The interpretation of prehistoric features as ritual sites and practices may distract attention from the ancient need for functional infrastructure. Roger B. Hutchins argues for one such case.
Most NE readers, if few others, will be familiar with prehistoric stone rows. I became a guide for the Dartmoor National Park about 35 years ago, and needed to have an explanation for these enigmatic ancient monuments. I became disillusioned with the orthodox religious/ceremonial/sepulchral explanations as my exposure to the Dartmoor examples increased. Visitors from all over the world would make on-the-spot suggestions and I began to hear the astronomical ‘solutions’.
An article in Nature explained that the rows at Merrivale were set up to predict eclipses.* Its authors, both mathematicians, collaborated to produce an explanation that was too complicated for my brain; later I had the good fortune to take one of the authors and his group on a couple of guided walks. He tried to explain his theory, and asked to be taken to Hurston Ridge stone row. He could not find an astronomical solution for this almost perfect double row.
Over the years, I have seen most of the Dartmoor rows, and realised that astronomical solutions are not applicable to the majority of the alignments. There had to be a simpler solution. I made a point of asking the general public “What do you think the function was?”. The most common answer was that they are pointing to something. But what? There were many intelligent suggestions, none of which applied to more than a few alignments, and seemed to be little more than coincidence. And yet a navigational solution is the most obvious.
My first breakthrough came when I noticed that the rows at Langstone Moor, Conies Down and Lower White Tor were all pointing towards the Yealm Estuary. Further investigation showed that at least eight more rows had a similar orientation. I had always assumed that the rows were built by local inhabitants, so I asked myself the obvious question. Were people coming into the Yealm estuary (still a haven for small boats) from overseas, and placing the rows to show the easiest route back to their boats?
As I looked at the orientation of all the other rows on Dartmoor (there are nearly 90) and followed the lines on the map, it became obvious that the rows were indicating the most economical routes to coastal and estuary havens. There was also a relationship between length of row and distance to destination. It became increasingly obvious that the stone rows had a navigational function, but there were still many unanswered questions.
The simplest and most obvious solution to lines of stones in the landscape is that they contain information on direction and distance, but there are so many ‘theories’ floating around that this was just another to be slapped down. Jeremy Butler, in Vol. 1 of his Dartmoor Atlas of Antiquities says “They are open to any imaginative interpretation, and their function remains as mysterious as ever”. Wikipedia’s ‘Stone Rows’ states (2006) “their purpose is thought to be religious or ceremonial, perhaps marking a processional route. Another theory is that each generation would erect a new stone to a sequence that demonstrated a people’s continual presence. This is all guesswork, for which no evidence is applied.
Archaeologists generally seem to have given up on them, with statements like “We may never know their original purpose”. They have totally dismissed ‘trackway’ theories, and the idea has been treated as heresy (It has been said that all the best ideas begin as heresy).
Imaginative interpretations are of little value. Only interpretations based on observation, measurement and fieldwork will ever be acceptable. The list of failed explanations from amateurs and professionals alike continues to grow. They have failed for many reasons, not least of which is the tendency to choose examples that fit the proposed solution, while ignoring the majority that do not.
It can be demonstrated that most, even all, the Dartmoor examples have recognisable geographical targets, and that the position of the alignment is critical for the most economical route to that target. It can also be demonstrated that where the row is still complete, its length has a scaled relationship to the length of the journey.
Many of the rows are fairly straight, and the direct route to destinations will have been the most economical. It is the rows that are not straight that so elegantly demonstrate the navigational function. If the most economical route is not a straight line, then this is built into the design of the row.
Nearly all the Dartmoor and Bodmin Moor alignments are indicating coastal or estuary havens (the Erme Long Row is an interesting exception). The stone row can be read like a linear map, giving all the information needed for the journey – direction, distance and positions of waymarkers that will have been set along the route. Most of these waymark stones have been removed since Enclosure. The stones that remain in their original positions are those that were too large, too small, too remote, or simply the wrong shape. There are examples of waymarkers that have been worked on in the past, but which have failed to make a good gatepost, as in a more modern waymark system created about 300 years ago to guide travellers from Tavistock to Ashburton. Many of these stones were removed to make gateposts, but the firstone at Merrivale, still there, was worked on, but the stone split out and it was consequently left in place.
I was satisfied that the stone rows of Dartmoor and Bodmin Moor were set up to guide people back to their boats, but who were these people, where were they coming from and what did they want from the granite moors? Clue: The stone rows are nearly all close to tin production areas. Tin was in great demand early in the Bronze Age; bronze was first made of an alloy of copper and arsenic, but the smiths of the Middle East were dying of arsenic poisoning. An alloy of copper and tin was found to be far safer, and of equal quality. The merchants of the Levantine coast, which included the Phoenicians and their neighbours, the Danites, set out to explore the world for minerals. Copper was found fairly locally in Cyprus, but tin was rare; tin ore in the form of cassiterite was eventually found in abundance in Devon and Cornwall, literally lying in streambeds waiting to be picked up. Perhaps the most abundant source of tin was at Kings Oven near Postbridge on Dartmoor, and at least five stone rows serve this area, directing routes in all directions.
Eventually, iron took the place of bronze for tools and weapons and the tin trade became less lucrative. The old tin trade routes were abandoned; in came agriculture and property, and roads between settlements. Ready-made granite posts were welcome and the prehistoric waymark system became fragmented and unrecognisable. Fortunately the stone rows were left, although many of the more useful stones are known to have been removed.
