The Quiet Paths

By now, I should probably acknowledge that my three-part holiday blog has taken considerably longer to write than the holiday itself.

But we have finally reached Part Three.

On Saturday 12th September, we packed up the van once more, said goodbye to the beautiful North Devon coast and began the journey towards the final destination of our trip: Lechlade-on-Thames, in the Cotswolds.

The landscape changed around us as we travelled. The wild cliffs and steep-sided valleys of Devon gradually gave way to something gentler — rolling countryside, pretty villages and those wonderful honey-coloured stone cottages that make the Cotswolds instantly recognisable.

And then there was the Thames.

It feels rather different here from the great river that eventually flows through London. Lechlade sits towards the navigable upper reaches of the Thames, where the river is still intimate enough to meander quietly through the countryside, edged with willows, fields and towpaths.

Our home for the final few days was Bridge House Campsite, wonderfully positioned beside the river and within easy wandering distance of the village. bridgehousecampsite.co.uk

It didn’t take us long to wander into town in search of sustenance.

And there we discovered a delight.

From the coast to the Cotswolds

One minor frustration during our stay in Combe Martin had been the surprising lack of seafood on offer. We’d spent several days beside the sea, staring at the sea, walking beside the sea…

…and somehow eating remarkably little from it.

Then we travelled inland to the Cotswolds and found New Wave Brasserie.

A seafood restaurant.

Naturally.

Better still, we discovered that Saturday was our only opportunity to eat there during our stay, so a table was hastily reserved and, an hour later, we were back.

It was fabulous.

Lobster and fries for me; a seafood platter for Mark. After my unsuccessful attempts to find a seafood feast beside the Devon coast, there was something wonderfully ridiculous about finally finding exactly what I’d wanted after travelling inland.

New Wave describes itself rather neatly as bringing the coast to the Cotswolds, sourcing much of its seafood from Cornwall, Devon and Scotland. newwavebrasserie.com

Apparently my lobster had simply taken a more circuitous route through the South West than I had.

Life beside the river

The remainder of our stay unfolded at a wonderfully leisurely pace.

We walked beside the Thames, wandered through the village and watched boats making their unhurried way along the river. There was no particular agenda and, after nearly two weeks on the road, that suited us perfectly.

There was, however, rather more activity overhead.

RAF Fairford lies only a few miles away and we appeared to be conveniently positioned beneath one of its flight paths. Consequently, our peaceful riverside retreat occasionally came with some rather dramatic aviation.

For someone who habitually looks upwards whenever something interesting flies over, this was no hardship whatsoever.

The camera was rarely very far away.

On our final full day I wandered alone through the village and out towards the local nature reserve, taking the camera with me and spending a lovely afternoon doing what I enjoy most: walking slowly, looking closely and seeing what appeared.

After the drama of ospreys, marsh harriers and that wonderful glossy ibis at Ham Wall, this was quieter wildlife watching. No targets, no list of things I hoped to find. Just a camera, an afternoon and somewhere new to explore.

It felt like a rather appropriate way to spend the last day of the holiday.

One last sunset

And then, suddenly, we were at our final evening.

After all the wonderful meals, local food, seafood, cider and holiday treats we’d enjoyed during the trip, we celebrated in suitably glamorous fashion.

An Indian takeaway.

An old favourite, eaten beside the van while the sun sank slowly over the campsite.

Perfect.

There is always something slightly melancholy about that final holiday evening. The van is still home for one more night, but you’re already beginning to think about packing things away. Tomorrow’s route has been discussed. Reality is quietly waiting somewhere beyond the campsite gate.

Looking back, our journey south had given us three completely different little holidays within one.

Glastonbury brought legends, ancient stones, cycling and extraordinary birds.

Combe Martin gave us cliffs, sunshine, cider and a fossil that wasn’t a fossil.

And Lechlade asked very little of us at all.

We walked beside the river. We ate extremely well. We watched aeroplanes overhead and wildlife beside the water. We sat outside the van as the evenings drew in and enjoyed having nowhere else we needed to be.

Perhaps that was exactly the right way to finish.

One last sunset.

One last night in the van.

And in the morning, home.