The Long Mynd: Carding Mill Valley & Minton Batch – 10.75 miles

Saturday 16th February 2013

Map: OS Explorer OL217 – The Long Mynd & Wenlock Edge

Church Stretton – Carding Mill Valley – The Port Way – Shooting Box – Pole Bank – Minton Batch – Minton – Little Stretton – Church Stretton

At last, a proper walk!

The triple constellations of climate, opportunity and inclination came into alignment, and, for the first time in a long time, a trip into the hills beckoned.

Carding Mill Valley was beginning to get busy as we made our way through and began to climb out of the valley beside the tumbling beck. Taking the main route it’s a steady pull to the top: nothing too strenuous, but one that works the legs and lungs a bit after weeks of relative inactivity.

We turned southwards, making our way along the summit ridge towards the trig point at Pole Bank. There are great views to either side: Corndon Hill and the Stiperstones to the west, the linear ranks of the Shropshire Hills to the east.

After a brief lunch stop, we dropped down into the steep-sided gully of Minton Batch. The top section was wet and muddy, but this soon gave way to firmer footing – and running water. Apart from the occasional MTB, it’s a pretty quiet route off the Mynd. Buzzards can often be seen soaring overhead in the thermals and, as if in anticipation, the sun came out.

These pleasantly bucolic scenes were somewhat spoilt by the farm at the bottom of the clough. Now I’m the first to accept that the lot of a modern-day farmer is not necessarily a happy one, but we’ve been walking this circuit for three or four years now, and in all that time there has been little or no change.

For the life of me, I can’t see the attraction in living in such squalor – especially since the surrounding countryside is so beautiful, and the Shropshire Hills an AONB. Never mind the accumulation of old tyres, plastic, feed buckets, rolls of barbed wire and so on, you’d think the scrap value of the rotting vehicles alone – two Land Rovers, a tractor, a Transit van, an Escort van and two animal boxes at the last count – might be worth something.

But I digress.

For the remainder of the walk we were accompanied by warm sunshine. Beyond Little Stretton we climbed a steep bank above Ashes Hollow before dropping down to Church Stretton to finish the walk.

So, a first decent outing for some time, and one we definitely needed – both to shake off the lethargy that had begun to settle in and to kick-start the training we need to do to get back into shape. It seems a long way off at the moment but, come spring, we will need to be at our best if we are to get full enjoyment out of our planned route.

8 Miles Eggsactly

Saturday morning arrived, along with some long-awaited sunshine – seemingly the first decent day in a while. Time wasn’t on our side, but we fancied a bit of a walk to get the legs going and enjoy a bit of fresh air.

It had been noted that, a la Old Mother Hubbard, the cupboard was a bit bare, and I go weak at the knees if I don’t know where my next meal is coming from. So we decided to go and buy some eggs from a farm a couple of villages away, fresh Scrambled Egg on Toast being a favourite.

Despite the sunshine it was a surprisingly chilly morning, and a thin scrim of ice covered the occasional puddle. It was still quite early for a weekend morning, so the lanes were mostly quiet and we made good progress. The views were nice, if not spectacular, but the event of the walk came when a Stoat, complete with black-tipped tail, shot across the road in front of us.

We picked up our plunder, put a pound in the honesty box, and returned by the same route. The GPS confirmed a round trip of some two and a half hours, totalling 8 miles – eggsactly!

Book Review: The Wild Places – Robert Macfarlane

OK, so the eagle-eyed amongst you will have spotted this is not a new book and has been out for some while – about 5 years or so, in fact. Indeed, I have owned a copy for well over a year and not got round to reading it before. Given that I was captivated by Macfarlane’s first book, ‘Mountains Of The Mind’, it might seem odd that I’ve delayed reading this for so long. But there are some things in life that are not rewarded by instant gratification, where the anticipation of discovery is enhanced by the denial of temptation: would this be worth the wait?

As the title suggests, the central theme of the book is wildness. Are there any genuinely wild places left in Britain? In order to search out the wild landscapes of these islands, Macfarlane undertakes a series of journeys across the length and breadth of the country, climbing, walking, swimming and sleeping out – in all conditions and in all seasons – through some of the most extraordinary locations across the UK and Ireland.

Although this is a journey through wildness, it is not confined to wilderness alone. As well as remote Scottish glens and Lakeland mountain tops, the author explores Limestone pavement, Beech woods, ancient holloways, hedgerows and coastal mudflats, providing an insight into some of the less obvious wild places about us.

As with ‘Mountains Of The Mind’, the quality of the writing is peerless. Throughout, Macfarlane manages to convey his love for the great outdoors and the awe and wonder his experiences provoke. The observations are acute, the arguments well formulated, and complex concepts are skillfully explained. What he describes is as much a journey of discovery for him as for the reader.

The other central theme of the book is how the concept of ‘wildness’ impacts on the human condition. He argues that it is of vital importance – we need ‘wildness’ about us as a contrast to ‘civilisation’, in much the same way as we need sadness to fully understand joy, or hate to appreciate love – and that without it we are diminished as human beings.

