Stunning Offa
It’s mid August in 2020. Wales has finally opened its borders and English based Terroir has travelled north west, desperate to get back onto Offa’s Dyke. The support vehicle has delivered three of us to the exact point on the Shropshire Union Canal tow path where we ended our walk eight months previously, on a carefree, Covid free, wet and windy January day. Ahead of us lies some 15 miles of the most spectacular walking on the Offa’s Dyke Trail. The weather is hot and our packs are heavy with water and sun block, in addition to the usual supplies. The frisson of expectation is tinged with apprehension. I also have a nasty feeling this blog may get written in the dramatic present tense.
A short walk along the ‘Shroppie’ brings us to the southern end of a UNESCO World Heritage Site: the Pont Cysyllte Aqueduct. This puts this section of the Offa’s Dyke Trail in the company of the City of Bath, Blenheim Palace, the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, Iron Bridge Gorge and, of course the ‘Frontiers of the Roman Empire’ along Hadrian’s Wall. Top marks to the National Trails for getting at least two UNESCO badges.
The UNESCO website entry is obviously written by a civil engineer and refers to the aqueduct as ‘Covering a difficult geographical setting’. I would accept ‘challenging’ and, indeed, embrace ‘spectacular’ but to me, ‘difficult setting’ reduces Telford’s ‘masterpiece of engineering and monumental metal architecture’ to the level of a fractious child (https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/1303/).
Wikipedia (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pontcysyllte_Aqueduct) adopts a far more practical approach by explaining the economic context which prompted the building of the aqueduct, and yet left the canal unfinished. What is now known as the Llangollen Canal was supposed to be an essential section in the proposed Ellesmere canal network, connecting the River Severn with Liverpool docks. A geographically less ‘difficult’ and cheaper route was abandoned in favour of the Vale of Llangollen crossing, a circuit which would allow commercial access to the coal fields of north east Wales. Unfortunately, the predicted revenues did not materialise and the completion of the stunning aqueduct, in 1805, is reported to be about the last major piece of construction in this unfinished engineering matrix.
Due to its links to the Shropshire Union Canal, the Llangollen arm continued to carry limited commercial traffic into the 1930s but was formally abandoned in the 1940s. The aqueduct was retained as part of a water feed to the Shroppie, and reopened to a new world of pleasure craft some 40 years later.
The aqueduct is basically a very long metal trough, supported on iron arches and hollow stone pillars. As a pig trough, it could probably feed and water nearly 1,000 pigs simultaneously, or could be converted to about 170 bath tubs laid end to end. The tow path runs the length of the trough and a substantial metal railing protects path users from tumbling the 125 ft (30 m) to the valley below. It is not an experience for the feint hearted, whether on foot or aboard a narrow boat.
Because of this challenging setting, the official Offa’s Dyke Trail offers two options for crossing the River Dee at this point. Two of us go by aqueduct tow path and the third takes the valley route. Apparently, alternative photographs from the valley bottom are crucial!
From Trevor Basin at the north end of the Aqueduct, the Trail crosses the wooded and pastoral Dee valley before starting a steady climb up and out of the Vale of Llangollen. Our way is about to explode into one of Britain’s the most dramatic and surprising landscapes. We are about to enter the Carboniferous limestone world of the Eglwyseg and Esclusham Mountains.
The hyperbole is not just mine. Described as ‘an iconic landscape of truly outstanding scenic and visual quality’ (https://www.clwydianrangeanddeevalleyaonb.org.uk/projects/the-dee-valley/) this area is designated an Area of Outstanding Beauty. What is so special about this extraordinary area? Let us take you on a photographic tour and give you a taste of this bizarre landscape.
Leaving the road above Trevor village, the Offa’s Dyke Trail heads off through the gateway to Trevor Hall and Trevor Hall Wood. The battered formality of this entrance comes as something of a suprise, but in hind sight, it presents a wonderful, Narnia-esque, entrance to the remarkable landscape which awaits.
