Jack Mytton's Way

Part 3

We share with you Ronnie’s adventure along the Jack Mytton’s Way, a trail that winds through Shropshire’s peaceful countryside.  It’s the only long-distance trail I joined my parents on, and I also wrote a short piece.  I hope to weave my memories into Ronnie’s reflections to bring this journey to life. 

The concluding stretch of this adventurous trek leads from Lower Hill Farm to Church Stretton, a demanding day’s walk where spirits faltered. From there, the path climbs across the breath taking Long Mynd to Lydbury North, where Ronnie shares the tale of Edric Savage, before pressing on towards Knighton. But can they truly reach the end in a single day…? Discover the answer...

From AM's Diary

The Jack Mytton’s Way is a purpose planned bridleway for walkers, cyclists and horse riders and crosses 70+ mile of the South Shropshire Hill Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

Day 4

Lower Hill Farm to Church Stretton

14 Miles

It was dry this morning and quite warm.  Our feet were sore (AM’s and mine) and our muscles ached but we gallantly set off after coffee.  Chris was in a grump this morning complaining that AM an I left him all the work to do – but he was in such a hurry – we were on holiday after all!

The walk took us along the site of an old railway line, which was the Much Wenlock to Craven Arms line, opened in 1864 and closed in 1951, its engines had the delightful names Wenlock Belle and Old Faithful. 

The walking was flat, no views but not quite so enclosed as yesterday.  Eventually we left the track to climb up hill and onto a road and then back into woods where our problems began.  Bearing in mind that the Way is a bridleway we should have known we would come across ground churned up by horses’ hooves but this was ridiculous, the mud was easily knee deep, we skirted around the path through the wood as best we could for as far as we could.  This was probably the deepest mud we were to meet during the course of the day, but not the longest.

Leaving the wood we walked along the road passed the entrance to Wilderhope Manor, now a Youth Hostel and then into a field with magnificent views in several directions.  We decided to stop for breakfast, the hill in front had a tower that looked like a windmill.  There were bales of straw to lean on, the sun beat down and life was pleasant.  Ky wondered off amongst the bales and it wasn’t until much later we realised he had found something really smelly.  It was soon time to move on, Chris was trying to solve AM’s problems with her ankles and blisters and so I wandered slowly on with the dog.  We now entered Coats Wood and followed the track for two miles, in many places it was unpleasant due to the churning the mud had received from many horses, walking became very tiring as we slid and stumbled through the wet bits, it was difficult keeping one’s balance with a heavy rucksack.  AM suffered particularly badly as her boots were banging against her ankles and she became quite downhearted.  Eventually it was all over and we reached a road at Eaton where we had a well deserved rest at the junction of three roads.

It was a busy place with a lady, her pony and dog going one way, and two male walkers and their dog going another.  From here we could see that tower again.  Matters did not improve as we set off – the wrong way downhill and a very steep hill it was!  Fortunately, we didn’t quite get to the bottom before our navigator realised his mistake.  But I wonder why it is known as a Roman Bank.

We were soon on the right path and passed the two walkers who had stopped for lunch.  Up hill and skirting the edge of a wood it started to rain, so we took shelter under the trees, the two walkers passed us again.  Once the rain stopped, we were off across some fields where we saw the two walkers in the distance disappear off in a different direction to ours.  We now went steeply downhill through some woods, I’m sure we could have tobogganed and slid all the way down on the mud, but we gingerly picked our way down, slipping and sliding in the mud to Eaton we were almost at the half way point here but that didn’t cheer AM up very much.  We had lunch sitting beside the road and were soon off again, all the walking this afternoon was on country lanes, Chris quite footsore and AM was lagging behind as we climbed up hill between Ragleth and Helmeth Hills before dropping down to Watling Street and Church Stretton.  AM was getting slower and slower, was it because of her ankles or the fact that her chin was dragging on the ground?  We tried to buy AM some new walking socks – she had lost one put out to dry somewhere along the route today, we also tried to have a council of war but AM was so unhappy it was impossible.  Chris had hoped to go up Cardingmill Valley, and find a sheltered spot for camping, AM quite obviously would not make it that far.  We offered her a ride home on the train but she refused, she is as stubborn as myself!  Chris and I took matters into our own hands, organised chips for dinner, bought more supplies from the supermarket and asked about campsites.  There was one the other side of the comprehensive school, something I should have remembered from when Chris did the Long Mynd Hike and AM was doing her Brownies Camp Cook Badge!