This is the sort of book that should appeal to all lovers of the outdoors, from summiteers to Sunday strollers: bird watchers to backpackers. It articulates a lot of what those of us who appreciate being confronted by nature actually already know – concepts and ideas that we can all understand and relate to – but in a language that is clear and coherent, and in a way that can engage even the most cynical of minds.

As such, I would recommend it to anyone who considers themselves even remotely interested in our wonderful countryside.

More importantly, though, I think it is the sort of book that could enlighten even those who don’t understand what the countryside means to people like us: those who gain something special from being outdoors that cannot be gained in any other way.

In fact I’d go as far as to say this book should be required reading for those in our society whose actions impact on our countryside – planners, politicians, landowners, developers, utilities companies and the like – and whose decisions directly affect the future of our wild places. What is lost when short-term gain is put ahead of the need to protect this dwindling resource is both irreplaceable and incalculable.

It is the greatest irony that only those who understand the integrated nature and delicate balance of wildlife and ecosystem can see the true impact of Man’s interference in such ecosystems. For an example of this, you need look no further than the report that concludes that wind farms built on peat moorland are net contributors of Carbon Dioxide to the atmosphere. That’s right: not only do they not reduce overall CO2 emissions (as claimed), they actually add to them. And what kind of land are most wind farms built on?

Of course I don’t expect this book alone to inspire such unbelievers to born-again environmental zeal. But it might at least be enough to effect a minor epiphany: an acknowledgement that there are many people who see the few remaining remote spots of our tiny country as valuable for what they are, not simply a hitherto fore unexploited resource to own, desecrate and make money from in the name of Mammon.

In the end, this book has many plus points, not least of which is the fact that it concentrates on the positive aspects to be gained from connecting with wild nature rather than focusing on the negatives of citing specific examples, appointing blame or crusading campaigning. It celebrates what we have and why it is important, rather than bemoaning it’s loss and castigating those who are instrumental in that decline, and helps us understand why being out there makes us feel good.

It is a gentle persuasion rather than a clarion call, and for that reason it makes it’s point all the more emphatically.

Verdict: if you have any feeling at all for the wild places in our countryside, the effect they have on us, or their influence on the human psyche, read it!

There It Was: Gone!

And then, almost before we knew it, the snows of the last two weeks were gone. On Friday night we were slithering home from the pub in a wet, sleety blizzard. Now, barely 24 hours later, the sun is out, the roads are clear and the fields have reverted back to the gloopy muddiness to which we have become accustomed.

Since my last posting, we have managed a few local trundles: no outings really worth posting about in themselves, but a steady accumulation of miles collected traversing nothing more challenging than local lanes and fields.

We did a bit of “Path Wardening” on Sunday: a local resident had reported an access issue with one of our nearby paths, and, with the subsidence of the snow, we were able to have a look at the problem. A mess, no doubt, but do Rights of Way have a responsibility to address matters such as this? I don’t know, but I can’t help but think it is as much to do with poorly draining soil and the incessant wet weather of 2012 as anything else.

One way or another, January seems to have slipped by in the blink of an eye. But although we haven’t done as much walking as we might have liked, we have at least been busy on the planning front, and holiday prospects for the forthcoming year have been gradually solidifying into concrete plans – more of which in due course. One thing is for sure, though: we will need to be stepping up the pace a bit to be ready for the first of them!

Looking Back: Looking Forward (II)

Who knows where the time goes? Sandy Denny didn't, and I’m sure I don’t. And greater minds than ours have long pondered this question without arriving at a conclusive answer. If they can’t crack it I doubt whether we can. What I do know, though, is that another Christmas and New Year have ticked round, and at this time of year it is customary to both reflect on events of the past twelve months and look forward to the year ahead.

2012 proved to be another pretty successful year for walking, something we weren’t quite expecting to be the case given that Missy G’s scheduled op threatened to take several weeks out of our walking calendar. And, as every UK walker will know, it has been the wettest year on record – wet enough to dampen the waterproofs if not the spirits! – and underfoot conditions have at times been what is known in the trade as “testing”. Only in Britain could a bog between two walls be classified as a footpath.

All in all, it would have come as no surprise if we had been considerably down on last year’s mileage, a year in which we achieved our best-ever annual walking total. In fact not only did we come close, we actually beat it – 738.75 miles of pure recreational walking! It just goes to show what you can do if you get organised.

We spent the last few days of the year popping here and there, visiting family and friends, and squeezing a walk in as we could, taking the chance to walk in their part of the world as well as locally in ours: a couple of days in the Shropshire Hills and a few more around Dentdale providing respite from the social demands of the season.

As can be seen from the accompanying photos, the wet trend of the year continued right to the last – and then some! Still, settling down to our New Year’s Eve celebrations round the warmth of an open fire, we could content ourselves with a sense of achievement and bask in a warm glow not entirely derived from alcohol alone. Rather than rely on Jools Holland and His Rhythm & Blues Bore-chestra, we saw the New Year in with Be-Bop Deluxe, Alabama 3, a Rolling Stones compilation and several bottle of decent Rioja. Satisfaction - in more ways than one.

