Andoversford to Perrott's Brook: The South West Odyssey Day 10

The South West Odyssey was a long distance walk.
Five like-minded people started in 2008 from the Cardingmill Valley in Shropshire and by walking three days a year finished at Start Bay on the South Devon Coast in May 2019.

Andoversford to Chedworth and on to the River Churn

Getting Ourselves Together

02-June-20011

Francis, Brian & Hilary and Lynne & I spent the night of the 2nd in a B & B in Charlton Kings. We joined Alison in Cheltenham for dinner at the Daffodil, once a cinema, now rather elegantly converted into a restaurant.

03-June-2011

Gloucestershire

Cotswold District

Next day, according to the theory, Mike would rise early and drive to the start at Andoversford, those of us in the B & B would have a hearty breakfast before fetching Alison and then proceeding to join Mike. Practice and theory ran side by side until Alison reached Charlton Kings. At that point, it was necessary to take her home again to fetch her boots. Mike had been waiting a while when we eventually reached Andoversford, but manfully retained his good humour. I will not mention that something very similar has happened before, and that Alison found a completely different way of delaying our start last year. To do so would be unkind and ungentlemanly.

Brian, Mike, Me, Francis & Alison
at Andoversford and ready to go

Andoversford to Withington Wood

In the now customary sunshine we left Andoversford and walked southwest down a well-maintained lane and past the site of a medieval village – at least that is what it said on the map, there was nothing to see on the ground. We crossed the long, straight Withington road, evidence that the Romans had passed this way, and entered the Thorndale estate.

Up the drive at Thorndale

The footpath sign appeared to be pointing into a field of sheep but Francis was adamant we should be walking up the drive. The field was surrounded by a well maintained fence and right beside us was a metal structure set into the fence resembling a humped cattle grid a metre high. I thought it might be a stile, but Francis is usually right so we followed him up the drive. A little later, a man and a sheep dog passed us going the other way on a quad bike. A cheery wave suggested we were on the right path. Looking back we realised the humped cattle grid was exactly that, impassable for livestock, tricky for humans, but simple for a quad bike.

Despite the sheep, the main business at Thorndale is horses. We passed a set of National Hunt fences, several cross-country obstacles and crossed an all-weather gallop. The whole place was well-maintained with an air of opulence; there is clearly money in training racehorses.

National Hunt fences, Thorndale

Thorndale looked a pleasant place to live and work. A kilometre on, Upcote Farm, sitting in the sun behind its garden and its pond, continued the Cotswold idyll.

Upcote Farm

Skirting the village of Withington we climbed across the site of a now invisible Roman villa and drank our coffee sitting in a field beneath Withington Woods.

Looking back towards Withington from the edge of Withington Woods

Withington and a 'Disused' Airfield

The wood offered the usual multitude of forest paths criss-crossing the public right of way and generating navigational uncertainty from which we eventually emerged into an area of open upland.

The countryside has a reputation for peace and quiet which is not always justified. To the west, two single-engined planes twirled across the sky in a noisy demonstration of aerobatics, while to the south a procession of huge military transport aircraft lumbered skywards from a far-distant air base.

Skirting an agro-chemical plant, we made our way towards a disused airfield above which two small planes were diving and rolling in a mock dogfight. The airfield was so disused that grass was reclaiming the runways, and we quickly realised we were now watching model planes operated by a group of enthusiasts gathered on the only smooth piece of tarmac remaining.

Chedworth

Planes apart, the couple of kilometres after the woods were not the finest walking, but the gentle descent into Chedworth took us back to the Cotswolds at their best.

Chedworth Church

We paused for refreshment in the Seven Tuns. The survivors of a ‘full English breakfast’ required only liquid refreshment but Alison felt the need for a BLT bap, which she ate in the most dainty and ladylike manner imaginable.

I would take great offence if anyone was to suggest this photograph is, in any way, revenge for the late start.
I would never do such a thing

While we were in the pub, Lynne and Hilary were a mile away visiting Chedworth Roman Villa, which unlike the villa at Withington is remarkably well preserved. The only drawback with walking as a means of transport is that anything a mile off your route is too far off for a detour.

