A Trek through time on Europe's Oldest Road: The Ridgeway
- Jon Holden-Makings
- Jul 28
- 9 min read
Updated: Jul 30
Exploring ancient paths, prehistoric wonders, and a bit of my history with my husband by my side.
Index
My Ridgeway Roots
There's something romantic about walking a road older than history itself and for me, the Ridgeway isn't just an ancient trail - it's part of my childhood. Growing up in the shadow of this chalky spine of Southern England, the Ridgeway was my playground, the backdrop to my schoolboy capers, and setting of many a muddy dog walk with my parents.
From Barbury Castle's windswept ramparts and the mysterious swirl of the Uffington White Horse etched into the hillside, to the stone-circled serenity of Avebury, they're all etched into my memory and feel the same as stepping back into my favourite local pub when I'm home for Christmas. So when we decided to walk a stretch of it together like a mini-and-not-so-litigious-Salt-Path it felt more like a pilgrimage than a hike.
What is the Ridgeway?
On paper, the Ridgeway runs 87-miles along the ridge of the North Wessex Downs and the Chilterns, forming a national trail stretching from Avebury in Wiltshire to Ivinghoe Beacon in Buckinghamshire. But its spirit is something far older and wilder. Often hailed as Europe's oldest road, the Ridgeway has been walked, ridden, traded upon, and spiritually traversed for over 5,000 years - long before there were kings or cathedrals, and long before anyone called this place England.
It was once part of a much larger prehistoric trading route, connecting the Dorset Coast to The Wash to the East. Back then, these elevated chalk ridges offered safer, drier passage above thickly wooded river valleys that sprawled below. That scene is gone now, and the wooded valleys are cleared and full of horizon-to-horizon pastoral villages and farmland, but its easy to picture Bronze Age travellers herding animals, Roman legions marching eastwards, and later medieval pilgrims making their way through the rolling hills under big open skies.
Walking the Ridgeway today, you're not just covering distance - you're stepping into deep time. The trail threads through a landscape dotted with Iron Age forts, Neolithic barrows, Bronze Age burial mounds, and mysterious hill figures carved into the chalk of the land. It's as much a walk through Britain's spiritual subconscious, throwing back to lost folktales and legends deeply tied to the landscape, as it is just another hike through the countryside.
But beyond grandiose timelines and misty legends, the Ridgeway is also deeply human. It's the hid of place where history meets hedgerows, where timelessness mixes with the occasional cow blocking your path. Some parts feel wild and remote; others take you through friendly villages with a good pub and a chance to dry your walking boots. And for LGBTQ+ travellers? There's something beautifully subversive about claiming space on these ancient paths. For much of history, people like us drifted in an out of these national narratives. But now, by walking them with pride - with rainbow socks in muddy boots - we're very much part of that story.
Avebury: Our Starting Point
We began in Avebury, because if you're going to start a walk with a sense of the spiritual nature of this landscape, then you might as well kick off among the largest stone circle in Europe. Unlike it's more famous cousin, Stonehenge, Avebury lets you walk right up to the megaliths - huge lumps of stone that tower over the cars, sheep, and people passing by - and get up close and personal with them, if you're that way inclined. Avebury Stone Circle sits at the western terminus of the Ridgeway, and itself sits surrounded by ancient wonders within the landscape; Silbury Hill - Europe's largest man-made hill, West Kennet Long Barrow - an ancient chambered tomb sat on a low hill and still open to explore, and The Avenue - a ceremonial line of standing stones leading almost to the very start of the Ridgeway Trail. All of which are joined together under UNESCO World Heritage Site protection to protect the millennia old ceremonial landscape for future generations. There's something beautiful about starting your walk in a place where prehistoric ritual meets everyday life. We sipped our flat whites (gluten-free almond bake on the side, obviously) from a cosy National Trust café, and watched sheep graze between ancient stones. The vibe? Undercover Druid.
Overton Hill to Barbury Castle
We walked the gentle uphill stretch from Overton Hill to Hackpen Hill, with its graceful chalk-cut White Horse watching out over the surrounding tiny cottages and farmland. This part of the path skirts the edge of Fyfield Down, a large plateau from which the stones from Avebury, and some of the larger stones from Stonehenge, were once hauled from the ground by our ancient ancestors. The reason? Still to this day a mystery. It was quiet. Just a couple of other walkers and the distant rumble of a tractor below. The Ridgeway, like all good things, starts without fanfare.
Hackpen Hill was my first childhood experience of the wonders of the astronomical kind, and I remember bringing a telescope out here with my Dad when I was around 11 or 12 to watch a passing comet. The night sky out here gets so dark - it's no wonder places like Stonehenge and Avebury seem to have been built to track celestial movements - and its fascinating looking skywards and wondering what prehistoric man must have thought looking out from the same spot, with the distant fires of Avebury burning on the horizon.
Next, we tackled the stretch and steep climb up to Barbury Castle, an Iron Age hillfort that's played witness to thousands of years of change - and a few of my earliest fashion faux pas (turns out neon windbreakers were a real thing in the late 90s). From here the high banks of the ancient hillfort give an uninterrupted view down into my hometown of Swindon. I always thought that Swindon didn't look too bad from here - a thought I still stand by today.
Returning there with my husband felt like closing a circle. We took a moment at the top, battered by wind, and I reminisced about the times I went up there to fly kites with my parents and sister, or times I'd come up here alone as a closeted teenager, dreaming of a life lived boldly. And now? Walking side-by-side with the man I love, in a place that once felt like escape.
