Back on Track September 28, 2017
Well, yesterday was not so perfect! In fact, by the time it ended, I was having second thoughts about our excursion. The day had begun well enough, with another rather misty morning and a slow gradual climb. A growing vista of the town of Broadway and surrounding sheep pastures emerged, looking like a Gainsborough painting. So far, so good.
Having consulted our guide book, we had decided to take a detour from the Cotswold Way to visit a nearby village with an estate, said to have "an almost perfect example of a Cotswold manor house". One of our reasons for planning to walk just 5-6 miles/day was to give us an opportunity to visit sights along the way, something that we had missed on our previous long walks.
The Snowshill Manor House is a quirky place, owned by the National Trust and therefore in good hands. It had been owned previously by Charles Paget Wade, a WW I veteran, whose family wealth had allowed him to collect stuff to his heart's content. And his heart's content was a LOT. In fact, he had bought the manor house not to live in, but to house his growing collection. He himself lived a frugal existence in pretty primitive conditions in a cottage behind the manor house. His main interest was to collect beautiful handmade items, like old bicycles, hand-carved items, huge thread winding forms, Chinese cabinets, and decorated wooden shields. The manor house, the oldest part of which dates back to the 1500's, is filled to the brim with artifacts. We began with lunch in the tearoom and then spent over an hour exploring the collection and the gardens. By 2 pm, we were back on our way on the trail.
Now comes the tricky part. On the way to the manor house, the trail had descended rather steeply down slippery, muddy tracks. My knee had suddenly begun complaining quite loudly, a new problem. I borrowed the walking stick that Bruce had picked up in the woods and limped along. After our detour, it seemed that it might be wise to take a shortcut back to the trail. Therein lay our downfall. We began wandering up and down hills and across fields, trying to find our new way. There are many, many public footpaths in England! Not all of them are labeled with names. Bruce and I differed on our ideas of the correct direction to take.
Meanwhile, the sky was getting darker, and we hadn't seen any other walkers for a long time. The wind was blowing fiercely, and it was a bit lonely up there on the open fields. Finally, Bruce pulled out his "device", never far away, and used his GPS to determine how to get to the next village - just about the time that it began raining. We stood under a tree, pulled on raincoats, and shortly afterward came upon a Cotswold Way sign, to our great relief.
We still had quite a long way to walk to get to that night's lodging, a farmhouse right on the trail. Luckily, my knee was feeling better - for no reason that I could determine. I was grateful, in any case. We passed through the lovely - but eerily quiet - small town of Stanton. To our dismay, no tea room or open pub. Needing a bit of sustenance, we sat on a bench in the rain and nibbled on cheese and apples, wishing it had been a beer by a cheery fire. We kept going and came to Stanway, passing the cricket pitch donated by J.M. Barrie and the sweet little church.
The day's last bit of excitement came when we noticed a sign, warning that the next part of our trail went through a field with a bull. We had read that more Brits are killed by stampeding cattle than by car crashes (can that really be true ??). In any case, we crept quietly through the field, emboldened by the awareness that our BnB lay just beyond it. It was 6 pm when we dragged in at Maggie and Mick's Wood Stanway Farmhouse B&B. Our fit bits registered 12 miles. We were completely done in! This 400 year old building lacked the elegance of our recent accommodations - but it had one essential ingredient: a big, deep tub! I soaked in the hottest water possible and then fell into bed for the best sleep in days.
Today turned out much better. It was a beautiful day, sunny and fresh and moist after the rain. We breakfasted with 2 couples from Wales, sibs and their spouses. We were fascinated to learn that the sibs had grown up speaking Welsh as their first language, which is related to Breton and Cornish. Apparently the Welsh government is trying to promote the continuance of the language with immersion schools as a choice. These four hardy souls planned to walk the whole 100-mile stretch of the Cotswold Way.
Bruce and I had an easy day planned. After walking for an hour or so, we stopped at a tiny, ancient, Saxon church and then spent 2 hours at nearby Hailes Abbey, listening to extremely well-done audio-guides, explaining the life of monks in this 13th century Cistercian house. There are only a few stone arches remaining from those days, due to Henry VIII's orders to destroy Catholic buildings in 1539.
The afternoon stroll to Winchcombe, our final destination for the day, took us through more sheep and cow pastures, hearing the whistle of a steam engine train and seeing its white cloud of steam billowing out behind, over wooden stiles and under massive spreading oak trees - but thankfully no steep climbs, either up or down.
We arrived in Winchcombe in time for a lovely, late lunch in the back patio of the Red Lion Inn. We have learned - the hard way - that it's best not to eat a big meal before sleeping. We're trying to be restrained and won't eat again today. Well, maybe a ginger nut or two :). We'll be in Winchcombe for two nights, giving ourselves a break from walking, looking around this more vibrant Cotswold town, staying in another lovely Airbnb. Our knees and toes are feeling better. We're back on track!
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