Indian Summer on the Secret Hills

Despite the dreadful the summer that we’ve had over here, the UK weather always maintains the element of the dramatic surprise. This weekend was simply gorgeous. This was the weather to be out on the hills.

It was the weather that determined my route on Saturday. I took the train over to my favourite Shropshire Hills and started walking from Craven Arms, walking South before meeting the Shropshire Way and following it through gentle hills and along lovely country lanes before climbing high onto the Long Mynd. This was weather that cried out for more variety than the hill could offer on its own. The fields were full of produce, cottage gardens still full of colour and hedgerows heaving with fruit.

As I started to walk across fields I realised that despite walking around here for years, I had never walked this stretch at this time of the year. Fields that were always fallow or simply full of sheep were high with corn. I couldn’t help thinking that the route looked very different.

These low hills are now being promoted as the ‘Secret Hills’ and secret they certainly seem to be. I can’t remember ever seeing another walker on this stretch of walk, although I’m often walking it during the week. On this walk it is possible to wander for fifteen miles or more without coming across a pub, and I guess this is why hikers and rambling groups stay away. It’s a shame really. This is wonderful country. With each mall climb the views and vistas become more lovely. Here there is a balance between the traditional, small, patchwork quilt of fields that is so English and the hint of the misty hills of the marches to come. The hills are here but let’s not forget the country lanes, for this is an area of delightful cottages and country gardens.

Cottage in the shadow of Hopesay Hill

After one delightful country lane stretch — where the blackberries were absolutely a point — I took a path that over looked a small village. It struck me that I’d never dropped down the visit the village. I considered a detour for a few seconds but then carried on my chosen route. Soon the route was overgrown with shoulder high weeds and masses of stinging nettles. The footpath disappeared. I was quite disorientated; nothing looked the same. Within a few minutes I found myself walking down a track, into the heart of the very village that I’d been gazing at a few minutes before.

Oh well, it was a lovely day. Perhaps there would be a pub? But these days these little villages are not made up of real communities but commuters and there simply is not enough trade to allow a hostelry to thrive. There was a small pottery, but somehow it did not have the same allure!

Still, getting lost has its merits. I backtracked in the general direction of my route and found some lovely paths that cut through woodland, and over small hillocks, before joining the forest track that I knew well. This new diversion as certainly a pretty route.

The Secret Hills and a little forgotten tradition!

From the Secret Hills the Shropshire Way climbs up the Long Mynd from its very end, and I always find this to be a lovely walk. As height is gained the views become stupendous. The sun shone so strongly that the views looked as if they had been knocked out with pastel crayons, such was the effect of the heat haze. It was hot — too hot for the merino top that I was wearing — but the air still had a crispness about it, the kind that you associate with the autumn.

High on the Mynd leisure walkers were out in force. A couple of guys were out testing their new SLR cameras. Mountain bikers and horse women shared the bridle ways.

The hazy, quilt of the hills

it had been a good walk with not bad stats, 7 hours of walking with 900 metres of ascent. At Little Stretton the Ragleth Arms proffered a rather lovely pint of locally brewed, Hobson’s bitter.

This was a lovely day for walking in the Heart of England. On weekend’s such as these England provides a walking experience quite unlike anywhere else.