An Unexpected Journey: Adventures in Herefordshire

Well, maybe not 'unexpected' we'd been planning it for a couple of months! BUT, given that we were going to be walking in the lee of the Black Mountains, staying at the Green Dragon all surrounded by the rolling pastures and hills reminiscent of The Shire, a Tolkein-adjacent title felt appropriate.

Early September 2025; Ma and I work out how to fit three days of clothes, waterproofs and board games into two individual rucksacks and set off on a three-day Herefordshire walking mini-break, with Hereford as our hub, and a loose plan to borrow sections of the Golden Valley Pilgrim Way (pilgrimage trail energy, but with more pubs and fewer overnight stops in churches). Our itinerary looked beautifully neat on paper; a spreadsheet had been involved and everything. Reality, as ever when on the trail, had different ideas featuring weather, hedges, mud, and the occasional 'where the hell are we?' moment.

Day 0: Hereford, the Mappa Mundi, chained library and good intentions

We came in by train from Horley, arriving Hereford mid-afternoon, and checked into the Green Dragon on Broad Street (very useful that they’ll take your bags before check-in).  Then we went straight to Hereford Cathedral for the Mappa Mundi and the Chained Library (last entry is 1630hrs, so worth keeping an eye on the clock). 

Evening view of Hereford Cathedral

The Mappa Mundi , as a maps enthusiast, something I have wanted to see for some time. It certaintly didn't disappoint; this remarkable medieval artefact dates from c.1300 and is as much a religious as a geogrpahical depiction of the world as it was understood at the time, featuring heaven, hell and the path to salvation. Never found those on an OS map. It is equal parts map, moral lesson, and medieval 'here's Jason's Golden Fleece' confidence. It’s also a good reminder that navigation has always been interpretive. Useful foreshadowing. My personal favourite? Where to find the Sciapods a race of people with one very large foot that they used to shield themselves from the sun.

A sciapod, apparently to be found in India

We took in the chained library as well; as a (apparently amateur but you could have fooled me) bookbinder Ma was particularly interested in this incredible collection of some 1,500 books dating from 800AD to the early 19 century. The unusual bit is that they are all chained together, a practice common in the 17th century, but now this remains the only functioning chained library in the world.

Chained books....

Following our spot of culture we took advantgae of the excellent bar at the Green Dragon and went for dinner at The Bookshop, a civilised, sensible plan. This remained true for at least the first part of the evening, until we spotted the cocktail bar back at the hotel, at which point all sensible intentions were quietly but decisively abandoned.

Day 1: Kingstone → Dore Abbey → Longtown

After hearty breakfast we took the 39A bus from Hereford Country Bus Station (stand 5) to Kingstone. There was an 'Option A' involving walking 29km from Hereford, but we chose 'Option B: bus like civilised people'.

From Kingstone we walked towards Longtown, a distance of some 20km. We started off well, well waymarked paths over gently undulating landscape, albeit with a little rain to start our day. It didn't last however, as we fell foul of freshly turned fields with clay earth sticking to our boots and adding 5kg per foot in sticky, sticky mud. Picking our way along the edges of fields added to our distance and made for hard going. This was compounded by a clearly marked gate failing to materialise. I would like to say we calmly rerouted, but that was not an option. So naturally we ended up pushing ourselves through a blackthorn hedge while reassuring each other with the kind of soothing narration you reserve for toddlers and nervous animals. (We survived. Unscathed.)

We stopped for a break at Dore Abbey. Dore Abbey is one of those places that feels slightly improbable when you arrive; a great sweep of medieval stone sitting quietly in the Golden Valley, as if someone forgot to tell it the modern world had moved on. It began life as a Cistercian abbey, founded in 1147 established by monks connected to Morimond in France. Like most monasteries it didn’t survive the Dissolution, but what’s remarkable is how the story doesn’t end there; a large part of the church was later restored and brought back into use as the parish church. Today it’s not just a historic shell you tiptoe around it’s still a working community space, holding regular worship, while also embracing a second life as an arts and events venue. Indeed on the day we visited, the Abbey was hosting an arts festival (which also meant welcome tea and cake). It was one of those perfectly odd combinations; ancient abbey church coupled with traditional crafts and modern design, all framed by that slightly brooding Herefordshire countryside.

