Malvern Ridge Sqwalk

Malvern Ridge Sqwalk (68^th) 1^st April 2010

Up for it were:

Yupmeister, Mid Week Tone, Granpop Bill, Keithee's up for it, Stubbee, JayCee, Dasher, Malc Jay, Matt Jay, Spikelett, Mr Tahoohigh, Utterly, Heavy Steve Machine, Jacko, Rob Sparklet, Thingy, Paul Hecky Thump, Tim Mothy, Slippery from Derby (Pete Price) and last but not least Benny (Kev)

13 Mile Route:

Train from Malvern railway station to Colwall Stone station. Walk east/southeast towards the Singing Kettle, onto road and track above it then head south to Wynds Point. Rise to Millennium Hill and head south along the Worcestershire Way to the Gullet and head west past the obelisk and on through Eastnor Park turning northwards to follow the Ridgeway. At the A449 head east to Wynds Point again and head north up Black Hill, Pinnacle Hill and Perseverance Hill, and on to the Worcestershire Beacon. Here we slipped west down a gulley to the Brewer’s Arms after which we headed back over the ridge, around the North Hill and back down into Malvern.

Picked up by Speedy (Bill the driver) at The Westbury, we headed steadily, well bombed really, down the M6 and came off the slip road at junction 14 to pick up Heavy Steve Machine. It was difficult to spot him in the slip road as his greying matter blended almost perfectly well into the white frosted background of the verge. Slippery from Derby, had set off the previous night to spend the evening relaxing at the Worcester travel lodge. He found time to polish the under-soles of his boots, and planned to join us on the train in Malvern the following morning.

As we approached the Malverns, we admired the 9 mile range of granite rising dramatically out of the flat Severn valley plain in front of us designated as an area of outstanding beauty. We wondered however if we’d make it from one end to the other without incident. Of course we would. No one would slip over, would they?

Jacko informed us that the Malverns, whilst famous for being a fashionable Victorian Spa Resort, was also famous for its pies. It was only when he continued and referred to the fact that they were monitoring us at all times and knew we were on our way, that we realised he was talking about spies. Thinking about food again !! Indeed the hills were used by the Ministry of Defence to intercept communication during the war period, so we kept stum until we arrived at Malvern station.

The station, almost 150 years old, and one of the most ornate small stations in the country was pretty easy to find, especially after we’d realised our errors, asked someone for directions, and turned around. Mid week Tone took time off from his caravanning break nearby to join us for the day. Christine dropped him off and looked forward to putting her feet up for a few hours and reading a book in peace. Sounded wonderful.

With time to spare we bought our cheap one way tickets to Colwall and crossed the subway to the opposite platform, waiting for the train to arrive. Mothy arrived late and as we gathered on the train with Slippery from Derby, we spotted him sauntering into the station along the platform towards us without a care in the world. If only he’d have been 10 seconds earlier he’d have been on the train with us. So having missed us, we later found out that he bought a return ticket and followed in his car to meet us at our breakfast destination, The Singing Kettle at Colwall.

The Singing Kettle was a mile or two from the station across muddy fields, uphill of course, as they always are these days. It was a slightly upper crust establishment, which had amazing views from the conservatory across Wales, but you had to remove muddy boots at the doorway to avoid being told off. Of course you wouldn’t expect any of us to be that tight that we’d take our own butties and eat them in the café. No-one would dare. Well, perhaps not in most cases, but on this occasion one did. Yes, Dasher (oops I wasn’t going to mention his name) was told off for eating his own butties in the establishment. ‘It’s like going to a brothel and taking your own broth’, stated Keithee,,, and one or two agreed.

Munching through bacon butties with a side salad was a first for most of us, and it was also disappointing to have to share a teabag which seemed rather harsh. Still, it gave us an opportunity to moan whilst we slid around in our socks, a pleasure particularly enjoyed by Slippery from Derby. Malc Jay looked particularly well in his orange plastic over shoe bags, which you can pick up for free from Sainsburys.

Boots on, we left the café, choosing a slightly different route to the planned route to make up around 30 minutes lost time. The weather forecast on the run up to the Thursday had looked amazing with sun dominating the day and rain and snow showers being indicated for the days either side. And so it was, at least so far.

The views were stunning and the Herefordshire Beacon could be seen beckoning in the distance. It was a fairly relaxed drop down to the Malvern Hills Hotel where we would later quench our thirsts, before we started a tough climb up a meandering tarmac path to the roman fort, alias the Herefordshire Beacon. This was an Iron Age fort known locally as the ‘British Camp’ which as you all know was the inspiration for Elgar’s work ‘Caractacus’. Bet Jacko knew that !!

