Stone, Sky, River and Mountain The Sacred Geography of Bryn Celli Ddu: Part Three.
Updated: 7 days ago
The Sacred Heart of Anglesey Part Three: The Sanctified Rocks, Mountains and River at Bryn Celli Ddu
Welcome back to Stone Temple Gardening, where we dig deep to unearth the mysteries of prehistory to cultivate new understandings of the past!
All photos are my own, with permission, or creative commons.
Before we embark, a heartfelt thank you to Dr. Mike Woods, whose groundbreaking PhD thesis, Dark Side of the Tomb, offers a fresh lens through which to view this ancient site.
All speculations that flow from his work and others are entirely my own.
Introduction
Today, we continue our deep exploration of Bryn Celli Ddu, one of Britain’s most enigmatic prehistoric ritual sites. In Part One, we examined the tomb itself. In Part Two, we investigated its satellite burials and their role in a broader ceremonial landscape, stretching from the Mesolithic to the Iron Age. Now, in Part Three, we ask: what made this patch of Anglesey sacred for millennia, drawing generation after generation to build, rebuild, and reinterpret its meaning?
To untangle this question, we must look beyond the tomb and into the landscape itself. How did the geography—framed by Snowdonia’s distant peaks and the presence of an “honoured” sacred river—shape the spiritual significance of this site? Why was this place imbued with a sense of enduring power? The answers may lie not only in the views and waterways but also in the island’s unique geology. What role did rare rock formations play in the placement and construction of monuments here?
To understand Bryn Celli Ddu’s long-held sanctity, we must explore the land beneath its feet and the waters that have long flowed through this ancient, venerated terrain.
The Geology of Anglesey
Anglesey boasts one of the richest collections of prehistoric sites in Europe—but why? Its status as an island, offering natural protection from invasion, combined with fertile farmland, certainly played a role. Yet beyond these practical advantages lies a deeper question: why was this land, above all others, considered sacred for millennia?
To answer this, we must shift our perspective to the Stone Age—a time when the earth and its rocks held vastly different connotations than they do today. Stone was not merely a building material; different rock types likely carried distinct spiritual as well as physical properties. This is evident in the great effort made to transport specific stones across vast distances to be incorporated into far-off monuments.
Therefore, the geology of Anglesey is crucial to understanding the significance of Bryn Celli Ddu. The island’s landscape, shaped by tectonic forces over eons, provided Neolithic builders with an extraordinary variety of stones—some of which were deliberately chosen for this sacred site. Among them, the presence of blueschist, a rare high-pressure metamorphic rock, raises intriguing questions. Was it selected solely for its durability, or did its rarity, source, and striking appearance hold deeper meaning?
Beyond the stones used in the monument itself, nearby rocky outcrops also show signs of human interaction. Could these natural formations have been revered as sacred landmarks in their own right? In this section, we will explore how Neolithic builders engaged with Anglesey’s geology, considering both the practical and the symbolic in their choices of stone and site placement.
Edward Greenly’s 1919 work, The Geology of Anglesey, first detailed the island’s complex Precambrian geology, known as the Mona Complex. Among his discoveries the Blueschist Belt stands out—a rare formation created by the high-pressure, low-temperature metamorphism of subducted oceanic crust. Anglesey’s blueschist ranks among the oldest known anywhere, drawing geologists from around the world due to its accessibility and the insights it offers into Earth’s deep past.
But what did this remarkable stone mean to the Neolithic builders of Bryn Celli Ddu? Was blueschist chosen purely for its structural qualities, or did its rarity and unusual appearance imbue it with spiritual significance? Did the people who constructed the site regard it as a sacred material, deliberately incorporating it into the stone circle and later monument? In this section, we will explore whether the builders of Bryn Celli Ddu saw blueschist as a practical resource or a substance charged with deeper meaning.
Prehistoric Selection of Rock Types in the Neolithic and Bronze Age: Practical and Symbolic Considerations
The Neolithic and Bronze Age peoples of Britain and northwest Europe demonstrated deliberate preferences in their selection of rock types for constructing monuments and crafting portable ceremonial objects such as polished stone axes. While direct evidence of their attitudes is absent, archaeological patterns in material use, sourcing, and context provide insights into the interplay of practical and symbolic factors influencing their choices (Darvill, 2010; Parker Pearson, 2012).
