Chapter 10: Onwards and Upwards
I was back before July was out. S1906 Milton Hill and S1907 Inham Downs gave me a run of six consecutive pillars. The former was stained slightly red, perhaps appropriately as the path to it led past some trees planted as memorials for local soldiers, fallen in the two world wars. Martinsell was visible on the horizon; I was grateful that the wood surrounding this pillar wasn’t as dense or impenetrable as that one had been. The latter led me through fields of cattle, but these were safely penned in behind electric fences. It rained as I trudged across the open field to the pillar, and I struggled to take selfies with my phone in one hand and my umbrella in the other. S2172 Knighton Down (Larkhill) was on military land, on a mound next to a training centre on the edge of Salisbury Plain. A soldier sat in a pickup truck beside the mound. I asked if it would be okay to nip up and bag the pillar; he told me people weren’t normally allowed up there, but on seeing my Trig Point Addicted t-shirt, he said he’d turn his back for five minutes for me. S1941 Claypit Hill was beside a solar panel enclosure, and reaching it involved crossing a well-worn footpath through a large field of shoulder-high wheat. S2171 Codford Circle was nearby, in the centre of a grassy hillfort beside a meadow full of brightly coloured flowers. That one gave me a consecutive run of five. S2187 Corton Down was serving a lengthy prison sentence, sat just inside the sturdy metal railings that enclosed a reservoir, but close enough that its bracket could be easily read. S2185 Furze Hedge Barn was also inside a reservoir enclosure, but accessible by hopping a metal gate covered in various informative (but not discouraging) signage. The lengthy track from the west had been liberally sprayed with manure, which was probably more appreciated by the colourful flowers that grew in large quantities across the field beside the reservoir than it was by me. Highlight of this trip, however, was S2183 Cold Kitchen. Parking in a layby specifically reserved for my car (it had a triangular sign beside it saying Ford), I followed a footpath up a steep hillside field full of sheep, to a gate at the far end which opened up onto a stony track leading further up the hill, where a beacon sat at a junction. A sharp turn to the summit then led to the pillar, sitting proudly on top of the world, and enjoying a 360° view of the fields and villages of Wiltshire. No rips, no stings, and no stampeding livestock. A quick drive-by visit to S2184 Horningsham whilst I’m here (making a consecutive run of three), and I headed home grateful for an incident-free day. Back? Never went away.
Let’s keep this going – I’m far from done with this section of the A303. Only a fortnight later, and I’ve got an ambitious plan for another sixteen pillars, somewhere between Sparkford and Milton Abbas. S5867 Melbury Bubb has a wonderful name and is an easily baggable trig, curiously nowhere near the summit of the hill it’s on, and accessible from a rather uninteresting road junction with the overly dramatic name of Hell Corner. S5719 Knighton Hill involved crossing a cattlefield, but after hanging around by the field gate for a few minutes, this herd turned out to be docile and disinterested, and paid me little attention. Sadly, the same could not be said for the herd at Batcombe, so the pillar there will have to keep for now. S1513 Gore Hill was a low-numbered field-dweller that proved to be a far less troublesome (but also far less spectacular) bag than its numerical neighbour. S1506 Bulbarrow was tucked away behind a mast complex and an electric fence, in a small field full of daisies. S5850 Hermitage sat on the edge of a sheer drop, surrounded by lush ferns and bracken that attracted swarms of flies. S5908 Milton Abbas was hiding next to a cricket pitch, right beside the pavilion… keep them coming, ‘cos I want to put the memories of July 7th far behind me…
S6026 Knackers Hole (north east of Droop, south west of Fiddleford, and somehow never the setting for a Carry On movie) is set in a hedge a short distance away from an imposing wind turbine. The field that leads to the pillar contained an old shed that had been roughly graffiti-ed to turn it into a makeshift pub, The Barkhill Arms, and had a table and chairs set up outside it by way of a beer garden. The “pub” was closed at the time of my visit; perhaps I should return one day when it’s open for business. Or perhaps not. I’m not sure I’d trust any liquid refreshment from an establishment whose local river is called the Piddle (I swear I’m not making this up!). Numerically adjacent to it is S6025 Shilling Stone Hill, sat alongside a well-maintained and signposted byway. I love seeing signposts to trig pillars, because it indicates someone is proud to look after them and have people visit them. Sadly, they’re all too rare. The walk up to this one was a joy, however, in a scenic and easy to reach grassy location populated by fearless and inquisitive ladybirds. And completing the Knackers Hole sandwich is S6027 Down End Farm, moved from a private field to an unenclosed lawn beside a footpath. Being beside the main driveway of a farmhouse, bagging this one feels like a trespass even though it’s so close to a PROW, but the fact I was observed and not challenged by the various occupants of the house coming and going as I took my selfies seems to indicate that the landowners are happy to encourage trigbaggers in the pillar’s new location – presumably why they moved it. I took care to angle all my pictures away from the farm. I have no wish to invade anyone’s privacy.
