The River Avon runs right through the middle of Bristol and on out to Avonmouth, which is obviously, the mouth of the river.

Since the river leads to the sea, the Avon is tidal. Some parts of the day it just looks like an emptied out basin of mostly mud. Other times it’s full.

When you see it all emptied out, it’s hard to imagine that ships ever came down the river into the Bristol Harbour, but Bristol used to be a major shipping port.

The port closed in the 1970’s because the boats became too big to squeeze into the Avon. Now the ships come in to Avonmouth.

Early in our time here I discovered a path that runs right along the river about 3/4 of a mile from our house. I put together a loop that incorporates walking along the Avon for a while and then climbing up the hill to the Downs and back to our house.

The whole walk is only about 3 miles, but you get a fairly strenuous climb in, so it’s one of my training walks for mountain climbing.

But the part where you walk by the river is delightfully flat.

I took my Dad on this walk at the end of summer on a fairly hot day, and he loved it. He still remembers it as one of his favorite walks we did during his visit. It was just the two of us. The tide was in, so there was a slight breeze off of the river.

To get to the path, you head to the Sea Mills train station and cross under the tracks to the edge of the River Avon.

During my parents’ visit, we had used the Sea Mills train station to visit other places, so Dad already knew the way there.

It’s funny how it is a relief for parts of my life to become familiar to my loved ones. 

Now that I’ve taken my parents on several of my regular walks, when I say, I walked up on the Downs today, they can see it. They know the way from my house and can picture the climb up the hill and the big green expanse at the top. It’s comforting to me for them to be able to picture my life here.

When you leave the River Avon to get back up to the Downs, you climb through a forest known locally as the goat gully. A herd of billy goats is kept on this part of the hill as a conservation effort. Apparently they eat invasive species that would otherwise crowd out the wildflowers.

My dad found this part of the walk awfully steep, but it’s quick. When we emerged from the gully, we were on the western end of the Downs, so the rest of the way to my house is flat and downhill. 

I walked the River Avon several more times this autumn. I saw the leaves change colors and then fall off the trees. Every time I go, I remember this day with my dad and look forward to his coming back to walk with me again.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here and subscribe to future stories here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Along the Avon appeared first on Alison Chino.

The days are drawing in.

This phrase is one that I often hear in England to describe the time of year where night is stretching drastically into the morning and evening hours.

In June the days are extravagantly long here. After the summer solstice, they begin to shrink, but the light is still so plentiful that you only seem to lose a tablespoon of its liquid gold at a time. But towards the end of September, it’s like the sunlight is being poured out by the pitcher. It is dumped off the beginning and ending of the day until you feel like the darkness is closing in on you.

At the beginning of October, I was already feeling it.

The days were definitely drawing in. 

I had planned to go to the United States for a visit during the last two weeks of October. I knew that when I came back, between the long nights and the rainy, gray skies, the light was going to feel absent.

Days drawn.

So before I left town, I cleared my schedule for a day when the weather looked decent and I planned one last long walk of the season. I took the bus from just outside my house to Shirehampton, then I walked over the Avon River and to Portishead through Portbury, a nature reserve. I did a loop around Portishead from the marina to the beach where I reached the section of the walk I was really out for, a seven mile stretch of gorgeous coastline between Portishead and Clevedon along the Somerset Coastal Path.

It turned out to be an incredible day. The sun was shining and the temperature crawled all the way up to 65 degrees, the warmest it had been all week.

As I walked along, I paused when the path touched the sea and few a threw stones into the water.

When I stopped to eat my lunch, I lapped up the sunshine and the breezy air blowing off of the Bristol Channel.

After some snacks, I passed an old lighthouse and climbed over sand dunes.

The afternoon sun probably slowed my pace a little, but I didn’t mind.

When I reached Clevedon, it was well into the afternoon, so I didn’t stay long, though it seems like a place that warrants a longer visit for sure. Maybe next spring I’ll come back again, I thought.

I checked the bus schedule and saw that a bus for Bristol would be arriving soon, so I made my way to the stop. The bus ride was about an hour back to the center of town. There was still some light left when I stepped off the bus, so I walked home from where it dropped me. That way I could take the route under the trees of the promenade while they were still fluffy and green.