Neolithic Rock Selection
In the Neolithic and beyond, the construction of megalithic monuments—stone circles, dolmens, and passage tombs etc.—demonstrates a reliance on locally available stone, tempered by some selective preferences. At Stonehenge, for example, the massive sarsen stones were sourced from the nearby Marlborough Downs, chosen for their hardness and durability, ensuring the monument’s longevity (Richards, 2004). However, the smaller and earlier bluestones, were transported approximately 200 kilometres from the Preseli Hills in Wales (Parker Pearson et al., 2015). Schist rock forms were chosen for building Callanish I on the Isle of Lewis as well as at Orkney’s Maes Howe chambered tomb, both in Scotland. Such effort suggests that availability alone did not dictate stone selection; cultural and ritual significance also played a role. Ethnographic parallels and local traditions associating these stones with healing properties support the idea that they were valued for more than just their structural qualities (Darvill, 2010).
Aesthetic qualities also influenced Neolithic choices. At Newgrange in Ireland, white quartz was used to create a striking facade, likely selected for its light-reflective properties, which may have symbolised purity or celestial connections (O’Kelly, 1982). Similarly, quartz-rich stones appear repeatedly in British megalithic monuments, suggesting a widespread preference for visually distinctive materials (Bradley, 1998). Even for portable objects, such as polished stone axes, Neolithic people favoured fine-grained, durable rocks like flint, jadeite, and volcanic tuff. The Langdale axe factories in the English Lake District, which produced axes made from a distinctive green type of tuff are one example. Another is the axes made on a huge scale at Graig Lwyd at Penmaenmawr visible from Bryn Celli Ddu across the Menai Straits in Snowdonia. These axes were widely distributed across Britain, suggesting that the stone’s provenance itself conferred prestige.
Practical and Symbolic Interplay
The relationship between rock selection and landscape is evident in the targeted use of specific quarries. Sites such as Craig Rhos-y-felin, the probable source of Stonehenge’s bluestones, and the Langdale axe quarries highlight how prehistoric people deliberately sought out geologically and topographically distinctive locations. These sites, often situated in dramatic natural settings such as cliffs or mountains, may have held their own cultural significance. This suggests that the act of stone extraction itself was a ritual engagement with the land, not merely a practical endeavour (Bradley, 2000).
The selection of rock types for Neolithic monuments balanced practical and symbolic considerations. Hard igneous and metamorphic rocks, such as basalt, granite, and schist, were often preferred for their durability, particularly for standing stones and tools. Softer stones, like limestone, were less commonly used unless locally abundant as seen in some local tombs. Symbolically, stone colour, texture, and origin likely carried deep meaning. At Bryn Celli Ddu Bach, for example, the arrangement of different coloured rocks in the cairn circle - red sandstone may have evoked blood or vitality, while white quartz, with its shimmering effect - could have been linked to celestial or ethereal symbology. Stones from distant sources may have signified a connection to other sacred landscapes. The geological diversity of Anglesey provided Neolithic and Bronze Age communities with a wide range of options—hard schists for tools, limestone for tombs—potentially reflecting localised spiritual beliefs about the land.
Landscape and Provenance
Neolithic and Bronze Age societies demonstrated a sophisticated understanding of both the physical and symbolic properties of stone. While local availability shaped general patterns of construction, the transportation of materials over vast distances and the preference for striking, unusual rock types indicate that these choices were deeply embedded in social and ritual practices. Ongoing research continues to refine our understanding of these decisions, bridging the gap between the stones themselves and the silent narratives they carry.
At Bryn Celli Ddu, a quartz-rich rock was easily accessible from the nearby western outcrop. Blueschist, which forms through rapid tectonic movement, stands out for its distinctive blue hue, caused by minerals such as glaucophane and lawsonite. Its twisted, contorted structure gives it an almost sculptural appearance—qualities echoed in the stone pillar inside Bryn Celli Ddu. But why was this particular rock chosen for the monument? Was it simply a convenient local material, or did its rarity and striking appearance imbue it with some sort of spiritual significance?
