The Drummer Boy Stone

I've just bought a second-hand book called Secret Forest, by Ray Wright. The original cost £1.95 back in 1980; I happily paid £4.41 for mine.  Here's a little of Ray Wright's introduction...

The aim of this book is to try to record and unravel the mystery surrounding the ancient stones in the Royal Forest of Dean. The many outcrops of rock, standing stones and scattered boulders cry out for explanations.

Exploring the Forest over the last 6 years or so I've mostly learned about its recent history – its quarries, mines and railways. There have, however, been occasional echoes of a more distant past, in places such as King Arthur's Cave and the old scowles, and I'm anxious to find out more.

The first ancient stone that I've chosen is one that I must have driven past dozens of times, without knowing of its existence. It isn't marked on OS maps and there is no signboard inviting closer inspection, but there it lies beside the Blackpool Bridge - Upper Soudley road.

It's known as The Drummer Boy Stone, or The Drummer Boy's Gravestone, and has two shallow depressions that appear to be man-made. It probably has nothing to do with drummer boys, dead or alive, though its purpose is unknown. Among the more colourful theories are ones suggesting it once held sacrificial blood or fat for lamps. But why anyone should wish to offer sacrifices or light lamps in the middle of nowhere is a mystery.

A possible clue to its use is that one of the depressions is lined with iron, so perhaps it was once used by an ancient blacksmith. The problem with that theory, though, is that there is no other evidence of iron-working in the area.  Thus the mystery lives on!

To give some idea of its size, here's Yours Truly on the bridge over the tiny stream that runs close to the ancient stone, which is about 5ft long and 3ft wide.

Lest you think that I only find beauty in ancient stones and decaying railway tracks, here are a couple of views from the hillside above the stream.  The bluebells seem not as vivid as they were last year, though perhaps they still have some growing to do. The woodland, however, is as enchanting as ever.

Strip and At It (and other reprehensible acts)

What a splendid name for a coal mine! Strip and At It conjures up visions of hunky miners, stripped to the waist and singing merrily as they enthusiastically hack away at coal seams.  I'm fully aware, though, that the truth was a lot less romantic. Work in those old mines, for men and boys, was dark, dirty and downright dangerous.

The tunnel marked on this old map has featured before in my blog, as I often pass the Trafalgar end on one of my favourite forest walks – or rather, it was one of my favourites before the path to the east of Trafalgar was reduced to a mud bath during recent forestry operations. Such are the joys of living in an actively managed forest. Thankfully, I know that Nature will eventually triumph over machinery and I shall return.

This is the Trafalgar portal, photographed in 2014. I had never seen the other end but access looked easy enough on the modern OS 1:25000 map, so last Monday, as part of a longer walk, I set out to find it. Again, I've marked the tunnel in red.

Strip and At It, together with Trafalgar Colliery, closed in 1925 and little evidence of its existence can be seen today. According to the local history society, these are possibly the remains of the engine house.

In common with almost all green spaces in the Forest, there's plenty of evidence that the feral boar have been here. These days it sometimes feels as if we live in a pig sty.

It didn't take long to find a hillside cutting that led to the tunnel. From the protective perimeter fence it was just possible to glimpse the tunnel portal, though it doesn't show in this photo.

It is, of course, highly reprehensible to attempt climbing over these protective fences, which have been thoughtfully installed for our protection. This is a respectable blog, written by a responsible adult...

... so I will leave to your imagination the methods I employed to obtain this photo!

Finally, it occurs to me that, were it not for the boar, Strip and At It would be an appropriate place in which to use ones Fern Ticket.  You don't know what a Fern Ticket it?  Dear me. I've spent out on quite a few of those in the past – mostly on and around Dartmoor, for reasons that elude me – though these days I confess to preferring my home comforts.