Hiding in the Landscape
13.09.2025
The landscape in the north of Islay is rugged and harsh to the eye with little habitation other than a hardy farmstead or two. A desolate road between Kilchiaran and Lossit Bays passes close to Cultoon, one of the few stone circles on the island. I found a parking spot and pulled up next to a derelict van that had been picked on by local graffiti artists. Somewhere nearby Cultoon was hiding in the undergrowth.
I headed up the road keeping my eye on a shallow dome of land to my right and after three hundred metres a sign on the other side of a boggy ditch confirmed the circle to be where I had believed it to be. A waterlogged and not so well beaten path took me up a shallow rise towards the mound, and on arrival I found a wide circumference of large fallen stones similar in layout to Arbor Low and Leskernik, but more concealed by long grass. Of the fourteen stones only two were still standing. They were both chunky blocks that might have survived the test of time due to their wide base. Even up on the mound the ground was high in moisture and this could have contributed to the fate of the fallen twelve. Given the location, with a three sixty distant horizon line I asked myself whether the night sky and the movement of the sun and moon had some relevance here. It was difficult to make sense of the circle photographically from ground level so I attempted a drone shot before leaving but the wind was too strong.
Driving further north the barren landscape gave way to small lochs fringed by undulating plantations. After arcing around the top of Loch Gorm once again the terrain became wild with a rough road eventually leading to a small homestead. This was the nearest I could get to what many consider to be Islay’s most impressive standing stone. A path took me up over over crags to a bleak valley with views towards the remote north coast. The first sight of a distant ancient structure is always a thrilling moment and with the sudden view of Ballinaby opening up before me I was once again reminded of the pleasure of discovery in a timeless setting.
The Ballinaby stone stands in the corner of a vast sloping field that dips and rises to rugged hills to the north east. A nearby wall follows the contour almost to a vanishing point giving grandeur to the surroundings. Somewhere down in the dip out of view was a sister stone now broken, but at one time the same size as it’s five metre high neighbour. Remarkably, considering the height of the Ballinaby stone it measures a mere half metre across from top to bottom and even less in depth. As I made my way down the slope I turned to look back at the improbable cut of a silhouette rising up into a darkening sky of thunder clouds beyond. I followed a direct line down to where the second stone should be and discovered it as fractured as a broken tree stump. I stayed and soaked up the palpable atmosphere for as long as I could before feeling the first drops of imminent heavy rain. A couple arrived as I was leaving and stood dumfounded at Islay’s ancient jewel in the crown.
