower for her, and planted round it all manner of choice and honey-laden flowers, on which she lived as long as she was with him, while in the secrecy of the night he restored her to her own form and enjoyed her love.

There is only one "window" at Newgrange - the sky window, or roof box, as it's more commonly known. This aperture allows the sun to shine into the chamber on winter solstice. Perhaps the "sunny bower" is the chamber of Newgrange, illuminated by the rays of the rising sun on Winter Solstice. I discuss this and some of the other above mentioned myths about Newgrange in this video:

Watching the northerly march of the sun as we head towards the longest days of the year

I realise that I haven't written a blog post in a while. It's not that I haven't been doing anything. Quite the opposite. One of the things that's been keeping me busy is photography. Among many other things, I've been tracking the northerly progress of the sunsets over the past month or so as we march inevitably towards summer solstice and the longest days of the year. It's just over three weeks away now, and as much as I love this time of year, personally watching the sunsets is always tinged with sadness for me. And in this blog post, I will attempt to explain why.

The sadness finds its source in a number of places. I think that its difficult to live at any latitude so removed from the equator that the difference in the length of day from midwinter to midsummer is enormous. It's not so difficult to live in Ireland in summer, when the days are long and there is a great spurt of life and growth evident all around. Winter is a very different story. The days are short, and are often shortened further by a darkness that is creeping and all-encompassing. Immersed in this darkness, all you can do is accept it, and perhaps embrace it, and wait for the days to lengthen.

A recent sunset over the Boyne from Millmount.

Summer then arrives rather abruptly. In late March, the clocks go forward by an hour. Where previously the sun was setting around 6pm, now it sets at 7, and it doesn't get dark until nearly 8. Because it's the time of equinox, the sun's rising and setting positions on the eastern and western horizons are moving at their greatest speed. The days are getting longer rapidly from Imbolc (the ancient Celtic spring festival of early February), through spring equinox, and on towards Bealtaine (early May). Before Daylight Saving Time kicks in, you are probably driving to and from work in the dark, and find that the only daylight activities you can partake in (apart from whatever work you do) are at weekends, when you try to "cram it all in".

From late March onward, you can start to enjoy the "stretch in the evenings", as it is commonly referred to here in Ireland. And very quickly, within a month, you've gone from driving home in the dark to enjoying brightness until well after 9pm.

Tonight, (May 29th, 2016) I watched and photographed the sun as it went down beneath the horizon from Millmount, a mound said to have been built by the Normans in the 12th century, but which local folklore says is an ancient burial mound. The sun finally disappeared beneath the horizon at 9.33pm. As I write, it's 10.29pm and it's still not dark.

Now don't get me wrong. I love this time of year. And I love the long evenings. I enjoy the extra light. It invigorates my spirit. There is something about the lingering of the light that I have always connected with hope, and vitality. I suppose there's probably nothing unusual about that.

However, part of the sadness that I feel, even at this time of year, stems from the realisation that inevitably the sun will reach a certain maximum setting azimuth and, after halting there for a few days, will begin to start heading south again. No sooner do the glorious days of summer arrive and suddenly the pendulum swings against us. From Millmount, the sun at midsummer appears to set over Hill of Rath, in the direction of another hill at Collon known as the Black Hill. I wonder if this name is one of many place names in Ireland that might possibly be explained through such astronomical alignments. Is it called the Black Hill because it marks the place from which the sun turns back, towards the shorter days and darker evenings?

Today was a particularly glorious day in the Boyne Valley. It was warm and sunny and the whole valley is alive with the business of summer. People were out in droves, walking, playing, relaxing. It was one of those days when you might say to yourself, "if it was like this all the time you'd never want to leave."

But some of us are so married to the place - despite the sometimes endless rain, and the short cold days of winter - that we never leave it anyway.

The swifts and swallows and house martins, having recently arrived back from their faraway wintering grounds in Africa, perhaps conversely remind us of our own rooting to place, our connection to home, something that, until the invention of powered flight, was largely intrinsic to our lives as humans. We might have ventured across the globe as a species, but locally, once we find home, we tend to stay there. And sometimes, bound to that spot on the earth by our sense of belonging, and perhaps reinforced by our sense of community, we might wish that, like the swallow, we could just alight into the great air and fly off somewhere else for the winter, leaving the harsh chill behind.

One of the other things that makes me sad, even on these lovely long evenings of summer, is the fact that the relentless movement of the sun, and the consequent brightening and darkening of the days, is an eternal reminder of the fleeting and changing nature of our own lives. There, reflected in the everyday movements of that golden ball upon which we depend for so much, we see in vivid reality the corruptible nature of our own carnal selves. Just as the day rises tentatively in the east, and the noon comes brightly to strengthen the day, the evening arrives all too swiftly and the day is spent. All this is extended and magnified in the great drama of the seasons, and all too quickly the autumn arrives, with its fallen leaves and drooping spirits ushering in the harsh winter.

The setting sun in early May viewed from Millmount.

So even as we watch the sun dropping down onto the far green-grey hills in the warm evening, we contemplate the relentless march of time, and of season, and how the winters and summers rise and fall with alarming haste. And we think back, perhaps, to the metaphorical dark and bright seasons in our own lives - times when we might have enjoyed a fulsome vitality, or times when maybe there was darkness or a lack of light. We might think of people - friends, relatives or acquaintances - upon whose lives the sun set all too soon.

All of which gives us good reason to enjoy, as much as possible, while we have the time, and while we might be able to, the glorious coming of the long evenings of summer.

And perhaps, as we watch that sinking red orb strike the horizon, we might remember also the ancient ancestors who possibly stood at the same spot and watched that same sun disappear into the earth.

A few pictures of the completed High Man art installation

The completed 'High Man' artwork, shown on Summer Solstice.
Photo: www.facebook.com/copterviewireland

The finished High Man project, sitting on a winter solstice
alignment with Newgrange in the background and Mound A
in the foreground. Photo: www.facebook.com/copterviewireland

Artists Richard Moore and Derek McCluskey, along with Anthony Murphy
and his five kids are all shown standing in the "sun" in this image to give a
sense of scale. Photo: www.facebook.com/copterviewireland

Walking through the giant man . . . another view of the artwork.
Photo: www.facebook.com/copterviewireland