Chapter 8: Gigs and Trigs

I have mentioned in passing a couple of things, which now came together in the week before Christmas.  Probably the ultimate trigpointer is a chap called Rob Woodall, who has managed to bag every extant triangulation pillar bar two (Mam Mor and Kininny Braes, both on highly secretive military bases).  Very occasionally, a hitherto unknown pillar will be discovered, such as the previously mentioned S5549 Bricksbury Hill, the remains of which came to light in May 2020, or more recently S2699 Langstone which was uncovered on a pebble beach in Portsmouth in August 2023, some seventy-eight years after it was believed destroyed.  The discovery of a pillar near Loch Ness in March 2022 (11865 Great Glen Project Station D) had led its finders to log it on Trigpointing UK alongside selfies of themselves holding up handmade signs bearing the legend BBRW:  Bagged Before Rob Woodall!  It seems the gentleman is sufficiently highly regarded in the community that it’s a badge of honour to bag a trigpoint before he has visited it.  It’s a badge rarely claimed since he completed his trigbagging in 2012, as newly discovered pillars are quite rare, and when one does emerge, he’s on it like a car bonnet!  And yet, there was one right under my nose this whole time, which I had plenty of opportunity to discover before anybody else…

 

Prior to December 2022, there was no record anywhere of S3210 Denison Barracks, a short distance up the M4 in Hermitage.  I have already noted the existence of a row of three cylindrical concrete bollards at this location, behind a chain link fence on the edge of the compound, but next to a public right of way that led down a track to a quarry.  Because they were not actually pillars themselves, but merely mounts for the brass three-legged spiders which normally sit atop the pillars, I mentally filed them away as being of tangential interest only.  More fool me.  In December 2022, a local trigpointer walked that footpath and stumbled upon S3210 in the far corner of the barracks.  He logged his find on Trigpointing UK, where it went unnoticed by the wider community until it was spotted by me.  (I am always interested to see how other trigpointers fare at the sites I’ve visited, so I keep a keen eye on the latest logs there.)  At the first opportunity, I finally got off my backside and visited the site.  Yep, there it is – a lost pillar!  It was behind a barbed-wire topped chain link fence, but it was very close to it, and the flush bracket (uniquely positioned halfway up the pillar instead of at the bottom) was very easily readable.  I couldn’t photograph it quickly enough, and I uploaded those photos to the Facebook group with all speed.  I might not be its discoverer (though I am the first person to find the other seven bollards at this site), but I’ll settle for being its second ever visitor and the only other person who can claim it as a BBRW, as Mr. Woodall hot-footed it down from Scotland to bag it himself very shortly afterwards.  The fact I have a BBRW to my name makes me very happy indeed, though naturally I must still bow my head to the trigpointer who found it first, and of course to Mr. Woodall himself, whose pioneering trigsploits are the stuff of legend.

 

I understand that the numbers S3209, S3211, S3213 and S3215 all remain unaccounted for.  Are there still other pillars out there which aren’t on the Ordnance Survey’s public records?

 

Boxing Day 2022 was grey and damp, and therefore wasn’t my favourite trigspedition, but the sun came out at S1703 Fosbury Camp after a long walk up two sides of a large field and across a hillfort.  S1927 Wick Down (Andover) was accessible via a field containing half a dozen very curious horses, who followed me up the short right of way at the edge of their field, and then followed me back down again on my return.  I don’t mind horses – they’re generally quite friendly and gentle, and I don’t find them imposing if they approach me.  Cattle, on the other hand, I’m very wary of, and with good reason… but I’m getting ahead of myself – that’s all to come.  I rang in the new year with 350 pillars under my belt – a nice round total that I kept very quiet about in front of my missus!

