Callow Hollow

The Long Mynd’s eastern valleys are several and varied – some are valleys, some (most) are batches. There’s a dale and a gutter too – and a couple of hollows. If we count the side valleys off those main valleys… Perhaps not. I’ve been exploring the Mynd for many years, but until very recently, I had not quite digested one rather odd fact born out by the 1:25,000 map: many (perhaps most) of those side valleys have names – except for Ashes Hollow, whose side valleys are nameless. (I’m sure they’re not, but there are no names on the map).

Ashes Hollow runs down to Little Stretton. Next, joining Ashes at its foot, is Small Batch (aptly named), then there’s Callow Hollow. Ashes Hollow is perhaps the next-best known after Cardingmill (Valley), not least due to the camp site occupying its last few yards. Callow is one of the least known, despite being of comparable scenic value, largely because, until relatively recently, there was no easy access to its foot. We met no-one else on foot throughout the walk (just one cyclist, and a farmer in his pickup). And, like so many of these valleys (batches, hollows etc….), once we’re just a few yards in, there’s nothing man-made in sight, until we reach the plateau and the road.

The Pike

Nothing fishy about this walk… The Pike is a rocky ridge which provides a quick route up to the Long Mynd plateau, for this (relatively) high level route. We look back to Badbury Ring, the hill fort on the edge of the golf course, before heading west to pick up the Portway and the path to Pole Bank, highest point of the Mynd. We can stay on the plateau until the last minutes of this walk, when the path descends steeply to the edge of the woods fringing Church Stretton. Now it’s just a short walk back to the car, descending the track back into Cardingmill Valley. It’s only six miles in total, but we spent most of the afternoon on it – it was too good to hurry, much better to stop and look around, and enjoy the day.

Two summits

A walk on Brown Clee – up to Abdon Burf, the county’s highest point, then across the high ground (squelchy in places) to the southern top, Clee Burf. It’s a fine breezy afternoon, though there are one or two showers about. We caught one briefly – it had blown over before the rain began to look serious. There were one or two more further west, creating some dramatic skies.

On the road again

At times, it feels as though the storms have been continuous – but there have been some fine days between the deluges. This afternoon’s weather was too good for staying indoors, but if the ground’s not actually under water, it’s still too wet underfoot. So – another walk around quiet lanes, out past the farm at Harnage Grange, crossing Bullhill Brook beside the ford, then up the hill to Kenley and along the ridge. The ford was almost an impasse – the footbridge was fine, but below it, the stream was straying across the road. Not a problem – no depth – feet stayed dry. There used to be some extensive views to the west from the lane along the ridge north of Kenley – sadly, they are now only really visible from the other side of the high hedge that has been planted here. Does it need to be 8′ high?

My Sunday road walk earlier in the month was quiet – how would a weekday compare? I think we passed ten moving vehicles along the five miles, no dog walkers, no joggers, no cyclists, one Chinook…

Quiet lanes

A bright sunny afternoon – too good to stay at home, but the ground would be sodden after yesterday’s rain (this is becoming repetitive…). Would a walk entirely on surfaced ways be acceptable? There are some quiet lanes in the country west of the Wenlock Edge – let’s try it.

I’m not sure I’d want to make a habit of walking six miles on tarmac – but it was quiet. Perhaps no more than a dozen motor vehicles, half a dozen bicycles, a couple of joggers and a distant dog-walker – not too bad. Nevertheless, it nearly wasn’t the circular walk I’d intended. An impromptu ford blocked my way just beyond (appropriately) Plaish. It was deep – it would have filled my boots. Some minor gymnastics (do I mean acrobatics?) got me over the narrowest bit, but the only way forward then was along the edge of a field for a very short distance, before regaining the road. With very muddy boots.

Mogg Forest

Rhymes with “sogg”… An interesting and pleasant route for a mild and bright afternoon – but unbelievably wet underfoot. The path rises gently through the forest, though in places, it’s “forward two, slide back one”. On the crest of the ridge, the path switches to the field. There are ancient earthworks just inside Mogg Forest – impressive-looking banks and ditches (named “The Ditches” on the OS map). The footpath should now run across the field (and clearly does so in summer, if the Google satellite view is reliable), but there was no sign of it, a new crop was coming up and the earth looked very sticky. With no waymarkers to point me in the right direction, I followed the wide grassy margin of the field beside the forest instead. Foot- and horse hoof-prints told me I wasn’t the first. 

The path (waymarked again) descends to the road beside Cottage Pool, a little way up the valley from Brockton. I had intended to walk along what should have been a quiet lane to Easthope, but I think it must have been school closing time, so I took to the field path towards Lutwyche Hall (it would be slightly shorter too). Big mistake: it wasn’t too bad past the attractive little pool, but the field thence to the Hall farm was the most waterlogged part of the walk. The cows had been on it, leaving deep water-filled hoof holes in the squelchy grass. There’s a good view of the hall from the field, but navigating the morass took all my attention – by the time I was out of it, the hall was behind trees and hedges. No photos…

Note to self – a good walk for a dry summer…

Clee Burf from Cockshutford

An attempt to avoid the worst of the mud, on an afternoon when it was good to be out on the hills. This one is on lanes with a decent surface at lower levels – perhaps the upper reaches might not be too waterlogged. The rough lane from Cockshutford serves a few houses high on the hillside – beyond, it’s a bit soft for 100 yards under the trees, then we’re out on the hillside, and it’s a gentle stroll on the summit ridge. Admittedly, there are one or two soggy spots which require careful circumnavigation… The cloud has cleared for a while, and a shaft of bright sunshine catches an unexpected red spot amongst the heather. The poppy wreaths have been well tied down, on the memorial to the “twenty three Allied and German airmen who died in flying accidents on the Brown Clee hills, 1939 – 1945”.

The gate just beyond the radio mast on Clee Burf provides a view to the south-east, where the Malverns catch the eye and the Cotswolds provide a grey horizon. In the opposite direction, as we begin our descent down the road serving the mast (grassy ancient tarmac), a pale tower catches the light. It’s the cement works at Penyffordd – 55 miles distant.