Month: July 2019

It seemed fairly straightforward. Take the bus to Moreton-in-Marsh, have lunch, then walk to Stow-on-the-Wold to catch the return bus to Cheltenham. Ten kilometres, and I had a GPS map. I popped in to the information centre just to make sure, then set off.

I’ll admit, it was a bit warmer than I expected. And it wasn’t long before I realized that there would be precious little shade. Unlike Canada, “the woods” in England consist of about a dozen trees dividing open fields that stretch out endlessly. In Canada, we call that a hedge…

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Things went fairly well until I reached the outskirts of the small village of Longborough where I took the first of many wrong turns. It turns out my GPS map worked well as long as I stayed on the trail. If I strayed, it was maddeningly silent, the blue dot blinking stubbornly but otherwise giving me no indication of my actual location.

This is where I had the (literal) brush with stinging nettle. And some nasty deer flies. Fifteen minutes later, my legs were in full blown pins-and-needles mode, and I was starting to think this may have been a mistake.

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I soldiered on, and soon heard that ominous sound…cows… Thankfully, there was a fence and some distance between us, so I hurried along and finally came out onto a paved road in lovely Longborough. I thought I was back on track until I emerged in front of a major construction project which obliterated the route in the GPS map.

After a bit of wandering, I found a small convenience store/cafe and some wonderful locals who provided solid directions. After a brief rest and much-needed liquid refreshment, I was off again. Only to return, about 45 minutes later, totally defeated by the multitude of paths and total lack of signage. I was done. Where was the taxi?

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Not my day. The only taxi driver in the village had turned off his phone. Just as it looked as though I’d have to brave the trail again, the woman behind the counter said she could drop me off. And two women who stopped for tea also offered… In the end, I was transported the rest of the way by the lone woman whose accent was so strong I just smiled and nodded and hoped she had no idea that I couldn’t understand a single word she was saying.

Fifteen kilometres and three hours later, I reached Stow-on-the-Wold. My legs were still numb and tingling and remained that way until the next day when the Benadryl finally worked its magic. 

I’m feeling fine again, and looking forward to my next walk….Bourton-on-the-Water to The Slaughters. Seems straightforward…

Andy dropped me off at the top of the High Street at about 8:30 am. A friend of my host Lisa’s, Andy is a stone mason and is rebuilding a stone wall for the National Trust in the traditional way…no mortar or concrete. He’ll be working in the area all month and has graciously offered to drop me off anywhere between Cheltenham and Chipping Camden. Today I’ve chosen Broadway.

It was quiet as I made my way toward the start of the walk up to Broadway Tower. This was my first cross-country attempt in the Cotswolds, and I was feeling a little apprehensive given that Google isn’t much help off-road (or otherwise, but that’s another story). It wasn’t long before I hit my first obstacle….a large field with no way markers and filled with sheep. Normally, farm animals don’t bother me. But ever since those cow attacks in India and the head-butting goat incident in Kathmandu, I find myself a little less enthusiastic about herds.

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Luckily, Ann and Paul happened along and agreed to let me tag along. This couple was quite obviously out for a workout, and they all but sprinted up what turned out to be a fairly steep hill. I managed to keep up, but just barely, and I was soaking wet and panting by the time we reached the top. It was well worth the effort though, with the rolling hills stretched out for miles and tiny villages nestled in the hollows. We said our goodbyes, and they headed back down, while I did a bit of exploring around the tower. They were right about the sheep by the way…the scariest thing about them is the amount of poop they leave in their wake.

Broadway…charming. Full of that golden Cotswold stone…every home as neat as a pin and looking like a postcard. It was also filled with walkers, people doing day walks as well as others who appear to be tackling longer distances along the Cotswold Way.

The bus ride back to Cheltenham was as entertaining as the walk! The bus drivers must all be retired stunt car drivers to manoeuvre the vehicles on those winding country roads where we met huge trucks, skittish horses and everything in between. And around every corner, another whimsical English village to be explored.

Careening along winding country roads with a Maggie Smith clone at the wheel. It isn’t what I envisioned when I booked a month in the Cotswolds…it’s far, far better!

I arrived in Cheltenham, England a few days ago and am settling in. My accommodation is perfect; a self-contained studio apartment with private entrance and a lovely garden, complete with a dog. Poppy is about four years old and is a spaniel/poodle mix. We got off to a great start with a ball-throwing session, and I’m happy to say her human family is just as friendly. Lisa, my host, has been generous, picking me up at the bus station, inviting me to dinner and providing tons of suggestions for things to do and see while I’m here. 

The icing on the family cake is Lisa’s mother Margaret, driver of the aforementioned car. Funny, outspoken and gardener extraordinaire, she spends quite a bit of time here replacing broken clotheslines, planting and weeding and Poppy-sitting while Lisa is at work. When she offered to show me some of the smaller villages surrounding Cheltenham, I jumped at the chance.

Along the way, we spotted a man of about 60 looking a little lost so she stopped to ask if he needed help. He was going to Broadway, so Margaret promptly offered him a lift. He hopped into the back seat (next to her purse), and we had a lovely chat as she navigated the confusing maze of country roads. I think the guy hated to get out of the car. (And the purse was still there after he left.)

This morning I walked up to Cheltenham Racecourse and then on to Prestbury, purportedly the most haunted village in England. No ghosts around that I could see, and I walked through the graveyard!

I’m finding everyone a lot friendlier than expected. I had my hair cut a few days ago and by the time I left, it felt like my stylist James and I had known each other for years. On my walk today, I stopped to get a picture of a red phone booth in Prestbury. About ten minutes later, in another part of the village, a car pulled up and a man got out, asking if I was the one photographing the phone box. We had a grand old chat about phones and Pete Luckett and Halifax, and he offered me a lift back to Cheltenham where apparently there are a number of these iconic British symbols. (I didn’t take him up on it..he may have been a ghost…)