Bibury | Life in the English Cotswolds

Since the start of writing my Life in the English Cotswolds blog, now over fifteen years ago, overseas readers have repeatedly commented on our network of public footpaths. Mostly it is one of surprise that we can seemingly wander at will over privately owned land and clear any obstruction that may be blocking our way. In this post I hope to clarify what this civil right, now enshrined in law, is all about.

*A footpath crossing privately-owned land in the Cotswolds*

Many of our footpaths are ancient in origin dating back 5000 years or more. Of course, in those days, these paths were the main highways across a wild and untamed land. Even in the relatively recent past much of the road system was a dusty, uncomfortable route to take in summer and not any better later in the year when winter rain turned them into a muddy quagmire. Over many centuries the network of paths was created, usually by local people on foot or horseback taking the most direct and dry route to work or market. This is one of the reasons why paths often pass through farmsteads and gardens.

*This public footpath passes close to Lower Dornford Farmhouse*

Today, the public footpaths of England and Wales (Scotland has a different system) are much loved and well-used, mostly for recreational purposes. There are several organisations and charities (see list below) that help to protect the paths and walker’s rights to use them for there are several threats, such as land development for roads and houses, as well as the occasional, unscrupulous landowner. Landowners seem to fall into two categories: those that maintain the paths to allow ease of access and those that allow the paths to fall into disrepair for it is the landowner that is responsible for the path’s maintenance. A well-maintained path is clearly defined across the landscape, its gates and stiles giving ease of access whilst remaining stockproof. By statute, where a path crosses a road, the local council must signpost it.

*This farmer has mown a strip through his crop to define the footpath*

*Where a path meets a road it must be clearly marked*

After many years of campaigning, England created its first long-distance path, the Pennine Way, in 1965. It is 268 miles in length and runs down the spine of northern England passing through spectacular countryside. Today, there are many of these long-distance paths as well as shorter, circular paths. However, with a good Ordnance Survey map (paper or app) it is possible to create your own route whether it be for an hour’s stroll or for much longer. In 2010 the Slow Ways network linking various paths and lanes, villages and towns, across the whole country was created, one of the few benefits to have arisen from the Covid-19 lockdown when walking alone was one of the few permitted activities. The routes listed are all tried and tested by local people who walk them regularly.

*The rugged landscape at Jacob’s Ladder, part of the Pennine Way long-distance path*

*Ordnance Survey map shows the public rights of way (the solid red line is a main road, the solid yellow line, a country lane* [*Copyright Ordnance Survey*]

In the Ordnance Survey map illustrated above the footpaths are clearly defined using red dashes. The short dashes show footpaths (walkers only) whereas bridlepaths (walkers, horses and bicycles) have long dashes. The broken short-long dashes mark those tracks that can be used by horse-drawn vehicles (“restricted byway”). Some paths have signs along their routes showing not just the route but also the path’s category.

As mentioned, paths frequently cross farmland or other enclosed land. A way through a fenced or walled area must be maintained at all times. Below are illustrations of some of the different types of barriers you may come across although none must prevent you from continuing along your route. If it’s a route for horses the rider must be able to open the gate without dismounting.

*Wooden gate to pass through easily or wooden stile to scramble over*

*Not all stone wall are so tricky to get over!*

Visitors to England often spend far too much time in the major cities or tourist hot-spots (the Cotswolds have lots of those!) returning home not realising that they have missed the opportunity to see parts of the country that never feature in the travel magazines – the homes and villages, the woodlands and old drover’s tracks that can be found all over the country. You may choose to walk alone but when you do meet someone, they are often local and happy to exchange greetings and share a few minutes in dialogue.

*Bibury – one of the most visited villages in the Cotswolds. To see it like this you need to arrive soon after dawn!*

*Get away from the crowds by* exploring the peace and quiet of the English countryside

Not everyone, of course, feels comfortable walking by themselves, especially in an area unknown to them. Fortunately, there are a lot of local groups or larger organisations such as the Ramblers Association that will welcome you on a regular or one-off basis. Occasionally you may even find an individual who’ll be happy to share with a visitor a favourite walk or place – I’ve done it myself and made some good friends along the way. That is one of the best things about walking, the walks can be short or long, easy or arduous, solitary or in company but it is the interesting conversations you have, the beautiful scenery you pass through, and the wildlife you encounter that make such a memorable experience. Why not give it a try?

*Walk quietly and you’ll be surprised who accompanies you!*

Useful Links
click on the organisations below to visit their webpage

Cotswold National Landscape – Guided Walks
National Trust – walks in Gloucestershire and the Cotswolds
Ordnance Survey
Ramblers Association
Slow Ways
The Cotswold Way – a 102 mile trail that takes you through the heart of the Cotswolds to the Roman city of Bath, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
The Long Distance Walkers Association
Walking in the United Kingdom

I am a hills person. I love walking – or even better – cross-country skiing in the mountains. I can also admire the huge skies and vistas of flat country. However, it is with hills that I have always strongly identified with. So, when I’m asked “where was home for you?” it isn’t the county of Buckinghamshire, or even the village I was brought up in that I respond with, it is the hills and the Chiltern Hills in particular.