I realise that in prehistoric interpretation, there are only degrees of probability, influenced by evidence. We all have our ‘coincidence threshold’: some will look for a reason if something happens twice, others will need 20 occurrences. Coincidence threshold is determined by our underlying personality, knowledge or ignorance, or even prejudice, as in when a proposed solution goes against long-held beliefs. Many people may be unwilling to revise their view about stone rows, but those who have read Watkins’ The Old Straight Track will, I hope, recognise, whatever its shortcomings, that trackways were crucial in a world where trade existed in a whole range of products, including walrus ivory from the Orkneys, gold from Ireland and tin from Danmonia; the prehistoric trade in minerals cannot be overemphasised. Fleets of boats voyaged between distant places; waymarked routes overland would have been not only useful, but essential.
Ezekiel 27: 15 mentions ‘The men of De-Dan’, a tribe of international merchants allied to the Phoenicians. It seems the Danites were instructed to leave waymarks: Jeremiah 31: 21 states “Set up waymarks, make thee high heaps”. There is a probability that the first tin traders between Britain and the Middle East were the sea-going mer- chants from Dan, the descendants of the Biblical Tribe of Dan. These early merchant explorers, having a tradition of waymarking, may have set up our stone alignments and may also have set up the waymarking pillars andboulders still to be found throughout Europe.
Brittany’s massive alignments have not been explained, but if we examine Alexander Thom’s plans it is possible to see that the alignments fit thegeography of the Euro-Asian landmass. I suggest that the Carnac alignments do not have an astronomical function, but like the smaller examples in Britain give details of distance and direction on a large scale. Whatever the function of these massive alignments, it must have been important; what could be more important than a map of waymarked routes from the most W to the most E coast of the landmass?
In S Ireland is a different kind of system. Aubrey Burl, in From Carnac To Callanish, lists 76 pairs of standing stones in Cork, and 27 pairs in Kerry, and only 43 in the rest of Ireland. A common feature of these paired stones is that one is taller than the other. It is obviously not a coincidence that most of the pairs in Cork and Kerry are ori- ented approximately NE-SW. Burl suggests that the orientations may be towards the midwinter sunset, but adds that “the astronomical reality is against so simple an explanation”. No archaeologist to my knowledge ever links stone alignmentswith a geographical or navigational function, but gold was fairly plentiful in Wicklow, and boats coming into the Atlantic and heading for Ireland would first make land in Cork and Kerry, a comparatively short (160mls) land distance to Wicklow. Two stones are enough to give direction, especially where one is taller than the other.
It is only when the alignments are interpreted as having a route map function, and the thousands of isolated standing stones as having a waymark function, that it all begins to add up as a navigational system.
Examples of Dartmoor stone rows suggesting routeways:
- Hurston Ridge stone row. This double row is situated between Kings Oven and Fernworthy reservoir, close to the extensive tin works of Kings Oven. A line extended from the row to the coast will bring the traveller to Minehead, still a haven for small boats. [Row length x 500] gives the approximate distance from the row to Minehead. The route takes advantage of the ford over the R Teign at Chagford. There are several other rivers to cross, including the Exe, but these should not have been a problem.
- Assicombe double row, situated in Fernworthy Forest and also close to the Kings Oven tin works, directs the traveller to the navigable part of the R Tamar just below New Bridge. [Row length x 200] gives the distance from the row to the destination, and I have found several waymarker stones on this route, the most important of which is the elegant Bear Down Man. The route needed to cross two major rivers: the East Dart, which it crossed at the Waterfall, a place where it is possible to step over without getting wet feet, and the Tavy, which it crosses at Fitzford, now West Bridge, Tavistock. The nearest point on this line from the Kings Oven tin works is where the Assicombe row was sited. The design was not random, but carefully surveyed.
- Merrivale North double row points at the R Camel at Wadebridge in Cornwall, crossing the R Tavy at Tavistock, and the Tamar above its greatloop, thus avoiding two crossings. [Row length x 300] is equal to the distance.
- Merrivale South double rows are unique in that what appears to be continuous alignment has a small cairn about halfway along. It has been suggested that this was a child burial, but I suspect that the pit once held a large standing stone. The W section directs the traveller to the River Camel, a few miles upriver from Wadebridge, crossing the Tamar below the great loop; the E section heads for Dawlish Warren.
- Piles Hill double row. Newquay in Cornwall is the destination of this row, situated on the Southern Moor near Harford. It is shaped like bicycle han- dlebars. If a traveller took the direct route from this point to Newquay, it would cross the Tamar Estuary at its widest point; instead, the row directs the traveller SW to the narrowest cross- ing point, which is where the modern ferry still operates. The route follows the coast, then turns N to Newquay, hence the handlebar shape. [Row length x 100] is almost exactly the journey distance. Each part of the row represents each part of the journey, and the deviation of the row is equal to the deviation of the route.
This, I suggest, has to be the most convincing illustration of the navigational design of the rows.
* [Editor’s note] Possibly J E Wood & A Penny, ‘A Megalithic observatory on Dartmoor’, Nature 257, 205 – 207 (18 September 1975); we asked the author for more detailed references when this article was first submitted in 2006, but unfortunately he has not been back in touch and we have been unable to contact him again. However, as ideas similar to these suggested by Mr Hutchins, i.e. markpoints on prehistoric tracks, have re- cently been advanced in other contexts, and published in NE, we believe it is appropriate to proceed with this worthwhile piece, despite having lost contact with the author.
Extracted from Northern Earth 126 (Summer 2011), pp.12-15