High on the lonely ridges of the Black Mountain range lie the scattered remains of two very different aircraft, separated by era but united by the same unforgiving terrain.
Wellington Bomber
During the Second World War, a Vickers Wellington came down in poor weather on these hills. The Wellington was a workhorse of RAF Bomber Command, known for its distinctive geodetic construction, which allowed parts of the airframe to survive even violent impacts. Scattered wreckage remains at the site.
Many of these crashes were the result of low cloud, navigational error or training exercises gone wrong rather than enemy action. The Black Mountain range is high and broad, often shrouded in mist. In marginal weather, they give very little warning. For aircrew flying without modern navigation aids, a slight miscalculation could be fatal.
Vampire Jet
Years later, a de Havilland Vampire met a similar fate in the same range. The Vampire was one of Britainโs early jet fighters, a sleek and radical design in its day. Its presence here marks the transition from propeller-driven bombers to the jet age, yet the hills proved just as dangerous.
Jet aircraft were faster and more powerful, but they were still vulnerable to the same combination of low cloud, rising ground and limited visibility. Wreckage from the Vampire is typically more compact, with heavier components such as engine parts and structural sections surviving the impact.
Visiting the Site
Reaching these crash sites is a serious upland walk. The ground is often boggy, navigation can be tricky, and weather can turn quickly. You are in proper mountain country, despite the relatively modest summit heights. Treat this as a full-day walk. The six-hour estimate needs extra allowance for stops, navigation and boggy ground; plan to finish in daylight.
If you go:
Carry a map and compass and know how to use them.
Do not rely solely on a phone.
Treat the wreckage with respect. Military aircraft crash sites in the UK are protected by law; do not disturb or remove any wreckage.
Leave everything exactly as you find it.
There is something sobering about standing beside twisted metal in such a quiet landscape. The wind moves across the grass, skylarks lift overhead, and the wreckage sits as a reminder of the human cost behind aviation history.
It is not just a walk. It is a moment of reflection on how unforgiving both mountains and machines can be.