HIKING | THE WINDRUSH WAY

On turning two one-day hikes into an overnight hiking adventure in the Cotswolds: Hiking the Warden’s Way and Windrush Way. Part 2 – the Windrush Way from Bourton-on-the-Water to Winchcombe.

Note: This adventure took place in March 2025, before this happened. 

After hiking the Warden’s Way to Bourton-on-the-Water (see last week’s adventure journal post), I set off the next morning to complete the loop – this time tracing the Windrush Way back to Winchcombe.

Though the two trails share the same start and end points, they offer distinct personalities. The Windrush Way unfolds more quietly, with sweeping views, wide skies, and when I hiked it, a countryside shimmering with early spring colour. This return leg, full of gentle rhythm and soft solitude, was the perfect balance to the previous day’s village charm.

The Windrush Way

The Windrush Way is another 14-mile hiking route linking Winchcombe to Bourton-on-the-Water, offering a higher-level alternative to the Warden’s Way. Instead of weaving through honey-coloured villages, this trail takes a more remote and scenic path through the rolling Cotswold hills, passing through ancient landscapes and the remnants of lost medieval villages.

The terrain on the Windrush Way consists mainly of grassy tracks, farmland paths, and exposed ridges, making it feel more rugged than the Warden’s Way in some ways. Some sections even feel isolated – a great choice when you want peaceful, uninterrupted hiking. Which I always love. I mean, you’re not going to be sharing the landscape with thousands of tourists on this one; the Slaughters feel a very long way away despite being just over the hill.

Instead, the Windrush Way is dotted with archaeological remnants. There are traces of abandoned medieval settlements, including Hawling and Aylworth, which offer a glimpse into the region’s past. But really, this route is characterised by its expansive hilltop views. The rewards come in the form of sweeping panoramas over the Cotswold valleys, with occasional glimpses of Sudeley Castle in the distance as the path returns to Winchcombe.

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See the full route in OS Maps.

Waking Up in Bourton-on-the-Water

I slept surprisingly well in my room at the Duke of Wellington in the centre of Bourton-on-the-Water, although the warmth was unusual for March – it made the air feel still, like spring had arrived early and settled in overnight. I woke naturally at seven, as if my body already knew the rhythm of a walking weekend.

Breakfast, included in my £78 spend (booked via Booking.com) was served a little after eight in the dining room. I went for a nostalgic bowl of Coco Pops, followed by fried eggs on toast, with an extra slice slathered in jam for good measure. Tea (plenty) and apple juice completed the lineup. It was a very generous start to the day, far more than I’d usually eat, but my appetite seemed to know I would be on my feet all day. And this meant there was need for a packed lunch – just a few snacks tucked into my bag and the promise of peaceful miles to follow.

What I Carried

This is perhaps a good point to very quickly talk about what I was carrying for this two-day hiking adventure…  

I used my fabulously bright orange 24-litre Osprey Tempest day pack – small and light, but evidently mighty. I’d initially packed into my larger 40l version, assuming I’d need the extra space, but once I’d got everything together, I tried downsizing. To my quiet surprise, everything fitted: the necessary items to keep me safe and well, alongside a few familiar comforts that always make their way into my day pack – my trusted yellow PACMAT patch picnic blanket, a tiny microfibre towel that’s come in handy more often than anyone might expect, and my little Matador airtight tins for neatly stashed snacks. I added overnight bits like pyjamas, a minimal change of clothes for the evening, clean underwear for day two, and a small wash kit to top up what would be in my room. And I was all set.

I skipped the walking poles for this one. Had the ground been muddier, I might have wanted them, but I didn’t miss them this time. Water came in a couple of metal SIGG bottles, with my flask tucked in for the (absolutely essential) en-route tea. I also packed my new-at-the-time Rohan waterproof jacket, worn briefly each morning until my body warmed up.

My carry wasn’t ultralight by any stretch, it never is. But it was just right: enough to feel prepared and comfortable without being weighed down.

Getting Started on the Windrush Way

I was back on the trail by 9am, leaving Bourton-on-the-Water with a few photos taken and that expectant feeling you get at the start of a promising walking day. As with the previous day, the morning was clear, the forecast warm – surprising for March, but very welcome.

The route slipped behind a few houses, then joined the River Windrush as it worked its way out of town. I recognised the bend in the water from previous walks, and it was nice to start with something familiar before heading into the open countryside. After crossing the main road (which took some patience – there’s no pedestrian crossing and it’s a busy road), the path followed the river between it and fields.

