“Where are all the cavemen, Granddad?”
A young boy kicks the tiled floor with his shoe as he holds his granddad’s hand.
“Years ago, Joshua, lots of people lived in these caves.”
Joshua points behind us. “It’s not a proper cave, is it? It’s got a front door and windows.”
I can’t help but smile as I and a few other inquisitive visitors explore Fletcher’s Cottage and marvel at the white-washed kitchen walls, the range set into an alcove, a table and chairs beside the window, and a bathtub hanging against the rock wall. As cave dwellings go, this is five-star luxury.
A volunteer crouches down to Joshua’s height and taps the side of her nose. “If you want to see a proper cave,” she whispers, “find Nanny’s Rock. A real cave-woman lived there.”
Joshua’s eyes widen. “Can we look for Nanny’s Rock, Granddad?”
“Follow the purple trail,” she says to Granddad. “It’s about half an hour.”
I make a mental note to follow the trail, too. Nanny’s Rock sounds intriguing.
They don’t feel like caves, but the Holy Austin Rock Houses, here at Kinver Edge, on the Staffordshire-Worcestershire border are, technically, caves. But they’ve filled the wide openings with windows and doors, creating comfortable living accommodation.
“Ironically, the people who lived here,” explains the volunteer, walking into the bedroom behind me, “were considered posh. Being halfway up the hillside, the air is fresher than the two-up, two-down terraced cottages down in town.”
Through the single-glazed window, overlooking a large vegetable garden, I can just make out the rooftops of Kinver below.
“The earliest record of people living in these caves dates back to 1777,” she continues. “Joseph Heely was out walking the Edge when he got caught in a storm. He was offered shelter by ‘a clean and decent family’ in one of these cave dwellings. They told him how these rock houses were the perfect homes. They were warm in winter and cool in the summer.”
The rock is soft red sandstone, which made it easier to hew and carve out the caves. Whenever a family got a little bigger, they simply carved out another room!
Around the corner is Martindale Cottage, which has been restored to show life in the 1930s. There’s a Belfast sink under the window, a clothes airer beside it, and a table and chairs in the middle with some bowls and baking ingredients, ready to make cakes.
Residents here were regular cake-makers at the beginning of the twentieth century because visitors travelled from far and wide to see these strange cave-living families.
The 1861 census records eleven families living here on Kinver Edge in the three different levels of caves. It’s like a block of flats, with Fletcher’s Cottage and Martindale Cottage on the lower floor, a cafe on the top floor, and another row of caves in the middle. The middle-row caves remain untouched.
I head off in search of Nanny’s Rock. I soon pick up the purple waymarked trail from behind the cafe, and climb through a mixture of birch, oak, and sweet chestnut trees.
Suddenly, I stumble into a wide open field, dominated by a Grade II-listed granite obelisk. This is Kinver’s War Memorial, which also has a drinking fountain incorporated into it. Forty-four local men lost their lives during the First World War, out of the town’s population of about four thousand. Another nineteen names were added after the Second World War.
My path climbs steadily, taking a gate into a wooded enclosure. Suddenly, a couple of English Longhorn cows cross the path ahead of me!
The National Trust uses this ancient breed to manage this heathland. They roam the site freely, trampling bracken and eating brambles, to maintain this important habitat.
Climbing higher, I spy a plaque set into a boulder with a wonderful view framed by trees. This commemorates the initial 198 acres of Kinver Edge given to the National Trust in 1917, in memory of Thomas Grosvenor Lee.
Thomas grew up in Kinver and loved exploring the footpaths here. He became a solicitor in Birmingham, but always made time to come back and enjoy Kinver’s view across to Dudley and the Black Country.
My path climbs between a single earth embankment, which is all that’s left of an Iron Age Hill Fort. Its location suggests that not only was it a defensive location, thanks to its far-reaching views, but it may also have been an important trading post.
The purple trail brings me to the northern tip of this sandstone ridge, and the views are impressive, stretching across vast swathes of the West Midlands, from Wolverhampton, across Birmingham, and right round to Bromsgrove, and Redditch.
There’s still a steady climb as I follow the path along the top of Kinver Edge, until I reach the trig-point marking the 164-metre, 538-feet summit. In one direction, I spy the Clent Hills, south of Birmingham, but through the trees on my right, I can make out the summit of Shropshire’s Titterstone Clee Hill. As the buzzard flies, that’s a distance of twenty-one miles between the two!
My path, now part of the Staffordshire Way footpath, drops steeply down Kinver Edge’s western flank, passing through a mixture of woodland and open heathland. This is the perfect habitat for adders, slow worms, and grass snakes, as well as tree creepers and great spotted woodpeckers. High above me, a buzzard mews as its soars on a thermal.
A vast sandstone cliff face appears on my right, and it looks like there are holes in it. Large holes. Could this be Nanny’s Rock?
There’s a path through the green bracken that leads up to an opening. Gosh, these caves are huge!
There’s a steep step, so I grab the gritty, red sandstone sides and haul myself in. Amazingly, this first cave is more than tall enough for me to stand up in. Being over six-feet tall, I’m used to crouching down in old buildings, but Nanny’s Rock feels big and spacious.
Evidence of how easy it is to carve the soft red sandstone is visible everywhere, as most of the walls have graffiti etched into every surface.
One room leads through into another, each with a large opening and a smaller window. Some of these rooms even have little alcoves, blackened at the bottom, perhaps by fires that once burned here.
While the openings and windows of Nanny’s Rock were never filled like the Holy Austin Rock Houses, it’s easy to see how these caves could provide shelter from the worst of the weather.
In the early seventeenth century, these caves were the home of Margaret of the Foxearth. Some say she was a herbalist, others called her a potion maker or a white witch. But burial records at Kinver’s St Peter’s Church prove she existed. The volunteer was right. Margaret was a true cave-woman.
Whether Margaret is the woman locals called Nanny isn’t clear, but I can easily imagine how a mysterious woman who mixed herbs to create potions might become known as Nanny. Especially if her potions made people feel better, like all good Nannas do.
“I can see a cave, Granddad!”
Through one of the cave’s smaller window holes, I spot Joshua approaching. I think it’s time for me to leave. I’m sure he’d enjoy exploring these caves more if he had them to himself.
I slip out without being seen.
It’s time for me to head back home to the man cave I call my office. But my man cave is nowhere near as exciting as Kinver’s caves, though.
Further Information
Kinver Edge & the Rock Houses | Staffs
Explore Kinver Edge and the Rock Houses in Staffordshire, a high sandstone ridge and hillfort overlooking dramatic red…www.nationaltrust.org.uk