Bath

Bath, a city with many attractions, was a great place to end the walk. There is the famous circus, not as in clowns and lions and tigers, but as in a series of attached row houses arranged in a semi circle. It was, in its day, apparently, a good address to have, and maybe it still is:






What would Bath be without the baths?  Not only are the baths not used, there are signs warning not to even put your hand in the water!





All sorts of people used the baths, even the soldiers:





There are lots of museums. This is the dining room in a Georgian house. No photography was allowed, but, not knowing, Wendy caught this shot:





Ahhh, see the chimneys? Well, the guide on our walking tour told us that the citizens were taxed according to the number of windows they had. If two windows were very close together, they counted as one window, so the lucky owner payed less taxes. Neither Wendy nor I could understand why they didn't just count chimneys. (Maybe the TV antennas got in the way?)







The city boasts many fine candy shops:






and choosing can be difficult:





This is—so they say—the oldest house in Bath. It is where Sally Lunn baked her buns:







Of course, we had to visit the very kitchen wherein the buns were baked:






And there she is, hard at work:






The fashion museum was lots of fun. In one section, you can try on clothes, boys, girls, men and women.

You would not believe how heavy a victorian crinoline is.






But it does make the dress look grand!





In the main square, in front of the Abbey, there is entertainment all day, mostly musicians of one sort or another, from opera singers to......







The good citizens of Bath are very proud that Jane Austin spent a couple of years in their fair town:







Behold the famous Abbey:






If you want to climb 220 steps, you get to see the bell structures and the clock:






I have no idea what, exactly this is, but take my word for it, it has to do either with the clock or the bells, most likely the clock:






Then you see the city from way high up:






The official end, or beginning, to the Cotswald Way is at the Abbey, although, at the moment, there is no plaque announcing that. One is promised for September:





It was something of an achievement to walk the whole Cotswald Way, but golly, gee, it wasn't exactly worthy of Her Majesty's congratulations!






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Tormarton to BATH!

Last night's lodgings were pretty basic, to say the least, but sometimes shelter from the rain is enough. The final stretch was fifteen miles by one account, sixteen by another, but it turned out to be 20.52, which is a lot of miles, in case you want to know.

Mr. snail had a good breakfast and is enjoying the early morning wetness:









Too bad that I did not learn how to use the zoom until we were in Bath because a close-up of the grass, studded with large dew drops is beautiful. Do enlarge the shot to get the effect:







A friend emerged to join the trek:







A hen and her chicks:





Once in a while, one is reminded of civilization:







Then it is back to fields and sky:







We saw lots of this. Oats? Barley? Wheat? (Probably not wheat, but what do I know?)






A break from the rain in a field of the grain (as shown above):







Some of the dry stone walls have fallen into disrepair. What a pity. They are so much more beautiful than barbed wire:









A bower of roses:






What an enticing place for a nap and a snack:







This here stone pig does guard duty. He certainly has that je ne sais quois:








I wonder what happens when the lorries and coaches ring that number. After all, in case of a flat, there are lots of spare tires right there:






By and by we arrived at—are you ready for this—Pennsylvania. The guide book said that at Pennsylvania there was a gas station. The book was right about that. There was not one other thing!






We were so looking forward to getting to Cold Ashton, some eight miles along, where we had planned to partake of refreshment. But AGAIN, as at Ferrybridge, the oasis turned out to be an abandoned watering hole. How disappointing!








Then we missed a sign, which is really easy to do, especially when it seems sensible to continue straight along what looks to be a major path. Not only did that error add a mile to an already very long day, it took us a difficult spot. There was a choice: either cross a cattle grid with nothing to hold on to (which Wendy did since her boots spanned two rungs) or go through a horrendously muddy patch, which I did, with the following result:







For some creatures, however, the mud poses no problem:






When we realized our error, we had to renavigate said awful mess. Why I did not think of this way of getting across the first time, I do not know:







We trudged through the fields where the Battle of Lansdown was fought in 1643. It seems that the people fighting the battle did not have much idea why they were so engaged at the moment, but one must do one's duty, so fight they did. (FYI, the account is worth reading.)








As a memorial to the battle, these fancy orange metal standards were erected to mark the Cotswald Way for a bit:







When you are having a V E R Y long day, it may be best to leave your house behind:







We walked from 8:20 a.m. until 7:45 p.m. with just a few short breaks, doffing and donning the rain gear all day, as has become the custom. Finally, muddy, very muddy, and weary, we arrived at our lovely inn in Bath, home for the next three nights. It was almost an embarrassment to show up so un-respectable looking, but our hosts could not have been nicer. They took our muddy gators and rain pants for washing, and offered to drive us to a local restaurant for dinner. But we pleaded for cereal, fruit, and milk instead, which they supplied in abundance. It was a welcoming and happy conclusion to a beautiful, beautiful walk.








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Wotton-Under-Edge to Tormarton

First, a last glance at Tetbury with a shot of this attractive shop:





Of all the exquisite things we saw in the antique shops in Tetbury, one stands out for the way it so precisely represents a way of life gone by. It was a set of four miniature silver dogs, each a different breed, perfectly rendered, their purpose being to hold a menu card (hand written, of course) at dinner parties. Oh--the price for the set--almost 2000 pounds!

Not quite so elegant was this metal plaque in the B and B. Now, why would anyone go to so much trouble to record that?





Another house, typical of the style in the Cotswalds:






Tormarton, our stop for the night, was the penultimate destination of the walk, a fourteen mile stretch. In reality, it was sixteen plus, and not easy walking, either, so we got onto the path at 8:20.

Our friend, Mr. Snail, got an early start, too:




You can see that the path is still very muddy, but at least there are still signs. Wait! Does the one on that wee post have the acorn?





Uh oh, disaster along the way! Guess we'll have to convert to a relay:






A pretty field:







And a stunning sky:






What seems to be Queen Anne's Lace in different colours:






There were dramatic woodlands, too. The base of this trunk looks like gigantic toes, don't you think? (At least it did in real life.)








A slice of a majestic tree:





One of many gorgeous views:




Every creature needs to be considered in the scheme of things, does it not:






Moving along is such hard work, especially the up-hills:






But eventually, one gets to the B and B, even in the pouring, pouring rain:





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