B2B Days 65-66: Experiencing Arts, Crafts, and Victorian Life in Ironbridge

Ironbridge Gorge is known as the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution (for good and ill!), and is home to at least nine museums celebrating the technological and artistic innovations of the 18th and 19th centuries that have made this area famous. Rather than rushing around trying to see everything in the Gorge, for our two "rest days" from the walk we decided to concentrate on just three museums because we like arts & crafts and because the accommodation we found was in easy walking distance to all of them: the Jackfield Tile Museum, The Coalport China Museum, and the Blists Hill Victorian Town.

Our first day's objective was the Jackfield Tile Museum. We woke at 4:00 a.m. because the skylight was slightly open and the birds were singing loudly. We also had a heavy & consequently hot duvet (bane of all good sleep for us) which ended up uncomfortably wedged between us. I managed to get more sleep, and Ken said not to worry about the morning, we were going to have a good lie-in. So we did.

We arrived at the tile museum around 11:30 a.m. and ordered a ham & cheese panini and a ham & cheese toastie for our brunch at the cafe next to the museum entrance. There was only one young woman at the cafe doing everything. When our sandwiches arrived, they were tomato and cheese with no ham. When we asked about it, she said, "Oh, we don't have any ham." It was a bit odd that she didn't mention it at the time of our order, but the sandwiches were good anyway so it wasn't a big deal.

After receiving our tickets from a woman who was fun to talk with, we entered the tile museum. It was extremely well laid-out and presented. It began with an introduction to the two main tile companies that had factories in Jackfield: Craven Dunnill, in whose buildings the museum resided, and the Maw family, members of whom in the mid-19th century had rented Benthall Hall that we had toured yesterday.

We went upstairs to look at the Craven Dunnill board room and offices as they would have looked in the 1930s, and then into the show room, where samples of tiles and products were displayed. The next room featured the different artistic styles that were used, such as Gothic revival, arts & crafts, and art deco. After that were a series of rooms displaying the various uses of tiles in situ, from a replica London underground station to a 1930s living room. One of the main points about the production of tiles and why they became very popular in the 19th century was "sanitation"—because the tiles were glazed, it meant that it was easier to keep hospitals, bathrooms, and public places clean. There were also several tile pictures that had been saved from old children's hospitals, including one of Princess Elizabeth as a little girl outside of her play house.

A long room displayed the various techniques that were used for glazing the tiles, explaining the terms we had been seeing throughout the museum such as "slip" and "encaustic." The final room housed the personal collection of tiles amassed by John Scott, who bequeathed his collection to the museum. It was a fascinating collection, and it was enjoyable to read Scott's comments about the pieces that he had obtained that were like "old friends" to him. 

The tour then led outside, where we could see children in a downstairs studio painting their own tiles, and then adult workers who were currently producing tiles, since Craven Dunnill, after moving operations to Bridgnorth in the last century, had moved back to the factory in 2000. It was cool to see a local industry thriving and to get a brief look at the manufacturing techniques profiled in the museum in action.

We returned to our Airbnb and then had dinner at the Black Swan, a lively "local" in Jackfield. We sat at a small table for two, and the cellar trap door was right behind my chair. Various staff would warn me not to move backwards as they went up and down the cellar stairs. Ken enjoyed a steak and chips, which were excellent. On returning to our Airbnb, we took the duvet out of the cover, which helped resolve the issue of us being too hot in the night. We slept much better. 

 

For the second day of our time in Ironbridge Gorge, we planned to go to Blists Hill, a living-history Victorian town museum and, if we could squeeze it in at the end of the day, we wanted to see the Coalport China Museum.

Both attractions was within handy walking distance from our place in Jackfield, so after crossing a footbridge over the Sever river and walking along a hiking/biking path (the Silken Way), we arrived at Blists Hill around 10:15 a.m. (it opened at 10:00 a.m.). We did not realize there would be such a long queue to get in, though in hindsight we should have known that since it was the "half-term" school holiday, Blist's Hill would be a popular family destination. We finally got in around 11:00 a.m. and went to the refreshments cafe for brunch. Ken had a ham & cheese panini (one that actually had ham in it) and I had a toasted tea cake and a slice of Victorian tea loaf with rum butter. We both really liked the tea loaf—it was full of fruit and had a nice orangey flavour. 

Blists Hill is a recreation of a Victorian town ca. 1900, with people dressed in late-Victorian outfits in all of the shops. We went into the bank and changed a £5 note for "old" money to spend in the town. We visited the general store,  apothecary, photographer's, and haberdasher's. We bought wine gums at the sweet shop. The fish and chips smelled amazing, but the queue was too long and we had just eaten. The forge was among the most interesting places to visit. There were two men there who were actual iron smiths, and they explained the process and the experience of the tremendous heat. We watched a stationary steam engine operating, that was crushing rocks to use as fill. The bakery smelled amazing, and I had to buy a fruit cob (it cost tuppence). We went into the pub which had quite a smoky fireplace, and joined in the sing-along. We particularly liked the printer's shop. A man was using a small press that was operated by foot pedal, printing paper bags for use elsewhere in the village. At 2:30 p.m. we attended Mrs. Ada Clack's cooking demonstration. She made stroganoff and a rhubarb fool. It was a fun comedic-type show with a farmer "Henery" working with her. 

