Un-henged

The Roving Sheep of Avebury!

Planning our trip to the U.K. in 2024, Stonehenge was on our must-see list. Who wouldn’t be mesmerized by those massive stones, set ages ago in a mysterious pattern on a plain?  As someone who finds hoisting my 19-month-old grandson Dimitri a heavy lift (and he’s NOT a big baby), I am so impressed by these prehistoric folks, locating those huge boulders (from God knows where) transporting them (God knows how) to this little corner of Southwest England, and aligning them with the sun, as part of some religious ritual. Wow! 

But apparently every tourist on earth has the same idea. After we read about the endless parade of tour buses, we realized that Stonehenge would NOT be a mystical spiritual experience--not with a jillion people, plus their iPhones, jostling for space. So, we focused instead on a lesser-known “henge,” Avebury.

 

 “A-henge” (my affectionate, made-up nickname for it), is an equally baffling collection of equally large stones, but spread out over more acreage. Another plus—it was much closer to where we were staying (Bibury).

 

Still, when the time came to drive over and check it out, I hesitated. For one thing, it was a dreary, drizzly afternoon. For another thing, while Steve had done an amazing job navigating the very narrow, winding country roads in a rented car, on the left side of the road to boot, I was weary of being the wind beside his driver’s seat. He’d never admit it, but it was ME who kept us from crashing into stone walls and running over random sheep.  My method was simple but ingenious—I constantly leaned my body waaay over, indicating where the car needed to be. While I didn’t actually SEE our vehicle obey my body-language commands, the results spoke for themselves!

 

Anyhoo, we arrived at the site, only to discover that we were virtually alone. Sure, the misty rain probably dampened (get it?) visitor enthusiasm that day, but still--it was just me, my hubby, and some random sheep (most likely the EXACT same sheep whose lives I had saved earlier!) We moved slowly among the stones, silently, reverently. We were enchanted, and felt a strange but genuine connection to the ancient Aveburians (Aveburites?) and this, their sacred place of worship. 

 

I would highly recommend A-henge, but of course if you ALL went there, it’d soon be ruined like S-henge! So, just forget I wrote about it!

 

Good news though, there’s another henge of note, much closer to home! It’s Manhattanhenge, a remarkable annual phenomenon when the setting sun perfectly aligns with the east-west street grid, creating a glowing canyon of light running through midtown Manhattan. 

 

Some future day, our descendants will move, silently, reverently, past the vast empty skyscrapers lining the streets of what used to be NYC. They will marvel at Manhattanhenge, and they will guess that the ancient peoples worshipped Saks Fifth Avenue and Grand Central Station, and brought offerings from Ess-a-Bagel to appease their gods. 

 

And they won’t be wrong.