“There’s no inflow or outflow on any of these lakes,” says Stan, leaning on his walking stick.
I stare across Cole Mere’s fifty-two acres of water. “You must get a lot of rain here then!”
He chuckles. “Ten thousand years ago, it was mainly ice. I’ve not lived here that long, though!”
Thankfully, it’s a gloriously sunny day for my visit.
“Some like to call it Shropshire’s Lake District,” Stan continues. “But when you’re strolling along The Mere in town, it’s more like Shropshire by the Sea.”
I frown. “The nearest coastline is forty miles away.”
He winks. “You’ll know it when you see it.”
And with that, he strides off along the path towards the sailing club.
I love these conversations with locals because I never know what I might learn. I’d only stopped Stan to ask him if I could walk into Ellesmere from here.
Cole Mere is one of nine large lakes, or meres, as they are known around here, dotted around the Shropshire town of Ellesmere. They were created during the last Ice Age when enormous blocks of ice broke off from the retreating glaciers.
These gigantic ice cubes sank into the soft soil, creating a cauldron or kettle-shaped impression in the ground, which is why they’re sometimes called kettle hole lakes. When the ice melted, the water was trapped, forming these vast ponds.
Cole Mere is also a local nature reserve and an SSSI (site of special scientific interest), thanks to its abundance and diversity of wildlife.
There’s a cacophony of birdsong as I stroll through the oak, ash, birch, and alder trees. The mere is popular with waders and geese, and lucky visitors sometimes glimpse an otter or two.
My path suddenly climbs a steep embankment and I emerge onto a towpath beside Bridge 54. I have found even more water.
It’s the Llangollen Branch of the Shropshire Union Canal, which was built by William Jessop and Thomas Telford in the late 18th century.
They planned a canal system to connect the River Mersey near Netherpool, with the River Dee at Llangollen, and the River Severn at Shrewsbury.
By the early 19th century, Netherpool was a such bustling port thanks to the canal, it became widely known as Ellesmere Port.
Following the canal northwards, I pass Blake Mere on my right. There’s no public access to this forty-acre lake. In fact, the public can only explore three of the nine lakes here.
An approaching tunnel forces me to rummage in my rucksack for a torch. Although I can see light at the other end, the Ellesmere Canal Tunnel stretches for eighty metres.
By the time I reach the middle, I can barely see where to put my feet. Thank heavens there’s a railing to stop me from falling in!
As I emerge into daylight, something catches my eye on the towpath. It’s a sculpture in the shape of a canal boat fender, which is that coil of rope at the front of canal boats to protect them if they bump into the canal side.
This is one of several sculptures dotted around town as part of Ellesmere’s magnificent sculpture trail. It began life in 2006 as part of a European project but has since expanded and continues to grow today.
The towpath takes me over the entrance to Blackwater Meadow Marina, where many holidaymakers start their boating holiday, and then I pass another sculpture called Aqueduct Bench.
This was inspired by the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct in nearby Wales, where the canal crosses one hundred and twenty-six feet above the River Dee. Thankfully, the bench is the right height on which to perch and watch a few boats pass by.
Ahead is a large junction, where the canal turns left towards Llangollen. The big house on the corner is Beech House, where Thomas Telford worked while the canal was being built.
Crossing over to the other side of the canal, I pass another sculpture called Ellesmere Boat. It looks like a canal boat coming out of the ground. At the bottom is a poem, hinting at the industry that once thrived here at Ellesmere Wharf.
Unlike the peaceful scene today, this was once a hive of heavy industry, where workers maintained, loaded, and unloaded boats, and plied their trade.
Boats filled with coal from Wrexham and Ruabon travelled through here towards the Black Country and its furnaces. Iron from the ironworks clustered around Chirk, and limestone from Llanymynech’s quarries, all passed through here, while farmers used the canals to transport agricultural products to the West Midlands and parts of the North West.
A vast warehouse dominates Ellesmere Wharf near the town centre. This was also the Shropshire Union Railways and Canal Company’s administrative headquarters from 1813.
Opposite stands a modern supermarket, but this used to be the site of the Ellesmere Creamery until it closed in 1987. When the canal was built, this was the site of the Bridgewater Foundry, which produced a variety of iron products.
While I can’t see much evidence of Shropshire by the Sea yet, you could say the town of Ellesmere is much travelled. During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, it switched back and forth between England and Wales, either as a gift by monarchs to loyal supporters, or via marriage.
It was the Laws of Wales Act of 1535 that finally handed Ellesmere back to the English county of Shropshire, where it has remained ever since.
Georgian and timber-framed properties line Ellesmere’s narrow streets, housing a variety of independent retailers. One imposing building at the end of the High Street is The Old Town Hall.
Now home to an estate agent, it used to have an open air market on the ground floor, and a fine assembly room on the first floor. Over the years, this has been home to the Mechanics Institute, the Town Museum, and even the town’s cinema.
If local folklore is to be believed, when it was built in the early 1830s, the ground was so soft it had to be built on piles that sank thirty feet into the ground.
From the High Street, I wander up St John’s Hill, lined with terraced cottages. This is one of the oldest parts of town, with cottages existing along this road since the 13th century.
Just off St John’s Hill is Church Street and St Mary’s Church. The architectural historian Nikolaus Pevsner described this church as “one of the finest in Shropshire.”
A vast tower sits at the centre of the building, making St Mary’s only one of nine churches in Shropshire to have a central tower. The base dates from the early fourteenth century and its Perpendicular-style upper half was added in the fifteenth century.
Inside are the stone effigies of Sir Francis Kynaston and his wife. Sir Francis was an MP for Shropshire in 1554, and a local legend suggests he was knighted and served Elizabeth I as a cup-bearer, although there don’t appear to be any records to corroborate this. However, Elizabeth I did present him with a copy of the New Testament, so the two definitely met at some point.
Just below St Mary’s is Cremorne Gardens, where another of Ellesmere’s famous residents is honoured. These landscaped gardens and parkland are home to the Jebb Memorial Garden.
Ellesmere is the birthplace of Eglantyne Jebb and her sister, Dorothy Buxton. Together, in 1919, they founded the Save The Children charity.
In 2024, the Princess Royal, who is also a patron of the charity, visited the garden, where she explored some of the child-themed sculptures that also form part of Ellesmere’s Sculpture Trail.
Tall bullrushes shield my view, but suddenly I glimpse The Mere, the largest of Ellesmere’s lakes. At over 113 acres, it is also one of England’s largest natural lakes outside of Cumbria’s Lake District.
There is a surprising variety of sculptures hidden among the trees here, including a giant bee hovering above a bee hotel. My favourite is a five-letter wooden sculpture called Sshhh. And yes, if I close my eyes, all I can hear is the wind whispering through the leaves.
Across the mere, I spy St Mary’s tower dominating the skyline, and what looks like a boathouse and an ice cream stall.
I retrace my steps through the gardens, this time spotting some of the exotic trees that form part of the garden’s tree trail. The Giant Sequoia is difficult to miss!
And then I see it.
As I leave Cremorne Gardens, I join a wonderfully wide, flat promenade lined with trees and benches, where the water of The Mere laps against the side, and ducks, geese, and even seagulls patrol, looking for any food offerings from visitors.
I remember Stan’s comment. Yes, The Mere is so vast, walking along the promenade here is just like being at the seaside. I’ve found Shropshire by the Sea.
Which can only mean one thing. Time to buy an ice cream!
© Simon Whaley