It was the end of November 2008 and we found ourselves living at Caburn Cottages, Ranscombe Farm at the hospitality of Rosemary and her family.
On the 23rd we climbed Mt Caburn (‘cawburn’ or ‘cah-boorn’) The hill is made of four tiers – the bottom two are farmed by Rosemary’s family and the top two are open land owned by the local Lord. Rynne and the dogs came with me just past the farmland where she decided to wait. I couldn’t blame her as it was really very windy and a lesson in dealing with vertigo.
I had read about a giant called Gill associated with the Caburn and wanted to meet him. On the way up I picked up a deadfall branch and on reaching the penultimate tier I hit the ground with it, calling Gill out and letting him know I was coming. Then I had to jog up the last slopes (show no weakness!)
The view from the top is amazing and stretches for miles around. There are some Iron Age earthworks on the summit – grassed over dents and dips for the most part – so I had a little explore and took in the view before moving to the middle of the site, sitting and calling Gill.
Seems he couldn’t resist showing off! The image of a well built man in his mid-forties – a large face and frame, long nose, goatee, midlength hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in simple clothes of tunic and trousers, leather boots and jewellery.
He fired up from within the hill, roaring with his hands up andbegan shouting at the sky about some item or another and how precious it was, how powerful. Half way through his rant he just broke out laughing. ‘You don’t care about all that eh? Good for you!’ I asked if we were related (I have some weird blood ties) but apparently not ‘We’re not family you and I, but you’re still welcome!’
He had a big booming voice full of life and the love of it. I asked what he could offer. ‘Look at the land and feel! Any man could love this place – see how rich and green it is! The road and industry mean nothing to me – they’ll all be gone in the flick of an eye, sooner even! The only thing I can share with you is the love of the land. Walk around and look about you. Feel its permanence and solid strength. It’ll reach you in time, you’ll see.’
So I walked around the hilltop and looked again. From the level of the road everything looks grimy and polluted, tainted by man, and the hills seem to be fighting off progressive farming techniques. From the Caburn it looks the other way around – that the dross of industry is temporary and inconsequential.
‘Sorry we’re not kin boy, but remember what I’ve said. It’s a fine land this one!’
I thanked him and poured some warmth into the hill before heading back down. The way was steep and I could hear Gill calling from the top. ‘Better roll down that slope little a good little piggy eh!’ My totem is the boar and we both laughed. Gill is a funny guy full of life and I couldn’t help liking him.
I made it down without falling and picked up a bone on the way down (probably from some backpackers lunchbox) and two white stones. I will have to think on these and if I can’t use them I’ll return them to the field. Rynne was fine if a little cold. She had heard the booming voice but not what was said. We gathered up the dogs and headed for the cottage and a hot cup of tea.
http://explore.ordnancesurvey.co.uk/pois/show/4205
The excellent short-term lets where we stayed
Otho Vardmadr's Blog 
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