‘The river Severn is the UK’s longest river, running for 220 miles from the Welsh mountains, through the beautiful Shropshire and Worcestershire countryside and down to the flatlands of the Severn estuary’
Leaving the Lyn Peninsula behind, myself and David arrived for the second week of our September 2024 holiday at the small village of Eardiston in the Lindridge District of the Malvern Hills. Please feel free to come with me on a short journey around the area.
Standing in Eardiston in Worcestershire on the banks of the river Teme is Meadows Mill; a mill mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086. In records written by the monks of St Mary’s in Worcester, the mill is referred to as Mol De Medewye, meaning ‘on the way to the mead or meadow’. It is also stated that the annual rental for the mill was to be paid to the priory at a rate of six marks per year. A mark was worth two-thirds of a pound (or 13s 4d), converting to around £486 now according to a quick Internet search. Records show that the Moore family were the millers for many years.
The last mill wheel to be installed at the mill was seventeen feet in diameter; it was cast and installed in 1840 by G. Turton, iron founders, of Kidderminster. When milling ceased some years later it was sold off for scrap for a few hundred pounds. In the Ordnance Survey map of 1903 the mill was listed as disused. It was converted into a summerhouse in the 1950s by the Wallaces of Eardiston House.
The mill is now a holiday cottage and was our home for the week. The river Teme is a few feet behind where I’m standing to take this photo. Where the mill wheel used to be there is now a balcony where you can sit and watch the wildlife, kingfishers, squirrels etc. Following periods of heavy rain when the river is in flood the water has been known to reach almost to the level of the balcony; the cellar floods completely and is often full of mud.
Fortunately for us this week the water levels were normal; the above photo was taken from the bottom of the garden, looking upstream to where a weir used to be.
A short walk away from the cottage there is quite a long section of the river which belongs to Birmingham Angling Association. If you didn’t previously know this, you are quickly made aware by the enormous quantity of bright yellow signs fastened to trees, gates, stiles and fences informing you to keep out and go away unless you are a member.
David is a member (I am not) but they don’t own the fields so there was nothing to stop me from taking a pleasant circular walk of around two miles along the edge of the river, then by the side of Dumbleton Brook and back round to the cottage. There are several fishing spots (or swims as I understand they are called) on the left of the photo through the trees. David tried a few but I fail to remember the success rates at catching anything. I’m often told but the information gets pushed aside by other (important) stuff.
On one section of the walk I was surprised to spot in the distance a field of sunflowers which were still in bloom. Some other fields I’d seen were all dead, the heads hanging, waiting for the seeds to be harvested. There was no footpath and they were behind a wire fence; not to be deterred, I did a little exploring and found an overgrown public footpath and a stile which led directly into the field, so I was able to get my photograph.
Although we’ve stayed in this area before, there were a few places we still were eager to explore; one was the town of Stourport-on-Severn.
The five canal basins in the historic heart of the town are managed by the Canal & River Trust. The basins were the key to Stourport’s origin as a canal town in the late 1700s. They have been restored, regenerated and returned to their original splendour, during major works which were completed in 2008. They are now home to around 100 boats and narrow boats; we thought that this area was by far the nicest part of the town.
The above photo is of Stourport Basin, taken from the bridge at Mart Lane, a short walk from where I took the previous picture. The building opposite, with the clock tower, is the home to Stourport Yacht Club. The white building on the left is The Wharf public house. Next door to them I believe are the offices of the Canal & River Trust who are responsible for maintaining the canal basins.
A short walk from the town, away from the hustle and bustle is a nice quiet stretch of the River Severn. Just visible in the distance a boat is making its way along the river, having just left the canal basin in the town. The river Severn is the UK’s longest river, running for 220 miles from the Welsh mountains, through the beautiful Shropshire and Worcestershire countryside and down to the flatlands of the Severn estuary. It is also the river with the most voluminous flow of water by far in all of England and Wales.
A couple of days after our visit to Stourport David wanted to fish a section of the river Severn near to the town of Bewdley. As luck would have it, this little town was one on my list of places of interest to see.
Having left David, fishing gear and the car at a place called Blackstone, I walked the mile or so into the town along The Severn Way. Arriving in town, I was a little disappointed to find that several roads were closed due to construction work on what appeared to be flood defences. Half of the bridge across the river was also blocked with temporary traffic lights at either end. It quickly became apparent that photography was going to be a bit of a challenge today. With the workmen and all their diggers and equipment just behind me, I managed to take this picture of the side of the river which was undisturbed.
Bewdley is a Georgian town and is in an area with a rich agricultural and industrial history. It provides a gateway to the Wyre Forest and the English–Welsh borderlands known as The Marches (from the thirteenth century Middle English word ‘marches’ meaning ‘border region’).
It is well worth a visit for walks through the surrounding woodland and also to see the museum, which is one of the best I’ve visited in a long time.
Following the path along the river out of town in the opposite direction from which I’d entered, I came across a totally unexpected and interesting looking structure, seemingly at one time a bridge, but now with the vital bit missing. On the map I was looking at via my phone, there was a church shown here but no mention of this. Turned out there was no church and I had no idea where it had vanished to? All I found was a large dense patch of brambles. Later in the day, following some research, I did gather some information from Bewdley Rotary Club.
The bridge is called Dowles Bridge.
In 1864 the first steam train travelled on the Wyre Forest line from Bewdley to Tenbury. It ran north from Bewdley station for a distance of about a mile on a single line track alongside the Severn Valley Railway, before diverging to the west to cross the river Severn at Dowles Bridge. It would have stopped at a station in the Wyre Forest before progressing to Cleobury Mortimer. In 1965 the last train did the same journey and it was in 1966 that the girder bridge was removed just leaving the pillars as a memorial.
The idea of linking the two sides of the River at Dowles by means of a footbridge has been mooted in the past by Bewdley Rotary Club and other bodies in the town. However,the feasibility has never been progressed. I gathered from this that it was going to be maybe one day, or maybe not, that it would be re-built.
The day was getting very warm so I made my return journey by retracing my footsteps back to the bridge in the town.
One last photo from the bridge of the buildings along the river front which were quickly vanishing into shadow. After taking this shot I made my way back along the Severn Way to where I’d left David several hours previously. I’d had a really good day, despite the building works; it soon became apparent that the fishing wasn’t quite so successful but it’s not my place to go into that!
The week had passed all too quickly but the weather had been wonderful, apart from one overcast morning. We’d been very fortunate and, as luck would have it, I was in the right place at the right time, well nearly. I had to make a 500 metre dash up the lane to get a final picture of our holiday, with the sun setting beyond the potato fields near our cottage; a glorious end to another enjoyable trip to this part of the world. We shall no doubt be back but as yet I’m not sure when.
Writing & Images – Ruth Craine, Lincolnshire Winter 2024
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