Exploring Ancient Sites in Somerset
Somerset is a land where hills rise like islands out of the mist, where rivers carry echoes of forgotten ceremonies, and where stones still whisper if you care to listen. Few counties in England hold such a dense concentration of ancient sites woven together by story, myth and the curious persistence of human memory. To walk here is to walk in two worlds at once: the modern landscape of villages, roads and fields, and the older landscape that still breathes beneath it, marked by stones, barrows and sacred hills.
In this journey we visit four of the most remarkable places in Somerset: Glastonbury Tor, Stanton Drew Stone Circles, Stoney Littleton Long Barrow and the lesser-known Flagstaff Hill. Each has its own history and mystery, yet they seem to be connected by threads that cross the landscape. Archaeologists speak of alignments, geometers map out ley lines, dowsers talk of currents of earth energy, and locals simply feel what cannot be easily explained. Our visits were not about explanations but about presence, standing quietly with the stones and letting them speak in their own way.
Glastonbury Tor
You cannot speak of ancient Somerset without beginning with Glastonbury Tor. Rising 158 metres above the Somerset Levels, the Tor has been a beacon for centuries. Its steep slopes are crowned by the remains of St Michael’s Tower, a 14th century church that itself replaced earlier Christian sanctuaries. Yet long before the monks of Glastonbury claimed this hill, the Tor was already sacred.
About Glastonbury Tor
Archaeological evidence shows that people were visiting the Tor as far back as the Neolithic. Pottery shards and flint tools have been found on its slopes. During the Iron Age, terracing was cut into the sides, though the exact reason is still debated. Some believe it was for defensive purposes, others that it formed a giant ritual maze spiralling up to the summit. The terraces may also have been linked to agriculture, though when you climb the Tor and look out across the floodplains, it feels far more like a place of ceremony than of farming.
The Tor’s Christian overlay is equally important. When the great abbey was founded in Glastonbury below, the hill became part of its sacred geography. The monks associated it with Joseph of Arimathea, with the Holy Grail, with Avalon itself. To them the Tor was a holy mount rising out of the waters of the once-marshy Levels, a symbol of resurrection.
Legends
In legend, Glastonbury Tor is the Isle of Avalon, the place where King Arthur was taken to be healed. The name Avalon may derive from the old word for apple, and indeed the orchards around Glastonbury are famed for their fruit. It is said that in ancient times, when the Levels were flooded, the Tor would have appeared as an island, its summit rising out of a shining lake. This fits beautifully with the image of Avalon, the island of apples and eternal youth.
Some legends go further, claiming that beneath the hill lies a hollow realm, the home of Gwyn ap Nudd, lord of the underworld and leader of the Wild Hunt. The entrance to his world was said to be at the base of the Tor, where the Chalice Well still flows. Pilgrims continue to drink its iron-rich water, believing it to hold healing properties.
Sky alignments and ley lines
Glastonbury Tor has long been studied for its alignments. On the summer solstice the sun rises in alignment with the Tor when viewed from certain points on the Levels. Dowsers speak of strong energy currents, particularly the Michael and Mary lines, which are said to crisscross here on their journey from St Michael’s Mount in Cornwall to Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk. Whether or not you believe in ley lines, it is difficult to stand on the summit and not feel a powerful sense of connection to earth and sky.
Our visit
When we climbed the Tor, the wind was so strong it almost pushed us sideways. Clouds moved like great ships overhead, and for a moment it was as if the world had pulled back its veil. We sat with our backs against the cool stone of the tower, letting the hum of the hill rise up through our spines. It was less about belief and more about presence. The Tor simply is, and it has been for millennia.
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Stanton Drew Stone Circles
If Glastonbury Tor is the heart of Somerset’s myths, then Stanton Drew is the county’s hidden crown of stones. Hidden in a quiet village south of Bristol, these circles are little visited compared to Stonehenge or Avebury, yet they form one of the largest prehistoric complexes in England.
About Stanton Drew
The main circle at Stanton Drew is huge, 113 metres across, making it the second largest stone circle in Britain after Avebury. Around it are two smaller circles, forming a triad that would once have been magnificent. Many of the stones still lie flat or half-buried, weathered into strange shapes. Excavations have revealed postholes suggesting that enormous timber structures once stood here as well, possibly predating the stones themselves.
The circles date to around 3000 BC, in the Neolithic period. Their purpose remains uncertain, but alignments to lunar and solar events have been suggested. Some researchers argue that Stanton Drew was a great ceremonial centre, comparable in importance to Stonehenge.
Folklore
Local legend calls the stones the remains of a wedding party turned to stone by the Devil. The bride and groom danced on a Sunday, and the fiddler who played for them was none other than the Devil himself. At midnight they were petrified where they stood, forever frozen in their celebration. The largest stones are said to be the bride and groom, while the smaller ones are the guests and musicians.
The story may sound fanciful, but it hints at something deeper: the sense that these stones are caught in time, their purpose forgotten but their presence impossible to ignore.
Connections to other sites
Stanton Drew seems to be part of a network of ancient sites stretching across the landscape. Some suggest alignments link it to the Mendip Hills and to other stone circles in the region. The great size of the circle suggests it was designed for large gatherings, perhaps linked to seasonal rituals or celestial events.
