A Day To Remember

I guess I could have gone on another day, if only I'd known. But as it turned out I went to Stonehenge on the worst day possible. Well maybe not quite the worst, there was no fork lightning.

I set off nice and early, bad idea because everyone is heading for work or school, it's raining and visibility is poor. The traffic in the UK is unrelenting, and at this hour of the morning it's unadulterated mayhem. It takes me 25 minutes to get from one side of Salisbury to the other.

I arrive at Stonehenge car park and find there are other intrepid adventurers out on this dreadful morning, hauling on waterproof jackets and optimistically erecting umbrellas.

We are on Salisbury Plain here, where the wind is ripping in from the south-east with nothing to stand in its way. An umbrella is a useless weapon against such elements.

I decide a cup of coffee in the car might be a good idea, and perhaps the weather will clear a little. It gets worse.

Nothing for it but to pull on the jacket and erect my new National Trust umbrella (purchased two days ago in the rain at Mottisfont Abbey) in spite of knowing the pointlessness of the exercise.

I hasten up to the ticket booth to flash my National Trust Australia card only to find that because this site is co-managed by the Trust and English Heritage, Aussie card holders are persona non grata. I pay up and collect my audio guide then head out to the stones.

Just as I am setting off, a bus load of older American tourists are doing likewise. We emerge from the relative shelter of the car park and walkway, into the driving rain. I back myself into the wind and rain with the umbrella behind me to listen to the first part of the audio. An American gentleman near by says to his wife, 'If I ever have an idea like this again hit me over the head will you'.

My jeans are getting wetter by the minute but when I turn to look at the stones I am awe-struck. Even in these abominable conditions the stones are breathtaking. They are massive and seem to have a sort of luminous glow. Every angle is different as you move around the circle. Only visitors on guided sunrise and sunset tours are allowed to walk amongst the stones these days, the rest of us stay behind the ropes.

Even so there is a spot where you are very close to them which was where I turned into the wind to catch my first glimpse. They are in fact not far from the A344 which leads to the car park but driving past them is nothing like standing near them. The wind is so fierce I can hardly hold the camera still to take some photos.

I abandon the umbrella and the audio guide, I'll have to settle for a circumnavigation and shall read up on the details later.

To be here for the summer solstice and see the sun rise between these prehistoric giants, would be the moment of a lifetime.

By the time I reach the Heel Stone, not part of the circle but one of two that marked the entrance to the circle from what was once the ceremonial avenue, the path is disappearing under water, and my jeans are completely saturated as are my two pairs of socks.

I hasten back to the car where I find a plastic bag to sit on, in a not very successful, as it turned out, effort to keep the upholstery dry. My plan to seek out a couple of the White Horses that are dotted about these chalk hills is now out of the question. I must drive the 40 minutes home to get dry, and in these appalling driving conditions, that's where I'll stay.

I wonder as I drive away what the bus load of drenched Americans will do to dry off. At least they'll always remember the day they visited Stonehenge.