Belas Knap & Winchcombe

At the end of June we escaped across the border to visit nearby Belas Knap, a prehistoric monument situated in the heart of the Cotswolds. Along the way we stopped on a top road to look across to our eventual destination - the wooded area covering the horizon. But first I wanted to pop into Winchcombe, a bustling little town which has stood here for over a thousand years.

If I were holidaying in the Cotswolds, I might get somewhat tired of reading recommendations to visit the usual tourist hotspots. Where else, I might ask, can I see unspoilt buildings and absorb heritage, without the droves of coaches and sweaty crowds, without tacky souvenir shops and half a dozen tearooms? The answer would be - visit Winchcombe, a real, living, breathing town with bundles of history and individual shops, galleries and pubs which not only cater for the always welcome visitors, but for the locals as well.

My reason for popping in was to say hello to a couple of Twitter friends who have businesses within whistling distance of each other - just to put names to faces. On the main High Street is a wonderful old fashioned toyshop called Sprogs, crammed with the most gorgeous array of new and modern playthings. I defy anyone to enter it and not emerge with some treasure, be it for themselves or a gift for a lucky child. I treated myself to a tin kaleidoscope. Sadly it was the owner's day off, so no Twitter meet up, but I did have the pleasure of talking to their assistant, who looked after me splendidly.

Next on my list was the Winds of Change Gallery, just along the road, where I introduced myself again and was given the warmest of welcomes and a little tour. Although it is a modest size, it is beautifully laid out with a wide ranging and ever changing display of fine arts and crafts.

My visit had to be fairly quick though, despite the kind offer of coffee in the courtyard, which I will be taking up next time. We were headed to nearby Belas Knap, about a mile out of town. Parking the bike, we had spectacular views across to Winchcombe and beyond. If you look down you can just see Sudely Castle, nestling in the landscape with historic grace as it has done for centuries.

The walk up to Belas Knap is fairly short - about a mile or more - but it is all uphill. The views are worth it though. Here we can see across to our first stopping point on the top road coming in - a little wisp of smoke just to the right being our landmark, which we saw from the other side as we looked over a couple of hours previously.

It was a hot, muggy day and the sheep were taking refuge under the hawthorns, soaking in the coolness from the drystone walls.

By the time we got almost to the top, we had even better views.

I'm not an ancient historian, so I won't attempt to give a potted history of this beautiful site. It's basic shape can be seen below. A number of skeletons were excavated from it in the mid-nineteenth century and since then the side chambers have been faithfully reconstructed and left open to the public.

Coming off the footpath and entering the site, with a large, false chamber heading the earthwork.

The first north-eastern chamber, which is open. At this time of year the barrow is covered with sweet Wild Thyme, Lady's Bedstraw and Scabious. If you are lucky enough to be there alone, all that can be heard is the wind skating across the hilltop and skylarks carolling as they bounce over the surrounding fields. No wonder the ancients chose it as a sacred site.

The other end, the Southern entrance.

And coming round, the Western entrance, also open and pleasant to sit inside for five minutes, listening to the density of earth and stone around you; the silence is thick.

Feeling quieter and somehow refreshed from a half hour spent pottering around this wonderful monument, we descended back down the track to the bike, with the Cotswolds and beyond spread out in glory beneath us.

Summer stroll

Our first little walk away from the village for weeks, just a two hour potter round a nearby footpath. The Cotswolds are glorious in summer, lush with greenery and basking contentedly under the sun like a plump cat. Our walk takes us through an extensive jumping area for a big stables, through a wide, manicured grassy track lined with hedges of dog roses.

I prefer the dirt track which comes later.

The hard sunbaked chalky earth is peppered with sculptured funnel webs and at the bottom of each darksome hole lurks certain death for unwary insects.

Further on are mixed grasses, clover and buttercups, contended hums and buzzings from our feet as the bees happily bustle about doing their vital work.

A strong, cool wind blows the worst of the heat from us, but it is still good to lie under an oak tree and watch the world from a different angle. Sun sparkles and tiny flies appear to glitter in the light as they dart about.

Reluctantly dragged to my feet and hustled upwards, where we stop to admire the view looking Westwards - 

- and turning into a wheat field to head back.

Little walks

Sadly my last blog post was also the last time we managed to get out for a good long ramble. Since then, work has taken over again and I've been back in my studio. One thing I do try to do every day though - if only to stop myself going completely potty - is to get out for an hour or so every day. I need to feel space around me, to escape everything and everyone.

