Cotswold Way | www.Farm-Finds.com

I didn’t want any grass to grow under my feet, so as soon as I got settled at the hotel, I prepared for the walk to the Broadway Tower, a curious landmark and the second highest point in the Cotswolds.

*Photo by Newton 2, cropped by Yummifruit*

I quickly settled in at Lygon Arms which feels welcoming like a sweet, aristocratic ancestor. After all, there has been some kind of hostelry here for 1,000 years. In contrast to many open air, high ceilinged American hotels , the Lygon Arms has cozy, dark nooks and crannies, its floors with dips and stone floors smoothed by centuries of feet. I counted four wood fireplaces set in each sitting area, furnished with comfortable leather chairs, in conversational groups.

It also features wonderful green squares, like little parks which are just blooming with delicate blue and yellow flowers.

My room is situated as an attached cottage on the green, decked out with all the necessary modern conveniences, including–most important to me– a teapot, tea, shortbread cookies and plush robes. It has a sporty, masculine style, with brown tweed and plaid accents, two dog portraits and heavy furniture that looks like it might have belonged to King Charles I.

I grabbed a cookie and donned my water repellent jacket and pants, just in case.

Before I could take 20 steps outside, I noticed a woman washing off big boots in a boot-washing stand, with sprays and brushes to remove dirt and mud, caked on the soles like thick chocolate icing piled on a cake. She’d just come from a walk to the tower. “Very muddy out there,” she said. “You can get some boots from the hotel reception area.” This was the best advice of the day. I would have slipped into a puddle without those boots.

I’m never afraid to ask my fellow travellers, who offer better on-the-spot tips than any guidebook.

Walking in the mud is fun in Wellies

A receptionist at the reservation desk found boots my size from a collection offered to guests. Pulling on the wellies,as they are called, I felt ready to tackle mountains of mud and prospective rain that is always a factor in England. These solid rubber boots give you the childhood thrill of splashing directly in mud puddles. The receptionist gave me a map and pointed me in the right direction, down High Street, turn left. Off I trudged, window shopping at the art galleries and glitzy country shops (selling Wellington boots as well as walking gear) as I go. Soon there was an opening on the right, lined in 5-foot high hedges. I asked a sweet older woman with a Labrador in the path which way to the Tower.

Oh yes, straight that way, through the kissing gate, go diagonal that way and follow where the grass is tromped down, she said. (I need affirmation; she was friendly and encouraging though I had no idea what a kissing gate was. I have since gone through a few; they provide a way to go through the gate without letting the animals out.)

In minutes, I found myself in the middle of the prettiest landscape, like a John Constable painting. Greens and wheat colors flowed down and up, lined by hedges and stone fences.

Sheep–the main source of wealth and wool for the area in the past

View from the top. On clear days you can see all the way to Wales.

I walked a long time, with the hills growing steeper and the sky growing darker. I didn’t see the tower anywhere, no signs either, and no fellow travelers. I breathed deep and kept admiring the pristine landscape. For a tourist spot so prominent, it was totally unspoiled-without a gum wrapper or any trash, allowing unadulterated enjoyment of the land. I could see the village below, so small I could hold it in my hand.

Another walker came by to reassure me. “Yes, it’s up there just about 15 more minutes. It’s situated sort of in a hollow.”

I couldn’t give up! Finally, there were steps that led up to the tower, just as a light rain began to fall. I made it! The tower was all I had wanted to see. Tall, impressive, fun. And I had to turn around quickly as it was getting dark and rainy.

A couple with a husky appeared from the other direction. I asked them to take my picture. I reciprocated. They had been walking four hours from Chipping Camden and wondered where Broadway was. I was able to point them in the right direction and pretty soon we bonded as the rain drizzled. Their names were Suzanne and Eric.

Fellow travellers joined me at the Tower

The couple were the idyllic image; they had just moved to a little cottage in a little village where they worked remotely in wood crafts. Aurora, the husky, was lunging after the sheep, which she wanted to eat. There must have been 20 little lambs cavorting across one field, as the mother sheep baaed in panic.