By the time I got home, I had walked a total of almost 18 miles. My body was definitely talking to me. I wrote in my journal that it was worth the aches in my knees to be outside all day in the sun one last time before the days draw in for good.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here and subscribe to future stories here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Solo Coastal Walk to Clevedon appeared first on Alison Chino.

Recently I left my trekking poles in The Old Crown Inn and so when I went back to get them, I decided to walk a new route in the area.

I was by myself, so there was no one else to ask about this strange little stone structure as I walked by.

The building, which was part of the actual wall, was just outside the village of Kelston. I went in for a closer look at the hobbit-sized door, and though it might have been the inspiration on the outside for a home in the shire, up close it was dark and dank inside.

And there was a tiny little sign on the door.

It said Village Lockup.

I snapped a picture and kept going, thinking I would look it up later.

But while I walked, I tried to guess at the building’s use. Maybe people were locked into this building for disorderly conduct in the pub down the road? Or for some other offense?

But the more I thought about it, I decided that no, surely not. You wouldn’t put a person in there. I don’t think it was even tall enough to stand up in, and there was almost no light.

It must be for stray animals, I thought.

Yes, that seems right. If someone else’s cow or sheep wandered into your field, then maybe you put it in the village lockup until your neighboring farmer could be notified to go pick it up.

Mystery solved.

But then I got home and looked it up.

And of course, I was wrong.

The building was for people.

Local parishes owned village lockups, and the constable used them to hold someone until they could take them to justice in a town.

It was intentional that they had no light source, scant ventilation and no form of sanitation. Sometimes a village lockup had hay on the floor or stocks and chains on the walls.

From Wikipedia:

The majority of surviving village lock-ups date from the 18th and 19th centuries when rural communities struggled to police thefts, burglaries, shootings, drunkenness, the obstruction of watchmen and the stealing of livestock. During this period a number of lock-ups were built as a temporary place of detention for local rogues and miscreants until they could be removed to a town.

Many of the village lockups in England are round, which explains their other common name: the round house.

A line from a Charles Kingsley novel seems to imply that if someone put you in the village lockup for drunkenness, then you could be set free from the dark little hole after sleeping it off.

Put him in the round house till he gets sober.

However, sometimes local folks tormented people in the village lockups to drive them crazy as a kind of insurance that they would leave their village when someone came from the outside to assess them.

The lockups fell out of use in the nineteenth century with a government act that established a paid police force in each county, as well as police stations with prison cells.

I have a lot of recent curiosity about police in my own country, so this history was interesting to me.

The constables that existed in England before the paid police force were unpaid officials. They were either elected or appointed by the justice of the peace.

Like volunteer firefighters or mountain rescue teams, the constable was a community servant.

The first police in England were the River Police in London. In 1798, England’s busiest port needed to employ someone to protect all the cargo. (source)

The difference between the constable and a police officer is noteworthy.

The former volunteered to keep the peace between people and the latter accepted employment to protect property from people.

Still though, I wouldn’t have wanted to be responsible for putting someone in the village lockup.

Now that I think about it, even a cow or a sheep would probably find it pretty depressing in there.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Village Lockup appeared first on Alison Chino.

One night while I was on the Camino, I was talking on the phone to Simon, and he said,

Hey Dad and I went on a walk today that you would love.

Music to my ears!

Tell me more. I replied.

He told me that the scenery was “really nice,” and that there were some great stops along the way.

Well, I love great stops. 

So when my mom was visiting, we went back to this great walk.

Sometimes a walk is so perfect that it becomes a regular for when folks visit us.

There are several boxes it has to check. Of course, you want it to be beautiful. But also, it can’t be too far of a drive from home. We always prefer a circular walk to an in and out. And then it’s a bonus if there is a good place to stop for a drink or lunch on the way home.

Even better, you pass the fun place to stop when you are actually out on the walk, rather than on the drive home.

This Swineford Kelston circular is one to repeat for sure. It has not just one place to stop while you’re walking, but THREE!

Two pubs and a cheese shop all on one meander through the countryside.

My first time on this walk was with my mom, so we stopped at all three places.

