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Hiking in the Great Smokies

The green is the very greenest green

The green is the very greenest green

One of my goals in hiking was to hike the Appalachian Trail – not the entire trail, but at least a portion of it, so that when I read about it, I can visualize its beauty and challenges all the better. So a couple of years ago, I joined Adventures in Good Company for a few days of hiking in one of the greenest areas in the States….

Ro in front of Stairway to Heaven Lodge outside Gatlinburg

In front of Stairway to Heaven Lodge outside Gatlinburg

I met a friend, Lee, at the Knoxville Airport on Sunday, then met up with the rest of the group to bus to our lodge, with a quick stop for lunch and a getting-to-know-you at a side-of-the-road café; we eventually dropped our bags at the Stairway to Heaven Lodge (don’t you love that name!), and began our first day’s hike.  A nice introduction to the area, and a short but sweet walk of around 3 miles up to the Little Greenbrier Community, where early settlers of the region…well…settled! The weather was just what you want it to be on a hike…not too hot, crisp breezes and surrounded by the greenest trees everywhere.

The start of our hikes in the Great Smokies

The start of our hikes in the Great Smokies

Our splendid Lodge is actually a mile or so outside of Gatlinburg (more about that in a minute). Having booked a single room, I was lucky enough to be on the second floor with a spectacular view of the mountains from my balcony outside the bedroom windows (the balcony wrapped around the entire second floor.) Downstairs, a huge common room included the kitchen, where our guides prepared breakfast each morning, and got the coffee going. Is there a better aroma anywhere than coffee brewing early in the morning, and sitting with your cuppa on the balcony when the outside scents of the day are crisp and green? (Rhetorical question, but the answer is: NO!) Here is the balcony view…

View from Ro's balcony at the Lodge

View from my balcony at the Lodge

Before we left for our hike, we were given the first commandment, which was and is: “Leave no footprint.” So no matter where you are, you do not leave the trail, and you certainly don’t leave detritus behind. The trails and surrounding mountains, woodlands and waterfalls are so pristine, you know visitors to the area take this deeply to heart.

Monday

On Monday morning, we were all up bright and early and ready to go. Porter’s Creek Trail passed through a forest wilderness of Eastern Hemlocks and Fraser magnolias, and then into hardwoods. Cultural artifacts we see include an old cabin made up of stone walls with an old cantilevered barn close by, and an old cemetery (Owenby), remnants of a simpler time when a village community lived here.

Iconic bridge crossing a stream

Iconic bridge crossing a stream

Our hike took us to Fern Branch Falls, where we have a light lunch, and then it’s back on the trail to the Lodge.  We walk in a mix of light drizzle and sunshine, and all is quiet and beautiful, or beautifully quiet… The only sound you hear are the birds calling. All in all, this takes about 6 hours, as we stop constantly to view the wildflowers and peer inside crumbling stone walls….a little over 4 miles in all.

Jan and Katie and a bite of lunch by the stream

Jan and Katie and a bite of lunch by a stream

On our way back to the Lodge, we’d stopped off at a grocery cum liquor store and picked up some wine, so dinner at the Lodge, prepared by our guides Jan and Katie, was quite a jolly occasion. After which, I could barely keep my eyes open…so to bed, and no sooner had my head hit the pillow, than I was down and out.

Tuesday

Up at 6:30 (which I consider the crack of dawn) to the aroma of the coffee brewing. Running down the stairs to pick up my cup, I plant myself on the balcony to drink in the view. It really is spectacular…the mountains are just incredible.

The "Refrigerator" Great Smokies National Park

The “Refrigerator” Great Smokies National Park

We hiked off the beaten path today, up to a natural limestone sink, called White Oak Sink. It houses various caves, rare plants and a waterfall, and is surrounded by wildflowers.  The hike has some steep ascents, but the Sink is our stopping point for a light snack and photography. Because of the on and off drizzle, all is green green green (and a wee bit slippery). We spend quite a bit of time here, just wandering around the waterfalls and crossing on the logs across the river.

Wednesday

What a day! We start with a short hike in country close to the Pigeon River.

After which, my first experience whitewater rafting. It’s incredible! And to think I almost opted out of this exhilarating adventure. We were about 6 to a raft, including the guide (to whom I was extremely grateful!) who really knew her way around whitewater. While the water was not actually death-defying, it certainly seemed to be doing its job, which was rockin’ and rollin’ to our next stopping point. I was seated to the right rear of the raft, and every time we hit a drop, I’d bounce from the seat onto the bottom of the raft, which meant that the photographs being taken usually just showed the top of my head (if that)!

Ro does the rapids SMILING

Ro does the rapids SMILING – look at that water!

Scheduled to last about 2 hours, because the river was in spate, we were through in a little over an hour – but what an hour! I loved every second of it…screams and all. It was just the best, and I’d do it again in an instant.

The Great Smokies

The Great Smokies

After that, we gathered for an al fresco lunch surrounded by fields and greenery; it doesn’t get much better than that.

Thursday

Getting ready for the hike

Getting ready for the hike

My favorite thing: finally, I get to set toe on the Appalachian Trail! This is so exciting for me, as I’ve wanted to hike on the Trail ever since I read Bill Bryson’s “A Walk in the Woods”. This part of the Trail goes right through the Park, and was the first trail used by the public with absolutely fabulous views everywhere you turn.

