Bath's famous half-mile is genuinely small. From the Abbey churchyard you can reach the Roman Baths, the Pump Room, the Circus and the Royal Crescent on foot inside twenty minutes, and most visitors do all of it in one long morning. That is both the city's problem and its gift: the honeypot is so compact that by lunchtime on the second day the guidebook is finished, and the rest of Bath is still sitting there, largely uninspected, on the hills.
Because Bath is built in a bowl. The Georgian terraces climb the sides of the Avon valley, and almost everything that is not on the walking-tour route is either uphill from the centre or upriver from it. That single fact is the most useful planning tool you have here. Pick a direction, gain fifty metres of height or two miles of towpath, and the crowd thins to nothing — not because these places are secret, but because they ask for a gradient.
What follows is a second and third day organised by direction rather than by theme: east up Bathwick Hill, south over Widcombe and Combe Down, north to Walcot and Larkhall, and upriver by boat. Most of it is free, and almost all of it is walkable from the centre.
Walk the rim: the Bath Skyline
The National Trust's Bath Skyline is a waymarked circuit of roughly six miles, about ten kilometres, around the eastern hills, and the Trust suggests allowing something in the region of three and a half to four hours. It is free, it needs no booking, and you can join it on foot from the centre — which makes it, for a city this compressed, the single best-value half-day on offer.
The unpleasant part comes first. Bathwick Hill is a long, steady, unromantic climb out of the valley past university buildings, and it is worth accepting that the first twenty-five minutes are work rather than pleasure. After that the route opens into meadow and beech woodland along Bathampton Down, with the whole Georgian city laid out below in a way no street-level viewpoint can manage.
Two stops repay the short detour. Sham Castle is exactly what its name admits: a one-sided screen of battlements and towers with nothing behind it, put up in the 1760s for Ralph Allen, the postal reformer and quarry owner whose stone built much of the city, purely so that he would have something to look at from his townhouse. It sits about two hundred metres off the main route. Smallcombe Cemetery, in the fold between Widcombe Hill and Bathwick Hill, is two adjoining Victorian burial grounds — an Anglican churchyard and a nonconformist cemetery with a chapel by Alfred Goodridge — closed to new burials since the late 1980s and now half-reclaimed by trees. It is the quietest place within a mile of the Abbey.
If four hours is too much, do the eastern half: up Bathwick Hill, along the down to Sham Castle, then drop down through Smallcombe into Widcombe for lunch. That is around two hours. One practical warning: this is limestone over clay, and the woodland stretches hold water badly from autumn through to early spring. Late spring and early autumn are the right seasons here, and proper shoes matter more than the distance suggests.
Prior Park, and a bridge you are allowed to walk across
On the southern slope, Prior Park Landscape Garden is the same Ralph Allen's garden, laid out in the eighteenth century with input from the poet Alexander Pope and later from Capability Brown. It is essentially one long lawn falling away down a combe, with the city framed at the bottom of it and a chain of lakes at the foot.
The reason to come is the Palladian bridge of 1755, a covered, colonnaded crossing that the National Trust describes as one of only four of its kind in the world and the last surviving example in England. You can walk through it, sit in it, and see it doubled in the water below, which is not something the photographs quite prepare you for.
The logistics are unusual and worth knowing in advance, because people get caught out. There is no visitor parking on site at all — this is deliberate, and the Trust directs people to the park-and-ride sites or city-centre car parks instead. Most visitors arrive on foot up a steep climb from Widcombe, or take the number 2 bus from the city to the top entrance and walk down through the garden. No pre-booking is needed; expect to pay something under GBP 10 for a non-member adult at the time of writing, and nothing if you carry a National Trust card. Allow an hour to ninety minutes.
The efficient move is to combine it with the Skyline, which passes close by, and then walk down into Widcombe rather than back up the hill.
Walcot Street, which is Bath's other high street
North of the centre, where the city thins out along the London Road, Walcot Street is the closest thing Bath has to a functioning independent quarter: antiques, furniture, ceramics, bicycles, secondhand books, a community garden at the lower end, and a run of places to eat that locals use on ordinary weekdays.
Go on a Saturday morning if you can. The antique and flea market has been a fixture of the street for more than forty years and now sits back on its original cattle-market pitch — clothes, books, crockery, tools, a lot of nonsense and occasionally something good. It typically runs from mid-morning through the afternoon.
Landrace is the anchor. Downstairs is a bakery working with stoneground British grain, and the sourdough is the reason there is usually a queue; upstairs is a small restaurant, Upstairs at Landrace, which is listed in the Michelin Guide. Book the upstairs room ahead, and treat the bakery as the plan B that is almost as good.
A few doors along, the Bell Inn is worth a stop even if you are not drinking. It has been co-operatively owned since 2013 by several hundred of its own customers, staff and neighbours — the pub's own account records it as the largest buyout of its kind in Britain at that point — and it has kept the things that made it worth saving: local ale, free live music several nights a week, a record collective on the decks, and sourdough pizza from a stall in the covered garden. There is no cover charge for the music.
For dinner nearer the centre, Yak Yeti Yak has been serving Nepalese and Tibetan cooking as a family-run independent since the mid-2000s, and Corkage is the name locals give when asked where to drink wine seriously without being lectured. Expect roughly GBP 30 to GBP 40 a head for two courses at the better independents, before wine.