I count by blessings almost every day. To think I can open the door and walk in any direction for an hour and a half and have wonderful views in all directions. It lifts the soul and makes the heart want to sing.
This was all I did this evening. A short four and a half mile walk starting from the back of the house, walking through Port Erin, around the southern side of the Rowany Golf course and up towards West Bradda. Having gained about 300ft by this point, every step means another lovely view. When you get to the grassy moorlands on the headland, the land is even and it is all easy walking. I could have walked around the coastpath down to Fleshwick but this was not the plan for this evening.
There was not a soul in sight, except for those two silhouetted on the mound and they soon departed, so I had the hills all to myself. It was a slightly hazy evening and surprisingly warm and sultry. I wonder if we might get a storm tomorrow, we could certainly do with one. I haven’t seen Bradda Head look this dry for a long time, and it is easy to imagine that fires might incend at any time.
I walked just far enough to get a glimpse towards Niarbyl, and then I retraced my steps to go up to Milner Tower itself. The light was not good for taking photos but that didn’t stop me. I particularly like the one in the slideshow with the spot of sunlight shining on the sea with dark clouds overhead.
As I followed the lower route back to Port Erin the sun came out and lit up the sea. There was very little wind and this allowed shapes to be reflected in the water, as in the feature photo.
This is a route I have described so many times before, so tonight I will leave you with tonight’s photos. You can see why the Isle of Man has been rated the best place to live in a recent HSBC Expat Survey, in which 3/4 of those interviewed saying that their quality of life has improved since moving here – and they didn’t ask me!!!
With bad weather forecast for the weekend, this was the last chance for a good stroll. Even so, it was very very windy, a dress rehearsal for the weekend’s weather.
This four mile walk would take me on three footpaths I haven’t been on in the 6 years I have lived here, and all a stone’s throw from home.
Taking Truggan Road again, I turned off this time before the bend and Glendown Farm, taking a lane northwards between the houses which led up the hill passing a couple of houses with spectacular views of Port Erin – this was my first new path. I joined a second path that I have taken many times before which like many other paths take one to the Howe, just below the chapel. I turned left to take the road to Glen Chass and on leaving the village I took a shortcut on a second new path on the left which leads to the top end of Fistard through a very pleasant field. It is surprising how different a place seems when you see if from a different angle. There are some really lovely quaint cottages in this village, many having super views across Perwick Bay. It has a quiet unspoilt feel to it.
Walking through the village, I followed the road down to the top of the golf course, which looked rather dry. Our island has been rain-free for months to such an extent that a hosepipe ban is being introduced tonight. On reaching the cliff top I decided to take my third new footpath down to the beach. The tide was out and the landscape again looked quite dramatic. Other people have described this as a steep path, but it is quite simple really and if you must have a rest there is a bench towards the top. I spent a happy few minutes watching butterflies on this path, as you will see in the later slideshow.
Keeping to the top of the cliff, I arrived in Port St Mary and pottered about on the very extensive rocky beach. Many times you wouldn’t know these rocks are there, as the tide comes right up to the grassy shoreline, but today the tide was right out. There were some interesting rock formations and the seashells made strange groupings on the rocks as if to protect themselves. They looked as if each little family grouping was social distancing from their neighbour. There were some wonderful colours made by the different seaweeds and sea anemones. The rock pools were quite deep and clear so the animals could be seen in full view without having to fish around and move seaweed to see them. There was also a lot of evidence of what I think are coral fossils.
Once I finished messing about on the beach, it was a matter of strolling home along the outskirts of Port St Mary, taking the underway as far as I could – it is one way to allow social distancing, in the opposite direction to one that I was walking – then following the main road to Four Roads before veering left down the lane and footpaths over the fields back to Port Erin.
This was only a short 4 mile walk, but it felt more because of the variety of interest that it provided. There are so many short walks in the south of the island. Tomorrow or Sunday I may visit Scarlett or Langness or possibly the Carnanes, unless the weather is really wet and windy, in which case I may just stay in bed!
