Tuesday 2nd May 2017 Tilehurst - Benson
Through the Goring Gap
It looked
like the start of a glorious week of weather, wall to wall sunshine on the
local weather-site. Before I donned shorts and threw out my gloves, I should
have looked at the weather for the south of England. One of the oddities of the
railway ticketing system is that slit-ticketing can substantially reduce the
cost of travel. So I found myself having a quick cappuccino on Wolverhampton
Station whilst travelling to Tilehurst, my finishing point back in March when I
walked the first half of the Thames Path. All my connections worked perfectly and
at 12.27 my Great Western train dropped me on a deserted platform at Tilehurst.
With no distractions to deflect me, I set off straight away.
Continuing
on the other side of the river, the way was less attractive. At Moulsford, the
route is pushed onto a busy road, particular at school finishing time where a
rather aggressive breed of Chelsea tractors threatened my life at every school
entrance. I was relieved to get under the railway and back onto a quiet
riverside path up to Wallingford. I did not see much of the village as the signed
route avoided the centre. And I was in no mood for looking around. The clouds
looked threatening and a cold wind had blown up. It began to drizzle on the
next and last section of the day and I arrived in Benson with waterproofs on and
umbrella in hand. I was directed by a local man towards the village centre and
my accommodation for the night.
Tilehurst
Station, dep. 12.28, Benson, arr. 18.20
GPS 17.01 miles in 5hr 27m 35s
I stayed at
the Crown Inn in High Street, Benson. This is tied to the Greene King empire
but is allowed one ‘guest’ beer at any time. This was Old Hoppy Hen (4.2%) from
the Morland Brewery label. This was originally an Abingdon brewery, but Greene
King bought and closed it and Morland beers are now brewed in Suffolk. The
eating area in the pub is run as a separate business, the Crown Thai, owned by
a Thai lady. I enjoyed a starter of sticky pork spare ribs and a main of duck
with coconut rice. And I could pop round to the bar to keep my fluids up.
Wednesday 3rd May 2017 Benson - Oxford
A Footbridge Too Far
It was
mighty cold when I stepped out of the back door of the pub. I felt rather
exposed in my shorts and I wished that I had my gloves with me. But the best
way to keep warm is to keep moving so I retraced my steps through the village
and quickly gained the riverside path passed the Waterfront café and marina. In
no time at all, I was photographing Shillingford Bridge, photos that did not
come out too well in the gloom. The exit from the village was via a long
section of very busy road. The two road crossings took time and patience. I was
glad when I spotted the gap in the opposite hedge which indicated a route to
quieter climes.
On the long
loop around Dorchester, I finally felt warm and I kept up a good pace after
crossing the weir and striding out over the meadows and rough pastures towards
Clifton. A section where the river had been straightened to improve navigation
finished with another weir. Then there was a rather boring tramp across
flatland and under a railway. At Culham the path ran along another cut or
canalised reach. Finally I came to the big bend in the river where it turns
north and then eastwards, apparently the wrong way. At the crest of this loop
lay the lovely town of Abingdon. I felt a real buzz as I passed signs for free
mooring and notices for free parking. Abingdon seems to welcome you. And what
better welcome than to cross the bridge and find a Costa coffee shop. So it was
out with the loyalty card and in for a panini and cappuccino.
The section
after lunch was really delightful, a good path along gently wooded banks. Here
I met a guy from Solihull who was an experienced long distance walker. We could
have chatted all afternoon but I still had some way to go. So off I tramped and
was really please with my pace and the time schedule that this provided. Then
it all fell apart. To the north of Sandiford Lock, I came up to a group of
workmen who claimed to be moving a footbridge to accommodate some new
hydro-generators. They would not allow me to cross even though the bridge was
still in place. They referred me to some closure signs back at the lock and I,
by now in a foul mood, retraced my steps. The lock-keeper, who had watched me
pass by earlier without alerting me to the closure, helped me find a diversion
map on a fence behind a parked bicycle. It was not obvious. I then returned
even further down the trail to the point of the so called diversion. There was
no diversion or closure sign, only a card pinned to a fence not visible to
someone coming from the south .The diversion route lay along a narrow cycle
track with fast moving bicycles flying passed in both directions. I was not a
happy bunny. This had cost me over 1½ mile extra on what was already a long
day. And added a half hour to my schedule!
It was
rather depressing to see a traffic jam on Donnington Bridge, my exit point to
Oxford. It was a rapid return to reality after the remoteness of the Thames
Path. I cut up a cycle way passed a school to reach Iffley Road and my guest
house for the night.
Benson dep. 08.58,
Oxford arr. 17.05 GPS 22.70 miles in 7hrs
38m 50s moving plus a 30 minute café stop at Costa Coffee in Abingdon (13.12-13.42)..
