The Heal Stone at Dawn on Summer Solstice -
photo: (C) Mogg Morgan of Mandrake
Instinctively, the people of this country know, that the place to be on the summer solstice is Stonehenge in Wiltshire. But sadly, since 1986, the government has allowed the site to be sealed off to the public for a distance of three miles. Anyone breaking this order is liable to arrest and prosecution. Such draconian measures required a great deal of police time and muscle but the last Tory government thought this a worthy use of taxpayer’s money, if only as a demonstration of their iron will. Lesser members of the establishment, including archeologists and the quango English Heritage seemed happy to support this diktat for reasons, some good, some bad, of their own. Many of us hoped that with the change of government and also an audit of the massive costs involved, that something, sooner or later would have to give. It was only a matter of time, and sure enough, this year, the exclusion zone was lifted and the police presence was scaled down.
Friends of mine, who remembered the free festival at Stonehenge with a halcyon glow, thought now was the time to vote with our feet and make the pilgrimage. After work on Sunday we drove down to Avebury for the evening. Avebury has been the sanctuary of many refugees from Stonehenge for several years now, There’s something like an unofficial pagan festival with no amplified music, just drumming, no fires and the pub closed at 10.30, so who says pagans can’t be reasonable and responsible? We sat in the western quarter, watching the stars come out and drumming along with the salsa band. It was a magical night and I looked up at the Plough, my favourite constellation, and wondered why I was planning to leave at midnight for what might turn out to be a bit of an ordeal.
We drove down the old 360 from Devizes so we would approach the circle from the West. We half expected the police to do something stupid and thought if they did stop us it might be better to be on the western side of the circle where the best views of the sunrise are to be had. I was later to pity those forced by circumstances to stay on the less spectacular eastern fence and wondered why they couldn’t have been allowed at least to one of the fields on the western side. Its a shame no-one had thought to point out this potentially peacemaking information to English Heritage. The police had blocked the road just after Shrewton and we parked up along with about a hundred others, travellers buses, tents, little cooking fires, altogether a very pleasant atmosphere as we drank cups of tea and waited for the off.
At about two thirty the police activity suddenly went up a gear. We could see a helicopter flying over Stonehenge shining a searchlight, the red lights of it’s infrared-camera flashing continually like some secret laser weapon. Police re-enforcements arrived in riot vans, several vans with dogs, paramedics, fire-engines and plain-clothes policemen. We all of us knew something must be going down at the circle and wondered whether the police would now prevent us walking the last mile to the object of our quest.
Thanks the gods we did get through at about three o'clock, four of us and shoni the dog. It was fun walking down the dark and silent main road, in front of us and behind were many other apprehensive pilgrims moving through the starry night. We walked past an unofficial camp site and ominously someone said ‘you’re going into Beirut’ - and after a pause in which we made no reply ‘you think I’m joking’. We came up to the second police line just before the circle. They wouldn’t let us through, we had to climb the style at the side and came out directly behind them - it was the first of many ludicrous police instructions. We joined the growing crowd of newcomers on the east sector of the outer bank and ditch that surrounds the stones themselves. We could see people on top of the giant trilithons and a crowd in the circle surrounded by the lowering shapes of police horsemen, their blue lights flashing to and fro. So we learnt that at about 2.30am, a large group of pilgrims had torn down the fence and occupied the circle, some climbing up onto the lintels to evade the police. Eventually those unlucky enough to be still on the ground were bullied and pushed by the police out of the circle to join us back on the bank. The police horsemen lined up in front of us, backed up by police in riot gear and flanked by five dog handlers. The later intermittently made their dogs bark and menace the crowd. I could see that our situation was actually quite precarious, if the police moved forward we would be forced down the steep bank behind and many, including dogs and small children, would fall and be injured. I thought I’d rather take my chances somewhere else.