In case I haven’t already told you, we have had three days now with zero cases and all who developed Covid-19 have now recovered. We know we will get cases from time to time but we will be able to manage any infections that occur. Well done to the Manx people and the Manx government. Shows what can be done with border closures and constant Contact, Track and Trace which we have implemented from Day 1 of our first case.
The first day of summer was a gloriously sunny day, continuing the theme of many weeks now. We have barely had a drop of rain since lockdown. This week would have been TT. It is such a shame we cannot share our island with visitors, but as we have just one active case now our borders are closed and will remain so for the foreseeable future to keep it that way. All the more for the locals to enjoy.
We have much more flexibility in what we can and cannot do now – far more so than the UK that is lagging a long way behind us. More people are venturing out as all our shops are open. We can go to restaurants that can serve outdoors and even go and get our hair cut. In a couple of weeks time, it is suggested that our social distance measures will be relaxed a little too, but even now, from tomorrow we can take a passenger from another household in our cars for a ride. So life here is good and we have a lot to be thankful for.
Today, after I had finished my load of predicted grades and spoken to students it was time for a late afternoon walk. If I timed it just right I would make it before the Sound Cafe closed at 4pm. Walking from the house, I walked from the house along Truggan Lane to Glendown Farm and took the lane up to the Howe. I followed the road all the way to Cregneash. This wasn’t a day for walking boots. I was just in my sandals and was content to follow tarmac-ed ways. There were only a few walkers that I passed on the way to Cregneash, and after that, there were no walkers at all and just a few cars passed me.
On reaching the Sound I was surprised how few visitors there were. I didn’t have to queue for my take-away cup of tea and cake. They have made a waiting area and they call you when your order is ready. All very efficient, except the toilets close at 3.30pm, but who needs toilets when you are surrounded by fields.
I spent a very pleasant half hour or so watching the waves, listening to the seals humming to each other and the birds having an argument, then I walked back up the road to Cregneash, around Mull Hill and back to Port Erin.
The views were tremendous today and the highlight was being able to clearly to see the Mountains of Mourne in Ireland. A visit there is on my wish list, which may come sooner than I expect as our borders with Ireland are more likely to open earlier than those with the UK, maybe with some kind of air-bridge as is suggested for countries with low numbers of coronavirus.
The wild flowers normally very prolific at this time of year looked a little sad and were not plentiful, perhaps due to the paucity of rain, so there was a lack of colour on this walk. I saw a couple of butterflies but very little wildlife other than sheep, cattle and rabbits. The views never disappoint though and I did get a nice view of Milner Tower. It always surprises me how far to the west it is coming down the hill!
This was a very pleasant stroll and reminded me that I really must get out more! A trip to the north is in order.
Total distance 5.4 miles; 849ft of ascent; 846ft of descent. Interesting that the distance for each section was identical despite being different routes and almost the same amount of ascent and descent on each section too.
After 9 weeks in almost permanent solitary confinement, I decided to venture further than Shoprite today. It was a mild but very breezy day and I needed to do a house visit to Colby. This provided the perfect reason to get myself off my bum and do some exercise.
I walked across the fields to Four Roads, then up Church Road to Ballachurry Nature Reserve, where I dropped in for a short visit. As I wound my way along the neatly manicured paths I suddenly heard a screech of a mother bird and two little fluffy chicks rapidly made their retreat into the undergrowth. I think they were pheasant chicks but I’m not awfully sure. They were very cute. They hid too well for me to snap them though.
