Orchard Lawns, our nice but discomforting Wixford B& B

The pretty row of half timbered houses opposite the B&B in Wixford.

The red brick bridge over the river Arrow at Wixford.

The red brick, half timbered, Broom Tavern.

Exiting this village the Way was flat and boring, across a series of arable fields, (yawn), then along a road towards Bidford on Avon. Turning left off this we cut along the edge of more flat arable fields, behind the back gardens of houses on our right and then along a small drive flanked by more suburban boringness, to eventually emerge on the small main street of the town, running alongside the River Avon. We stopped at the small Co-op store to buy provisions for a picnic lunch. There wasn't much to inspire us, but food is food I guess.

We set off across the river over the beautiful stone, many arched, bridge, for which Bidford is best known. Looking down the river from its parapet, Bidford looks much prettier than from its main street.

Looking down the River Avon from the bridge at Bidford.

The pretty, many arched, stone bridge at Bidford.

With a boat

Karen and the weir at the village of Barton.

At the end of the bridge we turned left across the fields and low meadows flanking the river and walked along to the next small village of Barton, where there is both a lock and a weir on the river. This is a pretty little village with a nice mixture of buildings, some timber framed, some brick, and our first Cotswold Stone type building. We went along to a craft shop and pottery that was open and then set off on our way again, taking a stoney track that gradually rose from the Avon. Many of the fields that we crossed on this high dome of land were bare and uncultivated, which seemed a shame. According to the guidebook they were used for fruit and veg cultivation predominantly. From this vantage point above the Avon behind us, the first hills of the Cotswolds, beyond the boring flatness of the Vale of Evesham ahead, VERY slowly got less hazy and less blue.

We stopped for a snack stop in the corner of a field that contained a recently dug pond with a handy bench placed by it. Hmmm on inspection of the guidebooks.. although we felt we were progressing at a good pace, we had not done as many of our huge 15 mile target as we had hoped. Not only this, but we were both already tired! Karen's blisters were hurting and my hips/top of legs had started to twinge a bit. Still, we weren't daunted yet, and the sun was shining beautifully, with a lovely cooling wind blowing.. perfect walking conditions. We were being much luckier than the forecast had previously suggested so far!

We set off again after our short rest. After more fields we joined a lane and turned right along this to eventually arrive in the sleepy and pleasant village of Dorsington. This was to be the last small highlight for some considerable time! From Dorsington the Way followed the line of the Noleham Brook all the way to Long Marston. The fields were flat as pancakes and largely empty or arable. Yawn, yawn, yawn.. not the sort of landscape you want to be trudging, through when you are tired anyway and still have more than half a days walk ahead of you! The only sight of import along this stretch was a huge, modern, brick built box of a mansion, of stately home proportions, but with none of the stateliness, and also, as we approached Long Marston, some very marked Mediaeval ridge and furrow fields, which although being very interesting were even MORE tiring to walk across than flatness would have been!

We eventually arrived at the main road through the village and went to sit outside the front of The Mason's Arms in the little beer garden. We had a couple of pints each, while eating our lunch and reflecting upon the way ahead, and how VERY tired we were feeling whilst not even being half way through our planned day yet! Hmmm!

Becoming more and more daunted we set off from Long Marston, crossing the main road and taking a lane that lead out of the village across an old railway line that has been turned into a cycle way. Beyond this was seemingly endless field paths. Coupled with this boring view, the airfield that we walked alongside for a long time had some sort of dragster or motor show on. Despite huge sound shielding walls around the stadium, the noise was deafening inshort bursts, repeatedly making us jump out of our skins! The first outlier of the Cotswolds, Meon Hill, stubbornly refused to look any closer, and was annoyingly boring looking, when the contours on the map had previously seemed to make it look quite dramatic and something of interest to look forward to!

