Bivvy Bag Camping in the Malverns: A Test of the Alpkit Elan

Wild camping in the ramparts of an Iron Age hillfort. Is it possible to sleep well in something that feels like a glorified body bag?

The Alpkit Elan in the Malvern Hills

I'd been meaning to try bivvy camping on the Malvern Hills for quite a while. I bought my Alpkit Elan hooped bivvy around a year ago because I wanted something for low profile camping on the Malverns without quite as much worry about being moved on by a warden. Wild camping is a bit different here compared with most places. The Malvern Hills Trust has byelaws prohibiting camping and can fine you up to £500. Obviously, they'd have to know who you are before they could fine you and I simply wouldn't give them my details. I'd rather not have to test the system though. There are sometimes wardens about keeping an eye out for rule breakers, so if you're going to camp on these hills, staying discreet is particularly important.

Despite buying the bivvy with this sort of camping in mind, I didn't actually use it last year. I'd set myself a few little challenges this year to get out and do more camping and one of them was to spend a night on the Malverns in the bivvy. I decided on Midsummer Hill, at the southern end of the Malverns and close to home in Ledbury. I'd camped up there in my tent around this time last year and really liked it. It's a beautiful, relatively quiet hill and, if you get the weather, it's a brilliant place for both sunset and sunrise.

The only real problem with tent camping there is finding somewhere flat. Last time I ended up pitching on a slope that looked gentle at first glance. It wasn't. During the night I gradually started sliding down the hill inside my tent, which isn't a particularly restful camping experience. The Elan bivvy offered another option because it's narrow enough that I could sleep in one of the relatively flat sections of the old ramparts around the hill rather than having to find a big enough patch of ground for a tent.

I just had to get up there first.

I'd forgotten how steep the walk up Midsummer Hill is. I haven't done that much hill walking over the last month or so and the combination of a bit of a lack of fitness, a large backpack and the steep climb meant I was pretty knackered by the time I reached the top. I then had to find a suitable spot to camp. 

The start of the walk up Midsummer Hill

It gets more steep further up

My first option for a camping spot was on the lower western rampart, where I found a nice flat section that was relatively secluded from the summit. The remainder of the path along that side was pretty much blocked by overgrown ferns, so I reckoned that anyone walking through the area from the north would be far more likely to go over the top of the hill than battle their way through a load of tick infested vegetation just to walk along the ramparts. It seemed like a reasonable bet for getting an undisturbed night.

I carried on looking anyway. Ideally, I wanted one of those perfect camping spots where you can lie down and look out over the hills to the north. There were some lovely viewpoints, but the problem was that the best bits were also the bits where people were most likely to walk. After sunset it was pretty unlikely that anyone would be heading up there, but I'd still rather not be lying in a bivvy bag directly alongside the main path if I could avoid it. Eventually I decided that the original spot was probably the best option and went back there.

The shelter on the summit of Midsummer Hill

A view to the rest of the Malverns in the north

The entrance to the lower western rampart where I'd camp

The weather was good so I sat around enjoying the scenery as the sun was going down over Eastnor obelisk across the way. I opened a can of lager and prepared to pitch up my home for the night. I had a quick look up at the top of the hill and there was no one about, so i started setting up the Alpkit Elan. 

Sunset on Midsummer Hill

It didn't take very long to pitch. It's absolutely tiny. I'd already accepted that I wasn't going to be rolling around, but I wanted to maximise the amount of space I had inside it. Instead of taking my thicker Flextail R05 inflatable mat, I brought my relatively low-profile Vango Trek Compact self-inflating mat. I also put a folding foam mat underneath the bivvy and my Therm-a-Rest sit mat where my shoulders would be for a bit of extra comfort.

Yes, I'm actually going to sleep in that

Alpkit Elan on Midsummer Hill, Herefordshire 

It didn't look like it was going to be particularly luxurious, but I hoped it would be enough. I finished my can, sat there for a while looking at the stars and then decided it was time to get inside my pimped up bin-liner. I made a fairly significant mistake at this point by fully zipping the bivvy up. The Elan has netting at the head end and there's also the option of having a net section over the opening, but I found that a bit cumbersome to operate with all the zips. I decided I'd just close the whole thing up, which was fine at the time and considerably less fine several hours later.

