Stonehenge - a pivotal point in our tour

Much of Stonehenge is a mystery, and we are drawn to the sight by the impressive ability of a people to erect such a monument without the machines and resources we have in our modern era. Taken at dusk 24 June 2013.

The crows flew in, interrupting the stillness of this treeless plain. They were neither ominous nor sinister, but alive.  The only natural movements around the site, aside from the birds and the tourists,  were in the wind and the grass.  They landed atop the larger stones that are about 25 feet in height.

Now that I am back home, time is going to pass even more quickly because the routines and chores of life are layered under what I want to process and write about from the trip. I cannot, yet, think sequentially. The images flood in when I pick up the gifts and souvenirs we bought, and the experience comes back. This is the first of my tour reflections, and I am starting in the middle.

We had planned to tour Stonehenge and Avebury from Bath, but booking availability and time constraints controlled our choices. Jon found a wonderful tour, Scarper Tours, that left Bath in the afternoon. Our only destination was Stonehenge which allowed us more time in Bath and a slower touring pace. There was no reason for us to rush through to another activity since we were on our own time to absorb and enjoy our experiences.

Time had its effect on us. Stonehenge was, generally, in the middle of our touring since Bath was the transition city between Paris and Manchester, our two anchors. This ancient circle of stones let us turn from the rush of the various museums and travel concerns to being grounded by the UK sites and visiting with Jon Jr. So, like the roads that circled our old cities and pivoted out like spokes on a wheel, I will begin my reflections with Stonehenge. We toured the site on June 24th.

We had been touring the city of Bath on foot and met with the tour group at a fountain in front of the Bath Hotel. There was a lovely ice cream shop on the corner and a kiosk on the square with artisan glass trinkets and jewelry items. Across the busy road, the land dropped to a private park and the River Avon. If we were to cross the bridge and go through the right-of-way, we would come to the steps that led to Sydney Buildings, the street our Bed and Breakfast was on. The sun was out (It had drizzled of-and-on during the morning.), and everything was lush. The Georgian buildings brightened, a glow on their creamy surface.

The tour bus had a purple color with brightly patterned interior, a 70s feel. As we travelled, the hills rolled up on the left, with sheep by the road, clusters of buildings in the distance, and hills appearing beyond that. Everything changed and returned with the winding road, the round-a-bouts, and the hills we rode up-and-down. Our attention was called to one of the Wiltshire White Horses that was quite clear on one of the distant hills. And we passed through a small town that still had a prison room on the main road.

Both Jon and I had heard the disappointment from various friends about the Stonehenge site. We were prepared for viewing them from a distance because of the space being cordoned off. We were prepared that the stones might not be as large as we might expect.

The day had clouded over and was darker than it should be on an early evening so close to midsummer. There were glowing patches in the sky where the cloud cover was not as dense, but the day had gone decidedly gray. We saw the stones in their stark solitude on the plain that seemed quite flat. As we approached, we say the evenly shaped mounds like upturned bowls at irregular places around the site.

No, the stones did not tower to the height of Notre Dame's ceiling, but the size was not inconsequential and the starkness of their positioning, not huddling or even seeming to converse with each other, evoked a silence. I was glad that we were only a hundred or so people at the site, and we had it to ourselves. We could stand with the wind wrapping around us as a murder of crows swooped down to coat one of the cross beams. The texture of these weathered megaliths with their gouged sides and the sense of having been aged by more than time and wind drew me in. No, I did not need to be any closer. To touch the stones would have been a different experience, but this was sufficient.

Leaving the site, I noticed the surrounding hills with more of the burial mounds, larger but of the same shape as the smaller ones within the cordoned area. I noted the groove that the audio tour referenced as the parade walk, and I looked at the people scattered around the path and through the fields that were open. I walked back to bus followed by blackbirds, the jackdaws were prevalent as was the strange black-and-white bird magpie that seems to be everywhere.

In spite of warnings from friends, we were not disappointed by our tour. The experience of Stonehenge is something to contemplate. Jon bought a glass paperweight with the image of the standing stones etched within the glass, suspended in space as the site itself seems to be suspended in reality and in time.

It was a pleasant drive back to Bath, and the sun came out. We listened to the peals of the bells from Bath Abby as we ate dinner.