Garway Hill, Kentchurch and Wild Camping with a Dog

There’s something deeply refreshing about solo wild camping. The peace, the space and the break from the stresses of modern life. After a long week at work, slipping away into the wild helps me reset. I never really feel lonely on a camp, but when darkness falls and the long night sets in, things can get a little dull inside the tent. Camping alone always feels like more of an adventure than just going for a long walk though. Catching a sunrise or sunset from your tent with no one else around is one of the most rewarding feelings I know and it gives me a proper buzz. Since we’ve got two dogs at home, I decided to try taking one of them camping with me for a bit of company. There’s no way both would fit comfortably in the tent, and regardless it would be be chaos. Wilf is nervous and likely to bolt for home, while Dottie would probably go mental at anything that rustled in the dark. I chose the lesser chaos: nervous Wilf.

I didn't take him into the depths of the woods or to a hilltop. I wasn't sure how he'd react to it and I didn't want to be stuck somewhere in the dark with no chance to sack it off if I needed to. My wife's mum and stepdad have a farm near Pontrilas which I've camped on before. They were happy to have our daughter Molly stay over while my wife had a night with her sisters and I camped in one of their fields. The last time I did that I picked a gloriously scenic spot in the open with a view of the Black Mountains, but this time I wanted to find somewhere on their land that was a bit more wild. They have a field that rarely gets used for their sheep so it is pretty overgrown. It has a brook running alongside it, through a long section of woodland and is tucked away inside a little valley out of sight of roads and houses. I found nice hidden spot near the brook under some trees and pitched up for the night. 

Some people on wild camping groups on Facebook would probably wave their fists at the screen, shouting "that's not proper wild camping!". In my opinion, if you're out in the countryside, camping somewhere for free that isn't a campsite and you have to dig a hole to poo in, it's wild camping. Maybe semi-wild in this case. Who really cares anyway? 

The camping spot

The Phoxx 2, hidden away near a brook

I tied Wilf's lead to one of the trees so I could cook some dinner. I went with a beef stew and potato dehydrated meal from Summit to Eat. 300ml of water boiled on my stove, poured into the bag then stirred for 8 minutes until it started to resemble something edible. It looked pretty disgusting to be honest but it tasted OK. If I got served it in a restaurant I'd give them a 1 star TripAdvisor review, but as these sorts of meals go, it did the job. By the time I'd forced it down and drank half a can of lager, Wilf was looking a bit shaky, wondering what was going on. 

Beef stew and potatoes. Mmmmmm

Just before I realised Wilf was getting stressed

I decided I needed to get Wilf in the tent to try and settle him down for the night. When inside, he looked a bit confused, but it was warm and he had an old, thick, fluffy jumper to lie on which seemed to do the trick. It was cloudy anyway so I wasn't going to get a sunset and it was due to rain all night. That was us in the tent until the morning. It got dark and Wilf got concerned again. He was trying to find a way to look through the mesh parts of the inner tent for about an hour, then gave up and lay down. I nodded off at about 11, woke once at 2am ish to the sound of heavy rain on the tent (another great feeling), then went straight back to sleep until my 5am sunrise alarm woke me. With it being cloudy, I dossed for a bit in the warmth then got changed in the tent, packed everything up apart from the soaking tent and we got moving. I wanted to carry all my kit for a bit of training for future walks, but it would have been even more dumb to take a soaking tent when I could just let it dry in the sunshine that was forecast for the morning. 

We got moving out of the fields and onto the country lanes towards Garway Hill. It isn't exactly busy on the roads round there, but at that time on a Sunday morning, no cars passed at all during the 2 miles to the start of the walk up the hill along footpaths. 

The start of the walk

Off to Garway Hill

Methodist Chapel, Garway Hill

It was a steady climb up the paths, but pretty knackering with my heavy backpack. I felt quite pleased that my 2kg tent was too wet to pack up. After a lot of gasping for air while walking through woodland, I reached a gate that opened out onto Garway Hill. It wasn't too far at all from there to the top which is easily recognisable due to the brick structure that sits on the summit. It was originally the base part of a World War II radio tracking station. The rest of the old station was made from wood and stood at around 8 metres high. It was built in 1942 and the top section was dismantled in 1948.

