Artsfish Salon

Wanderlust; journey to Stonehenge

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Driving south from Glastonbury, I check my map and conclude that I am about an hour from my second destination, Stonehenge. I settle in to enjoy the drive. It is an odd sensation - driving on the opposite side of the road in the opposite seat from what one is used to in the States.

The fabulous and uncharacteristically beautiful weather continues to amaze me. It is October,sunny, and warm - three words that usually don’t occur in the same sentence for any length of time in England, especially in October.

The English countryside is just as idllic as pictures suggest. Green hills roll by, spotted with farms and grazing sheep. The winding road is occasionally and artistically interrupted by small villages. Within the villages I see some modern structures, but there are many historic buildings, remnants of people and times long gone. The thickly textured thatch roofs are a feat of timeless engineering and show a proud art; a well thatched roof may easily serve longer than an owner’s lifetime, some have lasted a hundred years. It is a splendid thing to see, these villages.

Enraptured by my drive, I make a few wrong turns. I finally conclude that it is time for some technology. I pull into a lot next to a huge and weathered barn to dig through my bag for my handheld. I slap the GPS module into it, center the map on my location, and program the destination for Stonehenge.

My trusty but somewhat obsolete GPS leads me spot on to Stonehenge. Laughing inwardly, I wonder what the architects of this ancient place would think of such a device. The best estimates of modern scholars place the origins of Stonehenge at some 4000+ years ago.

The ring of stones are stunning in their simplicity. The afternoon sun gives a sharp definition to the angles and textures of the weathered and roughly hewn megaliths. Their majesty is evident, they stand stark in a wide open landscape. From horizon to horizon there is nothing to clutter the view. How Stonehenge has survived all these millennia I cannot imagine. Some fallen stones have disappeared throughout the ages, but overall the circle remains remarkably intact. It is rather hard to imagine, but in 1917 some misguided officials submitted an outrageously odd application to request the complete demolition of Stonehenge - with the claim that it was an unacceptable hazard to low flying aircraft! It seems that bureaucracy and ineptitude are timeless as well.

I am pleasantly surprised by the lack of obvious tourism. The only scar upon the otherwise uninterrupted green land is a smallish parking lot on the opposite side of the street from the ancient ring of stones. Pulling into to a slot, I exit the car and look for signs of an information center.

I find an information booth and a shop, both cleverly concealed in a channel cut blow ground level on the far side of the parking lot. I am glad that someone had this idea. Nothing would spoil the serenity and magic of this placid setting more than the usual gaudy badge of tourism heralded by blatantly tasteless signage and buildings. A small tunnel under the road opens innocuously at the edge of a meadow, in the middle of which stands Stonehenge. It is an unforgettable sight. It is indelibly and gloriously stamped on my mind.

Surrounding the circle of stones is a modest path. Seemingly mesmerized by the ancient tableau, visitors walk the path and lounge on the grass in near silence. Herds of sheep graze in nearby fields.

I get out my camera. It is a perfect day. I stand in front of Stonehenge, recalling my morning stroll through the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey. It is a perfect day.