S5901 Hambledon Hill was the standout on this particular day. A short woodland trail emerges at the bottom of a grassy sheepfield on the side of a reasonably steep hill, that eventually levels out towards a summit with a very far reaching view, and a trigpoint that sits behind a gate at a junction of footpaths. I suppressed a desire to explore the hills off to the north west, which rise and fall dramatically into the distance and look like they’d be an absolute joy to walk. One day I’ll come back to this tiring but extremely photogenic location. Had a lovely chat with another lost cyclist at the top of this hill whilst I caught my breath. Not being a local, I wasn’t able to provide him with much by the way of directions, but it was a pleasantly sunny afternoon in a beautiful place, and he didn’t seem too worried about finding his way again once I’d reassured him there was a road to Child Okeford at the bottom of the hill. A family of ramblers climbing up as I left proved the popularity of this location. Sometimes these trigpoints take me to the most gloriously beautiful places.
Gigs and trigs… September 2023, and a favourite band had a gig in Vauxhall, which gave me the chance to call in at the extremely affluent town of Richmond on my train journey there, purely to bag the pillar in the park. I’d had my eye on that one for a very long time, and was glad to finally cross it off my list. S3264 Richmond Park is a fairly unremarkable pillar, but the wooded valley views from the roadside terraces on the way up are worth seeing.
October 9th saw the brief return of the Eccentric Trig Bagger making a post-work detour to S1655 Weston Down (Micheldever Station) before the clocks went back and stole the remains of the daylight from the evenings. This was a mere prelude to the main event – my next trigspedition the following weekend would begin with the most spectacular view of them all: watching the sunrise from the Worcestershire Beacon. 2974 Malvern marks the Worcestershire county top, higher up than I’ve ever been in England (I know, I’ve got a long way still to go), and even at 7am, it’s a hugely popular tourist spot. I reached the trig just as the darkness was receding, and I have more photos of this pillar’s location than any other, as I was keen to capture the golden morning light spreading out across the vast swathes of southern England that were laid out below my feet. If only I had the place to myself – as the sun came up, more and more ramblers and dog walkers made their way to the rocky outcrop on the summit, their presence up here at such an early hour being testament to the spectacular beauty of the place. I remained to watch the sun clear the horizon before I reluctantly moved on – naturally, I hadn’t driven all this way at sleepy o’clock in the morning for just one pillar, however amazing its setting…
So there followed S7271 Oyster Hill, on an easily accessible hillside. I thought I was alone up there, and it was only when I checked my photos at the end of the day that I spotted the sheep, spying on me from the sidelines! And then there was S7282 White Hill Reservoir, nestled amid a large clump of brambles on the wrong side of a rather puny barbed wire fence, next to a reservoir hidden in a maze of woodland paths. The hill on which this reservoir can be found is pretty grotty, unfortunately, as it seems to be a popular fly-tipping location, with discarded toys, furniture, white goods, and even an abandoned car all littering the base of the hill beside a footpath which is well hidden beneath the overgrown foliage, and which is very easy to lose where it enters the wood halfway up the hillside. You would not find this place by accident! S6403 Backbury Hill sits beside the path atop a far more pleasant wooded hill; S7270 Marcle Hill is tucked away in the centre of a narrow woodland path beside a field; and S7284 Capler Camp is halfway down the path that leads from a large hillfort. All very much business as usual. The other pillar on the Great Malvern ridge is S5030 Chase End, down at the southern end. Undoubtedly the other highlight of the day, it sits beside a dip on a pleasant and popular grassy hilltop, where it shows a continual stream of walkers where to best enjoy the views.