I stayed at
the Cherwell Guest House in Iffley Road, Oxford near the track where Roger
Bannister did the first sub-4 minute mile. I ate at the Cape of Good Hope pub
where I was so hungry that, after my fish and chips, I had sticky toffee
pudding as well. The beers were Oakham Scarlet Macaw (4.4%) and Horns (Wandsworth)
Hop Air Balloon (4.2%). It was raining as I walked back to the guest house.
Thursday 4th May 2017 Oxford – Tadpole Bridge
No Ferryman at the Inn
It was so
cold again next morning but although the skies were dark grey, it was not raining.
This was made worse by news from the north of cloudless skies and wall to wall
sunshine. I joined the school run feeling rather self-conscious in my shorts
with all the kids wrapped up in winter gear. There was still lots of traffic on
Donnington Bridge but I dropped down onto the quiet riverside path with the
city noises despatched into the distance. It was rather interesting walking
through the city centre, looking into the backs of properties old and new. The
river wound round the centre and passed a set of terrace houses. A short
diversion round a construction site was this time well signed.
Eventually
and gradually, I came out into open countryside, and there was a long section
of grassy water meadows enabling me to get up to speed for the long day ahead.
The weather improved and, by the time I came to Kings Lock, the northernmost
point of the Thames, I was peeling off the layers of clothing. A wooded
hillside dominated the southern aspect and the trail squeezed onto a woodland
path around its north ridge. Swinford Bridge was a lovely sight but I needed a
coffee shop more than good views. There was a short section on road to bypass a
boatyard and then I crossed the river at Pinkhill Lock. Here I fell into step
with a man and his dog. Together we headed away from the river across grassy
meadows until he realised he could not make a circular walk and had to turn
back. He had informed me that there was no foot ferry at Bablock Hythe and he
was not sure whether the pub was still open. I was disappointed as I was by now
getting desperate for a lunch stop. So
it was with some relief that, after a very long section away from the river, I
walked into the car park of the Ferryman Inn to find it busy with lunchtime
trade. I collapsed into a corner seat and enjoyed a pint of real ale whilst my
lunch was being prepared.
The
afternoon session drifted by in a haze of paths and meadows. Newbridge looked a
picture with its two pubs, one serving coffee and cake. But it was too soon to
stop again so I embarked on a seven-mile stretch of river that was remote and
lonely. I saw no-one for two hours and very little sign of any habitation. The
only signs of mankind were the pill boxes and tall wooden footbridges,
including Ten Foot Bridge. It was hard to believe that I was in the crowded and
over-populated south of England. All good things come to an end and eventually
I saw Tadpole Bridge ahead and this I had to cross to reach my hotel. It was
the end of another long but splendid day.
Oxford dep.
08.40, Tadpole Bridge arr. 17.10, GPS 23.04 miles in 7hrs 47m 56s walking time plus
a 40-minute stop in the Ferryman Inn at Bablock Hythe. Here I had a ham &
brie baguette and a pint of Wadworth Horizon (4.0%).
My hotel was the Trout at Tadpole Bridge where I was given a
lovely bedroom in an out-building. I ate pork belly and black pudding which was
very ordinary considering the price and reputation of the pub. I tried the
Trout Bitter (3.6%) brewed for them by Ramsbury Brewery near Marlborough. I
then homed in on Recoil (4.2%) from Loose Cannon, a genuine Abingdon Brewery.
This was a wonderful ale (score of 9/10) which impressed me so much that, when
the dessert menu failed to tempt me, I went liquid.
Friday 5th May 2017 Tadpole Bridge – Cricklade
Head of Navigation
For the
first time all week I woke to sunshine and, after my only full English
breakfast of the trip, I set off under sun-cream and a sun-hat. Radcot Bridge
was little over an hour upstream passed more pill boxes and Old Man’s Bridge.
The Swan at Radcot no longer provides accommodation. This is a shame because it
is in a beautiful spot, just back from the river in a wooded setting. The next
feature was Kelscott Manor, another hour up the trail. I could see the old house
through the trees but I had another long day planned and I was in no mood for
sightseeing. I was momentarily off route near Buscot locks failing to find any
signage over a wooden bridge and, even when I corrected this error, I found
myself having to crawl commando-style under an electric fence. At the locks
there was a notice board tempting me to turn into Buscot village to a tea shop.
But I had bigger fish to fry. I was heading to the flesh pots of Lechlade where
I knew of a café near the river. Lechlade looked a picture in the sunshine as I
approached across the riverside meadows. I turned over the bridge and found my
café in the pub car park down to my left.
The
afternoon section in no way matched the morning’s. A long loop round to
Inglesham church took me passed the confluence with the River Coln and the head
of navigation on the Thames. Then it was out onto a very busy main road for a
mile and a half. The lack of pavement meant that the walker was expected to
crawl along a narrow grass verge, very poor for a national trail. Surely a
fenced strip in the adjoining field could be negotiated. At last I was able to
turn off this awful highway and head back towards the river. The route followed
hard and dusty farm tracks for a couple of miles before picking up a tarmacked
lane into Castle Eaton. The pub was closed. In fact the whole village seemed to
be on siesta. So it came as a surprise to see a young mum pushing her buggy at
high speed towards me. It is not just bicycles that go off road nowadays. I met
a couple from Florida walking the opposite way to me. They had just finished
the Cotswold Way and wanted a few extra days walking.
