Episode 13 Haunted Roads Part 2

Hello, welcome to Lights on Still Scared, episode thirteen. My name is Karen Swanson, and with me is Graham Millie. Today we'll be traveling once again along haunted roads. Oh, my next story. Actually, it's quite it's quite a sad one, actually, and it's quite a recent one as well. So we're going to the A three.

Right.

Um, which the A three runs from central London down to Portsmouth, so it's quite a bit of a long road. Right. And much of it, the route, follows or replaces the historic Portsmouth Road. So that's Portsmouth Road's quite an old one. And the road carries soldiers, sailors, stagecoaches, traders and travellers between London and the naval port. Now this will be quite important in the little story I have a little bit later on. So December the 11th, 2002, during the evening, the Surrey police received several reports from motorists using the A3 near Burpham Slip Road outside Guildford. Now I've been down this road, I do know this road quite well. Um the witnesses reported describing a car losing control on the carriageway, headlights appeared to leave the road, and the vehicle was said to have crashed down the embankment into trees and undergrowth. I don't think, from memory, I don't think there was a barrier there. So you just go straight down to the embankment, which is not brilliant. No, yeah, not not the safest thing. Some accounts say more than one motorist reported the same apparition accident, and police attended, believing it was a recent collision had occurred. Officers searched the roadside in the embankment and no newly crashed vehicles was immediately visible. There's no injured driver calling for help. There's no debris uh from a fresh uh collision was found. And the report the accident seemed to have vanished. Um But because the motorists have apparently seen something, officers carried out more extensive search. Now I know from my previous job when I used to do accidents, there would have been signs on the roads if there'd been if a car had gone off the road. Yeah, been skid marks and probably bits and pieces of the car on there, but there's nothing at all to say that that happened. So I don't know if it's later on or the next day the police eventually located a car hidden in dense vegetation down the embankment. The vehicle had not crashed that evening.

Right.

Uh it appeared to have been there for several months. Human remains were discovered with or close to the car, and dental records identified the deceased as a Christopher Bryan Chandler, age twenty-one.

Right.

Chandler came from Isleworth, Middlesex area of West London.

Right.

But what was interesting was that the car that was actually seen on the road is the same description as the actual car that they found.

Okay, right.

So he'd been reported missing approximately five months earlier during July 2002, and he reportedly wanted by Metropolitan Police in connection with alleged robbery.

Okay.

The hidden car appears to have left the A3 months before the motors reported seeing the crash in the same area. So that's interesting there.

Knob, yeah.

So what they seem to think well, what things what might have happened was that Chandler may have lost control of the vehicle and left the A3 during July 2002, and the car travelled down the embankment, was concealed by the dense summer vegetation. Um and he may have died in the vehicle, survived the initial impact briefly. But some evidence uh say, or some accounts say evidence suggested that he attempted to leave through the passenger side. Um the fact that the the vegetation actually concealed it meant he wasn't found until December. Um but it's the fact that so many people saw this car leave. What could it be? Could it be a residue haunting? Or is it possible that it it was a crisis apparition because he wanted to be found? Yeah. Interesting one, that one.

It is, it's kind of answered my question as well. Why disguise so many ghost car stories? Maybe it is just a recording of something dramatic that happened.

Yeah, I mean there've been several um things um on the A3. I mean the older A3 at Hindhead, uh before 2011, the A3 climbed around the Devil's Punch Bowl at Hindhead. Um so it's quite narrow. And what actually made me chuckle is the actual legend of the punch bowl and how it got his name. According to legend, the devil tormented Thor by jumping between the nearby devil's jumps. Thor attacked him with a thunderbolt and lightning, and the devil scooped up a huge handful of earth and hurled out Thor. The whole left behind became the devil's punch bowl. So that that did make me chuckle. It just seemed like handbags at dawn, didn't it? Yeah, it does.

I like the thunderbolt and lightning bit. Very, very frightening. But enough of the queen analogies. But yeah, terrifying. Um Thor and the Devil, that's an odd nix. Thor's Thor's not a very British.

