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Granted, the 13th century is not that old for a castle, it wasn't a very good place for a fortress (what was it defending, for one thing?), and it was never completely built before it fell so picturesquely into ruins.
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There are also ruins, however, of earlier monastic communities that made the head their home, and before that it was used as a trading outpost by Romans and later by Celtic kings. It may or may not have been the place King Arthur was born — I'll leave that up to your imagination.
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With the thick mists obscuring the head, it's an easy place to let imagination run free. We stayed up here for hours (hey, we'd paid for admission), gazing off over the sea, flirting with the sheer cliff edges, frolicking through the open grassy expanses, muching apples and journaling, napping in the sun, and walking over ruined rooms and wondering what lives passed through before.
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