After that we bought more sweets from the sweet shop, and then left to go to the Coalport China Museum, which was located back down the hill near the footbridge. We did make it in time (around 3:45 p.m.) to look at most everything before they closed. The patterns and artwork were amazing. It was helpful to read an explanation of the complex decorating, glazing, and multiple firing processes for making fine china. It was then especially helpful to see how the kilns worked, and then actually to walk inside a kiln and see the saggars in which the china was placed stacked inside the kiln, ready for firing. The tour ended with a winding tour past multiple cases with example after example of simply exquisite china pieces. We took far too many pictures!

We left the museum two minutes before it closed, and after a brief rest, walked directly to the Woodbridge Inn, part of the Brunning & Price chain, for dinner. They had a menu that sounded potentially "gastro"—or what Ken and I call "foofy"—but we had looked up the words before we arrived to see what they meant, so we were prepared. I ordered the sweetcorn maakouda fritters, muhammara, herbed couscous, and salad with tahini yogurt dressing. Ken ordered a steak burger with beer onions, grilled pancetta, Monterey Jack, and spiced tomato mayonnaise, accompanied by chips. Everything was outstandingly delicious, especially my meal. The atmosphere in the pub, a rambling place with multiple dining areas as well as multiple cozy "snugs" was fabulous. Ken ended up talking with a family at the next table, some of whom were currently living in Canada but were revisiting their family roots in the area.

It was good to walk back to our Airbnb having visited two museums and having enjoyed a lovely meal at the end of it; a nice way to end our rest days in the Ironbridge Gorge.

 

 

B2B Day 64 From Much Wenlock to Ironbridge

For an OS map of today's walk (7.30 miles; 11.75 km; 637 ft total ascent), click here.

Today we walked to Benthall Hall, a National Trust property, before dropping down to Ironbridge Gorge, "Valley of Invention," where significant sites related to the Industrial Revolution are located.

The Fox Inn provided us with a solid breakfast—scrambled eggs and sausage for Ken, and an egg and bacon brioche for me. We headed out shortly after 10:00 a.m., after Olivia kindly filled Ken's water bottle with ice and water. 

We loved looking at the buildings and streets of Much Wenlock. It is a pretty town, and we would have enjoyed more time there. We went into the church but didn't stay long as we didn't want to interrupt the prayer time that they were having.

We stepped outside the church and had the first of many times of seeing that it was raining and putting on our coats and/or pack covers. We headed out down a path from a car park that was on the Shropshire Way, but it didn't feel right to Ken when we got to a place near a recreation field. Ken asked some walkers with a dog, and they directed us back to the car park and along a different section of the trail.

We passed a father and teenage daughter with heavy camping packs. He was clearly teaching her outdoors skills, including orienteering. They took a different path from ours.

We passed gorgeous Downs Mill, a lovely home which had an amazing garden. After some road walking in the rain and a stiff uphill into Wyke, we saw the father and daughter again. Ken said that he wished he could get a lesson in using a compass to orienteer with the map, and the man actually offered to teach Ken. Unfortunately we had to keep going, but we had a nice chat with him before we went on our way. He also gave us some route advice, and we've come to value such advice from "locals" very much! We walked through a farm called the Vineyards, where they were in the process of moving sheep. We took off our raincoats because we were getting hot, only to put them on again five minutes later when a stiff but mercifully brief shower hit. 

We entered the woods to take a path to Benthall Hall, a smallish but historically significant stately home. We came to a junction that had a sign saying the permissive path that we were going to take was closed because of a land slip. Ken wanted to investigate to make certain that the portion of path that led to Benthall was part of the closure. It turns out that this part of the path was not closed, and we were happy to be able to walk to Benthall Hall with no difficult detours.

When we got to the drive leading to the Hall, we met a volunteer who (literally) sang out, "Where is it that you want to go?" and Ken sang back, "We're talking to you because we don't know!" Ken apologized for singing in a slightly different key, but the man said to think nothing of it. He was very helpful and oriented us to the site.

