Stonehenge minus the crowds: how to see it, a century after it was gifted to the nation

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A bright half-moon and the pale-pink strip-light of the dawn horizon illuminated my early pilgrimage. Just. 

Leaving the huge Neolithic henge of Durrington Walls, I set off alone across the muted field, feet dew-damp, cheeks chilled, startling birds – and they me. After a mile or so, the countryside opened up, rolling lazily away in waves of dim yellow-green. But, squinting, I could make out something lighter in the distance; something not of Mother Nature. Crows cawed. My pace quickened.

I followed the beech trees and Bronze Age tombs of King Barrow Ridge, then turned right along the Avenue, the ancient processional route to that man-made oddity: Stonehenge. The faint trail led into a dip, briefly…

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