Norfolk Coast, Peak District, Cotswolds - 2017 Walk: May 30, Walking Crawley to Burford

He Said:

We are a bit sad that today has been our last walking day of this trip.

The route was easy, along or near a quiet river, through farm fields, wild areas, small hamlets, and with more small, historical churches than you might expect. The river Windrush meanders and flows gently here, and it is a bit murky, perhaps from the runoff from the recent rains. The sheep and cow fields had the usual land mines of droppings and ankle twisting holes often disguised under the new grass, but otherwise were flat and easy walking. We passed through some wild areas, one area had hundreds of newly hatched damsel flies, of at least two kinds. Another area had many small blue butterflies. These insects were lethargic due to the recent rain, wind, and cool conditions. In both cases, I had the chance to take pictures since they were more tolerant of my presence.

We saw few walkers, except near the various parking lot access points, so the walk felt like a step back in time as most things we saw hadn't changed much in the last hundred years. This environment makes me feel good, but the reality is that people's life style and numbers are always encroaching on the natural areas.

She Said:

Our driver dropped us at The Lamb Inn in Crawley.

A sunny start though muddy paths from yesterday’s big rain.

Lots of “kissing gates” – gates from field to field or into a wood that are narrow and tight and named as such because two people going through the gate are so close, they might as well kiss. So, we did!

We took a short detour off the path for our first look at the River Windrush, a gentle, quiet stream running through the gentle, quiet countryside.

Our walk was gentle and quiet, too. We were both thinking about how this was our last day of walking in the countryside. It is an odd sensation, and hard to describe. On the one hand, it will be nice to not have to walk 7-10 miles a day, day after day. One the other hand, when we leave tomorrow on the train to London, there will not be any more gentle and quiet countryside. There will be lots of people, instead of a day seeing maybe 5 people all day long. And, there will be cars. In the countryside, on the paths and trails, a car is such a rarity. Farm tractors are more likely. And, it is hard to think of a place, other than the English countryside, where this peacefulness is possible.

Sigh.

We passed an old brick barn with a nest box inside. Owls? Bats?

We walked into a shady wood, then onto a footbridge and out to the River Windrush. Along the river, we came upon the ruins of the Minster Lovell. Henry Vl (1422-1461) granted the right to enclose the Minster from the royal forest so that Minster Lovell’s inhabitants could hunt freely within their bounds and use the forest for:

· Deer and other game

· Foraging grounds for the pigs

· Timber for building and fuel

No wonder the estate thrived.

There was also a medieval dovecote (700 nests – small by Naunton standards), rabbits and warrens, and a watercress garden near a spring. And, fruit-filled orchards.

The Great Hall was immensely great, with some of the original plaster walls still intact.

Alas, some graffiti.

“Ruins Stink”

Then, in the more hidden and obscure areas of the Minster –

G.S.

1836

And…

R.V.

1818

And…

G.H.

1850

And…

H. + G.

1862

Huh. All of a sudden, graffiti didn’t look so bad!

Minster Lovell was a very stylish manor house – 15th century – built by the 7th Baron William Lovell (died, 1455).

The adjacent church, St. Kenelm’s was built by the Baron (probably more for his glory than for the glory of God as his tomb and effigy are prominent in the church).

Aside – the church did look so sweet as there had been a wedding this past weekend and the flowers all around gave it a romantic, important look.

Across a field and down a country lane to the Old Swan Inn by the River. The front gardens and climbing roses seemed quintessential English countryside.

Today was a very good bug photography day, as you will see from R’s photos.

We skirted fields of what we think were Brussel sprouts in their flowering phase. The stalks looked right for Brussel sprouts.

Today we were really out there; very rural – lots of farmland.

Still, at every tiny village, the obligatory country church.

St. Nicholas Church (1071) - Asthall – claim to fame in this church is the clockwork engine from 1670. The clock chimed the hour with a bell. It had neither a dial or hands. The clock was never modified to run more than one day at a time and it was also not expected to keep perfect time – in a week, it probably gained or lost an hour. Yet it served the parish for 250 years (until the railroads came along and demanded more accurate timetables).

More ancient wall paintings and a coffered wooden ceiling with paintings in the plaster between the coffers. So crazy that this stuff has lasted so long!

An effigy tomb to Lady Jane Cornwall, a benefactress of the church.

We ate lunch on a bench in the churchyard. Just us. No other people. Silent, except for birdsong.

A few more fields, then St. Mary’s Church, Swinbrook. By now, I had just about had it with country churches. What else could I see?

Surprise!

The Fettiplace Crypt.

6 weirdly reclining Fettiplaces (see R’s pictures) – fathers and sons and nephews and grandfathers.

1504, 1562, 1617, 1657, 1672, 1686.

Quite interesting how each church really does have some quirky, distinctive feature that sets it apart from all others.

Now some big, beautiful fields and some teeny-weeny, narrow paths.

We watched a young bull in a field doing his best to get lucky with a cow. She was having none of it, even though the bull came pretty close a couple of times. Tomorrow’s another day.

We walked back to our town of Burford and were surprised to see that the High Street was a bustling and busy and crowded place. Out inn, The Angel, is only a couple of blocks off the High Street, yet seems miles away. Instead of cars and people outside our windows, we look out at cottages with climbing roses and green fields in the distance.

These walks have been all that I hoped they would be. I am sad to see them end.

Tomorrow, on to London by train.

Certainly, a culture shock.

Miles – 8.2

Photos:

Breakfast in Burford