Creech Barrow Hill
In March 2011, I climbed Creech Barrow Hill with my friend, Richard - when I first met Richard, he had a curly jet black beard - he had just started teaching - during our long friendship, we have shared many adventures and sorrows -
We parked the car at a viewpoint overlooking Steeple, where there's a beautiful ancient church, lost in a silent valley - we were on the high chalk ridge, running from Worbarrow Bay to Corfe Castle - beyond a further ridge, parallel to our own, lay the sea - above us was a pale blue sky, filmed with cloud -
We walked along the path, high above pasture and dark woods - past Creech Arch, an 18th Century folly, built to improve the view from Creech Grange - we had known John Bond, a descendant of the man who had ordered the construction of the arch -
John was very tall, with a soft, precise, way of speaking - he had worked as theatre carpenter, and, with his wife and friends, had produced and performed in a number of plays celebrating rural life in the Purbecks - Sophie had once accompanied their company to the Scunthorpe Folk Festival - I had gone along, too, and exulted in my back stage pass which proclaimed me crew -
After half a mile or so, the path sloped down into a gap in the ridge - we could see the hill rising up, covered with bracken and gorse - we climbed up, through waist and chest high ferns, some vivid green, others, brown and dying -
It was surprisingly tough going - we soon separated as we scrambled upwards - I got to the summit first - there was a stone bench there, where we sat, looking out over the view before us - we could see fields, woods and settlements, hazy and remote, under the sky -
I thought the hill vaguely artificial in shape, and I imagined being on its summit at night, seeing flying saucers circle around it - intense white light would sweep over the grass -
The Harp Stone is due south of the hill - Julian Cope's fascinating Modern Antiquarian posts a number of notes hinting of mystery relating to this place -
I think I shall return, and look more closely -
In March 2011, I climbed Creech Barrow Hill with my friend, Richard - when I first met Richard, he had a curly jet black beard - he had just started teaching - during our long friendship, we have shared many adventures and sorrows -
We parked the car at a viewpoint overlooking Steeple, where there's a beautiful ancient church, lost in a silent valley - we were on the high chalk ridge, running from Worbarrow Bay to Corfe Castle - beyond a further ridge, parallel to our own, lay the sea - above us was a pale blue sky, filmed with cloud -
We walked along the path, high above pasture and dark woods - past Creech Arch, an 18th Century folly, built to improve the view from Creech Grange - we had known John Bond, a descendant of the man who had ordered the construction of the arch -
John was very tall, with a soft, precise, way of speaking - he had worked as theatre carpenter, and, with his wife and friends, had produced and performed in a number of plays celebrating rural life in the Purbecks - Sophie had once accompanied their company to the Scunthorpe Folk Festival - I had gone along, too, and exulted in my back stage pass which proclaimed me crew -
After half a mile or so, the path sloped down into a gap in the ridge - we could see the hill rising up, covered with bracken and gorse - we climbed up, through waist and chest high ferns, some vivid green, others, brown and dying -
It was surprisingly tough going - we soon separated as we scrambled upwards - I got to the summit first - there was a stone bench there, where we sat, looking out over the view before us - we could see fields, woods and settlements, hazy and remote, under the sky -
I thought the hill vaguely artificial in shape, and I imagined being on its summit at night, seeing flying saucers circle around it - intense white light would sweep over the grass -
The Harp Stone is due south of the hill - Julian Cope's fascinating Modern Antiquarian posts a number of notes hinting of mystery relating to this place -
I think I shall return, and look more closely -
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