Dungeon Glen

Explorer Tom Main Water of Luce has a building where the original architect was probably thinking about lunch while laying the final stone. That’s my theory anyway, because otherwise why is it so lopsided? It’s got that classic 'I’ll finish it tomorrow' energy that we all know too well from our own garages. If it's closed, admire it from the road like a polite stalker.

Explorer Tom Barnvannoch is like a group chat where everyone says 'maybe' and nobody commits to anything specific. If it had to teach history, it would just shrug and say 'vibes matter more than dates,' which is actually quite profound for a pile of rocks. It’s got that unbothered chill about it. Hang around long enough and you'll hear a story from a local.

Explorer Tom Stab Hill is again, this time pretending to be deep and mysterious while sitting in plain sight. The secret it would tell after a few pints is that nobody actually knows what a cairn is for. If anyone asks about your visit, just say Tom sent you because he’s always vague.

Explorer Tom A local priest once lost a bet here and had to eat a turnip for a week, which explains the sour mood of the rocks. Craigs of the Stane Fauld is full of sheepfolds that look like they’re plotting something against the grass. The structures are sturdy enough to hold a grudge. Whisper a secret at it, it's kept worse.

Explorer Tom Laganabeastie Hill has a cairn that might exist, which is the kind of uncertainty that drives me absolutely nuts. Its rules for visitors are basically 'guess what I am,' and if you get it wrong, you owe it a sandwich. It’s got that mysterious vibe that makes you want to check your pockets for snacks. Go on a wet day, it suits the mood.

Explorer Tom Laganabeastie has a curse on it that only affects people who don’t wave at the sheepfolds. It’s got a head dyke from after the medieval period, which sounds fancy until you see how much mud is involved. The farmstead just stands there waiting for an apology. Stop the car, it's worth the hazard lights.