Don't Let The Bedbug Bite

Weathervane on Kingsclere Church, (c) Picasa

We have some eccentric weathervanes in this country, fashioned in the image of angels, dragons, horses, ships, fish... but I am certain that the church tower in the pleasant Hampshire village of Kingsclere is the only one to boast a bedbug.

I had arrived in the village on a warm and bright day in early August, having planned to meet up with my Eldest, his partner J, and their friend L, who were driving in from L's home in Reading. This group of four would be Team Vulpine for the day.

Arriving first, I decided to have a look around the village church, as they tend to be the oldest and most historic structures in the vicinity. Glad I was that I satisfied my curious streak, as the building contains the exceptional tomb of Sir Henry and Lady Bridget Kingsmill, who passed away in 1624 and 1672 respectively.

Kingsmill Tomb (c) Mike Searle

The Kingsmills were major landowners back then, with their seat at nearby Sydmonton Court. One of their grandchildren, Anne Kingsmill, became a poet at the Restoration court of Charles II, making her one of our first female poets, and later became the Countess of Winchelsea after marrying into the Finch family (whose own stately pile in Kent was once visited by my Youngest and I in 2017).

As I stepped out of the church, my companions arrived and parked close to my own vehicle in the village car park. After a quick trip to a grocery to stock up on supplies, we hefted our backpacks onto our shoulders and set out on a ramble... one that would take us onto the high ground of the North Wessex Downs Area Of Outstanding Beauty.  This rather large AONB spreads itself across the counties of Berkshire, Hampshire, Wiltshire and Oxfordshire and also includes such impressive landscapes as the Berkshire Downs, the Savernake Forest and the Vale Of Pewsey. It contains such sights as the Uffington Horse, Silbury Hill and the Avebury Stone Circle, and one of the major industries of the area is the breeding and training of racehorses. We are on the south-eastern spur of the AONB, and it is our intention today to traverse the three Downs that gaze loftily down upon the village of Kingsclere. Not just because of the impressive views, but also because they feature in a beloved story with which we are all familiar. So, a quest for literary as well as natural history.

Most of us have been here before, but this time we are going to do it properly. As we stride out of the village, heading south, the three Downs loom temptingly, almost glowing in the sunshine.

Map of our route

Some years have passed since I was last here, and that occasion was a bright but breezy February afternoon, when I brought my children here following a steam journey on the Watercress Line. It is L's second visit - on her first, she parked up on the Downs and her car was broken into, so she is probably glad this time to leave it in the comparative safety of the village. She has joined the Team on a previous literary quest, two years ago when we were tracking down Jane Austen elsewhere in Hampshire. More recently, she joined us in an exploration of Runnymede in Surrey.

Runnymede is, of course, famously connected with King John, thanks to that Magna Carta business. He also casts his historic shadow over Kingsclere, for he is the reason that the church is surmounted by the representation of a parasite.

The King had a hunting lodge on Cottington Hill, south of the village (interestingly, the sample of OS map above shows earthworks and a 'settlement'). During a hunt in the year 1204, a fog came down but the King reached the safety of Kingsclere and opted to spend the night at one of the inns. His night proved unrestful, as he kept being attacked by a bedbug. He gave an order that the village should remember this occasion by erecting a representation of the annoying creature... hence the unusual weathervane. Pure folklore, unfortunately... the vane was erected several centuries after the event.

After leaving the village, we cross a couple of large fields and ascend the scarp. The flora of the chalk downs attracts many handsome butterflies, flitting around and enjoying the warmth and brightness of High Summer. There is excremental evidence of rabbits on the slope, but we fail to spot any. For some reason I have never seen bunnies up here, which is a bit odd as the area is quite well known for them.

L, Eldest and J ascend the scarp

At the peak of the scarp is a long stretch of 'Gallops', where racehorses are trained. Much of the land around here is owned by the Sydmonton Court Estate, who operate a stud farm and also maintain a dairy herd. The house itself is mostly concealed by trees to the northwest, but we would be getting closer to it later on our walk.