We sat in the middle of Church Stretton to eat our fish and chips and then set off for the camp site.  We were met by a very nice man who showed us where to camp and explained the facilities, he showed great interest in our journey and before I could warn him he made a fuss of Ky.  He later returned with a brush and told us there was a hose we could use to clean Ky down.

Tents soon up, kettle soon boiling and AM was much happier after a very pleasant shower – she enthused about it so much I took the plunge too and quite enjoyed it, feeling a lot fresher afterwards.  The facilities were far superior to last nights dingy toilet and shower facilities, although the view was not quite as good.

Stretton – Street Town – Watling Street of Roman origin went from Uriconium to Gloucester and passes through the modern outskirts of Church Stretton.  Originally it was a tiny market town but its heyday came in Victorian times when the town tried to copy the spa towns of Llandrindod Wells and Leamington, becoming a health resort for those that enjoyed open air pursuits such as walking and hunting, the red grouse being introduced on the Long Mynd in the 19^th century.

Extracts from AM's diary

Day 5

Church Stretton to Lydbury North

12 Miles

Not quite up with the lark but up early anyway, it was very cold outside the tent, the grass felt icy on our bare feet and by the time I had walked to the toilet block and back my feet were numb with cold – I hoped I would remember this later on in the day when they were likely to be very hot and sweaty!  Chris tied some bandaging around AM’s ankles to stop the bang of her boots and promised to try something else if it didn’t work.  All too soon the tent was packed and it was time to leave, we doubted if anyone else on the site was awake, although there soon would be if we didn’t take our barking dog away!

The walk up Cardingmill Valley starts gentle enough, neither AM nor I were particularly looking forward to this bit, so we set off at a slow plodding pace, surprisingly we reached our goal virtually without stopping and felt very pleased with our grit and determination.  All three of us collapsed on our sacks at the top.  But all too soon it was time to go otherwise we’d never get anywhere, up and onto the Port Way, over Pole Bank, with a stop to admire the view before getting to Pole Cottage, where it was time for breakfast/elevenses.  Since leaving the valley we had not seen another person now three people approached over the heather from the direction of Bridges, two lads and their leader training for the Long Mynd Hike.  After that there were people everywhere, we had had an early start but now others were out on the open moor too.  We could clearly see the hill with the tower which we could see wasn’t a tower but a mast with many satellite dishes on it!

Extracts from AM's diary

The Long Mynd is a large moorland plateau, Pole bank is the summit at a height of 1696 feet.  The top is covered with heather and is bleak, barren and treeless, a typical grouse moor.  The eastern side (Church Stretton) is incised with steep-sided valleys, locally known as batches or hollows, which allow “easy” access to the top.  The north west side of the Long Mynd slopes gently down to rise again at the Stiperstones on the other, south western edge the land drops away very sharply – ideal for gliding!

Next port of call (along the Port Way – pun ha ha!) was the glider club, the right of way is straight through the clubs take off area and so when they are using it they prefer walkers to take what is probably a more scenic, if less historic, route around the contours of the hill and away from launching gliders.  The gliding club has been here for over 60 years and was very useful during the Second World War.

The Port Way is an ancient Bronze Age track across the Long Mynd (which I think must link up with the Kerry Ridgeway), it is said to have many barrows and other ancient tumuli along its length.  Occasionally prehistoric Bronze Age tools have been found along it and over forty burial mounds are apparently still detectable within a few yards of the route.  It would later have been used by the Welsh drovers taking their cattle, pigs, sheep and geese out of Wales to the English markets – sometimes animals were walked as far as London before being sold.  The drovers used the route from Plowden on the west side of the Long Mynd to Robin Hood’s Butts a tumuli in the middle of the plateau, then down through Woolaston to the Pound at Leebotwood on the eastern end of the hill.