I followed the roads up to the Levels where I took a left turn up the hill. This begins as a road to various small settlements and eventually peters out at a farm. I turned right just before this point and passed an old chapel currently being renovated before meeting another lane, where I turned briefly left and then took a right footpath to Colby which I haven’t taken in 6 years of living here. There is sense of openness here. It is a strange combination of feeling as if you are in the middle of Derbyshire and yet still being able to see the sea. I really enjoyed watching the swathes of grass as they blew in the wind. I did take some video to show you, but WordPress doesn’t permit it 😦
From the countryside one enters the pretty village of Colby. Having taken this particular path I then had to follow the main road north for a short distance to go into Colby Glen itself. This lovely glen never disappoints, no matter what time of year, no matter what the weather. I thought there might be more people there now that our restrictions on the Isle of Man have been lifted to such an extent, but I only saw a couple of young people and a small gathering (up to 10 now permitted here) having a picnic in the glen.
Then it was back down into Colby itself and my visit to the house I look after for my friend. I was somewhat surprised to see a boat on the drive, but this mystery was resolved after I spoke to the neighbour who said he was cheekily borrowing the drive. With our borders being closed, the owners could not travel to the island. Mm, they could have asked the owners first, but hey ho, it doesn’t really matter.
The afternoon warmed up nicely and the sun shone, but my goodness did the breeze blow – in my face, all the way back to Port Erin. By and large I won’t bother you with this part of my walk as I have commented on this section several times before, but I did like the sheep and the skyline of trees and the cows in the foreground as I made my way home. The river Colby is a delight to follow all the way to the sea. It is unspoilt and uninterrupted and you have the feeling that you are following in many people’s footsteps over centuries.
I will let the photos tell you anything else you may wish to know.
And finally, here is the route I took. It is an easy route, on either roads or easy tracks.
This was the longest walk I have done since lockdown, and surprisingly the most sociable. It being a warm, sunny day my intention was to walk down to Gansey, have a stroll on the beach and continue to Port St Mary. It started out that way, but as I was walking through Port Erin I saw one of my friends who, having reached the ripe old age of ‘over 70′, (and therefore considered vulnerable) was working in her front garden, so an impromptu visit was on the cards now that we are able to say’ hello’ from a distance :-). So we had a nice natter and I carried on my walk, down the one-way system, passing the tip with no queues, down to the Bay.
The tide was only just going out, but it was enough for me to able to stretch my legs along the sand as far as the Shore Hotel. This is where I had planned to turn back, but an idea came into my head that the butterflies might be out in my little wilderness just the other side of Kentraugh House, so my plans changed and within minutes I was engulfed by natural wildlife, including a lot of midges and insects and a few butterflies. On the way down the lane, I spied Kentraugh’s wonderful woodland through a keyhole in a gate, full of wild garlic garlic and ultimate charm.
In the reserve there were plenty of male orange tips sipping nectar from the various low growing plants, but the brightly coloured females were constantly on the go and never stopped for one minute – seems like an allegory for all male/female relationships doesn’t it!! The birds were tweeting in the shrubbery and I was able to go off piste and visit areas I had never visited before. Later in the year the grass grows thick and fast and many parts become impenetrable. In the featured photo you can see the yellow flags in the foreground and the village in the distance, this being the boundary of the wilderness.
See how well the butterfly is camouflaged. It looks just like a part of the flower! From here, it was a walk around the other side of Kentraugh House and back along the beach to Gansey. I passed these reeds to the right and I just loved the swirling shapes they made.
I have another friend who lives in this stunning location at Gansey, in a house overlooking the beach. She too is one of these so-called ‘vulnerable’ people, so I took a chance and rang the doorbell, or more accurately knocked the knocker to say ‘hello’. I was greeted warmly and invited into the garden for tea, at a social distance of course. How could I refuse? This is the first time since March 20th that I have shared a cup of tea with anyone, and it was very welcome. I had my hand sanitizer, so I used that as I left.
I walked around Gansey Point looking out for people who might stray into my way on the narrow path, but there were few people about, just a few dogs and their owners. On the beach I did meet a man having a run with his two children who said he was then going to have a swim. Very impressive. I didn’t stop in Port St Mary as I wanted to get home to listen to the Press Briefings, Isle of Man style. This is the first day I haven’t listened to the ‘live’ version, but I managed to catch up later on and hear about the small but significant changes that are happening to our easing of our lockdown.
