The Millennium Stone Fiasco

Brian John
An extract from Chapter Three of The Bluestone Enigma (Greencroft Books, 2008, 160 pp, 9.95)
This is a sad tale of a bluestone which was apparently jinxed.
Fourteen years after the event, we can look back on what happened
with more than a little amusement, but at the time the stone was the
key component in a serious piece of experimental archaeology,
designed to demonstrate how 82 bluestones might have been
transported from the far west of Wales to Stonehenge by our
Neolithic ancestors.
In the year 2000 at least 100,000 was spent on the
Millennium Stone Project in Pembrokeshire, in which it was
planned to transport a single block of bluestone from near
Mynachlogddu (the closest village to Carn Meini) to
Stonehenge, using the techniques on land and over water that
might have been familiar to Neolithic tribal groups. The
organizers (a community initiative called Menter Preseli)
claimed that the objectives were to celebrate the millennium,
to focus on community engagement and to raise the prole of
Pembrokeshire. However, it was inevitable that the media,
and Stonehenge watchers generally, saw it as something
much more signicant -- and even scientic.
In April 2000, project organizer Philip Bowen and geologist
Sid Howells found a perfect bluestone lying conveniently in
a farmer's eld near Mynachlogddu, close to the road and some distance from its natural outcrop in the
Preseli Hills. It was about the right size, and was long, slender and slightly bulbous at one end. Its estimated
weight was 3 tonnes. The initial plan was to move the stone on wooden rollers --- but, as the project relied
on using volunteers, that was vetoed for health and safety reasons. It was a London engineer, Nick Price,
who came up with the idea of using a large wooden sled with ropes and two 6 m long poles to use as levers.
The stone would be attached to the sled with heavy duty nylon rope, and the pullers would work in pairs,
using wooden bars and connecting ropes. They would not pull, but push on the crossbars at chest height,
always facing forward, with the sled sliding smoothly along behind. The levers would be used to help the
stone. It was estimated that 25 pullers would be adequate for most of the time, but with more drafted in for
steep hill-climbs. Following a trial, it was calculated that the stone could be dragged in this fashion for
about three miles in a day. The plan was to reach the Eastern Cleddau River in a week or so, using around 30
volunteers. That was changed when it was realized that volunteers in sufcient quantity would only be
available during weekends. So the pulling would be done for the most part on Saturdays and Sundays. The
stone would be parked up and guarded during the other days of each working week. Nonetheless, the
ambition was to cover the whole 240-mile journey (including the river and sea stretches) to Stonehenge in
about six months, allowing for spells of bad weather and inactivity.
The plan, as it evolved, was based quite closely on the suggestions of Richard Atkinson many years
earlier. There would be three segments to the bluestone journey. First, an overland pull of about 17 miles.
Second, a down-river journey to Milford Haven and a coastal voyage (with stopping-off points in
Carmarthen, Swansea and Cardiff) up the Bristol Channel and across to Avonmouth, near Bristol. From
there the huge stone was to be carried in a Third Stage, by barge along the River Avon and the Kennet and
Avon canal before being dragged the nal 26 miles to Stonehenge. On arrival it would be blessed by Druids
at the autumn solstice in September.
Things started to go wrong almost immediately. At 4 pm on the rst day of pulling the organizers
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stopped and realised that the
distance travelled had been only
one mile. Now that was a
sobering moment, said Philip
Bowen. The major problem
was that the sled didn't move on
the modern road surfaces......
A low-friction nylon net was
found to help, but almost all of
the pulling route had to be on 17
miles of roads and public access
lanes. There was no genuine
cross-country transport at all.
But there was gradual progress,
and great cameraderie among
the pullers. The stone was
affectionally christened Elvis
Preseli.
All of the volunteers had
to be listed, checked in and out,
and allocated pulling days. The
insurers insisted that the pullers
should not dress up in their
Neolithic outts, and that they should wear gloves when pulling and pushing. Moving the stone also meant
that the organizers needed back-up facilities provided by the police, re service, council workmen, St John's
Ambulance staff, local transport companies, safety experts, divers and the armed forces. Then there were
portaloos, quad bikes, lorries and catering supplies. That all cost money. A massive logistical exercise was
made even more difcult by terrible weather conditions. Although things got tough and the project fell
further and further behind schedule, the enthusiasm of most the pullers (myself included!) never faltered.
But pulling was very hard work. Along with the volunteers from all over the UK, people turned up to help
from Europe and even from Australia. A magician called Mystic Merlin, dressed in full regalia, was in
attendance for most of the pull, and did his fair share of strenuous pulling. But some pullers did go missing
after a few days of working in the rain, and as exhaustion set in. Philip and his team found it difcult to nd
the numbers needed to keep the act on the road.
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Low-friction nylon netting is brought in to assist in the
sliding of the sledge on asphalt surfaces.
The pullers (or pushers) moving the stone on its sledge, on an easy section of roadway.
Then something happened which
caused real frustration and anger.
When the team turned up for the day
of the penultimate pull near the
village of Llawhaden they found that
a tribal marauding party had struck!
Someone had managed to lift the
stone off its sled, presumably using
farm machinery. The sled itself had
disappeared. The police were called,
and the media loved the story. A
search party was sent out, and
fortunately, one of the volunteers
found the sled in a nearby wood. A
crane had to be hired to put the stone
back on its Neolithic conveyance.
When things had calmed down, the
pull continued, and at last the weary
warriors reached Blackpool Mill, near
the head of navigation on the Eastern
Cleddau River, on 29th May 2000.