It was certainly scenic and very interesting, it was a wonderful mornings walk finishing by dropping downhill passed some fairy rings (why do they never photograph properly?) to the A489, the narrow lane leading to the A489 is one of the Millenium Bicycle Ways leading (very steeply) up onto the Long Mynd and into Church Stretton.  We followed the main road a very short distance before turning off and after crossing the River Onny we stopped for lunch.  Not far now to Lydbury North and our campsite for the night, but first of all a long plod uphill and then along a road for about two miles.  Lydbury North is a small hamlet on the B4285 boasting a bus stop, church, garage, and village stores with Post Office, the lady in the village stores treated us with a little bit of suspicion which probably increased when I later made a second visit for all the things we forgot the first time!  There is also a public house with a campsite and no other apparent claim to fame.

Or is there…Edric Savage was lord of the manor of Ledbury North as well as holding estates all over Herefordshire, Shropshire and Wales and though his main estates were in south west Shropshire, the Long Mynd, the Stiperstones and Clun Forest.  Many of these manors were noted to be in Norman hands when the Doomsday Book was compiled in 1087, mostly held by Ralph Mortimer of Wigmore.  This was after “Edric the Wild and the Welsh rose in revolt and attacked the garrison at Hereford and inflicted heavy losses on them” according to the version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle kept at Worcester.  Edric held Shropshire against the Conqueror for three years but made peace with him in 1070.  In 1075 there was a rebellion led by Roger, Earl of Hereford which Edric may have joined.  He tried to hold Wigmore for Roger because a chronicle of the 15^th century tells us that, Sir Ralph Mortimer “by the power of his sword” won Edric’s lands after besieging him in Wigmore castle and handing Edric over to the King in chains.  The King condemned him to perpetual imprisonment.

Edric Wild (in Latin sylvaticus, the forest man or the savage) known today as Wild Edric, was “so named from his bodily activity and his rollicking talk and deeds”.  Wild Edric became the focus on many traditions and legends, appearing as a portent of war, riding over the hills in the direction of the enemy’s country, last seen on a white horse at the head of a band with his wife, Lady Godda beside him in 1853 or ’54 just before the outbreak of the Crimean War.  Lady Godda was reputed to have been a fairy and they had a son, Alnod.  Ledbury North is today known as Lydbury North.  (Extracts from Albion, A Guide to Legendary Britian by Jennifer Westwood, Granada Publishing, 1985).

AM had not complained about her ankles once all day and was in a much more cheerful frame of mind than yesterday.  We had all enjoyed the day’s walk, there had been nothing unpleasant underfoot, the hill had been considerably easier than expected, the views more magnificent, the company pleasant and finish came early.  We all felt relaxed and refreshed when we visited the pub for an early dinner and one or two pints.  Then off to bed for an early night.

Day 6

Lydbury North to Knighton

20 Miles

Another early start, quite cool this morning but pleasant as we set off out of Lydbury North along the B4385 before turning left onto a green road.  We then turned onto a tarmac road and headed uphill and uphill and uphill, it must have been the longest hill of the walk and AM and I weren’t expecting it – it went on and on and just when you thought the top was in sight you turned a corner and there was more!  The very top was Bury Ditches, an iron age fort or such like and we didn’t get there, the route for Jack Mytton turned off a little way before the summit and we were too lazy to even contemplate going to the top!  Our guide book suggested “If you are able to, it is well worth taking the short walk uphill to the fort” we liked the “if you are able to”…!  I have since learnt that it is considered to have one of the most spectacular views in Shropshire and having made the effort to get to the top on another occasion (having driven up the hill in the car and not having a heavy rucksack it was a doddle!) I quite agree.  We were now on a track through a pine forest which had lots of converging paths, we played spot the long distance path with Wild Edric’s and the Shropshire Way being the most common!  Wild Edric lived in the area and was the leader of an Anglo-Welsh revolt against the Normans in 1069-70, and whenever war was about to break out he and his followers are reputed to ride across the Stiperstones.  It is said that Wild Edric and his family can be heard mining underground the lead that was mined here.

