June 27 Avebury and Ridgeway Walk

For my last big adventure in England I decided to do part of the Ridgeway Walk, which I read about a couple of years ago in the New York Times. A total of 85 miles, it stretches from just outside Avebury (which I intended to visit anyway) to the suburbs of London; the most interesting part is the westernmost part. The Ridgeway is an ancient highway, dating back to Neolithic times, which ran along the high ground to avoid the marshes and tangled forest lands in the lower ground. It passes a number of interesting archaeological sites, and affords breathtaking views of the English countryside.
I got up bright and early Thursday morning, and took a series of buses from Milton Keynes to Avebury (always an adventure in itself, since the on-line and printed schedules often have at best a suggestive relationship to what actually heppens) - Oxford, Swindon, Avebury. Turns out that Thursday is Market Day in Devizes, the other side of Avebury, and the bus from Swindon was packed with people going to pick up farm-fresh veggies and strawberries. I was tempted - but when the bus approached Avebury it became obvious that a full afternoon would be needed there.
Avebury is the site of a large neolithic monument - no-one is quite certain exactly what it was "for." (They may have had "conceptual art" back then, but probably not.) There are three nested circles of stones - huge stones, many of them twice the height of an adult - connected by two long avenues of stones to other sites. One of these other sites is a set of concentric mounds separated by ditches, probably a fortified village. The other is called the "sanctuary" - it was once a large structure, temple most likely, with both stone and wood pillars, but all that is left now is evidence of footings for the pillars, each marked by a concrete block. All there was to see was a couple of hippies meditating. The avenue of stone pillars, however, which still reaches halfway out (many of the stones have been lost, removed I would guess for use in more recent construction, and their position marked with concrete pylons). It is quite interesting to walk along.
A couple of miles from Avebury and a mile and a half from the sanctuary are two other interesting monuments. One is Avebury Hill, a nearly-perfect conic mound, the largest neolithic structure anywhere in Europe, that stands like a small volcanic peak in the middle of a broad valley. On a ridge beyond Avebury Hill is a long barrow, a burial mound that originally had three chambers; one of these is open for public inspection, and well worth the visit. I walked there from Avebury, past Avebury Hill, and found it a very pleasant walk, but those with autos can park about 1/4 mile from the barrow.
Back in Avebury. The town, much of which dates back several centuries, is located half within the circle of stones. The outer ring of pillars is itself surrounded by a deep ditch and high, steep-walled mound. My B&B (Manor Farm - I would recommend it) is in an old but undistinguished brick building, directly across from part of the inner circle of stones - the Red Lion Pub, where I had dinner, is across from another part. This was all very convenient; after walking around the entire circle, then walking out to visit the Long Barrow and the Sanctuary, I spent a while just sitting on the grass near some of the stones, and after dinner went back out again. The next morning, up at dawn as usual, I walked over and spent close to an hour walking around taking photos. The morning light was a bit harsh, but created nice effects with the dew on the grass and a light mist out toward the hills - and with absolutely no-one else up and about I didn't have to worry about finding the sight-line I wanted without someone's bright orange jacket in the background. I took nearly 100 pictures, figuring I could use the best and discard the rest, but when I looked at them found only a half dozen I could bear to delete. The stones are all interesting, and they are interesting in all kinds of light. It would be fabulous to come during a full moon later in the summer (with really good photo equipment). Even aside from the possibilities for interesting photos, it was lovely to wander around the stones in the morning, with song-birds everywhere.
The writeup of the Ridgeway led me to believe that it was 40 miles from Avebury to Wantage, with the hamlet of Ogburne St. George halfway between, but a closer examination of the map showed that the first leg of the journey was only about 10-12 miles, then Ogburne St. George to Wantage a bit over 20 for a total more like 32 or 33 miles. Since I had planned to leave early, that meant that if I didn't want to spend an entire day in a tiny English Hamlet I needed to dally around somewhere.
I set out, as planned, about 7:20, and walked east along a little country lane to pick up the Ridgeway about two miles along from the official starting point (which I had walked on Thursday afternoon, on the way back from the Sanctuary). It was a beautiful morning for walking, songbirds everywhere, an abundance of wildflowers, many of which I did not recognize. The Ridgeway is a "trail" for only a small portion of its length; most of it is more like a country lane, well-gravelled for the most part and in some places even paved. Parts are open to motor vehicles, most to horses and bicycles, but I encountered no motor vehicles, and maybe a total of two dozen bikes in two days' walking. It is easy walking, and broad enough that, unlike many of the trails in England I could have worn shorts, had I brought them along, without worry about nettles. I was glad to be wearing hiking boots mainly because I was hiking rather a long way, and there were a few stretches of trail still rutted from the spring rainy season, or with large stone cobbles, where I was glad to have them, but if you plan to do the trail in shorter stretches, in good weather, low-top walking shoes would be very adequate. The trail climbs some high ridges, but the grades are easy, few of them much steeper than 7-10%. It is obvious that parts can be muddy in the winter but in the summer it is fabulous walking; walking at a comfortable pace I probably averaged close to four miles per hour much of the way.
