The Cotswolds Way

Below is my story about the time I attempted to complete The Cotswolds Way alone.

The night before I was due to start, I started to realize what I had actually set myself up to do. Often times with personal challenges like this, I will tell a variety of people in my life so that when the doubt starts to set in, I can’t back out. This was one of those experiences, and the doubts were starting to set in, but I couldn’t back out. Shit.

 

Day 1

 

I was supposed to catch the 8:55 bus to Chipping Campden from Cheltenham, but instead I was sat in Boston Tea Party munching on a veggie boss, telling myself that I needed a hearty breakfast before I start but actually just trying to pluck up the courage to jump on that bus and start the adventure. That first step out of my house was the hardest by far, I felt a physical block as I stepped out into the world for (hopefully) 6 days. My first set back began once I had finished my breakfast, where I found out the next bus didn’t leave Cheltenham until 11:20, and wouldn’t get me there until just before 1. Not to worry, it was a beautiful day and I had high hopes. I reached Chipping Campden, which is a beautiful town surrounded by luscious greenery, and set off… in the wrong direction… twice. Finally, I made it out of the town and started along the way. It was absolutely incredible. I remember trying to evaluate if I felt scared or not, and I didn’t one bit, it was sunny, the walk was beautiful, and everyone I had met along the way had friendly faces. Life was good.

I reached Broadway as I started to get hungry, and opted for a cheaper, quicker lunch from Budgens which I carried with me up the hill looking for a suitable tree to sit under in the shade. As I climbed, sandwich in hand, I reached some farmland, where the signs told me to turn left. I walked about 1km along this dirt path before the signs seemed to run out. I was faced with a run-down farm/warehouse that looked like the beginning of a horror movie, so I decided that it couldn’t possibly be the Cotswolds way, and instead took a left through a purple field full of buzzing wasps. “You’re almost there, you’re almost there” I kept telling myself as I walked through. Miraculously, I came out un-stung, and stumbled upon the perfect tree, with the perfect patch of green grass overlooking the rolling Cotswolds hills.

I recorded a quick voice message to my family and ate my lunch feeling content. Now, it was getting to about 4:30, and I needed to figure out my plan. I checked out the map, realized I was definitely off route, but thought I could figure out how to cut through to get back on my way without going back through the field of wasps. After about an hour of trekking up and down the hills in the boiling sun, I chose to cut my losses and go back to where I knew I had last seen the Cotswolds way sign. Now, I was back at the beginning of the 1km dirt road and set off again in the hopes that something would change. Luckily, I bumped into a fellow hiker, and I asked her for directions. It turns out, I had to go through the run-down farm, past some lorries, and then I would be back on track. Great. I worked my way along, went through the warehouse that seemed eerily quiet bar the occasional bark from a (stray?) dog.

Now, I was back on track but about 2 hours behind schedule, and I was starting to feel exhausted from the heat. I crossed fields with sheep, cows, and horses, fields full of wheat, flowers, or nothing but grass, and I was feeling fully in the swing of things. At a section of the way that felt the most under-kept, where the gates were stiff from under-use and the trail had almost been covered by the weeds growing either side, I came across a big sign. “Warning! Bull in the field.” Fuck. I weighed my options, straining around the hedge to try and see this bull. I decided to try and avoid this field at all costs and tried scrambling by the edge of it. I could get to about halfway across the field until the land became bushes of stinging nettles, so decided to turn back, and take my chances with the bull. I kept close to the hedge and walked quickly and quietly to the other side. “You’re almost there, you’re almost there” I found myself saying for the second time today.

Now that I was away from the fear from the bull, a new fear started creeping in.. I was running out of water, my phone was all but dead, and the sun was starting to set. I sped up, trying to get to Winchcombe as quickly as I could, all the time thinking about what I was going to do in terms of sleeping that night. After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the town and went straight to the co-op to buy a liter of chocolate milk, and two liters of water. I was parched. Sitting on the side of the road, now in the pitch-black, I weighed out my options. I could continue along the Cotswolds way, and try and find somewhere to camp, or I continue along the road to Cheltenham and go to bed, which would likely take me about 4 hours, or I make the ego-crushing decision to call for help. I decided to try and find somewhere close to camp, I figured my tiredness would help me sleep even if I was scared. I was wrong, a few steps into the darkness and I knew this was a bad idea, it didn’t feel right. Cheltenham it was, and I would walk along the main road. After crossing the town in the direction of Cheltenham, I realized that this country road had no footpath, and it only took one car to come whizzing past at double the speed limit to realize that this, also, was a terrible idea.