We first went to the car park to get some lunch from the outdoor food kiosk there. The car park was incredibly full because it was a bank holiday Monday. We opted to share a sausage roll, and the woman at the kiosk heated it for us. We sat at a picnic bench next to the kiosk to eat our food. I was about to eat the last piece of sausage roll, when two women with two dogs entered the nearby gate. One dog was on a lead, and the other wasn't. The "free" dog darted madly up to our table, took a quick sniff, and before Ken could ward it off, it grabbed the piece of sausage roll and ate it! The woman was apologetic and offered to buy us another one, but we said we were almost done and it didn't matter. They walked a bit further, the woman periodically shouting "Monty! Monty!" in a vain attempt to control the dog. It ran back to our table to sniff the paper plate that the sausage roll had been on, and Ken handed the plate to the woman so that the dog could follow it. When I went to the kiosk to ask about where to recycle/compost, the woman there asked what had happened with the dog. When I told her, she said that those two women came there often, and that she didn't visually recognize them, but she recognized the woman's voice shouting "Monty!" She said she would have a word with the volunteers about making sure the dog was on a lead, because there had been other incidents. 

We moved on to see the front of the building and then entered. In most rooms there were volunteers who would give you information about the rooms. The man in the first room was friendly and fun to talk with. There was a woman who asked the volunteer if she could sit in a chair called "the abbot's chair." The volunteer implied that it wasn't typical, but he gave her permission. Just as she lowered herself into the chair, another visitor went "beep beep beep—security alarm!" and we all laughed. She said she felt quite regal in the chair. 

Benthall Hall was an enjoyable house to tour. We liked several rooms, including a beautiful paneled room and a library upstairs which had beautiful examples of china made in Ironbridge Gorge. Historically, it was the setting for a skirmish during the English Civil War and also had 19th century tenants important in the local tile-making industry (the latter of which we would find out about the next day).

We sat for awhile in the sunshine in the garden, then left around 3:00 p.m. The weather changed and got cooler, so the coats went on again. We retraced our steps to the wood, where the path down to Ironbridge Gorge originated. The first part of the path was nice, and the rest of it would have been nice if it had been dry. But it was downhill and incredibly slippery with mud. We picked our way down slowly, the path feeling miles longer than it really was. We got to the Iron Bridge around 5:00 p.m., walked to the crest of the bridge, and then walked on a convenient disused railway path, to Jackfield, about a half-hour's walk away. The effort of managing not to slide down that muddy path took a toll on both of our feet, particularly Ken's. We got to the Half-Moon pub which was very near our Airbnb, but couldn't find our path to the B&B from there. We had a few instances of not finding the place [thanks to inaccuracies of Google maps, which is not always to be trusted!—Ken], and then we finally did. It was a nice room, though we felt that the host was unsettled by our muddy boots, which we left at the entry way.

I had made a 7:30 p.m. reservation at the Half-Moon pub, which was five minutes away, so we went to dinner. I had nachos with a lovely fresh salsa, and Ken had chicken Rogan Josh, the naan bread that came with it being a highlight for him. There was an eclectic mix of music that we enjoyed, from John Denver to Dire Straits. We then came back to the Airbnb for some much needed rest.

 

 

B2B Day 63 On Wenlock Edge

For an OS map of today's walk (9.78 miles; 15.74 km; 697 ft total ascent), click here.

We set off for Much Wenlock this morning after a night's sleep on the best bed of the trip so far. It was an extremely comfortable firm mattress. Less comfortable was Ken's discovery that he couldn't log in to our blog. Nevertheless, we enjoyed our breakfast of hot rolls with butter and jam, cereal, and vanilla yoghurt. We packed everything including the lunch that our hosts kindly made for us—buns, crisps, and oranges. We decided not to take the tomatoes as they were heavy and we would have no way of slicing them. We also left behind the Elizabeth Gaskell book I had picked up, the small map Ken had bought, and our Lurpack butter that we bought in Church Stretton to go with our toast. We said goodbye to Nicola (Beccy's mum) and the dog, and set off at 9:55 a.m. 

 

The trail was a bit damp because it had rained, but it was really nice at first. We went slowly upwards and then leveled off as the forest on our right gradually disappeared. As we were walking alongside a field, I commented that there was a high and extensive pile of manure that looked similar to the heap in John Constable's painting "Stour Valley and Dedham Church." There was a lot of straw in the pile, though, and I said, "It could be just straw." Then we drew alongside it, and Ken said, "It's definitely not just straw."

We approached Wilderhope Manor, which is owned by the National Trust but run as a YHA hostel—a hostel now only bookable by large groups, which seems to go against what the YHA used to stand for. Today it was booked for Adam and Robyn's wedding, a sign declared. 

 

Sheep showdown!

As we entered the estate, we passed fields of ewes and lambs, then went over a cattle grid and into another section which had rams, which we don't often see. Rams are physically much larger than the ewes. Ken called them "the bad boys of Wilderhope," though some seemed quite peaceful.