I pressed on
now with the end in sight. I could see the tower of Cricklade church ahead of
me, and I had only to pass under the bypass and across a few fields full of dog
walkers and I was in the village searching for my accommodation. The Old Bear
was at the top end of the High Street and the door was bolted and barred. I
found my way round the back into the carpark and knocked up the owner who
booked me in and showed me to a very nice room.
Tadpole
Bridge dep. 08.55, Cricklade arr. 16.40, GPS 23.30 miles in 7hrs 30m 36s
walking time plus a 30 min (12.20-12.50) stop at the Tea Chest Café in
Lechlade. Banana cake covered in chocolate was the order of the day.
After a
shower, I wandered back down High Street to the Red Lion and entered
pandemonium. The place was heaving and, after I had grabbed a pint of Lode Star
(4.5%), (Hop Kettle Brewery was run by the owner of the pub), I begged to join
a table with one spare seat. The restaurant at the back of the bar opened at
6.30pm so I reserved a table and was seated in a much quieter room as soon as
it opened. Here I had my best meal of the whole trip, lamb rump cooked to
perfection. The chef was so good that I tried his dessert of toffee sponge and
it did not disappoint. Add to this my discovery of North Wall (4.2%) again from
Hop Kettle and I went back up to the Old Bear a very happy man.
Saturday 6th May 2017 Cricklade – Thames Head - Kemble
The Source of the Problem
With no
breakfast booked at the pub, I was able to make an early getaway. By 8am I was
letting myself out of the back gate and round into Cricklade High Street, not
busy at this ungodly hour on a weekend. Stacey’s Kitchen was open and frying,
so I popped in for a bacon butty. And before 8.30am I was passing the old
Catholic Church and seeking the route out of town. I was concentrating today on
the navigation. There was precious little signage and I could afford no
mistakes today with a train to catch.
For this, my
last day, I had no great expectations. The Thames was just a small stream and
seemed on the map to disappear into vast lakes and reservoirs. However it
turned out to be one of the most delightful sections of the whole trail. Open
pasture led me into Cotswold Water Park where a series of well-kept tracks
weaved round the lakes, leaving the river temporarily but providing lovely
views over the water. Eventually I came out into the playing fields on Ashton
Keynes and again had to be careful with route-finding through the village. Then
there was a lovely section along the river as it burbled through woodland that
hid the surrounding lakes. This went right through to the village of Ewen where
there was a mile beside a road.
Then the
world got positively lumpy. I was conscious for the first time in 180 miles
that I was walking uphill. Here at last were the Cotswold Hills, sloping
sheep-grazed pastureland. The sun came out to celebrate and I felt warm enough
to take off my pullover. The river bed was now a parched channel with a trickle
of water at its core. Just before the Fosse Way, this disappeared altogether,
the embankment for the road severing any sign of the ditch. This would have
been a more natural end to the trail. Instead I had to risk the road crossing
with its high speed traffic on this narrow and straight section of highway.
Then I pressed on over a rather uninviting field on a vague grassy track that
led to a gate. And there I could see the end. At the far side of the field, up
against a wooded hillside, was a light-coloured stone monolith gleaming in the
sunlight. And next to it stood a finger-post that told me I was 184 miles away
from the Thames Barrier and the start of my adventure. The writing on the stone
was difficult to read. It stood like a small version of the magic stone in 2001
A Space Odyssey, but instead of it announcing the birth of humanity, it marked
the birth of a river. I had a bite to eat and drank my spare water. It was time
to go home.
I turned and
retraced by steps to the Fosse Way and then took a more direct line down the
next field to the Kemble Path. I was soon at the station buying my ticket and
then standing on a crowded platform filled with Gloucester supporters on their
way to the last match of the season. An hour later I was in a coffee shop near
Cheltenham Spa Station, The Green Coffee Machine, awaiting my train back to the
sunny north.
Cricklade dep.
08.25, Thames Head arr. 12.30, Kemble Station 13.20
GPS 14.45 miles
in 4hrs 45m 48s walking time with a 15min stop at the Thames Head.
Aftermath
I walked a
total of 98 mile over the five days, 94 of which were on the official route. The
Thames Path was my eleventh National Trail, leaving me eight more to complete. It
had provided pretty straightforward walking, pan-flat for most of the route and
reasonably well signed. Accommodation and transport were easy to arrange,
especially out of season. I was a bit aggrieved that the north of England had
had such unbroken sunshine whilst I was struggling with grey skies, drizzle and
icy cold winds, bitterly regretting my choice of shorts and no gloves. All
things considered though, it was ideal walking conditions, a following wind and
no chance of dehydration. Talking of which, I had found two more beers to rave
about.