 

January 2023, and I’d been alerted to a gig by a band I followed in the small and unassuming venue of Congresbury Village Hall, somewhat south of Bristol.  It was on a Saturday, and I had no other plans, so I thought I’d check the map to see if there were any pillars along the way to justify the trip.  Somewhat unintentionally, this expanded into a full blown road trip around the southern edge of the city, then out towards a couple of promontories into the Severn, before heading back inland to Congresbury.  The first of the Severn pillars was S3269 Middle Hope (or is it Sand Point?), which took a lot less time to find than it did to use the painfully irritating and inadequate parking app which is the only method of payment accepted by the car park below it.  The second was S3270 Brean Down, served by a somewhat more expensive car park, but one which was more than happy to take my coins, and which was bordered by cafes and amenities for the many tourists visiting the popular seaside resort of Weston-Super-Mare.  There’s about a kilometre of walking to be done to reach this pillar, but it’s a very enjoyable walk with stunning sea views either side.  Before you do it, though, there’s the cliff edge to be negotiated, and whilst it has a set of large steps cut into its side, there are a few places without handrails (including the last little section right at the top), where looking down is very disconcerting.  However, the fact that the steps were there at all made me feel a lot more secure than the likes of Cley Hill or High Peak did, and the trouble I had with those did not recur here.  Brean Down is a beauty spot which I’d recommend to anyone who likes a good walk, and I was sorry to leave it behind.

 

S3247 Wavering Downs involved a very substantial walk, a large amount of which was uphill, but as ever, the higher you climb, the better the views, and the vast expanse of fields that stretched out below me from this trig was a delight to see.  I’ve found painted pebbles on trigs a few times (S5556 Hawley and S2590 Pentridge Hill to name but two), and that very morning I’d seen more at S3376 Shirehampton Golf Course and – improbably – S3384 Kings Weston, an awkwardly out-of-the-way pillar off the beaten track in a hillside wood, and right up against the back fence of a house.  However, I’d never seen as many as seven at a single pillar, but seven painted pebbles were neatly laid out at the base of the Wavering Downs trig, all in bright colours with life affirming messages painted onto them.  It’s always tempting to take them as souvenirs, though I’ve never done so.  I hope the trigpointers who came after me all enjoyed them, too.

 

The long walk back to the car park saw the sun slowly set, so I made my way from Wavering to Congresbury, an hour or so early for the gig, but as the car park beside the village hall was free, I pulled in there and investigated the local pub, where I was served with a generous and delicious roast dinner before I returned to the hall for a warm and friendly evening of whimsical folk music in one of the best venues it’s been my good fortune to discover.  Gigs and trigs – is there a better way to spend the day?  This would become a bit of A Thing in itself…

 

I had a more ambitious plan for that day than I was able to execute, though, so I returned to the area a couple of weeks later to visit the pillars I ran out of time for, and tick off a few in the less salubrious locations on the outskirts of Bristol.  I’d long avoided visiting this city for trig purposes, because much as I love the place, it has some right horrors in it.  I’ve already talked about S3374 Ilchester Crescent, so very long ago now, and on my Congresbury trip I’d found the decapitated remains of S3368 Penpole on a litter-strewn path; the aforementioned S3376 Shirehampton Golf Course, hidden in a scrubby bramble patch at the edge of the course; and the aforementioned S3384 Kings Weston, where my selfie taking was accompanied by the incessant barking of the dog in the house beside the pillar.  To this, I added S3385 Cock Road, in the centre of a spiky bush in a park off a litter-strewn highway; S3382 Conham, in a patch of nettles beside some railings at the back of a housing estate; S3356 Longwell, sat in a hedge fenced off from the hillside, and accessed via a wide pathway strewn with dog mess; and favourite of all, S3367 Broom Hill, which is buried up to half its height in a makeshift rubbish tip beside a grotty, muddy track running behind another housing estate.  Some pillars fill me with joy with their incredible views; others make me wonder why on Earth I do this.  Bristol really does not love its trigs, and yet there are so many of them encompassed within its ever-expanding boundary.  The day was not improved by an aborted attempt to bag a pillar beside an industrial quarry in Dundry, which after some initial exploring and careful consideration I reluctantly decided was simply too dangerous a place for me to go clambering about unescorted.