Darkness falls

The Alpkit Elan is quite cozy

I woke up a few times. At one point I needed a wee, partly because I'd had the beer and partly because I'm middle aged and always need at least one visit to the loo during the night. Despite that, I actually slept surprisingly well. In the morning, my watch told me that I'd had 7 hours and 45 minutes of sleep, which was considerably more than I expected from what is essentially a fabric tube on a windy hillfort. In terms of longevity it was one of the best night's sleep I've had when wild camping. 

Morning!

Not a bad sleep, all things considered

The only real problem I had was the condensation. When I properly woke up, everything was damp. The inside of the bivvy had accumulated a fair amount of moisture overnight and my sleeping bag wasn't exactly dry either. I'd also managed to wake up about 20 minutes after sunrise, which was annoying. I normally set an alarm when I'm camping because I like to get up for sunrise, but I'd stopped doing it because I always seemed to wake up before the alarm anyway. Sod's law.

Everything was quite damp

There was no point rushing up to the summit now because I'd already missed the sunrise, so I took my time. I cleaned my teeth, glugged down a load of water and started packing everything away. The sleeping bag was properly damp, so I gave it as much of a shake and air as I could while packing. I also had to give the bivvy a good shake to get the condensation off it. 

Once everything was packed away, I walked over the top of Midsummer Hill and then carried on east towards the top of nearby Hollybush Hill. I wanted to have a bit of a mooch around and see what the camping possibilities were like up there. There seemed to be some good spots. 

Leave no trace

Looking north from Midsummer Hill

Approaching Hollybush Hill from Midsummer Hill

From Hollybush Hill I made my way down through the woodland between the hills towards where I'd left the car in Hollybush. My original plan had been a bit more ambitious. I'd intended to carry on over Raggedstone Hill and Chase End Hill and make a long loop back to the car, which would have made a decent little morning walk after the camp. By this point, though, I was feeling pretty satisfied with the experience I'd already had. I'd spent the night on Midsummer Hill, had a beer under the stars, slept for nearly eight hours and had a wander around a couple of local hills. I also had a wife and daughter at home who I'd quite like to get back to, so I decided I'd done enough messing about on the hills for one night and headed straight to the car.

The top of Hollybush Hill

Walking through woodland between Midsummer Hill and Hollybush Hill

A glimpse of Hollybush Quarry

I got back to Ledbury and, as it turned out, my wife and daughter were still in bed. So I'd managed to get my little adventure in without really missing any parenting time at all, which is pretty good going!

The bivvy experiment had been relatively successful. It was certainly more discreet and much easier to find a suitable pitch for than my tent, and being able to sleep on the relatively flat ramparts was a big advantage on Midsummer Hill. The condensation is something I'll have to think about next time. It's a massive issue. Leaving it more open for ventilation would probably have helped considerably, although there is always a balance between keeping the damp out and letting the cold in. Apparently it's better to use a tarp over the top and then open up the bivvy more. If I've got to carry a tarp as well though, I may as well just take my Lanshan 2 tent, which would probably be lighter than the tarp and bivvy combo, more comfortable and no less inconspicuous. It's difficult to work out the perfect environment for the Elan. I wouldn't want to use it if it was hot, as it would be far too enclosed and sweaty. In the cold, I wouldn't want to open it up and let the draft in, therefore condensation would be a big problem again. 

I also need to get used to the lack of space. The Elan is never going to feel spacious. You get in, lie down and that's pretty much it. There's no sitting up to get dressed, no rummaging around for something at the other end and definitely no changing your mind about where you've put your kit without getting out of the thing. 

But that's kind of the point I suppose. It's small, quick to put up, very inconspicuous and suited the job I bought it for. It also felt a bit more like hardcore, proper camping. Like a sort of right of passage, and it felt good to tick off another one of the pointless challenges I'd set myself. 

I've got a few more camping challenges in mind for next year, so I'm sure the bivvy will be coming out again. Hopefully next time I'll remember to leave the thing open enough to stop myself waking up in a damp sleeping bag. And maybe I'll even set an alarm.