Standing in the genteel Victorian town of Great Malvern, you look up. You can’t miss them. An 8-mile-long “dragon’s back” of dark, jagged hills erupts from the flat Severn Plain.
This is the Malvern Hills range, a geological spine of some of the oldest rock in the country—a staggering 680 million years old.
A Walk of Two Halves: The Spine and The Spring
Most people who tackle this ridge do it as a linear “End-to-End” walk, a simple A-to-B conquest that requires taxis or a two-car shuffle.
But the route I’ve just finished is, in my opinion, far superior. It’s an 11-mile loop that tells a more complete story.
This isn’t just one walk; it’s a walk of two magnificent, distinct halves. First, you conquer the Spine: the high, windy, elemental ridge, a place of geology, conflict, and god’s-eye views.
Then, you descend for the return, making a pilgrimage to the Spring: the gentle, wooded lower slopes, the very source of the “Water Cure” and the network of holy wells that gave birth to the town below.
You get the conquest and the immersion. You walk through 3,000 years of history, from prehistoric hillforts to Victorian philanthropy, and this is how you do it.
Walk At A Glance
The Ascent: From Victorian Town to Pixie Paths
Setting Off from Great Malvern
Our walk begins right in the centre of Great Malvern, next to the main road at the Council House Car Park.
Be warned. There are nearer car parks at the foot of the Malverns but so many of them are for maximum 1 or 2 hours only. Never long enough for a walk of discovery up there.
From the car park, the route is an uphill push. We head up Church Street.
This is the main artery that takes us from the Victorian town up towards the ‘elemental’ part of the walk.
Optional Detour: The Priory and ‘the Worm’
If you have a bit of extra time before starting the climb, a short detour from the town centre reveals the town’s deeper origins.
Nearby is the magnificent Great Malvern Priory, with its treasure-trove of 15th-century misericords and beautiful medieval stained glass.
Just past the Priory is the 15th-century Priory Gatehouse, which now houses the Malvern Museum.
Look up as you pass under the arch; you can still see the “squint window” where a monk would have sat to check the credentials of visitors to the priory , a tangible link to a past long before the “Water Cure” ever existed.
As you cross Avenue Road from the town centre, you might also spot a curious corrugated iron tunnel by the railway bridge.
This is “the Worm,” a perfect relic of the town’s spa boom. It was built so wealthy 19th-century passengers could walk directly from their train to the Imperial Hotel (now a school) under a corrugated iron roof, without ever having to brave the elements.
Finally, as you stand in the town, look for the 109 Victorian gas lamps that still line many of Malvern’s streets.
These are the source of Malvern’s most famous literary legend. C.S. Lewis was a student at Malvern College , and regularly returned to visit his friend George Sayer, who taught there.
Sayer was also friends with J.R.R. Tolkien, and the two would often travel from Oxford to walk these very hills.
The story goes that Lewis, Tolkien, and Sayer were walking home from the Unicorn Inn (our starting point) on a snowy night when Lewis remarked how the sight of a gas lamp in the snow would make a wonderful opening for a story.
And so, the path to Narnia began, right here. The panoramic views from the ridge we’re about to climb are thought to have inspired not just Narnia, but aspects of Tolkien’s Middle Earth, too.
The ‘Happy Valley’ Climb
After crossing Bellvue Terrace we head up St Anns Road a little.
Now the walk begins in earnest. As St. Ann’s Road bears left, we continue straight up the path universally known as Happy Valley.
This isn’t just a random gully; it’s a historic avenue, deliberately planted with sycamores by the Victorians.
The charm of this path is its original function: this was the main 19th-century donkey ride track.
Just past the last house, you can still see a low wooden shed, one of the last remaining donkey stands where tourists would hire their ride.
Further up, to the left of the main path, is the “Donkey Spout.” This table-like structure served a dual purpose as a platform for mounting the donkeys and a drinking trough for the animals.
But the absolute killer detail, the story that brings this path to life, is about a donkey named “Old Moses.” Back in the day, a young Queen Victoria herself rode up this very track on “Old Moses.”
This royal seal of approval sparked a tourist frenzy. Dozens of other donkeys were immediately renamed “Moses” to meet the demand. The original “Old Moses,” sadly, was said to have been “ridden to death” by his newfound fame.