I overtook a cheerful group of hikers, possibly on a guided walk, before dipping into a short stretch of woodland. I’d walked this bit before, though in reverse, and remembered how peaceful it was. The trees were just waking up from winter, and the air had that damp, green scent that always feels like spring is getting serious.

A trail runner zipped past me, and I made a passing mental note about dusting off my own trainers sometime. But not today. Today was for hiking.

The trail brought me out onto a sloping meadow dotted with gorse, with a distinctly upland feel despite being just 150 metres up. The River Windrush flowed below me, silvery and calm, before the path dropped down again and followed it more closely through an open stretch that lasted about a mile. It was the kind of walking where everything feels easy and just the right side of quiet.

No Solar Eclipse at Lower Harford

Somewhere just beyond the hedgerows on the other side of the river, the trail passed the site of Lower Harford, one of three deserted medieval villages marked along the Windrush Way. Not much remains, just earthworks and softened outlines where homes and pathways once stood. The internet tells me that in 1086, seven people lived here; by 1327, only two remained. Now it’s a hush in the landscape, threaded with old lanes and hints of water meadows fed by hillside channels.

Passing this place felt quietly significant. As I walked alongside this ancient settlement now just silhouettes in the ground, I should have been able to see partial solar eclipse overhead – silhouettes of a different kind. I’d hoped to catch it, even briefly, but hadn’t brought the right glasses or a pinhole viewer, so knew I was likely to miss the full spectacle. I had hoped – expected even – the sky would go dark and cast a cool shadow over the scene, but it gave nothing away. Never mind. In the end, I found myself far more interested in the stories held in the ground than in the shadows crossing the sun.

Across a Shooting Range?!

The next few miles were quietly spectacular, undulating countryside that offered real solitude. I walked through a valley where trees clung to steep banks, then out across open hills and along narrow paths skirting the edges of fields. It was varied, peaceful walking, with that early spring warmth that makes everything feel just a little more alive.

Midway through this stretch, I passed the site of the medieval village of Aylworth, the second of the three ancient settlements marked on the OS Map along the Windrush Way. Aylworth was once a small but significant settlement, recorded in the Domesday Book, later held by the powerful Delamare family before passing to Llanthony Priory in the 12th century. Over time, the village declined, as with Harford, likely due to shifting agricultural practices and population changes. The land here was once divided between two manorial estates, and the surrounding fields still carry traces of medieval ridge and furrow farming. Aylworth manor still stands, now a luxury bed and breakfast providing a tranquil base to explore the area.

Not long after, I found myself walking straight through a shooting club. There were twenty or so butts scattered across the hillside, the ground littered with clay pigeons. It was oddly surreal, and I was rather relieved no one was around. I’m sure the footpath doesn’t actually go right across the range itself, they must shoot the other way, but it certainly felt like it did!

I saw no one else at all. Just me, the hills, and the soft warmth of the sun. It was genuinely lovely.

Snack Break at Hawling Lodge

After crossing the B4068, the trail dipped into Gazeley Wood via a steep descent followed by a well-made path threading through the trees. It’s private land with this public right of way through the middle, and judging by the quirky bike gates at either end, it’s had its fair share of dirt bike trouble. Perhaps it was once a green lane, or maybe its proximity to the road made it a magnet for off-roaders. Either way, it was a peaceful stretch, with dappled light and the kind of quiet that makes you slow down without meaning to.

Beyond the wood, I entered the grounds of Hawling Lodge, a wide, well-managed expanse of countryside that felt distinctly polished. And I mean polished – I suspect some very rich people live here!! The only water crossing of the hike appeared along this stretch, shallow enough to keep my trainers dry, thankfully.

I reached a lane where I decided to pause. I perched on the edge of a stone ramp, likely once used for loading carts, overlooking a little cottage tucked into a perfect garden. While I sipped tea and nibbled dried mango, a peacock strolled across the path with effortless nonchalance, perfectly at home and completely unbothered by my presence. It was one of those unexpected little scenes that made the moment feel inaudibly special. I sat there for a while, maybe about twenty minutes, just resting, recharging my phone, and gathering myself before the climb up Windrush Hill.

Windrush Hill and Hawling

I’d built up Windrush Hill in my mind as a serious climb, but in the end it was perfectly manageable. It was probably the most significant ascent on the Windrush Way, but was steady and forgiving. At the top, the trail passed through the site of the third and final ancient village marked on this route: the medieval settlement of Hawling.