A ram in repose

As we came up to the manor, we saw the caterers' tent where some of the men were splitting kindling for the BBQ. There were a few people on the front terrace. A large coach backed into the narrow driveway, and we marveled that no tree branches were felled in the process! We walked around the back of the Manor and sat on the far end of the terrace, enjoying our ham and pea-shoot sandwiches and the crisps that Beccy and Nicola had sent with us. I thought the sandwiches were particularly delicious. I admit I ate more of the crisps than Ken did. He is often not hungry when walking, and I am always hungry when walking!

 

Wilderhope Manor decked out for a wedding

 

As we were on the path going away from Wilderhope Manor, we passed a couple and Ken said, "Let me guess—you're going to a wedding!" and the man replied, "Yes—it's not often you see a man in a suit and walking boots, is it?"

We arrived at Pilgrim's Cottage to find a Range Rover parked right in front of the gate that opened onto the public bridleway. One could open the gate enough to squeeze through, but a horse and rider definitely would not have been able to use the bridleway. We soon discovered that the path was perhaps blocked for good reason. It adjoined a cow pasture, and large sections of the path were submerged in a slick and slimy mixture of mud, cow manure, and water. We picked our way through a half-mile of pathway that felt like five miles. At one point, Ken was walking on grass alongside a barbed wire fence and balancing by hanging onto the fence between the barbs. We also performed some acrobatics in hanging onto a gate, opening it, and manouvering ourselves to the other side. The beautiful grassy path to Lutwyche Hall that Ken had seen in his 25-year-old guide to the Shropshire Hills must no longer exist. We didn't see the Hall at all from our path, and instead came to Lutwyche Farm. The faded footpath sign at the farm pointed to a route submerged in a foot of water surrounded by more cow muck. We elected to continue up the driveway.

The footpath we didn't take

The sign that says "Footpath" with an arrow

After a brief rest near a stone wall, we heard thunder in the distance. We went down to a disused railway path and enjoyed the solid surface and the occasional views to the west for a mile or two. It continued to be good though it got darker and darker and stormier and stormier, until we reached a gated tunnel that was extremely dark and had no path on the other side. At that point it started to rain, as the thunderstorm had finally caught up with us. We didn't go into the tunnel. We back-tracked a bit and took a steep path down to a road, where we put on our coats and pack covers as the rain intensified. We quickly reached a National Trust car park at Presthope. At the car park, we had a choice of paths, and we took the one that wasn't the Shropshire Way. It seemed to wander through the forest up and down rather than be more direct. We then came to a junction of two paths, and one path had only a National Trust waymark (which we thought would lead us back to the carpark), so we took the other path. It seemed to branch into a dead-end or go down to the quarry, so we back-tracked to the other path. 

The path alongside the quarry seemed endless. There was no place to sit down and rest, and everything was damp from the recent showers. I saw three snails, but not much else of interest. There was a sign pointing to the "Major's Leap," which has an interesting story attached to it. Then much, much later we came to another sign that pointed to the "Major's Leap," and I had the nightmare feeling that we had been going in circles because it felt as though the 2.5 miles we were walking had stretched or telescoped into 5 miles. But we had made progress alongside the quarry, so I knew we hadn't really been circling.

We knew we were reaching civilization when we began meeting people on the path who were walking their dogs. Dog-walkers generally signify that a village or town is nearby. We reached paved roads as it again began to rain heavily, and went down a street only to find it was not a through street. We backtracked and went down to the main part of Much Wenlock. We arrived at the Fox Inn around 4:25 p.m.

Our host Olivia greeted us and made us feel at home despite the horribly muddy appearance of our boots. She took us up to our room. After baths to remove the mud, I washed out a few of our clothes and hoped they would be dry by the next day (they mostly were), and Ken kindly took on the task of cleaning our boots carefully to remove the worst of the mud. We used a couple of plastic bags that I had picked up to rest the boots on, to avoid getting mud on the carpet. 

We went down to dinner at 6:30 p.m. I ordered the beef lasagne, and Ken had the "Spicy Fox," a cajun chicken burger. The food was good, but there was so much to eat, we were very full. We had a pint of lemonade each, and it was excellent. We came up afterwards and watched Antiques Roadshow. It was good to fall asleep feeling warm, clean, and dry, with hopes of a better walking day tomorrow to Jackfield in the Ironbridge Gorge. 

B2B Day 62 Walking to Wenlock Edge

For an OS map of today's walk (6.55 miles; 10.54 km; 1,303 ft total ascent), click here.

There has been a delay in our blog posts because of a temporary inability to log in. But we're back on track now.

Today we walked from Church Stretton to Wenlock Edge, which is the first day proper of Part Three of the B2B, Day 62 in total. On the face of it, it was a simple 6.5 mile walk which is nice for a first walking day of a holiday; but the reality is that what the walk lacked in length it made up for with two big climbs: one in the morning up Ragleth Hill and the other near the end up onto the escarpment of Wenlock Edge.  