Furthermore, was the site’s placement determined by practical considerations, or was it chosen because it stood beside an ancient, sacred natural rock formation as well as the “honoured” Afon Braint? The deliberate selection and transport of stones—recently underlined by the Altar Stone at Stonehenge as originating in Scotland, alongside the Welsh bluestones—reinforces the idea that specific rock sources held profound meaning. Was Bryn Celli Ddu constructed here because the land itself was already sacred?
The Sacred Ground
Bryn Celli Ddu: A Landscape of Stone and Water
Bryn Celli Ddu is a monument layered with meaning. Its astronomical alignments (see Part Four), ritual deposits, sequential burials, and carefully selected materials—quartz, blueschist, and intricately carved stones—span from the Mesolithic to the Iron Age, underscoring its enduring sanctity. Positioned at the meeting point of two fundamental elements—rock and water—the monument is encircled by the blueschist belt while the River Braint flows nearby. This interplay between geological and hydrological features suggests that the site was possibly chosen not just for practical reasons but because it embodied a deeper cosmological resonance linked to its geography.
Long before Bryn Celli Ddu was first memorialised by posts raised in the Mesolithic, another feature may have served as the original marker of sanctity—twin to the sacred Afon Braint—the great blueschist outcrop to the west.
The Large Blueschist Outcrop
Often overlooked, this imposing rock formation lies in the field immediately west of Bryn Celli Ddu. Made of the same distinctive blueschist found within the tomb and passage, it is also adorned with Neolithic or Bronze Age cup marks—evidence of human engagement with the site long before the final monument took shape. Archaeologist W.J. Hemp was the first to note that much of the stone used in Bryn Celli Ddu, including its standing pillar and the earlier stone circle, likely came from this outcrop.
Some have argued that a natural “throne” or seat-like formation exists upon the outcrop (Cope, 1998). Could this feature have marked it as a place of authority, vision, or initiation? The standing stone to the west, aligned with the outcrop, tomb, and celestial bodies, reinforces its importance. Here, in this web of stones and alignments, we glimpse the outcrop’s centrality to the greater ritual terrain.
The outcrop’s potential role as a sacred feature is reinforced by its rock art. Due to extensive medieval and later quarrying, what remains today may be only a fraction of its original markings. Yet even in its diminished state, prehistoric people engaged with this site in a meaningful way. Further afield, other cup-marked small outcrops positioned on high ground remain within sight of Bryn Celli Ddu. These markings, at first seemingly random, reveal subtle patterns upon closer inspection. One recurring motif—an arc of four cup marks—has been recorded here and at other sites across Anglesey and Britain, hinting at a shared symbolic system.
Curiously, no carvings have been found to the northeast of Bryn Celli Ddu—the very direction of its alignment on the midsummer sunrise. Whether this absence is intentional or coincidental remains unknown, but it raises intriguing possibilities about the decorated outcrops’ role in the larger ritual and astronomical landscape. Was this direction towards the main astronomical alignment left un-decorated deliberately? What does this say about the other cup marked features? Would they have somehow interfered with the alignment in some way? Perhaps left bare to honour the solstice light?
Does this link the rock art conceptually to astronomical functions in some way? Many have pondered their meaning and stars, constellations and lunar associations have been speculated. We can only guess, but the idea is intriguing.
The Arc of Four Cup Marks: A Wider Symbolic Thread
The recurring motif of an arc of four cup marks etched into the blueschist outcrop west of Bryn Celli Ddu hints at a deeper symbolic resonance, one not unique to Anglesey but echoed in rock art traditions across Britain, such as the cup-and-ring markings of Kilmartin Glen in Argyll and the Galloway peninsula in southwest Scotland. These parallels suggest that this pattern may belong to a broader Neolithic or Bronze Age symbolic system, potentially tied to celestial observation or communal ritual, though its precise meaning remains elusive and possibly localised to Anglesey’s sacred landscape.
This connection invites speculation: were these four marks a shorthand for a cosmological concept—perhaps the four quarters of the sky or a seasonal cycle—shared across prehistoric communities? At Kilmartin, similar arcs often accompany concentric rings, interpreted by some as solar or lunar symbols (Bradley 1997), while in Galloway, they cluster on elevated outcrops much like Anglesey’s, hinting at a reverence for high places. Yet the simplicity of Anglesey’s arcs, unadorned by rings, might reflect a distinct regional expression, tailored to the island’s geology and spiritual narrative. Whatever their intent, these markings tether Bryn Celli Ddu to a wider conversation in stone, stretching across Britain’s ancient terrains.
