Legend has it that the Stiperstones stand as evidence of a daring attempt by the Devil to destroy England - he was foiled when his apron strings broke, scattering all the rocks he’d gathered up in order to crush Shropshire. His ammo formed these quartzite granite hills, which are now covered in whortleberries, whinberries, heather and bracken.

If you’re looking for a trek through wild heathland which won’t take up more than an afternoon, the walk up the Stiperstones to the Devil’s Chair will give you some spectacular views of wild landscape – with some wild local lore thrown in. You can catch a shuttle bus out to the euphoniously named village of The Bog from Ludlow, but we chose to drive and park at the Bog Visitor’s Centre, once The Bog schoolhouse. The Centre, staffed by friendly volunteers, features displays of local artwork, a few bits and pieces for those die-hard Malcolm Saville fans who wanted to be Lone Piners as children, and most importantly, sells a little booklet of suggested walks around the area.

Watch out for Wild Edric

We chose a three mile circuit which would take us up past Bog Hill Farm, up around the Devil’s Chair and the summit, and then back down to The Bog carpark again. This was not too arduous a hike, but once you climb up into the heathland, the path is full of loose rocks and scree. While it can be tackled in trainers, walking boots might be advisable. According to legend, the Wild Hunt (led by Wild Edric, who sounds as if he’d be rather fun at parties) rides this way sometimes, so keep a wary eye out behind you for thundering ghostly hordes on horseback.

From half-way up the Stiperstones, you can look down and admire The Bog in miniature. The hamlet once had a mine, begun in the eighteenth century. It doesn't any more, although mine enthusiasts can go and inspect a closed-off mineshaft not too far away from the old schoolhouse. Don't ask me what the local Boggites do for a living nowadays as I’ve no idea.

...and for the Devil in a foul mood

Once you’ve struggled up the long slope, you can see that the granite outcrop called the Devil’s Chair is indeed shaped like a gigantic rocky throne, provided that you can pretend that a vast rocky bowl is vaguely throne-like. Should you so desire, it is entirely possible to scramble up into it and strike grandiose poses, although this might not be wise when a fog sits over the chair. As legend would have it, this means that the Devil himself is in situ - when a foul temper strikes him (as opposed to his usual phlegmatic good nature, one presumes), he comes and sits in the Devil's Chair, brooding threateningly over England.

 The legend varies as to whether the Devil was coming from Wales or Ireland when he made his last attempt, but in either version, it appears that the Devil is a Celt. From the Devil’s Chair, you can walk on to several more tors, firstly up to Manstone Rock at the summit, and then to Cranberry Rock. From up here, you can see the Long Mynd stretching out on one side of you, the Welsh mountains on the other, and the patchwork green hills of Shropshire rolling down to meet them.

Treacherous sheep

A final word of warning; once you’ve passed the Devil’s Chair, the path is not always clearly-marked, and the sheep which populate the Stiperstones have made their own little deceptive trails through the heather. As we learnt from bitter experience, short cuts taken down the vast slopes of loose scree will not turn out to be so very short after all. Ignore the treacherous sheep - it’s entirely possible that they’re in league with the Chair’s master.