Rebsie

The first time I found this barrow was entirely by accident, not even knowing it was there – a real “wowee!” moment. As I’ve lived in Cheltenham (about four miles away) for most of my life I couldn’t believe I hadn’t found it before, and made a return visit a couple of weeks later. Although it’s in an open and exposed spot on the crest of the hill, the place is far enough off the beaten track that I had the place all to myself on both visits.

There are two ways to approach it by road: the most direct is the tiny little lane up past Ullenwood Court, which is single track and no fun if you meet a car coming the other way. You can park on the roadside next to the bridleway which runs past the barrow (a short walk), but doing so in February both me and the car got covered in mud. The other alternative is to walk up to it from Crickley Hill Country Park. It’s a longer walk, and you have to stump up a quid for the car park, but it’s a beautiful stroll. To get to it, walk northwards from the car park (i.e. the opposite direction from Crickley hillfort) through the gorgeous ancient beechwoods, and keep following the path beyond the boundary of the country park until you reach the strip of woodland called Barrow Piece. Within this wood is the gate leading into the field where Crippets barrow is impossible to miss.

The horses in the field are indeed very friendly and like to come over and check you out. On my second visit I was taking some infrared photographs which involves slow exposures and faffing around with tripods etc, and while I was busy composing a shot, a grey pony crept up behind me and began rummaging through my camera bag looking for treats. Having ascertained that I didn’t have anything for him he strode forward and contemptuously smacked the underside of my lens, sending camera and tripod flying, and walked off in disgust. Most of the others were more friendly though and just wanted their ears rubbed.

The eastern end of the barrow has a distinctive shape which I thought at first was a ‘horned’ entrance of the type common on Cotswold barrows but it turns out to be the damage left behind by 18th century pillagers. On my first visit I didn’t notice the capstone (if that’s what it is) sticking out of the ground, but I found it readily enough when I was looking for it the second time. It’s a fairly chunky slab but you can’t see much of it as it’s pretty nearly submerged in the earth.

I also missed the nearby round barrow on my first visit, but went back armed with a large-scale map and my best intuitive faculties and managed to find it. There is practically nothing left of it though, and I agree with the other reports – it’s been ploughed flat and is only distinguishable by a very slight circular undulation and a slight change in the texture of the ground.

Bredon Hill ... what a strange and magical place.

For a year in 1988/89 I lived in a farm cottage on its lower slopes, right underneath Kemerton Camp. I remember lying in bed at night listening to a strange unidentified hooting creature flying very slowly over the roof. Freaked the living daylights out of me. But it was a wonderful place to live. Great place for sun worship.

The hill is covered with relics of ancient activity, including two separate forts. Kemerton Camp is the largest, occupying the highest point of the hill on the north side, and making the most of a steep natural escarpment. The short stone tower on the top, known as Parsons Folly, dates from the late 18th century and was allegedly built to bring the height of the hill up to a round 1000ft, its natural height being 960ft. The slopes below the escarpment are covered in lumps and bumps, some of which are the foundations of an ancient village and some the remains of quarrying, and it’s hard to tell them apart. According to my former next-door neighbour, a local farm worker, the village of Nafford was originally located up here but was abandoned and later rebuilt further down the valley next to the River Avon. Among the bumps is the outline of a small rectangular building ... a medieval pilgrim’s chapel very close to the unassuming but still rather special St Catherine’s Well.

Conderton Camp, on the SE side of the hill, is much smaller and quite secluded ... possibly a peace-time settlement because it’s less obviously defended and has a very different feel to the larger fort.

There’s also an earthwork on the lower NE slopes of the hill just outside the village of Elmley Castle.

Slightly less ancient, but really well worth a visit, are some of the 11th and 12th century carvings in the village churches around the hill. Most spectacular is Beckford parish church, which has carvings on its chancel arch of a creature with antennae that looks like an alien. In a more mundane style the porch at Elmley Castle has a really groovy rabbit.

A little off the beaten track and much less visited than its neighbour Cleeve Hill, Nottingham Hill is a spur off the main Cotswold ridge a few miles outside Cheltenham.

The whole of the top of the hill is fortified, but the shape of the hill along with various field boundaries make it impossible to see the enclosure in its entirety. But there are some double banks and ditches, and no shortage of interesting things to look at. The slopes are covered with lumps and bumps from stone quarrying ... some of which are ancient and colonised by some strange and wonderful trees.

The highest point of the hill is an open field with a cairn at the top (not of any great age, but nice) and a fantastic 360° panoramic view covering the Malvern ridge, Bredon Hill, Cleeve Hill, the Cotswold ridge, various other local hills and distant Welsh mountains. Our ancestors certainly knew a good fort site when they saw one.

Nottingham Hill seems to have escaped attention in guide books and is one of Gloucestershire’s better kept secrets. I’d venture to suggest there’s a bit of a goddessy thing going on there. The earth is full of holes, dips and openings. The lower slopes (particularly on the N and E sides) are liberally dotted with springs, some of which are the sources of local brooks and streams. Most of the trees around the fort are elder, hazel or thorn. There’s also a very strange grove of trees on the southern edge just below the fort, where almost all the trees are hollow or have holes in them, growing in the dips and hummocks left by quarrying. Some are small finger-sized holes, some cup-shaped holes with grass and violets growing in them, some large oval holes right through the tree. With gorgeous views over the Severn Valley to go with it, it’s an incredibly evocative place.

I feel very sorry for the Tibblestone. The petrol station was built in the late 1980s, and is not the most sensitive bit of planning. The stone is small and unassuming, so it’s been dwarfed into insignificance by its brash neighbour. It’s difficult to feel much of an atmosphere here now, especially if you’re being stared at by people refuelling their cars. The busy A435 doesn’t help.

It did have plenty of atmosphere when I visited it in 1988, before the petrol station. It was much more integrated with the surrounding landscape, standing very close to a five-way road junction known as Teddington Hands (which lends its name to the nearby pub).

It’s a quirky little stone though, and deserves a visit from any sympathetic person who’s passing.