Spike posed on the top to prove he could still touch his toes whilst passing wind and a group photo followed as the wind died down.

We passed an obelisk and found a bench in the deer park in view of Eastnor Castle to rest up for five. The Castle would have delayed us another hour or so, so we saved its delights for another day.

Unfortunately, the return path was closed due to renovation work at it’s entrance. I’d failed to mention before this point that this path was actually a concessionary path and that if it had been closed then we would have had to have retraced our steps. Thankfully, as luck has it (as always), with the help of Slippery from Derby, we were able to get back on track and onto the road leading back to the Malvern Hills hotel at Wynds Point.

Spike and Utterly had stopped for a wee break together (at least that was what they told us?) and with just ten minutes between us were somehow lost. ‘Who needs maps eh when we’ve got mobile phones’. ‘Got the map in the rucksack’, said Spike, ‘but couldn’t be bothered to get it out when I had a mobile in my hand!’ A few minutes later they caught us up just as the heavens opened and it chucked it down.

As we began to relax and enjoy the break, with the refreshing hop flavours exuding from the Ludlow Gold and the Butty Bach, Yuppy passed the word that we needed to be off again to avoid missing lunch at the Brewers Arms. So we set off in the rain and the wind which had escalated to just over gale force 7. It wasn’t long before the gales took their toll and Slippery from Derby, declared himself unstable, took a dive in the mud, and gained his new pseudonym, ‘Slippery from Derby’.

With the wind down to gale force 5, you could glance to the east and spot the Three Counties Showground where the agricultural show has taken place for just over 200 years. The 3 counties are of course, Herefordshire, Gloucestershire and Worcestershire. Eeeeeh, you learn something new every day…

JayCee and Stubbee, falling slightly behind, took a slight diversion to the Wyche Inn, assuming it was where the rest of us were for the lunch stop, but soon realised they were off course. ‘Wyche pub are we in?’ they asked the landlord, and he agreed.

Down a dyke as we approached the Worcester Beacon, The Brewer’s Arms could be spotted below, clearly standing out with its name painted on the roof to ensure we couldn’t miss it. HPA (Hereford Pale Ale), Black Pear and Trevor from MHB (Malvern Hills Brewery) were all top drawer as was the food.

Heavy Steve tucked a napkin into his shirt, as if it’d make any difference anyway, looking at the state of him. He said he fancied a spotted dick, and after struggling to cut his steak with a blunt knife his wish was granted with his steak skipping off the table and on to his lap. Spike offered to go down on him to recover it but he was turned down flat.

We could have sat in another outbuilding which boasted the best pub view in the Malverns, but we were too snug to move. Jokes began to be read out from mobiles as the alcohol units increased. We settled up with the bar maid, with Dasher explaining the reasoning behind his nickname, and continuing with, “I’m a stud you know, and I’m blessed like a donkey”. ‘He aw, ee aw ways says that’, someone shouted. Several then made their way back to the start of the walk, taking in the climb to North Hill, as the rest tucked into puddings and considered ringing up for a taxi.

The trudge back over the ridge and the 425m high Worcestershire Beacon, to St Ann’s Well was finally made. A strange cracking noise was heard above the Well as we passed by. A couple of minutes later, Spike emerged with a crutch, providing much welcomed support for his shin splints caused by his new boots.

Below St Ann’s Well we passed several gas lamp filled pathways, the inspiration as you all well know for C.S.Lewis’s ‘The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe’. It never ends.

We found another refreshment stop for a break before heading off in search of the aptly named Morgan pub close to the station, serving Wye Valley Brewery ales, and waited for Speedy to appear following an accident on the motorway. Some opted out and sat in a fag shelter outside.

Speedy arrived at around 6.40pm. Heavy fingered Heavy Steve Machine struggled to open the roof vent to let some fresh air into the bus, but luckily young Mel, Speedy’s better half, was on standby to open it for him.

Slippery from Derby sent a text confirming we had in fact covered a distance of 13 miles and a climb of 3,000 feet over the day using a gmap-pedometer analysis of the walk, see http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=3596397 for further details. Of course some had also slipped several additional feet.

It had been yet another cracking walk, especially for Spike’s shins which recovered miraculously when he loosened his laces. Jaycee also complained later of a bad foot in addition to his other ailments and Mothy also suffered with a bad back over the following few days. Of course Margaret gave him no sympathy and gave him a rollicking for over doing it now he’s 60.

Thanks to all for making it a most enjoyable day out.

Cheers

Yup

(enjoy yer Morgans)