Hurley – Marlow – Maidenhead.

It had rained in the night. I skipped breakfast and bought a sandwich in the little village shop. A bus was leaving for Maidenhead, it would be there in 10mins! Only about 5miles direct whereas I would be doing over 10. One of those beautiful wooden arched bridges took me over to an island at Hurley Lock. There seemed to be channels everywhere with boatyards tucked down side inlets. A boat passing through was heading to the Kennet and Avon. It was good to see more boats moving now the river was calmer. After the next lock, Temple, the path became a quagmire and I was glad of my poles for balance. It continued like this into Marlow. Bisham Abbey and Church looked impressive on the south bank, apparently the buildings and grounds are now used as a National sports training facility. There were oarsmen on the river this morning. The approach into Marlow was stunning and I saw more people out walking by the river than I’d seen all week. 

Marlow was busy with Saturday morning shoppers and I struggled to get a table in Burgers for my morning coffee and croissant. Before leaving I pottered about in the churchyard of All Saints by the bridge where I came across a memorial to T S Eliot who had briefly lived here. The quote from the poem  Burnt Norton, one of his Quartets,  struck a note with me.

A Time past and time future.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.

A curious walled path, must be an ancient way, twisted and turned through town and then the way by the river was closed for flood prevention measures. One tends to forget how badly some of these Thames towns have been flooded in the last decade. The diversion was badly signed and I ended up climbing over barriers and in even worse mud. Eventually parkland opened up with a popular path running through. The adjacent rugby pitches seemed to have a tournament in progress. The muddy paths continued all the way to Bourne End which was a haven for boaters. People were out tinkering ready for the spring launch. The path was often squeezed between fencing, private houses and gardens to the left and private river frontage to the right.

A footbridge attached to the railway took me to the opposite bank where I had been recommended a diversion to the characterful Bounty Pub. To be honest I was disappointed, it was rather scruffy with unfriendly bar-staff. Obviously for the well healed boaters its quirkiness  must be something out of the ordinary. They did serve the local Marlow Rebellion beer and their terrace must be a great spot to watch the river activity in summer, but can you imagine the crowds.

The next muddy stretch through meadows to Cookham was busy with families. Pretty Cookham is one of the richest villages in Britain with many houses well over a million pounds. Artist Stanley Spencer has a gallery here and author Kenneth Grahame lived here when young deriving inspiration for Wind in the Willows. Ignoring the posh shops and gastropubs I popped into the quaint Teapot Tea Shop, they don’t make them like this any more.

The next couple of miles once back on the river were surprisingly rural. I was amazed at how wide the Thames had become in the last few days. A few more house spotting opportunities and then road takes over into Maidenhead with a flurry of interest at Boulters Lock.

My hotel for the night, right on route, was of course ‘The Thames’, and very good it seems. It took me some time to get the mud off my boots before entering. They are advertising live music every Saturday night so it will be interesting how much noise there is.

*****

Sonning – Henley – Hurley.

High expectations of a scenic day and the forecast was good, it always seems to be down here.

Over the lovely brick bridge and onto a muddy path along the north side of the Thames. Hand painted signs add a little character to the route. Nothing much happened until Shiplake where there was one of those exclusive schools charging £10,000 a term basic fees. They had rowing facilities on the river naturally. The village itself seemed doomed to mass development with building proceeding everywhere. There was a great corner shop selling coffee and pastries, perfect for elevenses. Posh houses kept the path away from the river for awhile. One particular grand house had a miniature railway through the gardens. Lots of gates and cameras – who lives here?

Back on the river the area around Marsh Lock was fascinating. Wooden bridges weaved in amongst the lock and weirs. Volunteers were busy painting the lock fixtures ready for the season. Marsh and Mill Meadows had popular paths leading into Henley. Rich houses abounded with their boat houses and moored cruisers. No barges here, the size of your house determines the size of your boat. I don’t understand why you would need an ocean going yacht to potter up the Thames. The marina as you enter Henley is full of tourist boats offering river trips  all seemingly run by one organisation – Hobbs of Henley.

I found a basic cafe riverside, Chocolate Cafe, for the usual fillip. It seemed popular with cyclists, maybe the cheapest in town. The town itself was busy with shoppers and all the usual shops – best avoided. There are classic riverside properties. I did peep into the churchyard at Dusty Springfield’s simple grave.

On the other side of the river my onward journey took me past lots of rowing clubs, the Leander is one of the oldest in the world, 1818. The Remenham had a smart clubhouse.This is the site of the annual Henley Royal Regatta races downstream over a virtually straight 2000m course from Temple Island. I assume champagne takes as much importance as rowing. Anyhow I could see the Temple over 1mile ahead of me for the next up river section. Exclusive houses lined the route. At the bend before Hambleden Lock was Greenlands Mansion  once owned by W H Smith of newsagent fame, it is now  the business faculty of Reading University and very nice too. There is a plaque on the lock commemorating the first ever boar race in 1829.

I was diverted, yet again, away from the river into the little village of Aston and then into the Culham Estate. I don’t know what goes on here but they don’t really want you there, lots of officious signs and cameras in trees, woe betide if you step off the path – I expect you would be shot. There is a big house in the grounds and something that looks like a mausoleum on the hill. The deer seem to be white. The sky is full of free flying kites.

Eventually back on the river I escape from the estate and conversely walk through a humble caravan site. Above on the opposite escarpment is a large ostentatious white building, Danesfield House, now a hotel I could have stayed in for £300.

I walk into the quiet village of Hurley to my more modest evening in the 800yr old The Olde Bell, still costing an arm and a leg. The church had been a priory and the whole village has a monastic feel to it. One of the quietest and most delightful villages on the Thames so far.

A jolly evening was spent in the bar of The Olde Bell.

