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Walking the Cotswold
Way 17-24 September 2016, Chipping Campden to the doors of Bath Abbey |
On the spur of the moment I decided to walk the Cotswold Way.
My guide book said 102 miles, my fitbit said 125. It was probably somewhere in between . Most of the walkers I met agreed the guides underestimated the distances. They probably forgot the ups and downs of which there are many! As the guide book describes them, 'sharp climbs and awkward descents'. Oh, for my lovely flat canals!!
This was way out of my comfort zone and if it hadn't been for my trusty walking pole that Katy Bagnall lent me I'd have been seriously stuck. Trying to negotiate steep, wet, muddy stony paths without it would have been extremely tricky. Anyway, it rather became my friend, tap tapping along beside me.
I made it in eight days averaging 15 miles a day. I wanted it to be a 'social walk' with shorter mileage per day to encourage friends to walk with me. In the end I walked only two full days on my own. So a big thank you to my walking companions - PK, Blandine and Hal Charteris, Julia Honey, Julia Beldam, Katy Bagnall and Caroline Macpherson.
To look out over the Severn Vale to the Welsh hills beyond while walking the Cotswold escarpment with huge vistas to north and south is to remember how blessed we are with a truly beautiful and benign country. I met a Canadian septuagenarian who said that she couldn't possibly walk at home, at least certainly not on her own, because of the cougars and bears! I saw nothing more harmful than a squirrel burying nuts in the beech woods! I did, though, sit and watch crows chasing kestrels at Haresfield Beacon while eating my marmalade sandwich.
The River Severn was a constant at my right shoulder - a silver band meandering its way to the Bristol Channel. It took until Day 6 for the Welsh Mountains to reveal themselves fully but when they did it was an impressive sight.
I walked for hours, in fact days, through ancient beechwoods - Witcombe, Buckholt, Standish and Stanley to name but a few - apparently some of the best in Europe - with the occasional spooky moment when the owls hooted. When you're quite on your own and the light is fading, that is a scary sound!
I walked across ancient grassy uplands where the Gloucesters and belted Galloways grazed to keep the grass down and the wild flowers growing. Sadly, I never saw any rare breed Cotswold sheep with their long hair or 'golden fleece' as it is called. Maybe I would have at the sheep racing at Uley Long Barrow!
Selsley Common at 670' high, south of Stroud, is where the poet, W.H.Davies, apparently, wrote, 'What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?' Having puffed up the hill, I had a lot of time to stand and stare! Actually, sit on a rather handy bench to catch my breath and look back at Selsley village over the valley to Stroud!
Painswick Beacon, also known as Kimsbury Hill Fort, gives a magnificent 360 degree view. I looked back to the Cleeve Hill masts which I had never seen in the mist on Day 3 and out to Gloucester Cathedral, lit up by the sun, 8 km away. Rather bizarrely, there's been a golf course in amongst the fortifications since 1891. I met a golfer on a tee and asked, 'Where's the fairway?', none being apparent. He said, 'Over there', pointing to a huge embankment. Sure enough when I climbed to the top, I could see his ball nestled on a green inside the fort's ramparts!
I saw wonderful old farm yards, all higgledy piggledy, with ancient machinery and tumbly-down buildings with doors hanging off their hinges, happy hens pecking around and cosy farmhouses hunkering down in hidden valleys. How it reminded me of home!* None of that swish stuff you get in Essex. I came to the conclusion that the difference is animals - they always make a mess!
*I was born and grew up on a farm, just under the Cotswold escarpment in the Vale of Evesham.
I walked through herds of fat comfortable glossy cows munching on lush long grass, paying no attention to me. Luckily, I hadn't yet read Bill Bryson's Road to Little Dribbling where he writes of cows regularly attacking walkers!
It's hard to miss the muck spreading - that good old fashioned practice which I remember my Dad doing on our ancient red muck spreader. I had my 'farmyard moment' when I spotted a cow lying down and lifting its tail to pee, I thought, until I noticed a hoof sticking out. I waited and watched, expecting a lovely little new-born to slip out. Nothing happened. The cow got up, turned round and lay down again, hoof still sticking out. I'm a bit out of practice with my cow husbandry so I thought I'd better tell someone. The farmer who was dashing about on a huge machine cutting maize, didn't seem at all phased. 'Ooh, she be calving,' he said in a soft Gloucestershire burr. Yes, I thought, well that's pretty obvious. I walked on up Cam Long Down, the last lung-aching climb before reaching Dursley, my bed for the night and a large plate of penne, and looked down on my cow but never saw the calf.
