Yesterday we woke to the first hard frost of the year. When I looked out of the bathroom window to the top of the town, there was a cascade of white cottage roofs instead of the usual grey slate. And all glistening too…
Because best of all, there was also sun. SUN by god – and the weather people’s promise it would stay all day. What a gift. After weeks of rain between gloom and deluge, plus a stint of accompanying coughs and sneezes, I knew we should go out and make the most of it in one of Shropshire’s most majestic spots.
To Bury Ditches, says I. We can take a packed lunch. And so we did.
It’s only a five minute drive from our house, but up a very steep hill. For us unseasoned walkers, it’s too far to go on foot. The hillfort lies in Forestry Commission land, which means there is a car park, but the path to it rises further still above ‘monolithic’ stands of conifer, lit up here and there by the odd bright oak, or the orange haze of wintering larch.
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The morning sun had melted much of the frost, though it lingered in the verge shadows and in the valley bottoms. The air was absolutely still. So still, and so utterly silent, it seemed the world had stopped. It was a fine moment to come upon an ancestor, albeit one, turned to wood. What kind of magic was this?
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When we reached the hillfort, I tried to capture some idea of how it looks on the landscape, the scale of the ramparts – huge but nonetheless much diminished after 2,000 years of weathering. But it’s always impossible – the light not right, the site too overgrown, the earthworks ill-defined. And then there is the problem of the enclosed ground: all quite featureless; a great expanse of rough pasture, with nothing to fix on, or frame.
Here’s an artist’s reconstruction of the site, then a couple of my rampart shots.
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For some better hillfort views than I could manage, please have a look at Virtual Shropshire’s page on Bury Ditches.
And so what are we left with? A sense of place, of space, the commanding views, the resonating mystery of who exactly built these monumental structures over 2 millennia ago. They are found across the uplands of Great Britain and yet we know so little about them. Some of course have been excavated and yield signs of village settlement inside (Castell Henllys). Some also revealed evidence of siege (e.g. Maiden Castle). Others seemed to have been simply places of refuge in times of war. Or perhaps also gathering places for festivals and markets. But the big disadvantage of hilltop refuges is they usually lack easy access to fresh water.
One thing we can say: these places were hugely important to the ruling hierarchies of the Iron Age people who built them. Imagine the man and woman hours involved, digging into bedrock with bone and antler picks and mattocks (for at this time iron, a scarce and valuable commodity, was reserved for the making of prestige weaponry not tools), heaving loads of earth in precipitous locations where horses and carts could scarcely serve the purpose. Yet…And yet…when freshly excavated in limestone country, or better still on chalk, the ramparts of these forts would have looked marvellous, glistening white on the skyline; visible for miles.
So if I couldn’t quite bring you a hillfort, here are the vistas we enjoyed, looking out, this after perching in a heather clump to eat our packed lunch. Herewith Shropshire and the Welsh borderland:
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By 2 o’clock the sun’s warmth was gone, the remnant frost creeping back, fingering parts not properly wrapped up. We were glad to stride back to the car. A five minute drive home and we were by the log fire with a cup of tea. Such a little journey and yet we had been transported to another world and time. Passports not needed. Only willing hearts and minds and a small car.
Beautiful photos, Tish.
Thanks, Mak.
so beautiful, tish
Thank you, Beth.
And on the flip side of this chilly but lovely post…
Temperatures have been in the mid to upper thirties these past few days. And to top it all a local substation went on the fritz, and according to the update we received the back up generator the repair crew hauled out to help blew up!l, leaving at least three entire suburbs without electricity.
Do you have any idea what it’s like even to contemplate a warm beer on a day like today at our spot when the mercury rose to 37c?
Criminal, I tell you!
🙂
Oh, Ark. I’m hugging my chilly knees, wishing you some coldness. Bummer about the power though.
It came back at around 7 this evening.
However…. there will be more load shedding in the morning
*Sigh*
Tish, I feel transported as well after reading your latest. It’s a part of the world I hope to see someday. Meanwhile, appreciating our first snow of the season in southeast Wisconsin.
Thank you for that lovely comment, Mary. And first snow – it always seems romantic. But then…
Thank you so much for those great views of the hill fort. We are surrounded by oaks, so I know well and love that golden bronzy color. Sometimes, when the oaks along a waterway turn that color, it looks as it the water is made of gold. It’s a magic moment.
Wonderful pictures, wonderful golden times. Almost (but not quite) as good as being there.
The oaks have been especially vivid this year. They made lots of big leaves in our cool and damp summer, so now we get the pay-off in gold 🙂
Marvellous. A rather exciting and satisfying day, I’d say. No frost here int’ frozzen north yet. Maybe tonight?
We’ve returned to damp and dreary today, but several degrees warmer. In fact my PC says ‘very humid’ in the bottom left-hand corner – not the kind of weather bulletin one expects in late November. The locals tell us BC is a particularly chilly place in winter, our street at times used as a ski slope! Thermal vests all round, methinks.
Yup, definitely thermal time here.
Thank you, Tish, for taking me on this adventure with you. I loved your narrative and images. Most of all, I have this image of you and your husband sitting near the fire, drinking hot tea after a wonderful day!
So happy you could join us, Anne 🙂
Super post, Tish
Thank you, Ian.
Excellent idea to go out and make the most of the weather, Tish! I think you had a rather Grand Day Out.
That’s is, Sue. It was a Grand Day Out.
I’m pleased to hear that
What fab views and golden leaves. And SUN! Not been much of that down here, but no frost either. We haven’t been to Bury Ditches, is that close to Clun?
Hello, Jude. Lovely to hear from you. Yes, Bury Ditches is in a sort of hinterland between BC and Clun, (not far from Lydbury North) very much off the beaten track. It’s one of those sorts of places that only manifests itself once you’ve found it; access to the car park via very narrow lanes through ancient small settlements.
Wonderful!
Thanks, Jennie.
You’re welcome!
I relate to your enthusiasm for the sunshine after some dark days. Great photos.
The dull days have been a bit much, haven’t they. We’re promised another shot of sun on Wednesday 🙂
Sun and glistening frost on rooftops.. magical combination ✨️ 😍
Many thanks, Athena 🙂
” the ramparts of these forts would have looked marvellous, glistening white on the skyline; visible for miles.”
I’d never visualized them as such before and something that could be done now with visual effects, hologrammed maybe just temporarily. Thanks you for this uplifting post – a couple of those photos had this weary wintry heart soaring
So glad to hear that some of the pix gave you a big lift, Laura. It’s been a gloomy and soggy autumn so far. Hard to keep one’s spirits up. I’m pleased too to provide a new vision of hillforts. Once you picture them in this way, it somehow changes the landscape – past and present.
I love your forays into the history that surrounds you everywhere and, of course, your lovely photos. That wooden man is marvelous as are the views and ending a sunny, chilly day with a cup of tea sounds just perfect to me.
janet
Many thanks, Janet. I’m so pleased my forays give you pleasure too. An added bonus, of course, to the day out 🙂
Glorious exploration! How lovely the weather permitted the lovely walk and these captures. That person turned tree is such a find!
Thank you, Ju-Lyn. It was the most extraordinary day. The weather gods gave us a big present.
I do feel for you Trish! But I must say I do love a frosty morning.
Many thanks, Ana Maria.