Rain! I was grateful to come back to the hotel. I told the couple I am so thankful to meet such good, solid company. Suzanne hugged me. They departed for 2 miles further to their village and I went in to the hotel for a shower, dinner and a good sleep.

The walk was really a special accomplishment. Later I found out that the tower is accessible through car, or at least within a few yards on the other side. It has a cafe that sells afternoon tea and Prosecco. For me, having struggled up the hills to the Tower, the commercialization slightly spoiled the lonely image of this limestone oddity in the rain, the design of James Wyatt who built it in 1784 for Lady Coventry. The lady wanted to light the three story tower up for all the people of the Cotswolds to see. And there it still stands for travellers to admire the sheer beauty and folly of it.

*At Paddington Station in London, feeling lost like Paddington Bear*.

After a break for the winter doldrums, I’m relaunching Farm-finds with a trip to the Cotswolds, the heart of the beautiful English countryside. I came to London for a family wedding and figured I would take off a few days to walk a part of the Cotswold Way, a 102-mile walking trail, the main route between Bath and Chipping Camden for the last 500 years. Thousands of hikers tackle the whole trail, which has become one of the most popular in England.

I am just doing segments. My base will be Broadway which couldn’t be further from the NY Broadway. A honey-colored village without neon lights or billboards. I rode the Western Rail line from Paddington station to Moreton-in-Marsh (pronounced Morton and Marsh) for an hour and a half. The names of the villages –Bird Lip, Dursley, Chipping Camden–ring like places plucked from Harry Potter. Getting deeper into the country, I had to catch the bus from Moreton-in-Marsh to Broadway with just two minutes time. We hurtled down the road through tiny villages on roads about as wide as one mini-van.

Connections by public transportation are spotty. The bus driver couldn’t even tell me his schedule for my return trip. Cars rule here, unfortunately, but I was scared to drive on the “wrong side of the road” by myself.

The bus driver was skilled in driving down two-way roads to my destination Broadway, which fits the definition of charming and quaint. Its “fancy” shops feature Wellies and cheerful teacups. The town museum has a painting exhibit on dogs.

Broadway Tower, a “folly,” is my first destination, a 5-mile walk up and down hills. One of England’s great landscape designers, “Capability Brown,” built it in the middle of his 200 acre-estate in the 1800s.

*Broadway Tower sits atop the Cotswold escarpment, looking like it was just dropped in the field from the sky.*

Then I’m planning to go by bus to Chipping Camden, another charming town with history and an art galley. I’ll walk 1.5 miles to Hidcote, an arts and crafts-style garden from there.

Finally, I’ll visit the incredibly successful and commercial organic farm, Daylesford, owned by Lady Bamford and her billionaire husband. Lady Bam is very savvy and trendy, the Martha Stewart of the upscale farm scene. On the farm in Daylesford, they grow wonderful organic produce with which they create amazing dishes to sell at their chic cafes in London, at their home base in Daylesford, and at a three-star restaurant in another Cotswold village. They’ve got lots of high-quality, high-priced products, from cutting shears to country inns. Organic, making a profit. How do they do it? I want to find out.

Travelling solo. I couldn’t convince my daughter, son or friends to come along due to conflicting schedules. I travelled all around Europe as a student, but I must admit as a single, older woman, it is a little intimidating. I’m calling on my old adventurous self. I like the idea of going my own way, walking at my own speed, dipping into shops and pubs on a whim. And perhaps as a nod to luxury, I’m staying at a nice hotel, the Lygon Arms, which claims Oliver Cromwell slept here– as well as the Duke of Windsor, Richard Burton and Liz Taylor and Prince Phillip. Its origins go back to the 1300s when the inn on this spot was known as the White Hart.

But, maybe for me, the extra benefit is the location right on the Cotswold Way.

As the coach road between Bath and Chipping Camden, the Cotswold Way is dotted with pubs and inns every five miles or less. I wanted to come, partly because spring comes a little earlier here than in Maryland and I am tired of winter. Also I have been carrying around memories of a visit years ago, when a group of us came out to stay in a B&B and do some walking. We were meandering along in these rich velvety green fields when a tumultuous rain soaked us to the bone. We ran across the fields, quickly found a pub, and dried off by the fire with a pint. We were talking and laughing and having the best time.