Ground zero for intrigue

Enlarge Image

Crop circles, more accurately, agriglyphs or pictograms are seen in aerial views. (POSTMEDIA)

The lingering midsummer twilight filtered through the window into the upstairs chamber of the farmhouse B & B as my sister and I settled into our twin beds.

Before turning off the light, she asked me, "What do you want for your birthday?" reminding me that tomorrow I would officially transition into the middle age of 40.

Pondering a moment, when nothing tangible came to mind, I jokingly replied, "How about a crop circle? That would be just fine," and after a long day we quickly drifted off to sleep.

At the crack of dawn, I was shaken awake by my sister exclaiming, "Get up! Look out the window."

I sat up and there across the field on the lower slope of a hill, etched with one of Wiltshire's famed chalk white horses, beckoned a pristine crop circle. We threw on our clothes and rushed out the door and, in the dawn's waxing light, beelined along the tractor line through the knee-high barley towards this exquisite mystery I sensed was meant just for me.

Fifteen years passed since my auspicious crop-circle experience -- a formation that, despite my repeated searching and inquiries, has never appeared in any photo, book or website -- and as my 56th birthday approached, I decided to fulfil my dream of spending the summer among these crop formations, along with the colourful cast of characters who chase them.

Though this phenomenon enjoyed its 15 minutes of fame in the 1990s, dozens of these often-complex geometric patterns still appear every summer. Notorious pensioners Doug Bower and Dave Chorley have claimed credit for some pedestrian formations (Google them for details) but, despite night watches by researchers and irate farmers who offered a bounty, circle-makers are rarely, if ever, caught in the act and the mystery remains.

Crop circles -- more accurately, agriglyphs or pictograms -- were the reason I ventured into Wiltshire, and ground zero was the Silent Circle, a café and bookshop in Yatesbury, about 130 kilometres west of London.

It was started by crop-circle researcher Charles Mallett, who explained sightings filter in from passing vehicles or pilots scouting the landscape. Like storm chasers, once an approximate location is established, a carload of "croppies" heads out to find it.

A new one had been discovered that day, so I drove to East Kennet and parked. The midsummer sun lingered along the horizon as I walked up the tractor line to the formation. While some sleuths experience swoops of energy inside circles, anything subtle I might have felt was overwhelmed by mere excitement.

Reverently walking the perimeter, I eventually discerned its arcing quadrennial form. Though I was initially disappointed by the seemingly uneven lay of the crop, later aerial photos revealed a lovely Celtic Cross, the interplay of light in the feathered lay creating a sublime three-dimensionality.

The next day, another was reported near Chicklade, west of Stonehenge. Five of us crowded into a car and set off, scanning the fields until spotting it. As we reached the crop circle, the sun broke through, bathing the six-petal formation in light.

Near the tidy centre whorl I played my wooden recorder, when a truck bounded up and two farmers jumped out, one yelling, "This is criminal damage you've caused here!"

When we replied that we had only just arrived, he retorted, "You bloody well know you made it, and it's a right poor one, too!"

Our laughter irked him more, and he threatened: "You can leave now, I can call the police, or... " Not interested in the third option, we left.

Understandably, grangers are not pleased because of lost crops. Some immediately mow them out; others, especially in "popular canvas" fields, make the best of it with a donation box. One famous glyph, shaped like a beautiful mathematical structure known as a Julia Set fractal, appeared in daylight near Stonehenge in 1996 and reportedly netted the farmer thousands of pounds.

In a formation dubbed the Unfinished Symphony, within sight of one of Wiltshire's eight white horses etched on the hills, I met James Reed lugging a metal donation box, into which I dropped a few pounds.

"My fellow farmers would hang me for fraternizing with the croppies," Reed laughed, "but if a third one appears in my fields I'm going to cut them all out."

Later that day, while I pondered the lovely swirls of another formation -- two circles joined by cryptic code -- poor Reed arrived again and laughed, "Well, this one was already here, so it doesn't count."

In that same glyph, I met a trio of healers and convivial conversation ensued.

"For eight years I've come to see crop circles and with all the energy lines intersecting throughout the countryside here I feel that this land is important," explained Cynthia Barnard, a shaman from Boxford, Mass.