Below:
left - climbing upwards through Trevor Hall Wood
right - emerging at the top.
We climb through the wood, a significant portion of which has been converted to exotic conifer plantation, and emerge to admire the view before joining a track and then a metalled road. This latter would normally spell disappointment, but not today. What a privilege to have access to this unexpected landscape (aptly named, at this point, The Panorama): part desert, part scree, part cliff, part guardian of the wooded river valleys below (the Dee and the Eglwyseg), part pasture, part scrub, part alien.
There is, however, a great deal more to this landscape than scenic wonder. Other designations also apply: a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) and a Special Area of Conservation (SAC). Specialist wildlife love a stressed landscape such as this free draining, lightly grazed, alkaline, and to humans, perhaps, unfriendly environment. Here we have the calcerous dry grasslands, the limestones screes and rocky slopes. Here are rock roses, musk thistles, and autumn gentian. Here grows the rare Whitebeam - Sorbus anglica - and here the rare Welsh hawkweed (Heiracium cambricum) has been recorded. Later, we will find contrasting and extensive areas of dry heath.
Another designation also gives the lie to the phrase ‘unfriendly environment’. This is a Landscape of Special Historic Interest and humans have made use of this area from at least the Bronze Age. The Dee valley was fertile and well-watered of course, but the uplands may well have offered summer grazing, ceremonial sites and, by the iron age, defended settlements (https://www.cpat.org.uk/projects/longer/histland/llangoll/vlland.htm) ‘Hard’ evidence of Medieval society - including wealth, christianisation and politics - is much easier to find and a couple of atmospheric ruins deepen the landscape’s sense of mystery. Madog ap Gruffydd Maelor, 13th century Prince of Powys, built Valle Crucis Abbey, a Cistercian foundation, later dissolved by Henry VIII in 1537. It’s less than a mile off piste, hidden from view, but well worth a visit.
In contrast, Castell Dinas Brân (left) is a highly visible symbol of Welsh history and partiotism, probably built by Gruffydd Maelor II (Madog’s eldest son) on a previously occupied (probably from the Iron Age onwards), and very prominent, hill top above the town of Llangollen.
Today, this landscape is beloved by hikers, cyclists, climbers, naturalists, archaeologists, historians, landscape lovers and sheep, yet on this hot August weekday it feels deserted and other worldly.
We are not entirely alone, however (below): cycling and farming provides the most obvious signs of life on the day of our visit.
Walking through this landscape is suprisingly tough, however. It’s hot, the scenery is mind blowing, there is precious little shade, the walking is either hard-on-the-spine highway or narrow-stony-track and the few streams we cross - plunging down and up again to cross their narrow valleys - are nearly dry. It is also a long, long section.
At the appropriately named Worlds End, we drop around 50 m (160 ft) to cross a steep sided valley and then start a 65 m (210 ft) climb between the Eglwyseg and Esclusham Mountains to reach our top height for the day (394 m or around 1,290 ft). The map shows remnants of the long established mining activity all around us although they are hard to pick out, even on these bare hill sides.
The Trail is rocky and bare, but life is all around. Above us, a single tree, beside us a lime loving musk thistle or a rare grayling butterfly, below cyclists, and the verdant vegetation and farmsteads of the valley bottoms.
We have walked through this startling landscape for four hours - tired but never tiring of the view - when, with an extraordinary jolt, the Trail suddenly segues into another exceptional, but totally different topography and habitat: the dry heath which we spoke of earlier.
To be honest, by this time, we are suffering from mental overload and physical exhaustion. Our water supplies are running low and we take a break beneath scant shade before we attempt to cross the sea of heath and bracken. An even more senstive environment than the stony mountain sides which we have just left, the Trail is now protected by a makeshift board walk, or paved with enormous recycled slabs which remind me, rather ominously, of grave stones. Sheep are safely grazing, but some areas appear to be managed as grouse moor, so the grouse may also view the slabs as a bad omen. The heather - at the peak of its floristic beauty - is very easy on the eye, but the slabs and boards are even tougher to hike over than the limestone tracks. It looks marvellous, but we are plodding on, silently wondering when it will all end.
