Great rides: Marcher Castles Way

The road ahead rose at an alarming angle towards the top of Brown Clee Hill. We had already fought our way up through a fern-tangled bridleway and across a steep field full of cows, but the real challenge of Shropshire’s highest hill was clearly still in front of us.

There was no alternative: we carried on upwards, some in granny gear, others walking (no shame here), inching skywards through quiet woods tinged with autumn colours. We were quiet for the first time all day, unable to continue conversation for gasping, our concentration focused on the misty summit.

As we got above the tree line, this mist lifted and the border hills of Wales and England stretched out all around us, in golds, purples and russets. Snowdonia lay in one direction, Shropshire the other. The landscape was vast but there wasn’t another human in sight. We had the whole hill and view to ourselves.

Iron Age forts, Ironbridge Gorge

Marcher Castles Way is Cycling UK’s latest bikepacking route, this time covering both England and Wales, following the launch of Traws Eryri last year. The aim was to create a route that was challenging and adventurous, and that celebrates the scenery, culture and history of the shifting borderlands between England and Wales.

I rode the route in early September with five others: my colleague Sophie Gordon, three of Cycling UK’s 100 Women in Cycling (Dulce Pedroso, Jess Notzig and Jasmin Patel) and Stefan Amato from Pannier.cc.

It is a mixed-terrain, circular loop that starts and finishes in Shrewsbury, wiggling for nearly 300km around the Welsh Marches. The route crosses the border between Wales and England no fewer than eight times, and the remains of castles, forts and dykes highlight the contested history of the area.

The word Marcher in the title refers to the Anglo-Saxon word ‘mearc’, which means boundary. Even now, there is a sense of wildness and liminality that seems to hang like mist across the remoter parts of this landscape.

Shrewsbury is the ideal place to start the route. We admired the red-bricked Shrewsbury Castle and the historic high street filled with half-timbered houses. We also had a quick stop at Trailhead bike shop to pick up spare tubes and bike lube.

Then we left the town on quiet lanes and a canal towpath. It was a misleadingly easy way to start what turned out to be a strenuous four days.

The first day passed quickly. We breezed through the area’s jumbled history, seeing Iron Age forts, abandoned metal-smelting factories and then the ghostly remains of a Roman city. Then we arrived at the highlight of day one: the Ironbridge Gorge.

The eponymous bridge at Ironbridge was made in 1779 – the world’s first arch bridge made from iron – and is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It’s an elegant span, rising over the River Severn and giving nice views of the gorge.

The steep climb out of Ironbridge up onto Wenlock Edge gave us a taste of the gradients that were to come. Unfortunately, it started to rain hard at this point, so we didn’t linger to look at Bethnal Hall. We went as fast as possible towards Much Wenlock and our B&B.

“Not weather for quiche!” Jess remarked, as we rode through the heavy downpour. We found out later that Much Wenlock has a renowned bakery, the Pig and Pie, which was selling quiche by the kilo. What a shame to miss buying a kilo of quiche!

Season of mists

A sunny morning the next day gave us a chance to explore Much Wenlock. It’s a gorgeous medieval town with half-timbered houses covered in climbing roses. The ruins of the old abbey sat cloaked in mist next to the river, and there was a small plaque declaring this spot as the birthplace of the modern Olympics.

After some sightseeing, we pedalled away from Much Wenlock in bright sunlight and found ourselves quickly lost in a wild and green landscape. The first 10km took a long time; there were several rocky and steep slopes that required pushing, as well as some thick mud along the Jack Mytton Way.

But it was a beautiful setting: ancient beech woods and peaceful fire roads, with occasional tantalising views out to remote hillsides.

As in many off-road adventures, we soon found ourselves covered in mud, stung with nettles and looking thoroughly dirty. We shared some Welsh cakes and compared who had managed to collect the most spectacular mud splatters. Then we zoomed down to the smooth lanes of Corvedale.

We were soon at the foot of Brown Clee Hill, the biggest on the route. As we rode up, legs burning, we could see the pylons at the top of the hill almost lost in clouds. What a shame!