Then, I saw a sign to an area I had camped before, and it was only 1 mile away! Perfect. Except again, I was forced into the pitch black. Nope nope nope, this was a bad idea. I headed back to the local pub for a pint. As I walked up to this pub, I felt oddly nervous and foreign. As I walked into a room full of smoke, beer, and old men, I realized why. They all looked at me, silent, clearly thinking “who the actual hell is this?.” I ran upstairs to the washroom, and on my way out noticed a doorway to a lounge, which was much less rowdy, had a bar, and a free table with a plug right next to it! I couldn’t believe my luck. I sat down with an IPA, and charged my phone, and called for help. I felt disappointed, scared, and ashamed that I hadn’t been able to do it. I had a lecture on the way back about how I shouldn’t do this sort of thing alone and then snuggled up into bed feeling absolutely wrecked.

 

Day 2

 

I woke up not knowing if I would continue or not, but as soon as I hopped out of bed I knew I had to. I had a big bowl of muesli as I listened to my housemate tell me all the reasons I shouldn’t do it, and then headed out feeling even more determined. I was heading to Leckhampton hill and was happy to realize I had missed the turning and stumbled upon the Cotswolds way anyway, cutting out a chunk of the way that I had already completed before on smaller hikes. I spotted signs to a café and headed there, already hungry from my walk up the hill. As I sat and enjoyed my breakfast, I made the decision that this trip no longer was about me making it to Bath, but rather about staying safe and actually enjoying my time in the beautiful countryside. I walked off, feeling full and content, with some good wishes from the waitress at the café, and three liters of water in my bag.

Already I felt more comfortable than I did the day before, knowing that whatever happened I could work through it and come out stronger. At about 2pm I found a big field overlooking Gloucester, and drank my Lucozade and enjoyed the views. I felt better, more prepared, and ready for my first time camping. I was on track to reach Painswick at about 6:30pm and knew that once I had stocked up on food and water I had to find a place to sleep before it got too dark. 7:30pm was my strict deadline. As I stumbled around the town looking for a shop, a woman and child noticed me and asked me if I needed help. Feeling super city, I asked her “Is there a grocery store around here?” somehow, I sounded more American than usual. She chuckled. “This is Painswick, but there is one shop around here that will sell some snacks? Are you camping, dear?” I said yes, that was my plan, and she told me about an old Quakers house just a few hundred yards around the corner that had a flat piece of land and a cockerel that went “cocka-doodle-bleh” that I could easily sleep in, provided I was gone before the 10:30am morning meeting. She and her 8-year-old daughter told this story together and seemed very excited about helping me about this house. I said thanks but felt wary about a stranger knowing where I was going to sleep, so set off further along the way.

All I wanted to do at this point was stop at a warm, local pub, have a pint of beer and a big stew with rice. Instead, I felt stressed about finding a field that had some light from the town, a nice view, and no cows in it. Un-surprisingly, that was hard in the countryside. At about 7:15, I made my way back into Painswick town center and found the public toilets. I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself “now is a moment where you can decide if you have faith in strangers.” I decided I didn’t have any other choice. I looked for this Quaker’s house. I found it, and it was beautiful, and just as she said, next door was a Cockerel. This would be it, I guess, and I started getting ready for bed.

At first, I felt nervous, every sound made me jump, I was worried that an animal might get me, bugs might crawl in my sleeping bag, or a person would tell me to move. This only got worse as it got darker. A cat walked into the garden and stared at me with his intense, yellow eyes. I hate cats. Then a hose came on, and I almost jumped out of my skin. I peaked out of my bivy and saw a guy watering his plants. Just a normal, young, guy. Then I saw his girlfriend in the house, washing up some dishes. Just a normal, young, woman. All of a sudden I wasn’t scared anymore. Seeing them, somehow, allowed me to relax, everything felt normal again. I got out of my bivvy and stretched, watched the stars, admired the view, and then slowly started to doze off. As I lay falling asleep, I made the decision that I would not camp alone anymore. I had been lucky today, but tomorrow it may not be that way, and the stress was ruining the experience for me. That thought made me feel happy, and I fell into a deep slumber.

 

Day 3

 

I woke up at 5am to the Cockerel that the woman and child had told me about. They were not wrong about the noise it made, and I couldn’t help but smile. I actually made it a night camping by myself, all my stuff was still intact, and the view was absolutely incredible. I slowly packed up my stuff, put on some clean clothes, brushed my teeth, and sat on the bench for a moment of reflection and to think about my next move. My phone was dying (as usual) but I had some food and water with me so decided to move on from Painswick and continue along the way to Stroud, where I knew I could get a bus back home. Now, this is where the real adventure started. I was tired, in pain, and really feeling the 65km I had already walked the prior two days.

I walked slowly and methodically, telling myself that this was supposed to be fun, and I had all day to get home so I didn’t need to rush. I came across some beacons, and sat for a moment to situate myself.