The rst stretch of the journey had
taken more than a month to complete,
with ve weekends of pulling. The
plan was that there should now be a
rendezvous with two magnicent
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Luckily, nobody was injured when the
sledge and its precious load went out of
control on a hill near Llawhaden. There
was no effective braking system.....
One of the splendid curraghs built by Ron Rees. Two
were built. They were designed to be propelled by eight
rowers.
custom-built curraghs made by Ray
Rees in Carmarthen. They would be
roped together to form a sort of
pontoon, and would be moved by ten
experienced rowers, ve on each side.
Instead of mounting the stone on a
platform well above the water-line (as in
the 1954 Atkinson experiment) it was
decided that there would be greater
stability if the stone was slung beneath
the water line, with the weight
supported on beams across the decks of
the two vessels.
At Blackpool Mill the stone (still
on its sledge) was slid on rollers down
into the water. That proved a very
difcult task, even on a nicely sloping
piece of river bank. The stone was tied
up with heavy-duty webbing slings and
had oats and buoys attached. The plan
was that the curraghs would then come
up on the tide, pick up the stone and
transport it downstream to Milford
Haven. However, it transpired that
after heavy rain the tidal currant was
too strong for the curraghs to be rowed
up-river, even on a rising tide, so they
had to be towed by an inatable safety
boat with a powerful outboard engine.
At last they were manoeuvred into
position near the shore, and after many
failed attempts to pick up the stone,
modern technology had to be called in
again. A heavy lift crane was hired to
lift the stone into deeper water where
the curraghs could position themselves
directly over it. Then the crane got
bogged down and had to be pulled out
by a JCB. With the tide now falling, the
curraghs had to be tied up overnight.
On the next high tide the volunteers and
safety experts resumed work, and nally
(with the intervention of modern
technology) managed to lift the stone off
the bed of the river and sling it between
and beneath the two curraghs. On the
high tide, to the accompaniment of great
cheers, the stone was moved to the
centre of the river and carried down-
river to Milford Haven on June 3rd.
Then another catastrophe
occurred when the voyage from the
sheltered waters of Milford Haven
commenced, with the prospect of open
sea ahead. The bluestone was strapped
between the two boats in its sling and
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The two curraghs xed together at Blackpool Bridge,
with the supporting platform ready to receive the
stone.
The stone is hauled over Blackpool Bridge. Note that
the pullers are working two abreast, with four ropes
in use.
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Levers had to be used frequently during the pull, to ensure that the sledge did not deviate
from its proper route. Nevertheless, there was much swinging to right and left.........
A heavy lift crane is used at Blackpool Mill, to move the stone into the water of the
Eastern Cleddau River.
seemed perfectly secure. But in awful
weather conditions, and with a BBC
documentary team in attendance, the rowers
found it increasingly difcult to make
headway, and there were thoughts of
retreating back intthe shelter of the
waterway. Then, as the rowers encountered
the swell coming in through the heads of
the waterway a section of heavy nylon
strapping snapped. The ill-fated stone
slipped out of its sling and and came to rest
on the sea bed, in the middle of a major
shipping lane. There was more national
media coverage, and sections of the media
referred gleefully to the bluestone jinx..
Divers went down in 20m of water and
eventually managed to locate the stone.
Eleven days later a salvage team raised it
with a oating crane. The stone was placed
on the deck of a salvage vessel and returned
to dry land in Milford Docks.
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A team of divers tried to recover the stone from
the bed of Milford Haven
Safe again! The stone is recovered from the depths and is slung onto a pontoon, to be
delivered back to Milford Docks.
Worse was to follow. While the stone was still parked on the quayside ready for the journey out into
the Celtic Sea and up the Bristol Channel, the organizers had to confront further problems. The curragh
pontoon and sling technique was abandoned on the grounds that if it did not work in a slight swell inside
Milford haven it would certainly not work in the open sea. A new barge was brought in, but it was found
that the stone would not sit safely on its deck. Then the project insurers withdrew their backing and the
project ground to a halt. In a welter of recrimination, accusations were levelled at the local authority, the
organizers and even the National Lottery Heritage Fund for a massive waste of 100,000. There were
rumours that the real cost of the exercise was a great deal more than that, and that the Lottery was asking for
its money back. In reality they never did pay more than 53,000, and the rest of the funds came (in various
convoluted ways) from public funds via the County Council. There was nothing more that could be done.
With the funding exhausted, Menter Preseli was wound up. Long-suffering organizer Philip Bowen moved
on to other work, and the stone was stranded in its safety enclosure near Milford Docks for more than two
years. At long last, in January 2003, the bluestone got a new home in the National Botanic Garden of Wales.
There was no Neolithic pantomime this time. Off it went on its at-bed truck. On arrival it was blessed by a
druid, and it is still there to this day.
It would be uncharitable to call the Millennium Stone Project an unmitigated disaster, since it gave
people a lot of fun and kept the media gainfully employed. Some people became very angry about the
perceived waste of public money -- but there were other Millennium Projects that were much more futile
and badly run. On balance, looking at things from a scientic standpoint, I think the money was well spent.
Far from proving that the human transport theory was sound, the exercise proved to be far beyond the
capacity of the organizers, even with the assistance of willing helpers, asphalted roads, and a vast array of
modern machines, specialist materials and and communications technology. It led many people to the
conclusion that the transport of one smallish 3-tonne bluestone monolith, let alone 80 or so, would have been
incredibly difcult, if not impossible, around 5,500 years ago, no matter what romantic ideas some
archaeologists might hold sacred.
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Thanks to Iain Sewell for the photographs used in this article
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