Snowfall Monday

It turns out that playing with the dogs in the snow on Friday, was just a precursor to future entertainment. Little did I realise how much more snow would appear on Sunday night/Monday morning. Drawing back the curtains on Monday morning exerted the same delight that I remember from childhood – wonder and excitement. It will be a sad day when that’s not the case.

Food, clothing, footwear, and rucksack – sorted. The yard is deep in fluffy stuff. Fifteen seconds of walking and the sight of the stile and footbridge over the stream, brings home just how much we’ve had. The bridge in particular is a beautiful white piece of art in the landscape. It’s almost a shame to use it.

In the field beyond, knee-deep snow and sometimes a little higher, reveals just how hard a day this might be; what’s not to like! Negotiating the stile at the top of the field, I’m now on the B-road. Ordinarily, a place to be alert and anxious. Few vehicles have ventured along it, so it’s a more relaxed walker who strolls south into All Stretton. Any vehicle that comes along is for once obeying the speed limit. In fact, they’re going a lot slower, which makes a lovely change. If only they could apply the same concentration every day!

All Stretton is a white and tranquil place, except for the road junction at the bottom of the Batch. My help is offered to a motorist stuck on the junction. He declines, but then here’s a motorist who comes prepared. A snow shovel is removed from the boot and he sets to work.

Showing the snowy way to All Stretton Village Hall

I meanwhile set to work walking up the wonderfully snowy Batch, branches of trees and bushes are bowed under the weight of snow. Evergreens are at particular risk of damage with their greater surface area. The Scots pine (Pinus sylvestris L.), a native conifer, one such victim. Walking up towards the distant white layered hills of the valley, my anticipation is building. When you have a passion for the outdoors, funny how some cold precipitation can increase the pulse rate, in more ways than one. The Batch seat has a lovely thick cushion on it.

Public seating with thick cushions in the Batch Valley

Assistance is offered to a couple digging out their car. It’s once more declined. They’re known to me and we have a brief conversation about the delights of snow. I continue across the cattle grid, it’s dark interior beneath my feet nearly full of snow. Over the footbridge and then to what is normally a green grassy triangle with a large tree to sit under and ponder which of three paths to take. It has a different look today.

A choice of paths, a lovely scene

Decision made, I turn left, leaving the Batch track, I go through a large gate and then take the left-hand path heading towards Cwm Dale.  Usually a short, very steep climb. Today it’s a long, snow drift, falling over, deep breathing, very steep climb. Do you ever get the feeling you’ve made the wrong decision?

Frequently to thigh level, the snow is fine and powdery, has no structure and consequently offers no help in climbing the hillside. Progress isn’t always upwards, or forwards. Laughs intermingle with the odd little curse. It’s not a strange creature that’s following my haphazard boot prints, it’s places where gloved hands are trying to save me from falling over. I’m breaking virgin snow, having fun, and I’ve no wish to be anywhere else. I’m mad, it’s official.

After what seems an age, the steep ground and snow drifts are left behind, and although still climbing, it’s a more gentle incline. The legs and lungs are grateful. I’m following a fence line alongside the Cwm Dale valley. Rabbit tracks (Think of an upside-down Y), come and go between the once green pasture below and the slopes of the Long Mynd. Distant laughter suggests I’m not the only mad person out and about!

Rabbit tracks in the snow on the slopes of the Cwm Dale Valley

Through the maze of white hedge-line branches, distant figures, a mixture of young and old can be seen sledging. They’re using the wide grassy strip that leads down from my current path to the Cwm Dale vehicle track. An interesting choice for sledging, it has a small ditch and mound part way down! Recalling the distant past, our sledging field back home had a pond at the bottom. You sometimes had to dismount your sledge if the going got too fast.

My path now contours across the open hillside. For a few minutes my concentration is focused on a narrow snow-filled path and the personal desire not to fall and provide the sledging audience with some extra entertainment. Mission, ‘not to fall’ safely accomplished, I pass behind the small group of sledgers and start to climb again.