Another gigspedition (I think this needs to be a word, given the number of times I’ve combined bagging trigs with seeing bands) took me all the way up to Burton upon Trent in November 2023, quite a way out from my usual area. Being a rock fan, returning to Castle Donington brought back memories of my wasted teenage years, one of my first ever live concerts being AC/DC and Metallica at the 1991 Monsters Of Rock festival. This visit was somewhat lower key, and the only rock involved was 11801 Donington Reservoir, sat among a flourishing crop of brambles in a neglected field. I am easily pleased, however, and was quite satisfied with finding the highest numbered pillar on my list (so far). Elsewhere, S2312 Markfield sat atop a rocky outcrop overlooking a tranquil water-filled quarry, and 2962 Bardon Hill added to my collection of county tops, as I enjoyed a view across Leicestershire from beside a pillar mounted on an impressive plinth, right between a low and twisty woodland that looked like something from a storybook, and another, much larger quarry that necessitated taking a circuitous walk around its edge. Over the border in Derbyshire, S1724 Robin Hill and S2239 Hoon Mount both carry large plaques on the entirety of their bracket-side faces, marking local legends and points of interest; I don’t know if this is A Thing peculiar to Derbyshire, but I’m very tempted to make the long drive up here again and find out. I tutted in disapproval at the litter left at Robin Hill, only to later curse in annoyance that I’d unwittingly added to it by leaving my nettlewhacker hanging on the hedge there.
Rain stopped play after Christmas, ending an unusually wet year in a disappointingly consistent manner. January saw the forecast changing from one day to the next, so I was never entirely sure when I’d be able to go out again. My poor long-suffering missus had to endure several rants about the forecast and climate change, and how useless the BBC weathermen were! I planned a couple of trips anyway, and ensured I was ready to go out again at a day’s notice. Well, I’d bought myself a new walking stick for Christmas, and I wanted to use it!
Back in dim and distant 2019, I’d made a post-work detour to Blewbury, a little village not a million miles away from my childhood home of Goring-on-Thames. This would have been about 48 hours before the last of the cooling towers at Didcot were demolished - you can see them in the background of my photos, and I remember the event being on the local news very soon afterwards. The trig pillar there is on a piece of access land behind a farm, sandwiched in between two fences that run up the top of the hill. There was a lovely golden sunset on the day I bagged S3738 Blewburton Hill… none of which explains why I recall this pillar right now – there’s a much nerdier reason I mention it. My surname is Burton. There are quite a few places called Burton in the UK (most notably the one two paragraphs previously), but this was the first trig pillar I’d found whose name included it. I’d wondered if there were any that included my first name, and I idly typed it into the search engine on the Benchmarking website. Not only did I find one, but it bore the number immediately before this one! Now that was a coincidence that was too good to pass up. Bringing up Trigpointing UK revealed its location – it wasn’t exactly local, but nor was it out of reach, being in a cowfield on the edge of the Exmoor National Park, a few miles north west of Taunton. I vowed I wouldn’t stop trigging until I’d bagged S3737 Brompton Ralph – I absolutely needed this consecutive pair on my spreadsheet!
Fast forward five years. I’d proved I can stretch out as far as Exeter for a trigging day, and I’d recently been venturing out as far as Bristol and (almost) Yeovil in my exploits. Taunton was certainly doable, and the journey mostly involved a trip down the M4 and M5. At the height of winter, the field was unlikely to be infested with cattle, so this seemed the ideal time to pay my Somerset namesake a visit. I drew up a shortlist of nearby pillars, and jotted down a route which culminated in a trio down the western edge of The Quantocks.
And on the first weekend of 2024, the skies cleared...