This is Cannon Heath Down, the first of the three 'downs' we will be walking across. The footpath takes us across the Gallops and we continue west. A trig point, familiar from my last Wintry visit when I watched the sun descend behind it, sits quietly in a field to our left. On our right, the Gallops come to an end and are replaced by a dense woodland that covers the slope at this point. The path passes between the woods and the fields, and this is the Central of our three downs, the one known as Watership.

When Richard Adams wrote his famous children's epic in the early 1970's, he described a 'beech hanger' at the crest of the Down, the local name for a copse of beech trees, although much cover art of the books show only a single tree. The landscape has changed since then, and Watership Down is now far more heavily wooded.

Watership Down from the west

The path descends slightly into a hollow, with arable fields to our left and the woods to our right. We cross a small country road and onto the third down, Ashley Warren Down. The name suggests the presence if rabbits, but the area's celebrity beasties remain elusive to our sight.

The road between Watership and Ashley Warren Downs

Between the fields and the path, yellow sow-thistle proudly blooms

View from the wooded scarp

As we continue the stroll, the woods begin to thin and the open areas return. We pause for a while so that members of the party can have fun with a low hanging tree.

Eldest and J

At the foot of the Downs, we can see a line of Iron Trees, instantly recognisable to anyone familiar with the 1979 animated version of Watership Down, especially in the scene that was accompanied by the Art Garfunkel song 'Bright Eyes'.

The Iron Trees

Our westerly ramble is taking us close to the end of this stretch of the Downs, before the land falls into the valley along which the A34 Winchester-Oxford road runs. Here, now, is some ancient history. In a field of wheat, bisected by the poppy--lined path upon which our feet plod, is a prominent round barrow, a tumulus of the Bronze Age, maybe erected over the remains of a Bronze Age notable. Beyond the tumulus, separated from the wheatfield by fencing, is a series of earthen ditches and ramparts. We have found Ladle Hill, a lofty hillfort thrown up by the local tribe over two millenia ago, possibly due to the approaching threat of the invading Romans.

Wheat and poppies. All you need to make a delicious bread roll.

Ladle Hill

Ladle Hill has been of great value to archaeologists. Because it was unfinished, possibly because the tribe decided to favour Beacon Hill to the west, it has given scholars the chance to evaluate just how these structures were created. It seems that different teams of workers were throwing up the rampart simultaneously, rather than having one team gradually working their way around.

The colourful flora of Ladle Hill. And legs.

Ladle Hill has more than archaeological value; it is a biological SSSI, a Site of Special Scientific Interest, due to the variety of plant life.

Brightwort

Bedstraw

We loiter on Ladle Hill for a while, sipping our drinks, eating our snacks and gazing at the views toward the north, and across the valley to our west. The hulk of Beacon Hill is clearly visible, a place of deer and ravens, once explored by
Me and my Youngest. Scanning left, we can just make out - shielded by a screen of trees - the tallest tower of Highclere Castle, stately pile of the Earl of Carnarvon, a building known to millions around the world as its TV alter ego, Downton Abbey.

When we set off, we begin our descent. A track, shielded by trees, follows the falling gradient. I get the impression that the track was once wider, perhaps a coach track or a drover's way.

The old green track, with L.

Along the way, we continue our own observations of the flora and fauna. A young slow-worm slithers across the path. A startled roe deer sprints from our approach, and a gnarled old tree shows us the quality of its fungi.

Slow-worm

Old tree

Fungi

The dappled shade of the old green track eventually gives way to a country road, and we swing right, heading toward Kingsclere. After a short time we enter the hamlet of Sydmonton, and divert onto a public footpath heading north, a footpath that follows a farm track.

The path through Sydmonton Court (c) Graham Horn

There are handsome farm buildings and very well maintained gardens on our left. On our right, the trees shield the great house of Sydmonton Court, in the Kingsmill family for hundreds of years, and sold only on the late 1970's. An appropriate cat greets us on the track, shortly before a break in the trees gives us a glimpse of the mansion itself.