Leaving Port St Mary, I came across another friend pulling up the wild leeks which have run rampant in her splendid, wooded front garden. I hadn’t seen this friend for a very long time, and it was nice to catch up at a social distance. From there, it was a short walk back home.
Total distance: just under 6 miles; Ascent 259 ft; Descent 223 ft, including scrambling over the boulders to the beach. I do wish whoever placed the (massive) boulders as sea defences had thought that people need to be able to get to the beach from the steps without having to negotiate these whoppers.
I finish with a short slideshow of other beauties in the landscape.
If ever there was a short walk, this is it! My customary stroll down to the village and then on to the beach. I have been asked for some ‘beach photos’ so after my shop I wandered down to see what was in store on the beach today. First though, a snapshot of life in lockdown. It was just after 1.30pm on a debatably warm, but definitely sunny Tuesday afternoon. Normally, Port Erin would be bustling with people and cars would be parked on every available square inch of kerbside. Not today. This is what lockdown looks like when it works properly, just the standard 2 metre depth queue for the Coop, a lone walker, and next to no cars. By the time I got there, the queue had developed to a massive three people and meant a wait of about 10 minutes to do my tiddly shop for eggs and milk.
After that, I continued my solitary walk to the cliff top, where a man was enjoying a bit of relaxation on the bench at the top, where the featured photo was taken. I took the stepped path down to the bottom lane in the centre of the village, where I joined the beach passing by a young child, no more than 2 or 3 on the final section. As I walked passed her, her mum apologised for her young child not understanding social distancing.
You can tell it has been a little windy as the sand had carved out mini layers of sand and rocks. There were surprisingly few people on the beach given that the schools are not back yet and most people are working from home. I had it largely to myself. It was bright and clear today and very pleasant. There was even one brave soul swimming in the water. No danger of contracting Covid-19 there at least!
I walked along the edge of the sea and joined the path at St Catherine’s Well, and followed the lane back to the street corner and more importantly to the ice-cream parlour. I hadn’t planned a treat for myself but it seems rude not to take advantage of an open shop selling such niceties, especially when you aren’t expecting it to be open. In I went and had a pleasant conversation with the owner and we discussed the plight of Davisons in Peel, who had found unwanted fame on social network by someone posting a photo of a long queue and no-one social distancing. It turns out that Davisons had been targeted and the owner had had his tyres slashed – for opening the ice cream parlour!? – and the photo had been taken from such an angle to minimise the distance between people in the queue! It seems some people will find something wrong with anything. I will issue a word of caution as this is simply what I was told and I have no other evidence for or against this point of view.
I enjoyed my raspberry ripple ice-cream as I walked back through Athol Glen which is looking very attractive. A bit of rain wouldn’t go amiss to freshen everything up, but it was doing a pretty good job without it, and the birds were singing in the trees and telling us that life will go on and nothing really changes, so stop worrying and enjoy life.
I finish with a few photos from Athol Glen. I hope to travel up north (if we are allowed to travel, I’m not quite sure). We are now allowed to make unnecessary journeys but I think this is meant to apply to close to home, but I really could do with some air in my lungs. I would really like to walk along the miles of beach around Kirk Michael and tomorrow it is due to be warm and sunny, with less wind than today. I am enjoying it already…..
The distance is immaterial, as you will not be walking from my house. But if you were to park in Port Erin, the whole distance would be no more than 1 mile, with ascent and descent up and down the cliff of 100 feet, And you can follow a gentle road up and down if you don’t like steps. Just lovely to have all this on my doorstep. Aren’t I the lucky one!
At last! A few restrictions have been lifted and we can now enjoy limitless hours of solitary entertainment walking along our wonderful riverbanks, through our forests or along green byways. Psychologically I feel liberated, and no longer feel that eyes are watching me as if I am a criminal when I walk down the road.