My guide book said 102 miles, my fitbit said 125. It was probably somewhere in between . Most of the walkers I met agreed the guides underestimated the distances. They probably forgot the ups and downs of which there are many! As the guide book describes them, 'sharp climbs and awkward descents'. Oh, for my lovely flat canals!!
This was way out of my comfort zone and if it hadn't been for my trusty walking pole that Katy Bagnall lent me I'd have been seriously stuck. Trying to negotiate steep, wet, muddy stony paths without it would have been extremely tricky. Anyway, it rather became my friend, tap tapping along beside me.
I made it in eight days averaging 15 miles a day. I wanted it to be a 'social walk' with shorter mileage per day to encourage friends to walk with me. In the end I walked only two full days on my own. So a big thank you to my walking companions - PK, Blandine and Hal Charteris, Julia Honey, Julia Beldam, Katy Bagnall and Caroline Macpherson.
To look out over the Severn Vale to the Welsh hills beyond while walking the Cotswold escarpment with huge vistas to north and south is to remember how blessed we are with a truly beautiful and benign country. I met a Canadian septuagenarian who said that she couldn't possibly walk at home, at least certainly not on her own, because of the cougars and bears! I saw nothing more harmful than a squirrel burying nuts in the beech woods! I did, though, sit and watch crows chasing kestrels at Haresfield Beacon while eating my marmalade sandwich.
The River Severn was a constant at my right shoulder - a silver band meandering its way to the Bristol Channel. It took until Day 6 for the Welsh Mountains to reveal themselves fully but when they did it was an impressive sight.
I walked for hours, in fact days, through ancient beechwoods - Witcombe, Buckholt, Standish and Stanley to name but a few - apparently some of the best in Europe - with the occasional spooky moment when the owls hooted. When you're quite on your own and the light is fading, that is a scary sound!
I walked across ancient grassy uplands where the Gloucesters and belted Galloways grazed to keep the grass down and the wild flowers growing. Sadly, I never saw any rare breed Cotswold sheep with their long hair or 'golden fleece' as it is called. Maybe I would have at the sheep racing at Uley Long Barrow!
Selsley Common at 670' high, south of Stroud, is where the poet, W.H.Davies, apparently, wrote, 'What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?' Having puffed up the hill, I had a lot of time to stand and stare! Actually, sit on a rather handy bench to catch my breath and look back at Selsley village over the valley to Stroud!
Painswick Beacon, also known as Kimsbury Hill Fort, gives a magnificent 360 degree view. I looked back to the Cleeve Hill masts which I had never seen in the mist on Day 3 and out to Gloucester Cathedral, lit up by the sun, 8 km away. Rather bizarrely, there's been a golf course in amongst the fortifications since 1891. I met a golfer on a tee and asked, 'Where's the fairway?', none being apparent. He said, 'Over there', pointing to a huge embankment. Sure enough when I climbed to the top, I could see his ball nestled on a green inside the fort's ramparts!
I saw wonderful old farm yards, all higgledy piggledy, with ancient machinery and tumbly-down buildings with doors hanging off their hinges, happy hens pecking around and cosy farmhouses hunkering down in hidden valleys. How it reminded me of home!* None of that swish stuff you get in Essex. I came to the conclusion that the difference is animals - they always make a mess!
*I was born and grew up on a farm, just under the Cotswold escarpment in the Vale of Evesham.
I walked through herds of fat comfortable glossy cows munching on lush long grass, paying no attention to me. Luckily, I hadn't yet read Bill Bryson's Road to Little Dribbling where he writes of cows regularly attacking walkers!
