Stage 2, 9th-11th August: 50.15km/31.16miles
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Day 7, 3rd walking day: Radley to Clifton Hampden Bridge (14.8km/9.19miles)
Day 8, 4th walking day: Clifton Hampden Bridge to Cholsey Ferry Lane (17.65km/10.97miles)
Day 9, kayaking day: Cholsey Papist Way to Caversham Bridge (17.7km/11miles)
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Day 7 (walking day 3): Radley to Clifton Hampden Bridge (14.8km/9.19miles)
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​Two months after starting at the source, I set off again-this time by train from Paddington to Radley, Oxfordshire.
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In the intervening period of soaring temperatures, England experienced its hottest Summer ever since records began in 1910, and for the UK as a whole, temperatures equalled those of 1976, 2003 and 2006. By the time I resumed my journey in August, more average temperatures had returned, and even some rain. This meant my photos might be less likeable on twitter and Instagram (overcast grey skies and rain don’t carry quite the same appeal as blue sky and flickering sunlight reflected on water), but I was relieved-it would make the walking less arduous.
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The local train from Didcot trundled gently out to Radley, crossing the Thames twice in an agricultural landscape of fields and farms. I stepped onto the platform into the languid quiet of middle-of-the-Summer-holidays, meeting just two dog walkers on my 1-mile walk along the lanes to rejoin the Thames where I had left it. I found the river looking healthy despite the heatwave and in contrast to the hive of boat club activity I had witnessed in June, calm and deserted. Some river traffic passed by-a small group of canoeists, a passenger cruiser on a river excursion, a narrow boat. I took up my rucksack and stepped back on to the Thames Path in the direction of Abingdon.
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Despite recent rain it was firm underfoot. Peaceful walking alongside crop fields and woodland on my right, the river to my left-a tranquil flow of clear dark green, woody brown and reflected blue. Hedge bindweed, great willow herb and yarrow twisting and climbing abundantly on both sides of the path, with nettles and brambles to dodge from time to time. Few fellow walkers. I came across two with no maps and showed them the way with my Thames Path Guide: a (French?) lady en route to Oxford to meet a friend at the cinema (I had to explain gently that she would never get there in time), and a man trying to find the nearest river crossing (I explained that Abingdon was 2 miles in one direction and Sandford Lock 3 miles in the other). Distances are foreshortened and time accelerated by modern travel-walking the Thames Path reverses such perceptions.
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Rural outlook gave way to the outskirts of Abingdon-the wooded old Abbey water meadows, the sound of children’s voices and the tumbling rush of the weir. Here I crossed the river-fine views of the town, before passing under the bridge.
An afternoon discovering how human intervention has altered the river’s course over time: Swift Ditch-now an overgrown backwater glimpsed through trees-was the original navigation route at Abingdon before construction of a new channel, centuries ago. At Culham the Thames Path turns abruptly away from the river to follow the straight line of Culham Cut, by-passing a meander at Sutton Pools. The diversions had winners and losers: the monks at Abingdon who gained a new source of revenue from river traffic, the miller at Sutton Pools who lost his.
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I passed under the second of the two railway bridges I had crossed in my train that morning-smelt the pig farms I had seen from the train window, and followed the path around a harvested field dominated by a huge electricity pylon with lines to Didcot power station. At the edge of another field a startled crow flew up from the path before me-leaving behind a tiny frightened field mouse scuttling away into safety.
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Journey’s end at Clifton Hampden Bridge: from a vehicle it’s an irritating wait in single-line traffic to cross the river, from the path below it’s a magnificent grade II* listed brick structure designed by Sir George Gilbert Scott.
Day 8 (walking day 4): Clifton Hampden Bridge to Cholsey Ferry Lane (17.65km/10.97miles)
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So, on this, the day when our 17-year old son joined me for a joyful mother-son bonding session walking by the river-it poured with rain.
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Gamely, we followed the path through open cattle fields. On our right Wittenham Clumps loomed out of the mist, on our left the river, sullen and slow. Some impressive mansions at Burcot on the opposite bank soon gave way to a more open aspect. Here the Thames sweeps in a huge southerly curve, then turns abruptly east as you cross the river at Day’s Lock, with Wittenham Clumps (when we could see them) now ahead of us and the Sinodun Hills beyond. Sodden, we trudged on to Shillingford, briefly joining the busy A4074 Oxford road, before turning back to the river.