About two miles in, we got to the super cutie Bath Soft Cheese Shop, where we popped in to buy cheese and crackers to take home for later. (You can also eat lunch at the cheese shop.)

Then a little further down the road, we reached The Old Crown Inn, We stopped for a cup of tea in their gorgeous, flower-covered beer garden.

When we left The Old Crown Inn, we walked uphill for about a half mile. It’s not terribly hard as climbs go, but it’s steady. (You gain about 1000 feet of elevation total on this 7 mile loop.)

The reward for the climb was the 360-degree views from the top of Kelston Hill.

We could see both Bath and Bristol from the top, depending on which direction we looked.

From Kelston Hill, the walk was a mostly downhill meander through farmland. For a little while, we even crossed paths with The Cotswold Way. It was fun to see the signs again from the now familiar trail, and to get to show my mom part of the walk I had done in the spring.

After lots of sheep-spotting and a little bit of woodland, we passed an old church and emerged onto a road that crossed right in front of another pub, The Upton Inn.

We had been walking for while by this point, so we stopped and had a lovely Sunday afternoon meal (Sunday Roast + veggie burgers!) at the pub before heading back to our car.

Simon was right about this walk. I did love it!

It was an absolutely lovely day out.

Since then we have been back to this Swineford Kelston circular walk a few times with guests, and sometimes we walk it in reverse and end at The Old Crown Inn or the Cheese Shop for lunch. The last time we went was in November while my niece was visiting and by the time we reached The Old Crown Inn, it was pouring down rain and we were all soaking wet. It was such a different experience from the bright blue June day with my mom! But we warmed up quickly in the pub, where they had a fire going, and we were even able to get a bus back to our car from just outside the pub.

I kind of love doing the same walk at all different times of year and with different people. I like getting to know a route really well, so that I notice the changes in the seasons by the way the terrain changes on the walk.

This loop was so muddy in November that I took it much slower just trying not to slip. In June, the trails were almost overgrown with flowers and ferns. And in July, we were sticky hot.

The June lambs were not tiny, but still young. In the fall, I almost couldn’t tell the difference between mamas and babies.

I’m sure I still have nuances to discover on this circular and lots more times of the year to see it. If you visit me, there is a good chance I will take you there. I’ll even let you choose if we go to the cheese shop or the pub for lunch.

If you’re ever in the area this lovely circular walk is on AllTrails.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Swineford + Kelston Circular appeared first on Alison Chino.

We almost always pack a picnic lunch for our Saturday shenanigans in the hills.

Tuna sandwiches are lovingly prepared and then stacked into tupperwares, or in a pinch, we will pick up boxed sandwiches in the shop on our way out to the countryside, taking part in the ubiquitous meal deal in the UK & Ireland, which comes with a sandwich, a snack (usually a bag of crisps) and a drink for less than a fiver.

I love having lunch with me on a long walk. I usually pack a few snacks in my bag even if I am just having a wander around town. I just feel like I can wander further when I have trail mix and clementines in by backpack, and if I happen to spot a bench in the sunshine, well, so much the better.

But lately, I am finding that we often end up eating the bulk of our lunch back at the car (or at home) when the hike is over, after having carried it all day in our packs.

This is, of course, because of the weather.

On a wet day or even just a really cold and windy day, we don’t stop much while we’re walking. We might pause for everyone to grab a very quick small bite, washed down with a swig of hot tea from the flask. Sometimes we eat without even sitting down, just shoving food down to keep up our energy, like a car swinging through the service station.

We press on quickly before our legs get too stiff.

Often, I have just managed to get my sandwich out before Taido and Simon have already scarfed theirs down and are saying it’s time to go. I take two quick bites, wrap it back up and put it away. I swing my pack back on as I start walking, trying to catch up to the boys, who are already disappearing around the next bend.

Taido doesn’t much like to dilly dally even on the sunniest of days, but in bad weather, he really keeps you moving.

On days like these, I find that I miss the stops. I like to pause for a rest as much as I like to finish my whole sandwich.

When I plan a hike, I intend for the picnic lunch to be more of an event than this throwing-down-a-snack-while-walking business. But this past September, I ran into the same problems Taido tries to keep us from facing.