Approaching Garway Hill summit

Base part of World War II radio tracking station, Garway Hill

Upper section of Garway Hill tracking station. 1942-1948

It was pretty windy up there but the massive brick octagon provided some shelter from it. I gave Wilf some water and food, then spent a bit of time enjoying the incredible views. I have been here before and love the place, but the lane that leads to its tiny car park is without question the worst bit of road I've ever driven on. It feels like it has been bombed or something and is borderline impassable. A mate told me he was planning to go there recently and I warned him about the state of the lane. He messaged me after his visit to say "I've never driven on a worse road and I'm a delivery driver!". This is part of the reason I wanted to walk to it this time. 

Wilf on Garway Hill

With Wilf on the summit

Great scenery on Garway Hill

There were plenty of ponies on Garway Hill when I last visited, but I hadn't seen any this time. It's common land and locals use it for grazing ponies and sheep. They aren't wild as such like those you'll see on the nearby Black Mountains, but they still roam free across the common which adds to the beauty of the place. I wandered down the hill to the large pond to see if they were lazing about near there, but they weren't. I decided to move on, down the other side of the hill and continue my walk towards the village of Kentchurch. On round the hill I found the ponies. 

The pond

Semi-wild ponies on Garway Hill

Pony on Garway Hill

I walked by without startling them and followed the Herefordshire Trail towards Kentchurch. It was a steady descent with plenty of epic views. I gave my wife Stace a call to check how she was and how her mum was getting on looking after our baby Molly. All was fine, but Stace said it was pissing it down in Pontrilas, which was a few miles west of me, so I knew it was probably going to piss it down where I was too. Sure enough about 5 minutes later, it pissed it down. Because of the advanced warning I'd been walking slowly through a wooded section which would provide me some shelter. We stopped under a tree for a while as it rained and I changed my socks. I'd worn a pair of Terrex walking trainers which were really comfortable, but I'd forgotten that they weren't waterproof. The plodding through the long, wet grass meant my socks were soaking. This was the only spare pair I had though. The other pair were still in the tent that I'd left behind. 

When the rain eased off we continued along the trail and got treated to more glorious views. 

Views of the Herefordshire Countryside

The Herefordshire Trail

Then, after walking through some fields and along a country lane I found myself on the edge of the river Monnow on the outskirts of Kentchurch. I crossed a footbridge which took me from a lane in England to a field in Wales. It wasn't quite as impressive as one of the Severn bridges, but the scenery from it was definitely nicer. I wandered along the perimeter of the field and found a way down to one of the pebble beaches in this section of the Monnow. Wilf had a dip and a drink, then we went back over the bridge, returned to England and continued our walk. 

Bridge over the Monnow, Kentchurch

The River Monnow

Wilf cooling down in the Monnow

We passed St Mary's Church and followed a long path to the grand gatehouse at the end. I'm pretty sure I was tresspassing walking through it as it was basically someone's driveway, but I couldn't see another way and definitely couldn't be arsed to walk all the way back. Just along from the gatehouse is the Bridge Inn, which looks a cracking pub but I was way too early for the 12pm opening time so a beer would have to wait until I got home. 

I was getting pretty knackered now with 6 miles walked and around another 2 miles back to the farm. I followed the footpath through fields and woods that took my back up to the road to the farm and a chance to relax with my daughter. My feet got absolutely soaked again and with no spare dry socks I'd have to grin an bear it. 

Kentchurch Gatehouse

The woodland trail north of Kentchurch

A fine bench on the Herefordshire Trail

I ended up following to wrong path which took me through what appeared to be a sanctuary for people that like shooting animals. Eventually I found my way and got to the road to the farm. 

Half-built homestead

Possibly a hunting blind, possibly a toilet block.

On arriving at the farm, it was great to see Molly doing well. We'd had these same plans the weekend before, but she'd picked up a stomach bug on her first week as nursery, which Stace and I got too, so that made it a total write off. She was now back to her usual self. Smiling and eating anything that was put in front of her. 

I returned to the tent to pack it away and get my third change of socks for the day. As always, I made sure the only trace I left was a flat patch off grass. 

Return to the Phoxx 2

Leave no trace

It had been an epic walk and camping with my dog was, on the whole, a success. Next time, I suspect he’ll be a little less confused, but perhaps a bit more cautious, knowing he won’t be curling up at the end of our double bed. When we got home, Wilf collapsed into a deep sleep for the rest of the day. I may have nudged him out of his comfort zone, but he never left my side and got all the fresh air and exercise a dog could want. The tent proved a bit cramped with a four-legged companion taking up valuable space, so maybe that's reason enough to upgrade. My wife already thinks two tents is excessive, but really…what’s one more?