Let’s keep this going – I’m far from done with this section of the A303. Only a fortnight later, and I’ve got an ambitious plan for another sixteen pillars, somewhere between Sparkford and Milton Abbas. S5867 Melbury Bubb has a wonderful name and is an easily baggable trig, curiously nowhere near the summit of the hill it’s on, and accessible from a rather uninteresting road junction with the overly dramatic name of Hell Corner. S5719 Knighton Hill involved crossing a cattlefield, but after hanging around by the field gate for a few minutes, this herd turned out to be docile and disinterested, and paid me little attention. Sadly, the same could not be said for the herd at Batcombe, so the pillar there will have to keep for now. S1513 Gore Hill was a low-numbered field-dweller that proved to be a far less troublesome (but also far less spectacular) bag than its numerical neighbour. S1506 Bulbarrow was tucked away behind a mast complex and an electric fence, in a small field full of daisies. S5850 Hermitage sat on the edge of a sheer drop, surrounded by lush ferns and bracken that attracted swarms of flies. S5908 Milton Abbas was hiding next to a cricket pitch, right beside the pavilion… keep them coming, ‘cos I want to put the memories of July 7th far behind me…
S6026 Knackers Hole (north east of Droop, south west of Fiddleford, and somehow never the setting for a Carry On movie) is set in a hedge a short distance away from an imposing wind turbine. The field that leads to the pillar contained an old shed that had been roughly graffiti-ed to turn it into a makeshift pub, The Barkhill Arms, and had a table and chairs set up outside it by way of a beer garden. The “pub” was closed at the time of my visit; perhaps I should return one day when it’s open for business. Or perhaps not. I’m not sure I’d trust any liquid refreshment from an establishment whose local river is called the Piddle (I swear I’m not making this up!). Numerically adjacent to it is S6025 Shilling Stone Hill, sat alongside a well-maintained and signposted byway. I love seeing signposts to trig pillars, because it indicates someone is proud to look after them and have people visit them. Sadly, they’re all too rare. The walk up to this one was a joy, however, in a scenic and easy to reach grassy location populated by fearless and inquisitive ladybirds. And completing the Knackers Hole sandwich is S6027 Down End Farm, moved from a private field to an unenclosed lawn beside a footpath. Being beside the main driveway of a farmhouse, bagging this one feels like a trespass even though it’s so close to a PROW, but the fact I was observed and not challenged by the various occupants of the house coming and going as I took my selfies seems to indicate that the landowners are happy to encourage trigbaggers in the pillar’s new location – presumably why they moved it. I took care to angle all my pictures away from the farm. I have no wish to invade anyone’s privacy.
S5901 Hambledon Hill was the standout on this particular day. A short woodland trail emerges at the bottom of a grassy sheepfield on the side of a reasonably steep hill, that eventually levels out towards a summit with a very far reaching view, and a trigpoint that sits behind a gate at a junction of footpaths. I suppressed a desire to explore the hills off to the north west, which rise and fall dramatically into the distance and look like they’d be an absolute joy to walk. One day I’ll come back to this tiring but extremely photogenic location. Had a lovely chat with another lost cyclist at the top of this hill whilst I caught my breath. Not being a local, I wasn’t able to provide him with much by the way of directions, but it was a pleasantly sunny afternoon in a beautiful place, and he didn’t seem too worried about finding his way again once I’d reassured him there was a road to Child Okeford at the bottom of the hill. A family of ramblers climbing up as I left proved the popularity of this location. Sometimes these trigpoints take me to the most gloriously beautiful places.
Gigs and trigs… September 2023, and a favourite band had a gig in Vauxhall, which gave me the chance to call in at the extremely affluent town of Richmond on my train journey there, purely to bag the pillar in the park. I’d had my eye on that one for a very long time, and was glad to finally cross it off my list. S3264 Richmond Park is a fairly unremarkable pillar, but the wooded valley views from the roadside terraces on the way up are worth seeing.
October 9th saw the brief return of the Eccentric Trig Bagger making a post-work detour to S1655 Weston Down (Micheldever Station) before the clocks went back and stole the remains of the daylight from the evenings. This was a mere prelude to the main event – my next trigspedition the following weekend would begin with the most spectacular view of them all: watching the sunrise from the Worcestershire Beacon. 2974 Malvern marks the Worcestershire county top, higher up than I’ve ever been in England (I know, I’ve got a long way still to go), and even at 7am, it’s a hugely popular tourist spot. I reached the trig just as the darkness was receding, and I have more photos of this pillar’s location than any other, as I was keen to capture the golden morning light spreading out across the vast swathes of southern England that were laid out below my feet. If only I had the place to myself – as the sun came up, more and more ramblers and dog walkers made their way to the rocky outcrop on the summit, their presence up here at such an early hour being testament to the spectacular beauty of the place. I remained to watch the sun clear the horizon before I reluctantly moved on – naturally, I hadn’t driven all this way at sleepy o’clock in the morning for just one pillar, however amazing its setting…
So there followed S7271 Oyster Hill, on an easily accessible hillside. I thought I was alone up there, and it was only when I checked my photos at the end of the day that I spotted the sheep, spying on me from the sidelines! And then there was S7282 White Hill Reservoir, nestled amid a large clump of brambles on the wrong side of a rather puny barbed wire fence, next to a reservoir hidden in a maze of woodland paths. The hill on which this reservoir can be found is pretty grotty, unfortunately, as it seems to be a popular fly-tipping location, with discarded toys, furniture, white goods, and even an abandoned car all littering the base of the hill beside a footpath which is well hidden beneath the overgrown foliage, and which is very easy to lose where it enters the wood halfway up the hillside. You would not find this place by accident! S6403 Backbury Hill sits beside the path atop a far more pleasant wooded hill; S7270 Marcle Hill is tucked away in the centre of a narrow woodland path beside a field; and S7284 Capler Camp is halfway down the path that leads from a large hillfort. All very much business as usual. The other pillar on the Great Malvern ridge is S5030 Chase End, down at the southern end. Undoubtedly the other highlight of the day, it sits beside a dip on a pleasant and popular grassy hilltop, where it shows a continual stream of walkers where to best enjoy the views.
