The true story of one of Shropshire's most enduring folklore tales — and the myths that grew around it.
On the evening of 29 January 1865, a clergyman was crawling on his hands and knees through twenty-foot snowdrifts on the Long Mynd, blind, bootless, and given up for dead. The Reverend Edmund Donald Carr's twenty-two-hour ordeal in one of Shropshire's worst-ever blizzards would become one of the county's most enduring legends — and he would live to write it down himself.
As with many of the Shropshire myths and legends, I first came across the story of Reverend Carr as a child, in Wings Over Witchend, the ninth book in Malcolm Saville's Lone Pine series. Saville's descriptions of the wildness of the Mynd in the snow were brought home to me the other week when, with no snow settled on the ground in the lowland areas, we were forced to turn back on the road between the Long Mynd and the Devil's Chair with snow so deep that it had become impassable.
The Mission (January 29, 1865)
The Reverend Edmund Donald Carr was the Rector of Woolstaston (spelled "Wolstaston" in Carr's day), a small parish on the eastern slopes of the Long Mynd. In 1856, he had also assumed responsibility for the parish of Ratlinghope on the west side of the Mynd.
The official route for a horse and cart involved a twelve-mile journey around the north-west side of the hill, and he developed a habit of walking his own direct four-mile route over the top, enabling him to deliver a morning and evening Sunday service in his own parish with an afternoon service in Ratlinghope. By the time of his great ordeal, he had made the crossing some 2,500 times.
The week before the 29th of January brought unprecedented snowfall, closing many of the county's more remote lanes. On that Sunday, however, despite one of the worst winter storms in Shropshire's history, Reverend Carr determined to carry on as usual.
After the morning service in Woolstaston, he had only time for a few mouthfuls of soup before setting off for Ratlinghope. The only comfort he carried was a flask containing three ounces of brandy, which he had never done before.
Carr set out on horseback with a servant; however, the snow was so deep — apparently reaching the horse's neck in the lanes — that it was impossible for the animal to continue and he sent horse and servant back, continuing alone on foot.
Even by this time, some drifts were more than a foot deep and, at times, he crawled on his hands and knees. Up on the plateau of the Mynd, the going was easier and for a time it was dry and bright, allowing him to follow his usual route. The descent to Ratlinghope was treacherous, but he arrived in the village at a quarter past three, ready to deliver his sermon.
The Ordeal on the Long Mynd
By the time Carr had finished, a gale had blown up and visibility was near zero. His faith, it seems, overcame whatever misgivings he must have felt, because he began his return journey to Woolstaston at four o'clock — with barely an hour of daylight remaining.
Lost in the Storm
Blinded by driving snow and sleet, Carr lost his way. Coming across the skeleton of a pony he had noticed that morning, he was reassured that he was on the right track and stopped for a nip of brandy.
His next landmark was a frozen pool, possibly that near the site of the old Pole Cottage. He never reached the fir trees that marked the following point on his route, however. As conditions worsened, he fell into a series of ravines, at one point plummeting headfirst down a steep slope. He saved himself by using his boots like ice axes, digging the toes into the snow to slow his descent.
Stripped by the Mynd
As the night progressed, Carr lost his hat, his gloves, and eventually both his boots. According to his own account, he had no choice but to continue in his stockings through drifts that were twenty feet deep in places.
His brandy finished, he ate snow to keep himself going, his hair and beard becoming solid lumps of ice. He even broke chunks of ice from his eyebrows and behind his knees.
Blind at Dawn
Somehow Carr kept moving throughout the night. By dawn the following day, he had developed snow blindness — blurred vision and difficulty perceiving colours — which made it even harder to find his way.
At last, he heard running water and followed the sound, knowing it would lead him to a valley and a possible route off the hill. It was then that he tumbled over the upper drop of the Light Spout waterfall. Knowing that if he fell over the lower part he would surely die, he began to climb again.
The Rescue and Aftermath
After twenty-two hours in the elements, with temperatures below zero, Carr heard children's voices but, though he called out to them, they faded away.
When he finally emerged near Carding Mill Valley, he was encrusted in ice and snow. Later, he learned the children had fled, thinking he was a bogey — a ghost or demon. Their parents, though, came to his rescue. Someone recognised him as the rector of Woolstaston and he was taken into a cottage for tea and dry clothes. From there, he went to the Crown Hotel in Church Stretton, arriving at around two pm.