After looking at the map, I realized I could actually see Stroud, and if I could just cut across I would get there much sooner than following the way. Being naïve to farmland, I set out away from the designated path and in the direction of Stroud. I came down a steep hill, and then reached a fence with a warning sign. Initially, I thought it was a similar one to the sign about bulls from day 1, in which case I would have turned around, but instead it was about lambing season, and warning walkers to keep their dogs on a lead. Pah! Sheep! A walk in the park. As I continued down this steep hill past the sheep, I noticed some cows in the distance. Okay, slightly more worried now as I had researched cows and they can stampede, but they were a reasonable distance away so I kept going.

Then, I saw a single bull amongst the crowd. No way, I am not risking it like I did on day 1. I quickly turned away from the cows (and Stroud) and head along a tractor path. My logic was, the tractor path must eventually lead to a road, so I continued. After about 800m walking through a field, I could see the other side, and it lead into another field. Dammit. I was too far along to turn back now, plus there was a bull behind me, so I continued hoping that the next field would reach a road. I entered the field through the large gate, and spotted an exit into what looked like a dirt road. Heading towards that, now down the steep hill again, I glanced to my left and saw 8 bulls munching on grass. As I looked, and maybe because I swore at myself quite loudly, they all looked up at me. In a moment of panic, forgetting everything that the wiki-how article had taught me the night before my trip about not running away from bulls, I ran down the hill cursing and scrambling. I snuck a glance once I was by the fence, and to my absolute relief the bulls had decided to continue eating and forget about me. My heart was pounding, and all my fatigue and pain seemed to be gone from the rush of adrenaline. I still wasn’t at a road, this had just taken me into another field, so I continued jogging along towards a farm-house looking structure. Again, my logic being, there must be road to that house. This third field took me on a loop around to the original field I had tried to avoid, with the single bull, but this section of it was full of sheep. As I walked through, heading for the house, the sheep moved away from me and I felt like a full on shepherd for a second. Then, one brave sheep decided to walk towards me, probably curious as to what I was doing all the way in the middle of nowhere. Like any crazy person who had just risked their life through a bull-ridden field and was lost in the middle of the British countryside after having grown up in major cities, I started shouting and swearing at the sheep. “Please just leave me alone I actually cannot deal with this right now.” Wow, I actually stood for a second and self-reflected on the level of white-girl I must look.

Once I had gotten rid of this sheep, I saw the bull again, luckily it was walking away from the direction I wanted to go. For the third time this trip, I kept repeating “you’re almost there, you’re almost there.” After what seemed like a day and a half, I reached the farmhouse and was so relieved to be on a road again and away from animals. Just as I started to relax, a big Dalmatian ran up to me barking and baring its teeth. “It’s okay, I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” I told him as I looked around for any sign of human life. Luckily, this dog was just guarding and wasn’t aggressive, and I continued along the road. As the adrenaline started to fade away and the pain from my blisters and muscles started to creep back in, I heard a car coming from behind me. I stepped aside to let them pass, but it slowed down to a stop beside me. An elderly lady rolled her window down and asked me if I needed a lift to Stonehouse. I wanted to hug her, kiss her, scream hallelujah, but instead, I politely responded if she would be so kind I would love a lift and quickly hopped in before she changed her mind. After a nice air-conditioned ride down the hill, I thanked her and went back out into the world. I asked a man passing by if there was a café or anything around here. He pointed me in the direction of a small café but told me it was likely closed as it was Sunday morning and this was, after all, Stonehouse. He was right, it was closed, so I continued walking in the direction of Stroud, not really knowing how long it would take. I found the canal, which ran along to Stroud, and started to feel better.

I was exhausted and hungry, but I was on the final stretch and it was another beautiful, beautiful day. I probably stopped about 4 times along this canal, resting and drinking water, before I saw a coffee and wine bar about 100m ahead. I have never in my life been so relieved to see an overpriced café. I burst into the air-conditioned room, huffing and puffing, as a couple of well-dressed groups looked up from their smoked salmon brunches much like the men in the pub on day 1. I didn’t care, I wanted coffee and a massive calorie full breakfast. Ordering, and finding a place to sit and charge my phone, I relaxed into the day. After 1.5 hours of pure chilling, I decided to have a pint, as it was now past midday, and I sat outside sipping and relaxing. What an adventure. I walked the final 15 minutes to the bus stop and waited for the bus to take me back home.

 

In the grand scheme of things, this trip was an absolute failure, I only made it about halfway and I had to get driven home one night, but I felt so happy, proud, and excited about what I had just achieved. This trip wasn’t about the distance traveled, the Instagram post saying I’ve made it, or even the call to my mum to tell her I’m safe, it was about getting out there, doing something that made me scared, and enjoying my time in the beautiful place I called home for 6 months, The Cotswolds.