There are several footpaths round our village and although some might find doing the same walk day in day out rather repetitive, there are always new things to see, if you keep your eyes open. At one corner of a field there are usually hares to be spotted - if one is stealthy.

Or a birds nest tumbled from a tree, to be examined. Moss, pheasant feathers, horse hairs and grass...the softest, warmest bed for vulnerable little chicks.

Look, a tiny blue feather -

Fancy suggests that it may be a peacock feather, as there is a peacock in a village across the way - though I did wonder if it was a swallow breast feather.

I usually to do my walk in the morning, but sometimes I prefer to spend the day working and treat myself to an evening stroll. The light is different and if the weather is fine, a warm, golden balm coats the countryside...

...and the Moon rises to say a quick hello to the Sun before he sinks below the horizon. There she is, just above the trees, almost hidden in all that blue sky.

The horse chestnut avenue is looking spectacularly pretty, but already the 'candles' are dying back, revealing embryonic conkers - a reminder that this exquisite spring, my favourite season, is all too fleeting.

There are many small miracles to stop this daily walk becoming dull - but mostly it is enough to be out in the fresh air with the open sky above me.

Treasures

With the worst of my deadlines over, we celebrated with a good, long ramble around one of our favourite valleys. This walk takes longer than most as there are always so many things to look at and wonder over. It begins with an unspoilt meadow full of unusual grasses and at this time of the year, cowslips. Cowslips used to be a common spring flower, but, like most of our native wild flowers, suffered a massive decline in the 20th century. due to 'agricultural improvements'. They seem to be recovering a little, and this field was happily covered in them.

Our start point looks down into the valley bottom which we will end up in; remember that large copse to the left and the yellow rapeseed field; they reappear towards the end.

It was to be a proper treasure hunt.

Early orchids. Not particularly rare, but uncommon enough to be wondered at.

The weather was overcast and a cool wind blow through the apple blossom as I looked backwards down the path - what happiness, to be out in the open after weeks of being cooped up.

Lambs are still being born - there were some very tiny ones scampering about and we watched in amazement as 15 or so buzzards circled overhead. I had always thought the stories of buzzards taking new lambs was an old farmer's tale, but with so many obviously watching the flock, we did wonder.

A Cotswold drystone wall carefully repaired -

- beautifully integrated with the older stones. Waste not, want not. No cement or mortar used here.

And another mend, further on, the wall dipping delicously with the contour of the land.

We stopped for a little picnic - hand made pork pies from our local Wychwood Deli, handmade here in Gloucestershire by the Cotswold Pudding Company. They were just the right size and unlike any mass produced pie I've ever had.

Full of pie we strolled on, but stopped in our tracks when we saw, some way away, a ewe who had apparently just lambed. My zoom lens picked up the afterbirth still dangling from the birth canal and the lambs themselves were wobbling about, with no farmer's mark on them.

We realised that many other ewes were lambless (but large) and the lambs tottering about were, like the earlier ones, very small and new. So (ignorant as we largely are over these matters) we had to assume that they were quite capable of sorting themselves out, as indeed, this mother was. It also cleared up the 'mystery' of the massed buzzards. Probably on the lookout for afterbirth and any sickly or dead lambs - I still don't believe they would go for healthy ones.

We stood quietly watching, some distance away and I took this little film of what must have been the first hour or so of their lives. In the background, apart from the wind, you can hear a skylark and a bumble buzzing past.

Further on, in an opposite meadow, the fathers taking a well earned rest after all that reproduction.

Now we began to descend to the valley bottom.

Where, in the scrubby woodlands, we found our first badger skull and a few other boney delights which went into my bag.

I'm not overkeen on this part of the walk; despite the bluebells and the cowslips, it has a slightly murky, unwholesome atmosphere as if something bad happened here a long time ago.

But at last we emerged on the wide track of the valley bottom - last seen in my earlier photos and the copse of trees which looked so bunchy and comfortable from our viewpoint.

And the once-distant-now-near rapeseed field.

Time to head home and a scramble up the slope to the left.

Finding on our way some small flowers which I've never seen before - another indication of how rich this patch is in variety and how generally sparse our flora has become. This tiny blue chap is Chalk Milkwort -

- and this funny, scruffy thing is Glaucous Sedge - not really a flower, botanically speaking, but a grass.

Best of all and in sad, solitary splendour - two wild Pasque Flowers, incredibly pretty, rather rare and growing only on a few selected chalklands in Britain.

A day of treasures - some to store in the memory chest and others...