Woolly says – When Jo had first announced the place we were going to I nearly spat my cornflakes over the panting beast, who knew there were beaches let alone snails in Shropshire! As we drove through the country lanes, I sat contemplating the fact that I really didn’t fancy snails, all slimy and gross and defiantly not on the list of a mammoth’s dietary needs, I kept my paws firmly crossed that our day out wasn’t go to conclude with a plate full of them to add to my new experiences in life. Arriving in the tiny village of Snailbeach I kept an eye on the ground in case I stepped on any of the offending creatures and hoped that the beach wouldn’t be far away. As we followed the signage, I finally decided that it might be a good idea to voice my concerns abut this member of the gastropod family.
I had to laugh at his concerned face and obvious horror of eating the dreaded snail, I’m not a fan myself. Having suppressed my mirth I told him that the name beach had probably derived from the Old English Baece( stream) or Bache (a steep wooded narrow valley) and that nearby streams would have been a good places to find snails, probably to eat in eras when people did that sort of thing.
Woolly says – Well, as long as now isn’t the time to bring the delicacy back I was happy. Having rounded a corner, I had my first view of Snailbeach Mine.
Dating back to Roman times the mine was the biggest lead mine in Shropshire and it is reputed to have yielded the greatest volume of lead per acre of any mine in Europe, which is a pretty impressive fact I felt.
It is almost certain that the Romans were extracting galena (lead ore) as a Roman pig of lead was found nearby and that mining was taking place almost continuously until 1955. During the Industrial Revolution demand for lead increased and with the advent of steam engines working the mine became more efficient. In the 1850s, when the mine was in full production, there were around 500 men working and living locally with their families. Towards the end of the 18th century most lead mines had closed down, due mainly due to cheap imports, but Snailbeach mine soldiered on until 1911. After that a small number of men mined Barytes from the unflooded areas until 1955. Left derelict and unused Shropshire Country Council started preserving it in the 1990’s and it became a Scheduled Monument in 1997.
We crossed over the old train tracks which would have once carried the ore from the mine to the processing areas and into Shropshire finding ourselves by a rather lovely ruined building with a circular window which had once been the crusher house where the rocks that had been brought up to the surface had been delivered and then battered into tiny pieces.
Alfie the Dog seemed quite excited to peer into what had once been a saw pit before we moved into the main area of buildings. The boiler house and chimney were most impressive with tiny tunnels just the right size for me but unlikely to fit a human into which made it difficult to know what they might have been used for.
We passed the main entrance to the mine, which is currently closed but for once we had been expecting that so there was no disappointment to face, which would have taken the miners over 1000 feet below ground to carry out the work. A huge wheel stood against the skyline and would have once gone deep into the hillside.
We stood looking over the white rubble that had come from the mine and the views over Shropshire, the waste material has now been made safe and used to plant wildflowers and trees.
Woolly says – Next came a winding engine house which was barred, craning my neck through I could see old timbers that would have once supported floors and pieces of track that had been long abandoned.
A pathway led us upwards and nearer to the huge chimney that poked above the tree tops, an inspection tunnel contained modern safety barriers but the real treat was just around the corner with a wonderful winding house and pumping area to inspect.
Having looked in every nook and cranny I was delighted to see that Jo had sat down and had magically produced some buns for us. The green foliage and bird song surrounded us where once there would have been the noise of men working, tools hitting hard surfaces, railways trucks clanging up and down the hillside and the shouts of workers as they moved around the site.
Having wiped my sticky paws on Jo’s jacket we set off upwards to see the most impressive chimney of all, the Resting Hill Chimney. Perched on the hillside it now blended into the woods peeking towards the sky. There was little that we could see inside but that didn’t stop my carer from shoving the camera through any hole available.
We climbed back down passing the refurbished ore house and stopping to look at the old train tracks that had once run for miles but now were a mere few yards and the former engine house that had little left to view.
A wonderful place made even better by the fact that we had only encountered two other people in the whole time we had been there. As we climbed into the car Jo mentioned that we had one more place to go, a couple of miles away was a town that we had driven through previously so I had a fair idea of what we were stopping to look at.
Minsterley is a small village with a population of less than 2000, its oldest building is the pub and it has a pretty war memorial next to Minsterley Brook which flows through the centre of the village. Having admired both we crossed back over the bridge that had originally been constructed in 1919 and headed into the place that Jo had in mind.
Holy Trinity Church was built in 1688 by the 1st Viscount Weymouth whose family later became the Marquesses of Bath. Brick built in a classical baroque style it was little delight.
Woolly says – Having passed it by road I had to agree that it was well worth stopping for a closer inspection. With its weather boarded belfry and the carvings over the door it was a small but incredible place.
We wandered round the grave yard looking at the tombs and headstones as well as admiring the 150-year-old redwoods that provided shade on a sunny day.
We arrived at the entrance that is now used just as the Vicar came out, a very cordial gent who told us abut the church and invited us to view inside, Alfie the Dog included. Due to refurbishment the old wooden pews were no more but the gallery and the alter were still lovely. Six maidens’ garlands hung down from the west gallery dating back to 1726 which would have been placed on the graves of young maidens who had died before marriage had taken place. A showcase allowed me to look much more closely at the workmanship of the paper crowns which looked far more intricate close up and I was able to see the cloth and paper that they had been fashioned from.
The altar was simple as was the general décor with lovely high beamed ceilings it had a feeling of the old meeting the modern in an acceptable manner.
As we walked back to the car, we were a happy bunch and not a single snail had crossed our path let along my plate all day which could only be good.