Region 38A Shropshire
The Clees had been done many years before when we lived near Wolverhampton. They are very dominant hills both in the view westwards from the lowlands of the Midlands and eastwards from what might almost be called 'the Shropshire Alps', around Church Stretton. Recollections of climbing them are vague, they feature more in my memory as part of the view from other better loved hills.
My memories of this hill go back perhaps further than those of any other although I climbed it relatively recently. A much loved book of my childhood was 'Seven White Gates' by Malcolm Saville which is set in this area with the Devil's Seat on Stiperstones featuring prominently in the drama. The climb itself in contrast made no great impression but was done as part of the Shropshire Way between Clun and Bridges youth hostels.
I don't know whether it is still common to use the phrase 'I've been all round the Wrekin' to describe an occasion when one has been lost or taken a silly route but it was certainly one which I used in my childhood long before I realised that it referred to a hill in Shropshire. At the time that we lived in the Midlands and made frequent trips to North Wales we climbed this isolated hill several times including one of my most memorable hill climbs, an ascent by the light of the full moon. A more recent visit found it much spoilt with a land-rover track up to the radio mast on the summit ridge. I rather wished that I had not returned to pollute the memory of what used to be a pleasant grassy hill.
It would be fanciful to liken Church Stretton to Chamonix perhaps and to call these hills the Shropshire Alps yet it does have a certain similarity, lying in a deep valley and through route with lovely hills on either side. The most striking hill, although not the highest, is Caer Caradoc. It was one of the earliest hills that I ever climbed because I came here to stay in my friend Jenny's cottage nearby and this ascent was one of our favourite walks. The other was Ragleth, a lovely grassy ridge of a hill but with too little reascent from the higher summit to make it into the tables. Caer Caradoc is a somewhat more rocky hill and it has a cave just below the summit. This is supposed to be the place where Caractucus made his last stand against the Romans. Jenny used to sing us a song about it.
On the western side of the Church Stretton valley lies the great plateau of the Long Mynd, its eastern flanks riven by deep, attractive and popular valleys. I had walked here many times on visits to Jenny's cottage but never, as far as I could recollect, bothered to continue to the insignificantly higher bump at Pole Bank. It is possible to drive within half a kilometre of the trig point but the Long Mynd was too good to treat with such contempt so we set out from Church Stretton using one of the less popular valleys just south of the road for our ascent. It was a wild day with the wind making it difficult to stand when we emerged on the plateau. Compensation were the dynamically changing views back across the valley to Caer Caradoc and its neighbouring hills catching shafts of fleeting sunshine. The summit was bolder than we expected and opened up the westwards prospect of more hills rolling towards Wales. We struggled along the very broad ridge northwards to Mott's Road by which we descended into the popular Carding Mill Valley. On this stormy December day it was completely deserted with not a single vehicle in the large car park.
The walk along Wenlock Edge was one which I had wanted to do for a long time. As we walked I quoted Houseman: 'On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble, his forest fleece the Wrekin heaves ..... Today the Roman and his trouble are ashes under Uricon'. I'm not sure whether my companion appreciated the literary allusions. The wood certainly is still there. The path has recently been upgraded to bridleway status, a mixed blessing for it was exceedingly muddy and badly churned up by horses. Apart from the mud winter was really the best time to be doing the walk since some glimpses of the view could be obtained through the bare branches of the trees. The edge is well defined for a long way. We only walked a short section at the south-west end and then turned sharply south-east to tackle Callow Hill which lies off the main escarpment. We went straight up the public footpath which takes a brutally direct and slippery route to the collapsing tower at the summit. Two hundred yards away is a trig point at the edge of a field. Trees and undergrowth make this a very ill-defined top. A map was posted up near the tower showing the route of a proposed permissive path taking a gentle zigzag alternative to the right of way. The date for its opening had not yet arrived but we used it gratefully anyway and then followed the bridleway to Hill End Farm and quiet lanes through Westhope to the car.
At the south-west corner of this hill is a tiny area which, according to the map, is crossed by a maze of footpaths but closer acquaintance found very little evidence of them on the ground. Our starting point was constrained by parking problems but we found a spot just on the big bend of the main road. We emerged at The Hollies, although not on any obvious path, and made our way more or less directly, through the heather, to the summit. Corndon hill, quite close but actually in another country, was the most conspicuous hill in the view; one which we had climbed before we ever found it in any tables. We varied our descent slightly by following the ill-defined ridge southwards for a short distance, before swinging west to join the track which led us to the road a hazardous half mile from the car.