"The Earth is alive, so I travel around the world to sacred sites to help reawaken and anchor the feminine energy."

As for how they came to be, Cynthia added, "If I knew the answer I'd be a millionaire, but I feel it's impossible for people with ropes and boards. Anyhow, I love the idea of an ongoing mystery."

While crop formations appear the world over, that a preponderance pop up in Wiltshire is not thought coincidental. Here, rendered in stone and earth across the sacred landscape stand countless ancient stoneworks, the most famous being Stonehenge. Far older is the mother of all stone circles, Avebury Henge, so enormous that thatched homes encroach into the ring.

I spent a morning with Maria Wheatley, an expert dowser and author of several books including Avebury: Sun, Moon and Earth. Maria, with copper dowsing rods in hand, explained about the underground water, earth currents and ley lines converging in the henge creating a "powerful energetic centre that the ancients were able to perceive and harness."

Nearby is conical Silbury Hill, the largest artificial mound in Europe. So deftly constructed was this 40-metre-tall mount that it has defied 5,000 years of erosion. Directly across the highway crouches West Kennet Long Barrow, believed to be a ritual chamber and later a tomb. I reached it via a 10-minute walk across the fields and, while basking in the sun above the stone entrance, spotted another small crop circle.

Downing a cider at the lively Barge Inn, a tavern overlooking the Kennet & Avon canal, I met Mathew Williams, an ex-circle-maker holding the dubious distinction as the only person prosecuted for "criminal crop damage."

While explaining the thrill of the illicit art and the tricks with boards and ropes of his former avocation, the discussion unexpectedly veered to paranormal experiences that he, and other circle-makers, encountered while making formations; darting light orbs, shadow humanoid figures appearing, eerie sounds, and once discovering he had created a formation on which a group had meditated the previous night.

"Often, circle-makers don't know why they suddenly feel inspired and because of my strange experiences there seems to be a lot more going on than meets the eye." Then Matt added, "Some people are offended that humans might be the conduit, but I say that it is proof of human potential, and why deny that?"

Yet, human hands do not explain numerous associated anomalies: watch, cellphone and camera malfunctions within formations -- most famously, an inexplicable two-hour glitch in equipment hired by National Geographic; altered soil structure evidenced by "ghosts" of accelerated crop appearing in following summers and snow melting more quickly on former crop-circle sites; elongated and blown-out grass nodes best explained by a microwave burst; and the ongoing, keen interest of the British military.

While a fierce and often acrimonious debate swirls, many enthusiasts embrace this possibility: Perhaps crop glyphs -- mathematical, spiritual, astronomical, and mythic symbols -- are an interactive collaboration between the collective human consciousness and another inter-dimensional intelligence to remind us of our history, of the beauty we stand to lose if we are not better stewards.

During my final days in Wiltshire, I splurged and in a micro-light plane swooped over the sunny landscape: the network of roads and hedgerows I'd become so familiar with, White Horses striding emerald hills, beloved Avebury Henge and a dozen fantastic jewel shapes in the ripening fields.

Whatever the origins, one cannot but admire the formations as masterful works in the heart of nature, art that weaves wonder and magic to those who seek them out.

Bill Strubbe is a world traveller and journalist who has visited more than 70 countries on six continents... and still hopes to reach the Antarctic.

-- Postmedia News

IF YOU GO

Where to stay

Mayfield House (mayfieldbandb.com): Located in the town of Burbage, the original section of this lovely thatched home dates back to 1460, with tennis court and swimming pool. The two ensuite rooms are cosy and plush, and Angie, the gracious hostess, serves up a sumptuous and delicious breakfast. Cost: 55 pounds per single; 75 pounds per double.

Avebury Life B &B (aveburylife.com): Located in Avebury Trusloe, not far from Avebury Henge, its proprietor Antoinette enjoys hosting guests who are particularly interested in crop circles as well as the spiritual, metaphysical aspects of Wiltshire. Cost: 40 to 65 pounds per night.

Follets B&B (folletsbb.com): In the town of Easton Royal, offers both deluxe B&B and self-catering options, the latter in a recently converted barn with an amply equipped kitchen, Wi-Fi, and private garden. Cost: 75-80 pounds per room, per night; self-catering cottages 500 to 700 pounds per week.

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition May 5, 2012 D7