Sydmonton Court

This is the country pile of the most successful composer in history, Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber. He was responsible for some of the most popular stage musicals in history, such as Evita, Jesus Christ Superstar, Phantom Of The Opera, Starlight Express, Joseph And The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat and, of course, Cats, which is why the appearance of a moggy on the track was so appropriate.

Not the cat we saw.

Walking across the grounds, then turning right to pass Watership Farm, we see kites and buzzards circling the higher ground to our left. We pass the farm, turn right at another junction and follow a bridleway for a short distance until it brings us to another farm track, and the entrance to another farm.

An important place in Watership Down

In Richard Adams novel, Nuthanger Farm is the location where the Watership rabbits attempt to free hutch rabbits, as they need does to supplement their warren. At the end of the novel, when the warren is under attack from the rival warren of Efrafa, the Watership rabbits free the farm's dog and goad it to chase them back to their besieged warren, wreaking havoc among their enemies in the process.

We stroll down the farm track back toward the road, following the course of the fictional fleeing rabbits. We pause at the junction, seeing the gap in the hedgerow through which they would have sprinted, furious canine in pursuit, and the field with the iron trees which they would have traversed before they hared their way up the Down. Yes, pun intended.

The route taken by the rabbits in the novel

We have seen and done what we came to see and do, and now we follow the road back to Kingsclere, the views of the Downs resplendent to our south.

Watership Down

Our vehicles patiently wait for us in the village car park, and today's version of Team Vulpine splits up. L departs for the journey to Reading, while the rest of us head for Basingstoke, where a Harvester restaurant is going to make our dinner. As we drive away, I take a last glance at the tower of St Mary's church, and its amusing adornment, and we leave Kingsclere to the coming evening. And a message for the villagers that remain.

Don't let the bedbug bite.

St Marys, Kingsclere

Castles And Caves

Graffiti old and new on Wealden sandstone

  The Eden Valley is not, as its name suggests, a biblical location, but a historic and picturesque area of Kent. The charming River Eden lends its name both to the Valley and its principal town, Edenbridge, and the area is notable for its historic sites and its striking geology. The homes of Winston Churchill and General James Wolfe are here at Westerham, as well as the floral charms of Emmett's Garden, and the grave of Octavia Hill - philanthropist and founder of the National Trust - can be found at Crockham Hill.

The quirky rocky outcrops that occur throughout the area are of Ardingly Sandstone, and are notable for ancient weathering features such as honeycombing and polygonal cracking. The most significant outcrops can be found at High Rocks and Eridge Rocks, west of Tunbridge Wells... although smaller outcrops can be seen throughout the Eden Valley (as we shall see...).

Old postcard of High Rocks

Eridge Rocks (c) Malcolm Etheridge

A curious triangle of villages exists within the limits of the Valley, curious as all three of them are dominated by stately buildings. In Penshurst, the pinnacles of Penshurst Place soar proudly in parkland watered by the gently flowing Medway, that mightiest of Kent rivers. In Hever, the Castle sits within its moat in an impeccably manicured series of formal gardens. And in Chiddingstone, another Castle - actually a mansion - sits on the edge of a village so well preserved that most of it is owned by the National Trust. A village visited by Team Vulpine (Eldest and I) on a bright February day.

Chiddingstone

A footpath that begins at the rear of Hever churchyard skirts the Castle grounds, then meanders in an easterly direction before picking up an old coach track heading toward Chiddingstone. Here, along and around this coach track, can be found some wonderful examples of the geology so unique to the High Weald.

Eldest on Ye Olde Coache Tracke

Rocks and Roots

The epitome of Persistence

The Track from above

Across a couple of open fields, we approach the settlement of Chiddingstone itself. The village has a heavy Tudor flavour, and its one street veers suddenly to the right after it passes the church, in order to avoid the Castle grounds. At one time it ploughed straight through, but this was changed when the Castle grounds were landscaped in the 19th century.

