Warning: This is an epic blog!
I wasn’t planning on visiting Savernake Forest for a bit, but it’s funny how things work out. A producer from the Radio 4 programme, Open Country, got in touch with me to say they were going to record an episode about Savernake and did I know anything about the ghost stories up there? ‘Well, yes I do,’ I replied, and so I was invited to join them for a walk along the Grand Avenue to tell them more. I took my intrepid ghost hunting partners Buddy and Bingo along with me.
Before my visit, which was earlier this week, I put my research hat on and delved into the history and mystery of this ancient, primeval forest. I was expecting to find a few stories, given its age and rich history as a Royal hunting forest, which before World War Two was one of the largest areas of virgin forest land in England. Now, while much diminished, it is still seven square miles in size and the last privately-owned forest in the country.
In reality, I found loads of tales associated with this magical place; ghost stories, strange experiences, tales of dark energies and fairy-type creatures flitting through the dappled shade of the trees at dusk. I’m not surprised really. Personally, I find Savernake Forest quite eerie. There is definitely something that makes me feel slightly off kilter there at times, and as a general rule I love nothing more that being in the woods. It sometimes feels heavy, like it is filled with ghosts. I think I’ve also read too many stories of Devil worship, covens and people being murdered there, buried there, blown up there and deciding, very sadly, to take their own lives’ there.
Apart from my ‘feelings’ it’s a beautiful place and there is much to explore. I went there back in October 2024 to visit some of the charmingly named, ancient oak trees. I didn’t cover the paranormal stories that time but you can read about that ‘testing’ family outing here, if you haven’t already.
How Old?
This ancient royal forest was mentioned in King Athelstan’s Charter of Safernoc in 934AD, so it’s been around for many, many centuries. After 1066, custodianship of Savernake passed to Richard Esturmy, a knight who fought at Hastings, and for a thousand years the estate and forest have been passed down an unbroken line of hereditary forest wardens. Today it is managed by the Forestry Commission and is a working forest. There is also mainly unrestricted access for the public and plenty of paths to ride, walk or cycle around. Since I was heading up there this week, I figured I might as well take the dogs and make a trip (and blog) of it.
This blog will already take you several hours to read so I have left out the tales of the witch’s house at Goblin’s Hold, on the edge of the forest. It’s intriguing just because of the name alone but I’ll leave that story for another day as I need to find out exactly where this ‘supposed witch’ lived first, and so far, no banana! We’ve enough to cover today anyway, so let’s make a start on Grand Avenue, the main thoroughfare which dissects the forest north to south. In the middle of this road (it’s more of a made track) is a central point, known as Eight Walks, with several other tracks running from it. Apparently, it is said there was once a gibbet standing at these crossroads.
Boneshaking up the Grand Avenue
I took a punt on being able to take my little car, Amanda the Fiat Panda, along the road to avoid an epic walk and we only ever reached a maximum speed of 15mph to avoid my bones, and hers, being shaken to pieces. To be honest, even though it was a track, it was in better condition than most of the public roads round where I live. The local potholes, of which there are many, are fast turning into tyre-shattering craters which you need to slalom around to avoid near-death.
The Old Carp Pond
Amanda made it up to Eight Walks and me, Buddy and Bingo decided we’d go off in search of The Old Carp Pond. The weather has been dismal here for many weeks – I think we were on the 37th day of rain in the southwest on Tuesday. Everything was soggy and the path, although a proper track, was very muddy.
After negotiating the quagmire, I found Thornhill Pool. It’s a depressing sight. It looks like it was dredged at some point and now it is just a big clay mess with a cloudy, orange pool of water in the bottom. Hopefully this is just the start of some sort of rejuvenation project to bring the pool back to life. Once spring springs, things will grow and it will look much better. Maybe!
Perhaps it will look more like it would have been back in medieval times when, according to Kathleen Wiltshire, it was known as The Old Carp Pond. She was told it belonged to Marlborough Priory. I cannot find any other associations of Savernake Forest with medieval monks and there was no monastery, abbey or priory in the forest itself, but there were Carmelite Friars at Marlborough Whitefriars which is the nearest town.