After potting up more seedlings and planting more seeds, the warm sunny weather drew me out to go further afield. One of my boys had sent me a heart-warming photograph of a forest of bluebells that he had encountered on his daily Derbyshire walk. Spurred on by his thoughtful gift, I was prompted to drive to Silverdale Glen where I hoped the ramsons and bluebells would be flowering. And indeed they were, though perhaps not quite as abundantly as in previous years maybe due to the exceptionally dry weather we have had over the last month and they certainly weren’t as pungent as they usually are in most places.
I parked in the top car park and walked down the footpath to where the path divides. To the right the boating lake and to the left the wilder side of the glen with the leat running north to south to feed the mill at the lake. This was marked no access but I knew this would where the ramsons and bluebells would be standing at their most proud so I flouted the footpath closed sign for the sake of getting photographs.
The reason for the closure became obvious as the bridge has been taken down and a low one put in its place. Whether it is to remain like this I don’t know, but it would allow pedestrians and wheelchairs access to the other side of the river. It was so quiet down there and the sunlight darted about about the trees and vegetation. It was like being in a fairies’ playground.
There were a few people around the boating lake, some with their children at the play area but this place usually bustling with activity on fine days was a shadow of itself, but still very lovely. I walked to the old Mill and crossed the road and walked up the lane to go to the other man-made lake where there were ducks chasing each other in the water. I was surprised to see butterflies, given that it is so early in May. I saw male orange-tips flittering about never stopping long enough for me to snap them, and what I think is a speckled wood, judging by its eye on the underside.
There were numerous spring flowers lining the paths and riverbed, some of which I have included in the slide show, along with the butterflies and ducks!
I continued down to Ballasalla, passing Abbotswood and saying a little prayer for all those struggling with Covid-19 and the key workers there cleaning up the nursing home to make it safe again for the residents to return. On to the bridge and Rushen Abbey, then following the river north back to the Mill. I hardly saw a soul in the 75 mins I was out.
So, I finish my ramble with a slideshow of the flowers I enjoyed and the interesting trees with the unusual shapes they throw, often looking like hands or monsters creeping over the ground.
We are nearly a month into lockdown here on the Isle of Man, but life goes on for some of us pretty much as usual. For those who live on their own, many days can go by without seeing anyone under normal circumstances. The onus is very much on the individual to be proactive and to make acquaintances and contacts. It’s a lifstyle that we never expect to come to us. When we are younger we appear to be surrounded by people, at work, at home, in our leisure activities, and just the process of getting to work or doing the shopping makes us acutely aware of the hundreds of people we come across in daily life. It’s hard to get away from people. Once you hit retirement, semi- or full, life does change. There is no compulsion to get up in the morning or to hit a bonus target. Life becomes measured by the social activities we engage in and our pension being delivered regularly to our bank accounts. The paid work that some of us may continue with is not a necessity but a way of keeping in touch with our former work and interests, and for me it gives me contact with people of all ages, but particularly a lot of young people. It keeps me in a healthy state of mind.
So what difference has self-isolation made to me? Very little. By choice, I have rarely ventured out these last four weeks. I have a garden and the weather has been good. It have a small but perfectly-formed house where I feel very comfortable. I have had my brain taxed by my exam students who are anxious about being given / not given predicted grades and the effect this will have on their future careers. But work has largely dried up because no-one has any motivation to study, so it is looking as if it will be a quiet summer.
There is no need for a diary right now; my diary is now empty with the exception of a much prized Tesco slot this coming Friday, a video call with friends tomorrow afternoon, and on Saturday my friend and I will be having a ‘virtual afternoon tea’, provided by the Bowling Green Cafe at Castletown to join in with the Great Manx Tea Party being held that day.
With so much free time there are lots of opportunities for acquiring new skills, like drawing which I have been attempting. I am amazed that everything I have attempted so far is actually recognisable so there is a degree of motivation to continue. I have also signed on for an online End of Life Diploma course (yes, I know, I could have picked something a bit more cheery, but this ties in with my hospice work), so I need to plan this into my routine day as well. I am not really one for routines, but under these circumstances some routine is necessary, such as opening up the greenhouse in the morning and watering the garden in the evening. This is how days are measured right now, and better to have some routine then spend the middle of the day spending hours doing jigsaws on my computer!