One of the village's more recent relics

As we approach from the west, we notice an outcrop which some believe may have given its name to the village - the Chiding Stone. It may have been a Saxon boundary marker, as the name of the village is most likely derived from 'the stone of Chidda's tribe'.

The Chiding Stone

Local folklore asserts that the Stone was a seat of judgement, used for the humiliation of nagging wives. Some also fancifully assert that it was some kind of druidical altar. Neither theory has been blessed with provenance, although it would certainly be nice if they were true.

Information Board

As we travellers and explorers enter the village, we turn north and amble down the quiet street, heading for the Castle. To our right, the village churchyard contains a curious mausoleum in the shape of a gazebo.

The Mausoleum

This dates from 1736 and was built by Henry Streatfeild to house his family's burial vault. It is the most prominent monument in the grounds, which seems appropriate as Henry's home, Chiddingstone Castle, is the most prominent building in the village... and we now pass the Castle Inn and step into the grounds.

Chiddingstone Castle

 The present building dates to the 19th century but its predecessor, known as High Street House, was built in the early 16th century when the Streatfeilds were coming into prominence as iron masters, wool merchants and landowners in three counties.

Little remains of this earliest building, as it was pulled down in 1679 by another Henry Streatfeild (it was a popular name in the family) and rebuilt in a red-brick Restoration style. This lasted until the nineteenth century, when the architects William Atkinson and Henry Kendal created the building and grounds which stand now. It was also renamed from High Street House to Chiddingstone Castle, since the re-routed High Street no longer ran past the front door.

Octagonal Orangery in the grounds

The Streatfeild family sold the building in 1938 to Lord Astor, owner of neighbouring Hever Castle, who allowed it to be used by the Canadian Forces during World War II. Once hostilities had ended, it spent a few years as Long Dene School until being purchased, in 1955, by an antiques dealer and collector named Denys Eyre Bower. He opened the Castle to the public to display his collections, and they remain there to this day. Bower died in 1977 and a trust, the Denys Eyre Bower bequest, run the Castle now. In an example of historic continuity, its trustees include members of the Streatfeild family. The collections include artifacts from Japan and Egypt, as well as Stuart/Jacobite and Buddhist relics.

Into the grounds we stroll. The Castle is closed for the winter, although the grounds are usually kept open, with payment by honesty box. Eldest and I look at features such as the lake, the cascade, the ha-ha... and, especially, the lakeside Grotto.

Tunnel in the grotto...

...and its entrance

Hever Castle also has a grotto, hewn out of an old quarry, and it is reasonable to assume that one inspired the other, although it is no longer possible to know which one came first. The Hever grotto lies in a discreet part of the grounds, unmentioned in the guide books... but the Chiddingstone grotto, situated only a short distance from the village entrance, is a lot more blatant.

Back gate leads to a small courtyard

The tunnel curves...

What might we find in here?

...oh, good. Cave spiders.

The grotto is a little cluttered in places, with old fencing strewn at one point. And on the walls, some of those creatures I first encountered in an Iron Age subterranean monument in Cornwall, and later in a derelict Victorian fortification at Tilbury. Cave spiders, just hanging around on the walls guarding their egg-sacs, the creepy little perishers. I always feel like I'm in an Indiana Jones film when I encounter these.

Skylight

Exploring the Chiddingstone grotto

The soft sandstone of the High Weald lends itself easily to quarrying and burrowing, and it would not have been difficult for the wealthy owners of Hever and Chiddingstone Castles to have such features added to their landscaped grounds... but, unknown to most visitors to these two stately piles, there is a third grotto in the Eden Valley. One which is a closely guarded local secret, and the origins and purpose of which is shrouded in mystery. Instead of being situated in the grounds of a grandiose dwelling, this one nestles in a rural location on farmland.

I was first alerted to its existence by a friend who used to live in the area, who described it as a 'rock temple'. Rather than give me directions, she sent me a link to the website of an Urban Explorer from Greenwich who surveyed the site in 2015. He described it as a 'Mithraic Temple', and was apparently the only UrbEx to have found and located the place, after what he described as 'relentless research'. However, he was as discreet as my friend, and neglected to mention its actual location.