The AT sign at the start of the hike

The AT sign at the start of the hike

It’s a very challenging trail, as well. Tree roots everywhere – you end up literally climbing up and down them from beginning to end. Why did I think the Trail would be less challenging? You had to keep your eyes on the “road” otherwise you can trip and smash your face into one of the huge tree roots, which I eventually did. I had a lovely dramatic fall – bashing my sunglasses into my nose, and splatting full force onto the ground. I think I was out of it for about five seconds, but no more…and there was no harm done. Not fun, however.

Resting atop Charlie's Bunion

Resting atop Charlie’s Bunion

The hike was above 5,000 feet, and we were able to see much of the flora and fauna of these higher elevations. Our aim was to reach a bundle of boulders called “Charlie’s Bunion” … we got there in the middle of the day, and clambered to the peak, looking down over glorious views of the Porters Creek Valley, as well as the main spine of the Smokies. It was just such a kick.

Clingman's Dome

Clingman’s Dome

After a much needed short break, we hiked back down and beavered on to Clingman’s Dome, which rises more than 6,500 feet above the Smokies. It’s the highest point along the Appalachian Trail, providing a 360 degree view of the mountains.  Oddly enough, getting up to Clingman’s was harder for me than the entire AT hike. At this time of the day, the climb seemed to loom straight up….Hoo baby! my legs definitely felt it, coming and going. Once you made it to the top, the view from the tower was about 22 miles, but sometimes if the air is super-clear, you can see as far as 100 miles into seven states!

Laurel tree in bloom

Laurel tree in bloom

All in all, we hiked about 10 miles this day. We started early, around 9AM, and finished after 5PM…worth every sore muscle!

Because of the length of the hike, we were all treated to dinner at a lovely little restaurant in Gatlinburg. The food was yummy – but Gatlinburg itself – well, the word “touristy” doesn’t begin to describe it. The shops covered the town with all sorts and conditions of souvenirs; Ripley’s Believe it Or Not Shop fascinated Lee no end. And the masses of people – this was an eye opener: I’d heard about Gatlinburg, but it really has to be seen to be believed. I saw it – and once was enough for me.

Friday

The Group

The Group

It’s time to say farewell to everyone, but also to squeeze in one more hike, one more picnic. This took us to Laurel Falls, through laurel trees, pine trees and oaks blowing in the gentle wind. The falls are named for the mountain laurel, the beautiful flowering tree which seems to be iconic to the Smokies. It’s tough to leave all this beauty behind, but deeply satisfying to know that places of deep, unspoiled loveliness still lie abundant in the heart of the good old U.S. of A!

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Days of Wine and Roses – from the Cotswolds to The Kensington Hotel – Chapter 7

Days of Wine and Roses – from the Cotswolds to The Kensington Hotel – Chapter 7

Friday, September 1…As the days dwindle down to a precious few, it’s really remarkable how slowly time has passed, and how fulfilling each day spent in England has been. From Cornwall to the Cotswolds, there hasn’t been a day that wasn’t fully pleasurable, from the moment we each awoke to the glorious weather, to every view, village, country lane and stile. Lucky us!

On this morning, I was able to meet Old Orchard’s gardener who took such incredible care of its grounds. Mike has been a gardener for some thirty odd years, is self taught, and has a myriad of exquisite landscapes he handles for various clients. Old Orchard was testament to his painstaking care, as a more beautiful garden I have yet to see. Of course, Mike had nothing to do with the grazing sheep in the adjoining field! But every time I see photographs long after returning to the U.S., I’ll remember Mike and Old Orchard and the beauty of flower, fruit, bush and tree – how everything came together to form this truly exquisite English country garden. .

David and I made ourselves sandwiches for lunch, pottered about, and then strolled back to Broadway where we continued the search for “something lavender” for his friends back home. Mid-afternoon, we stopped in the Swan for our half pints of Ubu, and then wended our way to Budgen’s for such items as gooseberry yoghurt…yum!

A restaurant in Broadway called Russell’s was known for its delicious menu, and its side café offered fish and chips, which we decided was necessary fuel for the rest of the day. Along with mushy peas with mint, it was a really tasty early dinner. Need I say we ordered the restaurant’s IPA? We sat outside on benches while the sun shone and children and dogs played around us.

We ambled home along the road between Broadway and Snowshill, stopping in the orchard to pick an apple from the heavily laden tree.

A cloud on this horizon was the chaos of Hurricane Harvey, which was flooding much of Houston, and causing horrific wind damage. We were in constant contact with friends and family back home, and luckily for the most part, they emerged unscathed, as did our homes. The upshot of this for us was whether or not we could get back to Houston the next Tuesday, when we intended to fly home. It didn’t look promising, but we kept in touch with our London hotel The Kensington, and British Airways every few hours just to check on the status of things.

Saturday, September 2…Today would be our last day to really ramble around Broadway, and it was a beautiful day for it. David was finally able to find some lavender products which were made at the Snowshill Lavendar Farm and which were on display at the Cotswolds Trading store, and I checked with a local realtor, as I was getting more and more interested in property in the Cotswolds, and what it would actually cost to live there (big bucks!)

We stopped for lunch at the Broadway Hotel, where David ordered the cauliflower and coriander soup (excellent!) and we both had hamburgers…which sounds a bit of an anomaly, (coals to Newcastle and all that) but so good with Coleman’s Mustard (which we laid on with a shovel…ha!) We always try the IPAs at the pubs and restaurants, and are usually happy with the quality and the taste of each one…Ubu’s being the premier IPA, I think!