We got up after 8:00 a.m. and breakfasted on two baguettes I brought home from dinner last night, and the last of the strawberries. We left our shepherd's hut around 10:35 a.m. and went into Church Stretton. I wish I had taken a photo of my crushed water bottle, but we threw it out at the shepherd's hut. The huge dent had somehow broken the insulating materials and was making water condense in a small stream on the outside of the bottle. When we got into Church Stretton, we went to the outdoor store and bought a lavender-coloured CamelBak water bottle. The clerk was very kind, taking off the packaging (which I didn't want to carry) and even filling the bottle with water. We then went to a shop called "Mr. Bun the Baker" and bought two rolls, a flapjack, and a fruit scone for dinner because there is no place to eat within three miles of where we're staying. At the convenience store we bought a chicken tandoori sandwich for our lunch. 

A stiff pull up Ragleth Hill

We left Church Stretton at 11:35 a.m. and were just going to wend our way up a neighbourhood street when a young couple stopped us by asking if we were local and could give directions. Ken answered that we weren't local, but he was able to give directions. (Ken is always asked for directions while we are walking, and he is always able to give good ones!) The couple wanted to go to Caer Caradoc, and the woman thought the man was headed in the wrong direction (which he was). He had a Google map on his phone, which had much less detail than the OS map Ken had. Ken wished he had given him the small map he had bought and didn't really need anymore, but he didn't think of it till afterwards. They did set off in the right direction as we set off for our first climb of the day up Ragleth Hill.

We went straight uphill through a neighbourhood with lovely gardens, then onto a path that went steeply uphill, and then onto another path that contoured more gently around the side of the hill in order to get us to the top of Ragleth. We chatted with a nice woman who had a dog named Belle. The woman had several connections in the Vancouver and Seattle areas. We walked along the ridge until we reached the summit (Ken declared four small rocks to be the summit), then we went back aways and found a spot on the side of the hill that sheltered us from the wind a bit. We ate our lunch, and during lunch Belle the dog came down for a visit with us. I almost wished she had snatched and eaten my portion of the sandwich because it had a vinegary flavour I didn't like. The flapjack, however, was outstanding. We have had mixed experiences with flapjack, but this one was unmixed delight. As we ate lunch we watched a couple of sheep pour down their sheep trail on the hillside.

Looking down on Church Stretton

 

The views on Ragleth Hill in all directions were wonderful. We briefly chatted with an older man who said that he never tired of walking there. I could see why. 

Happy at the (windy) top, with Caer Caradoc at left and Hope Bowdler at right

 

After lunch we descended to Dryhill Farm, which had a small meadow project. They were letting wildflowers and grasses grow in order to nurture the insect life. As we walked along, I felt very happy. We walked a half mile to the hamlet of Chelmick, where every house and garden was stunningly beautiful, many with amazing views over the valley. We walked along a lane, then a bridleway, then down into Chelmick Valley and past a woman's house where she was reading a book in her garden. We loved the path through the wood of the valley, and after a succession of paths and road walking came to Ticklerton, another small and beautiful hamlet—alas, with no place to sit and rest.

The road to Eaton: inspiring oaks and Wenlock Edge in the background

A rest at Eaton before the climb

As we walked along the road to Eaton, edged with beautiful hedgerows and oak trees, I felt overwhelmed by peace. When we arrived at Eaton, Eaton Hall seemed like it was a holiday let, with a family happily chattering away in the garden. Outside the church there was a bench in the sun, and Ken just sat and enjoyed a good rest while I went into the church, St. Edith's. After joining Ken on the bench and having some water and ginger biscuits, we left at 4:00 p.m. to tackle the second major climb of the day, up the escarpment of Wenlock Edge.

Steeply up!

The path was immediately challenging, steep, with mud from the rain having been churned up by bicycles. It looked as though people had tried to stabilize the path with landscape fabric underneath the dirt and stones, but it hadn't proven very effective. There was exposed fabric in several places. We did smell the first wild garlic of the trip—it is just finishing its time of blooming. 

The path became easier after we angled off to the left, and we took turns in the lead in order to get to the top. We reached the top, and an amazing view of Hope Dale opened before us. The bridleway continued into a meadow full of golden buttercups that was so beautiful Ken wanted to cry. The meadows, trees, and views were incredibly beautiful. As usual, I also enjoyed the small details as well as the big views—I spotted a lovely purple orchid that grows wild (probably a "common spotted orchid," but I found it uncommonly beautiful). 

A Hopedale meadow: pictures do not do it justice!

 

 

On the home stretch now, we gradually ascended through the meadows and then walked a bumpy and occasionally muddy bridleway which turned into a rough road. Shortly thereafter, Ken saw our host Beccy bringing water to her horses. It was 5:15 p.m. Beccy made us feel immediately welcome and at home. In our room, we had our dinner of buttered buns, and later a dessert of the fruit scone we had bought in the morning from Mr. Bun. I read Elizabeth Gaskell's story Cousin Phillis and finished it. The room was at the front of the house and had a floor to ceiling window, and the view was incredible, of overlapping valleys and hills and in the distance, Titterstone Clee Hill. As it grew dusky, we watched two mature rabbits and one young one on the grass just outside. The young one occasionally touched noses with one of the older ones, and it hopped around in an amusing way. 