Another gigspedition (I think this needs to be a word, given the number of times I’ve combined bagging trigs with seeing bands) took me all the way up to Burton upon Trent in November 2023, quite a way out from my usual area. Being a rock fan, returning to Castle Donington brought back memories of my wasted teenage years, one of my first ever live concerts being AC/DC and Metallica at the 1991 Monsters Of Rock festival. This visit was somewhat lower key, and the only rock involved was 11801 Donington Reservoir, sat among a flourishing crop of brambles in a neglected field. I am easily pleased, however, and was quite satisfied with finding the highest numbered pillar on my list (so far). Elsewhere, S2312 Markfield sat atop a rocky outcrop overlooking a tranquil water-filled quarry, and 2962 Bardon Hill added to my collection of county tops, as I enjoyed a view across Leicestershire from beside a pillar mounted on an impressive plinth, right between a low and twisty woodland that looked like something from a storybook, and another, much larger quarry that necessitated taking a circuitous walk around its edge. Over the border in Derbyshire, S1724 Robin Hill and S2239 Hoon Mount both carry large plaques on the entirety of their bracket-side faces, marking local legends and points of interest; I don’t know if this is A Thing peculiar to Derbyshire, but I’m very tempted to make the long drive up here again and find out. I tutted in disapproval at the litter left at Robin Hill, only to later curse in annoyance that I’d unwittingly added to it by leaving my nettlewhacker hanging on the hedge there.
Rain stopped play after Christmas, ending an unusually wet year in a disappointingly consistent manner. January saw the forecast changing from one day to the next, so I was never entirely sure when I’d be able to go out again. My poor long-suffering missus had to endure several rants about the forecast and climate change, and how useless the BBC weathermen were! I planned a couple of trips anyway, and ensured I was ready to go out again at a day’s notice. Well, I’d bought myself a new walking stick for Christmas, and I wanted to use it!
Back in dim and distant 2019, I’d made a post-work detour to Blewbury, a little village not a million miles away from my childhood home of Goring-on-Thames. This would have been about 48 hours before the last of the cooling towers at Didcot were demolished - you can see them in the background of my photos, and I remember the event being on the local news very soon afterwards. The trig pillar there is on a piece of access land behind a farm, sandwiched in between two fences that run up the top of the hill. There was a lovely golden sunset on the day I bagged S3738 Blewburton Hill… none of which explains why I recall this pillar right now – there’s a much nerdier reason I mention it. My surname is Burton. There are quite a few places called Burton in the UK (most notably the one two paragraphs previously), but this was the first trig pillar I’d found whose name included it. I’d wondered if there were any that included my first name, and I idly typed it into the search engine on the Benchmarking website. Not only did I find one, but it bore the number immediately before this one! Now that was a coincidence that was too good to pass up. Bringing up Trigpointing UK revealed its location – it wasn’t exactly local, but nor was it out of reach, being in a cowfield on the edge of the Exmoor National Park, a few miles north west of Taunton. I vowed I wouldn’t stop trigging until I’d bagged S3737 Brompton Ralph – I absolutely needed this consecutive pair on my spreadsheet!
Fast forward five years. I’d proved I can stretch out as far as Exeter for a trigging day, and I’d recently been venturing out as far as Bristol and (almost) Yeovil in my exploits. Taunton was certainly doable, and the journey mostly involved a trip down the M4 and M5. At the height of winter, the field was unlikely to be infested with cattle, so this seemed the ideal time to pay my Somerset namesake a visit. I drew up a shortlist of nearby pillars, and jotted down a route which culminated in a trio down the western edge of The Quantocks.
And on the first weekend of 2024, the skies cleared...
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