Reinforced Aerated Hills, Anyone?

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Jane & I went on a bit of a jaunt today - as I hinted we would last night - aiming to visit the site of an old lead mine near here at the splendidly if rather, apparently, anachronistically named Snailbeach. Considering how far away from the sea we are here, I figured it had to be derived from an archaic form such as Old English; and so it transpired on digging into it. The 'beach' bit of the name is a Shropshire dialect form of OE 'baece' or stream-valley, so forming 'Snail Valley'. As to whether the place has or ever had an inordinately large number of resident said gastropods, I can't say, but I'd hazard a guess that 'snail' is also an archaicism of some sort. 

We eventually found the place, and very interesting it turned out to be, too: it's having produced the largest quantity of lead per acre in Europe during its lifespan; and with the site now made safe and open to visitors - including occasional guided underground tours - through the efforts of volunteers and the county, it stands in memoriam to those who worked and oft-times died there in the course of their labours, or on their retirement through the inevitable miners' lung diseases. We sat and ate a sandwich whilst talking about what we'd just seen, and then decided to head to The Stiperstones Inn, in the nearby village of Stiperstones, which sits, natch, at the foot of The Stiperstones, a famous Shropshire ridge, whose rock formations, are, in local folklore said to have been created by the devil 'imself.

After a pint and a squint at the OS map, we decided to wing it and head towards home by whatever route presented itself - en route - so to speak. After a short distance, Jane spotted yet another red brick chimney jutting out of the landscape, so we decided to stop and see what it was. We'd already learned from the information boards at Snailsbeach that the lead mining industry was widespread in this area, and duly discovered that this random find was indeed another lead mine: the equally splendidly named Tankerville mine, its chimney and pump engine house pictured above, it having been, in its time, the richest and deepest mine in the area. The only general, outward, clue as to the incredible number of adits, shafts and tunnels honeycombing what is now an apparently pre-industrial idyll of rolling Shropshire hills, is the occasional road sign warning 'Road liable to subsidence'. Fascinating. Possibly more later...


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