Following the Macmillan Way and then the Monarch's Way to Conigree Wood

Our path out of Chedworth was part of the Macmillan Way, a 290-mile long footpath running from Boston in Lincolnshire to Abbotsbury in Dorset. It is named for and is linked to the Macmillan cancer support charity.

Leaving Chedworth on the Macmillan Way

Broad paths beside fields were easy to follow. Continuing the aeronautical theme, a bi-plane passed repeatedly above us, a ‘wing-walker’ standing strapped in position above the pilot. Well, that is one way to spend a sunny Friday afternoon.

The Macmillan Way eventually crossed the Monarchs Way which we followed southwest into Conigree Wood. This footpath follows the flight of the future King Charles II from his defeat at Worcester in September 1651 until he left for exile from Shoreham-on-sea six weeks later. At 615 miles the Monarch’s Way is England’s longest inland trail; it does not require a geography teacher to spot that he did not take a particularly direct route.

In Conigree Wood

Down to and Along the River Churn

At the end of the woods, a steep descent dropped us into the valley of the River Churn. This small tributary of the Thames should be a delightful little river, but its waters looked milky and not entirely healthy. It was hot and humid in the valley, and cattle stood cooling themselves in the river. We followed the stream for three kilometres, passing through North Cerney before reaching the end of the day’s walk at Perrott’s Brook House.

Cattle cool themselves in the River Churn

The Waggon and Horses, Cirencester

We stayed in a B & B in Cirencester and dined locally. The Wagon and Horses sounds like a traditional English Pub, and in part it is; the other part is a Thai restaurant. The management seemed genuinely Thai, the food less so, but it was still most enjoyable. I shall pass no comment on Francis’ skill with chopsticks.

The South West Odyssey (English Branch)
Introduction
Day 1 to 3 (2008) Cardingmill Valley to Great Whitley
Day 4 to 6 (2009) Great Whitely to Upton-on-Severn via the Malvern Ridge
Day 7 to 9 (2010) Upton-on-Severn to Andoversford
Day 10 (2011) Andoversford to Perrott's Brook
Day 11 (2011) Perrott's Brook to the Round Elm Crossroads
Day 12 (2011) Walking Round Stroud
Day 13 (2012) Stroud to North Nibley
Day 14 (2012) North Nibley to Old Sodbury
Day 15 (2012) Old Sodbury to Swineford
Day 16 (2013) Along the Chew Valley
Day 17 (2013) Over the Mendips to Wells
Day 18 (2013) Wells to Glastonbury 'The Mountain Route'
Day 19 (2014) Glastonbury to Langport
Day 20 (2014) Along the Parrett and over the Tone
Day 21 (2014) Into the Quantocks
Day 22 (2015) From the Quantocks to the Sea
Day 23 (2015) Watchet, Dunster and Dunkery Hill
Day 24 (2015) Dunkery Beacon to Withypool
Day 25 (2016) Entering Devon and Leaving Exmoor
Day 26 (2016) Knowstone to Black Dog on the Two Moors Way
Day 27 (2016) Morchard Bishop to Copplestone
Day 28 (2017) Down St Mary to Drewsteignton
Day 29 (2017) Drewsteignton to Bennett's Cross
Day 30 (2017) Bennett's Cross to Lustleigh
Day 31 (2018) Southwest Across the Moor from Lustleigh
Day 32 (2018) South to Ugborough
Day 33 (2018) Ugborough to Ringmore
Day 34 (2019) Around the Avon Estuary to Hope Cove
Day 35 (2019):  Hope Cove to Prawle Point
Day 36 (2019) Prawle Point to Start Bay: The End
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The Last Post

That's All Folks - The Odyssey is done.