Of course it remains to be seen how 2013 will develop, but we are already planning a few things that will hopefully take shape over the coming weeks. And, given the relative success of 2012, we shall be aiming for another record-breaking mileage – topping 800 miles would be nice, although we will have to go some to achieve that. OK, so we’ve had a slow start to the year so far, but there’s no harm in aiming high.

As for resolutions? Well I’ve made none as such, other than the usual: to do as much walking as possible and try to read more. Also I’d like to keep more up to date with the blogging (both my own and keeping up with others’) which has taken a bit of a node-dive in recent weeks. It's certainly good to have the renewed sense of enthusiasm the beginning of a new year can bring. 

Finally, on a slightly humorous note, we came across this scene while out walking on New Year’s Eve. As a way of summing up what this Christmas break has meant, I couldn’t imagine a more pertinent metaphor for a holiday if I tried!

Anyway, that’s enough for now. I’m looking forward to another great year, and I hope you are too: a new year full of excitement and adventures from everyone that will no doubt be shared across cyberspace. If it’s anything like last year, it should be a good read.

To be honest, I can’t wait!

Season’s Greetings

It's not like me to be first off the mark in such matters, but I just thought I’d add a quick post to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

What with work, walking and a recuperating Missy G, it’s been a busy twelve months. It’s been a good one, too: luckily there are still a few days to go, and we hope to be out on the hills and fells for a final few miles of the year in between the turkey and trimmings.

This year has been characterised by rain – at least here in the UK – and must go down as one of the wettest on record. The forecast over the festive period is for still more rain, which might soak the clothes but won’t dampen the spirit. I’ll do a round-up of what we get up to in due course, even if the pictures turn out a bit on the soggy side.

But as well as passing on season’s greetings, I’d like to thank everyone who has read the blog this year – particularly any newcomers and those who have felt moved enough to leave a comment of their own. It is always a humbling experience to learn these scribblings have elicited a response, and I thoroughly enjoy reading them all.

So here’s to health, wealth and happiness in 2013.

And, of course, plenty of good walking!

If music be the food of love, play on.

I’ve been up north for work today, and just got in after the long journey home. It’s pitch black outside, -3°C and foggy as hell. So what better on such a night than to shut the world out, settle in with a coffee and listen to some music.

Although mentioned occasionally in these pages, I haven't specifically discussed music before as the main focus has always been walking and the outdoors. But it has been a part of my life since childhood: from my early years listening to Dad's classical collection, through playing in amateur bands of one sort or another for 25 years, to now; regular (if not frequent) trips to gigs.

It’s about that time of year when lists start appearing: awards, bests of and top 10s for this, that and the other. A car journey of some 4 hours each way gave me plenty of time to consider this years' output, so, in a first (and possibly a last) for this blog, here is the Ambles & Rambles music of the year 2012 recommendation.

As I generally tend to listen to albums rather than singles, I’ve picked one track from each of my three favourite releases of the year. None of the tracks is especially short, but is hopefully representative of the album as a whole.

Somebody much more erudite than me once said of popular music that it “says nothing to me about my life.” Well, these songs may not be popular, but they are good, honest music, crafted with care and beautifully performed. All very British and all probably ignored by everybody but fans. These songs say a lot - and say it well. If even one reader takes the trouble to investigate and discovers something they enjoy, it will have been worth posting.

On the other hand, I hope you’ll leave the cold outside and find time to sit back, relax, and check them out for yourself.

Anathema - Untouchable Part 1

This is the opening track of the Weather Systems album, an album full of brooding music played with power and conviction and an intensity of performance so often lacking these days. Five band members from only two families: sometimes the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. A new band to me this year, I know little of their history or back catalogue, but on the basis of this it looks worthy of further exploration.

Marillion - Sounds That Can't Be Made

Most people's opinion of Marillion - if, in fact, they have one at all - is of that band that did "Kayleigh" and sound a bit like Genesis. Well, that was a lifetime ago, and they're a very different band now. For the last 20 years, Marillion have been putting out high quality stuff, most of which has slipped well below the radar of most of the music world. Which is a shame, as they deserve to be heard! This year's offering is every bit as good as anything they have ever released, and this track - the title track of the album - will surprise those who's last recollections of the band include jester-bedecked album covers and a singer called Fish.

Big Big Train - Summoned By Bells

A band I imagine few will have heard of, let alone heard. Never mind - this lot have been beavering away releasing thoughtful, well-crafted music on their own label for around two decades now, and have rarely sounded finer. Very complex, very ambitious and steeped in the English pastoral tradition: the craft is in the detail, and the often simple-sounding passages hide some fearsome playing and deft writing and arranging skills. The orchestral arrangement in the coda is a case in point: gorgeous!