Meighs Wood
185 Meters
606 Feet
19th May 2026
Bluebells, leaks and Laybys.
From Corley Moor, the highest point in Coventry Metro Borough, it was just a short drive to Chapel Green, then a left down Fillongly Road and at a point in the road that bore a resemblance to my mind map of the area, a muddy layby appeared on the left and I pulled over.
A hundred meters ahead, on the other side of the road and beyond a hedge, a line of trees marked where dense woods met a large field. I climbed out of the car. This wasn’t going to take long. As I started down the road, a car pulled round the bend in the road to the south and abruptly stopped at a layby on the opposite side of the road. The driver’s door opened and out jumped a man who, without further ado, marched beyond the car and up to the hedge, where quite obviously he proceeded to have a leak. It might have been just at that moment that he saw me approaching on the other side of the road.
To protect his modesty, I naturally slowed my pace and pretended to look at something that might have been interesting beyond the trees on my side of the road. Whatever it was that I was interested in failed to hold my attention for too long and by necessity I continued in his direction. By now he had finished his essentials (at least I assumed he had, but I’m sure most of us – men – have been in that unsatisfying position of being desperate, only to be denied for some unaccountable reason), and had skipped back into his car. He drove on and I crossed over.
Just past the layby a gap in a fence gave access to the woodland, and just to the right another gap in a fence gave access to the north facing field. The field was cultivated, but a wide strip of land adjacent to the woods suggested some form of set aside, which I now understand to be a “cereal field margin”, land that is left uncultivated to encourage wildlife diversity. I’d heard of it but as far as I could remember, never actually seen it before. It looked great. I’m sure that there are arguments against such wokery, but it makes sense to me.
I walked towards the top of the field and along the edge of the woods. Ahead, spilling out of the woods and into the margin, a wave of bluebells in their prime. Quite a surprise given that all around me down south had come and gone already.
On the crest of a wave
I stopped and noticed a humble bee dancing between the flowers coronets and got down close to observe. Despite my close proximity, it had zero interest in me. Too fixated on task and outcome. I recently heard that a worker bee only lives a few weeks and, in that time, makes, creates, generates, just a fraction of a teaspoon of honey. No retirement, no pension, just a grinding few weeks contributing to the greater good before it’s all over. I can’t predict the future but with AI and the ever-continuing concentration of the world’s wealth by a small few, maybe there was some sort of metaphor evolving in front of me.
Inspecting the larder
I carried on a short distance. There was a gap into the woods. I entered, but only just. Somewhere around this point was Solihull’s highest elevation. Although Peak Bagger names the highest point as Meighs Woods, their own map seems to suggest the woods I was at were called Stocked Woods, and Meighs Wood was over the road where I had parked up. I looked back out and across the field. A leaden sky, but the forecast was for something different. Up until a day or so before the nights had been cold, and the days cool and stormy. By Friday that was all going to change.
The high point – Stocked Woods
I drove away from the layby. The destination was Much Wenlock for three nights. Whilst I had reached the highest point in Solihull, the road I took to get me back onto the M6 somehow managed to avoid contact with any of the town’s urban sprawl. Oh well, so it goes.
El Colmado 57 