The one thing we hadn’t wrapped our taste buds around so far was the Cotswold ice cream, so seeing a vendor’s cart on the street, we stopped for a cone. Cotswold vanilla ice cream is rich and creamy and a tiny bit crunchy, with a certain flavor of its own. I loved it, and appreciated the fact that I only now remembered to check it out…much too good!

We walked down the road to Old Orchard, a little melancholy at the fact that this was probably the last time we’d really be able to take our time and ramble. It was a lovely day, so after David went on into the house, I decided to go for a walk in a different direction, behind Old Orchard and up back lanes lined with fields and old barns and buildings. Everything in the late afternoon looked golden and green.

Sheep dotted the landscape, baa-ing in the distance and there was a gentle breeze. I followed the road to a bridge that was blocked from crossing, so turned another way, ending up outside of another part of Broadway, a little more modern, not quite so picturesque and old. Which was fine.

So back to the house. Runner beans from the veggie garden, picked at the urging of Mike the gardener, were sliced and readied to boil. David and I were determined to have new potatoes with the beans, so we boiled the potatoes, added a little butter, salt and pepper, then sprinkled the remaining watercress atop the dish. David added the remaining Stilton to his. Well, master chefs we are not, but this was great!

We booked Sunday dinner at the Swan, watched an episode of Foyle’s War, and so to bed.

Sunday, September 3…In honor of my dear old dad, David and I decided to have a real Sunday dinner at the Swan, a sort of goodbye celebration.

I’d mentioned to David about the back road into Broadway, and since Steve was tied up and couldn’t drive us over to the inn, we decided to walk to it.

Woof! The weather had changed drastically. As we set out, a cold wind nipped the back of our necks, and a taste of sleet hovered over our heads.

What the previous day had been a pleasurable ramble through bucolic countryside was now a brisk walk to Broadway which seemed to take a little longer than I had remembered! (Lord, I hate being cold!)

By the time we got to the Swan, it was really freezing, made more so by the wind. So a roast beef dinner in the lovely restaurant was just the thing to warm us up (after the usual Ubu IPA!) The dinner was amazing: besides the beef, we had Yorkshire pudding, cauliflower cheese, red cabbage, kale, parsnips, and goose fat roast potatoes. We finished off with sticky toffee pudding. Henry VIII would’ve been proud. Woof!

It was all we could do to pull our jackets on for the walk home, and the weather had not improved. As a matter of fact, the sleet was having a field day, so to speak.

Why I thought it a good idea to take the same (longer) road back to Old Orchard is beyond me, looking back…but we did make it home.

We’d asked Steve to come by for a drink and a nibble later that evening, and we had a lovely farewell get together. How I hated the thought of leaving, but apparently the weather had changed and wasn’t going to change back any time soon, a metaphorical parallel if ever there was one.

Again, we checked with The Kensington hotel to be sure that, if we were unable to fly home on Tuesday, we could stay there as long as was necessary. Then we looked to the British Airways site, and all seemed to be in order. Having done all we could on that score, we had an early night, packing up for the early morning leave-taking.

Monday, September 4…We both rose early as we had to be out of Old Orchard by 10AM – it was being taken over by the new tenants.

We cleaned out the fridge, cleaned up the kitchen, checked all the closets and tried to resecure the door key in the lock box. Of course, we needed the code, and once again, it was buried at the bottom of my luggage.

Always the way. But we found it.

We were to catch the train at Moreton-in-Marsh for Paddington, and Steve picked us up at 9:30 for the quick drive to the town. We really were so lucky in finding Steve – he took super good care of us, knew his way around everything…I can’t speak highly enough of him, and have offered room and board should he ever come to Texas!

So, we caught the train away from our beautiful Cotswolds, and it was on to Paddington. We’d tried to book seats but were unsuccessful…however, we’d no problem getting seats, so don’t know what the problem was re booking.

We disembarked at Paddington, once again on a quest for a restroom. David found out we needed 30 pence for the pleasure of getting inside! Honestly! He mustered up the change, however, and we were both relieved (so to speak).

After all that, we found a taxi and began a rather slow journey to The Kensington. On arrival, the taxi driver tried to inform us about using his taxi, cheap rates, signing up etc. until we finally had to assure him we’d do it all…once we were in the hotel. So we got into the hotel, then had a bit of a struggle with the room clerk (who was very nice) as to our stay.

We wanted to also check British Airways to see if our flight would take off on Tuesday; according to its website, all was in order and we finally decided to give it a rest and just believe it was going to happen. So we cancelled the extra nights we’d booked at The Kensington, and just went with the flow. We were both getting fed up constantly checking and re-checking!

After all this, David and I walked outside to find a restaurant where we could eat lunch. Rocca was perfect: a lovely little Italian restaurant right down the street where we decided to eat our combo lunch/dinner. We shared two orders of a really wonderful bruschetta…I hoped the pesto and garlic didn’t linger too strongly on our clothes!

David ordered Bucatini Pescatore, and I had a terrific Linguine with Roast Chicken. Yum-o!

David wanted to end our English sojourn with drinks in The Kensington’s bar, which was dim and cozy, very library-ish…so adorable. So after a brief rest, packing & unpacking, etc. we met to toast a really memorable time in England, and drink to civilized times and friends. We also had a lively chat about books we’d read and loved. Now how nice a way is that of completing the trip!

The next morning, we rose early to take advantage of The Kensington’s really remarkable breakfast – which was gratis, even though the website said otherwise; then hopped into a taxi kindly flagged down by the concierge, and it was on to Heathrow – no sooner had we gotten there and gone through the usual security etc., than our flight began boarding and we were on our way home.

