Prehistoric Kilmartin Glen: Argyll's stones of destiny

Compared to world-renowned historic landscapes like the Heart of Neolithic Orkney, Kilmartin Glen is a relatively well-kept secret. Located a few miles north of Lochgilphead, most tourists are unaware of its existence as they rush to Oban and the isles. That may well be changing.

The New York Times ranked Kilmartin Glen as one of its 52 top places to see in 2023, piquing ­national and international interest. Along with the major ­redevelopment of Kilmartin Museum, set to reopen this spring, Kilmartin’s position on the must-see map of Scotland has been significantly magnified.

There is no single thing that makes Kilmartin Glen special, though several individual locations within it are enough for history, folklore, and ­nature ­lovers to flock to this corner of Mid Argyll. It is the ­interrelationship between these things, in a space which is geographically small yet infinitely ­explorable, that gives Kilmartin Glen its appeal.

The Linear Cemetery SINCE at least the Neolithic, Kilmartin held an extraordinary place in the worldview of Scotland’s ancient peoples. At the centre of this “ritual ­landscape” was the Linear Cemetery, a string of seven cairns along the glen’s low-lying bed.

READ MORE: 'Wee Frees': Why are Free Church of Scotland members called that?

Five of the original seven cairns still stand in ­varying states of preservation. Though their names can blur together, each is distinctive. Glebe Cairn, the ­northernmost cairn in the Linear ­Cemetery and ­within a literal stone’s throw of Kilmartin ­Museum, is reduced to a saucer-shaped heap of stones. It was within this cairn that archaeologists ­discovered an elaborate jet necklace, a testament to the ­sophistication and wide-ranging trade links of Kilmartin’s early inhabitants.

Next in the line is Nether Largie North Cairn, perhaps the most memorable and interesting of the bunch from the perspective of authenticity, as it was almost wholly rebuilt in 1970. It was never meant to be entered, but a modern hatch and ladder allow you to descend into it. The cap stone of the cist burial within is adorned with cup marks and depictions of bronze axe-heads, two powerful motifs from the ­Neolithic and Bronze Ages, respectively.

During the reconstruction process, someone saw fit to decorate the hatch with a cup-and-ring design, echoing the patterns found on stone surfaces in the surrounding landscape. The reconstruction and ­addition of “new” features to Nether Largie North Cairn brings to mind an old adage – “This is my grandfather’s axe. My father replaced the handle, and I replaced the blade.” It is up to each of us to decide if it’s still the same axe, or in this case, the same cairn.

READ MORE: Humza Yousaf promises regional assemblies on independence

Nether Largie Mid Cairn is the next monument in our southward procession. It is mostly a tumble of stones, though just beyond the main, ruinous cairn is a cist burial. Its capstone is propped open at an angle permanently exposing a space which was only ever meant to be seen by the dead within. Several large stones form a semi-circle around the cist’s open side – a perfect spot for a rest, with a fine view back to Kilmartin Village and across the breadth of the glen.

Then comes Nether Largie South Cairn, possibly the first of the cairns of the ­Linear Cemetery to be built and therefore one of the oldest monuments in Kilmartin Glen. Its first phase was in 3700 to 3600 BC, when a six metre-long chamber was made. Nearly 1500 years later a ­Beaker-style pot was ­interred within, evidence of Continental ­incomers to Kilmartin’s ritual landscape. You can clamber into the passage, something which is exceptionally fun, if a little ­unnerving, after dark!

A copse of trees conceals Ri Cruin, the final and southermost cairn of the ­Linear cemetery. As the name suggests, it is thought to be the burial place of an ­ancient king. One of its stones bore a carving of a bronze halberd, an ­immensely valuable and potent talisman of the Bronze Age.

Symbols on stones: rock art SCOTLAND’S Rock Art Project (ScRAP), whose innovative research methods had provided new, invaluable insights into the making and meaning of Scottish rock art, have recorded 332 rock art sites in Kilmartin Glen. This makes Kilmartin Glen one of the most prolific sites for rock art in the world, and accounts for around 10% of all known rock art sites in Scotland. Most examples of rock art in Scotland were made between 4000 and 2500 BC.

In the 1970s rock art specialist ­Ronald Morris ranked 104 theories for who or what made the patterns and what they could mean. Gathering every idea from ­archaeologists and New Age ­mystics alike, some sound plausible – for ­instance, that they have something to do with ­funerary rituals, mapping out solar and lunar ­alignments, or marking ­territorial ­boundaries.

