Deep Digs: Pobull Fhinn and its Multi-Vocal Landscape
Hello! And Welcome to Deep Digs!
Welcome to Deep Digs!
Deep Digs are all about sitting down in a comfy chair, grabbing a cuppa, and learning a wee bit about the archaeology, mythology, and impact these archaeological sites have had on the Scottish landscape.
Each candle we make is inspired by archaeology—be it sites, artefacts, landscapes, or even the history behind the landmark. Whenever I make up a candle, I always start at the basics and spread out. Usually down a deep hole (heh, archaeology joke) into the archaeological records of the site and the cultural impact that site has on the community around it.
Standing Stones invoke a lot of feelings for many people. They’re enduring, somewhat mystical, and are seen a lot in modern media as transportive places. Thanks, Jamie Fraser. There’s a lot more to standing stones than the romantic ideas they currently invoke. They’re part of a larger ritual and cultural landscape that constantly changing and altering.
The Standing Stone collection was my first collection. It means a lot to me and so I thought, what a great place to start. And so, today, we’re digging into one particular site, Pobull Fhinn.
Pobull Fhinn, looking to the south-east towards Loch Langais
Site Location
Pobull Fhinn is located immediately north of the Loch Langass, North Uist. Outer Hebrides. It sits 50 feet above sea-level on the southern slope of Ben Langass.
The site itself lies on a terraced hill. The terrace was excavated into the hillside to the north-west of Beinn Langais and the material was spread outwards, creating the platform and steep edge to the south-west, down to the loch. The stones themselves have been placed to the outer edges of this terrace and although they have been termed as a stone-circle, they aren’t exactly circular (RCAHMS, 1928). They are in fact oval— how daring! —measuring 120ft in diameter.
They comprise of twenty-four stones, eight on the northern slope and sixteen on the southern (Everidge, 1911). Many of the stones today are covered in bracken, hidden beneath the heather, and are difficult to locate today. The north-eastern side is mostly devoid of stones. It is unknown if they are missing or where never there to begin with.
Pobull Fhinn has never been excavated and so we know very little about the site other than information collection via numerous field surveys and visits. As with many prehistoric sites, there are a number of different interpretations. Let’s dig into one of them now.
A Wee Theory: It’s Always Ritual
As stated, a few smaller investigations have taken place on the site. In 2009, a small watching brief was undertaken by Uist Archaeology for the widening of the main road and construction of the gravel footpath leading up to the site. Only four gravel pits were uncovered during the works but nothing of archaeological significance was uncovered during the works.
However, the site itself has been extensively altered for the placement of the stones. This amount of physically intense work tells us that Pobhull Fhinn is a significant and important feature within the landscape. Additionally, Pobhull Fhinn neighbours some key prehistoric sites in the area. Barpa Langass, the Neolithic chambered cairn, lies to the north-west on the northerly side of Ben Langass, while the Langass stones lie to the north-east. A cist, aptly named Fionn’s Grave lies only 200m to the east of Pobull Fhinn (See location map, figure 1).
One suggestion is that the circle may be indicating short, yet calendar alignments to other neighbouring sites. Apart from the proximity to other prehistoric and Neolithic sites, I couldn’t find any evidence to support this theory—and most scholars seem to indicate that it is much debated but that the site has been chosen specifically and with intention (Thom, Thom and Burl, 1980).
However, it’s extremely interesting that the site has panoramic views, especially towards the south-east. Here, you can see the low hills of Eaval and South Lee that frame the distant mountains of MacLeod’s Tables and even to Glamaig, both prominent features on the Isle of Skye. It could be that the proximity of other Neolithic sites indicates a prehistoric ritual landscape and the position of Pobull Fhinn indicates a larger belief system which could align to larger monuments further afield.
Translation: it’s probably ritual.
(Pssst. That means they’re not too sure, but it’s pretty fricken’ cool!)
Figure 1: Map showing locations of prehistoric sites across the landscape, North Uist
Mythological Landscape: Finn’s People and the White Folk
As we’ve already established, Pobull Fhinn has been rooted into the landscape since the Neolithic and possibly has connections to a larger prehistoric landscape across Uist. However, one thing still needs to be discussed—its name.