Several days we had our lunch in the rain, and folks were getting too cold when we stopped. The wind and rain kind of spoil my picture of the perfect hiking picnic, so in such circumstances, I guess it’s not too terribly bad to eat the rest of your lunch at 4pm in a hostel lobby. At that point, you’re just glad to be warm.

Still, nothing quite beats being able to sit down, spread out and rest in the sunshine while leisurely eating a few simple items that are miraculously improved in taste just by how tired and hungry you are. And also a good view doesn’t hurt.

My pursuit of the perfect picnic lunch is part of the joy of hiking, and maybe it’s made that much more special by the fact that it only comes along once in a while.

I will keep carrying my sack lunch, just in case the sun comes out.

BONUS: Here’s a list of all the things I might put in a picnic lunch:

Sandwiches or wraps:

Fillings include tuna, egg salad, peanut butter and jelly, hummus and roasted red peppers, pesto and omelette.

If I am in Spain, Italy or France, I often just buy a big baguette and some local cheese.

Fruit:
Apples, oranges, grapes, pears.

Snacks:

Chips/crisps, nuts, trail mix, raisins, protein bars.

My favorite homemade trail mix right now is dark chocolate, coconut flakes and pecans.

Treats:

Brownies, cookies, mini Kit-Kats or Twix bars, Peanut M&Ms, energy bars.

Drinks:

I carry water and a flask of hot tea when the weather is cold. I also carry those tablets (Nuun) that you can put in your water for extra electrolytes on hot days.

I’m always looking for good ideas for what to pack, so please feel free to share your favorite picnic lunch ideas with me!

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Picnic Lunch appeared first on Alison Chino.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog what has been an AMAZING year of walking. Every day during December, I’m going to choose one photo and invite you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here.

Walking to Church Again

Last Sunday, like on many Sundays, we walked through the fog and the rain to church.

Running late, we snuck into the back row of seats and joined in the singing at a service that was well underway.

The morning was dedicated to the confirmation of several young folks, which was wholly unfamiliar to me.

I should perhaps admit that my post-pandemic church attendance has come rather reluctantly. We had some experiences with church before the pandemic that I can only describe as traumatic, and so the pandemic was a strangely welcome pause in thinking about what to do with our Sunday mornings. (It feels insulting to call our experience a trauma when that term applies to events that are wildly worse than what we went through, but part of the way forward for me has been to name it.)

St. Mary Magdalene’s is an Anglican church. Our new home falls within its parish, and we can practically see her steeple from our street, so when we moved here in January, with mask mandates and social distancing still the order of the day, we decided that instead of repeating the rather awkward experience of visiting multiple churches, we would just go to our local Anglican church.

Taido is teaching at an Anglican training college here in Bristol, so it made some sense to attend an Anglican church, though we do not ourselves belong to the Church of England. Sometimes attending church here feels more like an hour of  anthropological observation than anything else, which honestly, feels ok at the moment. I am happy to be an outside observer, growing weekly in my understanding (or in my questions) around the Anglican tradition.

And so, the confirmation service was another tick in the box of previously unknown experiences for me, a mix of not knowing what is happening and scribbling down words and phrases from the liturgy that I can still affirm in my heart.

One of the best things about our new church is that we walk there. I love walking to church again, and walking back home. It’s a short walk, but still, walking there means I don’t arrive in a hurry, even if I am late.

Last Easter, we had family in town and I had made some walking plans that were going to mean we would miss church on Easter, something I probably would not have intentionally done five years ago. When I sent the plans along to everyone, Taido came back and asked if we could shift the days we were gone because he wanted to be in church on Easter. I bawked a little, but eventually changed the schedule so that we would arrive home on Saturday night before Easter morning.

Easter turned out to be a beautiful day, all sunshine, blue sky and bright spring green. During the service, a Christ candle was lit. The candle is a symbol of Christ rising from the dead, a reminder to us, the people of the light, that Christ has overcome the darkness of the tomb.

This past Sunday, at the confirmation service, this same Christ candle was brought out and lit. It is separate from the Advent wreath, which, of course, is also in play at the moment. (So many candles!) At the end of the service, after all the words were read and the people of the light were confirmed, our vicar (that’s the Anglican term for the pastor) lit each young person their own candle from the light of the Christ candle.