As for the name “Happy Valley,” I was curious. My research for an ancient or folkloric origin came up empty, leading only to places in the USA.
The truth seems to be that this is a 19th-century descriptive name, a piece of brilliant Victorian marketing. This path, busy with children, ladies, and the infirm taking donkey rides to the well, was a place of leisure and joy.
It’s a “happy” valley, named for its tourist function, which contrasts beautifully with the ancient, mythological names we’re about to find on the ridge.
Rather than heading straight up happy valley from the Donkey Stand, my route heads right after the last house, this way we gradually zig zag up and out of the trees as we head to the most northern peak of this ridge.
Walking the Dragon’s Back: The Main Malvern Spine
We emerge from the trees into the breeze, and the views instantly explode. We head across gullies to the first peak, End Hill.
We’re now on the main ridge, the stony spine of the Malverns. We’re now on the official “End-to-End” trail, and we’re tackling the main summits from north to south.
To keep track of the “peak bagging,” here are the main summits on our route.
|
Hill Name 66237_d767e3-af> |
Height (m / ft) 66237_8a3697-eb> |
Key Historical Fact or Folktale 66237_ab5bd7-7a> |
|---|---|---|
|
End Hill 66237_50627f-82> |
328 m / 1,076 ft 66237_76b289-88> |
Site of 17th-century enclosure banks built by Charles I. 66237_f687ce-63> |
|
North Hill 66237_e01364-96> |
398 m / 1,305 ft 66237_00c8f4-de> |
Home to the “Giant’s Grave” and the medieval “Pyx Path,” also known as the “Pixie Path”. 66237_fe8c36-13> |
|
Table Hill 66237_7162b1-89> |
375 m / 1,230 ft 66237_239c53-a5> |
A descriptive name for its flat top, made of Precambrian Igneous rock. 66237_f3a5dd-a2> |
|
Sugarloaf Hill 66237_2a5d00-44> |
369 m / 1,210 ft 66237_fd2db6-7d> |
Named for its conical resemblance to a “sugarloaf”. 66237_7fdc5c-59> |
|
Worcestershire Beacon 66237_7c1086-08> |
425 m / 1,394 ft 66237_d5f06e-b7> |
Highest point in the county; used as a signal beacon against the Spanish Armada. 66237_a8d8e2-c9> |
|
Summer Hill 66237_4f1e38-20> |
383 m / 1,256 ft 66237_4f8e27-55> |
Crossed by the ancient Shire Ditch. 66237_9628c0-a3> |
|
Perseverance Hill 66237_cd3b9d-91> |
328 m / 1,076 ft 66237_7b54c6-41> |
Summit features two Bronze Age round barrows. 66237_bf734f-fc> |
|
Jubilee Hill 66237_9f090c-2b> |
328 m / 1,076 ft 66237_897e5e-82> |
Named to commemorate Queen Victoria’s Jubilee in 1887. 66237_297d35-82> |
|
Pinnacle Hill 66237_a71814-da> |
358 m / 1,174 ft 66237_547014-94> |
Offers views to Hope End, childhood home of poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 66237_40717e-91> |
The Northern Bastion: End Hill and North Hill
Our first peak, End Hill, is the northernmost bastion of this Precambrian ridge.
As you climb, look for the subtle banks and ditches crossing the slopes. This isn’t prehistoric; it’s a “hidden history” from the 1630s.
King Charles I, in desperate need of cash and in constant dispute with Parliament, raised revenue by “disafforesting”—enclosing and selling off—one-third of Malvern Chase.
We’re walking through a landscape literally shaped by the financial crisis that led to the English Civil War.
From here, we press on to North Hill, the second-highest peak at 398m.
This one is ancient, with Bronze Age burials found on its slopes.
It’s also steeped in folklore. An 1882 guide described an “immense grave” on the summit known as the “Giant’s Grave”.
The path that runs along its flank was once the “Pyx Path,” used by medieval priests bringing Sacrament to hermits. Local legend, however, gave it a more magical name: the “Pixie Path,” believing it was a thoroughfare for fairies.
Table Hill and Sugarloaf
The ridge walk is now truly underway. We’re “ridge-hopping,” a glorious up-and-down rhythm that takes us over Table Hill, descriptively named for its flat top, and Sugarloaf Hill.