It seemed we were going to ride all the way up and not be able to see anything. But as we neared the summit, among a sea of flowering heather, the mist began to rise, showing off patchwork hills stretching away in every direction to a wild and beautiful horizon.

We took a breather at the top, while Stefan prepared us a quick gourmet lunch of noodles, peanut butter and spring onions, topped with crushed Doritos. He served this to us on individual cheese raclette plates.

“Did you carry these the whole way up the hill?” we asked, pleased and amazed he’d been so speedy on the hill, despite the weight of five raclette plates. “You never know when you might want to melt cheese,” Stefan told us. Wise words.

The descent off Brown Clee Hill was amazing: a fast trail that zigzagged through the heather and gorse, made all the better by the stunning views. It was hard to keep my eyes on my front tyre to avoid bogs.

The official route goes over Titterstone Clee Hill after this, but we were running behind and losing daylight so we ended up going around instead, heading towards Ludlow. This is yet another well-preserved medieval town, with the ruins of an ancient castle that you can visit.

We got there too late to go inside – it closes at 4pm – but we enjoyed exploring the narrow streets lined with black and white wattle and daub houses.

Isla Rowntree (of Islabikes fame) had recommended the sourdough pizzas at Ludlow’s Sourced Pizza restaurant. So it was a group of very full cyclists who made an evening dash from Ludlow to our Airbnb near Walford.

A sky full of stars

The next day we were back riding on the Jack Mytton Way through Knighton over to the Kerry Ridgeway. The climb up to the ridgeway is a tough gradient. We ended up pushing all the way up past Offa’s Dyke to reach it.

We were rewarded with glorious views over Wales, and were surrounded by wildflower meadows of clover, harebells and heather. The gravel road along the top of the ridgeway was a treat: fast, fun and smooth, with views on either side. Again, the landscape was empty of people. It was ours alone.

We stopped at Clun for lunch at the Postcard Café. Clun is a beautiful village, with the ruins of a castle as well as a medieval bridge that’s still in use. We ended up eating so much at the café, the lady behind the counter told us it was the biggest bill she’d ever seen. Proof that hungry cyclists have bottomless stomachs!

Rather than doing the full route, which goes to Montgomery and Newtown, we cut the corner and stayed on the Jack Mytton Way, heading north to Church Stretton. There were big views, chatty locals and traffic jams caused by herds of cows.

We arrived at the Kinton Escapes campsite as dusk was falling. The campsite’s lovely yurts had their own fire and were illuminated by almost 100 candles. Stars popped into view above us and the Milky Way was clearly visible.

The campsite owner told us that this area was one of the only places in the south of the UK with no light pollution. It was a serene place to spend the night.

Up and down the Long Mynd

On the final day we were woken by the sound of rain on the tent. We groaned, knowing we had two big climbs to do in the stormy weather. We pulled on our wet weather gear and set off. It wasn’t long before we were faced with several brutally steep climbs. Back to pushing!

Very slowly, we inched upwards towards the top of Stiperstones National Reserve and the Long Mynd. As we climbed, the weather closed in, surrounding us with heavy white fog. Apparently there are spectacular views off the top, but you’ll have to go and see for yourselves if it’s true.

The long climb through heather, gorse and bracken was fun, however. It felt wild and remote, as though we were climbing a proper mountain pass. The top of the Long Mynd felt very exposed, but also exciting. You could imagine medieval Welsh warriors emerging from the mist.

The descent to Church Stretton was fantastic. We plummeted down on a trail that winds through a steep gorge that in September was purple and yellow with heather and gorse. We whooped as we descended, crossing streams, water bars and rocky sections, enjoying not having to pedal. Church Stretton had a good choice of cafés, ample reward for our earlier hill-climbing efforts.

On the final stretch back to Shrewsbury we passed Caer Caradoc, a huge, mysterious fort that local legend says was the site of the last stand of the Welsh legend Caratacus against the Roman conquest of Britain. It’s a magnificent site, and a great final nod to the mountainous, mythic landscape we’d ridden through over the last few days.

We made it back to Shrewsbury thoroughly wet and muddy but happy. Riding Marcher Castles Way had been a spectacular and challenging adventure, leaving us with tired legs and full hearts.