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Daylight dwindles rapidly as I stand within the ancient ring of stones at Tregeseal. The rock monoliths seem to shine in this melancholy countryside, resembling curious, spectral figures collected around to see our presence. Overhead, a blanket of brown heathland plants climbs toward the rocky hill of Carn Kenidjack, the sinister granite tor that commands the naked vista. During the evening, this heath is believed to be frequented by pixies and demons, and on occasion a dark rider rides out in search of lost souls.

Untroubled by any folkloric menace, we gaze westward, in the direction of the hazy shapes on the horizon that are the far-off Isles of Scilly. The sky break and a cascade of golden light spills over the islands. My guide, researcher Carolyn Kennett, and I exclaim. It is stunning natural theatre which may have been experienced by the community who erected this circle in the Neolithic era.

A Timeless Solstice Terrain

We have met at Tregeseal to discuss the year's turning point. Her research centers on the interplay of Neolithic Cornwall with the heavens, and she portrays the entire westernmost tip of Cornwall as an age-old midwinter ceremonial ground. This, she explains, is because of the backbone of Cornish stone that travels in a southwesterly direction along the peninsula, pointing toward the midwinter sunset. If, for example, you stand at winter solstice by the mushroom-shaped quoit – the capstoned grave high on the moors south of Morvah – you will see the sun sink over the distinctive tor on the south-western horizon. And in all likelihood this is exactly as Chûn Quoit’s ancient engineers planned.

"What superior place to celebrate the rebirth of the daylight than on the western tip, which aims in the direction of the setting point of the sun on the day of least light?"

The theory posits that the stone ring was intentionally placed to allow people to watch the December sun sinking behind the Isles of Scilly. “Viewed from here, Scilly is a threshold place. On a clear day with high pressure, the isles look close up and just pop. On different days, they’re entirely absent. The circle builders could have perceived Scilly as an otherworldly place, maybe a place of the dead, associated with the winter solstice and the return of the light.”

Enigmatic Stones and Light Beams

We thread through the darkening copper-colored moor past prehistoric burial mounds and heaps of mining slag to a enigmatic structure, which may be the UK’s only prehistoric alignment of perforated rocks. Unlike the stone at Mên-an-Tol a few miles away, it’s impossible to squeeze through the stones at Kenidjack; these apertures are barely big enough to fit my hand through and very low to the ground. Experts remain puzzled.

Carolyn’s theory is that the series might have functioned as a kind of midwinter timekeeping device, with the morning sun shining through the holes from the end of October until December and creating shifting rays of sunlight in the stones’ shadows. “Experiencing the glow of that golden beam of sunlight in the chilly, gloomy moor gave me a visceral appreciation of how Neolithic farmers might have perceived winter solstice,” she says.

Numerous heritage locations are oriented to the sunrise or sunset of the sun at midwinter or midsummer for it to be a chance. It makes sense that prehistoric farmers, who depended on the sun for illumination, warmth and the success of crops, would want to monitor the sun’s journey. But in the 21st century, the short days of this time of year still affects our spirits, and so we anticipate the midwinter, that darkest day of all before the hours of light begin to lengthen again.

Ancient Markers and New Traditions

A cutting easterly is blowing, and strange low sounds emanate from hidden cows as I hike through soggy clover to go and see the Boscawen-Ros stone, keeping watch as it has done for countless generations above the peninsula’s south coast. It is just one of many of ancient monoliths that stand alone or in pairs or circles all over the peninsula; less than a mile away are the famous petrified dancers, figures turned to stone for violating the Sabbath. I think about how long the stone has persisted here, witnessing its panorama of the surrounding seas: where once small craft would have floated, now freighters and the island boat pass by.

"Montol revives the old Cornish custom of guise dancing, with its elaborate masks and costumes, seasonal songs and music of pipe, drum and fiddle."

A filmmaker's mesmerising film, which documents one cycle in the life of this stone, highlights the significance of its still and silent existence in the constantly shifting landscape. “And I purposely began and concluded the film with the solstice,” he says, “because it is a point of sheer anticipation – the pledge of the conclusion of gloom and a bright new year ahead.”

On the shortest day, all over the peninsula, people will be celebrating midwinter by processing to stone circles, water sources, Iron Age sites and prehistoric lookout points. Guided walks will be led to observe the sun setting. Many will walk to standing stones in a sort of ceremony of reflection and renewal. Later, many people will gather into the town for the Montol festival, a midwinter festival that {dates only to|was established in|originated in