We parked near Hopesay church and followed the bridleway south-west until it intersected a footpath which led us into the forest to a big junction of tracks. Here were more paths than our map indicated and we took the most inviting one which ran straight up the ridge. Higher up it veered away left and we had a short distance of 'tree-bashing' before climbing a gate which led us into the open area of the large fort at the top of the hill. A couple of high points on the western banks of the fort vie for supremacy as the true summit, although both are perhaps man-made some very long time ago. The fort slopes down eastwards and we followed the ridge of the outer bank to the bottom where a gate gave access to a good track running round the edge of the wood. Here Hopesay could be seen below but was not easily accessible so we followed the track round into a valley where another big track junction was found. We ignored all the tracks and went out into a field to climb up beside the wood, seeking the right of way. We were rather surprised to find that it was the Shropshire Way which we had actually walked many years before. It led us directly back to Hopesay church at the end of an unexpectedly pleasing circuit.
Not every hill in Dawson's book is worth climbing and View Edge, despite its promising name, is one which probably is not. In fact the name is written on the map to the south of the minor road but the highest point is actually to the north of the road in the corner of Stoke Wood. We decided to make a decent walk of it by parking at Stokesay but the car park marked on the OS map turned out to be for visitors to the castle only. Instead we drove round to the western side of the hill and parked at the end of a track which is in fact the other end of the path from Stokesay. We followed that path round the north edge of the wood hoping to come up along the southern edge of the trees but the area is totally agricultural and barred by high hedges. Moreover it was rapidly getting dark. Eventually I emerged on the minor road, followed it to the footpath and followed that in almost total darkness back to the car. Hence I had encircled but not climbed the hill. Meanwhile Rowland had turned back and gone up through the trees in the dark. Three days later I came back; this time being dropped on the minor road to make my way over several barbed wire fences to the top, which lies just inside the wood with no views whatsoever. Then I made my way down through the trees and back to the previous parking spot.
Region 38B West Gloucestershire and Hereford & Worcester
Offa's Dyke path, which we had walked many years ago, runs right across the top of this hill, cutting straight across the old racecourse but not quite visiting the summit. Usually we do go to the top of any hill if we are in the vicinity but we could not be quite sure that we had done so and in any case this is surely a ridge worth revisiting, its broad open grassy top giving great views and superb easy walking. We went out through the woods on the north of the hill, straight up to the top and back on Offa's Dyke path. The day was a splendid one, bright and sunny, in the middle of December.
The lovely ridge of the Malvern Hills is indeed a ridge and so has insufficient drops along it to provide more than one top in the tables. We had traversed it by various variations on several occasions long before acquiring any tables. The most memorable visit to Worcestershire Beacon was one Christmas when we took my mother up there while my father drove further south to meet us. We had some difficulty in making the rendezvous for snow and ice covered the ridge and of course we had no appropriate alpine gear. In summer I remember it as a glorious gentle grassy stroll but unfortunately I have read that erosion is now a problem.
Offa's Dyke path crosses the eastern flanks of this hill but it does not visit the highest point which is in the middle of a golf course, although also belonging to the National Trust according to the map. It seemed to be quite accepted that walkers should circumnavigate the hill since we met others walking their dogs up there. Hence our only problem was to sneak up the 200m or so from the western escarpment to the top at a moment which avoided confrontation with either golfers or their balls. There was a post in the vicinity of the top but it was probably intended as an aid to golfers rather than a summit marker.
There is a picnic site on the north of this hill and a variety of waymarked trails to choose from. Naturally we selected the one which traversed the pleasant summit ridge where the trees are quite scattered and allow good views to be enjoyed. A locked fire tower marks the highest point
There was good parking at the end of the forest track on the eastern side of the hill and a party of horse-riders were just emerging so we did not waste time driving on to look for the right of way. In fact there are more tracks than the map shows and we were able to use a different one for the return while still emerging at the same place. The whole area gave the impression of having once been an elaborate garden with trees and bushes planted in avenues. We did not need to approach the house, which still seems to be occupied, for a stile on the eastern side gave access to the very overgrown hill fort and the highest point fortunately seemed to be close to this eastern end.
We set out on the right of way from Uphampton but left it to enter the forest where we found markers for a cycle race due to take place the following weekend. We ignored them and took the shortest route on forest tracks to the highest point which is very ill-defined amongst trees. The trig point, which is slightly lower, was inaccessible in a field beyond a hostile fence. To vary the return we followed the flags down through some territory which was not very pleasant on two feet let alone on a bicycle. We were hoping to join the public footpath but found ourselves once again constrained within the forest by awkward fences.
This hill belongs to the National Trust and a good track runs onto it from the south but parking is a problem on this very narrow road. We would have done better to have parked further afield and make a decent walk of it for the quick stroll up the right of way and round the little wood at the summit was scarcely adequate for what is quite a pleasant little hill.