I decided it was time for a brisk walk this evening. It had been a beautiful, sunny day, if cool. I took the top road and walked down Ballafurt Road to the beach, along to the pier, along the beach and back. I hardly saw a soul, which is not unusual on a Sunday evening. I did pass our MHK Lawrence Skelly as he and his wife were taking their dog for a walk. I refrained from engaging in conversation as they are working so hard on our behalf any leisure time must be just that! It is quiet mainly because of the lack of traffic. People don’t make noise. The quietness does allow colours and shapes to stand out more than usual.
Life in self isolation does not have to be boring. I am happy with my own company and I have four wonderful children who live across who keep in touch most days, and friends who send me amusing videos. We need to laugh, and that is something that is always difficult to have enough of when you live alone. As a psychologist I was taught (all those years ago) that the physical act of smiling helps you to feel happy. The theory has largely be de-bunked these days, but try it, you might be surprised.
The sky was clear as a bell when I awoke, so an early start onto the hills was in order. I had worked out and memorised a route I wanted to take starting from Hope Bowdler, though whether it would work out in practice was anyone’s guess.
I parked in a lay-by alongside mums taking their children to nursery and walked along the road through the pretty village. I knew my path would be just behind the village on the eastern side of a stream, and I found it without a problem. It was all uphill to the source of the stream, keeping Hope Bowdler Hill to my right.
I fully intended to traverse west across the moorland so that I could take in all the peaks, but you could carry on between the hills if you preferred. There are three mini peaks, all nameless, one around 390 metres, the second about 410 metres and the highest at 426 metres. The views across to the Long Mynd were spectacular and the sun warmed my soul as I walked along the ridge. I should mention there is no footpath marked on the OS map but there is a clear path in practice.
From here there is a steep and uneven descent that curves around the hillside contouring for a short time, before entering the valley, scrubland and forest that is very very boggy. The paths here are less obvious but there is plenty of choice and as long as you know roughly the direction you want to go, you will get there. As it was, I didn’t deviate from my mental route all day, which rather impressed me.
There are little streams to cross, but these are not difficult and eventually you hit the main ‘thoroughfare’ between the Hope Bowdler Range and the Caer Caderoc range. There is a choice of routes. There is a steep path up to the first crag to the left, but given my physical condition I tend to look for the more gradual routes, so I walked eastwards on the path until I reached a gate and stile.
There is a clearly visible route that heads directly to the top of Caer Caradoc, but again I wanted to take in the mini peaks, so I ascended over the tussocky ground to join an easy path to the east to view the nameless peaks. The ridge walk was lovely, undulating and soft underfoot, and there is a slightly steeper rockier ascent to reach the craggy highest point at 459 metres. The views are just stunning from here.
Unfortunately, it is all downhill from this point, and quite steeply too. I would recommend walking poles if you are slightly unsure of your balance. The descent is mostly on peat and heather, as opposed to the grit at the top, so if the path is worn or slippery you can walk on softer terrain which will give you more grip. As the descent eases it turns into a grassy track. You could carry on at this point and do the final hill in this series, but that was not in my plan.
I took a path to the right at the shoulder of the hill and followed this round the base of Caer Caradoc to Cwms Cottage, which is actually a ruin. At this point you are back on the former track. The walk continues for a couple of hundred metres west before turning south to go around another unnamed hill, with Cwms Plantation to the left. Once you reach the stile, the path follows a field boundary for about 10 minutes to a point where there is a conjunction of paths.
My route took me south and uphill again over but not over the top of Willstone Hill, across an area called Battle Stones. My path then continued over lovely sheep filled grassy meadows and took me down to Middle Hill, where I expected to walk through a farm and continue.
