Sunday afternoon, and the sudden need for fresh horizons spurred us out the door to explore parts of Wenlock Edge we cannot reach on foot from the house. The escarpment, wooded for the most part, is some twenty miles long, and though crisscrossed from end to end with paths and bridleways, we are not committed walkers of the long-distance variety, more amblers than ramblers. The expedition thus required a short car sprint ā along the Edge from Much Wenlock and a sharp turn left in Longville-in-the-Dale for Wilderhope Manor. This Tudor mansion sits above Hope Dale, its back to the Edge. It is owned by the National Trust but run by the Youth Hostel Association, and its car park is handy for a number of cross-country paths.
The house was built in the 1580s for one Francis Smallman and it was a Smallman scion, Major Thomas Smallman, who, during the Civil War (1642-51, Charles 1 versus Oliver Cromwell) performed a feat of dashing bravery. He was a staunch Royalist and when he learned that the Roundhead army was approaching Wilderhope he mounted his horse and headed for Shrewsbury, a dozen miles away, to warn the Royalist forces there.
The Roundheads followed, and in a bid to escape them, the Major and horse took a flying leap off Wenlock Edge. Sadly the horse did not survive the 200 foot drop, but by a stroke of luck the Majorās fall was broken by a wild cherry tree (or apple tree depending on which version you read). He thus completed his mission on foot, rousing the Royalist forces who launched an attack at Wilderhope. The Major apparently bequeathed us his ghostly presence, said to be seen by some still plunging over the precipice on horseback. The supposed spot, āMajorās Leapā, is now a popular viewpoint.
But enough dawdling. Back to the walk. We had decided to follow a 2 mile stretch of the Jack Mytton Way which itself is a 70-mile foot and cycle path named after another local personality, Mad Jack Mytton, a somewhat surprising association for a facility promoting healthful pursuits. Mytton, born into wealthy Shropshire squirearchy in 1796, died in Southwark debtorsā prison at the age of 37, a drunken, spendthrift, philanderinā, huntinā, roisterinā rake of the first water who, it is said, claimed to have seen a mermaid in the River Severn. Not following in his footsteps then!
The path from Wilderhope starts off on the farm drive, passing through pasture and a very fine herd of Hereford-Friesian cattle who gave us the once over as we passed.
Then it was across the lane into the wheat field. This (and the header view) is Hope Dale looking from Wenlock Edge with Corve Dale and the Clee Hills in the distance
At the field boundary the path heads into Coats Wood, and the rest of our walk to Roman Bank is under dappled shade: oak, ash, beech, an ancient yew, field maple, holly, birch, lime, rowan, the odd sycamore, and many coppiced hazel trees. The woods that covered all of Wenlock Edge in ancient times were a valuable resource for fuel gathering, timber cutting and stock grazing and, in the Middle Ages every township within a mile of the Edge (most of Saxon origin) had common rights there.
Coppicing is the ancient practice of cutting a treeās main trunk so encouraging the growth of multiple upright stems. These were used in hurdle making for fencing in farmstock, stakes for hedge laying, for bean poles, basket making, and in early times before forges and furnaces ran on coke, to make charcoal. These days coppicing has been re-introduced in a bid to manage woodland sprawl and encourage the re-establishment of dormouse populations.
It was mid-afternoon by the time we retraced our steps. There was a sense of somnolent wildlife stirring. (All had been silent on the outward meander). Blackbirds were bobbing about in the leaf litter, and overhead we heard ravens cronking. Then as I was surveying an area of coppiced hazel, I found two roe deer looking back at us. They melted away ā woodland ghosts. But the fleeting glimpse made us glad we had stirred ourselves to take a trip out, this even though we had managed to miss lunch and were by then very hungry. But even that was catered for. On the Wilderhope Manor drive we found a wild cherry tree hanging in delicious dark fruit, and later I wondered if the National Trust had planted the it as a reminder of Major Smallman’s heroic leap. And next there were apples, astonishingly early, but all the better for being scrumped.
copyright 2020 Tish Farrell
Tish Farrell 
The words and the photos are beautiful. My family’s crest has the motto “over fork over”. Our ancestor hid the king under hay during a time of contested succession. We find the motto ideal to bring up at dinner. š
What a great piece of family saga, Rebecca š
Thanks, Cromwell didn’t like our family much, though. So we hopped to the other side of the pond. š
A difficult chap, I gather š
What wonderful and varied photos. Those poppies in front of the wheat field? Stunning.
Many thanks, Judy. They were very obliging poppies.
what a lovely walk, Tish! and the vista is breathtaking! love the poppies shot! š š
Thank you, Lola. We are very lucky to live in such a beautiful county.
So beautiful, Tish -exactly what I like – thank you š
So glad you enjoyed this.
Very interesting read.
Cheers, Rich.
Oh, fab walk! Reading your post, and the word Hope, Hope under Dinmore sprang to mind….nowhere near The Edge, I guess
In the next county, not far from Leominster. So pleased you liked the walk.
Ah, I used to drive via Ledbury and Leominster a good few decades ago….
That’s a very nice piece of England too. Ledbury is a lovely little town, Leominster more work-a-day but still interesting.
Yes, I vaguely recall them
Good photos and a very pretty place to take a walk.
Thanks, Beverly.
What a lovely walk. I quite agree about the need for new horizons. We drove a few miles yesterday so we could climb up a different hill. One we can see from ‘ours’ š The OH used to work at Wildehope in the ’70s.
Oh goodness. Did he ever meet the ghost of the girl who screamed?
I will ask him.
No. He doesn’t know about her. And he hasn’t seen the major either š
Apparently the screaming girl appears up close, and just when you’re coming to terms with that fright, she screams loudly. Definitely a sighting to be avoided.
Yikes. Not sure I’d want to stay in that YH! Have you heard about the female ghost who inhabits the Dingle? Mrs Foxall was burned at the stake there in 1647 for murdering her husband. Seems Shropshire has a few ghosts!
No. Didn’t know about her. What a horrifying demise.
Picture perfect cornfield and poppies, Tish! š š
Thank you, Jo,
Great post. Some old history there. Fantastic images.
Thank you, Pete.
Lovely. You make me want to run back to Shropshire sometimes! Incidentally, for some unaccountable reason Wenlock Edge itself has always eluded me. On the few occasions I tried to looking for it I just couldn’t find it at all. These were days pre-internet and Google maps obviously.
Ha! Like Platform 13 and a half. I don’t think so much was made of Wenlock Edge back in the day. Now it has so many designations AONB/SSSIs/NT and so much made of its walking paths, and the advent of Land Ranger maps of course where it does feature. When I was looking at some smaller scale maps on line yesterday I found it wasn’t indicated. Perhaps it isn’t really there. Or only sometimes.
Oh I just about felt like I was there in England in the summer. Lovely.
Alison
Happy to provide virtual travel service, ma’am š
Great post and pics!
Thanks, Kendall.
Welcome!
oh this is lovely, and all the better for scrumping!
Thank you, Becky. Nothing like a good scrump š
Such a beautiful country, beautiful landscape! Thank you for the walk, Tish.
Many thanks for taking a stroll with me, Amy.