Cross-country scramble Sep 9

After a rest day I was up for a big morning's workout, so at 9am, I took Hercules, my faithful rust bucket, across to a long field footpath, which climbs slowly and punishingly upwards. It was a cool, autumnal morning, with the clouds gradually burning off to reveal a clean blue sky. Hercules is an old racer, with two working gears and one brake, and he does not like this kind of rubble filled travelling; that is for mountain bikes, he grumbles, and he was born before they came on the scene.

Nonetheless, we plodded up the track, having to walk most of it, listening to the tiny clockwork tickings of crickets in the long, dry grass. At the top, the footpath turns and we were rewarded with the most spectacular view, looking westwards. The camera cannot do justice to the panoramic vastness of the landscape, stretched out around. The clean wind blew gently through my hair and for once I forgot about work, and even blogs. If one had to leave this Earth, right now, this would be a good way to go.

After this indulgent moment of melancholia, we bumped and bobbled along the stony path, through stubble fields, along the D'arcy D'alton Way.

This part leads into the side of a grandiose estate; there is an Alice in Wonderland moment, when there suddenly appears...

...the decrepit remains of an long-unused gateway, which must have been magnificent in its time. Once, this would have been a broad entrance for carriages.

Passing through these architectural sentinels, one almost misses the little hidden sanctuary behind. It is as overgrown as the Secret Garden, with a stone bench for the footsore walker.

The bench is inscribed with a touching memorial, which never fails to bring a lump to my throat.

'To the happy memory of
Henry Haughton Reynolds,
Lord Moreton,
who farmed this land
for more than 30 years
and loved this view.
1857 -1920 '

And this is the view he loved.

Descending into the estate proper, and very much enjoying being a ragamuffin amid riches, I was startled by the somewhat sinister and surreptitious opening of a pair of gates...they paused, wide, as if beckoning me in; then, just as silently, they closed. I wondered if there was CCTV hidden somewhere, but logically, they must be sensor activated.

Slightly unnerved, I headed to the end of the footpath, off the estate and onto the firm road again, passing through peaceful villages and making a long loop to return home.

By now the sun was hot, but it was a gentle heat; more slow cooker than barbeque.

I was amazed to find that I had been out for three hours, returning at midday. To mark my thorough enjoyment of our part of the Cotswolds that morning, I treated myself to a small lunch of oatcakes and locally made Crudges Haddon Gold Cheese.

High point - magnificant views and stunning estate grounds.

Low point - to be honest, absolutely none!