Making Some Effort in a Good Cause
Preparations for a Peak District Mighty Hike that Never Was
In late January or early February Mike suggested that he, Francis and I should form a team to take part in the Peak District Macmillan Mighty Hike - a 13-mile sponsored walk (there was a 26-mile variant for masochists) in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support in the Peak District National Park on the 24th of July.
Feeling we might have a fitness problem Team MDF, as we dubbed ourselves, embarked on a series of training walks on Cannock Chase and around Haughton and Swynnerton.
Most were on dry days, some even in sunshine. It was not always warm sunshine,
though our late April outing in Haughton shortly after pubs had re-opened for
outdoor drinking….
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| The end of a long drought - a glass of lunch outside the Red Lion in Bradley |
… was as warm as walkers could want or tolerate.
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| Spring has definitely reached Staffordshire, Haughton in April |
Donations started to roll in, but in early June the Peak District Park Authorities cancelled mass participation events as ‘the
elongated and ongoing restrictions over foreign travel, [have caused] an
unprecedented number of visitors, putting the land we cover under strain.’
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| Shropshire |
Onto the Long Mynd
The Avengers Assemble
So bright and early (before 9.30, anyway) we were in the Carding Mill Valley car park ready to haul on our boots - once we had eaten breakfast.
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| Mike, Francis and Alison. In this picture I am represented by my boots |
I have so far failed to mention two important people. This was now a DIY walk so we were no longer limited to the original three. We had collected Alison C in All Stretton where she and non-walking partner Morgan were staying in an air-bnb. Anne arrived a few minutes after the photo above accompanied by a large punnet of ‘surplus’ strawberries.
So, full of oatcakes, bacon and strawberries, and after a Team MDC photo in Macmillan shirts…
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| Team MDF. Photo Alison using Francis' camera |
…our enhanced and improved team of 5 set off towards the long, steep path onto the Long Mynd. Francis and Anne led the way – I was in front of them to take the photo but never found myself in that position again.
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| Anne and Francis lead the climb |
The Long Mynd – A Little Scene Setting
Part of the Shropshire Hills Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, the Long Mynd is an upland plateau around 500m in elevation some
11km long and 5km wide. It sits on what Geologists call the ‘Longmyndian Supergroup’ – two guitars, bass, drums and a 6,000m thick slab of late Precambrian rock. Whether the Long Mynd is truly long depends on what you
chose to compare it with, the ‘Mynd’ is derived from a Brythonic word for
mountain (c.f. Welsh ‘mynydd’).
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| We walked from the Carding Mill Valley, across the Long Mynd, then back to All Stretton |
We started on the eastern edge where the Carding Mill Valley is one of a number of steep, narrow valleys incised into the escarpment.
Once you are on the plateau the land descends rather more gently in the general
direction of Wales. You know what to expect from a walk on the Long Mynd,
though the extended vertical axis on the profile produced by Anne’s app (right) does
make it look more alarming than it actually is.
The Ascent
I do not mind a stiff climb at the start of the day, but I am never going to be the first to the top. Engage bottom gear and plod
works for me and I am grateful for the patience of faster walkers. On this occasion,
extra patience was required. While trying to cope with walking poles and camera
I contrived to engage a hitherto unknown setting where the camera insisted on
taking one-second videos rather than photographs. I spent some time trying to
remove this unwanted function instead of walking. Mike kindly waited while I
faffed around.
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| Mike waits patiently - a still from a one-second video |
When I finally got on with it, I realised that the weather forecast had been unduly pessimistic; it was going to be a very fine
day, but at least this climb would be over before it became too warm.
Near the top we encountered two groups from a school in Ludlow on their Duke of Edinburgh Bronze Award expeditions. They were full
of energy but unsure about their navigation as such groups so often are. I must
have passed through an age when I had both energy and navigation skills, but it
was fleeting, at best.
On the Top
The top is a plateau, but not a flateau. The path called Mott’s Road on the map continues to rise, albeit more gently, for a distance yet.