It's hard to miss the muck spreading - that good old fashioned practice which I remember my Dad doing on our ancient red muck spreader. I had my 'farmyard moment' when I spotted a cow lying down and lifting its tail to pee, I thought, until I noticed a hoof sticking out. I waited and watched, expecting a lovely little new-born to slip out. Nothing happened. The cow got up, turned round and lay down again, hoof still sticking out. I'm a bit out of practice with my cow husbandry so I thought I'd better tell someone. The farmer who was dashing about on a huge machine cutting maize, didn't seem at all phased. 'Ooh, she be calving,' he said in a soft Gloucestershire burr. Yes, I thought, well that's pretty obvious. I walked on up Cam Long Down, the last lung-aching climb before reaching Dursley, my bed for the night and a large plate of penne, and looked down on my cow but never saw the calf.
Belted Galloways for low density grazing on the commons to encourage bio-diversity! The photo is bleary as this was the day of mist and rain! 
Day 1 Chipping Campden to Stanton
'Social Climbing Day ' - There were five of us and a lot of climbing! Hal and Blandine Charteris, Julia Honey, myself, with PK taking the photo at Broadway Tower. |
Day 2 Stanton to Cleeve Hill - a day of spectacular views
Overlooking the Vale of Evesham and Bredon Hill, with Malvern Hills beyond, above Stanway and Wood Stanway, heading for Hailes Abbey
Day 3 Cleeve Hill to Birdlip - The Day It Rained, a soft barely noticeable rain but continuous. I just remember the constant sound of dripping leaves. Visibility was down to 100 yards, if that, and I walked in a blanket of mist. I never saw the drama of ancient Cleeve Hill, the highest point of the Cotswold Way at 1,083 ', or appreciated the environmental diversity of Cleeve Common or looked down on Cheltenham race course, a haunt of my Dad and I, or the Devil's Chimney at Leckhampton. Thank God Katy Bagnall was with me who knew the terrain, as on my own I would surely have got lost. All I knew was that drying clothes on a tiny towel heater in my hotel bathroom that night was a challenge.
No points of interest to be seen at all!
No points of interest to be seen at all!
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Day 4 Birdlip to Painswick - Beech Woods Day
I walked in total two and a half days through woods and it was enchanting. This day, I stood at the top of Cooper's Hill, the ludicrously steep cheese rolling hill*, and was glad I hadn't been born a local lad! I ended the day sitting on a bench above the maze at Painswick Rococo Garden musing on decadent garden parties of the 1740s.
*sadly, no longer an event due to spectator over-kill
I walked in total two and a half days through woods and it was enchanting. This day, I stood at the top of Cooper's Hill, the ludicrously steep cheese rolling hill*, and was glad I hadn't been born a local lad! I ended the day sitting on a bench above the maze at Painswick Rococo Garden musing on decadent garden parties of the 1740s.
*sadly, no longer an event due to spectator over-kill
Day 5 Painswick to Dursley - Bramble Day
This could have been archaeology and industry day - the forts, the roman villa, the mills of Stroud* - but actually I so enjoyed eating brambles all day Bramble Day won. It was also the day the Cotswold Gremlin finally did his worst. He'd been following me since Day 1 and had already pinched my grease stick for my toes, my penknife and my face cream and today he took my mobile charger. The beast, how could he?
*at its height there were 150 textile mills in the Cotswold region
Today I passed the halfway mark on the longest day - 22 miles, 11 hours, 50,000 steps!
This could have been archaeology and industry day - the forts, the roman villa, the mills of Stroud* - but actually I so enjoyed eating brambles all day Bramble Day won. It was also the day the Cotswold Gremlin finally did his worst. He'd been following me since Day 1 and had already pinched my grease stick for my toes, my penknife and my face cream and today he took my mobile charger. The beast, how could he?
*at its height there were 150 textile mills in the Cotswold region
Today I passed the halfway mark on the longest day - 22 miles, 11 hours, 50,000 steps!
Day 6 Dursley to Hawkesbury - Green Lane Day
I walked many green lanes, enchanting ancient pathways that reminded me of Cynthia Harnett's The Wool-Pack. What a brilliant children's novel that was - so evocative of the country I was walking through where it was set. My sister and I even entered the local gymkhana fancy dress class dressed up in hessian, tights and turned-up shoes with our pony laden with a huge wool sack!
I walked many green lanes, enchanting ancient pathways that reminded me of Cynthia Harnett's The Wool-Pack. What a brilliant children's novel that was - so evocative of the country I was walking through where it was set. My sister and I even entered the local gymkhana fancy dress class dressed up in hessian, tights and turned-up shoes with our pony laden with a huge wool sack!
