From: Sapperton to Chedworth
Distance: 14m / 22.4km
Cumulated distance: 359m / 578km
Percentage completed: 34.9
At the end of yesterday’s walk, I jumped in a taxi and went home for the night. It was bliss to put everything from my rucksack straight into the washing machine, turn the dial to hot and leave it to wash itself. Washing out clothes in the bath at the various B&Bs has been ok but I’m sure nowhere near as effective as a deep Miele clean.
It felt kind of strange having the run of a whole house again. I have developed such a routine over the last month when I’ve reached my pub or B&B room, that I was flummoxed by the tv being in one room, the bath upstairs, the kettle being in the kitchen and sockets for my recharging all over the place. Just for the hell of it I changed into a really heavy sweater and jeans .. solely because I could! It felt nice but still a bit strange.
I always sleep with the curtains open and this morning it was the sun streaming through the window that woke me, rather than my alarm. What a joy! Looking around the garden there was much to prolong the feeling.
The tête-a-tête daffodils I planted a couple of years ago in memory of my Dad
Up close
Quenington flamingoes
Vacant birdbox with beautiful outlook
Resident family of warthogs
Mid-morning I packed my very clean bag and got another taxi back to the place I left off yesterday. I felt refreshed and so lucky to be on the journey.
The Bell at Sapperton
The tunnel at Sapperton was once the longest canal tunnel in Britain and was considered to be a fine feat of engineering, even attracting royal attention in the form of George III, who came to visit in 1784. It’s 2.1 miles long and its construction involved much legal wrangling, as to its size and height. While it was eventually built high enough that loads could continue to be carried on barges, there was no room for a towpath. This spawned a whole new profession .. legging. You’ve got it: two men would lie on a plank of wood, placed on top of the barge with their feet on opposite walls and then would side-step along the wall, to take the loaded vessel from one end of the tunnel to the other. Can you imagine the inner thighs!
Legging
I will confess to feeling a little nostalgic today .. I am skirting past the Thames Head, where the Thames Trail begins .. or ends, depending upon which way you look at it. If you like the idea of a shortish flat walk with tons of culture and history, this is the perfect one. There’s a link at the top of the page if you fancy getting a flavour for it from my previous blog.
The sun had been banished
As the day wore on, the clouds built up and eventually the sun was nowhere to be seen. The first few miles were across mostly flat terrain around the Bathurst Estate but then became undulating, even hilly. I cobbled together a route using the Macmillan Way and various tracks and lanes.
There have been treats along the way on this journey which have been food for the soul. Today, on Easter Sunday, I was lucky enough to follow a sign to the ‘Saxon Church at Duntisbourne Rouse’. The tiny lychgate with it’s crooked little gate was a clue as to what lay beyond.
St Michael’s Church, Duntisbourne Rouse
At the end of the narrow path and at the top of a perfect little valley, lay St Michael’s, a Saxon church dating to the 11th or 12th century. I sat for ages in the graveyard just contemplating how many years people had come through the lychgate to the church to worship. It was a sobering feeling. Many of the gravestones were so well covered in lychen that the dedications could no longer be deciphered.
St Michael’s
The tiny nave with round Saxon arch
The flower arrangers of the parish had clearly been busy for Easter.
Welcoming flowers in the porch ..
.. and inside in the nave
Wall paintings dating to the 13th century created using red ochre
There are small slit windows on the north and south sides. An inscription reads “THIS WAS BUILT BY JOHN HADEN MASON JOHN FREEMAN AND JOHN HOSKINS BEING WARDENS A.D. OI 1587”. The small, squat tower has an internal staircase leading to its two bells; one from the 14th century and one from the 15th century.
It may be clichéd but as I sat and contemplated both inside the little church and outside in its graveyard, I felt a palpable sense of the centuries and generations which had gone before me. I felt very small to know my insignificant place within the pages of history.
I felt reluctant to leave St Michael’s and I’m sure I’ll return in time. But I needed to get on and so retraced my steps back through the lychgate and past the adjacent Old Rectory. After crossing the ford I made a climb up one of the many hills of the day. In the woods I passed by a neighbourhood of homes burrowed into the ground. There were upwards of 15 little dwellings, all created close to one another in a very community-minded sort of way. Badgers, I thought. What do you reckon?
Who lives here?
Fifteen or so homes in the parish ..
Rendomb, not only home to the private school with a fabulous view, is also where the Aero Super Batics display team hang out. The team comprises half-lunatics who fly biplanes, first designed in the 30s, which have been updated with steel and plastic, to replace the wooden struts and fabric. Oh and yes, nowadays the engines are twice as powerful. And then there are the complete lunatics, who stand out on the top wing and perform acrobatics, while the plane loops and rolls and turns upside down.
Rencombe College
As the afternoon drew on it became colder. I pulled on an extra layer and put on my gloves. There were lots of fields to negotiate, many particularly stony. When my mum researched her family tree, she found that a great, great, great grandmother or aunt of ours endured a terrible life. She ended up destitute, her occupation marked on the census as ‘stone picker’. This essentially meant she spent her days, come rain or shine, picking up stones from fields, as an agricultural labourer. The image of her, broken-backed, cold and hopeless really haunted me this afternoon.
Unforgiving stony fields
I was jolted out of my contemplation by a field of bulls, which I needed to cross to get to Chedworth. I’m afraid I chickened out and instead of walking across the centre, I skirted around the perimeter. There was an unexpected bonus, however. A fallow deer appeared and for me, as a towny, I was enchanted by his white, ‘follow me’ tail’ and ability to stand stock still until I’d passed, I’m convinced he felt he was the winner in a game of ‘musical statues’.