*A country lane in the Chiltern Hills winds its way through dense woodland*

As a child, I lived on the very edge of the village and not being schooled locally and with no children of my own age nearby anyway, I learnt to spend many hours on my own during the lengthy holidays. Although our house was close to the River Thames I found fishing of limited interest preferring always to be out walking or cycling. As I grew older I travelled further afield exploring the lanes, fields and woodlands, learning all the time about the ways of nature. Back in the fifties and early sixties people seemed to have more time to answer inquisitive children about these things or, perhaps, it was just that in those days people were more connected with the natural world so were able to answer their questions. Whatever the reason, I became more knowledgeable and enthusiastic about country ways than I ever did with schoolwork. A consequence of this is, when asked the question, “where are you from?” I respond without hesitation (and with a certain degree of pride), “I’m a Chilterns man.”

*A childhood spent exploring the fields and woodlands that surrounded home*

It was not until I reached the ripe old age of 49 that I moved away from the Chilterns to start a new life in the Cotswolds. Although as the crow flies, the Cotswolds are not many miles away (I can even see the distant Chilterns from the top of my lane) they are very different in character, the former being chalk and flint country, the latter limestone. But it wasn’t the exchange of deep, wooded valleys with few, if any, streams for a landscape of far-reaching views, fast-running brooks and drystone walls that I noticed most of all, it was the language. When I moved to this then unfashionable part of the Cotswolds twenty years ago it was still a forgotten corner of the world where, even if the local dialect had mostly died out, the twang of local accent hadn’t. It reminded me of, for it is related to, the south-western tongue spoken by many of my country cousins and also by my friends further west still. So, when I gave my usual response to the question, I was rather peeved to hear it acknowledged by the words, “so you come from London way, then.”

*A Chilterns cottage built using the local flint*

*Cotswold cottages look very different and are made with local limestone*

Now, I hasten to say, that there is nothing wrong about being referred to as a Londoner. It’s just that our capital city is as much a foreign land to me as it would be to an overseas visitor. Ok, so that might be a slight exaggeration, but somehow, I just don’t relate to city life despite my mother being born and raised in London’s West End. She had come to the Chilterns as an evacuee from WW2 through her war work and there met my father, a local boy – but that’s another story. Suffice to say, that I am a child of two halves – I have country family and I have city family much in the same way as I am a child of two cultures and two religions. Despite my relating to country ways and to complicate matters further, (although I should be used to it by now), it is to my mother’s culture and religion that I feel a closer affinity to. It still grates, ‘though, when I’m thought of as a townie.

*City girl sophistication* *meets country gent: my parents soon after marriage*

As I mentioned earlier, school life didn’t hold much appeal and so I persuaded my parents that I should leave aged sixteen. As soon as I could, I took myself off on my bicycle to holiday in Devon. Leaving Exeter with tent, camping gas stove and billy cans loosely tied to the crossbar I clanked and clattered my way along the lanes of Dartmoor. At the end of each day I would pitch my tent wherever I could and reflect with delight upon all the new experiences that had come my way. Getting hopelessly lost, I ended up at Westward Ho!, a small seaside town on on the north Devon coast. From there I travelled east finding the hills becoming ever steeper and the villages further and further apart. One day, I ended up on a remote farm on Exmoor where I decided I would spend two days to recuperate before heading for home. It didn’t happen.

*Remote hill farm, Brendon Barton where I intended to stay for only two days*

Looking back, I can’t imagine what my poor parents were thinking for there were no mobile phones or credit card statements for them to track my progress or whereabouts. I would telephone them occasionally or send a postcard always being deliberately vague as to where I was staying. In the meantime, I remained at the farm working – at first for food then, as I became more established and with the tent discarded, for a bedroom and beer money. By the time my parents turned up at the door several months later (after some shrewd detective work) I had settled into my new life and rapidly adopting the ways of the hard but exhilarating Exmoor life. Dragged back home to “get a proper job” I never completely left Exmoor behind. Every spare moment was spent on the farm and, as regular readers of my blog will know, I still spend as much time on Exmoor as possible. Being a National Park, the landscape and buildings of Exmoor haven’t changed very much over the 50+ years since I turned up on Lorna and Dick French’s doorstep although they have, as have most of the others I knew in those early days, since died. To my dismay, there is one other thing that hasn’t changed at all: when I respond proudly to the inevitable question with “I’m a Chilterns man”, their response remains the same: “So up-country then? London?” Over the years, the ‘boy from London’ has become ‘the man from London.’ And I’m sorry, Londoners, Mum and cousins – I don’t like the label!