Day 7 Hawkesbury to Cold Ashton - Dyrham Day
I had passed so many beautiful historic houses of various shapes, sizes and ages, all clothed in that dreamy butter-coloured stone smiling in the sun. But the one that beats all is Dyrham Park, William Blathwayt's Baroque marvel, with William Talman's fabulous east facade of 1704 and one of the best surviving Baroque interiors in the country. Today my ambition was fulfilled.
And what a way to arrive, puffing and panting off the hill, down a dank dark path and bursting forth on this idyllic scene. Nanny Trust is in charge but you wouldn't know it. I crept round without anyone noticing me. I didn't even see a ticket booth. I had a delicious salad and sausage roll tucked away in a pretty courtyard garden and finished off in the Conservatory with a cup of hot chocolate made to an original recipe with cinnamon and peppers. Delicious!
The west front of Dyrham Park with St Peter's Church
I had passed so many beautiful historic houses of various shapes, sizes and ages, all clothed in that dreamy butter-coloured stone smiling in the sun. But the one that beats all is Dyrham Park, William Blathwayt's Baroque marvel, with William Talman's fabulous east facade of 1704 and one of the best surviving Baroque interiors in the country. Today my ambition was fulfilled.
And what a way to arrive, puffing and panting off the hill, down a dank dark path and bursting forth on this idyllic scene. Nanny Trust is in charge but you wouldn't know it. I crept round without anyone noticing me. I didn't even see a ticket booth. I had a delicious salad and sausage roll tucked away in a pretty courtyard garden and finished off in the Conservatory with a cup of hot chocolate made to an original recipe with cinnamon and peppers. Delicious!
The west front of Dyrham Park with St Peter's Church
Day 8 The day we walked into Bath
PK joined me for the last day. We looked down on to Weston with Bath beyond and thought of all the delicious things we would like to eat for lunch!!
PK joined me for the last day. We looked down on to Weston with Bath beyond and thought of all the delicious things we would like to eat for lunch!!
Looking to the north along the escarpment, with Tyndale's Tower somewhere on the horizon 3 days away!
Bristol sprawled to the west of us, the Mendip Hills beckoned to the south, Beckford's Tower stood high on the hill to the east and behind me I said'goodbye' to my escarpment, looking right back to Tyndale's Monument three days away to the north. There is something very romantic about walking through Weston, across the High Common with its pitch and putt course, through Victoria Park where the Moscow State Circus was to perform to streams of excited children dancing their way to the big Top, across the Royal Crescent, sadly covered in too much scaffolding, and on to the doors of Bath Abbey and a Pizza Express special!
The Cotswold Way became a National Trail in 2007 but had been recognised as a walk since 1970. It is well way-marked with the Acorn sign, except in towns. For some reason signs disappear in towns or are so discreet and well-mannered as in Bath, that you don't notice them. It is very easy to take the wrong path. My guide had such a big fat red line over the route it made it difficult to read the detail underneath. Anyway, often you are so befuddled and tired a wrong turning is too easy.
Unlike the canals, there is always that added stress - Am I going the right way?' I lost at least an hour in Stroud failing to find signs on my longest day of ups and downs to Dursley. I turned up thankfully at a pub for some much needed sustenance and loo stop to find it shut for refurb and due to open the next day. How catastrophic was that ! I had to trail down the hill I'd just come up to find a Sainsbury's and then trail back up the same hill to continue!
Unlike the canals, there is always that added stress - Am I going the right way?' I lost at least an hour in Stroud failing to find signs on my longest day of ups and downs to Dursley. I turned up thankfully at a pub for some much needed sustenance and loo stop to find it shut for refurb and due to open the next day. How catastrophic was that ! I had to trail down the hill I'd just come up to find a Sainsbury's and then trail back up the same hill to continue!
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I spent forty minutes at Selsey Church, recovering in the graveyard and enjoying Bodley's church with stain glass windows by Williams Morris, Burne-Jones, Rossetti, Webb and Ford Maddox Brown. What a feast! I love this butch Lion.
