Monday – Bodenham Lakes – August enters overcast, warm and humid. Ragwort, Ladies Mantle and Willowherbs are still flowering but looking tired. Teasels are now a delicate violet. The cockerel on the hillside crows and a Raven passes overhead, cronking. Further down the track, St Johns Wort is nearly finished, bramble flowers are almost gone but thistles and Centaury are still flowering brightly. There are more Robin’s Pincushions, caused by Gall Wasps, on the roses. A few Sloes are ripe. A small creature rustles through the brambles, maybe a Weasel. An electric blue and black-striped Common Damselfly Enallagma cyathigerum, hovers over brambles, its wings invisible from this distance, so it simply looks like a floating needle. Marmalade Hoverflies, Episyrphus balteatus, swarm around teasel heads. Noise abounds from the orchard corner of the lake as some young (and not so young) people learn to canoe. I am slightly conflicted as their activity disturbs the wildlife, but getting people out and taking part in such activities cannot be a bad thing. From the hide there are the usual suspects – noisy Canada Geese, Mallard, a couple of Mute Swans and Cormorants. Some stones stick out of the water near the island, there is a spit under the water here, and on three stand Grey Herons. Another heron is on the spit, its legs indicate the water is only a few inches deep. A scan of the water reveals Coot and Tufted Duck, but just one of each. Oddly, a second scan shows that there are three Coot, they must have been diving slightly longer than usual. A Common Buzzard circled above Wood, calling persistently. More trees have ripe apples in the eating apple orchard, one is particularly sweet.
Tuesday – Caer Caradoc – A narrow road, Watling Street South, the great Roman road, leads to a path from the outskirts of Church Stretton towards the craggy hogback of Caer Caradoc, a Marilyn standing at 1506 feet. This is one of the sites reputed to be the the last stand of the British Chieften, Caratacus, against the Romans under Publius Ostorius Scapula, although it is unlikely to have happened here. The sun shines intermittently as there are many dark, threatening clouds in the sky. The path runs along the edge of a sheep field, outside of which is a very deep sunken track. To the west the hills of the Long Mynd rise, dappled in sunlight. The earthworks of Bodbury Ring, Iron Age univallate hillfort is clear above Carding Mill Valley. A Common Buzzard mews to the east. Farm houses and a fishing lake lay on the far side of the field. The sun shines and the temperature immediately rises. The path and sunken trackway meet and head toward the gap between Caer Caradoc and Helmeth Hill . The ground is carpeted with Chamomile and its heady scent fills the air. A track enters the valley beside ponds and reed beds. A path crosses the stream to the base of the hill. As always, it seems surprising that this little rill, hardly more than a trickle of water between puddles, has carved out this deep valley over the millennia. The Beech woods are left behind and Hawthorn and bracken takes over. The path rejoins the track. A single head of Ragged Robin, pink flowers which do indeed look ragged, sits in the marshy ground beside the track. I had intended to take an easy, gradual approach to the hill, but the path circumnavigates it, so a direct line is needed.
Straight up a well-worn hillside to an outcrop of rocks. English Stonecrop shelters in niches in these grey stones. Ravens call from above. Steps lead to a gate which is followed by a punishing steep trudge to a summit. These hills are made of Uriconian Volcanics material from around 560 million years ago. A Kestrel hovers high above. Meadow Pipits flit across the bracken and a pair of Magpies sail down the hill. Puffing and blowing like a worn-out shunter I reach a weathered line of boulders called Three Fingers Rock. These are an outcrop of Ragleth Tuffs, volcanic deposits from 544 million years ago. A wide saddle leads up to the next summit. The path undulates but keeps rising until, at last the summit of Caer Caradoc. Surrounded by beds of Bilberries and heathers. Below is the line of a rampart of the Iron Age fort (which may be late Bronze Age in date). The views are stunning despite the haze. To the north the Wrekin stands like a immense pyramid rising from the Shropshire plain. A shower of rain crosses this plain maybe 10 miles away. A freight train passes below looking like the tiniest model railway. The rain passes over Shrewsbury. A Raven glides down the hillside and across the sheep pastures, the sun turning its wings to bronze. The Lawley, another long hogback hill, lies ahead but it is a hill too far today and I turn back. A Wheatear bobs from stony outcrop to heather tussock. Off down the eastern side of the hill. From here the ridges of outcropped tuffs can be seen running across the hill SE to NW. As usual the descent is worse than the climb with my knees complaining painfully. Back to the fields where we skirt a flock of sheep sheltering from the sun under a tree. One of the sheep has an awful cough! I follow the track back to the sunken trackway. There is a notice on the gatepost declaring the track to be a
public road! Unfortunately, sheep have got through a broken fence and are in the sunken roadway. It is fairly chaotic getting Maddy past, who in fairness is doing nothing but still causes panic. When we reach the road, two sheep are still ahead of us, but luckily there is a footpath around a new housing estate so we can avoid driving the sheep further away from the fields.