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| Energetic youth on Mott's Road |
At the end we turned left onto a track heading for Pole Bank, at 516m the Long Mynd’s highest point. We passed a watering hole favoured by the resident ponies owned by the Long Mynd Commoners…
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| Wild ponies, Long Mynd |
…and enjoyed the view westwards across the plateau. Pollen evidence suggests that trees here began to be replaced by grassland in the Bronze
Age though the earliest written evidence of the management of common grazing is from the 13th Century.
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| Looking west on the Long Mynd |
We reached the shooting butts where the path meets The Burway, one of two ancient tracks across the Long Mynd, now tarmac-ed but narrow. The leaders of the D
of E Award groups were parked there checking off their charges as they came through.
Crossing the Burway, we turned half right onto a section of the Cross Britain Way, a description if the route, not the state of
the nation. Not particularly well known (not yet, anyway), the walk was created (appropriately
under the circumstances) to raise money for Macmillan Cancer Support. Stretching
550km from Boston on the North Sea to Barmouth on the Welsh coast it includes
a remarkable variety of countryside.
Once out of sight of the car park we paused for coffee.
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| Coffee break - in this picture I am represented by my glasses case |
A Gentle Descent to Bridges
Refreshed we continued along the Cross Britain Way as it began to slowly descend…
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| The Cross Britain Way starts to descend |
…giving views into the gentler valleys on the western side.
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| Valley on the western side of the Long Mynd |
The descent took a while to become persistent, …
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| On the Cross Britain Way |
… but as we dropped off the plateau, we began to encounter more trees and sheep.
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| Leaving the Long Mynd plateau |
And, at the hamlet of Coates, a minor road. Here we re-encountered a D of E Award group still mithering about navigation and seeking advice from a local.
The last kilometre of the descent to Bridges and its eponymous pub was on tarmac, along a shady, and occasionally quite steep lane.
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| A shady lane down to Bridges |
The Bridges, Bridges
The Bridges has recently re-opened under new
management. There are plans afoot but for the moment they have a limited menu
at highish prices. They are already growing their own salad vegetables and Alison,
Anne and I ate fresh crisp leaves, baby broad beans and courgettes, crumbed (real)
Lancashire cheese with a well-made vinaigrette. It stood out among pub salads. Francis
having harumphed at the prices on line, brought a packed lunch but was too
polite to eat it sitting in the pub garden, a pleasant shady spot beside a stream.
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| Alison, me and Anne waiting for lunch in the Bridges Garden Photo by Francis, so for once I am representing myself |
Beside the Darnford Brook and up the Betchcott Hills
Bridges lives up to its name sitting on the confluence of the Darnford Brook and an apparently unnamed stream which join to form the River East
Onny. It is all very small scale, and at the first of a cluster of minor road
junctions we left the Cross Britain Way and joined the Shropshire Way.
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| Onto the Shropshire Way |
The route soon leaves the tarmac to follow the line of the Darnford Brook…
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| Shropshire Way above the Darnford Brook |
…a minor stream crossed by a few bridges of unknown antiquity.
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| The Darnford Brook and old bridge: photo Alison |
The path varies in size, but sticks to the brook, passing the hamlet of Ratlinghope – which the Shropshire Star assures me is pronounced ‘Rachup.’ – on the far side of the stream.
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| Continuing beside the Darnford Brook |
A kilometre or so later the path continued to follow the line of the stream while rising gently along the flank of Ratlinghope Hill.
At first we had ignored the rising path but realised our error when the streamside path petered out. Others had clearly made the same mistake as many boots had climbed the bank to the correct path. As he ascended, I noticed that Francis was
not looking his usual sure-footed self.
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| The gently rising path up Ratlinghope Hill |
We continued to climb gently but steadily with Francis, normally in the lead, taking up the unaccustomed position of back-marker. When
he started to tail off, we called a halt. Francis had missed his lunch and was running on empty, so we sat
beside the path in pleasant sunshine while he filled himself with water and sandwiches.