It has three names. Each in Scottish Gaelic—Pobull Fhinn. Poball Fhinn. Sornach Coir' Fhinn.
They all mean different things, and of course, I’ll tell you about that in just a few lines. But first, do you spot the reoccurring word?
Fhinn.
What is Fhinn? Or should I say, who is Fhinn?
Fionn Mac Cumhaill is a Gaelic hero that you’ve most likely bumped into if you’ve travelled around Scotland and stopped off to see some of its sites—his name is everywhere. Why, I hear you ask?
In the Irish mythologies, there are four major cycles, the Mythological Cycle, the Fenian Cycle, the Ulster Cycle, and the Historical Cycle. It’s the second one we are interested in today. In Scotland, it’s mostly known as the Ossianic Cycle—named after its narrator, Ossian (Irish: Oisín). Ossian is the traditional bard of the Gaels, who migrated from Ireland into Scotland during the Early Medieval period.
Side Note: You might know a little bit about the Kingdom of the Gaels if you have ever visited their capital, Dunadd. Incidentally, you have them to thank for the term ‘Scotland’ really—or should I say those pesky Romans who dubbed the Gaelic speaking folk as Scotti, a term they applied liberally to both Irish or Scots quite confusingly (Campbell, 1999).
(Also, Scotti possibly means pirates. I don’t think those Latin writers were particularly complimentary of the Gaels, do you?)
Anyway, back to our mythologies. Ossian, as well as being the best bard around (soz, Dandelion) is the son of our warrior friend, Fionn Mac Cumhaill. Ossian tells the story of his father and his band of ruthless warriors, the Fianna, who lived in the forests as mercenaries, bandits, and hunters.
Then why on earth is he attached to the name of Neolithic standing stones on Uist?
Well, the placename Pobull Fhinn/Poball Fhinn stem from the same root. Poball Fhinn possibly means ‘Fionn’s people’, ‘Finn’s people’, ‘the white/fair people’ or ‘Finn’s tent’ and relates to our meaty, silver-haired protagonist, Mr. MacKool.
The second is Sornach Coir' Fhinn meaning ‘the fireplace of Finn’s cauldron.’ This is similar to other Neolithic sites found around islands in Scotland, such as Sòrnaichean Coir' Fhinn (‘the fireplaces of Fionn's cauldron’) near Kensaleyre in Skye and Suidhe Coire Fhionn (‘the site of Fionn's cauldron’) in Arran.
Each site is attached to the mythology of the Ossian cycle, even if its often a story of Fionn and his warriors camping down for the night, setting up a tent, or tucking into a nicely-seasoned venison dish that sat in a pot between two of Pobull Fhinn’s stones to cook over a nice, cosy fire. Oh, did I forget to mention Fionn is a giant? Makes more sense why you would use standing stones as a fireplace now, eh?
Simply put, throughout Scotland—commonly within the Hebrides— you find sites that related to the Scottish Gaelic mythologies and cycles—be they natural formations like caves or mountains, or prehistoric sites that dot the landscape. Fionn Mac Cumhail is part of a cultural landscape and is intertwined with prehistory, that reuses and reforms these important stories into the fabric of Scotland.
Gosh, now I’m beginning to sound romantic now! Let’s go into some theory now—stepping back into my comfort zone. And it will also tell you a little bit about the idea of landscapes and the supposed making of them.
Understanding the Archaeological Landscape
Landscape can be a funny word when we discuss archaeology. Often, it means either the natural landscapes surrounding a site or the ritual landscape that the site is part of. Now, these are really two easy translatable ideas and one that separates the cultural from the natural or vice versa (Bender, 1992). As archaeologists, we often fall either side of the fence—the cultural and the natural, but is that really how people engaged with the landscape?
Most likely, not.
We can see people place stories and values onto the landscape, engaging with it differently as time passes. The archaeological landscape is important when looking at the nature of prehistoric sites and human experience. Engaging with landscapes is a complicated study and can be very fluid when we look at how people engage with their landscapes. Engagement is influenced by historical conditions—who they were, how they identified, and what they believed in. Landscapes are vocal and, really, multi-vocal at that. How we see something depends on the people we are, what we believe, and how we interact within our own culture or society. So is human experience tied to the landscape, or the landscape tied to human experience?