Our visit
When we visited Stanton Drew the air was heavy with mist. The stones loomed suddenly out of the whiteness, massive and silent. Touching them, we felt the cold grit of millennia. Unlike Stonehenge, there were no fences, no crowds, only us and the stones. It was as if we had stumbled back into a time before time, when people moved in rhythm with earth and sky.
Stoney Littleton Long Barrow
Hidden in a quiet valley near Wellow lies Stoney Littleton Long Barrow, one of the finest chambered tombs in Britain. It is a Neolithic passage grave, over 30 metres long, with a central passage and several side chambers built of great limestone slabs.
About Stoney Littleton
The barrow dates to around 3500 BC, built by farming communities who settled in the fertile lands of Somerset. Excavations have revealed human remains within, along with flint tools and pottery. It is believed that the barrow was a place where ancestors were laid to rest, but also a place of ritual, where the living could enter the tomb to commune with the dead.
The passage is aligned roughly to the winter solstice sunrise. On that morning, the first light of the returning sun would shine directly down the passage, illuminating the inner chamber. This was not coincidence, but a deliberate act of cosmic architecture, linking death and rebirth, darkness and light.
Connections to other sites
Stoney Littleton shares its solstice alignment with many other Neolithic tombs across Britain and Ireland. It belongs to a tradition that stretched from Orkney to Brittany, a shared language of stone and sun. In this way, Somerset is part of a wider sacred geography, connected by ideas as well as stones.
Our visit
We stooped low to enter the narrow passage, the air cool and damp. Inside, the chambers opened up like stone petals, each one dark and silent. We placed our hands on the stones, worn smooth by thousands of years. The sense of presence was overwhelming, as if the ancestors were still there, not as ghosts but as part of the stone itself.
Emerging back into the daylight felt like rebirth. The tomb is not a place of fear, but of deep stillness, a reminder that life and death are threads of the same weaving.
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Flagstaff Hill
Flagstaff Hill may not appear on many lists of Somerset’s ancient treasures, yet it deserves its place beside the county’s better-known sites. Situated near the village of Christon, this hill was once crowned by an Iron Age hillfort. Though quieter and less celebrated than Glastonbury Tor or Stanton Drew, it carries its own power, blending the defensive strength of ancient earthworks with commanding views over Crook Peak and the surrounding countryside.
About Flagstaff Hill
The hillfort dates back to the Iron Age, a period when communities fortified high ground both for protection and as a gathering place. From here, inhabitants could observe the landscape, control routes, and maintain oversight of the surrounding area. The fort was not only a defensive structure but also a communal centre, likely hosting meetings, trade, and seasonal ceremonies.
While the timber palisades and buildings have long vanished, the earthworks remain remarkably visible. Banks and ditches curve around the hilltop, revealing the scale of effort invested in constructing and maintaining the fort. Archaeologists see in these formations the imprint of a thriving community connected to other settlements and ancient sites across Somerset.
The stone row
One of the most intriguing features of Flagstaff Hill is the stone row that runs along the ridge. These carefully placed stones, though smaller than the great circles of Stanton Drew, form a deliberate line that hints at ceremonial or territorial significance. Archaeologists suggest that such rows could have been used for processions, marking seasonal changes, or aligning with celestial events.
It is easy to imagine ancient people moving along this line, performing rituals or observing the heavens, their steps echoing across the centuries. The stone row transforms the hill from a mere defensive site into a space of ritual and reflection, a quiet but powerful testament to human presence and purpose.
Our visit
Walking the hilltop, we followed the contours of the earthworks, but it was the stone row that truly captured our attention. The line of upright stones seemed to reach across time, guiding our steps as if echoing the movements of the Iron Age people who once walked here. We paused at each stone, letting our hands brush against their weathered surfaces, feeling the quiet intention behind their placement.
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The Ancient Network
What links these places together? On the surface they are different: a hill, a circle, a barrow, a fort. Yet beneath the differences runs a common thread. Each is concerned with orientation, with the meeting of earth and sky. The Tor aligns with solstice sunrises. Stanton Drew may have tracked lunar cycles. Stoney Littleton captures the winter solstice sunrise in its passage. Flagstaff Hill connects sightlines across the landscape.
These are not random placements. Our ancestors were shaping Somerset into a sacred map, a network of stones and hills through which they could engage with the cosmos. Whether you call them ley lines, energy currents or simply alignments, the pattern is there.
When we walked from one site to another, we felt the rhythm of the land change. At Glastonbury Tor the energy was soaring, like a flame. At Stanton Drew it was grounded, heavy with stone. At Stoney Littleton it was inward, a spiral into stillness. At Flagstaff Hill it was watchful, expansive. Together they form a balance, a whole.
Walking the Ancient Landscape
To visit these ancient sites is to step out of ordinary time. You do not simply see them, you enter into conversation with them. They are not mute ruins but living presences, still part of the land’s memory.
Somerset holds many other secrets, from the caves of the Mendips to the forgotten barrows hidden in fields. Yet Glastonbury Tor, Stanton Drew, Stoney Littleton and Flagstaff Hill stand as four guardians of the county’s ancient soul. Each one teaches something different. Each one invites us to slow down, to listen, to remember.
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