The evidence strongly suggests that the Neolithic builders of Bryn Celli Ddu were acutely aware of the geological uniqueness of their surroundings. The deliberate selection of blueschist, the presence of a significant outcrop adorned with ancient rock art, and the alignment of the monument with striking landscape features all point to an intricate relationship between stone, symbolism, and sacred space. Whether this connection was primarily practical, ritualistic, or cosmological, the interplay of geology and monumentality shaped the site's enduring significance.
Yet Bryn Celli Ddu is not solely a monument of stone. It is also set in a landscape of mountain and river. Towering in the distance is Snowdonia and flowing alongside and through this ritual terrain is the Afon Braint, a river that may have played an equally crucial role in its selection and meaning. In the next section, we turn to the significance of the mountains and the Afon Braint in particular—was this river merely a practical resource, or did it hold its own sacred importance in the beliefs of Neolithic people?
The Geography of Bryn Celli Ddu
The Sanctity of the Snowdonia Mountain Range
The presence of the Snowdonia Mountain range across the Menai Strait adds another layer of significance to Bryn Celli Ddu. Visible from the site, these towering peaks may have served as a powerful visual and spiritual anchor for Neolithic and Bronze Age communities. Mountainous landscapes were often imbued with sacred qualities in prehistoric belief systems, representing places closer to the sky and the divine. High-altitude sites in Neolithic Britain provide compelling evidence of this association. Carn Ingli in Wales, for example, is thought to have served as a place of retreat or vision-questing, its elevation offering both seclusion and commanding views over the landscape (Cummings & Whittle, 2004). Similarly, while Silbury Hill is an artificial construct, its prominence in the landscape suggests an intentional effort to create an elevated focal point, mirroring natural sacred heights (Darvill, 2010). Bradley (2000) has explored how Neolithic and Bronze Age communities structured their sacred geographies in relation to upland and lowland contrasts, with elevated locations often functioning as places of ritual activity, observation, and ancestral memory.
The prominence of Snowdonia in the distance could have contributed to the selection of this site as a place of burial and ceremony, reinforcing its connection to broader cosmological and territorial concerns.
The Menai Strait, a narrow ribbon of water separating Anglesey from the mainland, posed both a barrier and a bridge for prehistoric peoples—its tidal currents were navigable by Mesolithic and Neolithic communities using dugout canoes or rafts, as evidenced by similar crossings in coastal Britain (Cummings & Whittle, 2004). This natural barrier created the Island of Anglesey and possibly reinforced its liminal sacred nature.
The Snowdonia Mountain range itself contains several significant prehistoric sites including the already mentioned axe factory at Graig Lwyd above Penmaenmawr. Close by is the Druids’ Circle, a Bronze Age stone circle situated on the eastern flanks of the mountains. This monument, along with other megalithic structures in the region, suggests that the mountains were an established focal point for industrial, ritual and ceremonial activity. Cairns, standing stones, and burial sites scattered across the range indicate a long tradition of sacred use, linking the highland sanctuaries with lowland ritual centres like Bryn Celli Ddu. The mountains provide a backdrop to the site, a sacred link to the sky and may have been an important sign of sanctity from the Mesolithic people long before those following memorialised them.
The interplay between the highlands and the lowlands is reinforced by the Afon Braint, which flows by Bryn Celli Ddu, carving a natural boundary between elevated ground of Snowdonia and the broader landscape of Anglesey. Rivers in prehistoric belief systems often symbolised liminality, marking the threshold between different realms—land and water, life and death, the known and the unknown. At Bryn Celli Ddu, the river’s presence between the mountains, the the monument and the blueschist outcrop itself may have emphasised this sense of liminal transition, making it an ideal setting for rites of passage, remembrance, and spiritual transformation.