I thought I would check old maps for evidence of a pond, and I can’t find it on this one below from 1805-1845, (as you can see above) but it’s not to say it wasn’t there – it is tiny and it might not have been drawn on. Possibly it wasn’t anything to do with monks but perhaps it was something to do with Roman activity in the area – the Roman road and Wansdyke are not far away. Anyway, whatever the age of the pool, we know it was there in 1975 as that’s when it all happened. You can decide for yourself whether you think the phantom could have been a monk.
Back in 1975, Andrew Nash of Marlborough and his friend Melton Curits headed to the carp pond one hot August afternoon.
“We were coming home about 6pm when it was getting to dusk. We came out of the carp pond onto the road at the top of the hill. On another hill in front of us we saw a figure dressed in a white cloak, like a monk, with legs cut off at the knee, waving slowly at us. We stopped and stared, without talking, and then we ran about two miles without saying a word to each other until we got home. The figure seemed to be without legs and to be floating in the air at the height it would have been if it had had legs. I couldn’t see its face.”
Heading away from the pool and then southwest along New Road Bottom you can walk to the oldest, grandest (in a gnarly, old sort of way), and most famous of all the ancient trees in the forest, Big Bellied Oak.
It must have been on this track where Dr John Maurice of Marlborough was walking, heading off to visit a party of scouts camping near Thorn Hill Pond. He was not far from the Big Bellied Oak when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around he saw a figure in a black monk’s habit who vanished as soon as the doctor saw him.
Could it be Boudicea’s Grave?
Before you get to Big Bellied Oak though, it’s worth looking out for a tumuli known as Boudicea’s Grave. Could it be, I thought when I spotted it on my map, that this could possibly be the grave of that most fierce warrior Iceni queen, Boudicea?
There are, it seems, many contenders for the grave of Boudicea including one in Epping Forest in Essex, Garboldisham in Norfolk and Parliament Hill Fields in London. It looks unlikely this is the actual grave, given it is likely a Bronze-age barrow, (2000-1500BC) making it 1500 years older that Boudicea. Back in the 18th and 19th centuries, antiquarian storytellers loved to link Neolithic earthworks to known historical figures and mystical heros, kings, giants, druids or famous warriors to add a bit of zing to the location. The truth is, no one knows where Boudicea is buried. That secret is lost to the depths of time, never to be found out. Nevermind! It’s still worth a mention – I can get a bit blasé about ‘just another tumuli’ in Wiltshire because they are dotted all over the place – but they are really awesome.
I did pass by Spiral Oak on this path. Since it is on my bucket list to visit every single named oak tree in Savernake (which is an odd thing to put on there, granted), I nipped off the path and took the path to this impressive and appropriately named old beauty.
The Big Bellied Oak
On the road to Marlborough through Savernake sits the 1000-year old big bellied oak, thought to have taken root around the time of William the Conqueror. As part of Queen Elizabeth II’s Golden Jubilee celebrations it was named one of Britain’s 50 Great British Trees. It’s impressive girth of 11.18 metres is now held together with large metal belts.
I decided, on this dank February afternoon, as the rain began to pelt down, I still had to mission over to this tree to get some photos. I must have looked like a crazy lady, running along the road in the rain, soaked through with my beanie hat and wellies on, covered in mud and grime. A lady pulled up next to me in her car and wound down her window.
She looked very concerned as she asked me if I was okay and if something had happened. ‘Oh no,’ I chirped in a very eccentric English way, ‘I’m just going down to get photos of the tree and there’s nowhere to park so I had to come down the road.’ She seemed relieved I was okay, but I got the impression she thought I was ‘a bit weird.’ And she’d be right!
I made it down to the tree without anyone else deciding I might need help and took some quick photos before taking a run back up the main road to the car, trying not to catch the eyes of any passing motorists!
Be warned, should you find yourself up in the forest at midnight and you run around The Big Bellied Oak seven times, the Devil himself will appear. Apart from the Devil, two monks have been seen floating around the area; one is a grey apparition and another appears in black.
The grey monk was seen by Miss Muriel Cobern, sitting quietly under the tree. Apparently, others have pulled over in their cars after spotting a similar grey figure there too.
The Galloping Headless Lady
We headed back to Eight Walks to meet the Radio Four team and the dogs took a much-needed break in the back of the car. We decided to record our chat walking along the Grand Avenue, a beech lined road, three miles long.