But the heath does end, as abruptly as it started and, with a sigh of relief, we step into the shade of Llandegla Forest. The respite is short lived, however. This is a commercial forest with row on row of identical, exotic conifers and very limited ground flora. The track is, in parts, an ankle breaker, the mountain bikers are manic fellow travellers and the clear fell operations make paving slabs and heather look like a stroll in the park.
But Llandegla Forest means we are very close to Llandegla village where the support vehicle will be waiting for us. In normal circumtances this soft path, through mixed woodlands and fields, would be a delightful way to end a day’s walking. For the first time in my life, however, I am really struggling to put one foot in front of another. The final stile is a slow nightmare. There are steps up to the road which seem impossibly steep. I am nearly defeated by having to move my body into the back of the car. But I do it. Without help. And an hour and two pints of water later, I can move again - almost normally.
Another Offa
Nearly a year ago, in the days when we thought Christmas 2020 would happen, we posted a couple of blogs on the Offa’s Dyke National Trail, which we had been section walking since 2015. After two episodes (which included passing the Trail’s half way mark), we decided to give you all a break, and moved on to other topics, but we feel the time has come to revisit the Welsh border lands and pick up the threads of our story once again.
We left you (Blog 6 on 3rd December 2020) with camera failure somewhere near the Breidden Hills. We had walked through the Royal Forestry Society’s Leighton Estate, south east of Welshpool, climbed the long slope to Beacon Ring Hill Fort, shrouded in trees, and then slid down over a thousand feet (342 m to be exact), to the Severn Valley below, crossing the swollen but sluggish river at the grade II listed Buttington Bridge, a mere 68 ft (21 m) above sea level. The Trail then appears to take leave of its senses and threads its way, perilously, through a busy, industrial scale dairy operation. Thankfully, the Breiddens, topping out at a similar height to Beacon Ring make an arresting back drop to both the tankers and the Severn’s lazy journeyings.
The Severn-side section of the trail has been diverted since our antediluvian guide was written and, presumably because of flood risk and the current lack of a Noah’s ark, the way now takes walkers along a short stretch of the Montgomery Canal, which hugs the very western edge of the Severn flood plain, following the contours just below the 80 m mark (262 ft).
Leaving the canal, the Trail climbs onto substantial flood defence dykes which skirt the Severn’s convoluted meanders. Most such structures are stark, grassy banks within wet pastures,
but this delightful example (image right)
protects a garden, which the owner has allowed, or encouraged, to spill out onto the
Dyke itself.
Eventually, walkers are dumped back down onto the route of Offa’s (much straighter) Dyke, allowing us to tramp through Four Crosses, return to the canal, and move on towards the village of Llanymynech.
Below: upper row - ornamental tile work in the Four Crosses A483 underpass (see central tile for a historic view of the scary dairy/creamer). Lower row: another sort of traffic node - the Montgomery Canal and the Offas Dyke Trail crossing the River Severn with the help of a, rather grumpy, canal and railway company
Geographically, Llanymynech perches between the Severn valley to its south and limestone hills to the north and is remarkable for being a village half in England and half in Wales. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the village sits on a crossroads (road and, historically, waterways and railway), and provides a bridging point close to where the Severn flows from Wales into England. We cannot comment on Llanymynech’s other significant features as the Trail neatly bypasses it, and throws us staight up Llanymynech Hill and onto the ‘Oswestry Uplands’.