The Stone Circle (3): Sandon Bank to Swynnerton

The Final Day of a 60Km Circular Walk around the Town of Stone

Leaving Sandon Bank

Staffordshire

Stafford Borough

Six weeks after the end of Part 2, the Seven Stars on Sandon Bank still looked as sad as only a derelict pub can look. Alison, Francis, Mike and I pulled on our boots in preparation for setting off west while Lee prepared to go south. Once we had pointed out which blue beer mug on the OS map he was standing outside, Lee agreed to join us walking west.

The Seven Stars, Sandon Bank, Looking as sad as only a derelict pub can

A stroll down the lane and a kilometre of easy field paths brought us to Marston where we rejoined the official Stone Circle route we had left above Hopton Heath. Walking on through the village, if three well separated houses, two farms and graveyard can be described as a village, we returned to the field paths.

The pattern of the day began to become clear. Francis, whose Duke of Edinburgh scheme commitments have had him out walking every week, and Lee who has been visiting the gym, strode off into the distance. Mike and Alison plodded along behind apparently discussing weighty issues, while I wandered along on my own, taking occasional photographs of those in front and those behind.

Francis and Lee stride off into the distance...

Silaging was in full swing and we watched a huge machine hoovering up the cut grass and depositing it in a trailer driven alongside. A large field was cleared in remarkably little time.

...while Mike and Alison discuss weighty matters

Across the A34 and down to Whitgreave

We heard the A34 long before we reached it. High-speed traffic is difficult to judge, but we reached the central reservation safely, climbed the stile over the crash barrier and made it to the far verge. I have driven that road hundreds of times and never seen anyone brave (or stupid) enough to cross it, or even realised there was a stile.

Approaching Whitgreave, squadrons of swallows swooped backwards and forwards above the lane. This seems a bumper year for swallows, though Francis says swifts have been much less successful. We passed a pond with an excellent duck house, though not, presumably, bought at public expense.

Not the home of the local MP, Whitgreave

Over the M6 and on to Shallowford and Isaac Walton's Cottage

A footbridge took us across the M6 and from there to Shallowford we crossed fields of cereals while skylarks fluttered and sang above us. Six weeks before it had been Blackthorn flowering in the hedgerows, now it was Hawthorn, with its white - and occasionally pink - flowers and distinctive scent.

Isaac Walton’s cottage soon came into view. I failed to photograph it (what an amateur!) but if you want to know what it looks like, click here. I crossed the little bridge at Shallowford every working day for sixteen years, but I had never before approached it over the fields; I was surprised how different a familiar place can feel when seen from an unfamiliar perspective.

Road Walking and Field Paths to Yarnfield and Lunch at the Labour in Vain

Three kilometres of road walking followed, though the roads were tiny and free of traffic. Here we were deviating from the official Stone Circle Route which follows the B-road to Norton Bridge before turning off alongside the railway.

Campion

The verges were thick with wildflowers: cow-parsley, speedwell, campion and many more. A chiffchaff sang, its brief performance followed and outshone by the liquid tones of a bird Francis confidently identified as a blackcap, ‘though the last time I heard a blackcap,’ he continued, ‘it turned out to be a garden warbler.’ I wondered how he knew this one was not a garden warbler. ‘It’s a blackcap’ he said, enigmatically, ‘you rarely see garden warblers.’ I was about to point out that we had not seen this bird either when he added, ‘Blackcaps prefer hedges, garden warblers hide in thickets.’ Looking about, I observed that hedgerows and thickets are not always distinct entities.

More cereal fields took us to bridges over first the Meece Brook, then the railway. Here, weed killer had been used to mark the path. It is not pretty, but I assume its preferable to having walkers crashing through the crops on whatever line they think might be right – it also excludes all possibility of navigational errors.

I wonder which way to go in this field?

Across the bridges and climbing round Lower Heamies, our path was blocked by a crop of rape growing so thickly as to be impenetrable. We had to walk round the field head, overgrown and deeply rutted as it was. With my ankle still sore from the Ramshaw Rocks I found this painful, and my problems were not eased by the plentiful stinging nettles. A bird sat on top of the rape, singing at us; Francis thought it might be a meadow pipit but was too busy failing to avoid the nettles to make a firm identification.

