Minton Batch

The sub-zero temperatures had passed, at least temporarily, taking with them the snow and ice that had laid around for several days. Ventures to town or pub taking especial care to remain upright have hardly counted as walking, so it was time to get out before the withdrawal symptons became too great. Clearly there would be plenty of water around, and probably mud too, so I decided to restrict myself to an afternoon on the Long Mynd.

Long Mynd means Long Mountain, though as it sounds it is also something of a long mound. The eastern side features many valleys or batches and rather than walking the full length of the Mynd I decided to restrict my efforts to ascending via Minton Batch and descending by Townbrook Valley.

I reached my starting point, the junction of the A49 and the B4370 at Marshbrook by bus. It was noticeable as we passed through the Strettons that a few small patches of snow clung to some of the higher reaches of the hills, but mostly they appeared clear. The initial part of the walk was on country lane: cross the railway line to enter Marshbrook and then turn immediately right. This lane took me out to Minton at the foot of the hills and then turned southwest. For walking country lanes are nothing like town or main roads. Traffic is on the low side of sparse: today I met just two farm vehicles.

I was soon able to get off-road, a path cutting cross-country first upwards and then descending to the mouth of Minton Batch which enters the hills on a south-north axis. The bottom of the descent leading to a gate was very muddy with water spilling down the hillside. Initially I tried going up at this point, hoping that I would find a place where the spread of water was narrower, but eventually discovered that the drier route was to go below the path.

Minton Batch is a narrow steep sided one path valley, the brook at its bottom carrying plenty of water as it chuckles its way out of the hills. Very pleasant, restful and deserving of another visit when the temperature is more conducive to lingering. The path is clear, though short deviations up side valleys are needed to keep dry feet whilst crossing the waters that descend them.

Past Windy Batch and my valley has turned northwest. The steep sides of the valley combine with its direction to reduce the light that reaches here, and I begin to hit patches of snow, or small drifts perhaps as they are in places several inches thick. Each patch is short, but requires careful negotiation by this wimp who is keen not to slip down the valleyside into the stream. Further up a particularly marshy bit is bridged by duckboards, and I have my second human meeting of my outing, my first being a man walking his dogs between Minton and the valley entrance. This time it is four cyclists coming down the path with varying degrees of confidence. We all pause briefly to compare notes on conditions, and then continue.

Whilst I was climbing the mist was descending and we met as I emerged from the top of the batch near the gliding club, and for a brief period the mist was thick enough to be called rain before reverting to its normal job of simply obscuring the view. Back onto tarmac as I turned initially northeast onto the road that leads almost to Pole Bank (the high point of the Long Mynd) before turning to descend to Church Stretton. But I was not on tarmac for long, not because I took a path off, but because drifts of snow crossed the road. At first these were relatively narrow bands of maybe a couple of inches depth, but they soon gave way to longer sections eight or nine inches deep. I had no inclination to leave the road however, not only would blazing a trail across the bracken be likely to be very wet, but I seem to recall that at least part of the road is bordered by ditches - I'd no desire to put my foot in a snow filled ditch.

Having already decided that I had no wish to tackle the upper reaches of the Townbrook Valley Path under snowy conditions I elected to follow the road throughout to Church Stretton. Passing under Pole Bank I saw my only other walkers for this trip, a couple gliding quietly through the mist and snow.

Just after the junction with the road to Ratlinghope a large notice warned that the road was closed because of snow and ice, but as the Ratlinghope road like that I had followed was devoid of wheel tracks, the notice was certainly at that time redundant as far as motorized transport was concerned, and us pedestrians make our own decisions. The snow here was at its deepest, certainly over a foot, but there was a pair of wide deep tracks presumably made by a tractor driven up to carry the notice. These tracks undulated but rarely reached the tarmac, so that following them was like being on a small Cresta Run. In due course the snow lessened and a good footing was available before the descent became steep.

Walking in snow is slow hard work with some steps finding an immediate solid footing and others sliding to a halt. Mist means the views are obscured. Yet despite the combination the afternoon had been enjoyable, with mild exercise, much solitude and the discovery of another valley worthy of further inspection to show for it.

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