 

And so…looking back, from the magical delights of Cornwall to the serene beauty of the Cotswolds, the fairy tale was real…at least, it was real for me. And long live the fairy tale – say I, a big believer in fairy tales….

A day in the country – the Cotswolds at its most beguiling – Chapter 6

A day in the country – the Cotswolds at its most beguiling – Chapter 6

Thursday, August 31…We woke to a morning filled with sun. Looking from my bedroom window over grass stippled with moving cloud images, I imagined myself living here, in the Cotswolds, embedded in this beautiful countryside.

Of course, I brought myself down to reality with the thought of winter, and rain, and cold…but even so, it would be England.

We had nothing on the agenda today but rambling around Broadway, and maybe a walk in the late afternoon.

Strolling along the, by now, well-known path from Old Orchard to Broadway, we were struck anew by the historic homes lining the road, with small paned windows and peaked gables, gardens filled with the flowers in season, old drystone walls…views across the road into the fields and hills, some ploughed, some green and glowing in the sunlight.

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Our first stop was for lunch at the Crown & Trumpet pub and inn, which is the pub closest to the house.

It’s cozy and very English, with a black and white cat acting as major domo, and laboring under the name “Fattas Cattas.” He joined us at table for lunch, nestling down on my backpack, after insisting on offering a paw to David (not crazy about cats)…

The food was, as usual, delicious, and the leek and potato soup was outstanding. Half pints were ordered. After which, I tried the apple/rhubarb crumble (a little dry but the custard helped.)

We left the pub and meandered into town, stopping at the Broadway Deli on the High Street for provisions – and they had some wonderful stuff; we were hard put to leave without buying out the store – the array of cheeses alone was impressive. Finally pulling ourselves away, we looked into and around the various small shops. David had wanted some lavender items for friends back home, but oddly enough, even with the lavender farm just down the road outside Snowshill, we could not find anything. We decided to have another look the next day.

On the way back to Old Orchard, as usual looking at everything and anything that crossed my path, I saw – to my delight – what looked like a conker. We were standing beneath a grand old chestnut tree, and the ground was covered in them. Naturally, I had to immediately break into verse:

Beneath the spreading chestnut tree

A village smithy stands

The smith, a mighty man is he

With large and sinewy hands

And the muscles on his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands.

ENGLAND 2017

David perhaps wasn’t amused to be asked to stand beneath the chestnut tree as I took photographs…especially when I burst into verse, as it were, but there you are! It seemed to fit!

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Then I gathered up a couple of conkers, and we wended our way home. The soft light and the beauty of the house and grounds immediately called for more photographs. I left David at the house, and went for a lovely short walk towards Snowshill.

These walks are full of the most appealing and intrinsically English images. St. Edburgha’s Church, a small Norman church standing in a field…

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A drystone wall …

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A sign for the Broadway Cricket Club…

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A footpath through the fields….

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A lonely tractor in a farrowed field…

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And more. The English countryside at its most iconic.

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When I returned to Old Orchard, we decided to settle in for the night with some old TV shows. Appropriately enough, the first one we found was “To the Manor Born”… Seemed appropriate, and it was still, after all these years, witty and clever.

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When I turned in for the night, I left the window ajar…the air was cool and sweet, and sleep came quickly. I was trying to live in the moment and not let this lovely journey pass me by casually and without acknowledgement. I’ll never forget this particular trip…and we still have four more days to come!

 

Stanton and Snowshill, The Cotswolds – Chapter 5

Stanton, The Cotswolds

Stanton and Snowshill, the Cotswolds – Chapter 5

Wednesday, August 30…The morning was one of those delightful easygoing and sunny mornings when nothing was immediate or demanding, and doing anything (or not doing anything) was a pleasure.

As usual, I wandered around the grounds of Old Orchard’s beautiful garden, picked some apples and plums in the orchard for Steve and myself, and sat on the bench in the back overlooking the green fields and ever-grazing sheep, just inhaling the fresh air.

We had booked Steve for a trip to Snowshill, and he had added Stanton as a first stop, so at 2:30 he picked us up.  (Advertising push here: Cotswold Executive Cabs – fabulous!)

About three miles from Broadway, the village of Stanton is absolutely delightful.

It only has a population of about 200! (Can I make it 201?) Overcast when we first arrived, the recalcitrant sun popped back out, to showcase the allure of the homes and surroundings.

Stanton has a High Street and a pub, The Mount, which for some reason (rare for us) we did not check out (next time!)

The houses, as is usual here, are built almost entirely of the butter-yellow Cotswold limestone, and a small street which we stopped to photograph wound downhill through the greenery.

Surrounded in part by woods…

village walls were ivy covered…a pansy grew from a stone…climbing roses bloomed…views of the rolling Cotswold hills were seen through a framework of old, old trees and houses… I walked around in a happy dream.

Our next stop was Snowshill Manor, an old manor house built by an eccentric gentleman by the name of Charles Wade.

Back garden of Snowshill Manor

He collected a very wide variety of objects, gadgets, art and thingamajigs from all over the world, and these were displayed throughout his house, rather willy-nilly. Some people find this creepy; I rather like the idea of this old gentleman gathering items from his travels whether they had any value or not and just because…

After all, what is England without eccentricity?

Snowshill Manor ivy covered wall

As I’d been here and toured the manor once before, I stuck to the gardens while David took a quick tour through the house.

