Outdoor Odysseys

A return to the Shropshire Hills: Daisy-chaining tops near Church Stretton

It had been nearly three years since my previous visit to Shropshire, and even an ongoing pandemic failed to keep me away from these rolling hills. All it took was the prospect of a gloriously sunny Saturday for me to return to the area, planning to explore places that I had last walked in November 2010. That previous afternoon amble, curtailed by a later arrival and the waning daylight, had left the perfect excuse for another visit: unfinished business.

On arrival, the village of Church Stretton was quiet in itself. The B4371 that I followed in the direction of Much Wenlock was no busier, though a collection of parked cars accompanied a trail head. Still, the way up to Gaer Head, my first ascent of the day, hardly was crowded. Vistas of sunlit countryside, dappled with cloud shadows, opened out around me as I gained height. While the ascent route took me off the public right of way, this was access land, so it mattered less where you trod.

The whole area around Hope Bowdler Hill was gloriously unpeopled, a not insignificant mercy during a pandemic when there was a wait to get vaccines developed. Views of other tops were there to be savoured as I pottered about the place, for my route was non-linear. That is what visiting various summits does to such a thing. When they are at hand, it seems rude not to do just that, particularly on a morning of glorious sunshine.

Willstone Hill was another of those calling points before height had to be lost on the way towards Caer Caradoc Hill. Such a development always disappoints me when going uphill takes so much effort. That there is another ascent afterwards makes the loss more memorable. Shropshire’s hills may be low in stature, yet there are plenty of steep ascents and descents to be found. Still, the regaining of height allowed to look back on where I had been, providing some consolation for the ups and downs.

It still felt as if the world was elsewhere while I was trampling Caer Caradoc Hill and its satellite summit, Little Caradoc. This was a repeat visitation after nearly ten years. Then, I had not got to Hope Bowdler Hill and its neighbours, let alone The Lawley, which lay ahead of me. Getting that far would need a steep descent to Comley followed by yet another steep ascent along a narrow ridge.

After having the previous hills more or less to myself, albeit with occasional encounters with others, the busyness of The Lawley surprised me. It was attracting groups of hikers, a challenging prospect during a pandemic, and especially so when there is not so much space for everyone. Quite why so many were traipsing around there was something of a mystery to me. Was it that it was far away from a built-up area? Was it the time of day because some stragglers may have started late? These are unanswered questions, so it was fortunate that I got some respite from the passage of others as I walked the whole ridge before turning southwest along its western flank.

Again, The Lawley is access land, like so much around there. The ridge walk had been along a less formal trail, so the initial ascent concentrated the mind, while the descent was not so taxing. The way back was on a right of way that led towards Comley again. After there, I more or less lost most of the others who had been around those parts.

By then, I was well on the return to Church Stretton and started to follow another trail that I had followed years before. The skies again broke overhead to allow the sun to work its usual magic on the surrounding landscape. Any regret at its hiding while I was around The Lawley needed to be put behind me. Some others were going the way too, and someone’s not hearing my reply to them caused them to take umbrage at me for it. Thankfully, that soon passed, and I continued on my way as before.

If I had thought that I had chosen an easier way back to Church Stretton, there was one more surprise awaiting me. It should not have been the case because I had crossed the steep, eroded ground before; the passage of time had done the same kine work to my memory. Before that, I was being surprised at how far I needed to go, often over overgrown ground. The path was not so clear either, which needed some added attention regarding navigation.

Then, there was that descent over what felt like rotting ground. With weary legs, that took a combination of patience and care. Once the challenge was overcome, it then was a matter of crossing a footbridge. Friendlier gradients were my lot thereafter; even the foot of Helmeth Hill did not intrude too much. A watercourse was shadowed and fields crossed to reach a lane from there. Church Stretton was now at hand, so patient progress on those well-used legs was the order of the moment. Fortuitously, there was an opportunity for a refreshment stop before starting on my train journey back home.

Though the hike happened more than four years ago, this account has been one of the easier ones to write. Whether it was about somewhere less frequented, or there was another reason, it proved to be more memorable in a good way. The area may be compact, yet there is a lot here. When you get the sunshine that I was gifted, all one can do is marvel at what is around them, no matter what else is happening in the world.

Travel Arrangements

Return train journey between Macclesfield and Church Stretton. On the way back, there was a change at Stockport. It may have been the same on the outbound journey, but that is not as memorable as how busy the train became south of Crewe. Thankfully, things were quieter on the return leg, which made for a far more relaxing journey.