I mean Thor is what? Uh Nordic? Nordic, and the devil is the devil, I suppose, yeah. But um 24th of September in 1786, is that there was a murder um on that road. Um an unidentified sailor was walking from London to Plymouth to rejoin his ship. That's a hell of a walk. That is a hell of a very long walk. Um at the Red Line Inn in Thursday, he met three other sailors, a James Marshall, a Michael Casey, and an Edward Lugan. I might have said that wrong, but never mind. Um the unknown sailor generously brought the men food and drink. That was nice of him, and he left the inn with them and continued to in Hineshead. Three men attacked him near the devil's punch bowl. He was murdered, stripped of his clothing, reportedly almost decapitated. That wasn't nice, considering they brought in lunch. Uh the body was left in the hollow beside the Portsmouth Road, and the killers continued until rake and attempted to sell the man's clothes in the Sun Inn when they were they were quickly apprehended.

Didn't go well for them after that.

Didn't go well for them, no, no. The three murderers were tried in Kingston and they were executed on the 7th of April, 1787. So it took them several months to actually find them guilty. Um and their bodies were hung in chains and a triple Gibbet close to the murder scene. And the location became known as Gibbet Hill. Now I've never I've known Gibbet Hill, I never knew that was the reason why, but now I do know. The unknown sailor was buried in Thursley Churchyard. The sailor's stone was erected near the place where he was killed, and the murder and executions are historic documents rather than simple local legends. So yeah.

It did happen.

It did happen. So what happens at Gibbetts Hill?

Shh, I wouldn't let you see.

Well, travellers apparently became afraid to pass the Gibbet after dark. You would think so if they're there, they've got three of them hanging there. Off putting I would say uh the displayed bodies would have been visible from the Portsmouth Road. Rattling chains, moving corpse, and birds feeding on the remains would have produced a terrifying experience. No kidding. Dear me. Stories and superstitions developed around restless spirits and supernatural punishment. And possibly the apparitions include the murdered sailor, more on one of his killers and other highwaymen. So apparently phantom horses and coaches have also become part of the wider area on the old road. So there's a lot there.

There is.

Oh, there might be.

I always find wonder why certain roads seem to be more haunted than others and maybe whatever summoning I don't know. Depends if you believe in ley lines, I suppose.

But then I suppose you've got the devil and Thor running around as well, haven't you? But in 1851, Sir William Ill paid for a large Celtic cross to be erected on Gibbet Hill, intended to counter the hill's fearful reputation and local superstition. The monument was meant to arise the spirits of travellers and residents. The cross is now a grade two listed monument, so the cross is still there.

Is it like big? It's like a big monument.

But yeah, I mean there's also in 1945 an aircraft disaster near the area as well. A United States Army Air Force C-46 commando was flying in poor weather, and the aircraft struck one of the wooden radar towers at Gibbet Hill and crashed. All 30 passengers accrued were killed, and a Canadian serviceman on the ground also died, so the death toll was 31.

Goodness me.

So I mean that just adds to the layer of the landscape above the old three. So yeah, so there's a lot laying on as well. Um there's highway men as well, running up and down the Portsmouth Road and the A3. Um, our old friend Jerry Abershaw. Do you remember Jerry?

Was he did he not end up getting um hung himself?

He did, yes. He was the one who I worked out was running up and down the high street of Leatherhead.

Yes. Did he not stay in a local tavern? He did, yes.

Yes, yes, so he's meant to be there as well.

He gets around.

He does, yes. But that this was his territory though. I suppose so, yeah. Um so he terrorised travellers around the Kingston area and was executed in 1795. And his gang was associated with the bald-faced Stag Inn. That's a bit strange name for a pub.

Stag in. Stagger out.

Bald bald faced, yeah. Stag. Baldface stag.

Bald-faced.

Well, this one is on the Portsmouth Road. Oh dear. So yeah, so Hawkhurst Gang, which is Joe's Rang, was connected with uh a murder near Rake in 1749. So yeah, loads of things going on.

That's wild. That's a really um interesting collection of stories from one tiny area.

Just one one bit of road.

I wonder what the locals think living there. I wonder what the house prices are like.

Actually, they get quite high, actually.

This little story here was actually again one that was found online. It was submitted by uh a driver, a long list distance lorry driver named Jim, who had an experience of a ghostly road and was pretty reticent to talk about it, but would often be sort of cajoled into sharers and experiences in the pub. You know, as you do. As you do, when a few a few drinks and the old the old vocals open up when you start to talk about stuff, and that's that's what he did. So apparently what the guy who actually put forward this piece of documentation was in the pub witnessing him regaling the story. So he went and explained that while Jim was driving down the A eighty three between Invereri and Loch Gilpad, which I have no clue I know where Loch Gilped is, but I'm not I'm not good at naming Rome. Somebody's the A something dumped I'm like 'cause I don't drive. I mean I know Loch Gilpad. So he's driving between them at dusk and he passed a municipal dump on the outskirts of the village when without warning a figure stepped out from the verge and passed directly under his truck. So the shock driver slammed on his brakes and leaping from the cab raced back down the road where he expected to meet with a grisly sight. His search revealed nothing. Fearing the worst he then tentatively got onto his knees and peered under the truck, but found nothing. It was then he became a feeling of awareness of something standing watching him, and glancing back witnessed the sight of a motionless figure standing further down the road. The figure was described as being clad in black and was wearing what appeared to be a monk's habit.