Tricky.
Our own human experiences are not unified to one bodily or human experience. The sensory accounts of archaeologists visiting sites are often reflections of a solitary, able-bodied male (Johnson, 2012). To say that the experiences of this person equate to the experiences of every person or group in prehistory who visited or built Pobull Fhinn would run risk of silencing many, not only in the past, but in our society today. Much of the literature on the physical experiences of a site do not reflect the reality of these sites. So, we must look at other perspectives and experiences to understand the vocality of landscapes.
Simply put, this means step outside of your expectations of a site. When we often visit a historical site, its often guided or you have an idea of what it is. You chose to visit, so you have an interest—or you’ve been dragged along unwittingly by an over-enthusiastic friend or partner. You most likely are there for the day or a few hours, you have a backpack full of sandwiches, you might have a compass or map if you’re the organised type. How many people are you going with? Just yourself or a couple of friends? Do you have expectations of the site? Is it quiet or loud? Do you have the right pair of shoes on? What’s the weather like? Ah! It’s raining and you’ve forgotten your waterproof coat!
You see what I’m trying to do. You’re set in your scene and your experience, but your experience isn’t the same as everyone else who has visited before you. Maybe they wore the right shoes. Maybe they had children with them. Maybe they have a mobility issue and the terrain is uneven. Maybe they arrived a few hours before you and the sun was out. On the very basic level, they’re going to have a very different experience to you.
Try to apply that to prehistoric people. How did they engage with the landscape? If we take the theory of seasonal alignments, then were they travelling in larger groups and moving across the landscape to visit each site. Did others from other areas travel to these sites from other islands and places? Did they have children with them? How did the move in and around the landscape and how did the shape of the landscape impact their choices and movements? And did they pack a lunch or sandwiches?
All of these questions are simply scraping the beginning of understanding our landscapes. Landscapes aren’t frozen, they’re impacted upon but also, they influence our own human experience. Landscapes ever-evolving and constantly fluid. Our own experiences and values often impact how we see the landscape. What we see today is not how the landscape was seen thousands of years ago. I haven’t even mentioned environmental change since that is a whole other aspect to the landscape that is worth it’s own blog post.
I hope you didn’t come here for answers as I never really intended to answer these questions! They’re open to interpretation really, but what I wanted to do with this blog post was share with you why I picked the site of Pobull Fhinn as one of our candle inspirations.
It’s truly a remarkable site. There is something very unassuming about the place, but at the same time, the more you look, the more you see.
Okay, I feel bad for not answering ALL of these questions so maybe I can hazard a guess at one of them. Definitely sandwiches—and I would think peanut butter.
Or not.
Bibliography
Bender, B. 1992. Theorising Landscapes, and the Prehistoric Landscapes of Stonehenge. Man. 27. Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland. 735-755.
Beveridge, E. 1911 North Uist: its archaeology and topography, with notes upon the early history of the Outer Hebrides. Edinburgh. 259-60 RCAHMS
Campbell, E., 1999. Saints and sea-kings. Edinburgh: Canongate Books.
Driscoll, S. and Brown, C., 2002. Alba. Edinburgh: Birlinn.
Johnson, M. H. 2012. Phenomenological Approaches in Landscape Archaeology. Annual Review of Anthropology. 41. 269-284
RCAHMS. 1928 The Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments and Constructions of Scotland. Ninth report with inventory of monuments and constructions in the Outer Hebrides, Skye and the Small Isles. Edinburgh. 83.
Ritchie and Harman, G and M. 1996 Argyll and the Western Isles, Exploring Scotland's Heritage series, ed. by Anna Ritchie. 2nd. Edinburgh. 24, 137, 146
Thom, Thom and Burl, A, A S and A. 1980 Megalithic rings: plans and data for 229 monuments in Britain, Brit Archaeol Rep, BAR British, 81. Oxford. 310-11
