Arthur day 3

With day 3 came to awareness of the climb that I had before me today, the campsite was quiet with a slight mist covering the sleeping field, I packed away and made some much needed breakfast, sitting quietly in a chair by the shower block and watching the world slowly come to life, I had but one destination in mind today before camp and no real time frame set, I have to say I was thoroughly enjoying the cycling life, this was so much easier than running everywhere.

My original route planned for me to head across the Stapeley Hills and up into Shrewsbury, being further down I opted to take the roads that ran from the back of Runnis Meadow and heading up towards the bog, the roads here spoke of little use, moss and grass grew in the middle of the road, sheep fed with out care whilst birds of prey zoomed across the sky.

I followed the road around Radley Hill and was some climbing up towards The bog a once busy mining village and now only a few houses remain from the 200 that would of stood there, a visitors center is there but being early was closed so no early stop off for tea and cake.

I passed by Pennerley towards the the Stiperstone and onto Snailbeach where a large mine now awaits the intrepid explorer views greeted me from the gained elevation and I took a few moments here to appreciate the early morning view.

Eventually I headed down and into Pontesbury where a quick stop at the church for a snack, with ample time ahead of me, I followed a bridleway down and into Pontesford Hill, It was nice to have some off road riding for a short time, the steep rocky descent gave way to a muddy rutted tracked that threaded the bottom of Earls Hill fort, another great Iron age construction and finally appearing again onto the roads and onwards todays Montford Bridge and into Baschurch.

I took a rest here on a handy bench, here a chap out on his mobility scooter stopped to chat with me, people were much more willing to chat to me on the bike, if I had been running and camping I would of been avoided like the plague. He told me that he had early stages of dementia but still had enough about him to be independant, I let him chat away telling me about the many cars he had owned, my own current travel and then we were treated to a cracking view of the Bentley owners club outing, along with some rather amazing pre 1950s motors.

We said our good byes and I headed off to my destination for today, Berth hill sits just outside of Baschurch and you’d be forgiven for passing it by as nothing suggest it is there, I turned off the main road and onto a track that passed by a few houses, I knew there was no public access here and with some distance from the track there was no real easy way for me to wander across the field.

The Berth is quite a unique feature, Owain Ddantgwyn had been a king of Powys, and, astonishingly, the burial site of the kings of Powys was also revealed in the Song of Llywarch the Old, the work that relates how the Powys king Cynddylan had been a direct descendant of King Arthur. According to the author, Cynddylan was buried at a place called the “Churches of Bassa”, and that his predecessors, the former kings of Powys, were buried here too. As this included Owain Ddantgwyn, it would seem that the Churches of Bassa could well be the final resting place of King Arthur himself. The place today is called Baschurch and may well be to final resting place of the great King Arthur.

For it’s low lying position , the berth consist of 2 interconnected islands in what appears to be a lake with a causeway connecting them, in all of my travels and experiences of Iron age constructions I have yet to see anything that looks quite like this. There has been very little in the way of archeology here, not even any scans of the structures, it seems such a shame that something as simple as a scan could not be conducted by historic England, what could be an amazingly important sight has yet to give up its secrets.

I stopped at a lovely little farm shop outside of Baschurch and grabbed some much needed food, a rest inside away from the burning sun and I was again on my way, Brownhill, Ruyton XI towns, before popping past Nescliffe and onto my final camp of the evening Cranberry Moss.

Despite its close location to the main ring road, it was fairly quiet and I was able shower and reset, before eating a large amount of food including 2 rather delicious Cornish pasties and 2 more boiled eggs in my freeze dried food. This was living.

I settled into my early finish, it seemed slightly odd given my scurrying for a camp spot in days past, the scrambling through undergrowth and the ever present fear of being caught somewhere, now I relax in peace the sun warming my aching body. I did have to move a few time as the sun began to burn my exposed skin. With tent erected and airing my gear I made use of the shower block making a brew afterwards and listening to pod cast as I drifted in and out of sleep.

The site was deathly quiet come 10pm and despite the hum of the busy dual carriageway only a feet away I settled into a