Good Mates with the Muntjacs: A Ledbury to Malvern Wild Camping Walk

After failing to complete the planned full route of my wild camping walk from Ledbury to Malvern last weekend and feeling annoyed about it, I had another free weekend to try it again. I now know that when camping in May, you definitely don't need enough warm clothing to get through a nuclear winter. I didn't take enough water to hand wash a HGV this time either and worked out that my water bottles were considerably easier to carry uphill in my hands than they were adding kilos to the weight of the cheap and uncomfortable pack on my back. 

My walk up the woods this time was far easier. Actually quite pleasant. I decided that I'd find a brighter place to camp that was more flat and less twiggy. The Frith Wood is basically a hill covered in trees though. Flat areas big enough for even a small tent are difficult to find and what made it more difficult was that all of them seemed to be covered with bluebells. Apart from the fact bluebells look really nice (I'd argue they are clearly purple though), it's illegal to intentionally destroy them. I'm not an expert on law, but I would guess that sticking a tent on some fragile flowers and then lying in it would probably count as intentionally destroying them. Realistically I wasn't going to get in any bother for it, but I wanted to do the right thing. Eventually, after nearly giving up and going home, I found a spot that was bright, flat-ish and bluebell (purplebell) free.

I had a reasonable sleep this time. There was still the screaming muntjac, but I felt like we were mates now. To be honest, it wasn't actually the best night's sleep I'd ever had. If it had been then I'd probably be gravely ill by now, but I got about 5-6 hours which is a lot better than the 3 hours the weekend before.

I was packed up at sunrise and on my way to walk through Colwall to the Malvern Hills. The sky that morning was incredible. I think I'd probably missed a decent aurora or something while I was in the tent, but was getting the remnants of it. My first stop was at Oyster Hill on the outskirts of Wellington Heath. From there it was a downhill walk to Colwall where the Malvern Hills start to rise. On the way I managed to forage some food like a true survivalist. It was an orange Starburst. Not my flavour of choice but in a survival situation you take what you can get. 

Breakfast in the wild

Now aiming for the highest peak of the hills in the distance

The walk to Colwall from Oyster Hill made the Malvern Hills look absolutely massive. People (including myself) go up the Malverns a lot and have a photo at the Worcestershire Beacon like they have conquered a mountain, but most start in Great Malvern or by the Wyche Cutting where you are already a fair way up the hill. The walk via the Conigree from Ledbury that I'd done felt like a steady climb too, but on the footpaths to Colwall it seemed like I was walking towards Everest. Well, maybe Everest's much, much smaller cousin, but it all looked pretty big. I thought back to the weekend before when I'd been loaded up like a Peruvian donkey and, despite my regrets, realised I probably made the right call avoiding the walk. 

I was thinking I'd stop at the cafe in Colwall for a cooked breakfast, but when I reached the cafe I was thinking "why didn't I check if it was open on a Sunday?". It wasn't open and I would have been way too early even if it was. By this point, without getting into too much detail, I knew that I probably should have used my little orange plastic trowel and dug myself a hole in the woods and pretended to be a bear for a bit. I'd need to walk the rising paths to the Wyche Cutting, a pass over the hills, where there was a public toilet. I made it to the promised land and found release and relief. 

The Wyche Cutting is one of those places with a daft example of covid rules. The Herefordshire and Worcestershire border runs down the middle of the hills. On one side of the cutting is Herefordshire and the Chase Inn pub. On the other side is Worcestershire and the Wyche Inn. When Herefordshire went to Tier 1 restrictions over Christmas 2020, the Chase was allowed to open and the Wyche had to stay closed. Obviously people who lived on the Worcestershire side followed the rules impeccably though and didn't walk round the corner to go to The Chase for a few pints. Obviously.

I was now reasonably close to the top of the hills. From a bench I could see the woods where I'd camped in the morning. It looked pretty far away. I'd done alright. The walk to the Worcestershire Beacon from the Wyche isn't particularly long, but it isn't particularly fun either though. I might have reduced my pack weight this time around, but I still had about 12kg in there and I was really hungry. 

I made my way up the remainder of the hill towards the Worcestershire Beacon. I've been up the Malverns so many times and basically drive over them to work, but it was quieter than I've ever known it. Mainly because it was still really early and there weren't any other weirdos about that had been kipping in the woods. It's a bit of a slog up the hill with a lot of weight on your back, but perfectly manageable and just a beautiful place to have the occasional break on a bench and watch the world go by.

As I edged towards the summit I was overtaken by a bloke cycling up there. Fair play to him, but he looked properly knackered. I reached the top and he was taking a photo of the trig point. I offered to take a photo of him with it in exchange for him returning the favour. Nice guy. He was Dutch so not used to hills at all, which made it a better effort. After he'd moved on I had a moment on my own up there where I felt properly pleased with myself for making it to the Worcestershire Beacon, the highest point in Worcestershire after bottling it the weekend before. I was buzzing. I must have been up that hill 20-30 times before but it never felt anywhere near as satisfying as it did now. 

I still had to walk into Malvern, get some breakfast then head to the train station and home to Ledbury, but that was going to be easy now. It was all downhill, in the literal and positive sense. I had a can of cider in my bag again. I always do when we go on walks since the days of lockdowns when we'd take a load of cans in a bag and go and find somewhere nice to sit in the sun. Last weekend it had made me want to vomit, but this weekend it was satisfying, even at 8:30AM. 

I plodded the mile or two down the hill into Great Malvern for breakfast at Wetherspoons. As Spoons go, the Malvern branch is definitely one of the better ones and it's one of the only places in town with a decent view down the hills. Considering Great Malvern is on a hillside that seems daft, but it is what it is. I had a full breakfast and a pint of Stowford Press. Chas, a colleague from work happened to walk in. I said "Alright, Chas? I'm that guy who's drinking pints in Wetherspoons at 9:30 in the morning". He replied with "I'll be that guy as well in a minute" and ordered an ale.

I still had an hour or so until my train home, so had another drink and sat it the morning sun in the beer garden. I then headed to the station, on the train to Ledbury and walked home. I'd gone back and completed my daft little local solo adventure and it felt amazing. Theoretically I would be done with this sort of nonsense now, but because it was such a buzz I was almost immediately thinking about where I was going to camp and walk to next. Solo wild camping isn't really the best hobby to take up about a month before your first child is due to be born, but living in the arse end of nowhere means that it can be done and my wife's parents have a farm with lots of nice fields and woodland. I also then started thinking about how great it was going to be to bringing up my daughter with a proper love of the outdoors. Life was going to be good and I was looking forward to more of these stupid but fulfilling adventures in the future.