There's something about the buildings in the Cotswolds. They sink into the landscape and 'belong', dressed in their beautiful warm stone. They hug the hills and peep into view surrounded by ancient trees - oaks, ash, beech and hawthorn, aglow with red berries. It just makes you long to sit down and write a romantic novel!
But beyond the houses are the ancient human habitations. It was like walking down a timeline. I explored neolithic long barrows, sat on iron age and roman forts, wandered deserted floors of a roman villa, with swallows swooping above me, roamed medieval abbey ruins, rested at churches sprung from the great wool industry of the area, wandered through charming towns and villages of ancient origins, walked through working quarries and admired monuments put up by admiring fans to famous people of the past.
I even crossed a civil war battlefield of 1643 on Lansdown hill and clocked the earliest surviving war memorial, dedicated to
Sir Bevill Grenville, the royalist Commander.
Bath was the crowning glory for Georgian architecture and Stroud for the Industrial Age. Apparently, Edwin Budding of Stroud adapted the rotating blades used in mechanised sheep shearing and invented the lawnmower!
I couldn't find anything worthy of mention for the 20th century which was rather alarming. I suppose the Severn Bridge thirty miles away counted. It looked impressive even at this distance. I did pass close to a huge solitary 21st century wind turbine which might be counted as a thing of beauty. Berkeley nuclear power station, now decommissioned, and the M4 and M5, however useful, cannot be counted as things of beauty. And as for a couple of hideous stand-alone new houses with a spit of Cotswold stone, acres of glass and aggressive rooflines ....................... well, no comment except to say, 'How do they get away with it?'
I felt the steps of a thousand walkers as I made my way south. The views were to die for and I was constantly aware of the distances I had travelled, looking back along the escarpment. The terrain was a challenge but the countryside was beautifully distracting. The other walkers were friendly and good for a jar or two in the evening before dinner.
I marvel again at the unspoilt beauty and variety of our countryside and how lucky we are to step out and walk in safety, in relatively benign weather, amongst flora and fauna heart-breakingly beautiful and amongst friendly and welcoming country folk. Roll on the next walk!
I even crossed a civil war battlefield of 1643 on Lansdown hill and clocked the earliest surviving war memorial, dedicated to
Sir Bevill Grenville, the royalist Commander.
Bath was the crowning glory for Georgian architecture and Stroud for the Industrial Age. Apparently, Edwin Budding of Stroud adapted the rotating blades used in mechanised sheep shearing and invented the lawnmower!
I couldn't find anything worthy of mention for the 20th century which was rather alarming. I suppose the Severn Bridge thirty miles away counted. It looked impressive even at this distance. I did pass close to a huge solitary 21st century wind turbine which might be counted as a thing of beauty. Berkeley nuclear power station, now decommissioned, and the M4 and M5, however useful, cannot be counted as things of beauty. And as for a couple of hideous stand-alone new houses with a spit of Cotswold stone, acres of glass and aggressive rooflines ....................... well, no comment except to say, 'How do they get away with it?'
I felt the steps of a thousand walkers as I made my way south. The views were to die for and I was constantly aware of the distances I had travelled, looking back along the escarpment. The terrain was a challenge but the countryside was beautifully distracting. The other walkers were friendly and good for a jar or two in the evening before dinner.
I marvel again at the unspoilt beauty and variety of our countryside and how lucky we are to step out and walk in safety, in relatively benign weather, amongst flora and fauna heart-breakingly beautiful and amongst friendly and welcoming country folk. Roll on the next walk!
At Coaley Peak, Nympsfield Long Barrow - uncovered
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Hailes Abbey in the sunshine - one of the great Cistercian Abbeys of the 13th century
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Great Witcombe Roman Villa, an agricultural estate serving the Roman town of Gloucester
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Painswick Beacon looking out to the west and Gloucester in the Vale of Severn; Aerial photo of the hill fort with golf course - I am standing bottom LH corner of fortifications to take the photo on the left. The tee is bottom right amongst the trees and the green is the first patch of green over the embankments!
Tyndale's Monument, opened in 1866. Luckily I didn't have a £1 so didn't feel obliged to climb 122 steps for the view!
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Monument to Sir Bevill Grenville at Lansdown Hill, the
site of a Civil War battle in 1643. |