A brief stop to watch the fun. It gladdens the heart to see all having fun in the great outdoors. Most downhillers take the ditch and mound slowly. An odd dare-devil takes the obstacles at speed with the almost obvious result of plastic sledge and driver parting company, to much laughter from everyone else.

I’d love to have a go, though my technique would be, ‘old-school’ – head first, feet used to steer. The modern way is sat up using hands to slow and steer. Wimps! And of course, our sledges would be self-built, sometimes with a piece of carpet tacked to the top for a bit of comfort; wet comfort! Happy memories.

Chilling fingers signal that it’s time for me to move on. Someone has beaten me to this path of snow, though the footprints are partially filled with snow. Going around a right-hand corner, a lady is coming the other way. I step aside, once more up to my thighs in snow. We exchange a few words and then go our separate ways. It takes me a little longer to go my way, having to extract myself from the deep snow on the steep hillside. Us gentleman don’t always have it easy!

I’m now skirting the golf course, with different sports making use of the contoured landscape. I pass a skier and a snow boarder. People are taking what opportunities they can. The powder snow is just what they want, though they’d like more I’m sure. I can imagine lots of frustrated golfers practising their putting on the living room floor, trying to avoid the Christmas wrapping.

A Longmynd pony looks for food

The descent into the Carding Mill Valley is taken slowly. It’s a strange looking valley today, just one car parked beside the stream. It’s been there overnight, a car with a white eiderdown on, the make and colour of car hidden. A nice change from the usual crowded valley with vehicles of every description and colour; people to match. The National Trust may disagree with that statement, but just for once let’s have some respect for the poor valley, frequently subject to lots of mistreatment. I’m pleased for it today, having a rest.

Today the valley is a uniform white with a brownish ribbon wiggling it’s way down the valley, dotted with white spots, where snow lies on large stones, beyond the reach of the stream’s chilly water. The stream also provides a lovely audio, tinkle, tinkle; not quite sleigh bells, but it adds to the mood of the day. I make my way down the road towards the town.

A quick detour takes me to the War Memorial standing over-looking the town on a hill-top at the bottom of the Burway. So different from my view at the crowded Remembrance Service just last month.

With light snow falling, I venture into town. It’s now afternoon, some pavements have had a quick clear, the main roads passable, but slushy. Many parked cars remain where they were from the night before. The traffic warden not seen as an issue today!  A few walkers, some people pulling sledges, a few people are pulling reluctant dogs, though that’s not always the case. Some shopping calls, albeit briefly.

A snow covered garden fence in Church Stretton

My rucksack now heavier, I’m heading once more for a snowy countryside. Along Madeira Walk not much as moved. One car sits ticking over, owner not present. Entering the small woodland that leads to Cwm Dale, its a bit like entering a winter fairy tale. Views of Caer Caradoc are framed by nature with a touch of white.

Caer Caradoc from Madeira Walk

It’s a day when the shopping gets a bit of a sightseeing trip. Left and right turns find me trying to stay on a near invisible narrow path climbing up onto the side of the Novers Hill. Joining the main path, I’m now following in someone else’s footprints. The views are of course beautiful. Further along, two other individuals are enjoying the same snowy Stretton landscape.

Sheep with an icy beard on Novers Hill

A slow and careful descent gets me back into the Batch, more people digging out cars, and throwing a bit of salt about. It won’t do any real good until some traffic crushes it down onto the road. And traffic is scarce. The road back home is still very quiet. Despite some fallen Scots pine branches, only small, the actual road conditions have improved during the day of sunshine.

A drunken finger post points the way

Whilst admitting that the mileage hasn’t been that great, the legs realise they’ve done some work today. I’ve not told them yet, that they can expect much the same tomorrow!

A lovely day, only possibly missing some company to share it with. And definitely too deep for the dogs! A Saint Bernard dog with a small casket of dry cider, or an Irish cream blended drink. Now that I would like to see.

Coming next: Snowfall Tuesday