My bed for the night is in Chedworth at Baldwin House, where I’ve received the warmest of welcomes. I’ve had a fabulous dinner with Swampy and Nigel, which included the most plentiful and delicious carrots and am now ready for the deepest of sleeps.
Black Dog Tails
This black lab and his canine colleagues were recently indispensible in assisting the fire brigade at Grenfell Tower, London.
Hi Jules, What great news that you could go home to sleep for a night and felt rejuvenated by it. I’m glad you picked up gloves and hope the weather starts to get better. Love Juliet
It was indeed a treat. Yesterday’s sun has quickly been replaced by rain today though! Ah .. the English climate! x
Hmmm, carrots! Nigel, Swampy, you really do know how to pull out all the epicurean stops and lavish decadent indulgencies on my poor, walked-into-the-ground esurient wife! Was the gruel all finished then??
Their largesse knew no bounds .. they’d even laid the table! Missed Claudia though ..
You do it down! They were divine organic roasted carrots, a symphony of orange with a sumptuous chicken and mushroom pie 🥧. I thought she could do with the vitamin A, Pottasium and B6 that comes with those little beauties! 🥕
Claudia, the entire meal was utterly divine! Thank you so much for pointing the Marsh boys in the right direction .. more than they did for me today, even with an Ordnance Survey map!! Delicious supper thank you! x
35% completed Jules!
Thank you Silvia .. and Happy Easter! Think it’s still Easter in Canada. x
Happy Easter to you too Jules. Your blog brings up all the memories for me as you are feeling as I felt about this walk and expressing those feelings so beautifully. It was 20 years yesterday since we set off. Sigh! Such an adventure, particularly for me as I had not camped much before. We did walk the Heart of England Way. It joined the end of Cotswold Way. It was a beautiful and somewhat gentle part of the journey. I loved the simplicity and beauty of St. Michael’s. Lovely too that you could go home for a night and wash everything. I know exactly how that would feel! xx
Extraordinary that you camped most every night, Marilyn! I just don’t know how you did that .. how did you cope with wet clothes? I feel my journey will be a wonderful memory to pull from in 20 years time, just as yours is. Congratulations isn’t quite the right word .. but I feel it’s apt. xx
Glad you were able to go home for a while before today’s long walk. Your description of a maternal ancestor doing such back breaking, unrelentingly hard work brought Tess of the D’Urbevilles to mind. Thomas Hardy described a similar scene , but not picking up stones, in his marvellous book. The grey, rain sodden sky in one or two of your photographs looked very ominous. Absolutely love those three marvellous dogs with their excellent protective booties . How brave they must have been, along with the firemen during that awful time. I think of you and remember you in my prayers every day. Keep safe. xx
Yes, she would have been alive at just that time. Very good call to imagine her in a Hardy novel. xx
I have often wondered about those stone walls Jules, presuming them to have been built as part of a farming year’s rhythm- clearing a little more land of stone for stock, and creating fences in the process – but to hear of it as the job of destitute women triggers a familiar sadness; another story of exploitation. So glad she got a mention and walked with you a while.
When you read the census’ of her time there were many ‘agricultural labourers’. I guess the Industrial Revolution swept away those sorts of jobs and took people into the towns and cities.
What a memorable Easter Sunday! Such a gorgeous church ….Rock of Ages I’m thinking. Saxon churches are exquisite – solid, calm and peaceful – just what faith should be! Bit of an upheaval to visit home I expect, but so useful! Supper with the boys would have recalibrated you! Lots of love xx
Perfect description of Saxon churches, Frannie. They are such gems. xx
Jules , just got back from our (long hot) Easter Monday walk and rejoiced in having your blog to read whilst eating my lunch. I particularly liked your photos of St Michael’s church , so serene , felt I was there and found the flower arrangements with primroses , winter roses and moss so divine because of their simplicity. You must feel you have wings after this spiritual pitstop at St Michael’s and fresh clean clothes from home , but that cleaning and purifying is the true meaning of Easter , isn’t it ?
The digging creatures in the forest must be badgers I thought because moles prefer fields , don’t they ? and those holes are too big for hares … am sure you will give us the answer xox
St Michael’s has created a memory to be treasured. Felt special to be there at Easter too. Yes, I thought badgers .. I don’t know for sure but hoping there’ll be a response from readers. xx
Badgers tend to make a mess around their holes so my guess would be hares, but little knowledge of this subject xx
Not too much mess around the holes but can I imagine hares need this much head room for their long ears! xx
I too found the Saxon church – from my journal – 1st June 2015:
“Further on I met a guy in his seventies walking three springer spaniels and a small terrier. He had a small van with a sliding side door for them to hop into, which they did very obediently – I reckon that wasn’t his only car! He could have walked off the set as James Mason in The Shooting Party, fully rigged in outdoor country gear, and with that soft, husky, quiet civilised, understated voice emanating authority, and English reserve. He asked me where I was from and when I said Arnside he said “yes, I went to school there” which puzzled me because thee is no school in Arnside – it turned out his almer mater was Sedbergh. He was anxious for me to visit the Saxon church a hundred yards away which I did and sat in the porch eating the second instalment of my cheese and chutney sandwich breakfast.”
Sedbergh is a public school in the Yorkshire Dales miles away from Arnside.
Looks like you came across some very industrious badgers- it’s amazing how much stuff they can shift.
Glad to see that your attack of the blues a few days ago had left you next day – now you’ve got that in the memory bank it will help if it happens again, but hopefully it wont.
Loved your diary entry about the James Mason look-alike. I hope you enjoyed the Saxon church as much as I did. You’re right about past experiences helping you cope when the same thing reoccurs.
Hi Jules, keep up the progress.. a third way through is worth recognition… yes!!! reading your daily updates but commenting sparsely as the days end would be chill out and rest I’m sure. Expect to hear from me again at the two thirds point. Phil