June 22, 2002: Dowdeswell to Air Balloon Inn
Pond behind Seven Springs pub
It was again sunny as we met for breakfast on the fourth day of our walk. The dining room was crowded with huge young men in their twenties, a large group of lads who were here for a golfing weekend and whatever additional mischief they could get up to (including some very late and noisy arrivals in our hallway last night).
After our dining experience of the previous night we expressed an interest in eating in our hotel but the young Joyce Grenfell who presided over this establishment said there was only one sitting at 6:30 and we decided that this was much too early for us.
I called Starline and a car was soon on its way to take us back to the Waterside Carvery. It was exactly 10:00 when we began our ten-mile trek with a walk along the A41 pavement – as we searched for our turnoff. As usual, there was a considerable ascent to start the morning, but the gradients were not too excessive at first. We were in woodland and open meadows as we rose; from this side there was no view of the reservoir below either.
Things leveled off for a while as we turned to the right on a path into Lineover Woods. Out in the open there were views of Old Dole Farm below and ahead a steep climb up to a bench overlooking California farm, and, beyond all this, the sprawl of Cheltenham once again. We had a bit of a rest and then followed a man on a bicycle back into woodland – as we turned our back on the escarpment and headed south among fields.
We crossed a busy road (the original CW turns right here) and continued forward along a track on the borders of woodland once again. There was a shooting school on our right and the raucous interruption provided by all the firing was less than pleasant. Still, the walking was mostly level enough as we followed our track south in territory dominated by power masts. A turnoff put us onto paths through fields again and this was also pleasant walking, with a number of wildflowers sharing space with the crops. At the end of this route, back on a stony track, we passed another golf course and reached tarmac, where we turned right. There was not much traffic about as we headed northwest past New Farm Bungalow and gradually downhill to the junction of the A435 and the A436 at Seven Springs.
Through the trees, off to our left, I thought I spotted a pub sign and, as we had just passed the high noon mark, it was necessary for me to investigate this more fully when we arrived at all the traffic. Sure enough, just down the A436 there was a pub, The Seven Springs – an establishment mentioned in neither guidebook nor signaled on the OS map. That was the good news. The bad news was that it was closed until early July for refurbishment.
We wandered around disconsolately and in this fashion discovered some outdoor picnic tables behind the pub – where we decided to set up our lunch, provided this time by the Wyastone’s kitchens. The site was quite lovely, with a large pond at the bottom of the hill and coots and mallards, with young in flotilla, skimming the smooth surface. Marge fed the ducks with some of her sandwich bread.
Shortly after 1:00 we packed up but Tosh was delayed in her departure by conversation with two Japanese tourists who were also distressed by the pub’s closure. Tosh invited them to use the picnic tables if they had any food with them – “We have a power bar,” was the wife’s response.
We dodged the traffic to cross the street and made our way under rather grey skies back up to the road junction. Here we turned north, soon taking the road to Windmill and Hartley Farms and continuing forward on tarmac. There actually was a derelict windmill in the field on our left. After another stop for woodland pees we began to climb along field edges as we headed west to resume our walk along the escarpment. Charlton Kings was still below us – and Cheltenham just as close as before.
The Devil’s Chimney and more of Cheltenham
The ups and downs of this route seemed less severe than those of Cleeve Common and we were making good time as, imperceptibly, we rounded the corner of the escarpment and began heading south again. There was a trig column to aim for and after this many views of Gloucester to the south. We spent some time searching for a rocky pillar, left over from quarrying ventures and know as the Devil’s Chimney – and at last, having passed it, we were directed to spots where it could be seen – and photographed.
Having circled around much of Leckhampton Hill we were directed along a road that was rising in a northeasterly direction. At the top we turned right on another track and headed south on descending tracks past Salterley Grange. No sooner had we reached the next road then we were ordered to turn right to follow tarmac in a northwesterly direction past a college of higher education at Ullenwood and then, after crossing a highway, past an abandoned army camp. There were both cars and children on horseback on this narrow stretch of macadam and there was some problem with getting the first past the second – with one horse using its close proximity to the verge to come away with a large branch in its mouth.
Our road began its descent but we were turned to the left on a wooded footpath to head south along the western facing escarpment. The path was uneven and very narrow and a weedy jogger made things more difficult by breathing down our necks. Poor Marge almost fell over backwards in her surprise.
We were now in the precincts of Crickley Hill County Park and there were lots of people and their dogs about. Mention in the guidebook of two parking lots incited the usual Tosh fantasy – there would be loos, coffee and an ice cream van. When we reached the first of the lots, indeed, there was an ice cream van – but Tosh was only interested in the loos and, though Harold and I held back while the women visited these, when they returned Tosh, more interested in coffee now, disdained a visit to the van and insisted we get this walk over with as soon as possible.
We hadn’t far to go, following posts out to the end of a promontory where an ancient fort had perched, then reversing our steps to head north against a stone wall and into woods one last time. We were nearing a highway all this time and when we emerged from the woodland (after I had to call the others back because they had missed a waymark) we turned to our right and climbed up to the busy traffic – with the welcome sight of the Air Balloon Inn opposite us.
Gingerly we threaded our way across an approach road to the roundabout and at 4:40 we entered the busy precincts of this ancient hostelry. After we had selected a table and purchased our alcohol (Marge usually drank a glass of the house red) I pulled out my phone and called Starline. They asked us to meet the driver in the parking lot in fifteen minutes but well before this time Simon Wilson was threading his way through the tables to get us.
The Queen’s Gardens, Cheltenham
We really hadn’t made that much progress to the south of Cheltenham and in fifteen minutes (for £7.50) we were back at our hotel. We didn’t get cleaned up immediately however since we wanted to take advantage of the early return and the afternoon sunshine for a walkabout. Margie had a map and so we walked for some distance toward the town center, checking out restaurant menus as we did so. Tosh seemed to favor posh French restaurants, and we spent a good deal of time getting down their details, but I favored an Indian on our corner and this idea prevailed. In the meantime we passed many a garden, including Queen’s Square and the shops on The Promenade (which Harold described as the Ramblas of Cheltenham). Twice on this expedition we passed the Japanese couple we had seen at the Seven Springs pub. We made a reservation at Shezan on the way home and then had another drink at the Kandinsky Hotel in a nice outdoor atrium where they had popcorn in bowls.
Back at our hotel I had a shower and a brief doze and then at 8:00 we went to the Indian and let Harold do his usual expert job of ordering. The Lees denounced many of the dishes as not up to the standard of their local in Acton, but I thought it was pretty good. Service was again slow. It was almost dark when we returned to the Wyastone for another well-deserved night’s rest.
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