I'd been to Capel Garmon and been a little overwhelmed. I'd visited Barclodiad y Gawres and Bryn Celli Ddu on Anglesey and found myself quite emotional. Strangly, perhaps, the remains of Capel Garmon had affected me at a more fundamental level than the Anglesey tombs. I say strangely, but thinking on it, it isn't surprising really is it? At Capel Garmon I could see the chambers, walk within them and sense the presence of our ancestors - much of this was denied me, for very good reasons on Anglesey. At Capel Garmon I was really there.
I knew of the Tyddyn Bleiddyn Chambered Tomb in Cefn, of course. I'd visited once before, many years ago, in passing really. I'd written an article on them, largely from research and memory, but it had been a while. And given my recent writing and visits to Neolithic sites further than my stated remit, I thought it best to visit again...to see my Neolithic tomb, in my neck of the woods.
What was I expecting? I'm not sure. What had I built it to be in my mind's eye? I don't really know. When I arrived at the lonely field in Cefn, in Spring sunshine but between snow blizzards, if you will, I was staggered by what I found. It was a ghost, an impression in the soil. I tell you now, I stood at the gate to the field, and I was at something of a loss.
Compared to Capel Garmon and the tombs on Anglesey, Tyddyn Bleiddyn is barely noticeable. A vague impression of a overall shape, a collection of stones that seemed to suggest an entrance avenue of sorts. I walked around it, took my pictures. And then I stopped. Then I wondered. Then I looked at it again. I saw it as it was - there was enough of it to do that. I saw the Neolithic peoples placing their kin within its chambers - twelve people were found within it in the 19th century - and it suddenly didn't matter that it wasn't the like of Capel Garmon or the tombs on Anglesey. This was as profound as those magnificent tombs, but more so, in fact, because I had look, really look for the past at Tyddyn Bleiddyn. I was at peace.