Llanymynch Hill and neighbouring Nantmawr are classics of limestone eminences. Prehistoric remnants – hill forts and the dyke itself – now cohabit with industrial archaeology, created to feed industry and commerce, possibly dating back to Roman times. These steep, irregular uplands, supporting grasslands and small native woodlands, are also pockmarked with (and occasionally devastated by) old quarries, lime kilns and other massive stuctures, and support a complex of old railway lines and cart tracks. Today, these extraordinary landscapes are much used by walkers, support nature reserves and enable us all to appreciate the locality’s industrial and prehistoric heritage.
Below: upper row - industrial archeology/biodiversity. Lower row: steep, irregular uplands
Our beloved if antique guide book (Offa’s Dyke Path, John B Jones, published in 1976 for the then Countryside Commission), notes ‘improved landscape’ as one progresses northward!
By the time you arrive on a level with Oswestry, if feels like the sunlit uplands, with bold sweeps of grass and heathlands around Baker’s Hill and the ‘recreational archaeology’ of the former Oswestry Race Course.
The path then took us on past Selattyn Hill, where major forestry work was taking place (see below - this was in 2019, so the scene may look rather different now), and continues through Craignant village to descend into the Ceiriog Valley and the spectacular views of Chirk Castle, on the other side.
But we have a confession to make. Our section walk for the summer of 2019 ended at Craignant and we didn’t return to make that descent from upland to vale until a miserable January day in 2020. With family, we walked from Craignant, past what John B Jones tells us is the last continuous section of actual Dyke which the Trail encounters, crossed the Ceiriog river at Castle Mill, and attempted a traverse across the Chirk Castle Estate. Due to foul weather – heavy rain and high winds - this normally benign and extensive National Trust parkland had turned into a danger zone, as the wind buffeted the massive and mature parkland trees. We were tempted to ignore the ‘keep out’ signs but finally relented and went the long way around, reaching our destination - the Vale of Llangollen, the Shropshire Union Canal and the village of Froncysyllte - damp, windblown and more than ready for refreshment.
As you can imagine, photo opportunities were limited, and the Terroir photographer was very reluctant to expose the camera to the elements, although the deputy photographer managed to snap a couple of pictures to demonstrate the conditions. So, once again, we are forced to apologise for the lack of any photographic record, in this case, of the Ceiriog valley and Chirk Castle.
In next week’s blog, however, we will return to Froncysyllte, bathed in 2020’s sunshine. We look forward to seeing you there.
More on Offa
Blogging about Offa’s Dyke path has brought home an obvious truth: long distance foot paths are, well, long. Last week, we covered less than half of the Way from Chepstow to Prestatyn. In Terroir’s terms, this is about a year and a half’s worth of section walking. This week, we return - it’s now 2017 - to pick up the baton at the foot of the Black Mountains, moving from Monmouthshire to Powys with some forays in and out of Herefordshire and Shropshire.
I realise that these blog accounts bear no resemblence to a traditional guide book, and are distinctly lacking in wayside commentary or historic detail. But that is rather point. I have read detailed and wordy blogs on long distance footpaths and, as with the guide book, they have little to say that is memorable if you are not walking the Way as you read them. All Terroir is attempting is to sum up the essence of the trail in a few pictures and fewer words. Inspiring? Good. Boring? Go buy a Guide Book!
Hay on Wye to Knighton - sliding down into Hay from the Black Mountains, we promptly took a day off to explore the town and, of course the book shops. Hay doesn’t grip us. Maybe it needs a festival… But what happens next more than compensates. Next is forgotten Radnorshire, a tapestry of exceptional countryside, with extraordinary towns. Our ancient guide book (John Jones’s ‘Offa’s Dyke Path’, HMSO for the Countryside Commission [remember them?], 1976) speaks of ‘broken hill country’ and ‘the most strenous walking on the Offa’s Dyke Path’. Don’t believe it - the seamless weave of hills and valleys urges you on, begging you to walk to the crest, rewarding you with bizarre surprises, textured and tempting views, and a way down again which enticies with promises of further delights. The diary of the Rev Francis Kilvert, whose ‘country’ this is, also beckons, with lyrical and accessible prose and a historical perspective which makes one weep for lost diversity: ‘Went to Bronith [Bronydd]. People at work in the orchard gathering up the windfall apples for early cider. The smell of the apples very strong. Beyond the orchard the lone aspen was rustling loud and mournfully a lament for the departure of summer’ (Kilvert’s Diary 1870 - 1879, Penguin Books 1987).
