The Cotswolds

Rolling hills covered with a patchwork of hedge-fenced, sheep-filled paddocks stretching between quaint English villages with names like Dorsington and Chipping Campden, the Cotswolds was quintessential English countryside. Our arrival in the United Kingdom forced us to bid goodbye to the comfortable Mediterranean weather and long daylight hours we’d be enjoying in Spain and Portugal: it was day five in England before we even saw the sun, and daily maximums ranged between a chilly 9°C/48°F and 12°C/54°F. Oh, and the sun set at 4:15PM each day, meaning it was typically pitch black by 4:50PM. That said, the autumn colors across the English Midlands were absolutely beautiful during our time in the Cotswolds, with a kaleidoscope of yellows, reds and oranges everywhere we looked, especially on some of the walks we undertook between the region’s quaint villages.

It was nice to spend almost a week in one spot after go-go-going for for the past few months across the European continent (none of us are complaining about go-go-going across the European continent, however!). We shacked up in a charming converted barn in-between the Cotswolds villages of Welford-on-Avon and Barton, where Lisa and I enjoyed daily jogs along the lanes to the nearby villages of Dorsington and Braggington while the kids were left free to roam about the surrounding paddocks and to have the run of the house. Every house – whether grandiose manor or quaint cottage – seemed to have a name: The Croft, Dormer House, Firs Cottage, The Moat House, Bramble Cottage, The Old Manor, Hilbre… We had a great time exploring all the English pubs dotted about the Cotswolds, so much character in each of the old establishments. We savored a couple of meals – one a delicious Sunday roast – at the quaint Mason’s Arms a stone’s throw from our house in Long Marston, and another at The Golden Cross across the other side of the River Avon. The hearty food was a far cry from the delectable cuisine we’d started to take for granted across the Iberian Peninsula, but it was certainly better than a kick in the pants. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the British tradition of serving their cask ales at room temperature, though.

We adventured around the Cotswold towns on days when we didn’t undertake longer day trips, such quaint villages at every turn. The Cotswolds were a labyrinth of narrow country roads and laneways, we were again thankful for Google Maps as I think we would have spent a lot of time driving around in circles otherwise! There was really no end to the towns dotted about the countryside, one could spend weeks hopping between them and walking along the streets filled with historic churches, welcoming pubs and charming cottages. Chipping Campden in the center of the Cotswolds was certainly one of the more elegant of the villages, with it centuries-old market structure and immaculately preserved limestone buildings lining High Street. The thatched roof cottages and country houses so symbolic of the Cotswolds region filled the alleyways and lanes of Chipping Campden, I’d hate to think at the labor it would require to install and maintain the roofs.

Bourton-on-the-Water was also a fun stop, quite obviously a magnet for weekend visitors from London given the hustle and bustle about town when we visited last Saturday. Max and I sampled our first British pastries at Bourton-on-the-Water and they were quite delicious: pasties and sausage rolls from the Cornish Bakery. By the time we were done with them, there was so much oil on the paper bags in which they came we could see through them!

Stratford-upon-Avon in the northern reaches of the Cotswolds was decidedly more working class, the sixteenth-century birthplace of William Shakespeare didn’t have any of the charming limestone buildings endemic to the central Cotswolds. The medieval market town still had plenty to keep us busy, however, with all its shops, canal boats and even an open air market on the day we visited.

The Cotswolds are crisscrossed with a maze of walking trails – public footpaths or public bridleways in English parlance – that provided an excellent way in which to explore the region on foot. The trails offered everything from walks of a couple of miles to multi-day trips if strung together. We spent a couple of our days in the Midlands walking around the countryside, our first hike a loop beginning and ending at the pleasant medieval village of Blockley in the central Cotswolds. Most of the Cotswolds walks traverse private property – much of it farmland – via easements, so it was quite common to cross paths with livestock along our routes, much to the kids’ delight. The gates, fences and turnstiles we had to navigate as we passed from one property to another constantly kept us guessing, some of the latching systems were quite elaborate. I can imagine a few of the farmers chuckling to themselves as they installed them, thinking of the hikers they were going to vex with their contraptions… The autumn colors along the way were beautiful, so many shades of red and yellow and orange everywhere we looked. Our Blockley walk went through the high brow village of Batsford halfway through the loop, eventually finishing up at – gosh darn it – The Great Western Arms pub with its welcoming open fire to warm us after the chilly temps outside.

We also embarked on a loop from Snowshill, passing through the seventeenth century villages of Laverton and Stanton along the way. Lovely to finally see the sun after five days of English fog and overcast skies! We’d organized for Lilia to go hacking (trail riding) about halfway through the loop, so dropped her off at Jill Carenza Equestrian and drove back from Snowshill to collect her when she was done. The horses – all 140 of them – at the Carenza stables were absolutely stunning, some of the most magnificent horses any of us had ever seen. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though: with all the opulent manors, manicured estates and Land Rovers and Bentleys we’d seen over the prior few days I have a feeling there’s a lot of old money in the Cotswolds… I think Lilia’s experience on her steed was about the best two hours of her life: she trotted, posted, cantered and even took her hack Marvin over a few cross country jumps during her ride through the Cotswolds countryside. Very fun for Max, Lisa and me to hear the clickety-clack of hooves on the ground behind us as we were hiking through picturesque Stanton on our way back to the car, only to turn around and see Lilia with grin from ear to ear and her riding partner Ruth come trotting through the streets of the village on their way into the woods. In the car on the way home Lilia noted, “I only fell off Marvin once, after the second jump I tried, but I landed on my bum so had some good padding!”