We met in the centre of Chipping Norton - a market town in North Oxfordshire that, looking east, is said to be the highest point until the Ural mountains in Russia.
We had no plans although we were keen to be outside after spending the week celebrating christmas with food, drink, and lots of television. The conditions, however, were not ideal for walking. Deep snow had covered much of the UK for the previous two weeks but the temperature had crept above freezing point and we were in the middle of a thaw; mist shrouded the landscape, and the ground was a mosaic of mud and slushy snow; ten days after the shortest day, dusk would arrive early. We headed to the Old Mill Coffee House to plan our route.
We had no plans although we were keen to be outside after spending the week celebrating christmas with food, drink, and lots of television. The conditions, however, were not ideal for walking. Deep snow had covered much of the UK for the previous two weeks but the temperature had crept above freezing point and we were in the middle of a thaw; mist shrouded the landscape, and the ground was a mosaic of mud and slushy snow; ten days after the shortest day, dusk would arrive early. We headed to the Old Mill Coffee House to plan our route.
Walkers in the mist and snow, Chipping Norton |
Fortified with coffee and cake, and with a rough route in mind, we set off eastwards along a bridleway to Salford. Conditions underfoot were poor; a mixture of slush and mud meant one step back for every two steps forward.
Salford Church |
Salford |
A popular book when we were children was The Vanishing Village, a puzzle story about a village that is cursed and trapped in limbo, periodically appearing swathed in mist. The mist gave Salford an air of timelessness that was reinforced by a row of old petrol pumps; we had stumbled into the vanishing village!
Sheep blending into the snow |
We headed southeast from Salford towards Cornwell, where we were greeted by a flock of lambs that appeared like small clouds budding off from the fog.
Snowy fields |
We then turned north towards Adlestrop hill. The path took us past an old barrow and a tumulus. The hill itself was still covered in thick snow - combined with the exposed location, it had a bleak feel. At the hill we headed southeast towards the village of Adlestrop.
Adlestrop estate |
Adlestop was deserted. We abandoned our plan to stop for lunch because the village shop was closed and there was no pub (let alone the pub we had been imagining for the last hour: comfortable chairs, warmed by a fire and a range of hot pies). We left Adlestrop, passing through a well cared-for estate with ornate lakes, bridges and a cricket pitch.
Walking along the snowy verge |
Back on the road, we headed towards Daylesford. The steady flow of four-wheel drives confirmed that we were going in the right direction. Daylesford has an upmarket farm shop that brings in four-wheel drive using customers from miles around. We had high hopes that the farm shop would provide us with lunch (if our wallets could take it).
Daylesford sandwich ingredients, assembled. |
The farm shop cafe was beyond our means, but we did get the ingredients for an impressive sandwich - a loaf of rye bread and some fennel salami - followed up by a chocolate brownie.
The Daylesford warning sign - helicopters! |
We left the road to cross the Daylesford estate. It was good to get away from the four-wheel drive cars, but we had to watch out for vehicles from above.
Cows ready to be milked |
We passed through the Daylesford estate and carried on through Top Farm, where it was milking time. The ladies were waiting patiently to go into the barn and be milked. The path took us back into Cornwell, and we then retraced our steps through Salford and back into Chipping Norton. It was getting dark, and it had been a long day made longer by the mud and snow, so we plodded the final mile into Chipping Norton, collapsed in the car and removed our muddy boots.
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