Before me stood five thousand years of history, a mystery dating back to the ancient Druids and cultures long since lost to the passages of time.
Silhouetted against the pre-dawn sky, Stonehenge stood proud in the gloom, its pillars united as one structure, forged from the hand of man five millennia ago.
If only it could speak and expose its inner secrets, tell us tales of joy and sorrow, heroes and villains.
But for now it just sat and waited for the dawn of a new day, a new experience to add to the catalogues of history.
And then the sun peered its head above the horizon and the sky became a blend of reds, oranges and yellows.
From the darkness came shadows cast from the giant stone sentinels racing away across the grassy fields.
Suddenly the countryside was alive, awakened from its slumber and welcoming the early morning sun.
Daybreak was greeted by birds, dancing from stone to stone, playing atop this formation which dominates the local landscape.
The silence was broken from birdsong emanating from all around the stone circle, each nook and cranny a hideout for the little fellows.
First light was accompanied by a cool gentle breeze drifting sedately across the land bringing a chill to the skin.
But the greatest sensation was a feeling of solitude, an overwhelming sense of loneliness as the stones sat here long after their makers and intended ceremonies.
Stonehenge has seen a lot during a long and turbulent British history.
It must have been fascinating to have been an innocent bystander and witnessed the rise and fall of the Roman Empire.
But for now Stonehenge sits in a quite corner of England, greeting the dawn of a new day.
