Black Hill and the Black Mountains from 60 Miles away: Visual Amenity as Inspiration

Following on from my blog of 11th August ( Windmills etc: Visual Amenity, What’s it for?) I must tell you of one of the highlights of our latest trip when our caravan came to rest in the Clent hills, in the Black Country: the place where the great wealth of our nation started to be generated from the 18th century onwards. From Coalbrookdale to climate change is such a small step but there is much still to be done to reverse this deadly drift, as G.K. Chesterton puts it, ‘before we go to paradise by way of Kensal Green’.

Having made the climb to Clent summit the views are magnificent, from city sprawl through to Housman’s ‘blue remembered hills’ of Shropshire, and of Worcestershire, Herefordshire and Gloucestershire. For us it was the view to the west which meant the most. Sixty miles away among the haze was our part of the world. At the top of this list was Hay Bluff, Black Hill and the line of the Cats Back with the Sugar Loaf insisting on being seen in the far distance. For such a comparatively easy walk this must be the most rewarding climb in the region.

Whilst taking in the contrasts of rural and industrial landscape I got talking to an elderly, sprightly gentleman who was a life member of the CTC. He had lived all his life in Sutton Coalfield and said he valued the contrasts of his region. Looking towards Hay Bluff, this veteran t recounted his cycle ride as a young man to Brecon with his fellow CTC members. The traditional meeting place was the Temple of Remembrance in the city centre, with an 8 am start on a Saturday morning. Instead of the route the crow might take from Clent, the cyclists route would be winding and lengthy. The first section was to Hereford and then out along the Brecon Road, crossing the river at Bridge Sollars and on to Hay-on-Wye from Madley via Hardwicke.

We both recalled the methods of cycling in large groups in the fifties and how the occasional vehicle was assisted in passing several dozen cyclists by making sure that there were ample gaps in the column for the overtaking car or lorry. A Tail Ender cyclist would warn of an over taker with the call, ‘Oil Up’, while a leading rider would call ‘Oil Down’ for one coming in the other direction.

Main road cycling in the fifties at weekends was rarely a problem, and my veteran friend told me that he was still riding on main roads up until the early seventies. By then the speed and volume of the traffic had reduced the pleasures of the open road while increasing the risk. I think cycling in some towns has now reached that point with added risk of being knocked down as a pedestrian by cyclists in pedestrian precincts!

Having passed through Hay-on-Wye, the Brecon YHA was reached just after 5pm. Returning by a different route on the Sunday ensured a varied, affordable and refreshing weekend for the cyclists of his generation. For the present generation of cyclists it is probably wiser to avoid busy roads as much as possible and support segregated cycle routes whenever possible.

This meeting so inspired Sian that she has decided that I should upgrade from my 1957 Dawes Clansman to something a bit lighter. I collect it, still a Dawes, from Master Craft Cycles of Hereford on Tuesday and we plan to make use of cycle routes beyond the reach of the car and lorry whenever possible. The car cycle rack has been retrieved from the shed ready for our next. Possibly the National Cycle Route along the Kennet and Avon Canal. See where a good view can end up.