The elements at play in this landscape—outcrop rock, tomb earth, river water, and mountain sky air—may have formed an interconnected web of meaning for the communities who used the site. To speculate further, perhaps the rock represents stability and permanence, the earth of the burial chamber the ancestors of the underworld within, the river a path of movement and change, and the sky the realm of the gods. The elements would be completed by ceremonial fire or light of torches and cremation. Not to mention astronomical alignments illuminating the inner sanctum at the solstice.
Standing at Bryn Celli Ddu, one is surrounded by these elements, reinforcing the notion that this was not just a place of burial but a point of convergence, where the natural and supernatural worlds met in an unbroken dialogue.
The Element of Fire at Bryn Celli Ddu
The notion of Bryn Celli Ddu as a confluence of stone, water, sky, and fire finds its spark in the traces of burning woven into the site’s history—flecks of charcoal and scorched earth uncovered within the chamber hint at cremation rites or ceremonial fires lit to honour the dead (Hemp 1930). These flames, whether from torches piercing the passage’s darkness or pyres reducing flesh to ash, would have danced against the blueschist walls, casting light and shadow in a ritual dialogue with the eternal stone, the flowing river, and the boundless sky overhead.
This presence of fire deepens the site’s elemental tapestry. The existance of ancient burnt areas near the entrance, possibly the remnants of a ritual pyre or hearth, suggesting that fire played a role not just in practical cremation but in transformative acts—perhaps purifying the space or guiding spirits skyward. In this liminal theater, fire bridged the earthly outside and the underworld within, completing the sacred elemental quartet that defined Bryn Celli Ddu’s enduring power.
The River of Privilege: The Afon Braint
The Afon Braint meanders through the heart of Anglesey, a lifeline that flows from the hills to the sea. Like Bryn Celli Ddu, it bears a name that may echo its prehistoric sanctity. In modern Welsh, braint translates to "privilege" or "honour," yet its roots may reach deeper into antiquity Some scholars, such as Anne Ross (1967), have suggested a connection to Brigantia, the Iron Age Celtic goddess associated with rivers, sovereignty, fertility, and healing. Whether this link reflects a genuine linguistic or cultural continuity from prehistory or is instead a later Celtic attribution remains uncertain, but the resonance of sacred waters across time is worth considering. Ross provides a tantalizing but unproven thesis. If genuine, Afon Braint was not merely a watercourse but a conduit of divine significance, woven into the sacred fabric of the landscape. Let us now turn to further evidence and speculation of the river’s importance to this landscape.
The Afon Braint originates from Llyn Llwydiarth, a secluded lake on Mynydd Llwydiarth in Pentraeth Forest, before splitting into two distinct branches—an uncommon feature that sets it apart. Its tidal nature, ebbing and flowing into the Menai Strait, further enhances its liminal quality. A river that is neither wholly fresh nor entirely saltwater, neither singular nor divided—such characteristics, speculative as they are, may have deepened its perceived significance in the eyes of the ancients.
While direct Neolithic parallels remain elusive, the relationship between rivers and monuments is well attested. At Durrington Walls and Stonehenge, the River Avon and the Avenue provided a processional link between key sites. The Thames and its tributaries form a corridor rich in prehistoric monuments, while Avebury stands near the source of the River Kennet, another watercourse with likely ritual significance. Further afield, the Boyne River at Newgrange and water cults in Italy and Malta illustrate an enduring association between sacred landscapes and water. Could the Braint have served a similar function, its shifting nature reinforcing its status as a threshold between worlds? While certainty remains beyond our reach, this interplay of landscape elements is worth considering.
I have explored this connection between water and cosmology in much greater depth here:
Folklore
In Welsh folklore, rivers often serve as enchanted boundaries, places where the veil between the mundane and the magical is at its thinnest. Symbolically, they function as pathways between realms—between life and death, the sacred and the profane, the natural and the supernatural. With its name hinting at divine connection and its unique bifurcation, Afon Braint may have been regarded as one such liminal passage.
One of England's rare legendary figures King was linked to stone and Water. He pulled a sword from a stone to prove his lineage and of course the Lady of the Lake presented Excalibur to Arthur. The motif of water as a mystical threshold is also found throughout Welsh legend. Consider Llyn y Fan Fach, where a lake serves as a portal for supernatural encounters, including the famed tale of the fairy bride. While this legend does not directly concern Afon Braint, it reflects a broader Celtic tradition in which rivers and lakes function as conduits between human and otherworldly realms. The same reverence for water may have influenced the positioning of Bryn Celli Ddu, reinforcing the idea that its placement was no accident but a deliberate engagement with the landscape’s sacred qualities.