We intended to make a small circuit on this hill, setting out on the waymarked path from the north which has been rerouted round the field edges. The trig point, almost lost in trees, is not at the summit which is quite accessible, reached by a vague path, but not at all well defined. In this case rather than the 'choose your own tussock' of some moorland hills, its a matter of 'choose your own tree'. The continuation of the path, as it plunged down the steep western flank of the hill, soon dissuaded us from our circuit for it apparently disappeared in impenetrable undergrowth. The one we had come up on was pleasant and easy so we soon turned round and retraced our way along it.
On our first ascent of this hill we were thwarted by a traffic diversion and ended up driving to the summit. The trig point is overtopped by a covered reservoir inside a fenced enclosure but on this occasion the gate was open and we climbed onto the top of the bank. A few years later we were again passing through the Forest of Dean and decided to assuage our consciences by actually walking up the hill. There are far more tracks than the map suggests and it was more luck than skilful navigation which brought us out of the trees past an ongoing football match to exactly the right place. The new padlock on the gate did not bother us unduly since we had already claimed the hill!
This hill is a long ridge with a bridleway running the length of it. We came onto it from Durlow Common and walked up through trees to the trig point in a field. The unmarked summit lies beyond where the trees are more open and the ridge quite pleasant with rolling rural views. We rather unenterprisingly returned the same way.
Hedgon Hill is a newcomer to the tables, replacing Grendon Green which was listed in the book and is the top of an enormous expanse of rolling agricultural land with a trig point which lies very close to the A44. There was no parking, only a passing place on the minor road, so we went across the field in turns to touch the trig point hidden in the opposite hedge. Fortunately there was nobody about for any observer would certainly have regarded our behaviour with suspicion, not realising that it was simply a sympton of the incurable malady 'Marilyn madness'.
Later it was discovered that a slightly higher point, Hegdon Hill, lies a little further south. This is not quite so crazy a top as Grendon Green. We resisted the temptation to drive to the summit, parked in Pencombe and approached on the bridleway through Durstone Farm. Although it was raining the views were pleasing across a very rural landscape to the distant line of the Malvern hills eastwards and westwards towards Wales. The trig point occupies an undistinguished position in the corner of a field a few yards from the minor road which traverses the hill, which we followed back down to the village.
Aconbury Hill is a new addition to the list. The map shows it covered in trees with no rights of way through them so it was a relief to find a welcoming kissing gate and a good track leading into the wood. In fact an assortment of alluring paths thread the area and we wandered round the eastern escarpment before cutting back up to the trig point which lies within the walls of the hill fort. From here we went north, hoping for a view, and hence joined a pleasant path which encircled the walls of the fort and led us eventually back to the kissing gate and the car, which was parked at the north end of the village of Kingsthorne.
No rights of way cross this hill but the open area at the top is a common which is criss-crossed by delightful grassy tracks. We came up on the footpath from the west, losing it before White Rocks by following blue posts instead of yellow arrows. These turned out to be markers for a motorcycle scramble but we were reluctant to forgo height gained and had to negotiate barbed wire to gain the open hill. Here were horse-riders, walkers and model plane operators, all enjoying the brilliant sunshine of a rapidly improving afternoon and the magnificent panorama from this hill at the westernmost fringe of England. Although we had originally planned a long circuit which would have left the summit northwards the sun was already low in the sky and the south ridge so beguiling that we went that way, with a glorious vista ahead, and rejoined the footpath which we had carelessly lost on the way up.
Black Mountain lies right on the border of England and Wales. It was the summit on which, in 1982, I completed my collection of the 2000 foot mountains of England and Wales from George Bridge's tables. For a description of a more recent and more hair raising ascent see day 7 of my walk over the Welsh 2000ers.
In early 1997 two extra hills were promoted to Marilyn status. Ancient railway cuttings on the relevant cols were deemed to increase the drop around the hills to the required 150m. Shortly afterwards the cutting between Abberley Hill and Titterstone Clee Hill, now on a disused railway, was filled in, so it seems likely that the hill may revert to subMarilyn status on the next revision of the list. Of course these fluctuations have no effect whatsoever on the quality of the walking and simply highlight the crazy nature of Marilyn-bagging. Ah well, we have to admit that had it not featured in the Marilyn list we would most likely never have climbed it! It's a pleasant enough hill though, in fact quite a fine well defined ridge, although rather spoilt by being so thickly wooded that neither its ridgy nature nor any views can be properly appreciated. We walked the whole ridge from Abberley village and returned along the quiet lane.
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