I stepped across the ruined fence and holding up my camera I sidled over to the north. I took a couple of shots but I’d come to photograph the dawn and the light was too dark for my camera. But interestingly I noticed that with my camera I was invisible to the riot police and I walked between them and kept going until I was safely in the west of the circle. Many others did the same thing. The police seemed so intent on one small group that they’d trapped by the fence that they ignored many hundreds of others who now walked into the circle from all directions, including across the fields from the A303.
I’d really come to Stonehenge to take photographs of the stones, although I’d brought a little instrument to join in with any drummers when I’d run out of film. The best place to photograph the sunrise would be from the bank on the western side and about fifty, journalists and earth mysteries people had already found this spot. But as dawn approached, and the number of trespassers increased, the police retreated into the inner circle to make their last stand. They seemed so protective of this tiny inner space I wondered if maybe they were going to do the sunrise ritual for us! Unfortunately their presence and that of those who followed them blocked off the eastern trilithon gateway and any view of the ‘heal’ stone, so there were few opportunities for a view from where I was, so I went into the circle too. I’m sure if the police had left and a leaflet had explained that the best view would come by standing back from the circle on the western side, that people would have done that. But the police and English heritage had ‘intelligence’ reports (from whom I wonder?) But used very little intelligence.
In the circle things were quite boisterous. In the main the atmosphere was good humoured, some verbal abuse and banter. Most tried to find a view to see the sunrise and all of us hoped that the police would chill out until after the sunrise now jus t a few minutes away. But no, they wanted to clear the circle and tried lots of completely reckless tactics. They formed up in lines and pushed us out, but we flowed out though the trilithons and re-emerged behind them, it was a farce. Then they tried dog handlers, I saw a young girl in a flimsy dress standing on the slaughter stone as a burly man tried to persuade his large alsation dog to lunge onto the stone and snarl at her. She was braver than him and stood her ground. I felt I had to take pictures of all this, I thought it might restrain the police from going too far if they knew that somewhere it was being recorded. Don’t ask me why they didn’t push me out of the circle, somehow I had acquired a hands off status, like several other journalists who’d made it there - mainly stills photographers, hence the paucity of film footage from inside the circle and the misunderstandings that have since arisen with those still penned up by the police outside the eastern fence.
Sometimes I looked around and saw someone being tripped or roughed up by the riot police, but to be honest its not the worst I’ve seen. The police have been reigned in a lot since the baton swinging days of the Miner’s strike, Greenham Common and the Poll Tax riots. The sun was well up now and we whooped and called and wondered when this much heralded Druid ritual was going to start. If the police had backed off for a little while, that could have happened. But the Druids were still on the roadway and had made no effort to enter the circle by the easy unguarded routes as so many others had. Perhaps having promised to behave and having accepted tickets and the assurance from the police that they be alright, they felt duty bound to stick by the rules, even though they were English Heritage’s rules, not their own . I wandered around outside taking pictures - sometimes coming on a little group of pagans doing their own ritual, or someone deep in meditation or playing the didge to the stones. Someone had a giant Tibetan trumpet that they wound continually. A young child who had been on top of one of the stones cried in fear, ‘mummy’, and all barriers were dropped, enmities forgotten, as security guards and the ‘great unwashed’, moulded together to rescue him. A savage bull terrier attacked a women’s fluffy dog and there was a horrible fight until some ‘drug crazed hippy’ waded in and very bravely grabbed both dogs in his strong arms and pulled them apart.
Then a strange silence as a beautiful naked woman strode out of the crowd and lay down on the one of the recumbent stones. It seemed the ultimate protest and reclaiming of the site. Her body so vulnerable yet the riot police with all their body armour and riot shields were powerless before her. I don’t know who she was but for me she summed up the moral strength of nonviolent and direct action - and I was happy to be there and felt that this year, for once, the solstice really had been celebrated in style. I’m sure next year there will be even more people, many, I know, stayed away because of fear of the police, and some of the wild rumours circulating about what would or wouldn’t go down. Well now you know, hope to see you there - happy solstice. - mogg
I have more photographs in the Mandrake archive if anyone is interested.