Though the present-day village still exists nearby, this earlier incarnation is now a Scheduled Monument, its remains scattered across the slopes in the form of earthworks and outlines. Hawling developed between the 9th and 10th centuries, and by the time of the Domesday Book in 1086, it had a recorded population of 43 families. Over time, the village shrank, but unlike many other villages in the area, Hawling held on.

From here, the trail dipped and rose through classic Cotswold countryside; fields of sheep and cows, a few grains and vegetables growing quietly in the sun. The land felt lived-in and purposeful. After a couple of steep dips, the path threaded between Bespidge Wood and Spoonley Wood, crossing the Salt Way just one woodland away from where I’d crossed it the previous day.

Just beyond the trail, tucked into Spoonley Wood, lies the remains of a Roman villa. Partially excavated in the 1880s, there’s a reconstructed mosaic beneath a corrugated iron roof. I didn’t visit it this time, but it’s there, silently waiting among the trees, a reminder that these routes through these hills have been walked for thousands of years.

All Downhill to Winchcombe

The trail led back into the large Sudeley estate, this time busy with horse riders. A hunt of sorts seemed to be underway, or at least the modern equivalent: well (over) dressed figures on horseback, children included, moving across the land with practiced ease. I offered a few hellos, but none were returned. Perhaps they were deep in concentration, or perhaps I’d wandered into a world where walkers don’t quite register.

From here, the route became a long descent into Winchcombe. The roughly two mile final stretch mirrored the climb I’d made the day before on the Warden’s Way. Not entirely downhill, but close enough to feel like a gentle unwinding at the end of the hike. I passed the curiously named Waterhatch and No Man’s Patch, both marked on the map but offering little explanation. Names like this spark my imagination, echoes of old boundaries, forgotten uses, or stories lost to time.

The final landmark before reaching the village was, of course, Sudeley Castle, this time much closer than the previous day’s route. The path led through the grounds, under a bridge that links the children’s adventure playground with the castle itself. It felt fitting to end the walk here, passing through layers of history and play, returning back to the start, and into the heart of Winchcombe.

And with all but the bus journey home to go, my two-day hiking adventure was over. I finished exactly where I’d started the day before: outside the large church in the centre of town, the loop complete.

Reflections on Hiking the Windrush Way

The Windrush Way turned out to be a truly lovely day’s walk. It was gentle, scenic, and rewarding. I covered just under 14 miles in a little under five hours, which felt brisk but comfortable. I suspect my recent running has helped my fitness; I felt strong throughout, although I certainly rushed the final hour thanks to a misread bus timetable. Still, the pace didn’t take away from the beauty of the route.

Unlike the village-rich Warden’s Way, this trail offered a more remote experience. There were no big settlements, no cafés or pubs, just farmland, woodland, and wide skies. I only passed those few hikers early on, and encountered horse riders toward the end, but most of the route felt pleasingly empty. That sense of solitude was part of the magic— pockets of connection, surrounded by long stretches where it was just me and the landscape.

I appreciated how easy the walking was. The terrain was varied without being demanding, and the simplicity of the route along with the clear waymarking left room to settle into the rhythm of the day. Early spring softened everything: new shoots lined the path, sheep with lambs dotted the fields, and the light shifted with a clarity that made each view feel like a gentle pause.

It’s a route that invites reflection without asking too much. For anyone who enjoys open spaces, subtle details, and the kind of quiet that settles in your bones, the Windrush Way is an ideal day out.

Making an Adventure of the Warden’s Way and Windrush Way

Combining the Warden’s Way and Windrush Way into a two-day loop was one of the best decisions I’ve made for a local adventure in recent times. Despite being just a stone’s throw from home, it felt like a proper getaway – I hiked two distinct trails, each with its own character, stitched together into something special. The Warden’s Way offered village charm and gentle meandering; the Windrush Way brought solitude, history, and sweeping views. Together, they made for a satisfying loop that felt both restorative and rewarding.

If you’re considering walking either trail – or both – I wholeheartedly recommend it. And if you’ve got waymarked routes near you that you’ve only ever dipped into, I’d encourage you to walk them in full. There’s something about following a trail from end to end, as it was intended, that deepens your connection to the landscape and reveals details you might otherwise miss. You never know what you’ll discover; quiet corners, forgotten stories, or simply the joy of seeing familiar places from a new angle.

If you’ve got questions about either trail, please ask.

A reminder of the Windrush Way route on OS Maps…

Don’t have a subscription to OS Maps? Use OSCHAMPS to claim three months free premium access to the app (affiliate link, code works best via the mobile app) – it’s a game-changer for planning and sharing your hikes.