Thursday – Home – Welcome rain falls. The garden was getting drier and drier. Watering cans help superficially, but only a decent amount of rain really gives the plants what they need. However, plenty of produce is ready for picking – French and Runner beans, peas, courgettes, radishes, lettuce, chillies and capsicums in the greenhouse and soft fruits. The sweet corn stands about five feet high with tasselled cobs, still a bit thin but hopefully they will fill out by the time they ripen. Yesterday I cleared a large patch of brambles and nettles, a rather painful affair despite gloves and a coat which was too thick in the heat! A dead shrub was cut out but hopefully a few live branches off a runner may develop to replace it. The vines needed cutting back yet again, they really have been most prolific this year. Unfortunately, the grapes are very small as usual.
Friday – Mortimer Forest – Clouds dominate the sky although there are blue patches. A Raven flies silently like an indigo-black ghost through the trees. It is quiet, squeaks from tits, coos from Wood Pigeons and suddenly screams from raptors deep in the woods. Jays pass overhead with strangulated squawks. Along the track between the Hayes Park House track and the Iron Age enclosure. Butterflies are few and far between, single numbers of Peacocks, Red Admirals, Gatekeepers, Speckled Wood, a passing white and Ringlets. Lots of Hoverflies surround Ragwort, which is being devoured by Cinnabar moth caterpillars. Bees are also in short supply. Maybe the sun will bring them out. Along the path by the enclosure where Green-veined White and Small Tortoiseshell are added to the butterfly list. Corn Mint is flowering beside the track. Round high above Mary Knoll Valley. Below on a cleared area a russet-red Fallow Deer browses, slipping into a patch of bracken and is hidden from view. Two species of bee, the Red-tailed Bumblebee, Bombus lapidarius and a White-tailed Bumblebee, probably Bombus terrestris are feeding together on a purple thistle head. Hemp Agrimony grows in a large patch on the edge of the valley. I take a path that heads off up the hill and into the conifer plantation. It undulates through the woods over the ridges and furrows made by the rows of conifers. The path emerges onto the track up to High Vinnalls. Finally the top of High Vinnalls is reached. A gentle breeze is welcome. The views of the hills never fail to bring pleasure. I realise that I am steadily climbing them one by one. The top of Caer Caradoc, Tuesday’s ramble, peeps above Wenlock Edge. To the west Hergest Ridge lays across the landscape. Behind me lie the Clee Hills and south to the Malverns. As I return to the track I notice a large lump of concrete with a steel fixing loop in it buried in the grass. I assume this was a fixing point for a steel hawser that held an aerial here, next to the radio relay shack.
Wednesday – Bodenham Lakes – Again a grey sky covers the land. It is quite cool too; where are the hot August days we seem to remember from long ago? Canada Geese gabble and a few whistles and squeaks come from the hedgerows. The patches of algae seem to have diminished. Purple Loosestrife stands tall on the edge of the water. Traveller’s Joy, also called Old Man’s Beard, cloaks bushes with bursting stars of cream blossom. Hawthorns are laden with crimson berries. These Hawthorns are busy with numerous feeding Blue Tits, many young birds, and a few Blackcaps. One Elder already bears purple-black fruit. Cormorants and Canada Geese share the pontoons. A Grey Heron stalks the dry mud at the southern end of the lake. Tufted Duck dive. A pair of Barnacle Geese stand on the island. I pick a decent number of blackberries for a crumble. The sheep are in the orchard. An apple is plucked from a tree – Queen, an Essex apple raised in 1858 in Billericay – and consumed. Not the best flavour but satisfactory.
Friday – Croft – Another grey morning. The pools in Fish Pool Valley are swirled with green algae. Nuthatches pipe and Wood Pigeons coo. Maddy’s coat is blotched green with grass seed. Vermilion berries of Wild Arum brighten the green and brown woodland slopes. The stream that feeds the pond runs through the valley, here through, near the new pumping shed, there is a depression of nettles, saplings and brambles that appears to be an old pool, probably one where the dam has failed and has drained. A small Common Buzzard flies through the trees, softly keening. At the top of the valley where the paths join and split again to climb and encircle Lyngham Vallet, Jays squawk from the trees, noisy but hidden. From the top of Leinthall Common I take the Mortimer Trail north-east. The path crosses the top of Bircher Common with Dionscourt Hill to the north west. Beyond the plain of the River Teme lays before me before rising to the Clee Hills. Titterstone Clee summit is crowned with cloud. A small, twittering flock of Swallows flies through. The path leaves the open common and sheep and passes through bracken and gorse before turning north and crossing the top of a steep defile.
A track heads up into Dionscourt woods. Occasional stones suggest this track may have been cobbled once, however it seems rarely used now and diminishes into a narrow, overgrown path. Into the woods where the track heads downhill in a sunken trackway. A path runs along the edge of the wood past a triangulation point. Below to the east the patchwork of fields, edged with hedges and trees, spreads away into the distance. The dominant hue is the pale gold of ripened grain. There