These hills are the 680-million-year-old “bones” of the earth, pure Precambrian igneous and metamorphic rock.
Like Happy Valley, Sugarloaf is a simple, descriptive name, given to any hill that resembled the conical “sugarloaf” that sugar was sold in for centuries.
From its summit, you get a fantastic view looking back at the 17th-century enclosure banks scarring the side of North Hill.
The Summit of Worcestershire: The Beacon
Now for the big one: the 425m (1,394 ft) summit of the Worcestershire Beacon.
This is the highest point in the county, and the panorama is staggering.
On a clear day, you can see parts of 13 counties, the cathedrals of Worcester, Gloucester, and Hereford, and even the glittering line of the Bristol Channel.
This summit, marked by a toposcope, wasn’t just for views; it was for communication.
It was a key signaling point in 1588, part of the chain of beacons lit to warn of the approaching Spanish Armada.
And long before that, like North Hill, it was a sacred site for Bronze Age settlers, who left burial mounds on its summit.
The Ancient Highway: The Shire Ditch
As we continue south from the Beacon, we’re walking on an artifact. The path is the history. This is the Shire Ditch, also known as the “Red Earl’s Dyke”.
This massive bank and ditch, which still defines the border between Worcestershire and Herefordshire, will be our companion for a few miles.
The legend of its creation is fantastic. It was reportedly (re)built in 1287 by Gilbert de Clare, the “Red Earl” of Gloucester, after a bitter boundary dispute with the Bishop of Hereford.
The story goes that the Red Earl, in a masterful act of medieval spite, built the ditch just downhill from the summit on his side.
Why? So the Bishop’s livestock could easily wander into his lands, but the steep bank would make it impossible for them to get back out. It was a 13th-century livestock trap carved into a mountain range.
But here’s the thing. The Red Earl’s story, brilliant as it is, is just one chapter.
This ditch is so much older. Archaeological work suggests the 13th-century dyke was built on top of earlier Bronze Age earthworks.
It may have even started as a prehistoric trackway connecting the hillforts.
We are walking on a living monument, a 4,000-year-old feature that has been rebranded and repurposed—from a Bronze Age boundary to a medieval political statement to the official county line and, today, our footpath.
Cafe Stops Wyche
Now then, this circular ridge walk either way crosses over the Wyche Cutting Road and each way has perfectly placed refreshment stops at half way each way.
On the outward ridge journey you can take the 100 m detour to the H20 Cafe. On the way back you will pass by the The Wyche Inn.
Perseverance, Jubilee, and Pinnacle
The ridge continues, testing the legs over a series of “mini-peaks.” We cross Perseverance Hill, where two subtle round barrows mark Bronze Age burial mounds.
Next is Jubilee Hill, named to commemorate Queen Victoria’s 1887 Jubilee.
Finally, we climb Pinnacle Hill. The view west from here is remarkable, looking out over “lumpy country” towards Hope End, the “picturesque” childhood home of the poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
The Iron Age Fortress: Herefordshire Beacon (British Camp)
We’ve arrived at the southern terminus of our ridge walk, and you see a showstopper ahead: The Herefordshire Beacon, better known as British Camp. The hill is the fortification. This hill will need a walk and article all to itself.
It’s a “bewildering complex of earthworks”, a series of “snaking ramparts” that rise up the hill in tiers, earning it the nickname the “giant wedding cake”.
This is one of the finest examples of a contour hillfort in Britain.
This fort was first built in the 2nd century BC and massively expanded around 400 BC. A 2000 survey found remnants of 118 homes, suggesting this wasn’t just a fort but a massive settlement of up to 4,000 people.
Local legend, and even the composer Elgar, claimed this was the site of the last stand of the British chieftain Caractacus against the Romans in AD 51.
But it’s a romantic myth. The Roman historian Tacitus, who described the battle, mentions a “river without easy crossings” at the fort’s front.
The Severn is miles away, making the location a poor fit.
The hill’s story doesn’t end there. Look at the very summit, the “citadel.” Those inner earthworks are different.
They are the remains of a 12th-century Norman “ringwork” castle, built around 1148 and destroyed just a few years later in 1155.
The Normans didn’t choose this spot by accident. This hill was the most visible, high-status, and strategically dominant “power-spot” in the entire chain, guarding the primary pass through the hills
By building their castle directly on top of the 1,000-year-old pagan citadel, they were making a powerful symbolic statement: “We are the new masters.”