*****

Pangbourne – Reading – Sonning.

I was a little apprehensive about today as the map showed mainly the city of Reading. The morning was also rather dull but I was soon on my way along the meadows by the river, a popular promenade for the Pangbourne dog walkers. Out into the flat countryside the railway was still very close and regular GWR trains flashed by, this continued all day. The trees being leafless showed up the balls of parasitic mistletoe which grows well in the south.

The latest craze of children painting stones and leaving them to be found has reached the Thames.

Hardwick House across the river is thought to have been an inspiration for the illustrations to Wind in the Willows. Mapledurham is a picturesque hamlet inaccessible on the far bank further on. The weir here, as others, has a fish ladder incorporated surprisingly only since the late 20th century. According to plaques they seemed to have been installed with the aid of local sponsors. Before the locks were constructed boats were hauled up basic weirs and took their chances floating down.

A curious walk through the streets of Purley eventually came back to the river and railway at Tilehurst. People are living on boats moored up along the next stretch as they can cycle the towpath, I was disappointed by the amount of rubbish some of them left.

A promenade led towards the outskirts of Reading. At Caversham Bridge I braved the traffic to reach a great little ‘transport’ cafe I’d been recommended, The Gorge. It was worth it for the usual tea and teacake. More of the same promenade continued through parks with varied architecture on view. The junction with the River Kennet was crossed on a horse shoe bridge. That route gives a link into the Kennet and Avon canal system. I passed a Tescos just as a couple appeared with their shopping bags and climbed into a small boat to motor back to their marina base, brilliant. Benches along the way had Thames related poems and stories inscribed.

Tesco shopping at its best.

The suburbs were left and rural walking resumed. Passing by the extensive  grounds of Reading Bluecoat School there was this poignant gate in memory of a drowned master. Sonning was a pretty village, lots of old cottages and an interesting church. Flint is used a lot in the walls. Next to the church is a Lutyens house with a Gertrude Jekyll garden but unfortunately hidden by high walls.

Staying at a The Great House tonight. The accommodation was superb but the dining arrangements poor. One big noisy party room full of pretentious diners and out on the terrace were plastic igloos for some sort of experience, I think food comes second here, who in their right mind would sit in a plastic dome all evening?

At 11pm the phone rang ” This the Olde Bell – are you coming to us tonight?”
“No I’m at The Great House in Sonning, I’m with you tomorrow night.”
I’d mixed up my dates but they were very understanding and re-booked me, fortunately without charge.
Of course when I did arrive the following night there was much hilarity at my mistake.

*****

                                                                Distant Dorchester Abbey.

Clifton Hampden – Dorchester – Wallingford.

In May 2016 Mel and I enjoyed a lovely few days walking from the source of the Thames to here. It is with some sadness that I am continuing alone. Mel’s health has deteriorated further and he probably won’t be tackling anything strenuous in future.  My plan is a few more days on the route before visiting him and his wife. I will need some good photos to show them.

Getting back to the thatched village of Clifton Hampden was not as easy as expected, since we were here they have stopped the bus from Abingdon. This hasn’t pleased the locals and I wasn’t that happy about forking out £10 for a taxi.

The day is murky, the Thames is running high but without flooding. The paths are muddy as the recent snow melts. I soon get back into stride alongside the river. There are few people about but within a mile I stop for a chat with a friendly couple walking up the Thames. She’s from Finland and he’s from Oregon they make an interesting pair and have travelled the world including sailing round it!

The moles are on the march also…

Ahead are the Sinodun chalk hills capped by ancient beech trees hence the name Wittenham Clumps, They also were known as Mother Dunch’s Buttocks, named after an unpopular local lady who was Oliver Cromwell’s aunt.  An Iron Age fort tops one of them and there have been other Bronze age and Roman discoveries.

Wittenham Clumps.

In the distance is Didcot power station a landmark we had  passed on the previous trip. It has the unenviable history of a collapse being prepared for demolition in 2016 killing 4 men, Grimly it took 6 months for their bodies to be recovered.

A little further and it’s the first Lock, Days Lock. An environment employee is checking the state of the river, there has been a red warning when no boats are allowed to move as the current is too strong. A vast amount of water is coming through the weir gates where they can regulate the flow to help prevent flooding.

The name Dorchester-on-Thames conjures up a vision of an ancient Wessex city. Iron Age Dykes partially surround it and are very obvious on the ground. It was a Roman town on the navigable river and later a Christian centre with an important Abbey.

Iron Age Dykes.

So I thought I’d better make the short diversion to have a look around. The place was so sleepy, presumably a commuting town now, the shop had closed, the cafe was shut and the old coaching inns had few customers. The highlight was the Abbey.

Back on the river for a while before being diverted annoyingly away onto the busy main road into Shillingford. Here by an old wharf is a wall charting flood levels – 1809, the highest, was about 8ft whilst 1768 beat 1947. Global warming or natural variation. You may need to click for clarity.

Near by some tree surgeons were in death defying situations.

A quiet stretch of river led to a busy mini marina at Benson Lock. The Waterfront Cafe here provided tea and teacakes. It even provided blankets for those wanting to sit outside in the hazy sunshine. Actually that sunshine was stronger than I thought and by the end of the day I was looking a bit red and going to the chemist for sunblock which I hadn’t brought.

It was just a stroll into Wallingford past the remains of a former Norman castle, later a Royalist stronghold eventually destroyed by Cromwell. There is a lot of history in this area. The town, once the largest Saxon fortified town in England, was full of interesting old buildings. A good start to a few days walking.

Seen along the way  – many wartime pill boxes defending us from attacks by boat, the first of many ornate boat houses, the first of very many Red Kites.

My airbnb was a time warp of 60’s music and a shrine to Dusty Springfield [more of her later].

*****