Looking towards Titterstone Clee Hill from near our B&B

 

I can't remember at what point in the walk Ken said, "My legs feel weak—but the only way to get stronger is to keep going." I felt like that is definitely a truth sometimes, that the only way to get stronger is to keep going. It was a good day of walking, and we will keep going to Much Wenlock tomorrow.

 

 

Our Last Full Day in Church Stretton: Climbing Caradoc

For an OS map of our loop walk to Caer Caradoc (5.9 miles; 9.49 km; 1.054 feet total ascent), click here.

We were up before 9:00 a.m., which felt like progress in the attempt to shake off jet lag. After a breakfast of tea, toast, and strawberries, we set off at 10:55 for our Caer Caradoc walk.

It was wonderful to set out walking again, and very soon after leaving town, a view of our destination spread out in front of us. 

On course for Caer Caradoc (from the south): we would head around to its right and then up its northeast flank

I enjoyed everything about the walk—the surprising scent of honeysuckle in one of the hedgerows, the different textures of the paths (even the slightly muddy ones), and the birdsong of skylarks and cuckoos. And the sheep! It was lovely to see them again. 

One ewe was separated from her lamb in another field (although there was no gate between fields so they could have found each other if they had been clever enough), and the lamb had the loudest cry we'd ever heard from a sheep; it was deep and resonant. On the walk back, there was a lamb that sounded like it was bleating the word "lamb" in a low voice, and I joked that it was really saying, "Don't . . . eat . . .  lamb!" But I am getting ahead of myself. 

Ken could describe the route in more detail, but I would say that the most noteworthy feature of the walk was (unsurprisingly) the views, which demanded frequent stops both on the way and especially from the top. As we skirted around the east side of Caradoc, we also met some walkers who provided some good route advice and just enough social interaction to give Ken an energy boost as we made our way gradually uphill to the top.

It was overcast and cold but the views were still amazing. Ken pointed out many features: to the west was the Long Mynd, the site of our wonderful last day's long walk with Susan last year. Looking east we could see the long line of Wenlock Edge, on which we will walk for the next day or two. Looking south there was a wonderful panorama of hills and valleys. And to the northeast lay the Lawley and the Wrekin, with the north Shropshire plain and perhaps even Cheshire hazy in the distance.

 

From Caradoc summit: looking north towards the Lawley and, in the distance, the Wrekin

 Although it was cold sitting on the top of Caer Caradoc, eating our buttered bread, it was wonderful. After both reading about it and then having had a great view of the hill from our All Stretton Airbnb on the last day of our B2B Part Two walk last year, it was a walk Ken really wanted to do—and we did it!

A daredevil on the rocks!

[Ringing the summit were a variety of dramatic rock formations as well as the distinctive ditches and ramparts of an ancient hill fort; one of the rumoured strongholds of Caractcus (i.e., Caradoc, AKA Cymbeline). Whatever the reality of who built and inhabited the fort, it is pretty awe-inspiring. Given how cold it felt in the wind in late May, I'd hate to have had to man the fort in winter!—Ken]

I was surprised to see a small patch of what looked like yellow violas, a flower I would associate with domestic gardens rather than mountains. I wondered if they had been introduced by rabbits in the same way they had been in my garden at home. We also saw a red kite several times, a bird of prey that was extinct in Britain but has been reintroduced with success, as we saw today. It was majestic as it glided around.

Note that cameras "flatten" the landscape: this was very steep!

 

In some ways, descending a mountain is harder than ascending, and this descent involved a path with loose gravel. At one point my foot skidded on the gravel and I found myself flat on my back. I was wearing gloves, so my hands weren't skinned, and thankfully I landed "well" and didn't injure anything. I landed on the day pack that I was using, but the otter-seals, who love mountain walks, were uninjured.

The Seals at the Summit of Caer Caradoc

 

After our descent we walked straight into Church Stretton and went to Jemima's coffee shop. We sat in a room with couches and shared Earl Grey tea and slices of cake: orange almond for me, and bumblebee(?) for Ken, a banana-pineapple cake with cream cheese icing. Both cakes were good, but I liked Ken's better.

While I was previewing the cakes in a different room, Ken unpacked the day pack I had been wearing and discovered that I had partially crushed my lightweight aluminum insulated water bottle. We think it is somehow leaking at the lid, though we haven't quite figured it out. I was pleased that it was my bottle that was damaged, since I had previously dented it by dropping it on the pavement in a parking lot. Ken's water bottle is still pristine.