The gardens had an end-of-the-season feel to them, but the old stonework of the walls, steps, buildings and so on was still lovely, the ivy-covered walls and ripening fruit really enchanting.

Garden seat at Snowshill Manor

We stopped for a quick cup of tea and a scone at the little teahouse

Snowshill Manor teahouse

then left to ramble onto Snowshill itself, which I’d been wanting to revisit since I first stepped toe onto Cotswold soil. The narrow road was hemmed by fields and woods on either side, and we stopped to take some photographs of the far-reaching hills and fields.

Walking from Snowshill Manor to Snowshill

By the time we got to Snowshill, the weather had turned and had become rather drippy and chilly. We found the Snowshill Arms – which I kept saying “is on the green” but I couldn’t find the green (as I remembered it.) However, we did finally find the pub, only to see that it didn’t open for another 30 minutes. We huddled shivering beneath the portico when the manager drove up and took pity on us, letting us in early, saying she “hoped we wouldn’t mind if she popped upstairs to do a couple of things.” We didn’t mind a bit, especially when she served us a couple of half pints while we waited to order our dinner. And my dinner was scrumptious, an English breakfast actually and the sausage was incredibly good. Loved it! (And my new favorite thing is IPAs…how did I not know about these before?)

A little later Steve joined us for a drink and then drove us home.

Being rather damp and chilled, the first thing that crossed my mind was a hot bath. My bedroom’s master suite held a clawfoot tube, and oh! It was wonderful to dive into the bubbles and get warm.

Clawfoot tub at Old Orchard

Despite the cooling air and wet weather, it was a lovely day, and I am thrilled to add Stanton to my list of English villages that encompass everything right about England. Long may they – and the beautiful English countryside – reign!

Exploring Chipping Campden, the Great Malverns, and Broadway

 

A view from a room, Chipping Campden

FRIDAY, August 31

8PM and dusk was falling – Kettle Cottage was quiet and I sat in the tiny living room with my feet up, the stove burning merrily away, eating fresh bread and butter with farmland tomatoes and tiny-leaved watercress. I heard the church bells from St. James pealing faintly across the Chipping Campden rooftops. I found a bottle containing two gulps of blended Scotch in a cupboard in the miniscule kitchen, and it went down a treat. Poirot was on the tube, and I settled in after my first full day back in the Cotswolds.

 

At Vegetable Matters

After an uneventful and surprisingly short flight on British Airways – with absolutely grim food – we landed in London an hour early. The weather was clear and cool – the sky blue glass. Steve met me once I’d skimmed through Security and Baggage Reclaim, and we were on our way on the back roads through the charming historic small villages of the Cotswolds. High hedgerows. Winding lanes.

As my stomach was banging against my backbone, Steve suggested we stop at a farm-to-market shop and café situated on rolling English farmland. Called Vegetable Matters, the produce displayed was incredible, and not only beautiful but delish. I had a full English breakfast, and Steve a bacon bap. Yum-o – and filling!

We sat in the sun under a sky so vividly blue it reminded me of driving on the highway to Taos in New Mexico, where the sky looks like it’s painted blue every day. Fields of bright yellow sunflowers spread out around us. A red tractor sat by the low building that housed the fruits and veggies, fresh breads and butters. I stocked up!

SATURDAY, September 1

I woke up really late after a rather unsettled night, so took my time getting a shower, coffee (which I had on the deck just outside the French door to my bedroom)and figuring out what I wanted to do with my day. The beautiful morning had drifted away, and I was low on food (surprisingly). I headed to the grocery store down the High Street, picked up supplies, and trotted to the chemist which – despite a sign saying Open 1-5 – was closed and stayed closed for the day.

 

I also realized, almost from the moment of stepping foot out of the alley doorway, that I didn’t have a clue which door I stepped out of !! I was so busy talking to the owner’s father (named Ham) about which key worked where, I completely forgot to look at the door closely until I was halfway down the High. So back I turned.My house is situated in a line of row houses, most of which are not numbered but named. I knew mine was called Kettle Cottage, but being blind as a bat when I start to panic, I couldn’t see anything that remotely resembled my house. I emailed, texted and called Steve and Joanna (the owner) who were, of course, nowhere to be found.

So I ran some errands, and by dint of peering in the windows of five or six houses I thought might be the one (and luckily saw no-one inside any), I finally recognized the cobbled walkway in my alley – inserted the key in the door, and it worked!

After that bit of palaver, I put everything away and left again, determined to walk around Chipping Campden.

A short step away from home led me into a small but intensely green park – the Ernest Wilson Memorial Garden. The trees and lawns were dappled with sunlight or in deep green shadow, and the garden held small benches and statuary.  These are the small pockets of loveliness found everywhere in the Cotswolds.

From there, I followed winding lanes around the outskirts of Chipping Campden which eventually led to a beautiful field. A woman, Sandra, was walking her three dogs – one an Afghan hound – who pointed out various footpaths and trails I could take. We walked together over the grass, dogs alternately galloping, sashaying or drifting. The day was sunny and warm. It was so restorative.

On the footpath, we met a likable couple living in an absolutely charming cottage who were beekeepers.

They also had dogs, so we were surrounded by a cloud of about five of them, frolicking freely.

After a nice chat, we all parted company and I wended my way back to the High Street.

The High Street is filled with delightful shops, pubs, inns, and teashops. After window shopping and a brisk stroll, I stopped in the Noel Arms for a half pint of Guinness (or two!) And after an interval on Facebook, I then actually found my way home – noticing at this point a black kettle hung above the door of my little enclave.  Ah well…. After a light supper and some English TV, I went to bed, listening to the church bells and thinking: I am in England for sure.