Others are, well, less ­credible, such as the idea that they are fossilised grooves left by basking snakes or are a form of extraterrestrial communication. ScRAP has other ideas. Their research demonstrates that most rock art sites are not in obvious or highly visible places, making their function as waymarkers or territorial markers unlikely.

A large majority of Kilmartin’s rock art sites are on stone outcrops oriented northeast and southwest, ideally placed to catch the midwinter sun. The best time to view the dazzling array of patterns – such as cup marks ringed by concentric circles, and teardrop lines fading into ­natural fissures in the stone surface – is at sunrise and sunset, especially in the low light of winter. The truth of their meaning may never be known, adding to their mystique.

A lifetime could be well spent ­visiting and contemplating the hundreds of rock art sites in and around Kilmartin. ­However, assuming most visitors’ time here will be considerably more limited than that, there are a few that stand out from the rest in terms of visual effect, ­variety of motifs, and accessibility. These include the multiple, massive panels at Achnabreck and Cairnbaan, a panel with beautiful views to Loch Craignish at ­Ormaig, and the teardrop-shapes carved into a sloping stone at Torbhlaren.

Castles galore KILMARTIN’S prehistoric sites tend to dominate the spotlight, but there are also numerous castles for those whose ­leanings are more medieval.

Perched on a hilltop overlooking the northern entrance to the glen is Carnasserie Castle, a stout ruin with multiple floors of rooms and viewpoints to wander through. Its most prominent resident was John Carswell, who was appointed Bishop of Argyll by Mary, Queen of Scots. Carswell later converted to Protestantism, and it was within a chamber of Carnasserie Castle that he translated John Knox’s Book of Common Order into everyday Gaelic. His translation became the first printed book published in Gaelic.

READ MORE: Rishi Sunak under fire as King's EU meeting falls through

Central to Kilmartin Village is ­Kilmartin Castle, a picturesque Z-plan towerhouse built in the late 16th ­century. Its first floor was used as the local school in the early 19th century, though it fell into disuse and by 1826 its only resident was a female pauper. When Thomas Clarke purchased the castle in 1998, he described the main hall as “a forest of trees”. Most recently, owners Stef ­Burgon and Simon Hunt made extensive and ­respectful restorations and turned the castle into one of the most sought-after holiday rentals in Scotland.

Overlooking Loch Crinan stands Duntrune Castle, seat of the Malcolms of Poltalloch. Its compact curtain wall and towerhouse place it firmly in the ­“galley-castle” tradition, defined as ­castles for whom the realm of the ­Gaelic ­waterways and warships were at the ­forefront of their architecture and ­machinations. Though a private ­residence, its stag-adorned ­gateway and idyllic coastal location can be admired from a distance. The Great Moss LOOMING at the southern edge of Kilmartin Glen is the Moine Mhòr, or Great Moss. The vast peat bog is one of the great, primeval characters in the story of this landscape. Ten thousand years ago, much of what is Kilmartin Glen was under the sea. Around 5,500 years ago, the waters receded and peat began to form in the sea’s brackish leavings. Today, the Moine Mhòr is a National Nature Reserve of tremendous biodiversity and ecological importance.

The earliest people in Kilmartin Glen engaged in a fascinating interplay with the Great Moss. They built standing stones and buried their dead in the ­fertile fringes of the moss, perhaps not ­noticing at first as the bog slowly expanded like the belly of a deep, slow inhalation. ­Eventually it swallowed the stones.

Ironically, the activities of early ­farmers may have helped to seal this fate. Birch trees commonly grow at the edge of bogs. Early farmers felled these trees to make use of every available piece of ­arable land, not to mention the timber for fuel and building materials. In doing so, they removed a natural obstacle to the peat bog’s expansion.

The standing stones only re-emerged in the nineteenth century when the landowners, the Malcolms of Poltalloch, drained swathes of the Moine Mhòr to convert into pasture, causing the bog to deflate and give up its long-held ­secrets.

The ­Malcolms, who used profits from slave plantations in Jamaica to take up the call of “improvement”, built an ­experimental farm and tileworks on the reclaimed land. The changes they ­engineered in the ­landscape were ­beyond the wildest dreams of the kings of Dal ­Riata who ruled Kilmartin Glen a ­thousand years prior.