Afternoon folks,
So I came across this place when out jogging one evening, the fact I'd ran past it numerous times without even realising it was there proves how secluded the place is.
Once I'd seen the place I had to return to check it out. It was a few weeks later before I managed to find time to return so with the sun shining, I grabbed my camera and set off to see what was hiding in the hills of Clent.
Upon arrival it was still very difficult to find the shack even though I knew where it was, I crawled past and eventually came across it so I parked up and with my torch shining brightly, disappeared into the bushes. The feeling I got was 'American Horror' I know that sounds very dramatic but you don't see these kind of places in England. The whole shack was made out of wood and there was a very damp smell in the air, being very secluded and hidden in the overgrowth, the sun rarely reaches this place. I quickly worked out I was at the back of the shack and sheepishly took a look through one of the cracks in the wood, half expecting a tramp like person to be staring back at me. It was pitch black inside and I couldn't see a thing.
I managed to beat down nature and I found myself at the front of the shack, again, very much American, with a wooden porch running the length of the shack. The door was wide open and I stood staring into darkness for a what seemed like an age listening for any noise coming from inside, with silence I shone my torch ahead and headed into the unknown.
I was greeted by the same old musky, damp smell that I had smelt at the back of the building, the floor was silent but very soft under foot, nature was slowly rotting this place and was slowly taking back the ground it stood on. There was a room either side of me, so I decided to go to my right first. This was the bedroom, complete with bed, drawers and clothes all over the floor. I did move one of the chest of drawers to reach for an old newspaper but something moved under the all the rubbish so I left it (presume it was a rat). So with that I left sharpish to explore the next room. I presumed this was the living area, not much in this one, a heater and a mirror were the most interesting it got in there. I did find another door though so I carefully walked across the rotten floor and entered a kitchen area, this was probably the part of the shack that was in ok condition. Sinks, cupboards and worktops all still in place. I wondered outside to find what I thought was a dog kennel, no dogs inside though!
Now for the really interesting part, I had wondered back around the front of the shack and discovered a garden where I presume vegetables were once grown, it was more like a little allotment plot than a garden. Anyway, as I was snapping my last photo, I hear a deep voice yell 'Oi, what you doing up there' To which I replied 'Just taking photographs mate' while I was still in the process of getting the last shot. By the time I had shot, the guy was up the bank and standing in front of me as I turned around. Again he asked what I was doing, I explained I was interested I abandoned places and was doing no harm and just taking a few photographs. He then told me to leave, to which I obliged. On the way down the bank I asked him about the history of the place, to which he ignored me. Once at the bottom of the bank and back on the lane, I asked again 'What's the history behind this place then?' The guy seemed very sheepish and reluctant to disclose any information and grunted 'Its got nothing to do with you, now clear off! At this point I walked off down the lane and back to my car.
Iv since tried to find out more about the shack but to no avail, I even contacted a history group that specializes in Clent Hills but they never got back to me. In my own head I created a little story about this guy growing up in the shack with he's parents and he's parents passing away there which would imply why this guy is so protective over this old wooden shack.
I found the place very hard to capture with the camera hence why my write up was so long, I hope it wasn't to long and gave you a picture of what my explore was like.
Thanks for looking
View from the lane, the back of the shack...
Front of the shack...
My entrance into the dark unknown...
I bet bedtime was still cold even with this heater...
Think the bed had seen better days...
Wonder what a day was like in these boots...
Worktops could do with a clean...
Someone's shirt was soaking in the sink...
Electricians porn...
Selfie anyone?
Another heater for those cold winter months...
Garden essentials...
The garden...
Bit of blue for the dads...
So I came across this place when out jogging one evening, the fact I'd ran past it numerous times without even realising it was there proves how secluded the place is.
Once I'd seen the place I had to return to check it out. It was a few weeks later before I managed to find time to return so with the sun shining, I grabbed my camera and set off to see what was hiding in the hills of Clent.
Upon arrival it was still very difficult to find the shack even though I knew where it was, I crawled past and eventually came across it so I parked up and with my torch shining brightly, disappeared into the bushes. The feeling I got was 'American Horror' I know that sounds very dramatic but you don't see these kind of places in England. The whole shack was made out of wood and there was a very damp smell in the air, being very secluded and hidden in the overgrowth, the sun rarely reaches this place. I quickly worked out I was at the back of the shack and sheepishly took a look through one of the cracks in the wood, half expecting a tramp like person to be staring back at me. It was pitch black inside and I couldn't see a thing.
I managed to beat down nature and I found myself at the front of the shack, again, very much American, with a wooden porch running the length of the shack. The door was wide open and I stood staring into darkness for a what seemed like an age listening for any noise coming from inside, with silence I shone my torch ahead and headed into the unknown.
I was greeted by the same old musky, damp smell that I had smelt at the back of the building, the floor was silent but very soft under foot, nature was slowly rotting this place and was slowly taking back the ground it stood on. There was a room either side of me, so I decided to go to my right first. This was the bedroom, complete with bed, drawers and clothes all over the floor. I did move one of the chest of drawers to reach for an old newspaper but something moved under the all the rubbish so I left it (presume it was a rat). So with that I left sharpish to explore the next room. I presumed this was the living area, not much in this one, a heater and a mirror were the most interesting it got in there. I did find another door though so I carefully walked across the rotten floor and entered a kitchen area, this was probably the part of the shack that was in ok condition. Sinks, cupboards and worktops all still in place. I wondered outside to find what I thought was a dog kennel, no dogs inside though!
Now for the really interesting part, I had wondered back around the front of the shack and discovered a garden where I presume vegetables were once grown, it was more like a little allotment plot than a garden. Anyway, as I was snapping my last photo, I hear a deep voice yell 'Oi, what you doing up there' To which I replied 'Just taking photographs mate' while I was still in the process of getting the last shot. By the time I had shot, the guy was up the bank and standing in front of me as I turned around. Again he asked what I was doing, I explained I was interested I abandoned places and was doing no harm and just taking a few photographs. He then told me to leave, to which I obliged. On the way down the bank I asked him about the history of the place, to which he ignored me. Once at the bottom of the bank and back on the lane, I asked again 'What's the history behind this place then?' The guy seemed very sheepish and reluctant to disclose any information and grunted 'Its got nothing to do with you, now clear off! At this point I walked off down the lane and back to my car.
Iv since tried to find out more about the shack but to no avail, I even contacted a history group that specializes in Clent Hills but they never got back to me. In my own head I created a little story about this guy growing up in the shack with he's parents and he's parents passing away there which would imply why this guy is so protective over this old wooden shack.
I found the place very hard to capture with the camera hence why my write up was so long, I hope it wasn't to long and gave you a picture of what my explore was like.
Thanks for looking
View from the lane, the back of the shack...
Front of the shack...
My entrance into the dark unknown...
I bet bedtime was still cold even with this heater...
Think the bed had seen better days...
Wonder what a day was like in these boots...
Worktops could do with a clean...
Someone's shirt was soaking in the sink...
Electricians porn...
Selfie anyone?
Another heater for those cold winter months...
Garden essentials...
The garden...
Bit of blue for the dads...