 

However, as the afternoon wore on, and the further from Bristol I drove, things improved considerably.  S1516 Blagdon sits atop a stony mound at the summit of a large scrubby hill populated by cows and ponies, the latter of which are completely unfazed by the many humans who ramble across their territory.  A wide roadside car park to the north provides easy access for walkers, who were sufficiently plentiful that I had to queue to bag the pillar!  Both the immediate scenery and the views from the top make it very obvious why this place is so popular.  And then there was S2557 Burledge Hill, at the crest of an extremely beautiful partially-wooded hill covered in small dips and rises which offered a challenging but attractive walk through the hidden paths that led up the steep side to the summit.  I was rewarded by a fabulous view across the Chew Valley Lake from one of my favourite pillars in the region.  And a quick mention for S9526 Maes Knoll, sat in the middle of a grassy hillfort, which is noteworthy for its bracket number (S9000s are exceptionally rare down south) and the fact that a blue plaque on the house opposite the pathway proudly declares that “nothing of interest has happened here”!

 

2023 turned out to be an exceptionally wet year, and I’ve previously noted I’m not the kind of person to go outside on rainy days.  It frustrated me for several weeks that my free weekends did not align with the few gaps in the downpours, and I was particularly keen to go somewhere a bit more scenic than suburban Bristol for my next trip.  It was Good Friday when I next donned my Trig Point Addicted tee shirt and went to Gloucester, heeding well the cautionary tale of Doctor Foster and ensuring no showers of rain were on the horizon.  I am convinced, however, that the puddle he stepped in was probably the one at the start of the path to S5026 Robinswood Hill, which was several times the width of your average pond.  I declined to find out whether it came up to my middle; fortunately, Robinswood Hill is a tourist attraction with many routes leading to its summit, and I easily found another one.  Said summit, patrolled by a herd of mercifully disinterested cattle, is covered in hill furniture, with a toposcope, a beacon commemorating Queen Elizabeth II’s golden jubilee, and an information board all standing proud beside the pillar.  There’s also a sculpture garden and a visitors’ centre at the bottom, for added interest.  The early morning view took my breath away far more than the ascent did, being impressive and expansive in almost every direction.  Despite the hour, there were a few other ramblers up here too, who I chatted to quite happily whilst waiting my turn for a trig selfie.  The tone of the day was thus set: this trip was going to be a good one.

 

S5303 (apparently) Chosen Hill is an unusual pillar, having been soundly preserved by the National Trust who saw fit to completely encase it in a brick-style concrete overcoat.  The only part of the pillar which can still be seen is the spider on the top, and to get to that you’d need to unscrew the toposcope that crowns it.  (No, I didn’t.)  Whilst it’s nice to know the pillar is still there beneath its rocky casing, I do view this treatment as being tantamount to vandalism, really.  But it still counts, and I enjoyed another superb view over Barnwood whilst my car happily observed the pretty little church opposite the reservoir that shares the summit of the hill.

 

S5151 May Hill is a rustic pillar built from rough cut bricks, sitting beside a copse planted for another royal milestone (a sign amongst the trees commemorates the golden jubilee of Queen Victoria).  Another beautiful and interesting location, May Hill was made famous in recent years by The Verve’s Richard Ashcroft who shot the video to his single “Rather Be” there.  The pillar can just about be glimpsed halfway through the video.  And for the third time in three pillars, I found another toposcope – a rather scratched one has been fitted to the top of the trig.

 

S6315 Chestnuts Inclosure is in the middle of a wood supposedly home to a number of wild boar, though I certainly didn’t see any as I went crashing through the muddy foliage in broad daylight.  I did, however, spot the fenced off derelict well a few metres from the pillar, which carries the world’s smallest and most useless Danger sign on its woodwork.

 

S6274 Ruardean Hill Reservoir was a frustrating one, as it is caged several metres behind the fence which encloses the rather grotty reservoir compound, with much signage discouraging a visit as it was something of a building site at the time.  I snapped the trig from the gates.  My frustration, however, stems from the fact that the beautiful village green mere metres away is dotted with a summit marker, another beacon, various memorials, and yet another toposcope, this one resting on the back of the statue of a hunched miner.  It feels so unjust that all this hill furniture is allowed to roam freely around the village whilst the pillar remains cruelly imprisoned!

 

The trip’s unexpected highlight was S6313 Coppet Hill (Herefordshire).  A pathway runs straight to the trig from a handy layby to the east, crossing a disused Victorian limekiln en route.  There’s an unprotected vertical edge along the way, but the visual effect is quite stunning - the walk through the woods, particularly in spring, is fairytale beautiful, and is very highly recommended.  Emerging from the wood, the pillar stands in excellent condition on a well-kept patch of short grass, and overlooks an exceptional view of Herefordshire - one of the most impressive I have enjoyed.  I stayed here for a good half hour, just sitting on the hillside beside the pillar taking in the scenery.  Coppet Hill remains one of my favourite pillars to date.

