In the Footsteps of the Cursed Monks of Raggedstone Hill

The southern peak of Raggedstone Hill

The weather really knows how to pull the rug out from under your plans. Yesterday evening, with the rain lashing down and the wind doing its best impression of a jet engine, I gave up on my idea to wild camp on the nearby Malvern Hills. It had been dry as a bone for months and this was my first free weekend for ages to go camping. I found it well annoying. Of course, as soon as I admitted defeat and cancelled the dog sitter (my mum) the wind started easing off. By the time I woke up this morning it was calm, clear and absolutely glorious. Typical. Still, the Iron Age hillfort I was going to camp on has been sat up there for a couple of thousand years, so I’m sure it will wait patiently until I next have a free night. 

The morning sort of made up for it, even if it drummed home what I missed out on waking up to in my tent. I set off at sunrise from home with the dogs and headed straight up the hills from the car park in Hollybush. After admiring the scenery again on Midsummer Hill which we visited recently, I looped round over Hollybush Hill, a new one for me, and ended up at a cracking viewpoint over Hollybush Quarry. It was both epic and mildly terrifying, the sort of place you instinctively keep your dog away from. Wilf, naturally, ignored all common sense and charged on, dragging me down the steep woodland path that felt more like a controlled fall than a walk. 

The Malverns to the north from Midsummer Hill

Wilf dragging me up Hollybush Hill

An epic hidden viewpoint of Hollybush Quarry

At the bottom, after passing the sign for Herefordshire, I looked up at Raggedstone Hill, which loomed above. The ascent from near the lay-by is sharp and utterly brutal. By the time I reached the top I was thankful that my wife Stace and baby Molly were away, otherwise I’d have been carrying the small one up there as well and would probably still be lying face down somewhere halfway up. It’s been a while since I’d last stood on that hill and I’d forgotten how good the views are. They say Raggedstone is cursed, and I kind of get why. If all the hills of the Malverns were people, Raggedstone would definitely be the dark, strange and reclusive one, which is probably why I love it more. Apparently the curse thing started way back in the day with a monk who was caught kissing a woman. His punishment was to crawl up and down the hill on his hands and knees every day, begging for forgiveness from God at the top. One day he spotted a strange cloud between the two peaks, which somehow gave him the power to curse his fellow monks. Within a month the prior was dead, the priory was collapsing, and the rest of them had been banished to Gloucester Abbey. Not exactly a light bedtime story.

The steep walk up Raggedstone Hill from Hollybush

The southern peak of Raggedstone Hill, from the northern peak

Wilf and Dottie

Raggedstone Hill

Dropping down the other side I wandered past the tiny hamlet of Whiteleaved Oak, where the three counties of Herefordshire, Gloucestershire and Worcestershire all meet. It has a small set of stocks in the centre. The sort of quirky thing you half expect to stumble across in these borderlands. Last time I was here, someone had chalked Tony Blair’s name on them, which felt like a very specific bit of village justice. This time they were clean, though I was surprised Keir Starmer hadn’t been scribbled on yet. I carried on to the site of the old whiteleaved oak itself, once considered sacred and a gathering point for centuries. It was destroyed by fire in 2020. Nobody knows for sure how it started but the suspicion is a campfire gone wrong. Another casualty of lockdown boredom.

The stocks at Whiteleaved Oak

The Whiteleaved Oak stocks on our previous visit, featuring Tony Blair and Hitler.

The site of the old whiteleaved oak

The road walk back to Hollybush was less poetic, a stretch where you spend more time trying not to get clipped by passing cars than admiring the scenery, but it was worth it for the loop as a whole. A proper little adventure stitched together from hills, legends, and a bit of history.

Walking home I couldn’t help but feel lucky to live so close to this range. The Malverns are not the biggest hills in the world, not the most rugged, but they are packed with character. You never really know what you’re going to get. One day it’s storms and howling winds, the next it’s sunrise over quiet ridges and cursed monks. Either way, they always deliver.

**Walk details**

Start: Hollybush car park, at the base of Midsummer Hill. 

Head up the hill and over the summit. 

There is a pathway to the right which takes you up over Hollybush Hill. 

Go down through some woodland on steep path (further down I spotted an overgrown track to the right which led me to the viewpoint of Hollybush Quarry).

Walk down to the main road through Hollybush.

Head right past the carpark and bus shelter. 

Just before the lay-by is the entrance to the brutally steep walk up Raggedstone Hill. 

At the first summit you reach, follow the woodtrail trail down the hill to the hamlet of Whiteleaved Oak. 

Just up from the stocks is a gate to a footpath through the fields, past the old site of the whiteleaved oak. 

Carry on back onto the main road, where you head right and cautiously return to the car park. You can can stay off the road, but the path is very narrow. 

Distance: 4 miles

Total ascent: 356m

Time: Around 2 hours with plenty of stops to admire the views and grab a drink.