Another fine afternoon, ideal for this very pleasant wander down the right (western) bank of the Severn, as far as the striking red sandstone cliff at Quatford. From here, a fairly direct route leads to Eardington village – and a return to Bridgnorth via the intriguingly-named “Potseething Spring”.

“This is Witchend, isn’t it?”

My wife knew of the Long Mynd, and the eastern valleys or “batches”, as they are known locally, long before we first came to Shropshire. As a child, she had read and enjoyed Malcolm Saville’s “Lone Pine” stories. The precise locations used in the stories are mostly fictional, though Priors Holt, at the mouth of Nut Batch, is widely reckoned to be the model for Witchend. The gliders we would see on this walk come into at least one of the stories, similarly the rocky tors of Stiperstones, and its mines. But red kites – five were wheeling over Priors Holt Hill at the start of our walk – would have been a very rare sight in Shropshire when the books were written – there were then just a handful struggling on in mid-Wales.

The walk up the forestry road provides a very easy ascent to the Long Mynd plateau, joining the ancient Portway south of the gliding field. A much more modern path – the Starboard Way (!) avoids the gliders and their cables, and leads fairly directly to the top of Minton Batch, for a very pleasant descent. The path across the fields, back to Witchend, would have been slightly easier to follow had I not left the map at home…

The Malcolm Saville Society

Not really a walk – just a wander (making the most of the first dry afternoon for a little while) beside the pools to the east of the main road at Dudmaston, Shropshire. Apart from the traffic noise, at the western end of Brim Pool, it’s a quiet spot. Quiet, that is, in the sense of few other people around. The woodpecker wasn’t quiet, hammering away at the trees, nor were the ducks and coots in the pools, and the smaller birds – great tits, chiff chaffs et al. – in the trees. And it didn’t rain – until we were nearly home in the car.

Red kites, that is. We lost count – could have been eight or nine – or fewer, moving around a lot… We counted three in the air simultaneously at one point. Not that it was a particularly windy day – there was a cool breeze, but the sunshine was warm and the air was clear – a good day to be out on Shropshire’s Stiperstones.

We’d originally thought of walking much further west – but the forecast promised thickening cloud from that direction. That promise was fulfilled in the last half-hour or so of this very pleasant stroll. Minutes earlier, we’d eaten our lunch in sunshine. Now, as we walked back along the summit ridge, the feel of the day had changed completely.

A red grouse shouted “go back, go back, go back” – yes, we’d better hurry, it’s not good to be up by the Devil’s Chair when the cloud comes down.

A pleasant wander on a cold, clear and sunny afternoon, in the country between Broseley, Bridgnorth and Much Wenlock.

An amazingly mild and sunny afternoon – at home… The car said it was 16°C; fifteen miles away, on Hope Bowdler hill, the clouds were gathering, and the wind was getting up. It certainly didn’t feel like 16°, not with the wind chill on the tops – but the light was good, the air clear and the views extensive. Jodrell Bank, just over 50 miles away, gleamed on the northern horizon – the first time I’ve seen it from Shropshire’s hills

Homer and Wigwig lie to the north-west of the Wenlock Edge, near Much Wenlock. I visited the former (there’s nothing there, apart from houses) and viewed the latter (a large farm) on this walk from the NT car park in Much Wenlock. Shame the weather wasn’t a bit brighter – no sunshine. just unremitting grey skies. At least it’s not as cold as it was last week.

The route might have been slightly different if I’d remembered to take the map…

I don’t think the temperature ever rose above 1ºC, but it was a great afternoon for a wander on these south-east facing slopes of the Wenlock Edge. With no wind, the sun felt warm, but the air was starting to feel really cold by the time we dropped back down the lane to Aston Munslow.