Along this track Ky started limping and hanging back, our hearts sank to our boots as he looked very unhappy- was he ill or just tired out.  We encouraged him to catch up and he would and then hung back again, he was obviously trying to keep up but appeared not to have the energy- a little effort and a burst of energy and he was in front only to drop back again.  Eventually after many stops whilst his nose investigated bits of his body he pulled out a sticky bud from under his back leg.  He was now (for a little while) much happier and away he went.  This didn’t last long and he stopped mid track hanging his head.  There was obviously something seriously wrong.  I held his head collar while Chris had a good feel of his paws, legs, back and front and then the undercarriage and he found to his horror a mass of sticky buds, probably as big as a tennis ball, all stuck to the inside of one back leg- it must have been very painful.  It was going to be even more painful getting them out of his fur.  The first aid scissors were used and Ky only bared his teeth at me once in earnest - can’t say I blame him – the thought brought tears to my eyes – however once vet Chris had finished there was liberal dollops of tail wagging and licks so we knew his problems had been solved – but how did they get there in the first place – well he is a show off and cocks his leg as high as he possibly can – one day it will be so high he’ll fall over!

AM, Chris & Ky

We all enjoyed a pleasant walk through the pine forest with tantalising bits of view from time to time, the track merged into a green lane where we stopped for lunch, yesterday the bread buns had been soft with a mouth watering smell of new baked bread, today they did not appear so appetising without butter, but they served to fill us up with home baked ham and other goodies.  We felt like we had the whole day for not doing very much as we were sure to get to Llanfair Waterdine before dark and to find a campsite for the night – it wasn’t that far to go.

Reluctantly we packed up our lunch things and set off in the direction of Clun which we soon spotted between the trees, it was much nearer than we had thought.  We passed the YHA and Almhouses where we had a disagreement as to which way we should go – the leaflets gave a long description to the centre of the village whilst the signpost pointed the way.  In the end Chris won and took us the long way round!

AM and I made a beeline for the local Spar and stocked up on goodies, Chris was grumbling that we had gone the wrong way and tempers got a little frayed.  Soon our differences were sorted out and we headed down hill to the little humped back bridge which is the main A488 through the village.  We stopped here for ice creams in the rain and to watch a young heron fishing in the river not 20 feet away from us and Ky.  Clunton and Clubury, Clungunford and Clun, are the quietest places under the sun so wrote AE Houseman only today it was raining!

Off again this time uphill (and we had worried about the walk up on to the Long Mynd – just as well we didn’t know about the hill to come, and come and come and…).  Before leaving the village, a gentleman stopped Chris who was ahead of us and talked about Ky’s panniers.  Apparently his dog has a set too and finds them very comfortable and gets excited when they are brought out, there was some discussion about the merits of netting over solid fabrics, a pat for Ky and good wishes for ourselves and we were off again, our next companion was a border collie who had been asleep in his front garden and decided a long walk was just what he wanted, it took us a long time to persuade him to go home!   On several occasions we thought we had reached the top – but hadn’t, the guide said that we would walk along the road from Clun to the cross roads for two miles – it didn’t say anything about it being uphill ALL THE WAY!  Eventually we came to the cross roads where we joined Offa’s Dyke and had a well earned rest before setting off along a farm track, through Burfield Farm, across a field where we collected water from the stream for a brew and into the next field which appeared to have no cows and was therefore suitable for a lunch stop.  Or was it afternoon tea?

We spread out to one side of the track, lit the stove, made coffee and then all hell broke loose.  Horses seemed to be galloping about all over the place, loose ones and ones with riders and two bicycles thrown in for good measure.  We were asked if the loose horse was ours as it was driven into the field in front of the four ridden horses who then galloped off down the track.  I’m not quite sure what happened to the two people on the bikes – it was all a bit unnerving sitting on the ground in such close proximity of flailing horses’ hooves.   However, no harm was done except we were a bit nervous of the one loose horse which galloped madly round the field for a bit before calming down in a far corner.

It was a day of many stops and before long lunch was over and it was time to go.  Through fields and back onto Offa’s Dyke the Dyke of which could be seen on the left.  We soon met up with the actual Dyke which we followed for a couple of miles before dropping down and veering off to Llanfair Waterdine.  Halfway down the hill we stopped and tried to work out where we were in relation to Knighton but no conclusive agreement was reached.