Uffington White Horse Hill & Around
Returning to the Ridgeway, we climbed up the steep rise of the Uffington White Horse, a stylised figure carved into the chalk some 3,000 years ago - older than Stonehenge. It's so abstract, modern artists still look at it and go "yes, I see what you were going for". The chalk figure is only a couple of inches deep, made and maintained by generations of people who meticulously pull weeds and grass out of the chalk to keep its lustrous shine upon the hillside - 3,000 years of Britons have been doing this - out of love for landscape, an emotional tie to the land, or to be part of something historic. Regardless of the reason, it's amazing to see the dedication people have had to this lonely patch of chalky hillside in Oxfordshire.
It's only fully visible from the air - a prehistoric piece of performance art, if you will, and no one is entirely sure if it's a tribal emblem, a god, or a celestial marker. I like to think it's all three. Camp, mysterious, and defiantly living on.
Standing on Dragon Hill just below, you get a perfect angle to admire it. According to legend, this is where Saint George slew the dragon, and there's a bare patch of earth where grass won't grow, supposedly stained by its bloody demise. It's all myth layered on myth here, a way for later generations of Christians to contextualise deeply pagan stories inherently tied to the landscape, but that's the Ridgeway's charm. You're never just walking; you're wandering from story to story.
A little further along the train - less than a mile east - you'll find Wayland's Smithy, tucked quietly among beech trees surrounded by fields. You could easily miss it if you weren't paying attention. But it's one of those places that makes the hair on your arms stand up as you approach it. Wayland's Smithy is a Neolithic long barrow - essentially a communal tomb, built over 5,000 years ago. But calling it just a burial tomb doesn't do it justice. The moment you step into the clearing, there's a hush, like the trees are holding their breath. The stones stand solemnly, as they have done for longer than the Pyramids of Egypt, guarding the tomb entrance as silent sentinels of the dead. We sat for a while, leaning against the stones, nibbling flapjacks and drinking hot tea out of a thermos flask, watching Red Kites whirling overhead and taking in the silence. You don't often get that kind of quiet - not just absence of sound, but a real sense of being elsewhere. Not then, not now, just... sort of between. It felt like a thin place, if you believe in such things. And even if you don't, it's worth the short detour from the path to feel time unravel a little around you.
A Dash of Drama at Ashdown House
We carried on towards Ashdown House, a much more modern (17th-century so practically a whippersnapper) addition to the landscape here - a place I remember fondly for secretive dates in the summers between college; bringing a picnic up here to be virtually alone in the great outdoors with only a handsome boy for company. It's a beautifully symmetrical Regency hunting lodge now run by the National Trust, and feels like something plucked straight out of a period romance. Surrounded by woodland and perched on the edge of the rolling downs, it was built in the 1660s allegedly as a retreat for Elizabeth of Bohemia - sister to King Charles I and self-declared 'Winter Queen' which i think we can all agree is a camp nickname to self bestow! Sadly, she never actually lived there, but the house still holds all of that theatrical longing: a story of love, civil war, exile, and one very handsome Dutch gabled roof.
Even with the apparent modernity of the house, another Iron Age hillfort sits quietly it the grounds, just beyond the woodlands which burst with bluebells and wild garlic in the spring. It's a place that manages to feel grand and intimate all at once, and because it's a hidden gem, you've very unlikely to battle any crowds here. It's perfect for a romantic moment - or an impromptu photo shoot.
Wandering Into Wantage
We veered off the path near Letcombe Regis to spend the night in Wantage, a handsome well-appointed market town in Oxfordshire, once home to King Alfred the Great. The trail took us past more places with quiet landmarks tying back to the myths of British history, like the Blowing Stone - a monolith with a hole carved through that King Alfred supposedly blew through to hail his Wessex armies to beat a hoard of approaching Vikings nearby. Wantage wears it's history with quiet pride, like the statue of the king in the market square looking stoic and a little windswept - relatable, really, given the British weather. The town itself is full of character. Georgian shopfronts and independent cafes line the high street, and we managed to grab some food at The Greyhound, which had GF fish and chips on the menu - the only correct way to see out a couple of days along Britain's oldest road. Wantage has that rare combo of history, hospitality, and homeliness, and while it might not scream "queer culture capital", there's something quietly affirming about finding comfort and kindness in smaller English towns too - especially when you're dragging tired feet and scraping mud off of walking boots.
But while we chowed down on our Fish and Chips our thoughts turned again to the Ridgeway. There's a magic here that's hard to put into words. It's a path older than memory, but still full of history and, for me, personal meaning. It's part wild, part welcoming, part a mud-soaked march, and part peaceful ramble. And for LGBTQ+ travellers - especially those of us rooted in the UK - it's a journey worth taking. A way of connecting to landscape, and a very queer and abstract history that is part legend and part fact, all while making space for our own stories along the way.
Planning Your Ridgeway Walk
Best time to walk: Spring and Autumn are ideal - Summer gets hot and busy, winter can be muddy and the weather can be harsh.
Accommodation: Cosy B&Bs and pubs in Wantage, Avebury, Marlborough, and nearby villages. Pack layers.
Accessibility: Parts of the trail are challenging for those with mobility issues, but there are shorter sections with better access. Check the National Trails website for more information.
How to Get There: Trains run to Swindon (for Avebury), Goring & Streatley (for the central Ridgeway), and Didcot (for Wantage).
LGBTQ+ Travel Note
While this isn't a party destination, the Ridgeway offers something many queer travellers are quietly craving: space to breathe, reflect, and reconnect. Whether you're holding hands under ancient skies or just looking for a route steeped in stories - this is a path worth walking.
If you're looking for ancient trails, sweeping views, and a little queer joy along the way? Bookmark this post, lace up your boots, and let the Ridgeway guide your next slow travel escape.
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