On this road, you might encounter the most famous ghost of Savernake, a headless lady riding a white mare. The story goes, she was out riding many moons ago with a royal hunting party in the forest when her horse bolted. It ran into the thick undergrowth and she was decapitated by the branch of a tree.
It seems her ghost is experienced as more of an audio effect, but Peter Underwood, the famous ghost hunter, was told she was seen in phantom form by a picnic party in 1969. He also received a letter in 1988 from a family in Reading. They were enjoying the peace of the forest one summer afternoon and were alarmed to hear the sound of horse’s hooves approaching them at speed. Three of the party then sensed, rather than saw, the shadowy form of a woman on horseback race past. The fourth member of the party only heard the sound of hooves approaching and then heading off into the distance.
Other reports tell of hearing the sound of galloping hooves before a gust of wind passes by and the hooves disappear into the distance.
A group of walkers in fairly recent times (2002) were heading along the Grand Avenue one day. They all heard the sound of galloping hooves, the sound of a horse approaching.
‘The thunderous sound engulfed us then faded away into the distance.’ On this occasion nothing was seen.
There is a monument near Grand Avenue, surrounded by iron railings. There is no memorial plaque so I wasn’t sure what it is for, but I read that it may be in memory of someone who died in a riding accident in the forest. Is this connected to the ghost of the headless lady or could this be where the story came from?
Brian Wheeler kindly got in touch with me. He had another take on what the memorial is for:
I have lived in and around Savernake. The story I heard was that before the Grand Avenue was straightened a man on his way back to Marlborough, from a drunken diner at Tottenham House, was thrown from his coach and died, so they built the little monument.
The Crisis Ghost of Hatt Gate
After finishing my interview, I decided I would drive down to the southwest corner of the forest through the rain to try and find this next location. There used to be various entry points to the forest through gates, some with gate houses, some just wooden barriers. They’ve all gone now but I wanted to see if I could get an idea of where the original Hatt Gate was.
Or was Hatt Gate right next to this lovely old cottage, which used to be two estate workers cottages, now one residence? I can find nothing about them once being gate houses.
Hatt Gate is the location for sightings of a crisis ghost. Crisis ghosts are apparitions who appear to someone, either at the time of a life-changing event or before death. Normally the apparition is known to the person but not always. The ghost of Hatt Gate appears at times when national happenings concerning the nation are about to happen.
During a time of great rumour and speculation, King Edward VIII finally announced his abdication from the British throne. As news spread through Savernake a local man was said to have said quietly, ‘Ah, I knew we’d hear something of this sort after hearing that the “antlered man” had been seen at Hatt Gate.’
When pressed the man admitted, a tall man with deer’s antlers springing from his head, is said to appear whenever there was big news for England.
Four in hand, Savernake
It is on this same road that you might experience our next Savernake Forest apparition; that of a spectral coach and horses. They are said to drive from Savernake Forest, through Hatt Gate, down the pathway to Brimslade Farm House. A maitresse en titre to the Marquesses of Ailsebury once lived at this farm. The Ailesbury arms are depicted in plaster over the chimneypiece in the great bed chamber. Maybe it is the marquesses’ coach that makes its way there in such haste? But why?
The Old Keeper of Postman’s Gate
I was considering going up to the northern end of the forest to try and find another lot of rubbly remains; all that is left of Postman’s Gate. It’s meant to be on the main Marlborough Road at the start of Postern Hill. I didn’t fancy another trek along the main road in the rain so let me just tell you the story.
Told by a lady at the Melksham Forest Wives Guild in November 1974 to Kathleen Wiltshire is the story of her uncle who lived with his family at Keeper’s Cottage, deep in the heart of Savernake Forest. He had come across the ghost of Postman’s Gate three times.
On the first occasion the man was joined as he walked along a track by a figure. At first, he thought it was a real person before he realised, it was actually a ghost.
The second time, while walking in the same section of forest, the ghost joined the man before walking off to stand behind a gate, his arms rested upon the top of the gate. The ghost watched the man leave. The man went home and told his family what he had seen and they all laughed.
On the third occasion the man was accompanied by his sister. When she saw the ghost, she apparently was so frightened she fainted.
