A Winter Solstice Wander through Whiteleaved Oak

I had some free time to go for a long solo walk as my wife Stace had spent the night away at the family farm near Pontrilas with our baby Molly. I say I had some free time, but Stace would definitely argue that there were far more productive things that I could be doing. It was winter solstice though and I wanted to get out into the countryside. I'd get up nice and early and start walking before sunrise. I'd initially head to the site of the old burnt down oak tree in Whiteleaved Oak which (as mentioned in my Pagans, Pilgrimage and Putley post) had connections to neolithic locations like Stonehenge and Glastonbury. Whiteleaved Oak is in the centre of a decagon of these sites. I wasn't sure if anyone would be there now the tree is gone though. I also wanted to mooch about some places I hadn't been to on my map of the local area and try and get a look at the beautifully named Slashers Quarry which is closed off to the public. 

I walked through Conigree Wood towards Eastnor as the morning light was starting to come through the trees. It was cold, drizzly, muddy and I was walking off the Gurkha lager I'd been drinking at our work Christmas party at a Nepalese restaurant in Malvern the night before. I could still taste the stuff, which wasn't pleasant at 7:30 in the morning but it is what it is. 

After reaching Eastnor I had about a mile to walk along the A438 to the remains of the old oak tree. I arrived to find that no one was there and all the decorations we'd seen around the site when we last visited had been removed. A shame. I sat and drank some hot chocolate with Amaretto as the clock hit 9:21 AM, the moment of the winter solstice and paid my respects to the whiteleaved oak that now seems to be forgotten. 

I then moved on further along the road to the entrance to the Malvern Hills in Hollybush. I walked up a footpath I hadn't stepped on before past Slashers Quarry. You can't see anything of the quarry through the locked gate and there are signs along the exterior warning of the dangers. The whole thing is surrounded by barbed wire fencing. I found a gap in the fence further up the lane. I managed to scratch my nutsack climbing through it, which made me wince, but I now had a view of the quarry. Unfortunately I couldn't see much of it through the trees and it would have been a bit dodgy walking down the steep banks, so I tried to find another spot further up. At the top of the quarry and after walking though watery mud that filled one of my boots, I found another break in the barbed wire where a got a better view of it. A class place. Annoying that you can't access it properly, but there have been many deaths at the nearby Gullet Quarry which also had to be fenced off, so it makes sense. 

From Slashers Quarry I carried on walking along the footpaths towards the Herefordshire Beacon which is a 338m iron age hill fort known more commonly as British Camp. There were groups of lads on mountain bikes gunning it past me along the paths. I considered cutting through the woods to the west of British Camp as I'd never gone that was before, but it seemed daft not to go up to the summit when I was so close. As I was about to head up, one of the lads on a mountain bike attempted to cycle up the steep hill ahead of me and failed miserably, stacking it with exhaustion after about a 10 metre climb. Funny. 

There were 40mph gusts of wind on the weather forecast, and you definitely felt those gusts walking up that hill. It was insanely windy. On a summer Saturday this place would be busy, but there weren't many other people about on this blustery winters day, so I had the top of the hill to myself. Not that I wanted to stay up there very long in those winds. The warmth of the curry house the night before seemed like a distant memory. I dived into one of the many ancient ramparts around the hill, got my sit mat on the floor, ate a Greggs sausage roll and downed more Amaretto hot chocolate sheltered from the wind. 

You can follow the main path down from British Camp to the big car park for it by the Malvern Hills Hotel, but I've walked that loads of times and I'm now trying to explore local places I haven't been to before. There is a little muddy layby on the main road to Ledbury next to some woods to the west of British Camp. I've driven past it literally thousands of times in the 18 years I've worked in Malvern and had noticed there was a footpath from it, going up the hill through the woods. I decided to find my way down the path to the layby then walk along the road to another footpath that looked like it might have scenic views down towards Colwall. 

The path down to the layby was mentally steep. You'd have to be a proper athlete to walk up it with all your kit and even then you'd be absolutely knackered. I respect anyone that has walked up to British Camp from that layby and I hope they made a full recovery from the inevitable heart attack. I struggled walking down the bank, but got to the layby, relieved I hadn't slipped and rolled down into the fence. I then had to walk about 500m along the A449 to the gate to the potentially scenic footpath I'd spotted on my map. There was no pavement and not much scope to properly get off the road. I think most of the approaching cars actually sped up when they saw me and tried to give me as little room as possible. It added further confirmation to my opinion that the world is infested with knobheads. 

I reached the gate to the footpath and started scrambling down the hill, trying not to scare all the sheep. I don't think it was a well used path as this gate is next to a bend in a fairly busy road with no pavement. It's also a really steep hill. It was worth the walk on the road though as the views of the Malverns were amazing. I followed the footpath trying not to slip over and got to some fairly level, but equally muddy ground. From there it was a flat-ish and straight-ish walk through fields to Colwall. This would be a corker of a walk on a sunny day. I eventually reached a little tunnel under the railway bridge to Colwall. 

I was going to visit the Colwall Park Hotel for a pint, but then remembered that my uncle Mark was now working at Colwall Legion and had recently refurbished the place, so after changing my absolutely filthy boots for the trainers in my pack, I headed in there for a San Miguel, a thirst quenching can of Vimto and a catch up with my uncle. This had been a very long walk and I was pretty tired, but I considered walking to Ledbury from Colwall via Coddington and some woods I hadn't been to in Wellington Heath. My wife was on her way back home though and wouldn't have been impressed with me adding another few hours of achieving nothing useful in the days leading up to Christmas. I'd save the Coddington walk for another day and get the next train home to Ledbury. 

I'd walked 10 miles at a leisurely pace over 5 hours, with regular stops to have a proper nose about. I really enjoyed it apart from wounding my ballbag climbing through barbed wire. More new areas visited on our local map. Places I'd probably never have bothered with but I've had a real buzz from finding hidden gems a stones throw from home. Onto the next one. Merry Christmas.