About halfway through the first day's hike, at nine in the morning I came to Banbury Castle, an Iron Age fortified hilltop, one of a string of forts along the ridge. Each one has a large are for settlement inside three rings of circular mounds / moats for defensive purposes; apparently the topmost mound also had a palisade of upright logs. This first one was probably the best maintained - they let sheep in during the spring when the grass and wildflowers (not to mention the ever-present nettles) are growing, so the grass has a new-mown look to it, and the nettles are completely under control. Not wanting to reach Ogburne St. George earlier than mid-afternoon, I settled down on a pretty patch of grass overlooking Oxfordshire to the north, took off boots and socks, had a granola bar, and enjoyed the view. After an hour or so I moved to another equally pretty little lawn looking southward across Wiltshire. In both locations I was treated to a variety of songbirds, and swarms of butterflies. Two varieties were larger, orange and black, but one I had not seen before was scarlet red when flying, but with black netting that seemed to cover its wings when it settled onto a dandelion or one of the other yellow flowers for nectar. With considerable difficulty (they don't sit still for long) I was able to get a couple of decent photos. There was also a small electric blue butterfly, but it was even more erratic in motion, and I couldn't capture a picture of it at all. I spent a total of nearly three rather sublime hours on that old fortified hill-top, then put on boots and pack and headed out toward the east.
My concern about arriving in Ogburne St. George too early proved well founded. The hamlet has nothing like a public park, not even a bench in sight. The pub / B&B where I stayed, The Inn with the Well, is a nice place and the proprietor and staff very friendly and helpful, but there wasn't a comfortable place to sit, shade or sun, anywhere. The room itself had two comfortable beds and a little dressing-table type chair, good to sit on while taking off boots but not good for much beyond that, certainly not a place to sit back and read a book. Inside the pub / dining area there are some reasonably comfortable tables and chairs, but it is rather dark and not a pleasant place to spend one of the first really nice summer days. Outside, there are several round picnic tables with hard backless benches - again, a good place to have lunch and a pint, but not comfortable beyond a half hour, an hour tops. I ended up stretching out on the bed for a while, then put my hiking boots back on and went out to explore the alternative ways to get back up onto the Ridgeway, taking a total of about a three mile circle hike, then came back, took a bath, had supper, rambled around town, sat on a hard bench outside the pub eavesdropping unwillingly on other people's conversations for a while, and went to bed early. The Inn with the Well (the name comes from a medieval - or maybe even earlier - well that is actually inside the Inn, with a glass floor over it and lighting so you can see down into it) is a comfortable enough place, a bit too close to the main motorway (right next to the main exit for Ogburne St. George), but there is another hotel a bit farther from the motorway, that actually has a half dozen comfortable sitting chairs on the patio, where I would stay if I were to come again. Even with more comfortable chairs to sit on, the hamlet is pretty to look at but a bit boring and I would plan the trip so as to arrive somewhat later in the afternoon, maybe 5 or even 6 p.m., just time to shower and clean up before dinner.
The proprietor willingly fixed a "room service" breakfast for me, and a lunch to take along. That was good; having gone to bed a bit early I also awoke early. I should mention the ubiquitous "duvet" - a comforter style thick blanket that doubles as a sheet, and allows for no layering - in the spring or summer you either have it on top of you, and swelter, or off of you, and freeze, or half on, in which case legs and feet are in a steam bath while torso and shoulders freeze - why people think they're so great is beyond me, but 3/4 of the B&Bs in England have them. The only time I have every appreciated one was in Nepal, above 10,000 feet where the temperature dropped to freezing at night and four inches of yak wool was very nice to have on top of me. Otherwise, give me the flexibility of a sheet and a couple of blankets any time, and forget about the "duvet," "comforter," or whatever you want to call it. End of rant.