The King's Arms, Church Stretton

We came up to the hut after that, and then went down again for dinner at the King's Arms. I had carrot coriander soup, and helped Ken eat his order of faggots (meatballs), mash (mashed potatoes) and gravy. It was the first time we had tried faggots, which are apparently associated with the region in which we are travelling. They were excellent, and tasted like they had oatmeal and herbs in them.

We came back up to our shepherd's hut for a final evening of relaxing and enjoying the view out our window before walking on to Wenlock Edge tomorrow.

 

"I have just two minutes to shop, and it's deadly!" Or, Bookstores and Walking Holidays Don't Mix!

After spending literally all day yesterday inside our shepherd's hut in a jetlagged but happy state, watching the rain sheet down over the small town of Church Stretton and its verdant surround of hills, today we awoke—late but not nearly as late—to the sight of sheep on those hills, of bright clouds and occasional sun, a cold but crisp day to explore.

We ventured forth around noon taking a shortcut path into the town. It's a likeable place. Thursday is market day, and we succumbed to buying two punnets of fresh strawberries. We looked at a few cafes, all of which looked busy, friendly, and full of good food, and we settled on the Holly Bush Cafe where we enjoyed sandwiches and salads, with tea for me. Workmen in huge wellies, walkers with rucksacks, locals who were regulars, and a huge white dog made for an enjoyable and lively environment. 

We aren't people who shop for fun; in fact, we avoid shopping even when we probably should. Today, however, we had such a lovely time looking at things that were useful, beautiful, or both (William Morris would approve). The one place we always enjoy shopping is a bookstore, but going into bookstores on a walking holiday, according to Ken, is torture. We simply can't carry books with us in our rucksacks. There was a small used bookstore with a good collection of local history books that interested Ken, and there was a new bookstore that had several books that were similarly intriguing. Usually I don't enjoy looking in new bookstores because there is little that entices me, but this one had an appealing selection. While we were in this bookstore, a woman walked in and declared, "I have just two minutes to shop, and it's deadly!" On the street outside we could see a coach with its doors open, waiting. I'm not certain if she found something in that short amount of time. 

We went to an outdoor store and Ken bought a large scale yet very handy, pocket-sized, un-foldable map covering Caer Caradoc, a nearby hill we hope to climb tomorrow, weather permitting, as well as some of the territory on our upcoming walk to Wenlock Edge (the first day proper of the B2B Part Three). We looked for secateurs (pruning shears) at a general store, a garden store, and a convenience store because we've been debating the virtues of carrying shears to cut down nettles around stiles in certain situations. So far we haven't bought any. I've noted that we've survived this many walks without shears, and will probably survive this walk as well [albeit with a few nettle stings! —Ken]. We went to a local chocolatier and bought eight different flavoured chocolates and one piece of Turkish delight. 

I had been looking for an inexpensive book to read while we're in the shepherd's hut, with the plan of discarding it along the way. Although I teach "great literature," I realized that on holiday you don't really want to read something tragic, weighty, or depressing. Thomas Hardy's novels wouldn't be a go-to, for example. We went back to the used bookstore so that I could buy Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford and Cousin Phyllis in a combined volume for £3.50. We then visited several charity shops, which were well-organized and had good things. I saw a nicer copy of Gaskell's Cranford and Cousin Phyllis for £1. I also saw a Life of George Eliot by her husband J. W. Cross for £5, which seemed amazing to find in a charity shop. It was so thick and heavy—if it had been something to do with Charlotte Brontë I would have bought it and carried it until we posted a package, but I decided the weight wasn't worth it for me since George Eliot isn't the focus of my research. 

At a gift-shop, we resisted buying OS map-themed items such as a cook's apron or tea-towel with a map of Church Stretton on it. Ken was tempted! In the final charity shop, I saw a blouse I instantly liked, with an intricate pattern of  flowers and rabbits on it. I tried it on, and it fit like it was made for me. That almost never happens when I'm shopping for clothes. It was £4.50. I bought it.

After a rest in our shepherd's hut, we went down again for dinner at the King's Head pub, for a huge portion of steak and ale pie (Ken) and spinach cannelloni (me) in a nice atmosphere. A lovely day at a slow pace.

We've Arrived in Church Stretton!

View of Church Stretton from inside the hut

The report for Wednesday afternoon is that we had, in Ken's words, "the lie-in of the century" today. After going to sleep at 9:00 p.m. on Tuesday, I woke up at 4:45 a.m. when Ken's elbow hit the wall in our small shepherd's hut. He kept sleeping, and I fell asleep again at 7:00 a.m. We then slept some more and finally "got up" (though not really) at 12:30 p.m. on Wednesday. Ken built in a jet-lag day for us to do nothing, and that is exactly what we have done all day in our "Hilltop hut"—nothing. It has been for the most part pouring rain outside, and we've simply enjoyed the view of the green hills and trees. 

