The Millennium Way in pictures

The Millennium Way in pictures

Foreword:

The Millennium Way (the Midlands version, not to be confused with the other Millennium Ways of Bradford and the Isle of Man) is a 100-mile walk that wends its way through the gently rolling countryside of the south Midlands. The walk, created to celebrate the Millennium by members of the National Association of ex-Round Tablers, extends from Middleton Cheney, Northamptonshire in the east to Pershore, Worcestershire in the west and describes an arc with the village of Meriden at its northern apex.

Day 1.1 All Saints church in Middleton Cheney, just before I set off.

Day 1.2 I started to make my way upwards across a meadow, following a clear path that climbed perhaps two hundred feet.

Day 1.3 A disused railway track cut across my path somewhere near Lower Thorpe, running in from the direction of Banbury to the east and arrowing westwards to an unknown terminus. This section of it had been converted into racing gallops.

Day 1.4 Chipping Warden: There is an iron age fort and the remains of a Roman villa near to the village, which is bordered on two side by the River Cherwell, so it would be quite easy to while away a day in this place.

Day 1.5 I entered a large field of Rapeseed, the pathway through it barely a foot wide so that I waded through the thick carpet of yellow blossoms, their strange odour permeating the air

Day 1.6 The buildings of Upper Boddington appeared from around a bend signalling the end of the days walk.

Day 2.1 I left the village of Upper Bodington behind via a kissing gate which led to a narrow footpath, shrouded by tangled hedgerows.

Day 2.2 Near Priors Marsden: The trouble with bridleways is that horses use them, horses with big iron-shod hooves that clomp along, churning the ground over and allowing the rain to soak in. The soft ground beneath me turned at first porridgy and then full-on muddy.

Day 2.3 The road allowed me a closer look at the village of Napton-On-The-Hill. The village has been around for quite a while – its name is derived from the Old English cnaepp, meaning hilltop, and tun meaning settlement and has an entry in the ubiquitous Domesday Book.

Day 2.4 I was now on the Oxford Canal, a 78-mile-long waterway running from Oxford to Coventry and terminating at Hawkesbury Junction.

Day 2.5 I crossed a busy road to set off alongside hedgerows on a straight route through sheep pastures and cropfields towards a distant farm.

Day 2.6 The Grand Union canal: The waterway links London to Birmingham and is 137 miles in length, flinging out spurs to Leicester, Slough, Aylesbury, Wendover and Northampton along the way.

Day 3.1 Long Itchington: I wandered down the high street passing neat rows of cottages and the lovely Holy Trinity Church before taking a left turn that led me over a stream and away from the village.

Day 3.2 I was going to have Cow Trouble. Ahead of me was a stile that led into a large pasture and clustered densely around the stile was a herd of Fresians They made no attempt to move off as I approached but merely gazed at me with limpid brown eyes and a general impression of inertness.

Day 3.3 This tiny woodland was an extremely picturesque place, punctuated by half-fallen trees all hung with vines and etched with a hundred shades of green. The River Itchin wound lazily through it, little more than a stream, dun brown and dusted with damsel flies.

Day 3.4 A succession of such fields followed, offering wide views of the countryside around me, particularly to the south-west.

Day 3.5 Ridgeway Lane ended at a tiny road which carried me into the equally tiny hamlet of Old Hunningham which consisted of a cluster of cottages and a rather squat church.

Day 3.6 I came to a stone bridge crossing the River Leam. Out here in the sticks the river was a quiet and secretive little waterway, bordered by graceful willows and with only cattle wandering its banks.

Day 3.7 I continued along the back lanes of Cubbington, heading towards its high street. Cubbington has an entry in the Domesday Book, 1086, where it is referred to as Cumbynton, an old English phrase meaning a settlement in a low or deep hollow.

Day 3.8 I had convinced myself that it would all be developed land after Cubbington but this was not the case. Although the edge of Leamington could be clearly seen, marked as it was by a tower block thrusting up beyond the greenery of arable farmland.

Day 3.9 There was a most pleasant section of walking ahead of me, a gently rolling landscape of crops and fields of wild flowers.

Day 3.10 I came to the river by crossing a large stone bridge and I peered over its parapet at the wide green waters of the Leam. No longer the modest little waterway I had met earlier in the day.

Day 3.11 I entered Jephson Gardens on the side of the river that hosted the Boat Centre. Here the great and the good of Leamington are commemorated in a variety of monuments, and wrought-iron benches line pathways resplendent with summer bedding.

Day 3.12 The tow-path was empty and quite a contrast with the parks I had recently crossed, I could hear birdsong again. Even the few narrow-boats tethered along the banks seemed unoccupied.