SUNDAY, September 2

Steve picked me up in his new Jag at 10am to drive to the Great Malverns. I was a bit of a mess, not having slept well, and – because there’s no shampoo at the house – was unable to wash my hair!

Nonetheless, once I got over it, we were on our merry way out of Chipping Campden to the Malverns. The GPS in the car then somehow directed us to a route unknown to Steve. I just enjoyed the ride, noting down the eccentric silly names of English villages we passed through, such as Wyre Piddle, Upton Snodsbury, and Sneachill. I also love the English road signs, with one of my favorites: Elderly People Crossing.

We were keeping our eyes out for the tallest Malvern (not so tall at 1300 feet) but we finally gave up on that, and parked at a café and pub Steve knew about at the base of the first hill we came to.

The day started off cloudy and windblown, but after a quick lunch at the pub – which included the de rigeur half pint – the sun re-emerged – and we enjoyed climbing the foothill on such a gorgeous sunny day.

The views were incredible! I should have hiked more than I did, as I only managed two and a half hours…

The breeze was fresh, the sun was shining, you could see for miles all around…stunning.

On our return, we tried to find Little Malvern – but that was a non-starter. So we just went with the flow. Steve stopped at a lovely little church on the way home, where we wandered through the beautifully kept graveyard, along the stone walls and over the green green grass, spiced with tree shadows from the late afternoon sun.

A quick stop to pick up shampoo and Elderberry/Peach Cordial at a village grocery, and I was home around 5 o’clock, ready to sit down with a cuppa, check emails, post some photos on Facebook…. I made myself a cheese and tomato sandwich which I washed down with the cordial – delish! Once again, I didn’t get to sleep until early morning, which is why I’m always so late getting started the next day!

MONDAY, September 3

Well, big relief…finally got to wash my hair! In order to see what I was doing – as there was one plug in my room – I pulled a large mirror from the wall and propped it on the windowsill near said plug. Worked like a charm!

Then I was out the door onto Chipping Campden’s High Street. When I booked my cottage, I specifically wished, on this visit, to stay in a village and be able to walk to shops, teashops, pubs, and grocer. I was situated on the far end of the High, which was close to fields and footpaths, the other direction leading into the town.

I wandered past houses and shops viewed in years past, loving to see that so much remained the same. Badger’s Hall, the old alms houses, the big willow tree over the square, the paned windows of the tiny pubs and inns…all as I had remembered them.

I turned on Sheep Street to see the iconic thatched cottage at its head that had so enchanted me and David last year. The stone dogs still kept watch, and the cottage itself is a throwback in time.

The back streets of Chipping Campden offer a wealth of magical views of ivy covered cottages,

 

 

farms and manor houses peering over gray drystone walls and through greenery…

red letter boxes embedded in stonework on street corners,

red and gold lichen-lined footpaths sheltered by huge oaks and chestnuts. some of which were so dense, they formed tunnels… Stepping into a storybook, everywhere you turned was a picture.

I finished my day by stopping at the Eight Bells pub, around the corner from my cottage. It was quiet for an hour, as I drank my IPA (half pint) and checked photos and emails. I finished up with fish and chips and once again wended my way home in the twilight.

TUESDAY, September 4

On the road again… About 10:30, Steve picked me up and we drove to Broadway (how I love this Cotswolds village!) in a slight mizzle. He dropped me at the Swan, where I hoped to have a bit of breakfast, but no such luck, as they didn’t offer breakfast during the week. I downed a latte, and since their WiFi wasn’t working, walked out onto the High to find a café that did serve a good English breakfast. Luckily, I beat the rush into Hunter’s teashop, ordered the half breakfast, and downloaded their WiFi which worked beautifully (I never thought I’d see the day when I’d say that!) Breakfast included: one sausage, two rashers of English bacon, scrambled eggs, fried tomato, toast and tea. And that’s a half ! Delish!

After which I hoofed it down the High trying to find an ATM. I find it alternately maddening and ridiculous that I am so caught up (while travelling) in the ways of the modern world when it comes to communication and money. Spending time trying to find somewhere I could access my cell phone and check emails, messages and FB. And then roaming the High Street in one of the loveliest towns in the Cotswolds looking for an ATM. Well, honestly.

I popped into a realtor’s office where its one occupant – while pleasant as could be – looked at me blankly when I asked her where I could find the nearest ATm. Leaving her to it, I next popped into an art gallery, apologetically asking the same question of a man who obviously knew I wasn’t in there to spend oodles of money on a painting! But, he was very nice and pointed me in the right direction –which, of course, was at the very opposite end of Broadway. I found the ATM next to Budgen’s…David and I stopped there many times last year, and I can’t believe I couldn’t remember that! Now I could call my life my own once again and get back on the byways and footpaths.

 

The first thing I wanted to do was walk the Snowshill Road from Broadway past Old Orchard, where David and I had stayed a year ago. The weather had cleared, and it was cool and fresh walking. Lovely!

I found Old Orchard and sighed as I looked through the gate at its fabulous grounds. Of everywhere I’ve ever stayed, this is one of the most beautiful places I’ve been in. The grass was green, smooth as paint and beautifully manicured as always by Mike, its gardener…the gravel drive was raked perfectly, and the trees drooped gracefully in late summer splendor.

Well, moving on.