Dead Man Walking
While Carr was struggling to survive, his Woolstaston parishioners had sent out a search party — twenty strong, armed with spades and shovels — before giving up at nightfall and deciding to reconvene the next day.
In the morning, they found the body of another man who had perished in the storm and became convinced that their rector must also be dead. Just as they were sending out formal letters announcing his demise, Carr finally arrived back in Woolstaston, twenty-seven hours after he had left.
A Night in the Snow
Carr had originally told the story as a lecture for the Society for the Promotion of Religious and Useful Knowledge at Bridgnorth, and was repeatedly asked to write it down. The result was his first-hand account, A Night in the Snow; or, A Struggle for Life, published in 1865.
The book sold well and the proceeds were used to pay for new altar rails and a pulpit in his church at Woolstaston. It remains in print today and is available on Amazon, or the full text can be read for free on Project Gutenberg.
Carr served as Rector of Woolstaston for some thirty-five years in total, dying around 1900. His grave lies outside the west window of St Michael & All Angels, Woolstaston — a church mentioned in the Domesday Book, with a Norman font whose lower bowl may have come from Roman Wroxeter.
A Modern Celebration
In 2015, on the 150th anniversary, the National Trust organised a commemorative walk following Carr's route from Ratlinghope to the Carding Mill Valley, with guides dressed in Victorian attire to recount the story. That year there was plenty of snow, making it a fitting tribute. The following year, at the same event, it was mild and sunny, making it hard to truly imagine the Reverend Carr's plight.
Carr's boots — lost that night on the Long Mynd and later rediscovered — have been on display at the National Trust's visitor centre in Carding Mill Valley, a tangible relic of one of Shropshire's most extraordinary survival stories.
The Truth and Nothing but the Truth?
Owing to the primary source of this story being Reverend Carr's own book, A Night in the Snow (1865), the core facts of the narrative are remarkably consistent across almost all accounts. However, there are a few interesting alternative details, local legends, and historical footnotes that add layers to the story.
1. A Toned-Down Truth
One of the most fascinating alternative versions comes from Carr himself in later years. In subsequent editions of his book and in private notes, Carr admitted that he deliberately downplayed the severity of some of his experiences in the first edition, concerned that if he described the conditions exactly as they were, the public would find the story completely unbelievable and accuse him of Victorian melodrama.
Later notes suggest the falls he took were even more frequent and the snowdrifts even deeper than his first modest account let on.
2. The Dead Horse Confusion
You may occasionally find a version of the story — sometimes cited in older snippets or local retellings — that claims Carr survived by sleeping inside or beside his dead horse. This is a classic case of folklore drift: a confusion of the sighting of the pony skeleton with an account of him setting out with his horse, ignoring that he had sent the horse back with his servant.
This myth is persistent enough that it appears even in some modern book summaries and library listings, despite being flatly contradicted by Carr's own text.
3. The Bogey vs. The Angel
In some accounts, there is a slight discrepancy in how the children of Carding Mill Valley perceived Carr when he stumbled out of the snow.
In the usual version, the children see a terrifying, ice-encrusted figure with no boots and wild eyes, and they run away screaming about a bogey or a ghost. In some church-centric retellings, however, the story emphasises the miracle aspect, suggesting the children were actually angels sent to lead him to safety, and plays down their initial terror to make the ending feel more divinely orchestrated.
4. The Second Man (The Tragic Parallel)
While Carr's story is a triumph, the accounts of the other man found dead in the snow that same morning vary. Some accounts say he was a local farmer, while others identify him as a traveller.
The significance of this parallel story is that it serves as a grim reality check for Carr's narrative. While Carr was being celebrated as the man who came back from the dead, another family in the same valley was mourning an actual death — a detail which tempered the local miracle with a dose of tragedy.
Visit the Story
The landscape of Carr's ordeal is still very much there to be explored, and several sites connected to the story can be visited today.
- St Michael & All Angels, Woolstaston — Carr's church and his grave (outside the west window). The church is locked but a key is readily available from Rectory Farm just above.
- Carding Mill Valley, National Trust — Where Carr finally emerged from the snow. The visitor centre has displayed Carr's rediscovered boots.
- Ratlinghope Church — The tiny church where Carr delivered his afternoon sermon before setting out into the storm.
- The Long Mynd — Carr's route across the top can be walked in fine weather, but the Mynd remains an exposed and serious hill in winter. If the Reverend's story teaches us anything, it is to respect this landscape when the weather turns.