Alison among the nettles

With tingling legs we crossed the low hill, descended past an army shooting range to Yarnfield and found our way to the Labour in Vain. Although it is the second closest pub to home, this was, surprisingly, my first visit. A pint or two of Hook Norton, low in alcohol but full of character, and the landlady’s cheerful co-operation with Mike’s rewriting of her menu ‘I don’t want pickle or red onion and crisps, I want pickle and red onion but no crisps…’ might persuade me to venture there again.

The present inn sign shows a farmer sowing a crop while a flock of birds render his work futile; the old sign showed a couple trying to scrub a black boy white. Considered no longer suitable it was removed some fifteen years ago amid grumbles about ‘preserving traditional pub signs’ and, inevitably, ‘political correctness gone mad.’ We walked outside and sat in the garden – it was just about warm enough after our morning’s exertions. The old sign hangs outside the back door in the area frequented by recalcitrant smokers. As a painting, it is both a pleasing piece of early twentieth century whimsy and a historical document in its own right, but attitudes have moved on and it is now undoubtedly inappropriate for display on the public highway.

Wooded lane out of Yarnfield

Across Swynnerton Park and Home

It had been a long morning and a late lunch, so the afternoon was short. A pleasant wooded lane took us as far as Highlows Farm and then a kilometre and a half across Swynnerton Park brought us to the road behind Swynnerton Hall, from where home is only a couple of hundred metres. It was a simple stroll compared with December’s epic crossing of Swynnerton Park; this time the route was uncomplicated and sunshine replaced the blanket of snow and mist. The very last field was the finest wild flower meadow of the walk, carpeted in the usual buttercups and clover, but with other blue and yellow flowers I only wish I could identify.

The road behind Swynnerton Hall

And so, ten weeks after we set off, we finished in exactly the same place as we started. The 60 km walk is described as the Stone Circles Challenge, though this moderately fit sixty-year-old did not find it particularly challenging – at least not when taking three days over it. It can hardly be described as one of the world’s great walks, there are no hills to climb, rivers to ford or sweeping vistas to see, but it is a very pleasant walk and surprisingly varied. Mostly it crosses rich farmland, some of it arable, some grazed by cows or sheep, but there are also woodlands, streams in hidden dells and country villages. Even better, it started and finished on my own doorstep; what pleasanter way to spend three unusually sunny, and completely rain-free spring Saturdays?

The Stone Circle

Part 1: Swynnerton to Fulford
Part 2: Fulford to Sandon Bank
Part 3: Sandon Bank to Swynnerton

Istanbul (3): The Topkapı Palace and The Grand Bazaar

The Palace of the Ottoman Emperors, Lunch on the Galata Bridge and a Fabulous Market

Turkey

The Topkapi Palace

The Topkapı Palace was the home of the Ottoman sultans from 1465 until Abdül Mecit built the Dolmabahçe Palace in 1856. It sits on the broad tip of the Sultanahmet peninsula alongside Haghia Sophia and the Blue Mosque.

The tourist heart of Istanbul.
The Topkapi Palace and Grand Bazaar are on the Sultanahmet Peninsula, the Galata Bridge crosses the Golden Horn to the north

Unlike European palaces, it is not a single building, but a series of pavilions in four courtyards – a stone version of the tented encampments of the earlier nomadic Ottomans.

Hagia Eirene, Topkapı Palace, Istanbul

The first courtyard is, and always was, open to anyone, though entering by the Imperial Gate may not have been an option in days gone by. It once housed a bakery, a college and a hospital; still there are the imperial mint, the 6th century church of Hagia Eirene – rare among Byzantine churches in that it was never converted into a mosque - and the fountain where the imperial executioner washed his hands and sword after nipping off a few heads. We strolled towards the Camelot towers that guard the entrance to the second courtyard, stopping only at the ticket office on the way.

The executioner's fountain, Topkapı Palace, Istanbul

There is little in the second courtyard, the peacocks and gazelles of Ottoman times are gone, so we walked diagonally across it to the harem entrance, which requires another ticket. Guidebooks say you must arrive early to see the harem but turning up at 9.45, several hours after dawn prayers had been called, we may not have had the place to ourselves, but we were hardly fighting the crowds.

