Coast to Coast – Norfolk to Wales 4

Across the Top of Shropshire

My carefully planned route now took me across the narrowest and least scenic segment of this otherwise broad and beautiful county, but even this short and suboptimal stumble encompassed a wild and woolly marshland reserve, a miniature Lake District, a pretty canal and a branch of Greggs. Not necessarily in order of importance.

But first, after reluctantly parting from kind Ali and her lovely family, I found myself at Loggerheads…


But in a good way – Loggerheads is an actual village, still in Staffordshire, just about.

My gear was dry, I’d been generously stuffed with healthy granola and it wasn’t raining; on any one of these grounds I’d have felt quite light-hearted as I stumbled along the last of the Staffordshire footpaths – surely Shropshire’s couldn’t be any worse?


This pretty plantation was positively pleasant.


Through the fields of barley, which were dry, so not too bad. The twig caught in my poles is from an overgrown stile that had taken some finding in the hedge.


Footpath getting a bit obscure now, through a maze of maize.


That well-known Way!


I may have been on the well-known Newcastle Way, but Staffordshire still had one more trick up its sleeve. It says this stile was installed by The Ramblers, I bet they’re annoyed.


Poignant memorial overlooking the pool at Wharf.

Near the village of Wharf there’s a series of strange pools, one overlooked by a steep drop. A tragedy had recently occurred here, judging by the garden plants and the pile of mementos at the foot of a tree. I couldn’t help wondering whether these might be more helpful if they were kept indoors for future reference, rather than being left outdoors to fall apart in the rain, but then so far I haven’t lost a loved one, so what do I know? Ultimately though, caches like this always end up resembling a pile of litter which isn’t the look I’d personally choose for my own memorial.

Finally here I entered Shropshire, passing under the Shropshire Union Canal and into Market Drayton, where there isn’t much happening on a Sunday morning apart from campanology. In fact the large church of what’s obviously at some point been a wealthy town was full of sound, much of it mixed on a desk far more complicated than the one George Martin would have used to record Sergeant Pepper. There were multiple PowerPoint screens as well. ‘Oh yes, you don’t need a hymn book here’ said an elderly usher proudly, perhaps hoping this game-changing simplification of religious observance would lure me in.

Even though it was now once again pouring with rain, I managed to resist and went instead to a slightly bizarre traditional tea shop run by two quite large men who could barely fit together behind the tiny counter and didn’t seem especially pleased to be working on the Sabbath. Their speciality seemed to be raising the activity and noise levels of small children to fever pitch with ‘luxury hot chocolate’ confections about a foot high. I drank my weak lukewarm latte then slummed it into Greggs for a stash of pies as I couldn’t find anywhere more artisanal. Judging by the coffee that may have been a blessing.


Gestural architecture.

Shropshire is a properly rural county with only 136 people per km², which is similar to Norfolk’s 155/km² although Norwich and its suburbs account for nearly 400,000 of those. It is large and, unlike Norfolk, has lots and lots of public footpaths. It has no cities and its economy is small. You can imagine what this adds up to in terms of path maintenance.


Oh dear…

At Bletchley it was completely impossible to find the footpath around a recent commercial development and it was a relief to stumble upon the stately Castle Inn on the A41. They were gearing up for a busy Sunday lunch session, the car park was rapidly filling with Jags and Audis and everyone getting out of them was smartly dressed. Still, they didn’t seem to mind me lurking grubbily in a corner with a swift refreshing pint.

I was then supposed to avoid the road via another obscure path alongside it, but as a tractor was at that moment cutting the verge I just walked along that instead.


On this relatively quiet Sunday morning a main road actually provided an interlude of pleasant walking.


Then it was back onto a public footpath…

At Prees Lower Heath I simply could not find a public footpath off the B5065 that was clearly marked on the map. Zooming in the GPS I took a best guess but I ended up in a maze of game rearing pens. Every time I tiptoed around a shed thousands of young birds were panic-stricken at my appearance, crashing about in the pens like mad things. I felt so sorry for them but was also worried for me – if anybody had observed this fiasco they’d have been justifiably upset.


Hundreds and hundreds of frightened young gamebirds in a maze of huge pens!

I didn’t mean to frighten the poor birds and just one visible ‘public footpath’ sign might have saved them from disturbance. Eventually I found my way through the maze and back onto Shropshire’s finest rights of way…c2c-shropshire-hedge-path-overgrown


This is, seriously, a public footpath.


By now, in case you’re wondering why I haven’t moaned about them for a while, most of my blisters were better. Unfortunately though I’d managed a particularly large one particularly incompetently. On the top of my left big toe I had now a bloody open wound the size of a 10p piece. All I could do was pile dressings onto it, but in the wet weather nothing would stay stuck on for more than a few hours.

By this point in the journey there were long periods each day when every time I put my left foot down sweat literally popped from my brow with the pain; an extraordinary sensation I can still powerfully recall a year later.


I was hoping that if I sat down by a nursing home to change my dressings a nurse might appear…


At least Shropshire had some pretty red stone churches to distract me.c2c-shropshire-red-stone-church

Also, in the rain that had now restarted, a variety of riveting spectator sports…c2c-whixall-bowling-club

This was actually quite a long day, more than my habitual 30 km daily target, and I began to be quite interested in finding somewhere to kip down.


I envied this sheep its cosy barn.

