I had my own reasons for visiting Raphoe, in County Donegal, but they were not to visit the Beltany Stone Circle (Ciorcal Cloch na Bealtaine).  In fact, I had never heard of the Beltany Stone Circle before I arrived that morning in Raphoe.  Subconsciously, I think I may have seen a sign to it, but I had paid it little attention.  It was the woman in the Raphoe Heritage Centre who suggested that I should visit it.

“Just a couple of miles out of town.”  She pointed, to indicate the vague direction.

I reckon it was slightly more than a couple of miles out of town.  In fact, I would have suggested that I had walked that indeterminable distance, typically known as ‘a blimin’ long way’ before, slightly dispirited, I got out my mobile phone to check just how much further it was to the Beltany Stone Circle, only to discover that it lay in the next field.

The name Beltany relates to the Gaelic May Day fertility festival of Beltane, marking the start of summer.  Walking along the shady, tree-lined avenue, which was the final part of the route to the stone circle, I met a middle-age––how would best describe her?––New-Agey woman, sporting a colourful bandana and rather billowy robes, coming towards me.  She had been the first person I had passed since leaving Raphoe.

“You’re in for a treat,” she said, indicating back the way she had just come.

Rather unreasonably, I felt a twinge of annoyance at someone making assumptions regarding my feelings.  I’d be the one to decide whether I was ‘in for a treat’, not a complete stranger.

Nevertheless, when I reached the end of the avenue and crossed a stile into the field, I discovered that the New Age woman’s prophesy had been accurate: the Beltany Stone Circle was an unexpected treat.

The circle consists of sixty-four large stones, although there may originally have been as many as eighty in the group.  Dating back to the Bronze Age (1400-800 BC), the exact purpose of the Beltany Stone Circle is lost in the mists of time but, as with similar monuments, it was most likely associated with some form of religious ritual.  Now it stands, alone on its hillside, romantically forgotten, its only disciples an occasional tourist and a small flock of sheep.

Purple thistles have grown up on the raised hummock at the centre of the circle and, as I walked the perimeter of stones, first in one direction and then back the other, the view of low hills and green fields stretched away on all sides, across Donegal, and towards distant Tyrone.

It was a beautiful, peaceful place––spiritual, without wanting to sound too New-Agey myself––somewhere that I could have long dallied.  As it was, I cursed my lack of foresight at not bringing a sandwich or a snack with me.  Lunchtime approached and I was beginning to feel hungry, so I turned my feet, once again, in the direction of Raphoe, and the afternoon bus back to Letterkenny.

© E. C. Glendenny

E. C. Glendenny enjoys a spiritual moment.