Then, before they processed out holding their candles, she said to them:

Walk in this light all of your days. 

It was at this moment that I was glad I had come. And also I was glad I had been in the room last Easter when that very candle had been first lit. I remembered how we stood in the sunshine afterwards in the churchyard taking photos. (And I remembered that spring will come again and I won’t always be so cold, walking in the rain and the dark.)

There is much in the church I don’t know what to do with these days. There are all kinds of beliefs I am questioning, and I am forever aghast at how the church has historically been and continues to be such a source of hate and violence in the world. I am even more appalled at my own part in that ugly dance.

But sometimes a moment is so inexplicably dear and true that I am able to grab hold of it afresh and let its light be enough.

I suppose another way of saying it is that I am more comfortable than ever before with how much I don’t know.

And so this week, I have this short sentence as a hopeful companion and also a meditation. And it is enough.

Walk in this light all of your days. 

The post Mini Walking Stories: Walking to Church Again appeared first on Alison Chino.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog what has been an AMAZING year of walking. Every day during December, I’m going to choose one photo and invite you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. 

A Slow Descent into Borrowdale

We were coming down a steep, rocky path in the rain after a quick lunch in a drizzly fog.

Every step on wet rock was a sneaky invitation to a near treacherous slip. I was taking it oh-so-slow in the hopes that I wouldn’t fall. And even more, I hoped that my slow steps were slowing the steps of the seven others behind me. 

These wet rocks are as slick as snot!

I yelled behind me, borrowing a phrase of my father’s, who also happened to be on the walk, bringing up the rear.

Use your trekking poles, and please try not to fall!

It can be hard to take slow, deliberate steps when you are reaching the point in the day when you are ready to be done.

When all you want is to hurry off the mountain and into a hot shower,  you are more likely to misstep. Most hiking accidents happen towards the end of the day. 

I knew that everyone was already tired from the climb up out of Grasmere to the foggy-topped Green Up, and the rain had cut short what I had hoped would be a good rest at the top.

So it took several hours for us to carefully descend into Borrowdale Valley.

Of course, no one made it down without slipping, but everyone did make it down in one piece. 

Exhausted and wet.

But apart from a few bumps and bruises, unharmed.

Thank. The. Lord.

I said a prayer of relief as I collapsed onto my bunk after getting everyone settled into their rooms.

When we started out in Grasmere that morning, I was all grins and a skip in my step.

Even in a light drizzle, I was delighted to be heading into one of the loveliest valleys in the Lake District. We had barely begun and everyone was stopping to take photos, greeting sheep along old stone walls, and calling out to each other to LOOK! 

I remember thinking to myself that morning, This is why I LOVE bringing people to the Lake District. It’s effortlessly charming. People cannot help but love it!!

And I always love to return. 

But a few hours later, the rain had settled in and faces were not nearly as bright. At least I don’t think they were. Between the fog and the hoods pulled over heads, it was hard to see.

But hot showers and food at the Borrowdale YHA did much to revive our sopping wet crew.

It’s amazing how once you are dry and fed, you can see the day in a whole different light. 

Around the dinner table, faces brighten again. Everyone can laugh about the harder parts of the trail.

The wet, rocky bits are hurdles you overcame. Look how strong you are. Maybe you even had fun.

The beautiful views of the morning come back into focus and the wet, arduous descent into the valley is fast becoming a distant memory.

For tomorrow there are new trails to blaze. 

Never mind that the weather forecast is posted in the hostel reception area, and it’s calling for rain, rain and more rain ahead.

Right now a cozy bunk is calling your name.

The post Mini Walking Stories: A Slow Descent into Borrowdale appeared first on Alison Chino.

110 Miles from Chipping Campden to Bath:

Day 7 Cold Ashton to Bath (10 miles)

We had reached the end.

I woke up both grateful and sad.

Taido, Simon, Kandace and I all had breakfast together at home and then we drove over to where we had stopped the day before in Cold Ashton.

Taido dropped us off and then drove to park at the end and walk back to us.