It was a lovely morning for a walk, barely sunrise when I started out. The best route back up the ridge was along a narrow country highway with a 17% grade and two gentle curves, just enough to conceal walkers from on-coming cars. Even at 5:30 a.m. I knew there would be two or three, and I didn't like the odds. Fortunately, the previous afternoon I had noticed that it is possible to enter an open gate into a farmer's fallow field near the bottom of the hill, before the really dangerous part, and walk along a field road almost all the way to the top. I don't think it is actually a legal public access path, but my concern about half-groggy drivers going too fast for the road over-ruled my sense of the niceties. I was glad I did trespass - two cars and a delivery van passed along the roadway while I was climbing the hill, one going a reasonable speed but the other two going quite fast.
As on the first day, I made good time without actually hurrying; the lane is easy, enjoyable walking, the brisk morning air and a variety of songbirds all along the way were very invigorating. As nearly as I could estimate from the map it is about 21 miles from Ogburne St. George to Wantage, the last 2 1/2 miles along one of the dread highways. (English highways rarely have anything resembling a shoulder; tall grass and sometimes impenetrable hedges come right up to the pavement, rendering walking quite a hair-raising activity.) I walked about three hours before coming to a really nice place to stop, at Uffington Castle. After a 25 minute rest break (boots off, granola bar and banana) I walked down to where I could see some of the famous white horse, originally laid out by neolithic people, re-done in the 18th century and now maintained by the National Trust. Then I took off walking again, accompanied by birdsong all the way. Along this stretch I began to encounter the hordes of people I had expected on a fine summer Saturday - two groups of schoolchildren, several people with back-packs obviously doing part or all the Ridgeway, including a couple of quite large groups of adolescent girls and several smaller parties, and quite a few mountain bikers. For all that, I was still walking in solitude for over half the time even on this final leg of the walk. I reached the final "castle," on the hill above Wantage, about 11:30, 6 hours after leaving Ogburne St. George. This one is not as well maintained or accessed as the others, and is quite overgrown with thistles and nettles, so I had to search to find a patch of grass where I could sit, take off my boots, have lunch and relax a while before heading down to Wantage and back to M-K.
I had worried about walking along the motorway back to Wantage, but a paved country lane, not shown on my map, bordered the castle on the west and seemed to head down off the ridge. Reasoning that a paved lane must go somewhere (reasoning that has on a couple of occasions in England led me astray) I headed down it, and was pleased to find myself in the outskirts of a hamlet, which led me to a secondary road into Wantage. Better yet, about a quarter of a mile along the secondary road, just before it left the hamlet (and the sidewalk through the hamlet) I noticed a sign, "Walkway to Wantage." So my fears were for naught; I managed to get down off the Ridgeway and back into Wantage and the bus back to Oxford without walking even fifty yards along a busy highway. It was a very pleasant walk into Wantage, through some woods, along a field of almost-ripe barley, then along a boggy little area (fortunately the path was paved).
One last adventure with the British privatized transportation service, and with the apparent reticence of British officialdom. I made it to the bus station just as a bus pulled in with "Oxford" on the front. I asked the driver if he went to the Oxford bus station and he asked "which one" - which surprised me a bit, but I had noticed before the bizarre arrangement in Oxford - what I took to be the main bus station is 5 blocks from the train station (with no sign-posts), making it rather difficult to make connections to the smaller towns, so it didn't surprise me to learn that there were also multiple bus stations. I told him I wanted to catch the X-5 back to Milton-Keynes, and he said he didn't go there, but could drop me off nearby. So I paid the fare, got on the bus, and we started off. The bus began by going everywhere except Oxford - and I soon realized that it was a "local," and that there were other busses from Wantage that went much more directly to Oxford (and possibly some that went much closer to the main bus station). I have experienced this many times in England: If you ask an English person who is not in any sense a public official for directions, they often give very good directions. But ask any official, a bus driver, a person at the tourist information counter, train station ticket seller, anyone acting in an official capacity, and they will answer exactly the question you ask, not the question you would have asked had you known to ask it. I am sure, had I thought to ask the bus driver "is there another bus that will take me to the bus station?" or "Is there another bus that will go more directly to Oxford?" he would have given me exactly the information I needed.
At first I thought this was just bloody-mindedness. But on reflection, I think it may represent a kind of exaggerated reticence, a reluctance either to make assumptions about a client's actual intentions or to presume to inquire about the client's plans. In any event, I ended up having to walk five blocks through a narrow walled alley to the bus station and arrived just as the X-5 was leaving. I ended up waiting in the Oxford station for 45 minutes, but still got back to M-K in time to have a beer, take a bath, and get dinner more or less at my usual time.
It was a great little hike and a very nice way to close out my two months in England. Today (Sunday) is a day for doing laundry, packing, cleaning my room, and getting myself together; tomorrow first thing I go into London for a final day in London before heading to Amsterdam, then home.