The Harem

My idea of a harem is based on the adventures of Jim Dale and Kenneth Connor among the Vestal Virgins in Carry on Cleo. This may have little to do with history, but the idea of a life of ease and comfort, albeit in a gilded cage, is not easy to shake. In the Topkapı harem, the walls are covered with blue tiles, giving the rooms a hard, cold feel particularly on a day that was not conspicuously warm. The few furnishings – maybe there would have been more and softer carpets and couches when the palace was in use - offered little comfort.

Inside the harem, Topkapı Palace, Istanbul

The western system of kings having one wife and, therefore, one clearly defined oldest son to inherit the kingdom, has the advantage of clarity, even if it lacks quality control. With multiple wives, the status or ambition of a prince’s mother often trumped primogeniture. The sultan generally had dozens (occasionally hundreds) of sons, so succession was a serious problem. After Beyazit I died in 1402 (before the Ottomans took Istanbul) there was an eleven year interregnum while his sons fought over the succession. This was not good for the empire, so it became standard practice for the prince who grabbed the throne to start his reign by executing his brothers and half-brothers. By the 17th century such barbarous practices were no longer acceptable and it was part of the genius of the Ottoman sultans that they found a solution that actually made the problem worse.

Courtyard of the concubines, Topkapı Palace, Istanbul

On ascending the throne an emperor would now imprison his brothers in ‘the cage,’ a suite of rooms within the harem where they were tended by deaf-mutes, eunuchs and concubines. Being confined in luxury was an improvement for the sultans’ brothers, but not necessarily for those around them. More than one sibling was plucked from the cage to become emperor whilst having a very tenuous grasp on reality. Ibrahim the Mad (sultan 1640-48) was reputed to enjoy archery, but only using live human targets, and had all 280 of his concubines sewn into weighted sacks and dumped in the Bosphorus on the basis of palace tittle-tattle. These stories were disseminated, possibly even invented, by those who deposed him; there is no hard evidence for their truth – and none that he was anything remotely like a competent ruler.

The Third and Fourth Courtyards

We emerged from the harem into the third courtyard which contains a tiled pavilion that was once the library of Ahmet III, but is more remarkable for the artefacts housed in the pavilions around the edge.

Temporarily daunted by the queue for the treasury we took a quick look at the collection of imperial clothing. The Sultans were not, apparently, large men, at least not in height, and it was interesting working out exactly how some of the garments were worn. Fashion, it seemed, changed remarkably little over four hundred years.

In the third (or possibly fourth) courtyard, Topkapı Palace

Facing up to the Treasury queue, we shuffled round the four rooms in a slow moving crocodile. Peering into the recessed display cases we saw many expensive but rather useless objects. Jewelled flasks, bottles and arrow quivers might be beautiful but are of little use as flasks, bottles and arrow quivers, though a diamond encrusted suit of chain mail scooped the prize for pointless opulence. The 86-carat ‘Spoonmaker’s diamond’, the world’s fourth largest cut diamond, was allegedly found on a rubbish tip in the 17^th century and does have a certain beauty. There is also a throne, a gift from the Persian Nadir Shah.

The Topkapı dagger - so-called only since it co-starred with Peter Ustinov in the 1964 film 'Topkapı’ - was made as a return gift to Nadir Shah. Unfortunately, the Shah died before the dagger was delivered and it was brought back to Istanbul.

View of the Bosphorus from the fourth courtyard of the Topkapı Palace, Istanbul

A box of several dozen emeralds, some of them very large, for which no use had been found, seemed a fine example of conspicuous excess. To be fair to the Ottomans, when it comes to flaunting unused wealth, their treasury comes a distant second to that of the Shahs of Iran. In one room in Tehran, they gathered together all the justification ever needed for a revolution.