Day 3.13 I always enjoy a good stroll along a canal and today was no exception, I forgot the leaden feelings in my legs and my sore toes and simply enjoyed the final two miles.

Day 4.1 A detached cottage stood at the end of a drive leading out onto the main road and a little bench with a hand written sign invited the passer-by to ‘have a seat’, cheerfully surrounded by painted flowerpots.

Day 4.2 Kenilworth Castle stood framed against the sky, a romantic and haggard ruin which somehow still gave out the impression of the spectacular building it must once have been.

Day 4.3 I left Kenilworth via a small lane which in turn took me onto a track across open meadowland, the ragged silhouette of the castle framed above the acres of thistle and gorse.

Day 4.4 Beyond the wild meadows lay a vast field of wheat, rippling like a tawny lake and cracking audibly in the hot noonday sun.

Day 4.5 I tripped happily enough down the slow incline to the border of the woods and then paused in puzzlement. The map clearly showed me the direction I should take but equally obvious was the solid green wall that obscured the path. It seemed to be some sort of tough bean crop.

Day 5.1 I sat on a bench surrounded by the leafy tranquillity of St. Laurence Church, Meriden, and watched the morning sun slanting through the boughs of the oaks and ash that protected the little churchyard and its ancient headstones.

Day 5.2 Meriden sported a tall needle of granite which I’d always assumed was the centre of England monument but I soon discovered was a memorial to the cyclists who had given their lives in both World Wars.

Day 5.3 Meriden is another of those places that are on my doorstep but seldom visited, I had passed through it many times over the years, knew that there was some connection to cycling, had an idea that it claimed to be the centre of England, and always considered it to be one of those ‘nice places to live if you can afford it’ communities like Kenilworth and Leamington Spa.

Day 5.4 Standing before the blasted landscape of the quarries near Meriden, with its giant craters and dinosaur-like quarrying machines, it was hard to believe that anything could ever grow there again.

Day 5.5 I found myself marching along the boundary of a field so large that it almost had a horizon. The sun beat down on me as I traversed this savannah

Day 5.6 I hopped onto the towpath of the Grand Union Canal and began to consider a place to stop for lunch.

Day 5.7 Approaching Packwood House along its old driveway was always something I looked forward to as it was a long straight avenue, lined on each side by a variety of lovely old trees.

Day 5.8 I reached the neat lawns and gravel drive that swept past the complex of ancient buildings that grew about the main house, old red brick glowing in the late afternoon sunshine, and the uneven lines of tiled roofs delineated against the sharp blue sky.

Day 6.1 I crossed a couple of small fields and entered the grounds of St. Giles church at Packwood.

Day 6.2 I found myself on the tow-path of the Stratford-upon-Avon canal, an understated little waterway that was completed too late in the day and failed commercially as the railways quickly usurped its customers.

Day 6.3 All too soon I had to leave the green sanctuary of the canal, crossing a bouncy drawbridge and engaging a number of grassy meadows until the sharp spire of St. Mary the Virgin's church poked up above the rise of a green hill and my first testing climb left me at it's Lychgate.

Day 6.4 On either side there were neatly mown pastures and large greenhouses. Through a gap to my right I noticed a brightly painted gypsy caravan and further on a restored windmill which was now somebody’s des-res. This area is either Lapworth Grange or Green Acres and has properties with an average value approaching a million pounds.

Day 6.5 I climbed a field to emerge at a crossroads which took me onto Irelands Lane and a nice mile or so of road walking, sheltered from the warm sun by the dappled shade of trees either side.

Day 6.6 At a tiny hamlet called Buckley Green I encountered two women walkers, the first fellow hikers I has seen all day and they cheerfully informed me that there was a good climb just ahead. Sure enough I approached a meadow which sloped upwards for around 100 meters at its further side.

Day 6.7 A ridge fell away to my right down to where the outlying rooftops of Henley-in-Arden could be seen.

Day 6.8 I descended into Henley-in-Arden. The route took me along Beaudesert Lane, a short little road that boasted large and ancient churches at both ends.

Day 6.9 Soon I was descending grassy pastures and narrow tracks between hedges as I left Henley behind, crossing a small brook and heading out into rural fields once more.

Day 6.10 I strode across several large fields with Bannam Wood hill growing imperceptibly larger as I trudged.

Day 6.11 Bannams Wood was devoid of people and I walked alone in a heavy silence broken only by the mad cackling of a Jay. It was both peaceful and on some level a little spooky, being up there on that hill surrounded by ancient forest