The perfect tour

I’ve been guiding in Oxford for nearly 20 years now, not continuously of course – it has always been a part-time activity. In that sense it has fitted well with my lack of commitment: I could spend long periods in Spain, or working on our regreening project at Stow on the Wold, or travelling the world. It also fitted well with my other activities, including writing, walking and such. It was never a big earner, you need to be very committed to make it your only source of income, and events can easily result in no income at all: both winter and lock-down are examples. I haven’t finished guiding yet, but I reckon the end is somewhere in sight which made me think of the perfect tour. It might not be what you expect.

The ingredients are pretty much as follows: the participants, the theme, the weather and the guide. By the latter I mean, in this case, the guide’s mental attitude. None of these are truly in a guide’s control. Mostly you have no idea who the participants are going to be beyond nationality or sometimes age. Take a recent day when I had an emergency tour to deliver. The organiser, based in London. wanted the tour delivered on the following day for thirty -three people. I only take nineteen and even that is quite a crowd on the streets of Oxford. Negotiations via phone and email were not complete until the group were on the train and on their way to Oxford! The organiser agreed to split the tour and we agreed on a price for each tour. I quickly showered and rapidly pedalled down to the railway station. I like a challenge.

They were from Wako University in Texas and when we finally found each other I was greeted with enthusiastic, but undeserved, Texan whooping. The split was agreed outside the Said Business School and the afternoon lot wandered off towards the centre. My first lot, mostly young and female, had a thirst for knowledge about the workings of the Uni and, as often, tried desperately to fit this to the US system. They do not, of course, fit. But, the long trek from the station aside, it was a good, though challenging, tour which evinced many demanding questions from my enthusiastic audience. The tour for the remainder of the group was at 1.30 pm, meeting at the Weston Library. No one came. I waited for a while then a couple with two very small children turned up – that was all. What happened to the other nine I shall never know. And here’s a problem: a seven and a three-year old have little interest in the workings of the University and their parents’ main interest is the welfare and happiness of their kids. Even conjuring up Harry Potter does not help in these circumstances. Nevertheless, I did my best and dropped them off to meet the rest of their group at Christchurch where they could take their prearranged audio tour with their colleagues at the “Harry Potter” college.

Of course, there is no perfect tour. But a state of perturbation in the guide and enthusiasm in the guided nudges things that way. I suppose one of my best was with an audience of one: a Harvard professor. At the end of the tour, actually more of a spirited conversation than tour, he thrust a $50 tip into my hand. This I heartily refused saying that I had enjoyed the tour just as much as he claimed to have done, but he insisted.

Me and my golf trolley do a bit more of Cotswold Way

 

Actually it was not supposed to be a bit more, it was supposed to be the rest of it after completing the Bath to Stroud section last year.

I started out from Stow on the Wold at around 10am on 12^th June 2024 having completed some necessary mods to the golf trolley, now called the GT. Most important was a fast release connector to detach the thing from my haversack. This latter worked well, and eased the problem presented by the bloody kissing gates. Bus to Merrywalks in Stroud then managed to reconnect with the Costwold Way at Ruscombe. That was not easy. I had to stop at a pub called the Star Inn on the way to ask for directions, then finally managed to rejoin the Way which I have now renamed the Dogswold Way since there are so many of the four footers exercising their owners up there nowadays.

The first stage was a walk to Painswick providing some great views of the Severn Valley along the way. In Painswick I spent my first night under canvas in a wood opposite the town’s Rococo Gardens. Didn’t sleep too well: female foxes screaming, I think. Found a pub of course. It was the Royal Oak which a man on the street told me was the best pub in the world! It was not half bad. Good food, great local ale and an excellent lady publican plus a few friendly locals to converse with. I was short of water for next day and the landlady gave me a bottle, “No charge, because I admire what you are doing”. Wow.

Woke at six and, after the usual hour de-tenting, I rejoined  the Cotswold Way which passed right next to my corner of the wood. It led through a golf course which was lightly populated by early morning dog walkers often with 2,3 or 4 dogs, plus a few early golfers who, I thought, eyed my GT with some perplexity. I was directed by helpful walkers towards Painswick Beacon but I did not see it.  Very poorly signposted. Weather was still good with sunshine though chilly. Then a long trek mostly through steep sided beech woods (eg Pope’s Wood, Upton and Brockworth) with limited views due to the trees. Rounded the steep sided Cooper’s Hill before coming to a roadway and then along wide and often muddy farm tracks chewed up by tractors. There I had long views towards Gloucester and could see Witcombe Reservoir. Met a few people: mostly women walkers or dog walkers. One woman was from Holland and had her whole trip organised by Cotswold Walkers who transported her luggage from stopover to stopover. She eyed my GT with something between curiosity and distaste.

There is a pub at Birdlip Hill, but I arrived at about 11am and wanted to reach Cheltenham where I planned to overnight so carried on rather than having a bite of lunch there. Plodding on I began to see and hear a very busy road which turned out to be the A417 heading up the hill to the old Air Balloon Pub - recently deflated. This is the place where, as I told anyone who would listen, I had my first pint of bitter, aged 15 years (me, not the beer).

Had my lunch, a scotch egg, at the car park near the crest. Wonderful views towards Gloucester and the Malverns, but marred by the noise of the A417 then on each side of me. The area around the flattened pub was like a war zone. Heavy lifters crushing and moving rock for some new road layout, same machines that destroyed the Air Balloon, I suppose. Leaving that behind me I entered the strange diamond of road and path which sits atop Crickley Hill, home to two stone-age occupations and then an iron-age one. Though redolent with ancient history there was little to see of that, but those old ‘uns did have a great and expansive view from up there.

Getting out through the northern point of the diamond was tricky, high gradient slopes plus a narrow track and I was quite confused by it all – didn’t seem to line up with the map. I struggled on through strengthening drizzle to Leckhampton Hill, part of my upbringing in Cheltenham, and headed for the strange natural limestone tower known as the Devil’s Chimney. I did not see it, the drizzle had become a serious rain storm. I donned my waterproof trousers and struggled along hardly able to see much through the rain and also battered by strong winds. I felt like an arctic explorer, but managed to find the Way to Hartley Hill with its misty views of Cheltenham to the north. After that the Way made a dog leg south towards Seven Springs where I had to take the very busy A435 road. It was horrendous, no pavement and the grass on the verge so long that I could not drag the GT through it so kept to the very edge of the road itself with cars and lorries within inches of the wheel of the GT. Very relieved to turn off onto a proper path that led up to Ravensgate Hill and which then turned back in the correct direction making for the reservoir to the east of Cheltenham.

I had planned to camp near Cheltenham for the night but the rain came back and the whole area on the upper slopes became very slippery, not good when you are towing a GT. The downward path edged along a steep decline where I had to push the GT in case it might drag me down the slope from behind. I did slip once in fact, but managed to save myself and the GT from falling. Having lost the Cotswold Way, I was forced to enter Lineover Woods which eventually led me to the A40. However, before I reached the road, I had decided to abandon the walk. It was just too wet and the forecast was grim. I checked the bus times to Stow on my phone and found that the very last bus was due at the Reservoir Inn at 18.48, I had ten minutes or so to get there. I could just make it. This was an amazing and fortuitous coincidence. I could not believe my luck, but the bus did arrive and I clambered aboard with all my stuff.

Disappointing. I had only covered about 26 miles, consumed 3 pints of ale and visited just two pubs. But the walk was good and I will continue on to Chipping Camden sometime this year.