Sometime later the uncle was enjoying a pint in the Savernake Arms when a young man rushed in through the door. He declared he had just seen the old gate keeper by Postman’s Gate. The men looked at each other as they knew the old gate keeper was dead. A friend of the uncle turned to him and said, ‘That must be the ghost you keep seeing near there.’
The Black Dog of The Forest Hotel
My last stop for the day was an accidental one. I needed to check my map and pulled over next to a building that appeared to be for sale, that of The Forest Hotel. The hotel was built by the marquis of Ailesbury around 1864, although it seems to be a private residence right now. Although it wasn’t on my list of places to visit that day, I recalled it was also rumoured to be haunted. I jumped out and took some quick snaps – the rain was falling heavily and me and the dogs were ready to head home.
It was later in the day when I looked up the ghosts of The Forest Hotel and found an interesting blog by local writer Keith Wills over on Haunted Wiltshire. I’m glad I have been able to include it on this blog. Many encounters have been reported at the hotel over the years. One of the most common is that of a black dog, not like the ones of folklore with red saucer-like eyes, snarling and growling with a chain hanging from its neck. No, this large black dog sounds more domesticated and is seen around the grounds of the hotel and occasionally in the kitchen and bar.
Apparently, there was a visitor to the hotel who appeared to step over something on her way to reception. ‘What are you doing?’ asked her husband. ‘Stepping over the dog. Can’t you see it?’ Her husband looked surprised and the woman turned around to find the animal was nowhere to be seen.
Also spotted at the hotel is an elderly gent, dressed in Victorian clothing, who sits smoking his pipe in the lounge bar. A couple of residents once said they saw the ghostly Victorian upstairs. ‘Well, he just appeared from nowhere, then walked straight across our path directly through the locked door.’
Poltergeist-like activity was reported there during its time as a hotel. Beer gas pumps were turned off regularly and the staff were complaining. The manager decided to find out what was happening. The locked the cellar for the night, checking the gas was definitely still turned on. He kept the only key. In the morning the staff came in and checked the gas pipes. They were turned off! Lights switching on and off, doors opening by themselves and keys going missing were a regular occurrence as well as the sounds of footsteps in corridors. Whether there is still anything amiss there now, I couldn’t tell you. But I would sure love to know!
Forest Sprites and Woodland Spirits
We’re nearly at the end of our tour of the forest ghosts but I want to mention that there is potentially fairy activity up in the woods! If ever you are to come across the Fae, it is likely to be in a mysterious and ancient place like Savernake.
These shadowy figures are most likely to be seen flitting in and around the largest trees of the forest at dusk. Some are human-like, others more like animals. The most magnificent of these forest dwellers is the White Stag. He suddenly appears in front of people it is said, taking them by surprise. Just as quickly as he arrives, he disappears again, leaving those who see him wondering if they have indeed just seen such a creature.
I can totally see why there would be fairies in the forest – it is a magical place. And there are so many fairy doors in the bases of the ancient oaks. It would be easy for the Fae to move seamlessly from their crazy fairy world to ours.
Sinister Beings of Savernake
Before we finish our time in the forest, I wanted to leave you with a sinister account I stumbled across while searching for personal stories. It was written by an anonymous poster on Mumsnet (it’s amazing the topics they cover over there on that forum).
As I mentioned earlier, there is a dark energy within Savernake I feel. Not always though – today’s visit was pleasant and rejuvenating, despite the weather. Locals talk of eerie sounds coming from deep within the blackened forest, with suggestions of witches’ covens and other dark practices occurring there. Certainly, it sounds like there are sinister beings up there, if you are to believe the account of this pet-sitter.
I was pet sitting for my friend several years ago. She had moved into a sort of small holding right on the edge of a village in Savernake Forest, with a huge garden that backed onto trees. At the time she had a right menagerie – chickens, ducks, a couple of Shetlands, cats and four black retrievers, three fully grown and one a half-grown puppy. Originally my husband had been going to come with me as a little holiday but the dates clashed with a couple of his medical appointments so he stayed at home with our dog and I went to petsit alone.