Eventually we made it to Lower Quinton, which sits at the base of the hill. The Way does not go through the centre of this village and by this time we were too tired with too much further to go to be bothered with detours off route! I wanted, and needed some fluid, but the shop was annoyingly shut. So we trudged up the lane, a gradual incline to Upper Quinton, which sits on the low flanks of Meon Hill. This village seemed a little prettier than Lower Quinton, being a collection of varied buildings around a very large green, but…. by this point, trudging on was becoming more important than prettiness! We made our way around the flanks of Meon Hill, all the time looking back out over the boring flat Vale of Evesham to the very distant, but still visible Oversley Castle that stood prominently above our day's starting point…. the village of Wixford. Meon Hill is topped with the remains of an Iron Age fort and its summit stands at about 600 feet. I was glad I wasn't having to climb it, as by this point my hips were really starting to be very painful and Karen was hobbling along on her blisters singing odd lines of songs that she knew to raise her spirits. Maybe she was trying to torture me and my ears for putting her through all this! It was to become a familiar and amusing trait for the rest of the day and also the following day!

We eventually arrived at the next village of Mickleton after making our way through acres of smashed greenhouses, slowly being reclaimed by nature and her brambles and briars. The whole of the day's walking had seemed to paint a very bleak picture of farming in this area over recent years! The map guidebook seemed to show an absence of a pub in the village, which would have been very welcome, so we trudged around to the Church of St Lawrence.

St Lawrence's Church Mickleton from our well
earned rest bench!

It was actually a fairly pretty village and certainly our first traditional Cotswold style village, with for the first time, numerous mellow stone cottages. We sat on a bench overlooking the church for a good while, snacking and generally resting before the steepish climb ahead, out of the village and up onto the Cotswolds plateau itself.

After about half an hour's rest we DID actually feel slightly rejuvenated and set off. As soon as we started the climb my spirits certainly began to rise, VERY slightly again. Part of the reason the afternoon had been such a drudgery so far was the total lack of anything of interest to look at!! The base of Bakers Hill was parkland and we soon entered beautiful Beech woodland, carpetted with bluebells, clinging along its summit . The trees themselves were ancient and stately and between their trunks and leaves glimpses out across the plain below were beautiful! At last! Some beauty and interest to take our minds off the still growing pain!

And fabulous beech trees along its edge surrounded by carpets of bluebells...

... with glimpses of views out across the flat and boring Vale of Evesham through the freshly green leaves.

Sigh...even in my state I was impressed and slightly re-invigorated!

It was not too much of a trek to Chipping Campden thank goodness. We entered the village at its top end, near the beautiful large church of St James's. Unfortunately, our B&B for the night, The Volunteer Inn, turned out to be at the other end of the town in Lower High Street! After walking by the church and the beautiful gates of Campden House on the right and on the left the beautiful row of Almshouses we came to the first pub and ducked inside desperately for two drinks at once, one alcoholic and one not! The sun had shone all afternoon and we were both weary and very thirsty! Slightly recovered after about half an hour and liquid, we wandered down to, and then along, the beautiful High Street, right to the far end and our room for the night!

Sunlight coming through the dense horsechestnut leaves from a farm drive on the painful last approaches to Chipping Campden!

Gate house to Campden House, Chipping Campden.

Row of beautiful alms houses with the church behind.

The beautiful, mellow sandstone High Street of Chipping Campden.

The Market Hall, Chipping Campden.

The Pub didn't open until 7pm, but we went through the side door and got someone's attention and were shown to our room. After showering we hobbled out to find something to eat. The main criteria was not whether the food was good, but how close it was. It was not looking good! Karen was hobbling very badly on her blisters and my hips especially, but legs generally, were KILLING me. We ended up in a hotel almost opposite the pretty stone market hall in the main street. The bar man was appallingly slow and incompetent and we ordered our food not expecting to be very impressed. In reality… when it did eventually come it was ok.. starter of local game terrine with toast (supposedly brioche) and red onion marmalade. I was really rather weary and snappy all night and rather depressed because I didn't see how we could continue with the walk the next day with the state that both of us were in! We went back for one drink at our pub and then went to bed, pretty miserable!