Oh, not a monk.

Yeah, I know, I had to sneak a monk story in here as well. It remained motionless and not lingering to find out who or what it was, he leapt aboard his cab before speeding off down the road. Very unpleasant journey for him. Speaking of creepy figures by the road, Bamford, northeast of Scotland. This was told to me by a guy who described uh an instant when him and his band were driving back from a gig. So this is a first hand account. So the band was called Orpheus, and I hadn't heard them, it's a local band, but this was in the 70s, I believe it was in the early 70s, so it took place around 50 years ago. And he described the encounters hair-raising. Because while returning to Aberdeen after a gig, um he said, We played at the Kelder Bar in Banff and were returning home. There were four of us in the van, me and our lead guitarist who were driving, and another two guys in the back with our equipment. There was hardly any traffic late that night, and then we came to a long stretch of road which went downhill. There was a dry stained dike and a barbed wire fence and an open field behind it. On the driver's side there was also a dike and behind it a steep hill with a forest on top. Ahead of us my eye caught sight of something coming out of the trees. It was a figure and it was running down the hill towards the road in an ungainly fashion. It appeared to be human shaped. When it reached the fence, I thought, how is it going to go over? It came right through the fence and onto the verge. The whole time I said nothing to the driver until to my horror it stumbled onto the road in front of the van where I could clearly make out that it looked like a human being, though it seemed to have a bag or something over its head which went down to its waist. Oh dear. That's creepy as hell. So I shouted, What the F was that? Because we must have hit it even though there was no collision, and we felt or I felt it had gone right through the van. I asked the driver to hand over the torch, and we all jumped out, checked under the van, and even along the dike, there was nothing there. The rest of the guys who had been sleeping had woken up and began complaining how cold it was because the whole van was freezing, but on finding nothing we headed off. A week or so later we they played the same venue and naturally told all the people about their experience, and we're surprised to hear that several other people had witnessed a similar figure, though not necessarily going under their trucks. Who or what it was on that desolate piece of road remains unexplained to this day, but it is not a case in isolation. Figure with a bag down over its head, down its waist, staggering around. I know. No, that's at all. But yeah, that was it. So the guy said me should check out the pub, our locals about the story. I did post the question, has anybody heard that story on one of these Bam van Bucking Facebook pages? But so far nothing. But you know, who knows? I will carry on eventually.

Okay, so I have a quick one here. Um it it it did make me chuckle. So, you know, it's one of these ones. So we're back to leatherhead because I found this on the leather hair don't ghost Facebook page. Uh-huh. It says, Hi there, here's my encounter. Now I assume it's a man with the way that he said, so we say it's a he anyway.

Yeah.

Um I said it how it happened, and sadly, when I went back to save the video from the dash cam onto a stick that I'd reviewed earlier, I'd left it too late and it had been overwritten. Again, another oddity as it should last for seven days before being overwritten. It was 2005 and around 4 30 a.m. on Sunday after Derby day when I was driving along Lower Road in Bookham. Bookham's quite near leatherhead, so I know that I know that road. Okay. Um as I passed the bus stop at the top of Hawks Hill Rise, a lad in a pal blue suit stepped in the road with his thumb out. I pulled over but locked the doors and he walked up to the car window. I asked him where he wanted to go, and he told me he wanted to get to the nearest train station. I said his best bet was leatherhead. And I'll give him a lift. And he got into the car and we started chatting. First thing I noticed is that he didn't have a mobile and seemed confused when I asked him where he'd left his. He asked if he could smoke and I said yes, but asked him if he could open the window, in which he replied, Where's the handle?

Okay.