I continued walking towards Snowshill, taking in – and photographing – a delightful row of apple trees covered with the red apples of autumn,

passing riders coming down the lane,

the glorious fields, farms and far vistas seen from the road,

the vine-covered houses and manors and small church with its graveyard, and the sign for the cricket club,

and the sheep nibbling the grass in the meadows.

A couple of hours later, I finally turned back towards Broadway when the lane became a little too twisty and narrow with no verge to leap onto when the Formula One drivers came tearing around the curves.

Just kidding about the Formula One drivers!

Back in Broadway, I decided I needed a cream tea, which the Lygon Arms thoughtfully provided: Two hot raisin scones, clotted cream and two sorts of jam, plus lemon verbena tea. Fourteen pounds including tip. Wonderful – although I could only eat one scone.

I texted Steve to let him know it would be between 4-5pm when ready to be picked up, and went on my merry way to find the Cotswolds Way. I had an hour.

Well, okay, so the Cotswolds Way is over 100 miles long. Maybe I can’t do it in an hour…but maybe a mile or two?

I did find one sign pointing me to one part of the Way through the fields, which I followed for about 45 minutes. When I finally came to the conclusion this was not the Cotswolds Way stretch that David and I had walked in 2017, I thought it the better part of valor to turn back and get a half pint – again, at the Lygon Arms.

 

Nice place!

 

Tina, Steve’s wife, picked me up at the accredited time and I was home shortly before 5. Lost my WiFi again…

 

It was a lovely day. I just keep eating and drinking my way around the Cotswolds! But as JFK said about accompanying Jackie to Paris: I have enjoyed it!

Next: The iconic small village ramble – stay tuned!

 

Exploring small Cotswolds villages – Chapter 4

Small Cotswolds villages – with our tour guide Steve – Chapter 4

Tuesday August 29…This is the day Steve, our tour guide, took us on a Cotswolds villages tour. It was a memorable day, among many…Steve is a terrific guide, and he had devised a splendid itinerary.

I had been hoping to see at least one park or garden designed by the wonderful landscape artist Lancelot “Capability” Brown.

Steve surprised us with a visit to his (Brown’s) first manor house and landscape, Croome Court.

Covering over 1,170 acres of manmade parkland situated between the Rivers Avon and Severn and close to Pershore, it was primarily marshland when Capability Brown was chosen by the 6th Earl of Coventry in 1751 to design both the park and the manor house.

Today, while apparently still unfinished, the grounds contain a church, lakes and islands, bridges, grottos, meandering pathways, beautiful trees and lush bushes.  The stonework is wonderful. Adding to the melancholy beauty of the estate, the sky was overcast, and it was damp and a little chilly.

As early sunlight burned through intermittent cloud cover, we drove through the gently sloping hills of the Cotswolds countryside, green and golden.

Passing through many small villages, we pulled over for a few minutes off the beaten path at Elmley Castle for photographs of the Tudor-style cottages and ivy clad shops and restaurants.

We then wended our way to the two Slaughters, which straddle the banks of the River Eye.

 

The Slaughters name is not as bloody as it sounds; in old English, it apparently means “muddy place”…possibly! Under the now lowering English sky, we saw the meandering river crossed by stone bridges, and the charming cottages surrounding it.

Here we ate lunch at the Old Mill, a tiny riverside café run by a friend of Steve’s.

The small outdoor bathrooms (well, outdoor in the sense of not being in the cafe) had low-lying doorframes, and apparently ignoring the sign saying “Watch your head,” I immediately bashed mine against the lintel – looking and feeling rather idiotic since there was quite an audience to my momentary lapse and crossed eyes.

I didn’t feel quite so bad when, on a return visit to said bathroom, a woman coming out immediately cracked her head against the overhead beam. We both stared at one another, while I muttered consoling words to the effect of “I was an idiot myself” – no, not really but whatever! (I think they need a bigger sign!)

After lunch, we ambled along the river, as the sky continued to darken, with scudding gray clouds a backdrop to the timeless English landscape.

We wandered down the river bank, crossed over small bridges, and basically enjoyed the foliage beginning to turn an autumn-y rust and red.

And then our next stop was Burford. David had remembered a special visit there in 1979, so that was next – it’s a charming town with a lovely long ascending high street, bustling with shoppers and tourists. (I was there in September 2007, not long after the great flood.) We found the church and graveyard.

There was a lot of reconstruction going on, but I managed to take pictures of him among the sarcophagi. Talk about a walk among the tombstones!

It was time to get back in the car, and Steve drove us through Bourton-on-the-Water (“very touristy” so we didn’t stop, and I had been there in 2006) to Minster Lovell. This is a village I have never heard of, and was a delightful, absolutely charming surprise.

The old grade A-listed church, St. Kenelm’s, dates back to 14th-15th century.

Behind the church were tall lacy ruins of what used to be a great manor house set in a wide green lawn alongside the river.

Children played on the grass. I loved it…it was beautifully peaceful, really a respite from the “other world” we normally inhabit.

The village was equally wonderful.

After which, Steve wanted to take us to the Cotswolds Woolen Weavers, a terrific woolen mill in the village of Filkins housed in an 18th century barn.

It is the last company in the area to implement the traditions of woolen cloth design and manufacture, according to the site on Google.

ENGLAND 2017 415

The wool was exquisite, with a soft satiny sheen.

I plunged my hand into a basket of raw sheep’s wool, and when I withdrew it, my hand was coated in lanolin…so soft!

(I was also taken by a soap called Old Goat – nothing to do with anyone I know – just an eccentric name with a wonderful scent!)

