Walking the Cotswolds, Days Seven and Eight

There was no wifi yesterday and I was too tired after our longest walk to do much more than walk to the pub for dinner at the famous Beaufort Arms. We were told, “People drive there all the way from Bristol!” I can believe it.

It was hot and very humid for most of the day yesterday and then for some reason the humidity eased late in the afternoon. We ate a picnic lunch on a bench across the road from a church where a soldier and his gal were getting married. It seemed as if every young person in the village was there in their finest clothes. We shared a bottle of strong ale which didn’t make it any easier to climb the afternoon’s hills.

The hills are, as my friend Geoff suggested, getting easier as we get fitter, but also, let’s not forget that the Cotswolds get flatter as we get closer to Bath. Still, it’s an accomplishment to reach the top of the biggest ones even if I’m sweaty and gasping. The big breakfasts and pub lunches don’t help. Clearly I’m going to have to spend the winter on the stairmaster before next summer’s walk, whatever that’s going to be.

Despite the talk of bulls, angry cows, wild boars, adders, etc., the biggest hazards we’ve encountered have been stinging nettles, which are everywhere, and low doorways and low-hanging branches. A phrenologist would have me committed because of all the lumps on my head.

Oh, and English drivers. We crossed the A46 several times today and each crossing was terrifying. Outside the village of Pennsylvania, where drivers are supposed to slow to 40 miles per hour, they were travelling closer to 75. I would hate to live there, with cars going that speed past my front door. This country could do with a little photo radar. There are CCTV cameras everywhere already, so why not use a few to make the roads safer?

We also crossed the M4 today, and the endless stream of vehicles speeding towards Bristol and then Wales made me think about the difference between travelling that way and walking. Driving down an expressway is faster but it’s also a kind of suspended animation, while when we walk we’re very much alive to the sounds and sights and smells of the world around us. I thought about this walking along the edge of a field of harvested sunflowers. The grass at the edge of the field had been cut, too, and it smelled like fresh hay. The wind was singing in my ears and in the next field, a pasture, sheep were bleating. It was wonderful. From here, we could be in Bath in 15 minutes but it’s the experience of walking that’s the point, the journey and not the destination. Or something.

This morning it rained on and off, and then late this afternoon the skies opened up and the rain simply poured down. Once again my boots filled with water because I forgot my gaiters back home. This never happened in Spain and I didn’t have gaiters there either. What a conundrum. I was able to ponder it as we splashed towards Cold Ashton.

Our B&B is the first we’ve encountered that’s set up for walkers, with space to dry wet clothes and a machine for drying sodden boots. The owners walked the Cotswold Way before they opened up last year and it shows. We’re in the middle of nowhere so dinner is provided, but we do the cooking ourselves. Interesting concept. It’s all very nice and there’s beer, too, which is exactly what tired and thirsty walkers need. After all, we walked about as far as we did yesterday and deserve a reward after our exertions.

Tomorrow we will be in Bath and our walk will end. I wish we could keep going–I’m just getting into it.