Ever since reading the Hidden Wiltshire’s blog “Searching for Kitt’s Grave (In Memory of Kay Chalk 1929-2019)” written by Paul Timlett. I have been intrigued by the idea of finding the last resting place of Kitt. Vernditch Chase, where the grave is said to be located, is always lovely, so we don’t need too much of an excuse to return. Having not found Kitt’s grave on two previous occasions (three if you count Paul’s attempt), I was determined that the next time was going to be different; having recently invested in the OS mapping app I felt certain that there would be no stopping us finding it now because the gps would guide us to the exact location. Indeed, on downloading the app, I immediately set about devising a route. I concluded that if the grave wasn’t at the ordinary OS map location, then it was going to be where it was marked on the standard map. The latter appeared to be just a short walk off a bridleway, so barring a few brambles, I reasoned it would be a piece of cake to find this time.
So, with the recent changeable weather and the constant threat of rain, in a spur of the moment decision on one afternoon when the elements seemed more promising we downloaded the devised gps route to finding Kitt’s grave and headed off to Vernditch Chase. We were also hoping that there might be some interesting fungi to see along the way. Later I would wonder if we had been too hasty in our decision.
Therefore, with all this in mind, we headed off. Parking at the Gardiner Wood entrance to Vernditch Chase and heading west we took the path on the left and started along the Roman road that skirts the wood perimeter and was we thought, the most direct route to Kitt’s grave. I don’t know whether it was the time of day, the thoughts of finding a grave or the fact that on the last occasion we visited I had briefly seen a large unidentified black animal amongst the trees, but this time I almost immediately had a certain sense of foreboding or perhaps it was intruding? There was a different and distinct feeling to the wood that gave me a sense of unease. As we walked there were omens. A wren followed us clacking his warning for longer than I have known one to do so before. The charm of having the little bird follow us abating to a different sensation. There were clicking sounds and thumps, and I regretted reading that nearby Bowerchalke was the most haunted village in Wiltshire. One report tells of walkers being followed by a ghost that rattles coins. Could that be the clicking noise? No not really as it wasn’t the sound coins make plus, I felt we were too far off his patch for the noises to be him. The truth is neither the thumps nor the clicking seemed to have an origin that I could recognise. So as we walked these sounds played on my mind and the impulse to keep turning around was constant and of course when I did there was nothing to be seen. The straight path was empty, and the dappled sunlight gave it a beautiful glow that should have been enough to allay my fears, but it didn’t. Everything was familiar and different. For instance, the small post located by the side of the path that seems to have no reason at all for being there still had a stone placed on top of it. However, this time there was a new blue grey one rather than the old tan brown we had seen many times before. Nothing was quite as usual.
Continuing along the path, we emerged into a more open area. As we did my unease started to subside, and we tripped more readily along the Roman road searching for fungi and admiring the views into Hampshire and Dorset. The odd late butterfly floated about in the autumn sunshine and all seemed well. Before too long we had reached the path that would take us to the bridleway, and then at last, lead us to Kitt’s grave. I gave no real thought to the route as the bridleway would be easy to find because it crossed the path we were on, and well, bridleways are wide and easy to spot plus we also had the trusted GPS.
Once away from the open area my disquiet started to increase and the ill omens began again. Along the route there were grotesque misshapen fungi and we found an animal bone stripped of flesh just lying by the side of the path. I again thought of the big black beast. My senses went into high alert, and I commenced keeping a constant look out, but all was quiet. However, this stillness was eerie, and the silence could have been for a different reason. The folklore says there is no bird song around Kitt’s grave, and now as we listened out aside from the caw of a distant corvette there was indeed no other sounds in this area. There was no doubt that we were close and the gps was telling us we were nearing the bridleway that would lead us to the exact spot. But it didn’t. As we walked, we saw the route from the left however it didn’t continue right into the woods and on to Kitt’s grave, it just stopped. We spent a while trying to locate the path, but we were thwarted by brambles and overgrowth. Then we met other portents such as an old car rusting away in the bushes. Had we stumbled upon a vehicle that had been left by a previous searcher of Kitt’s grave who had never returned? At this point we abandoned the idea of finding the bridleway and returned to the main path to continue back towards Gardiner Wood and our own car, but yet I still felt driven to carry on with our quest to discover the grave. Some strange force was drawing me in, calling me to get closer. However, as we walked, there were no obvious routes into the location. The brambles and bushes were so thick that I doubt even deer would make it through. After one last ditch and fruitless effort to locate a way to the grave, this time from the other side, but still being met with thick bushes and brambles we gave up. It truly seemed as though the wood or something else was protecting the location of the grave. Of course I was reminded of a Grimm’s fairy tale where a soul, cursed by a witch, lies slumbering surrounded by an impenetrable barrier of trees and thorns. There is a happy ending to that story, but in this case if this is indeed the location of the grave, then I hope these barriers serve to allow Kitt eternal rest.
Quest over we continued on our walk thinking it would not be long before we would be back at the car. However, the woods were lovely in the late afternoon sun. We found ourselves stopping on many occasions to admire the trees or investigate the legion of different varieties of fungi of all species, forms and colours.
Once again the woods were enchanting us this time delaying further our return home. Suddenly, I was reminded of the rotting wreck of the car in the nearby bushes and that we had dallied far too long looking for Kitt’s grave and marvelling at the mushrooms in their fairy rings. Although still reasonably early, the woods were beginning to turn dark, and the squirrels and deer were all making moves as if preparing to hunker down ready for the night creatures to control their realm. The black beast and the earlier clicking noises and thuds came back to the forefront of my mind, and I now felt an urgency to leave.
So we quickened our pace and headed with more purpose towards the parked car, stopping only briefly to admire the still impressive Grim’s Ditch as we crossed it before leaving the wood. Feeling a little safer at the Gardiner Wood Gate I turned back briefly just in case there was something there in the shadows, but all seemed as normal. There were no black beasts watching us with penetrating eyes whilst licking their lips, no fairies dancing around the mushroom rings in order to enchant the unwary, no cackling hags in black tossing toadstools in a pot and stretching their boney fingers towards us and finally, there was no lone ghostly figure of Kitt watching us leave. It was just a view of the woods settling down for the evening.
Still feeling a little spooked out we were very grateful to find the car parked as we had left it. There remained just one more test to see if we could really break the bewitchment we felt under. Would the car start? To our relief it did!