On Monday, we got a ride to the airport with our friends Matt and Eva, who happened to be flying to Germany on the same day as we were flying to England. Our flight was uneventful, which is what one always wants. I don't even recall any turbulence. Ken and I didn't bring headphones (keeping pack weight minimal), but we synchronized our seatback screens and watched Mr. Bean's Vacation together without any sound. It worked quite well as a silent movie, and it helped that we had seen it before. We did the same with Wallace & Gromit's The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, but that was a bit harder to follow without the dialogue. I also fell asleep during the latter half. 

At Gatwick airport train station, Ken printed off our train tickets to Church Stretton. Given that Gatwick is in West Sussex and Church Stretton in Shropshire, the train trip was long and involved three separate journeys. The trick was to keep awake enough to get off at the right stops to make the changes. Both Ken and I nodded off at various points, but managed to stay awake. I actually stood for the latter part of each train trip, and a couple of times I almost fell asleep standing. 

But we made it to our shepherd's hut, and now we are thoroughly enjoying our rest!

 

Introducing the B2B, Part Three

Here is our Barnstaple to the Bay, Part Three itinerary: from Church Stretton in Shropshire to Eyam in Derbyshire. 

Our trip will begin where we left off Part Two, with a few days at Church Stretton in the heart of the beautiful Shropshire Hills. We will start with a walk to, and then along, Wenlock Edge—of A.E. Housman fame—before heading northeast to visit the namesake bridge and many museums at Ironbridge Gorge, the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution. We will then proceed across eastern Shropshire and into part of Staffordshire, visiting Boscobel House (and a descendant of the famous "royal oak" where Charles II hid from Cromwell's troops in the English Civil War). From there we will continue across Staffordshire, visiting the natural playground of Cannock Chase as well as Shugborough Hall, with a nearby canal junction and canal paths aplenty then guiding us east alongside the River Trent. Finally, will turn north to enter Derbyshire following the River Dove into the beautiful and justly famous Peak District: our walk coming to a climax visiting the beautiful valleys, villages, and country houses of the area and finishing at village of Eyam, whose residents' heroic self-isolation during the plague of 1665-1666 has justly earned it a place in history.

I (i.e., Ken) normally like to link to an Ordnance Survey "map itinerary" of the entire trip, but because of life's busyness I have not had time to complete it. (Building an OS map of a three-week walk is very slow since both our computer and the OS Maps software struggle handling such a long walk.) So for now, readers can skip the next paragraph and go directly to a text itinerary, which will give a sense of where we are going, the places we'll visit, and how many miles (and kilometres) we will walk each day.

For an OS Map of our journey, click [map to come]. Once at the linked OS map, take note that if you tick the "Add key waypoint labels to route" box lower down in the left hand margin, you will be able to see our stopping points for each day of Part Three of our walk; namely, days 62 to 82.

 

Here is our itinerary

Three "jetlag days" in Church Stretton, followed by: 

Day 62: Church Stretton to Wenlock Edge (6.5 miles; 10.5 km)

Day 63: Wenlock Edge to Much Wenlock (10.1 miles; 16.3 km)

Day 64: Much Wenlock to Jackfield (Ironbridge Gorge) via Benthall Hall (7.3 miles; 11.8 km)

Day 65: Rest day touring Ironbridge Gorge museums

Day 66: Rest day touring Ironbridge Gorge museums 

Day 67: Jackfield to Albrighton (8.4 miles; 14.8 km)

Day 68: Albrighton to Boscobel via Boscobel House (6.1 miles; 9.8 km)

Day 69: Boscobel to Penkridge (12.5 miles; 20.1 km)

Day 70: Penkridge to Milford via Cannock Chase (8.1 miles; 13.0 km)

Day 71: Rest day in & around Milford to visit Shugborough Hall

Day 72: Milford to Colton via Haywood Junction & associated canal paths (7.8 miles; 12.6 km)

Day 73: Colton to Doveridge (12.7 miles; 20.4 km)

Day 74: Doveridge to Thorpe (13.9 miles; 22.4 km)

Day 75: Rest day in & around Thorpe and Tissington

Day 76: Thorpe to Hartington (9.3 miles; 15.0 km)

Day 77: Hartington to Litton Mill (11.6 miles; 18.7 km)

Day 78: Litton Mill-Millers Dale-Chee Dale loop walk (7.3 miles; 11.8 km)

Day 79: Litton Mill to Bakewell (6.6 miles; 10.6 km)

Day 80: Rest day in & around Bakewell to visit Haddon Hall

Day 81: Bakewell to Baslow via Chatsworth Estate (4.55 miles; 7.3 km)

Day 82: Baslow to Eyam via the Edges (9.5 miles; 15.3 km)

Concluded by a weekend at Eyam & Sunday worship at Eyam Church before heading back to Gatwick for our return flight...