I do so like a challenge. After exhausting the conventional lines of enquiry, I started thinking on a more lateral level. Last time I did that, I rediscovered the lost grave of an influential 18th-century poet. My instincts proved right on this occasion, too... after much referencing and cross-referencing of clues from diverse sources, I pinpointed the location of the subterranean 'Temple'.

Through a gap in a rock formation...

...is a hidden entrance!

Deep in the Eden Valley countryside we strike... scrambling up banks, winding through beech and birch, twisting around scrub... Eldest deviates to track a herd of fallow deer, and in the process finds a cervine skull. Another one for his collection. And then, after a scramble through untidy bracken, we find our destination right where I had pinpointed it.

Excellent! More spiders

The Gothic shape of the tunnel

This construction varies from the Chiddingstone grotto in notable ways. The tunnel is carved in an arch shape, and ends in a cruciform chamber. There are also considerably more arachnids skulking on the walls. Beyond its Gothic style,  its design is reminiscent of the Cotswold/Severn Long Barrows of the Neolithic, such as West Kennet and Wayland's Smithy.

Tealight scarring at the rear of the chamber

Fungal infection

Evidence of smoke damage from tealights show that the cave has received visitors other than us, although it is impossible to detect how long ago. Cracks in the walls show evidence of bat roosts... perhaps another reason this secret is a secret.

Back in the open

Graffiti next to entrance, dated 1900. What is a 'blagbor'??

The cave is certainly a curiosity. Nobody knows when or why it was constructed, yet the graffiti around its entrance - dating as far back as late Victorian times - suggests that at some stage, it was better known. Mithraic Temple? A nice idea, but unlikely. The cult of Mithras is associated with Roman soldiers, and there were no forts in the area. A grotto? Perhaps, and care was taken to carve it in a Gothic fashion, but to what purpose? It's in the middle of nowhere!

More graffiti, none of it recent

Another mystery. Shepherd's shelter?

Eldest and I complete our exploration of the 'temple' and emerge into the wintry Kent air, examining the graffiti carved into the sandstone by visitors past. Further along the outcrop is another feature, and another mystery. An alcove, carved into the rock. We decide, in the absence of any contextual clues, that it might be a shelter of some kind.

And off we go, to find a village with a pub that smells of woodsmoke. Today we have examined the rock formations of the Eden Valley, encountered a Chiding Stone, explored a grotto and located one of Kent's most closely guarded secrets. And its location, if you fancy a little exploring?

I'm not telling you.

It's a secret.

Mabon

The tumbled beech nuts form a scatter,
Lay strewn across their Autumnal bed.
Amid the trees, the Wiccan wanders -
We watch like sentries as she muses and ponders -
Framed by whispering leaves of amber and red.

Her coven emerges, like faeries and sprites,
Post-modern shadows of dryads and wights,
They gather, in circle, upon the old tomb -
This ancient reflection of Earth Mother's womb -
On a day that brings balance between dark and light.

A brief flow of mizzle causes beech leaves to quiver,
The Equinox breeze causes Druids to shiver,
A sputtering flame, on charcoal to feed -
A rich slice of apple, a fine horn of mead -
A plea to the Old Gods, to hark and come hither!

A gift to the compass points, Earth Air and Fire
And West brings us Water, wet the old chieftain's byre,
As above, so below, the Mysteries are kept -
In our magical circle, on which Heavens have wept,
The breeze lifts our voices, raising them higher.

A blessing upon those who call themselves Bard,
A blessing on those whom the old ways keep guard,
Upon the old tump, o'er which centuries have groaned -
For which Watches are held, and Elements atoned -
Through sunfire's glare, and earth torn and marred.

Now spent, we disperse, through the light playful rain,
And next time at Yule, the chance may come again,
To rebuild the circle at Coldrum's sharp frost -
To revive the Mysteries and the old Chieftain's ghost -
And take up the Old Lore for spiritual gain.


(...for NRE, the girl with the darkest eyes and the brightest soul.)