Two quoits on the moor

03. 06. 2025

Up from a curving road I take a track through new foxgloves and old bluebells. Soft ferns caress my legs but the gorse wants me gone.

The breeze hits me atop a carn with no name. From blue sea to the north, then west, then south I scan around me and see the outline of an old tin mine.

I head to the engine house past fern covered mine shafts, then to a rocky outcrop of weathered sculpted stone and beyond there, the ruinous remains of Sperris Quoit.

A single upright stands like a gravestone amongst the fallen four with a long since grounded capstone prostrate and beyond repair. Who laid here, miner or master ?

I glance up and there ahead a frozen giant. I wend my way to five hefty uprights and a blocking stone no longer willing to hold the mega capstone now slipped and angled down.

Before the portal four pillars stand, their purpose lost in time. I peer into the damp dark chamber with no entry beyond the granite blocks.

So this is Zennor Quoit, where over time, consumed in the dark centre, a mingle of ancient bones lay waiting their decay.