I wanted to buy everything I saw! Steve and David helped me to choose a coat out of many (hard!) and David bought a classy wool sweater. I had to be dragged out of there kicking and screaming (internally!) I could’ve furnished my house in Houston with the sofas, chairs, blankets, throws and accessories that were displayed against the old stone walls.

After Steve pushed me into the car, he drove us back to Broadway, dropping us off at the Broadway Hotel bar for dinner. David had two martinis; I had a Guinness, with an absolutely fabulous hamburger. Seriously, it was absolutely top notch. Then, replete (very) and relaxed (even more so), we walked back along the road to Old Orchard, happy campers we. And so ended the day of our lovely satisfying tour…thank you Steve…it was the best

The Cotswolds – Broadway, The Cotswolds Way and Chipping Campden – Chapter 3

The Cotswolds – Broadway, The Cotswolds Way and Chipping Campden – Chapter 3

Saturday August 26…Our first full day in the Cotswolds… and the weather here continues beautifully sunny, in a word, perfect! Once we got ourselves out of our respective beds at Old Orchard, and puttered around the house and the grounds (finding out that the toilet in the potting shed was Royal Doulton – talk about keeping up appearances!), we walked into Broadway.

The road from Old Orchard to Broadway was fairly narrow, often with little space to leap out of the way of cars whose drivers apparently thought they were auditioning for the Grand Prix…but we were none the worse for wear despite a few nettles getting in our way. And just looking at the old houses lining the road, or over hedgerows to fields that ranged far and wide was such pleasure, it was worth a little scramble or two.

We went for a lazy ramble along Broadway’s high street, stopping in the Swan for half a pint of the local IPA, called Ubu (don’t ask me why the name, but it was absolutely delicious) and some lunch (yummy as well).

I love the Swan…it is English to the core, and having a drink there is very enjoyable, as is people watching! One of the great things I noted in all these small Cotswolds towns – and other parts of England as well – is how welcome – and how well behaved – dogs are, in restaurants and pubs.  Dishes of water were set outside shops – no dog ever goes thirsty!

Broadway is a delightful English village, with a wide green, and not overrun, on this day, with tourists (such as ourselves!)

The flowers were in full bloom, and were brilliant – as that part of the street lined with pots of the most vivid red geraniums attested. We were fascinated by the architecture, which used mostly Cotswolds stone that gives off that buttery glow even when the sun isn’t shining. I don’t care if it is “tourist-y” – I love it!

Later in the afternoon we stopped for a cream tea at the Broadway inn and pub. David was not taken with the clotted cream, but we both loved the scones and jam…then it was back to the grocery for more Tin Loaf, and return to Old Orchard.

Time for evening cocktails! So we sat on the terrace in the rear of the house, looking out over the beautiful grounds with the running brook at the bottom of the garden, beyond to still green fields dotted with the white grazing sheep, and back still further into the setting sun. Well, I thought I’d died and gone to English heaven.

Sunday August 27… Today we decided to find the trailhead for the Cotswolds Way, on the other side of Broadway.

The Cotswolds Way is one of the oldest footpaths in England.

It was another gorgeously sunny day, and this part of the footpath was unshaded by trees along the actual trail, so by the time we managed close to a mile, we were rather warm.

We had packed a picnic lunch (hardboiled eggs and watercress sandwiches, cherry tomatoes, crisps, apples from the orchard)

so we found shade beneath some (I think) beech trees, and unpacked the feast. We sat on the grass, looking down into the green valley where Broadway lay, and all the fields and rolling hills around and beyond us. You felt you could just dance over the low-lying hills and fields like a dandelion head blown in the wind.

(Obviously not dancing here!) I pulled myself together, and walked over the crest of the hill behind us to see how far it was to the Broadway Tower. It was at least another mile away, and as I was unsure as to David’s desire to walk any further, we packed up and trotted back down to Broadway.

The Horse & Hounds pub came into view, and a half pint sounded perfect, so of course we stopped in to check out their local IPA, then found Lloyd’s Bank for some money, and after that, moved on to the Lygon Arms for the second half pint! After which, we walked to the end of the high street for dinner at a local Indian restaurant…the food was fabulous, but I was absolutely stuffed (no surprise there) and we brought half the meal back to Old Orchard with us.

Monday August 28…Today we spent a beautifully sunny (warm!) day in Chipping Campden.

Steve was busy with a tour, so he sent Roz to drive us there, she was really delightful. She dropped us off at our checkpoint (the willow tree in the town’s center), and told us she’d meet us there at 4PM.

We spent time in the beautiful, historic Church of St James, with its old, old carvings, stained glass and memorials, and wandered outside to take a walk amongst the ancient tombstones.

We had tea and scones in a hotel pub which we found down a narrow alleyway;

walked up Sheep Street to one of the loveliest thatched roofed cottages I’ve ever seen…

and, further down the road, noted a girl with purple hair; chatted with Peter, an American from Seattle; and had a Ploughman’s Lunch in a teashop.

People are so kind here. As we were wandering around the town square, a gentleman came up to us to tell us about a lovely little gallery exhibiting photographs and beautifully framed miniature paintings of Chipping Campden in all seasons. We had ten minutes to spare, so dashed inside, where I bought a framed print of a snowy winter’s day in the surrounding fields , which I loved.  Then we found a grocery store that was open (it was Bank Holiday) as we were in dire need of cheese and ale, and met Roz back at the willow tree. Chipping Campden is absolutely delightful…now I wonder if I can afford to live there?!