Barney heads off to Shropshire to try to answer a question which has been bugging him – why are there so many good riders from such a quiet county?

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BARNEY MARSH

ADVENTURE

Quests are nebulous things. The definition is suitably vague – “the search for something”, but it’s fair to say that journeys are involved. An uncovering. And perhaps, if you’re very lucky, a big reveal. I’d not go so far as to require an epiphany, but something hiding in plain sight that suddenly becomes obvious? That’ll do nicely. I fancied a good quest. I fancied sallying forth to uncover some age-old secret or two. Perhaps I could amass a motley crew of latter-day knights with whom I could gallivant around the countryside, righting wrongs and rescuing people from peril? Or, perhaps it might be more accurate to replace the word ‘people’ with ‘beer’. And the word ‘peril’ with ‘fridges’.

It had long niggled me that I knew so little of Shropshire. I’d ridden the Long Mynd, sure – and a wonderful thing it is too – but I’d always skirted over the county’s other charms en route to more conspicuous trails in either North or South Wales. But gradually it dawned on me that Shropshire seemed to be rather over-blessed with good riders. Very, very good riders. People like Helen Mortimer, Marc Beaumont, Neil Donoghue, Andrew Titley, Neil Halcrow – and there are plenty more.

This seems odd, considering it’s not blessed with huge mountains or an overabundance of people – in fact, it’s one of the least populous counties in England. So what is it about Shropshire that breeds competence on a mountain bike? A need to investigate rammed its way into my brain like an overlarge pimento into a particularly dense olive. A quest!