I’ll never forget the drive to our holiday cottage in Shropshire – a proper British road trip that started with high hopes and ended with me wrestling a flat tyre just outside Church Stretton. We’d left Birmingham early, buzzing with that arrival anticipation, dreaming of fresh air and no emails. But halfway there, on a narrow lane flanked by those rolling Shropshire hills, the car decided to throw a wobbly. Thank goodness for the AA man who turned up in the nick of time, and soon enough we were trundling up to this stylish little property, four miles from Shrewsbury. First impressions? Spot on. Cosy, welcoming, with views that made you forget the tyre drama instantly.

We’d booked it as a base for walking – Shropshire’s got some cracking hikes right on the doorstep, perfect for us lot who love a good stomp in the countryside. Church Stretton’s ideal for that, nestled in the Shropshire Hills with paths for all abilities. Day one, the sun was out, rare as hen’s teeth, so we headed straight for the Long Mynd. That first hike up to the top was pure magic – heather buzzing with bees, skylarks overhead, and those panoramic views stretching for miles. We picnicked by a burbling stream, feeling like proper explorers. I even managed a cheeky sprint to the trig point, though my other half laughed at my red-faced puffing.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Next morning, we planned a gentle loop around the Caer Caradoc hill, one of the area’s classics with ancient fort vibes at the summit. Grey skies rolled in as we set off, but we pressed on, chatting about nothing much. Halfway up, the heavens opened – proper horizontal rain that turned the path into a slip-and-slide. We hunkered down under a tree, soaked to the skin, sharing soggy sandwiches and giggling like kids. “This is character-building,” I declared, while secretly wondering if I’d ever feel my toes again. It forced a rethink; instead of battling to the top, we veered off onto a lower woodland trail, dodging puddles and spotting deer in the mist. Turned out better than planned – quieter, more intimate, with that fresh post-rain earthy smell.

The weather kept us on our toes the whole week. A misty day took us along the pretty paths near Much Wenlock – just a short drive away – where we wandered past the old priory ruins, the air thick with damp magic. No epic vistas, but the closeness of it all felt special. Then a surprise sunny spell lured us back to the Long Mynd for a longer trek, this time tackling the Portway, an old drovers’ path with burbling brooks and unexpected viewpoints. We timed it right, catching the light just so on the valleys below.

Looking back, those weather-whipped walks were the highlight. They taught me something – I’m a fair-weather hiker at heart, but there’s joy in adapting, in letting the hills and the skies dictate the pace. Shropshire’s walks aren’t just about the distance; they’re about the moments, wet or dry. We left fitter, happier, and already plotting a return. If you fancy ditching the daily grind for some proper Shropshire striding, you won’t be disappointed.