Unfortunately the plan showed that before bedtime I was still supposed to be taking a scenic and educational diversion around Whixall  Moss, a legendary nature reserve and historical site. It was actually a great relief to find that Whixall Moss was more like Whixall Mere, because the flooded conditions got me out of walking round the history trail.


I’d say they definitely do need a ‘water management scheme’ here.

Instead I just trudged onto and along the towpath of the Llangollen Canal which seemed altogether more bijou than the bigger, more industrially oriented Trent and Mersey.


This section of the towpath forms part of an actually quite well known Way.


Complete with bijou bridges.


It was a bit drier here and there was hardly anyone about.


You get a view of the Moss from the towpath, it’s a wild and woolly looking place alright and famous for dragonflies.


I was so tired and footsore that in the end I just plonked the bivy down rather informally on the towpath. A couple of dog walkers laughingly said hello as I bedded down, but after that I had the place all to myself.

By the way, if you zoom in the map at the top of this post you’ll see that completely unbeknownst to me at the time I was actually sleeping in Wales! The canal at this point slices across a small protruding triangle of the Principality.


A rather public campsite! And in Wales to boot.

When I awoke at midnight I felt quite smug; it hadn’t rained and my gear was bone dry. I went back to sleep. In the small hours it started to rain. Heavily.


Into Wales


Oh joy, I must be in Wales because everything is wet again.


A mere indeed. Probably Blake Mere.

Ellesmere lies at the heart of a sort of Shropshire Lake District with not just one but multiple meres. I diverted onto the main road in hope of refreshment and was not disappointed; there was a lovely big mereside café with hot coffee, great cakes and spacious well-appointed loos for a bit of hikers’ housekeeping. I then headed back up onto the castle mound which was adorned with thousands of orchids.


Ellesmere is quite a pretty town in places and there were lots of orchids on the castle mound.

It was then back to the stern business of hiking. It had rained torrentially between four and six on the morning so the lanes and footpaths were particularly moist. Here are a few of the more amusing ones…




Moist indeed.


The epitome of moist


The forecast is – moist


The acme and apotheosis of moist


As moist a footpath as anything on the Hebridean Way.

It was a relief to get onto a bit of slightly higher ground.

Nettles like slightly higher ground…


Seriously, some of the nettles on this footpath were taller than me.


It was a relief to get out of the nettles onto more open ground…


Quiet suddenly, as I came to the brow of a small rise, I saw something amazing. In the distance, as if at the end of a long, straight road, there were hills.

The hills of Wales, no less.


Either someone has painted a theatrical backdrop onto the sky, or that’s Wales over there…

I was so excited I came over quite hungry. Luckily at St Martins I found an excellent pub, The Keys, where despite it being only about eleven-thirty they served me a slap up meal involving a large pie, copious chips and lashings of beer.


There’s only one way to the pub…

It was then a case of pushing through some woods on a well-known (and suspiciously Welsh-sounding) Way…c2c-shropshire-woody-footpath


…until I returned to the pretty Llangollen Canal, which had in the meantime taken a big diversion to the south.c2c-canal-shropshire


There’s something about a watercourse that brings out character.

After a short while on this towpath I arrived at the Chirk aqueduct…

…at the far end of which, after nearly thirteen days of walking, there was a rather momentous development…


It seems the Welsh spare no expense on their welcomes.

→ Episode 5. Denbighshire


  1. Maybe the passage of the intervening year has allowed you to look back with humour but you’ve really had bad luck on this section: overgrown footpaths, flooded footpaths, flooded roads, poor signage and painful feet. Onwards.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh well, at least on this hike I didn’t have to climb up any mountains.
      Ah. Hang on…


  2. Brenda · · Reply

    I really look forward to seeing your blog and reading about your adventures as seen in retrospect. As with your daily fb updates a year ago, I am following this with an open OS map beside me. Chapters 3 and 4 pass very close to where we used to live, so the locations are very familiar. Lunch at The Blythe Inn, days out birding to the Mosses and Ellesmere, learning to fly just south of there. Looking forward to the Welsh (rare) bit!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you! Since you kindly wrote this comment I’ve worked out, with only a small amount of bad language, how to embed a Google Map in my blogs. I did feel that without map of some sort the geography of this whole blunder was a bit baffling. The Blythe Inn is a wonderful place, I just hope it survives this very difficult time somehow. I’ve already heard that one of the best pubs on the Pennine Way won’t be reopening 😦


  3. sue woodcock · · Reply

    Wonderful Andrew, really enjoy reading your blogs x

    Sent from Samsung Mobile on O2
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    Liked by 1 person

    1. Aw, thanks very much! It’s taken me long enough to get around to it!


  4. I’m so glad you are doing this trip, if only to warn other walkers away from the footpaths you have used. I use the word Footpaths very loosely. As for the Welsh signs, maybe it has something to do with having to say everything twice!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I loved this post and felt for you. I do like Shropshire and we’ve had some wonderful,walking there – days in the hills without meeting another soul, and some awful ones with non-existent footpaths. Your photos look familiar! It’s the only place I’ve ever written to the Footpaths officer (but then I’m told the council is full of landowners who don’t like footpaths …)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Ruth for visiting and commenting. Yes it’s a wonderful county although I think most hikers stick to the hills further south, I have another post somewhere on here about a trip to the Long Mynd etc. All County Councils are strapped for cash at the moment too which can’t help.


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