On leaving Dore Abbey we wended our way uphill and through the valleys taking in some spectacular views as we went; we really could be in the Shire! We checked into The Crown Inn, Longtown at about 6pm, later than planned, but very ready for a pint and some grub. It was a excellent pub night, a warm welcome, proper pints, and a plate of ham, egg and chips that tasted like manna from heaven. Couple of rounds of Jaipur and a plan for the next day formed, we retired.

Day 2: Longtown → Michaelchurch → Peterchurch

Day two was Longtown to Peterchurch (18km on the itinerary). First we stopped at Hopes of Longtown for packed lunch provisions. We also squeezed in Longtown Castle, a kilometre up the road from The Crown, which is small but atmospheric, but of course placed in exactly the place one would choose if one wanted to keep an eye on everyone coming up the valley, especially if one was a Norman border-lord dealing with the pesky Welsh.

We climbed a steady slope out of Longtown to beautiful views over the valley towards the Black Mountains, stopping at little churches and clambering stiles. We were forced into a road-based detour when we found the planned route fenced off at the bottom of a field; most irritating. Just prior to this I realised I had left my walking poles in a churchyard and had to walk/jog back about 2km to retrieve them. Not my finest moment. (If anyone needs a new training plan, 'panic-paced pole recovery' is apparently quite effective.)

This was also the day of:

• a fern-clad steep slope, which I descended on my backside because gravity had clearly entered a contractual relationship with the perilous hillside (Ma casually wandered down it in the more usual way);

• the weather, which suddenly escalated into terrible driving rain; and

• a genuinely lovely moment sheltering in Michaelchurch parish church, where someone had left hot chocolate for Golden Valley Way walkers, the kind of practical kindness that restores your faith in humanity faster than any sermon.

  
  

Even more impressively, I then left the poles again, this time by the roadside after the ascent out of Michaelchurch. At that point I simply… could not. I made a heartfelt decision to release them back into the ecosystem, where I assume they are either thriving in the hedgerow or living a new and full life with a grateful following walker.

We checked into Hinton Land Glamping yurt field in Peterchurch at around 5pm, and enjoyed a hearty repast of sausage and mash in the Nags Head pub. The yurt was gorgeous, a clever arrangement of tent (with a woodburner), small kitchen and toilet with a shared shower block that opened up onto fabulous field views. We were hosted by the delightful Tina, who provisioned us with milk and snacks.

Weary bones welcomed a warm and comfortable night's sleep.

Day 3: Peterchurch → Hereford

Day 3, on paper, had definite ambitions. Our itinerary helpfully noted check-out at 11am, and even floated an 'Option A' involving walking the 21km back to Hereford (via Clehonger, lunch at the Seven Stars, and even a detour to St Peter’s Well for a final pilgrimage flourish) before the 1518hrs train back to Surrey. In reality, Day 3 was the day we embraced the true golden rule of long-distance walking; know when to stop.

We pootled around Peterchurch village for a bit (Robert Jones VC, of Rorke's Drift fame is buried here) and then got the bus back from Peterchurch to Hereford, reclaimed our urban selves (and some burgers and fries to eat on the train), and let the valley keep the rest of its miles, along with, presumably, at least one pair of walking poles.

This was a fabulous introduction to walking in a glorious, storied and rather untouched part of the world, honestly reflecting something of the bucolic paradise that is presented in Tolkein's Shire. Its beauty belies some genuinely challenging walking. A huge shout out to Ma who was a first time multi-day walker, but met the challenge, and my casual 'only a gentle slope' asides, with great aplomb. I'm sure she would agree with me that the effort was well worth it to really connect with this landscape, its history and pace of life.