However, it was marked private and no access. I do apologise but I climbed over the fence because the recognised footpath appeared to continue straight on. However, I would not recommend this. I saw no-one but I heard loads of dogs that were clearly aroused by my presence. They were contained in sheds and not visible, but it was a little alarming.
There is an alternative route, so don’t go down to Middle Hill but go to Cardington Hut and follow other waymarked routes. It will add on another mile, but you can actually start this whole walk the far side of Hope Bowdler, so it would even out. As for me I continued on the farm track. Once on the farm track there is another route via Greystones which takes you down to the main road. Either way, all paths lead to the main road and from there it is simple walk on a grassy verge back to Hope Bowdler.If you get the chance to visit St Andrews in Hope Bowdler it has the feel of centuries of worship and activity. It is only a small church, but it is very special, with an avenue of enormous yew trees leading you to the church entrance, and a lytchgate that still has the stone coffin stand in its entrance.
This was a really super walk. It took about 4 and a quarter hours; 8 miles with 1889 ft of ascent and 1922 ft of descent.
Postscript, 22nd March 2020: Sadly, I had barely written this post when news came through that because of the coronavirus, anyone returning to the Isle of Man after 23.59 on Tuesday (the next day) would have to self isolate for 10 days. I took the rapid decision to get the 2.15am ferry and return to the Isle of Man, so after a hurried evening dinner with HF, I packed my car and shot off up the motorway.
On arriving home, I decided to self-isolate for 7 days in any case, so that is what I have been doing these last six days. Thankfully, I do not have any symptoms so I hope to scale up to the social distancing only stage from tomorrow. Our IOM govt has decreed that as long as we are sensible we can take ourselves for solitary walks, so I will try and fit a few in while most other aspects of life have been put on hold.
The hardest decision to be made each day is usually what to pick from the vast array of food for the packed lunch, closely followed by ‘which walk shall I do today’.
Given that my muscles are not great right now, and can be very painful on exertion, it was a fairly easy decision. Usually I would opt for the longest walk, especially if there is ridge walking involved, but I decided that 8 miles and just over 1000ft of ascent would be sufficient. It is so easy when you are younger to take your health for granted and it is so hard when your health starts to fail and you have to pace yourself and look longingly at ridges and scrambles rather than actually do them.
The day began with a coach journey of 40 minutes to our drop off point in the middle of nowhere, nowhere being just north of Corndon Hill at 344 metres. We followed an easy path over grassy knolls to Michaels Fold Stone circle, which is less impressive in practice than it sounds on paper. Makes you think a farmer so named it for his sheep. It was lovely up here, with wide expanses of moorland.
From here we ventured south on very very muddy tracks to a place called White Grit. We followed a path taking us through Squiver farm up on to the very lovely Milk Hill, veering left of Mucklewick Hill – what wonderfully descriptive names they have in this part of Shropshire, though we may have been in Wales at this point. We continued to the foot of Grit Hill befor traipsing over boggy meadow to a spot called THE BOG. I write it in capitals as that is how it appears on the map.
Here there is a disused mine and a closed visitor centre, but there were benches where we could have our lunch. There was even old machinery showing how they transferred the rock from one end of the hills to another using a rope pulley system.
We had views of the Stiperstones from here, beguilingly in the near distance but just out of reach. We contoured around the lower regions and at a height of 430 metres we started our ascent to the Stiperstones ridge; we walked northwards along the ridge for a few hundred metres. It felt like more as it was very uneven, meaning that each step had to be carefully negotiated. This was our highest point of the day at roughly 490 metres. The views were tremendous in all directions, and we could see the foothills of Snowdonia in one direction, and the Wrekin in another.
We descended through a narrow valley between Perkins Beach and Green Hill. This had a couple of steep and rocky sections but were easily passable with care. This section had an entirely different feel to anything we had encountered the rest of the day.
On reaching the road, it was just a hop, a skip and a jump to the village of Stiperstones and the village pub, which had a welcoming roaring fire, an old fashioned traditional pub, where you could imagine the locals sitting around sipping their pints and exchanging stories.