The ancient fort stands on top of the promontory, overlooking the bay. Old stones grassed over now. I stand in the winter’s sun, gazing out to sea. Aware that in this place, I am not alone. Past and present overlap, a blurring of time. If these stones could speak – what stories they could tell. Two thousand years and more this place lived. A small community, overlooking the ocean. Protected from strangers, lifted high above the waves. Imagine. The laughter of people long gone fills my mind. In such a place was peace. Oh, and hard work, and toil. Not an easy life, up here, battling the elements. But safe. Secure. In tune with their world.
I climb down the steps, to the land once sea, and make my way to the shore. The tide rolls in, depositing its load. Seabirds call, turning over the seaweed. Up on the dunes the morning frost lies still, outlining leaves with sliver glitter. The fishing fleet is out, dots in the distance. The Isle of Man floats on the horizon, and the Mull rests on a bed of mist. Not much of a change over two thousand years.
This post refers to a place called Barsalloch Fort. If you are interested in knowing more, look at http://www.undiscoveredscotland.co.uk/portwilliam/barsallochfort/index.html for pictures and www.historic-scotland.gov.uk/propertyresults/propertydetail.htm?PropID=PL_029 for archaeological info.