I laughed and opened it from my side, and he seemed surprised by this. I took his surprise as some sort of joke and laughed. He produced a taco tobacco tin, made a couple of roll ups and gave me one. I told him I'll keep it for later and put it in the glove compartment. He'd lit his roll up, but I noticed I couldn't smell it. I asked him why he was waiting for a bus at 4 30 AM and he said he'd met someone at the Etsom races and gone home with them. He went on to tell me a few other details which were funny, but I won't repeat. He confessed he'd gone been drunk and gone home with a with a person he'd met at the races. Once he'd sobered up he realised we'd been wearing beer goggles. Also, it didn't help that the girl's parents were sleeping in the next room and he confessed he didn't want to be still be there when everyone had woken up in the morning. So he left a note and tried to leave via the front door, which turned out to be lots, so he climbed out the window. I asked what he did for a living, he said he was a farrier. I said that's an old profession. He replied, Well there's many farriers where he came from in Kent. I noticed his suit looked very nineteen sixties style. I asked him how long he'd been a farrier, and which he replied he started alone when he'd left school ten years ago. He previously told me he he left he was twenty five, so he would have been fifteen. Yeah.

Which back then Yeah, suppose he could have been apprentice farrier maybe.

We chatted what seemed to be a long time, but in reality it was only less than ten minutes before we got to Leatherhead station. I dropped him on the London side of the station, but you could see the doors were locked. I told him he may have to wait a few hours before the first train, to which he just smiled. I drove off and looked in the mirror and he'd vanished. I stopped the car and got out to look for him, and it dawned on me that he could wait in the twenty four hour petrol station cafe round the corner. In a matter of seconds he'd vanished. The station doors were locked and there was nowhere for him to go except the car park behind the station from which there was no way out, which there isn't.

Yeah.

Logic was telling me that he must be there, so I searched but no avail. Later that day I told my friend about it, what had happened, he suggested I check my rear camera that's fitted in the back of my in my car. I checked the footage from the time and picked him up to the time I dropped him off and he didn't appear in any of it. It showed me stopping, it showed the car dip as if someone had got in, but neither the front or back camera showed him. The roll up he'd left from the glove compartment had gone as well. I never got to the bottom of it. Was he the ghost that was reliving his last few moments of happiness? Was he a lad escaping an alcohol induced liaison? His big eyes told him he was taking home a princess die, look alike. As the girl wore off. And in the cold light of the morning, he was woke lying next to Princess Anne, look alike. And she needed a shave. I'll guess I never know. Now I'd like to say, Your Majesty, this is what this person's saying, not me.

That's religious.

So someone says, uh, love this story. Death sounds like he didn't know he'd passed. And he that his reply was, I sat next to him, he seemed pretty much flesh and blood, but the conversation was odd. Like talking to someone who had been away for a very long time, yeah, and the vanishing not appearing on either dash cam recording this. Total mystery. He was a nice lad, not cocky or arrogant like many nowadays. I honestly don't know what to make of it. I agree. If he was dead, he certainly didn't realise it.

That's insane. I love that. That's fantastic.

That's a good one. That's brilliant. He actually had a conversation and the door opened and yeah, weird.

I love those ones. I really do. Hopefully we'll get more next time. We do like a bit of haunted road stuff.

If you've got any stories yourself, go on to our website, fill in the form, let us know.

We'd love to hear from them. Anyway, everyone, have a pleasant evening, and thank you very much for joining us on our latest lights on Still Scared. Stay tuned for more exciting updates soon. Good night from Grimm.

Good night from Karen.

I keep the highlight. Every corner with seek the choices that I made. There's a tapping at the window, though the wind is standing still, and a chill runs down my spine like something moving at its will. I tell myself it's nothing, just the creaking of the floor. But every night the silence feels louder than before. You can hide from what's already here. Can't run, can't breathe. Something in the dark remembers me. No matter what I do. That feeling doesn't go late. Still still the heart takes nothing. There's a shadow in the doorway where I swear no shadow should be. Seems to watch me as I pass. Like they're waiting for the moment when my courage doesn't last. I whisper little prayers to keep the nightmares from my bed. Breathing a goosent life. Still scared. You can't hide from what's already here. Can't run, can't breathe. Something in the dark remembers me. No matter what I do. That feeling doesn't go away. Still scared. The hauntings never fade. Maybe it's just trauma, maybe ghosts are made of fear, but every night I swear I feel a presence drawing near. You can say there's nothing there, but tell me if that's true. I stop. You can't hide from what's already here. Don't stop. Don't breathe. Something in the dark won't let me be even away and I scream. The silent sensors every shade lies on Still.