 

And then in the beautiful town of Ross-On-Wye, S7289 Chase Hill sits on top of a steep wooded hill.  The path to the top is easy to lose once you enter the wood, and I found myself scrabbling up several steep sections, clinging on to the trees for dear life as I went.  My vertigo was triggered again on a few occasions, I have to admit – it wouldn’t have been if I’d stuck to the path on the edge of the wood, which I only found on the way back down.  I think this is probably the steepest slope I’ve actually gone up (I say again, I am not a mountaineer – not even slightly – and I have endless respect for trigpointers in the more vertical parts of Britain).  As I crashed my way up the hill, I startled a pair of dormice who scurried away through the undergrowth between my feet.  I then spotted a makeshift tent halfway up, hidden deep among the trees.  Someone actually lives here?  I thought better of investigating further, and made an awkward scramble even more circuitous by going out of my way to avoid it.  Eventually reaching the summit, after picking up a winding trail near the top, I found to my relief that the barbed wire fence surrounding the field at the summit was completely trodden down at the far end, and from there, accessing the pillar was no problem.  With the field surrounded on all sides by the wood, the spectacular view the pillar must presumably have once enjoyed was no longer there, which is a pity after the exertions of the ascent.

 

A drive-by bagging of S1508 Stinchcombe on the way back home made up for it, though, as this little golf course dweller enjoys a fine view across the Severn and into Wales.  Whilst Wales is undoubtedly very beautiful, I ruled out a trigspedition there any time soon, thinking it was a bit too far afield, and very hilly. 

 

In the meantime, another gig – this one in my beloved Brighton – loomed large in my diary, so I simply had to bag a few trigs that afternoon on the way down.  Only four, but all with a decent amount of walking involved.  I was slightly alarmed by a herd of stampeding cattle at the base of S4047 Cissbury Ring, which were running across the bottom field on my way back down, and cutting me off from my car.  Turned out the farmer had showed up, which meant feeding time!  I only had to wait a few minutes before they were all out of the way and suitably distracted, but seeing so many animals that size thundering along at such a speed reminded me why I’m very wary of them.  Another herd then blocked my path back from S4014 Steep Down (Sompting) – they must have wandered across the base of the hill whilst I was bagging the trig, and they stood right in front of the gate at the bottom of the hill.  I walked very slowly but purposefully towards them, talking to them in what I thought was a suitably soothing and unthreatening tone.  The beasties eyed me warily, but didn’t move, and to my immense relief, let me through the gate.  Cattle make me nervous – a long time ago, I lived below a cowfield which I had to cross every morning on my way to the station.  I’d never had a problem with them for years, until the day they chased me across it, completely unprovoked.  I’ve tried to avoid them ever since.  Their unpredictability makes them my least favourite trigpointing hazard.

 

Adventures with cattle I could do without.  Where shall I go next, then?  Fairly sure I said I wasn’t going to go to Wales.  Did I mention you shouldn’t believe anything until I’ve denied it?  A member of the interest group on Facebook had posted details of a trigspedition of his own, bagging a significant number of pillars on the Gower Peninsula in a single day.  And the scenery looked stunning.  I’d thought I was the only one who blocked out entire days to go trigging, but it seemed not, and here was a part of the world which apparently offered a lot of easy pillars in close proximity.  I looked at the map – where was the Gower Peninsula anyway?  Turns out it’s just down the road.  OK, it’s a very long road called the M4, and I was about thirty junctions away from it, but with such a fast and direct route straight there, perhaps it wasn’t so far out of reach...  I looked up each of the pillars on Trigpointing UK.  There were sixteen still extant, and the logs suggested all bar one of them were easily baggable.  I’d need a very early start, though, even with the lengthening of the days – if I wanted to fit fifteen pillars into a single trip, I’d be looking at arriving at the first one around sunrise.  I plotted out a route, and set my alarm for an eye-watering 3am...