Day 7 - Cardington Loop
Today was a loop meaning that I had the luxury of not carrying my bag as I was staying in the same place for 2 nights. That said it was the longest toughest day so far. My dad's journal entries from 1972 are in the white boxes, mine from 2022 are the rest.
It was Sunday morning and there was a church service in full swing so I didn't intrude, but I did look at the outside of Cardington church before continuing up the narrow country lanes until the sight of Caer Caradoc suddenly appeared in front.
The drovers road around the hill takes you most of the way, then paths veer off to the summit. At one point there was a memorial to a walker who had died during a ramblers club walk there - not what I needed to see whilst a struggling up a steep slope! All around the hill were groups of young people orienteering on this grey and drizzly morning as part of their Duke if Edinburgh Award. Nice to see that hasn't changed.
The flat summit has a wall built all around it - the remains of an ancient castle hill fort. There are great views West across the three Strettons (Church, Little and All), North to Leebotwood and Dorrington and East back towards Cardington. I managed to find the cave as well - not sure if dad knew about it but I was told to find it by a local I’d chatted to the other day - it’s the cave where Hadrian (of the wall fame) hid whilst escaping persecuters. Indeed it is a very hard to find little cave, invisible from above or below until you get right up to it. Imagine how different history might have been if he had been found there!
The decsent was indeed tough going but after rejoining the at times very overgrown drovers road I soon found myself back in Church Stretton.
I was going to have lunch The King’s Arms but felt like a change and went to Poppys, a sweet little tea room where I had Welsh rarebit and a cup of tea. I remember going to the same tea room with my great-aunt Maggie many years ago (the one who stayed my dad off on his walk). Before leaving had a quick look around the town - my cousin Shiela lives here but I don't really know the town itself that well. I stuck my head into the antique shop, a giant Aladdin’s Cave of a place filled high with about 30% antiques and 70% junk. I stuck my head in the church, wasn't sure which building “the hotel” was although I know I've had it pointed out before, then finally returned to The King’s Arms to have a single pint, just to say I’d definitely been there. Then it was back on the road.
I think the roads were much quieter when my dad walked them. They aren't as enjoyable to walk down now. I stuck to pretty footpaths that ran the same way. Here is Hope Bowlder (my dad misspelled it) and the path to it.
I had a very frightening experience between there and Wall-Under-Haywood. The footpath led along the edge of a field of cows. I was hesitant about crossing but the path was right against the hedge and they were grazing away at a distance in the far side of the field and seemed to be minding their own business. But as I began crossing the field, one by one they started to come towards me, slowly but surely, getting more excited and mooing loudly. I kept calm and carried on without giving them eye contact or running but the whole herd came and followed me. They definitely seemed to expect something, paint to be fed. Frightened of bang trampled I just kept as calm as possible, eyeing up the stile in the corner of the field and hoping I would make it in time. I did but by this point they were almost circling me and only when I climbed over the stile to safety did I turn around to this sight of them still trying to scramble towards me. I didn't feel threatened as much as just very vulnerable and I’m sure they just wanted fed and thought I was some sort of stout farmhand (how little they know me) but it still scared the bejesus out of me.
At Wall-Under-Heywood I heard a boy prostrate his mother for not getting him burgers for dinner. “I TOLD YOU I WANTED BURGERS!” he was brattishly shouting at her. Then I turned a corner and saw a girl of about 12 chasing a chicken around the streets. For some reason these two minor incidents stuck in my head, and the town was not really noteworthy for anything else. A short walk up narrow lanes led to Rushbury, in which I managed to locate the same sign.
Who would've known this short paragraph would cause me such stress. I found the former station at Rushbury easily, but I’d confused the markings of dismanted railway on the map with a public right of way. It turns out the old railway line now lies over several stretches of private land, and is totally overgrown in parts. Ignoring “PRIVATE” signs I trespassed along the first part of it, now used as a farm access track. Aware that unlike in Scotland, where the right to roam law means you can effectively walk almost anywhere as long as you don't damage property or go into homes or gardens, here I could get fined heavily for trespassing, I walked along the long straight path constantly checking for the farmer. Then crossing what I thought was a pile of earth but turned out to be a pile of manure, I got my boot stuck in it and had to haul myself out. Then I spent a while approaching the farmhouse, paranoid about being caught. After this is got more relaxing, as the next stretch wasn’t private but then I found myself in another private area only this time a couple passing by said they lived here and it was fine to take the path so I went for it. The whole stretch of line is in particularly beautiful surroundings, with the wide open views to the left and Wenlock Edge up on the right. I imagined all the people who must have taken that journey, looking out of the windows and seeing the same scenery. It’s a shame that it isn't opened up as a footpath, as it’s mostly a perfectly accessible path that's used as access by various landowners - there's nothing particularly private about it as its mostly shared access anyway, and it's a lovely walk if you exclude the mountains of dung you have to climb over in the middle.
I reached the footpath up Wenlock Edge to Wildehope and climbed it half way then sat down on the grass in a field with a picnic I’d bought for dinner, knowing the only place to eat in Cardington closes on Sundays. It was a terrific view and a lovely place for a picnic. Having munched it all, I lay down for a while then walked the 3 miles back to Cardington where I thoroughly scrubbed my boots and had an early night, exhausted after completing the first stage of my long walk.