We stray off piste, of course. Hergest Croft garden on the way down the long grassy slope from Hergest Ridge is a must (see below). Kington, the sort of a town which supports two butchers where others have none, is described in our guide as ‘not the pleasantest town on the long-distance path’. I hope it gets a better press in the more up to date editions; entering Kington is like walking back into the 1950s and an experience not to be missed. Knighton seemed much more up to date and very much aware of its responsibilities as the ‘capital’ of the Dyke, providing all sorts of useful services to walkers and interested visitors alike.
The Clun Hills - we are in England, perhaps due to aspirational Marcher Lords attempting to push the boundaries forever westwards. The river Clun is the theme, prompting the latter day Marches’ enthusiast, A E Housman, to pen the following: ”
“Clunton and Clunbury,
Clungunford and Clun,
Are the quietest places
Under the sun.
In valleys of springs of rivers,
By Ony and Teme and Clun,
The country for easy livers,
The quietest under the sun,
We still had sorrows to lighten,
One could not be always glad,
And lads knew trouble at Knighton
When I was a Knighton lad.”
It goes on for another four verses but the depression which reading Houseman always induces in me is beginning to become unbearable. Look it up if you want more! The Clun Hills are subtly different from the Radnorshire variety. Here, old Red Sandstone and Dolerite give a rougher, more irregular feel; there is more woodland, scrub and hedge, pasture rather than meadow. It is exhilirating, spooky, varied - and you get to Dyke’s half way point.
Back to the Severn and the Vale of Montgomery - we are coming down off the hills, through woodland and onto the Severn plain, another almost violent change in landscape. There will be hills and views later but the immediate contrast is, literally, a bit of a let down. The Wye is sluggish, recovering from a spate of flooding; silty hedgerows bear witness to recent high water levels. The ground is damp, stolid, riparian, but an unexpected garden bordering the dyke provides domesticity, diversity, delight - and cake. A section of road walking contibutes another downer but suddenly the contours begind to wriggle and twitch and we find ourselves creeping up the ‘foothills’ of the Long Mountain, past the heroic remnants of an an abandoned quarry. Here on the Long Mounain lies ‘Leighton’, originally part of the estate of the same name but donated to the Royal Forestry Soceity (RFS) in 1957. Leighton has many claims to fame, particularly an old grove of Coastal Redwoods, planted in 1857, very shortly after the first specimens were intrduced into Brtiain. They remain unthinned, as requested in the gift, but a 1934 planting is managed by the RFS for timber and for an element of biodivesrity, to support the ‘wide range of plant species and associated insect life [which] … flourish’ in the estate. https://www.rfs.org.uk/media/28903/leighton-info-for-visitors.pdf The Way curves around elaborate dams and ponds (old water management features) and through shade cast by the most ecletic mix of native and exotic species I have seen in some time.
And now the confession. Our pictures of Leighton vanished in a mysterious digital crash, no doubt engineered by the sprites of the Long Mountain, and the heavy shade cast in many areas. So yet another reason for a visit to Offas’s Dyke.
So, as the Long Mountain fairies wreck our sign off at Leighton and the neighburing hill, The Breidden, we will leave you to seek accommodation in Welshpool or Oswestry, or perhaps take a turn in the neighbouring shooting estate, before continuing this journey to Llanymynech, Llandegla and the Vale of Llangollen.
Breaking News
Remember the hedgerow which failed to thrill me in Blog 1? Three cheers for the Surrey Wildlife Trust ( https://www.surreywildlifetrust.org/ ) who have transformed part of the hedge into a heritage and wildlife beauty.