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Then suddenly everything changed: the heavy rain ceased, the clouds moved on, the sun came out. We walked down a quiet lane to reach a broad tranquil stretch of the Thames next to a thatched boathouse. Admired the floodmark showing historic floodwater levels, peeled off our sodden outer layers of clothing, tied them to our waists and rucksacks to dry as we walked. The path skirted houses and gardens with lawns burnt brown by the Summer heatwave; at the bridge wooded Shillingford Hill rose steeply on the opposite bank. Stopped for lunch at the riverside café just short of Benson Lock, then crossed the weir and on to historic Wallingford and the beginning of another (huge) southerly meander towards Henley.
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This is the longest stretch of the navigable Upper Thames between two locks (6.5 miles downstream from Benson Lock to Goring). So no wonder that Oxford University and Oxford Brookes University chose this section of the river to locate their new boat club buildings, allowing for long practice pieces. But in the midst of the Summer vacation ducks occupied the deserted OUBC pontoons, the only sign of life at Brookes being a couple of half-open boathouse doors.
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An afternoon of brilliant sunshine after the morning downpour; walking under the bypass bridge and along fields, the river appearing intermittently between high hedgerows of brambles, blackberries shrivelled dry by the heatwave. Huge willows stooped low on the opposite banks, their branches and foliage falling down to touch the water’s surface. And on our side of the river, an encounter with cattle stubbornly preferring the grass growing on the Thames Path to the rest of their huge pasture.
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At Cholsey’s Papist Way causeway we left the river; footsore, followed Ferry Lane up to Cholsey station, where we said our goodbyes.
Day 9 (Kayaking): Cholsey Papist Way to Caversham Bridge (17.7km/11m, KAYAK)
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Jonathan, Jane and Rusty their Labrador joined me at Papist Way causeway, bringing with them two kayaks, paddles and an impressive carload of invaluable kayaking gear. Rusty quickly earned the accolade Most Exuberant Supporter of Follow The Thames, embarking on a series of spectacular belly-dives into the river and emerging on one occasion proudly carrying a (previously expired) duckling.
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We set off in the sunshine, Jonathan in his own touring kayak with me in my borrowed one, Jane and Rusty as vehicle support meeting us at intervals on the way.
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When Andy had kindly arranged for me to borrow a kayak, he had texted me “Yours to use if suitable!” I had wondered what this might mean, and soon found out: I was paddling a whitewater kayak, highly manoeuvrable for someone who knows what they are doing, hugely difficult for someone who does not-very different to the stable, sit-on kayaks I have used before. As Jonathan paddled serenely along in a straight line close to the river bank, I began my uncontrolled zigzag journey down the Thames (during the day I must have paddled at least double the distance allowed for). With no spray skirt or paddle drip rings, water accumulated in the bottom of the kayak, adding to its instability. My prominent thought was simply: “I can’t fall in now, not after surviving the paddleboarding”.
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It was a tough day, with my concentration and energy focussed on the paddling and trying (somewhat hopelessly) to keep up with my partner. Despite this, and the weather closing in on us with strong headwinds and some rain, there were moments to savour: exploring backwaters inaccessible to larger craft; the delight of seeing Rusty watching us from the bridge above Goring Lock, and reading his thoughts (“If only I wasn’t on the lead I’m sure I could do a Tom Daley and join them in that lock”); the satisfaction of having battled through Goring Gap where the headwind whistles through a break in the Chilterns; the peaceful open stretch of river between Whitchurch and Mapledurham locks, where it’s hard to believe the pastoral setting is not far from the M4 motorway and so close to Reading; near Tilehurst, an unusual postbox in the railway embankment wall, accessible only from the river.
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Approaching Reading along a reach familiar to me from rowing regattas and head races, where I have passed hours as a spectator, along the towpath we found instead huge barriers, hoardings and security lights for Reading Festival in a fortnight’s time.
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Disembarkation at the small slipway adjacent to Caversham Bridge, where Jane and Rusty were waiting for us. Among geese and swans, I shivered with cold, and with relief at having made it.
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One thing’s for sure: I could not have done this part of my journey without Jonathan, Jane, Jane’s brownies-and Rusty.
Done: 49.15km/92.66miles (half way!)
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