Cotswold Way: The end at last

 I’ve done it! I had hoped to complete the 100 plus mile trek in two sessions, but on the second leg I was rained off at Cheltenham and when I resumed the walk I only managed to reach Winchcombe from where I had to return home by taxi after the disastrous ejection of my tent and belongings from a farmer’s field.

On this, hopefully, the last leg, I left Stow on the nine o’clock bus to Cheltenham with my trusty golf cart (GT) and changed there for Wincombe bus, which was packed full of people heading for the Way. Not really, they were mostly travelling to the town to visit its major attraction: Sudeley Castle.

My Way was the next turning after the Gloucestershire Way where my tent had been forcibly ejected on the last visit and this and it had an interesting name, Puck Pit Lane. After a while the lane became a  trail across a field and it was soon after that I lost my Way.  Puck it, I said to myself, but fortunately I spotted some walkers who were following the Way going south and took my lead from them. It rose steeply. At one point I was almost flat on the ground gripping tree roots to heave up the GT behind me.

Gaining height was rewarding though, the view expanded enormously as I headed north towards Stanway. The Way then dipped deeply down into a steep valley which embraces that tiny village and its eponymous  House. By the way, Winchcombe to Stanway by road is a mere 2.5 miles, by the Cotswold Way it is more than six and at times offers very strenuous hiking.

Next came the village of Stanton which is so lovely for a moment I imagined that I would like to live there. I was soon dissuaded by an elderly local decorator who informed me proudly that the house he was working on was worth £2.1m, and his next job was a place that was for sale at £2.1 m! According to him, all of those characterful Cotswold stone villas that I passed  were worth £2.1m.

Walking became more demanding as I headed towards Broadway and the GT developed a mind of its own, occasional slipping out of its essential quick release linkage then lying stationary on the ground. I think it  was along that I met yet more Americans walking the Way. This couple were about my age or a bit younger, she had been a librarian and he a lawyer  (semi-retired). We had a good old chat about books and writing and of course Trump. The lawyer had not voted for him but had some sympathy for those who did.

I had good reason to avoid Broadway, the quintessential rich persons’ Cotswold village, but I could not. Fortunately, I came across the perfect wild camping spot less than a mile outside the village, fairly quiet, private, and no bother to anyone. Took the usual hour or so to set up camp, have a quick shave and shower (joke!) then walked through a friendly sheep field, past the church and straight into a pub, the Crown and Trumpet. Three handpumps, friendly landlord and discount for CAMRA members (but even then, an expensive pint). Took my perfect pint of Shagweaver outside and made some notes of the day. I then went back in to order some food.

“Kitchen closed at 7.30pm,” said the landlord proudly. “You might get something at the Swan around the corner if you’re quick.”

“OK, I‘ll probably call in for another pint on the way back.”

“Not likely,” he replied proudly, “we close at 9.30pm”. What!!!

The Swan was a swish hotel on the main drag. I wanted something cheap and basic but they did not cater for the likes of me. Well, beggars can’t be choosers so I ate their sophisticated and expensive meal swilled down with a costly pint.

Afterwards I walked along the main street passing priceless art shops, sophisticated book shops and such. I despaired at the lack of cheap and ordinary outlets. Fortunately the Horse and Hounds was not bad, some real people there and a choice of beers at less than a fiver. The barman was a young Frenchman who sounded entirely English but, he told me, when in France he sounded entirely French. We talked about travelling through his country and he told me of a village that had been taken over by the rich!

That night it rained heavily and some water crept into the tent. Also I experienced the worst cramp ever, whole leg cramp. Good job I was isolated, I howled. At six I packed the wet tent and sleeping bag and headed through the town and up the very steep hill towards Broadway Tower. Gosh that was hard going after a night of little sleep and much cramp, but the tower and the scenery was absolutely great. In fact I think that the northern end of the Way is the most visually stunning.

Finally, I crossed the main road at the top of the notorious Fish Hill and followed the Way down towards Chipping Camden. It passes the famous Dover’s Hill (strange sports) and there, right at the end of my trek, I missed the turning down to the town. The only sign I found was marked Cotswold Way Circular Walk so I followed that . Down and down it led into a dense forest with no glimpse of the town. The only person I met was walking her aggressive Pit Bull Terrier. She shouted to me that it was a bit emotional and she was correct, when it saw me with the GT it went berserk. She was literally rolling on the forest floor in an attempt to control the bloody thing. I like dogs, but I confess to being really, really worried by that one. I could hear it barking and snarling for ages afterwards. I finally completed the circular walk by climbing up through the steep forest back to where I had started on Dover’s Hill! It was then an easy descent into the rather lovely, but traffic infested, centre of Chipping Camden.

I had completed the Way at last. This last section had been a hot trek but I did feel happy that I had finally finished. A kind and helpful young lady took a photo of me and the GT outside the lovely Market Hall a few metres from the end point of that long and fascinating Cotswold walk.