Golf Courses, Towers & an Epic Tumble.
Day 9 – Cotswolds Trail – Dursley to Wotton-under-Edge – 14.5km.
Another day, another incredible B&B! Honestly, I didn’t want to leave.
This one was extra special—more than just a cozy retreat, it was a work of art. Literally.
Ray, the owner, took what was once a run-down care center and turned it into a vibrant, creative sanctuary.
Every corner was filled with artistic flair, proving that some people don’t just dream—they build.
But alas, the trail was calling (more like taunting), and off I went… straight uphill. Again.
By now, I’ve accepted that every morning in the Cotswolds starts with a climb—it’s practically the initiation ritual.
And today? Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly The Sound of Music; it was more Climb Every Mountain—but with my personal soundtrack of huffing, puffing, and questioning my life choices.
At the top? Surprise! Another golf course. Seriously, I’ve crossed so many at this point, I’m starting to wonder if the entire Cotswolds has turned into one gigantic golf club.
On the bright side, this one had views to die for—I could see clear across to Wales, with the mighty Severn Bridge stretching across the estuary like a silver ribbon.
Not bad, golf course. Not bad.
Navigating the trail was refreshingly easy today—plenty of signs, no wrong turns, no wandering aimlessly through sheep fields. Progress!
Soon, I reached the village of North Nibley, where creativity was not on the top of their list as they named their main street… THE STREET!!
Yep. That’s it. Gold star for originality, folks! 😂😂
But the day’s real challenge was still ahead—a final, brutal climb up to Tyndale Tower.
This stone beacon, built in 1866, honors William Tyndale, the scholar who translated the New Testament into English, defying the Church and ultimately paying the price with his life. The tower stood tall, a reminder of courage and conviction.
Getting up there was tough. Coming down? That’s when the drama happened.
The descent was the steepest, slipperiest, longest one yet, and, of course, my luck ran out.
One misstep, one awkward slide, and BAM—ankle twisted, knee wrenched, dignity gone. 😩
To avoid a full-on tumble, I did an accidental interpretive dance move that my joints are definitely not designed for.
But, if there’s a silver lining, it’s that Wotton-under-Edge was mercifully close.
I hobbled into my hotel, collapsed onto the bed, and made best friends with a bucket of ice and some miracle ointment.
And the best part? The bar had my favorite plaque: “FREE BEER TOMORROW.” 🤦♀️😂
Here’s hoping I can still walk tomorrow. Stay tuned!