The connection between Afon Braint and Neolithic activity is further underscored by the distribution of monuments along its course. Bryn Celli Ddu, one of the few henge monuments on Anglesey, is situated close to the river, as is the henge at Castell Bryn Gwyn and its associated standing stones. Further downstream, the Neolithic Bodowyr Burial Chamber and the possible Iron Age ritual site of Caer Lêb also lie adjacent to the river. This concentration of ritual and funerary monuments along the Braint suggests a sustained relationship between sacred architecture and flowing water, reinforcing the idea that the river played a role in shaping the spiritual landscape of Anglesey.
Afon Braint does not merely wind through the physical geography of Anglesey—it may also weave through its mythological and ritual past. Did the river itself contribute to the sanctification of this region? Positioned at a place where water, stone, and earth meet in harmony, Bryn Celli Ddu embodies the balance of these elemental forces. Was its significance, at least in part, a reflection of the landscape’s unique properties? Do you think the blueschist outcrop was the original sacred feature here, or was the river the true heart of this landscape?”
These are questions I leave for you to ponder. I welcome your thoughts—share them in the comments below.
Conclusion
To stand at Bryn Celli Ddu is to step into a dialogue between stone and time, where human hands shaped a living landscape. The blueschist, forged deep beneath ancient seas, rises now as chambered walls, its shimmering folds guarding the secrets of time and ritual, where the flicker of ancient fires once burned—their charcoal traces honours paid to the dead. The cup marks carved on the western outcrop and beyond whisper of a celestial code etched by hands long gone, a dialect of stars and seasons lost to us yet alive in the rock’s embrace. And beside these stones, the river flows.
The Afon Braint, quiet companion to this sacred ground, carves its tale through the earth. Was it a pathway for the dead, echoing the sun’s descent, or a conduit for offerings—pottery and flint laid near its banks, mingling past voices with present tides? Shaped by rock and river, by rain’s endless cycle and the Menai Strait’s tidal breath, all watched over by Snowdonia's sacred peaks, Bryn Celli Ddu rests where earth meets water, a place ancient minds deemed thin-veiled between worlds.
Bryn Celli Ddu endures not only through the labour of its builders or its alignments with sun and stone, but through its deep entanglement with something greater—a convergence where the bones of the earth, the flowing veins of the river, and the breath of the sky weave together to form a sacred body of meaning. Here, in this place, the elements—stone, water, fire, and air—moved in quiet accord, and the pulse of Anglesey, Mona’s spiritual axis mundi, still thrums with its ancient rhythm.
The choice of land was far from arbitrary, its setting weaving a wider sacred geography. Nestled amid geological wonders, watched by Snowdonia’s jagged peaks—silent witnesses to its sanctity—and cradled by an honoured river, the site reflects a prehistoric sophistication, blending the tangible with the spiritual into a legacy spanning millennia.
Part Four
Beyond earth, rock, and tide, Bryn Celli Ddu speaks of a wider cosmological story. Its standing stones and passage, aligned to catch the summer solstice light speak of the circles of time, renewal and ancestral ties, while the landscape’s unusual acoustics hint at lost chants or echoes of ritual from the Mesolithicto the Druidic ages.
In Part Four, we will chase these threads through traces of Druidic presence, remarkable light effects, sound, and a possible new discovery of a lost astronomical alignment here. Also research showing possible lost stone circles in the landscape at Bryn Celli Ddu. The layers are still being uncovered and here at Stone Temple Gardening we will bring you news as soon as it happens.
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Dr Alexander Peach, February/March 2025
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Peach, A. 2025. Stone Temple Gardening Blog https://www.stonetemplegardening.com/post/rivers-of-the-soul-the-sacred-springs-and-waterways-of-neolithic-and-bronze-age-europe
I love reading your stories about the magickal lands and their connection to the people who lived there and how they honoured the land itself and the mountains and rivers and rocks. Wonderful!