I’m just gonna say this and I’ll never bring it up again.
When Jenny first proposed that we do the Cotswold Way, I said “sure, I love to hike.“
“Don’t call it hiking, Dad, the Brits will make fun of you,” she said. “It’s a walk.”
After nine days and 100 miles I am here to tell you it was a hike.
A bone bruising, blister-rising, leg and foot punishing, back aching and occasionally soul crushing HIKE!.
Of epic proportions.
Which is why, when we finally stood in front of the official end of the CW, in front of Bath Abby – after a final 12 mile, 8-hour day’s journey, Jenny and I were bone weary, foot sore and just relieved to have finished.
We promised ourselves that we’d come back tomorrow and take some happier, more celebratory shots.
But we did it!
The whole nine yards.
I mean, the whole nine days.
And I’m here to tell you that once you set your foot down upon the path known as Cotswold Way, you never know what you’re going to see over the next ridge or in the next village.
A stunning church perhaps.
Or the site of a ferocious battle.
Where men deployed sword, musket and cannon.
To determine the future of England.
As we had done for the past eight days, we trusted in the signs to show us the way.
I can’t explain this. I won’t even try.
For most of the day, Bath seemed like a distant mirage.
And even when we reached the outskirts, getting to the end never felt like a walk in the park.
While we were endeavoring to persevere it seemed like all the people of Bath (Bathites? Bathians? Bathers?) were outside enjoying the sunny Saturday afternoon.
And then, there it was.
The end of the trail.
The conclusion of nine days of an amazing father-daughter adventure.
Finis.
That is all.
FreeGNV 