Hilton to Bulbarrow Hill in the wind & rain

[puddleshark]

The lane down to Stoke Wake and the Blackmore Vale.



It seems unlikely I will be able to take my traditional New Year's Day walk round the ramparts of an Iron Age Hillfort, as the forecast for tomorrow is terrible: heavy rain, winds gusting at sixty miles an hour. So I did a New Year's Eve walk around the ramparts of one of the tinier hillforts, Rawlsbury Camp, instead.


Left the car in the village of Hilton. There's not many places to park in the village, but, just past the church, there is a little lay-by beside Hillside Cottages. Headed down The Knapp, and onto the bridleway to Manor Farm.


A dark, grey morning. But down in the valley it was sheltered enough.


The bridleway along Hilton Bottom.


A lonely path, through empty fields, passing dilapidated barns. Not a deer, not a pigeon, not a soul met. Only the cawing of the rooks for company, in the hillside woods across the valley.




The bridleway starts to climb, up onto the windy hills. A Red Kite seen soaring above the valley, against the grey cloud.


Looking back down towards Hilton.


The bridleway joins Ice Drove, another ancient cattle road. Though this one is a path of grass and mud, rather than a chalk track.




December fields.


December gateways.

From Ice Drove, onto the lane that runs along the top of Bulbarrow Hill. The wind starting to get up, sometimes laden with stinging rain. But the clouds were travelling fast, and the rain never lasted long. Just enough rain to make the lanes shine.


The ramparts and ditches of Rawlsbury Camp Iron Age hillfort ahead.


Views across the valley to the Dorsetshire Gap, one of those significant places where five ancient paths meet.


Into the hillfort.




Around the ramparts.


Rather windy, as it always is on the ramparts of an Iron Age Hillfort. And the ditches at Rawlsbury are either too silted up or too overgrown to hide in. But I managed to find a little corner with a windbreak of gorse bushes, and sat on the very wet grass to drink coffee, and consult the map. (The brand new map. I finally succumbed, and replaced a twenty year-old map with an up-to-date one showing the Hardy Way).



I had originally planned to take the bridleway down the valley to Rawlsbury Farm, before cutting back across the fields to Hilton. But seeing how much water there was in the valley bottom, changed my plans and headed back along the lanes instead.


Along Cuckoo Lane, which might be very pleasant in May. In December, there were no cuckoos, and the rain blew on the wind. Luckily there were some nice thick thorn hedges sheltering the lane.




The road not taken, and, above it, the rooks playing in the wind. The bridleway down to Rawlsbury Farm.




The crossroads down to Ansty, and a convenient bench for a sit-down.


Rush hour on the lane to Ansty.

Then onto the wooded lane down to Hilton, with the church tower in sight.