Saturday 4 June 2011

Perrott's Brook to the Round Elm Crossroads: Day 11 of the South West Odyssey (English Branch)

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.

The Delights of the Cotswolds: An Ancient Church, a Cottage Garden and More

Welcoming Two Guest Walkers

Gloucestershire

Cotswold District

Cirencester was an important city in Roman times when it was called Corinium. It may be less important today, but it is still well worth a visit. Sadly, it is the lot of the Odysseyist to be forever moving on; Lynne and I will return one day and ‘do’ Cirencester properly [We did, in May 2013 - click here].

Heather and Matthew, Francis and Alison’s offspring, joined us for the day. Matthew will be representing Great Britain in the world Orienteering Championships this summer, while Heather has run a half marathon or two, so we judged they should be able to keep up with an over 60s walking group – to be precise only 40% of us are over 60, but all must travel at the speed of the slowest (and oldest and heaviest).

Perrot's Book to Bagenden

Setting off from Perrott's Brook

Some years ago when he was young, and indeed alive, we shared many walks with Dino, another member of the family. Dino would bound off to left and right of the route chasing any squirrel, rabbit or pheasant he saw, smelled or imagined. When he was not doing that he would run up ahead and then come galloping back. In the time we walked 10 miles, Dino would run 50. I had the feeling Heather and Matthew might have been capable of doing the same but, as human beings rather than a somewhat half-witted dog, they wisely chose not to.

A kilometre after the start we passed through the hamlet of Bagendon. One of the delights of the Cotswolds is the way the buildings are so much part of the landscape they seem to have grown organically from it. The tiny church at Bagendon was a perfect example, and also an embodiment of two thousand years of Cotswold history. It also features un the post Churches that Tell Stories.

Bagendon Church

Although the earliest parts of the building are Saxon, Roman votive artefacts have been found in the churchyard suggesting the site was of religious significance in pre-Christian times. The tower is Norman, but the nave was rebuilt in the late fourteen hundreds. The enormous wealth brought to the Cotswolds by the wool trade at that time resulted in many churches receiving a Perpendicular Gothic makeover. Nineteenth century restorations and the addition of a porch in the 1960s were so sympathetic it is hard to tell what is new.

Daglingworth Quarry to the Pinbury Estate

Two kilometres later we passed Daglingworth quarry. Quarries are scars on the landscape, but if buildings are to be constructed from the beautiful Cotswold stone, there must be ugly Cotswold stone quarries.

Daglingworth Quarry

Moving on through Duntisbourne Rouse ....

Through the churchyard at Duntisbourne Rouse

...where we stopped for coffee by a field margin covered with bright red poppies....

A field margin full of poppies

...before crossing part of the Bathurst estate and passing Pinbury Park, a Tudor house largely reconstructed in the 17th century for Earl Bathurst.

Pinbury Park

Sapperton and the Thames and Severn Canal

We found ourselves again on the Macmillan Way and followed it into the village of Sapperton. Where the Macmillan way turns south, we turned west to the bottom of the valley and reached the Thames and Severn canal at the mouth of the Sapperton tunnel.

Cottage garden, Sapperton

At 3817 yards, Sapperton Tunnel was the longest tunnel in England when it was opened in 1789. It is no longer navigable and the kilometre and a half of the canal we followed is dry and overgrown. The railways destroyed its commercial viability in the nineteenth century and although there are plans for restoration – part of the canal nearer the Thames has already reopened – a great deal of work would be required to restore this section.

The overgrown remains of a lock on the Severn Thames canal

Stroud District

We stopped at the Daneway Inn for a glass of lunch, the whitewashed eighteenth century building sitting at the top of a sloping garden laid out with picnic tables.

A Plastic Chair with Evil Intent

It was my round, and I emerged from the bar to find three of my companions perched the ‘wrong way round’ at a picnic table, and the others sitting on the lawn facing them. With the bench full and not wanting to sit on the grass I picked up a chair and placed it beside the picnic table facing uphill. It was a flimsy plastic chair and I was aware the legs were buckling as I lowered my weight into it. Mike shouted, ‘No, David!’ which was sound advice and would have been useful, had gravity not already assumed control of the situation. The back legs collapsed and I was tipped out down the slope. Having little choice in the matter I completed the backward roll and landed nimbly back on my feet. I should, perhaps, point out that ‘nimbly’ when applied to a man of sixty weighing over 16 stone (100 kilos, 225 lbs) and falling out of a chair, does not quite have the same nuance as when it is applied to, say, an Olympic gymnast. One of the differences can be measured on the Richter scale.

Fortunately, I had placed my full glass on the picnic table before sitting down so I was saved a cold beery shower. Nothing was damaged except my dignity and I would like to thank Mike for attempting to help. Everybody else just laughed.

To Eastcome, Into and Out of The Toadsmoor Valley and on to Round Elm

We returned to the Severn Thames canal passing a bridge that was in much better repair than the canal,...

Eighteenth century bridge over a missing canal

...before leaving the cut and turning north to climb through Oldhills Wood and re-emerge on the plateau north of France Lynch. A long straight path took us to Eastcombe, a substantial village where a brief ice cream halt was called.

Alison, Francis and Heather arrive at Eastcombe

The descent into the Toadsmoor Valley was down a steep single-track road. The bridge at the bottom had originally been intended as the end of the day’s walk, but we had made a change, partly to shorten day twelve and partly because it looked a difficult place to find by car. It would also have been a difficult place to access, so the change was a good move.

From the bridge, we followed a zig-zag forestry track up through the wood. Above the trees it became a lane, and from Ferris Court Farm to the end of the walk at the Round Elm crossroads, where Lynne and Hilary were waiting for us, a single-track road.

There is a sign nailed to a tree at the crossroads. It says of the route we had just walked. ‘No Through Road. You cannot drive to Eastcombe this way, regardless of what your Sat Nav may say.’ Wise words.

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
+
The Last Post

That's All Folks - The Odyssey is done.

Friday 3 June 2011

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

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.

Saturday 21 May 2011

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