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| Francis works on his recovery plan. In this photo I am represented by my pack and poles |
With Francis sufficiently revived, we continued the climb to the end of Ratlinghope Hill.
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| Approaching the end of Ratlinghope Hill |
And found our way into a fold known as Golden Valley. Climbing the valley brought us to the Portway – the other ancient track
across the Long Mynd, and the main ridge of the Betchcott Hills. It had been a
long, gentle and almost effortless climb from Bridges at 240m up to 400m.
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| Looking down Golden Valley from the top |
Golden Valley is obviously green, not gold, but on a warm sunny day it is easy to forget why it is so green. Alison’s picture of a lychen
encrusted finger post reminded us we were lucky to have picked such a fine, dry
day.
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| Lichen encrusted Finger post pointing up Golden Valley. Photo; Alison |
Over Betchcott Hill and Other Nameless but Higher Summits
We took a brief break before passing through the gate onto the Portway and turning right toward the summit of Betchcott Hill only 14m above us and 450m distant.
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| A brief rest before going through the gate onto the Portway |
Maybe I was a little naïve, but I believed that as the only named hill, and with a trig point to boot, this would be the highest point of the afternoon. Foolish fellow, had I been carrying a map I could have seen that following the Portway we would descend and then climb to 440m+ twice in the next two kilometres to reach a high point near a small wood called High Park.
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| Up and down on the Portway |
I found the up and down on a wide straight path a little dull and hence arduous, though it was redeemed by views to the north across
flat agricultural land to where The Wrekin lurked in the mist.
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| Looking across the plain to The Wrekin |
Descent to All Stretton, Tea and Cakes
We started to descend….
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| Starting the descent |
….soon reaching a broad green sward; a delight to walk over. In front of us was a sharp drop into the Stretton Valley and beyond that
Caer Caradoc (one of several alleged locations of Caradoc’s last stand against
the invading Romans) and to the left the lower ridge of The Lawley.
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| Across a sward towards Caer Caradoc |
At one point Alison and Francis seemed to be engaged on a socially distanced march towards a precipice.
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| A socially distanced march towards a precipice? Photo Anne |
There was, of course, no precipice - a minor road makes a relatively gentle descent into All Stretton - but Alison had suggested that
for us there was a better route down a narrow valley to our right which would
deliver us to exactly the right spot in All Stretton.
Turning right we crossed the sward and reached what was little more than a crack in the grassland. I looked into it. ‘That’s a vertical
rockface,’ I said to myself ‘We can’t go down there.’
Francis, now fully recovered, stepped forward and started the descent like he was going down his stairs at home. Apparently, it
was not vertical! We all had to follow, some with alacrity, others (me and I
think Anne who had been notably unfazed by anything else the day had thrown at
her) with more trepidation. Walking poles are, of course, sports equipment and
thus entirely different from a walking stick. I find them invaluable in hilly terrain,
providing extra power uphill, and downhill braking (my knees announced their
retirement from that job two decades ago). Here, though, I used them primarily
to maintain my balance - just like two old man’s walking sticks.
For reasons of self-preservation, I took no photos until past the difficult bit and the path, though still rough and narrow, was
no longer precipitous.
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| After the difficult part of the descent |
Once we had reached the bottom it was a simple stroll into All Stretton arriving almost immediately at Alison’s B&B where partner
Morgan had laid on cakes, strawberries and tea, God bless her.
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| An easy walk into All Stretton to finish |
She also took the team photo, Mike, Francis and me in our Macmillan shirts, Alison in her Kilimanjaro shirt (a slightly larger hill she climbed a few years back) and Anne in a University of Sheffield Swimming Club shirt. While we had been walking her son, Ed, had been participating in a cross-channel relay swim as a member of that club. They started early and finished as we did – congratulations to Ed and the rest of the team.
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| Team Photo |
The training walks had paid off and it had been a wonderful day: good company, fine weather, the beauty of the Long Mynd and over £800 raised for Macmillan Cancer
Relief. A big thank you to all those who made donations.