It was a gorgeous day, and almost immediately, we were seeing the hills and valleys around Bath that make it such a wonderful area of England.

After the previous day of hurrying, we felt like we could really take our time heading into Bath.

And we did. The Cotswold Way winds around as it comes into Bath (somewhat unnecessarily), so you see Bath and then walk away from it, and then see it again, but then go up another hill. It’s a little disorienting, but also exactly what you would do if you went out for a walk from your hotel or home in Bath.

We climbed over hills and crossed the Bath racecourse, as well as a golf course.

We walked until we stopped seeing signs for The Cotswold Way at all because all streets in town lead to The Bath Abbey.

The Bath Abbey is both the beginning and the end of The Cotswold Way. (Some people walk it in the opposite direction.)

We sat right down on the starting stone that lists the stages of The Cotswold Way.

And then it was over as soon as it had begun.

We went for a celebration lunch at The Green Rocket in Bath (my favorite vegan restaurant) and then headed back to Bristol for one last night at home (watching Eurovision!) before Kandace caught the train to London the next day.

110 miles on The Cotswold Way. Worth every step.

I’m super grateful to Kandace for coming along and doing this with me!

And to Taido and Simon for hiking some with us as well!

And to YOU for coming along on the journey via this blog! Thank you for reading!

If reading about The Cotswold Way has got you itching to get out on a trail in the Cotswolds, I highly encourage you to get a Cotswold Way guidebook and go for it! Also, I have taken my Cotswold Way notes and started planning an easier circular around the Cotswolds at a bit slower pace for next spring (April 2023). Just give me a shout on the contact form on my about page if that is something you’d be interested in joining. Happy walking!! XOXO Alison

The post The Cotswold Way Day 7: Cold Ashton to Bath appeared first on Alison Chino.

110 Miles from Chipping Campden to Bath:

Day 6 Wotton-Under-Edge to Cold Ashton (22 miles)

We walked out of Wotton-Under-Edge before any shops were open on a quiet, cloudy morning.

We had opted for only cold breakfast and coffee at The Swan Hotel in the hopes that it would get us out the door earlier.

(Also, in my experience, it’s easier to hit it hard in the morning if you haven’t just finished eating a full English breakfast!)

Kandace had a day pack that Taido had brought over to her, so we were both traveling light.

The trail out of Wotton-Under-Edge was very sweet.
Loads of fields and so many sheep.

Even after six days, we were not tired of seeing sheep.

Nor was I tired of wooded pathways lined with flowering wild garlic.

Honestly, The Cotswold Way stayed beautiful for just about every mile we walked.

Which was good, because we walked A LOT of miles, and on this day especially.

We reached Old Sodbury sometime after noon and stopped for lunch. We had made great time, fitting in 14 miles before lunch.

We found The Dog Inn in Old Sodbury a great place to stop for lunch as we were dog tired.

We both ate quite a bit after our smaller breakfast, and then we drank a pot of tea to help with the afternoon push.

More green hills. More lambs.

And even a few horses, which Kandace stopped to make friends with.

There are not many photos of this day, and even less of the next, because we were walking so fast.

We took very few breaks, and somehow we made it to Cold Ashton by 5pm where Taido was waiting for us with drinks and snacks.

22 miles from Wotton-Under-Edge to Cold Ashton.

I was super proud. And super tired, of course.

Taido drove us back to Bristol where we had a lovely evening and I had SUCH a glorious sleep in my own bed.

I guess some days on the trail are just about seeing how far you can go and this was one of those.

I am constantly questioning my ability to do these long walks (even though I am always planning one), so I love to set a challenge that feels completely out of my range and then surprise myself by being up for it.

The next day we only had 10 miles left of The Cotswold Way. Easy peasy.

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110 Miles from Chipping Campden to Bath:

Day 5 Kings Stanley to Wotton-Under-Edge (15 miles)

If I could only choose one section of the Cotswold Way to do again, it might be this day from Kings Stanley to Wotton Upon Edge. It was undoubtedly another hard stretch with a lot of climbing up and down, but I think it might have been the prettiest.

Of course there are so many variables. The rain had made everything shine, but now the sun was out and the sky was blue again.