A couple of miles back we had agreed to camp at Llanfair Waterdine if we could find somewhere, as we felt it would be doing too much to go onto Knighton today, a total distance of 20 miles when the most we had walked in one day had been 14.  But it now looked like we had plenty of time to get to Knighton before dark and anyway we would have another pow-wow once we got to Llanfair Waterdine.

On the way down the lane, we met a farmer coming up on his 4x4, he stopped and explained his wife was coming behind with a large flock of sheep so instead of going down the lane would we detour through the field, there was a gate at each end.  Chris, AM and Ky set off along the field hedge but for some reason the farmer started talking to me, he was quite interesting, talked about our dog and his own, the best way to get through a herd of sheep (this seems to change depending on who you talk to and I don’t think anyone has the right answer!), and also Offa’s Dyke, which runs through some of his land.  He has farmed here all his life so in some ways the Dyke isn’t anything special to him, but he appreciated some of the problems it poses.  Walkers want to walk actually on the Dyke itself rather than beside it – that is what they have come to do and see but because of the large numbers walking it, especially this close to Knighton there are large problems with erosion, he didn’t know what the answer was.  He didn’t seem to mind that he had two long distance paths crossing his land and certainly didn’t object to us.

The sheep passed along the track and it was time for me to catch up with Chris and AM.  We walked briskly down to Llanfair Waterdine (AM’s ankle problems had obviously been solved) where we all posed on the bridge for our photographs.  We then settled down in a gateway to make a brew, only to be disturbed by the ladies which had been sitting in the field, by the river asking us to move once we had got the kettle on the Trangia, why couldn’t they ask before, oh no too busy yapping.  They were looking after the four horses we had met earlier in the day while their horse box was fetched.  Tempers got a little frayed at their inconsideration.  Eventually one of the ladies who had been riding the horses apologised for yet again disturbing our “picnic” – not really her fault on this occasion and her apology was accepted.

Whilst drinking our brew we discussed whether or not to walk on into Knighton, it was still earlyish and only four miles to where we knew there was a goodish campsite.  We decided to go for it, even though earlier in the day I had said to Chris that I didn’t think any of us were capable of walking 20 miles in one day with heavy sacks on.  AM and Chris amused themselves to start with by picking handfuls of hazelnuts, AM’s pockets were soon full but Chris kept picking them, AM and I seemed to be striding along but Chris got slower and slower his usual moan about walking on tarmac.

Having said that we arrived at the Campsite only 1 ¼ hours after leaving Llanfair Waterdine, it seemed like today we were flying not walking!  On route we discussed the possibility of getting the train home tonight rather than camping and AM had kept busy phoning Railtrack or whatever as we kept changing our minds.  We found there was a train in the middle of the evening so on arriving at the campsite we plodded on into Knighton – by the scenic if longer route over the railway bridge and beside the river.  We felt rather glad we weren’t stopping as the campsite was deserted and by the length of the grass it looked like no one had camped there for some time.  We don’t really understand this because the first time we used it, it had been really busy and the second time just as busy.  Last time when we were doing Glyndwr’s Way we were the only people on it yet it’s a really useful campsite just out of Knighton, the facilities are not brilliant but clean and adequate and not over expensive right on Offa’s Dyke – strange that it was empty.

We headed by an indirect route through the back streets of Knighton to the railway station and as we had about two hours to wait for the train, we asked the landlady of the pub opposite the station if she would mind a wet dog – she didn’t so we celebrated our achievement over a couple of well deserved best bitter!

We had journeyed through much varied landscape, from the south west corner of Shropshire to the extreme south eastern corner, from undulating farmland to the wooded escarpments of Wenlock Edge, through more farmland with higher hills, onto the plateau of the Long Mynd, back down into farmland with wooded valleys, through busy towns of Much Wenlock and Church Stretton and small villages such as Lydbury North and Clun, quiet hamlets like Tickerton, then back up onto open moorland when we joined Offa’s Dyke.  We had explored old industrial sites now reclaimed by nature.  We walked on metalled roads, disused railways, on pleasant and not so pleasant wood and forest rides, rough tracks and open moorland but we never left the same country we started in – Shropshire proving that it is one of England’s most attractive counties.

Ronnie at the end of the walk