On Dick Turpin’s trail - a tramp in the woods to Loughton Camp in Epping Forest

Deep in the heart of the primeval greenwood of Epping Forest lies Loughton Camp – the reputed secret hide-out of the legendary highwayman Dick Turpin.

Dick Turpin and his gang of 18^th century Essex Boy gangsters terrorised the district until one by one they faced justice – which in those days meant a sticky end swinging from a rope.

Epping Forest has been woodland since the last Ice Age. But it is not untouched, virgin territory.

Loughton Camp is an Iron Age hill fort built on one of the highest parts of Epping Forest. At the time there were views over London as the immediate area was clear of trees. It made a perfect base for Turpin – allowing him to see approaching coaches and travellers who he could relieve of their valuables.

Approaching the Camp from the Staples Hill area of Loughton means a walk down the steep slopes of the valley through which flows the meandering stream of Loughton Brook. The slightest rainfall reduces the paths to quagmires which the clay soil clawing at any loose boot. Decent footwear is essential.

Valley’s invariably have two sides. From the still waters of Baldwin’s Pond it is a steady climb up. Small clumps of Gorse can be seen signalling dryer soil and if you look you may see some pollarded trees, of which more later.

Once the ground levels off it is necessary to leave any major path for the Camp is buried in the forest. That no doubt was why it was not rediscovered until 1872! It was originally thought to be a Roman fort but it is much older than that. It seems to have been built around 500 BC (well over 2,500 years ago) probably by a Celtic tribe known as the Trinovantes, whose capital was at Colchester. The fort may have been a defensive border post with their rivals, the Catuvellauni who were the most powerful tribe in Ancient Britain and were based in what is now north London and Hertfordshire.

Loughton Camp consists of a circular earth bank and ditch which is still easily visible although it has eroded and is much less pronounced than it would have been when constructed. A wooden fence would have almost certainly been built around the top. It encloses a large area of around eleven acres.

Besides its warlike use, the camp was probably also used as a cattle enclosure. Some might be surprised to learn that cattle have long grazed in the woodland and have been reintroduced into the forest to help with the natural conservation of the environment.

Before Dick Turpin, this part of the forest was inhabited by a female hermit. Some say she was a witch, or romantically perhaps she was just a vagrant. One side of Loughton Camp falls way to a deep valley known as Kate’s Cellar, named after this shady lady. When did she live there? No one knows. The date is lost to time but suggestions ranging over 400 years apart have been made. A mystery indeed. Perhaps she lived a long time.

Kate must have been long gone by the time Dick Turpin used the woods for sanctuary.

Dick Turpin was an Essex lad. In 1725 he was a butcher based in Buckhurst Hill. He seems to have been drawn into a life of crime through selling poached deer. He soon got involved in more desperate enterprises. His Essex Gang specialised in breaking into peoples’ houses, terrorising the inhabitants at gunpoint to reveal their wealth and stealing their horses. Their behaviour was anything but glamorous. Rape and torture were their brutal trademarks. As the frequency of their savage attacks increased the authorities set out to stamp them out. By 1735 most of the vicious gang had been captured and swiftly executed.

It seems that Turpin only turned to Highway Robbery after this – the old ’stand and deliver, your money or your life’. Beyond the myth Turpin was hardly a ‘Gentleman of the Road’. Besides his brutality he was rather short and had a pox marked face. His first highway robbery was in Epping Forest and it was here that he made his base in a cave. This was probably a scrapped out shelter in the banks of Loughton Camp rather than a proper cave.

Several locations have been suggested for Turpin’s Cave and at one time there was even a pub of that name in the Forest. Loughton Camp is the most authentic location – featuring in a map by Loughton surveyor William D’Oyley in 1876.

Turpin occasionally travelled to Whitechapel to sell stolen horses. One such foray in 1737 led to a shoot-out and Turpin fled back to his cave where he stayed in hiding.

After a few weeks a local gamekeeper called Thomas Morris stumbled across him. Turpin pulled out his gun and shot Morris to death. He was now a murderer. Epping Forest was no longer a safe haven.

This led to Turpin’s flight up north with a £200 reward on his head – by later legend on the back of his trusty stead Black Bess. He gave himself a new identity – calling himself John Palmer. Like many such miscreants he chose an alias associated with his family – in this case an approximation to his mother’s maiden name.

But Turpin couldn’t stay out of trouble. As ‘Palmer’ he was arrested in late 1738 in Yorkshire on a minor charge but was it was soon established that he was a horse thief and he was transferred to York Castle in handcuffs. From his jail Turpin write to his brother on law in Essex. Unfortunately the postmaster recognised Turpin’s handwriting which led to his true identity being uncovered. The postmaster got the £200 reward. Turpin was tired in York Assizes and on 7^th March 1739 was hung in the gallows at the age of 34.

I mentioned pollarded trees. For hundreds of years Epping Forest was a major source of wood - for constructing and for fuel – particularly for London. Instead of just cutting down trees, this resource was carefully husbanded.

In Epping Forest the trees tended to be cut at about head height so that cattle and deer could not eat the new shoots that turned into saplings and grow into branches. After about twenty years these trees could be harvested, cut and used as poles. This was the major source of heating in London prior to the coal trade being established. Some of the pollarded trees in Epping Forest are believed to be 700 years old.

The relevance here is that virtually every tree inside Loughton Camp is an aged pollard. It was effectively an industrial zone up to 1879 when the last trees were ‘lopped’ – or cut. Since then the pollards have become misshapen and top-heavy, creating strange shapes.

Until 1878 the inhabitants of Loughton would gather at midnight on St Martin’s Day, 11^th November, each year to celebrate the start of the lopping season. After a long session in the pub a torch lit procession would wend its way into the forest and the first bough would be cut with great ceremony. The lopping season would then continue until St George’s Day, 23^rd April, in the following year.

The declining importance of wood as a renewable energy resource led to schemes to develop the forest for housing. As long ago as the 1860s there were attempts to divide the forest into plots of land. A road was pushed through which is now the muddy path that leads past Baldwin’s Pond towards Loughton Camp. When the plan were thwarted by the passing of the Epping Forest Act in 1878 it was abandoned but is still called Clays Road.

Where Clays Road levels off it crosses another wide path at what is called Sand Pit Plain. This other path is called the Green Ride and was created in 1882 for a Royal visit and was formerly called Victoria’s Ride. Loughton Camp is just off Green Ride.

Legend has it that Queen Boudicca of the Iceni used the Camp to rest her army prior to her final battle with the Roman invaders. Rumours that her ghost or that of a Roman Centurion haunt the banks.

Ghost stories abound in the dark woods.

In the stream is that a fish or water vole causing ripples?

The rustle in the bushes. Is it a predatory weasel or a timid rabbit?

The creak of the bough. Is it the restless the lost soul of poor murdered Thomas Morris?

At dusk is that an owl or a bat fluttering overhead - or is it Kate on her broomstick.

Listen! Are those hooves you hear? Is it fallow deer or cattle going to feed in a glade? Or is it the phantom of Dick Turpin riding Black Bess to York.