We were getting nearer to the end of our walk so I was trying to slow it down, not wanting it to be over too soon.

It’s so strange to look forward to and train for a walk for so long, and then all of a sudden it’s more than half way over.

The days fly by, while the steps go only one at a time.

Our steps took us up the hill from The White Heart to rejoin the trail and climb through a wood to Coaley Peak.

As you near the top of the hill, there are old iron age forts left in the ground. Actually we saw loads of these on The Cotswold Way. There are lots of historical markers showing you where and how people lived ages and ages ago. It’s one of the draws of this trail for folks.

As you walk the ridge, you can see where you’ve come from and where you are headed. There are several bigger towns that you never go through on The Cotswold Way, but that you can see from these hilltops.

We climbed all morning, mostly separately. We opted to spend the morning walking on our own and then meet up in Dursley for lunch, which is the first town we came to on this day.

I was still tired from the march in the rain, so I stopped often when the views were lovely.

You could see the little white specks of sheep in the fields below and also as I looked at the map, I could see we would be circling the ridge, dropping down, and then climbing right back up again.

We descended from Coaley Peak through a wood.

We even passed a few limestone cliffs.

The trees in this wood seemed like they were just about to start walking on the path themselves, leaned in as they were towards the trail.

When I finally got around to the hill I had seen earlier, it seemed much further to climb than it had from so far away.

But eventually I made it up. I even turned around and walked backwards for about a third of it.

Thankfully, it was the final hill of the morning, and lunch was not far away.

I found Kandace at a cute cafe in the middle of town, where we rested for a while and refueled.

Dursley is another cutie town that we could have easily spent a little longer in, but we headed on after our lunch.

More beautiful field crossings.

The climbing was a little more gradual and spread out after the steep morning hills.

For much of the afternoon, we could see the Tyndale Monument in the distance as it got closer and closer.

At one point the trail went right through a tall overgrown rapeseed field.

You had to walk right through the rapeseed. We were both already having some allergy issues since it was May and everything was in bloom, so we dug out our face masks, which we had not yet used on this trip, and put them on to walk through this field.

You could see the line of the trail lightly through the field, but at some points the plants came up over our heads.

It seemed like this field swallowed us up and spit us out on the other side.

We were covered in little tiny yellow petals.

The next village we came to on The Cotswold Way after Dursley was North Nimbley.

It’s another one-street town, but very cute.

I think maybe I aspire to one day have “The Street” as part of my address.

We climbed up through another forest after North Nimbley.

When we emerged from the trees we were finally on the hill with the Tyndale Monument.

We had been watching it all day, so it only seemed fitting to climb to the top.

It was built in 1866 honor of William Tyndale, who did an early translation of the New Testament into English.
He was born nearby.

We were rewarded with beautiful views of the surrounding valleys and villages.

You can clearly see The Street of North Nimbley below.

From the monument, we descended into Wotton-Under-Edge.

This was one of my favorite towns we passed through, and again we would have happily spent longer here.

We stopped in a pub as soon as we got into town, and then afterwards we made our way to our hotel, The Swan.

At this point we were less than an hour away from Bristol, so Simon and Taido drove over to have dinner with us. It would be our last night sleeping on the trail as the next day we would be so close to home that it would have been silly not to sleep there.

We ate a (final) yummy pub dinner at The Swan with Taido and Simon, and then we loaded them up with everything we didn’t want to carry the next day and sent them on their way.

We went for a quick wander around the town (again, a walk on a walk) before heading to bed.

As we walked, we talked through our strategy for the next day. Since we would be sleeping at home the next night, we were going to walk as far as we could and then call Taido to come get us.

We had 32 miles left of the trail, so we figured we could knock out at least 20 of those miles the next day.

Our thinking was that we would just go for one big push and then on Saturday, we would have an easy day.

Taido and Simon were planning to hike our final stretch into Bath with us on Saturday. Then Kandace would be heading home on Sunday. (How did it go by so fast?)

We popped into the pub for one final nightcap before our last sleep in a Cotswold village.

The post The Cotswold Way Day 5: Kings Stanley to Wotton-under-Edge appeared first on Alison Chino.