It was about halfway through my stay, a couple of nights to go. Late evening, already dark when I heard a massive commotion from the chicken shed, banging and thumping. I assumed a fox or something had got in so went out to check. As I was halfway across the garden the noise stopped instantly as if it had been shut off; by the time I got to the shed all was calm and the chickens were all settled, mostly asleep. No sign of any intruder or disturbance at all, nothing to explain the noise or any indication that the chickens had made a noise. Bit freaky but I didn’t (and still don’t) know much about The Way of Chicken so I locked up again and left them to it.
As I went back in the house a small black shape ran past me out of the back door and I realised the puppy must have got out. It streaked across the garden and off towards the woods. Cue much cursing, then calling her name in vain. More cursing when she didn’t come back. I grabbed a torch and put one of the other dogs on the lead, partly for protection, partly because I thought the pup was more likely to come back if I had one of her canine companions with me and partly because I didn’t fancy my chances of finding my way back to the house on my own even though there were a couple of vague paths that I’d followed when walking the dogs throughout the week.
Off we trudged into the wood along one of these paths, me calling pup’s name at intervals and trying not to imagine murderers and rapists behind every tree trunk. We got to a point where it felt like the trees were starting to thin out and I remember thinking that I didn’t remember a clearing on this path and we must have gone wrong somewhere when the dog with me slowed right down and started to resist going forward. I tried to jolly her along – while my stomach suddenly dropped like a stone – and she started growling, a really low serious rumbling growl. By this time I was practically shitting myself. I tried shining the torch ahead but the beam just sort of bounced back off the darkness if that makes sense? I got the sense of something – or somethings – moving but just sinuous deeper black shapes against the blackness and always on the periphery of vision. (The hairs on my arms are standing up again just remembering how completely and utterly terrified I was. I have honestly never known a feeling like it.)
At this point the dog sank right down, still growling, hackles up and refused to budge. I muttered something like “Jesus, you have got to be kidding me” and this ugly gurgling inhuman sort of voice hissed, right up close as if someone was right next to me “don’t say that name”. At the same time there was a horrible snickering sort of laugh. I cant express how utterly petrified I was. I can’t remember having any coherent thoughts apart from the word “evil”. That’s the only clear thing I can remember. Me and the dog were frozen to the spot with pure fear. Then a different voice, really commanding, said “GO. BACK.” That sounded more in my head but echoey, where the others had sounded out in the air IYSWIM?
Wherever it came from it did the trick. Me & the dog turned and belted back through the woods. She basically towed me, I just clung onto her lead stumbling to keep up and sobbing with fear. I lost the torch somewhere on that wild run but there was no way I was stopping to find it. How I didn’t run blindly into a tree I’ll never know, she guided me I guess. I can remember thinking desperately that I mustn’t let go of her lead or “they” would get me.
When we got back to the garden she suddenly stopped – I did fall over her this time, onto my hands and knees – turned around and started snarling, proper teeth bared, rabid-looking snarls, back at the trees and the darkness. I thought I heard the snickering again but the blood was pounding in my ears so hard I can’t be sure. I scrambled up and ran to the back door and she followed me but backing and snarling all the way as if holding something at bay. Oh, and the chicken shed was banging and thumping again. I got the back door open, me and her belted in, I slammed home every bolt behind us. The other dogs left behind were staring at the door and growling too with their hackles up and when I saw all three of them, puppy included, acting like that I started to cry properly because I honestly thought I was trapped in some horror film nightmare and was going to die. I don’t know – I still don’t know – what the black shape was that ran past me out of the house and triggered all of this because the puppy was right there in the kitchen.
Anyway I made sure every door and window was locked and bolted, I turned on every light in the house, I wandered round mumbling all sorts of weird half-religious half-spiritual shit to ward off evil spirits. Gradually the dogs settled down and stopped growling, and eventually stopped glancing at the door. Funnily enough I didn’t sleep for one second that night and I rang my DH and begged him to come over the last couple of days. I know I didn’t dream it because I was covered in scratches from running through the woods and had grazed hands from where I fell over the dog in the garden.
Nothing like that has happened before or since and I hope it never, ever does. It was the single most horrible, terrifying experience of my entire life.
If you haven’t yet had enough of Savernake tales, you can listen to BBC Radio Four’s Open Country. Or you can leave behind this strange place for today and get back to reality, but if you are in Wiltshire anytime, go and give Big Bellied Oak a hug from me.
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