I was predictably slow to depart from my spaceship hotel this morning, but to be fair I was still an hour ahead of the last checkout time, which for me is good going. I was also two hours ahead of yesterday’s departure time, so I was confident I would get there in daylight. There, since you ask, would be a hotel in the Malvern Hills, a little beyond Worcester. So I had work to do. The weather forecast was worrying; but the weather turned out to be acceptably dry and bright, if a little grey and cloudy. For now.
My first problem was the enormous Black Country conurbation that lay directly in my way. Not just the city of Wolverhampton, which was considerable by itself, but also the likes of Dudley and a few other places I can probably live never to see. From a cycling perspective, it didn’t seem either enjoyable or very sensible. The alternative – which I took – was to navigate in an arc around the north west of Wolverhampton along what looked on the map like a complicated but useable network of lanes, until I reached Kidderminster. I could stay pretty faithful to my straight line and hopefully not get too bogged down in traffic and other urban unpleasantness.
The problem I chose, however, was one of very tricky navigation in an area I knew nothing about. All of today was completely new to me and I had to check the map regularly. It was lucky that I did, because I found myself heading off in the wrong direction several times and rather lost my usually very good sense of direction. On the plus side, I saw some desirable places to live in the low hills to the west of Wolverhampton,, including the very pleasant small town of Wombourne, whose attractive centre is arranged around a large cricket ground. I was further hampered by an excessive number of closed roads, due, it appeared, to a major resurfacing push by the local council. That is a good thing, on balance, but it caused me no end of rerouting. This all made for slower progress than I had anticipated, and I arrived in the lovely little historic town of Kinver at about 2pm, more than ready for lunch, which the first tea room had just stopped serving! The second one had a simple menu, but they were happy to serve their speciality ham, cheese and pineapple toastie, so all was well.
Kinver town sits mostly in a valley, with a canal passing through, but it’s church can be seen high up above the high street, and from far away, on Kinver Edge, which is a lofty red sandstone perch owned by the National Trust. It would be some walk to Sunday services.
I sat out a shower in the tea room and left when I thought it was safe. I had been dry so far today. But the sky was dark and, sure enough, within five minutes I was soaking wet, along with the road. I didn’t fancy being around cars, or hills, in these conditions and it felt like the rain was here to stay for a while. So I plumped for the canal towpath which was heading, like me, for Kidderminster, a town famous for its carpets. The going was decidedly damp, but the surroundings were beautiful along this stretch and it made me want to be in a narrow boat, like the ones I saw puttering along in the rain, with the captain at the tiller under a big umbrella. I made it as far as the Cookley tunnel, which was roughly hewn from the rock above. It wasn’t very long – not dark enough for lights – but it was spooky enough to make me get off and walk. I was already wet enough.
Kidderminster was a work in progress. It is quite a big town on the River Stour, and it has old warehouses in the centre that are being turned into shops and a hotel, giving the town a new focal point and a waterfront of sorts. It will be nice when it is finished. The town hall is being bashed about, too, with rather compromised the main pedestrianised shopping area. May as well get it all done at once, I suppose.
From here onwards there was an obvious, and largely cycle friendly route that I was able to follow away from main roads until the point where my line intersected with a bridging point on the River Severn. This is England’s biggest river and even this far inland there are not many bridging points. That tends to mean that they are servicing busy roads, and that is definitely the case here at Holt Fleet. The A4133 is certainly not cycle friendly and even the brief couple of miles I couldn’t escape were intimidating. I sprinted up the hill away from the river as fast as I could to take the first available turning south. It was another A road, but an improvement. Not for the first time today I now found that my imaginary line really didn’t coincide well on the ground with the local road network. I pulled off the road a few miles on to survey my options and found I was outside a huge cycling store, which the owner was just closing for the day. We chatted and he began giving me complicated directions that, after a few stages, I couldn’t possibly retain. It seemed like you had to turn every time you reached a pub, but he didn’t know the pub names.
But I was close now and I think I probably did what he meant, which at least cut down on main roads for a while. A few miles later I was at the bottom of the distinctive Malvern Hills, that rise from the Severn Valley quite abruptly. The town of Great Malvern took a little more reaching, but it was worth it. It sits up high on the side of one of the hills and looks down dramatically on the plains to the east. You can see for many miles out across the Vale of Evesham and Bredon Hill, and over towards the Cotswolds. Some of the properties here have incredible views. Tonight, the sky had decided to clear for the last hour of daylight and the whole scene was bathed in bright, golden evening sunlight. It was breathtaking.
The buildings around me, however, were in the shadow of the hillside and so I was looking out from shade. Despite this, the grandeur of the town was obvious. There were splendid hotels and shops, Georgian and Victorian masterpieces. Just below, at about eye level, was the beautiful mediaeval tower of Malvern Abbey, with elaborate carved stone pinnacles at each corner. This is definitely somewhere to return to with company. It needs exploring, and the hills need climbing. I did some of that myself, taking a road that maintained a comfortable gradient for a couple of miles until it crested the hill. I was suddenly hit by bright sunlight and more endless views on the other side, with the setting sun a ball of yellow fire on the horizon, behind the surprisingly hilly landscape of Herefordshire. The hill I had just climbed was now illuminated bright green behind me on its western flanks. I descended a couple of miles and then I was there, at my black and white half timbered hotel in Colwall Park. It all seems quite lovely here. I was warmly welcomed and served fine ale and food. After a not entirely wonderful day of cycling, it was a splendid finish indeed!