Across the courtyard are treasures of a different kind. In chronological order they are, the saucepan of Abraham, the staff of Moses, the sword of King David, the hand and part of the skull of John the Baptist, the mantle of the Prophet, and various strands from his beard. I know nothing of the history of the mantle or beard and it is possible that they are what they are claimed to be, but for the saucepan, skull, staff and the rest mere skepticism would seem foolishly naïve.

One tiled pavilion gets to look a lot like every other tiled pavilion, Topkapı Palace, Istanbul

The fourth courtyard has views over the Bosphorus on one side, the Golden Horn on the other and several pavilions in between. The problem with tiled pavilions is that it soon becomes difficult to tell one from another. The word translated as pavilion is ‘köşkö’, from which we get ‘kiosk’ – a word from which we have stripped the grandeur along with the accents.

Lunch Beneath the Galata Bridge

Seeing the palace easily took up the whole morning and at lunchtime we headed down towards the Galata Bridge. Beyond the bridge a couple of ornate boats grill fish on deck and provide inexpensive fish sandwiches for a steady stream of punters. Our daughter had recommend them, but ....

Fish sandwich, anyone? By the Galata Bridge, Istanbul

...we headed under the bridge to the lower deck, lined with more formal fish restaurants.

Fish restaurants line the lower deck of the Galata Bridge over the Golden Horn, Istanbul

We chose a restaurant, a trolley of fish was wheeled to our table and we examined various suspects. They were sold by weight, and as the waiter popped them on the scales and I mentally calculated the cost. It was not cheap, these things never are. According to Lynne I then had an attack of meanness; I rationalized my decision by saying the fish was not the freshest I have ever seen. Straight out of the Bosphorus, we were told, but any Portuguese restaurant would invite you to choose from shinier, healthier, fresher fish than these.

We settled for the basic ‘portion of Sea Bream’, which may have disappointed the waiter, but it is his job to make me happy not vice versa. It was acceptable if a little dry and overcooked. The ‘complimentary’ fruit salad and Turkish coffee were far better.

The Grand Bazaar

We again walked back via the spice market and Grand Bazaar. The Grand Bazaar is a vast network of roofed streets – to call it a covered market is like calling the Grand Canal a ditch.

Grand Bazaar, Istanbul

There are areas for clothes, carpets, gold and silver, antiques and anything else you might wish to buy. Lynne and I are not great shoppers, but it was still fascinating to walk through. We ended up with several boxes of Turkish Delight, some extraordinarily expensive Iranian saffron (Turkish is much cheaper, but lacks the richness of smell, flavour and colour) and a coffee pot to replace the one we bought so cheaply in Egypt (we soon discovered why it was so cheap - it leaked).

Inside the Grand Bazaar, Istanbul

That evening we returned to the restaurant we had visited on Monday night, straight from the airport. It was small and unpretentious, little more than a lokanta, though it served alcohol. We were recognised and welcomed, which is always pleasing. We decided to share one main course and add a series of vegetable dishes and from the reaction of the management we were doing nothing unusual. Steak and rice, green beans, aubergines, cheese and bread, were all washed down with a large glass of Raki – similar to Ouzo but with a rougher, just-distilled edge. It was our best meal in Istanbul.

The city has been officially called Istanbul by the rest of the world since 1930, but the name has been used locally for a thousand years. We spent most of our time in the old quarter, which has an exotic charm, but even here it is seems (and there are those who disagree) to be a city whose soul is Islamic, but whose heart is European. It is the only major world city to straddle two continents, but modern Istanbul is, if not in the European mainstream, not far from it. The vast rural hinterland in what was once called Asia Minor, may be another matter – I have not been there…yet.

We saw most of the major sights in three days, but it was hard work and there is much more to Istanbul than this. It is a city worthy of a longer stay.[Update: We returned for a very full day in  August 2014]

Istanbul

Part 1: The Blue Mosque, Haghia Sofia and the Bosphorus

Part 2: The Cistern and the Dolmabahçe Palace

Part 3: The Topkapı Palace and The Grand Bazaar
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Part 4: Taksim Square and the Galata Tower (Aug 2014)