As you look towards its eastern slope. That picturesque lake is the British Camp Reservoir.
It’s not ancient, but a marvel of Victorian engineering, completed in 1895 at a cost of £60,000 to solve Malvern’s water shortages.
It’s fed by a 15-inch “spring water collector main” that runs the entire length of the hills, all the way from North Malvern, physically connecting the two ends of the ridge we just walked.
It is now disused, with plans to return it to nature.
The Return Journey: Along the Lower Slopes
A Pilgrimage of Wells
As we meander north along this gentle eastern slope, our focus shifts from geology to hydrology. This is “Well Dressing” territory. We’re now in the heart of what made Malvern famous.
Our first major stop is the Holy Well. This is where Malvern’s water story begins. It’s claimed to be the world’s oldest bottling plant.
This was the most popular 18th-century spring, with medieval legends of St. Oswald and monks using its water for cures.
This is where Dr. John Wall, in 1743, famously analyzed the water and declared its purity came from the fact it “contained ‘nothing at all’”.
The “famous, the wealthy and the curious” flocked to Malvern for this new treatment.
The celebrity patient list was impressive, including regular visitors like Florence Nightingale, as well as Charles Dickens, Lord Tennyson, and Henry James.
The most famous patient, however, was Charles Darwin.
He came in 1849, desperately ill, and was enthusiastic about the cure, writing in a letter that he was “heated by Spirit lamp till I stream with perspiration, & am then suddenly rubbed violently with towels dripping with cold water” and concluding, “I feel certain that the Water Cure is no quackery”.
Tragically, his beloved daughter Annie later died in Malvern and is buried in the town.
As we continue, we pass other, smaller springs, each with a name and a history, like Mason’s Spring, linked to a 19th-century landowner , and Walms Well.
The Final Stop: St. Ann’s Well
As per our route, our last major stop before descending back to town is the iconic St. Ann’s Well. This is the perfect bookend to our walk.
This well, with its ornate Victorian spout and charming cafe, was the social and medicinal heart of the 19th-century “Water Cure” boom.
This spring, more than any other, built the town we’re about to re-enter. This was the destination for those donkey rides that started in Happy Valley, bringing the whole walk full circle.
I’ll grab a cup of tea at the cafe, and reflect on the (somewhat ironic) advice that the well water, despite its fame, should probably be boiled before drinking.
The Landscape of a Composer: Elgar’s Malvern
As I make the final descent from St. Ann’s Well, it’s impossible not to think of the town’s most famous resident. His presence is woven into the very landscape of this walk: Sir Edward Elgar.
You don’t just walk past Elgar’s inspiration; you walk directly through it or observe it.
The epic, ancient ramparts of British Camp, which we stood on, directly inspired his cantata, Caractacus.
The toposcope on the Worcestershire Beacon, which we passed, was designed by his close friend, Arthur Troyte Griffith.
In a perfect loop of friendship and art, Griffith himself is immortalised as Variation VII of Elgar’s Enigma Variations.
It was here, living first at ‘Forli’ in Malvern Link and later at ‘Craeg Lea’ on the Wells Road, that he composed much of his most famous music, including the Enigma Variations.
His study at ‘Craeg Lea’ provided spectacular views across the Severn Valley, the same views we’ve been enjoying all day.
It’s impossible to stand on that ridge, with that huge, sweeping “Land of Hope and Glory” panorama, and not feel the swell of his music.
He is buried, fittingly, just at the foot of the ridge in St. Wulstan’s Church in Little Malvern. This landscape wasn’t just a backdrop for him; it was his muse.
Conclusion: Back to the Beginning
The final descent from St. Ann’s Well is short, taking us back into the Victorian streets of Great Malvern. My legs are tired, but my head is full.
We’ve walked on 680-million-year-old rock, traced a 4,000-year-old boundary, stood on an Iron Age citadel, and seen the site of Armada beacons.
We’ve followed the 17th-century enclosures of a desperate king and trod the 19th-century paths of donkey-riding Victorians.
This loop is the only way to truly understand the Malverns. You conquer the “Spine,” then make a pilgrimage to the “Spring.” A perfect, exhaustive journey through geology, conflict, folklore, and water, all packed into one incredible ridge.
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