Author: kurtwiese

It was a long day today. It was so long that my sport watch tracking our walks reset itself. According to my phone, which is less reliable than the watch, we walked 14 miles.

And mistakes are being made, a sure sign that fatigue has set in.

I booked tickets for a London musical two nights ago and forwarded the tickets to Anne, who pointed out that they were for that very night.  I should have booked them for the following week, when we’re actually in London.  

This morning I searched everywhere for a lost sock. Anne suggested that I check my feet. I had pulled both socks onto the same foot.

And I lost one of my water bottles somewhere on the trail today.

We left our hotel in Eton—the hotel is the pink building to the right of Anne, the George—

And walked over the bridge to Windsor.

We looked into taking a ferry down the river today. But the timing didn’t work. The only down-river ferry left late in the afternoon.

Maybe a train ride? Anne seemed a little sad that we didn’t explore that option.

The walk along the river today was varied.

Just out of Windsor, we walked through a woods with views back towards the castle.

There were gorgeous stretches of the river.

There were diversions off the Path into gritty urban areas caused by bridge closures.

The walk’s infrastructure needs refreshing. A lot of bridges are out, in some cases it seems for many years. Many of the signs marking the Path are old and faded. Many are missing. On too many occasions we have missed turns or taken the wrong turn because a sign is missing. We rely a lot on the All Trails app for directions. Without the app, it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to navigate the Path.

Half way through today’s walk we went through Runnymede, the meadow where the Magna Carta was signed.

Reading the inscription on the Magna Carta memorial and realizing how ancient yet how imperiled these values are today was sobering.

Sobering too to reflect on the hundreds of thousands of lives lost to upholding those values and the sad fact that the fight is never over.

Tomorrow we are headed for Hampton Court. We’re both exhausted. Hopefully we’ll feel refreshed in the morning.

We didn’t rush to Windsor to see the castle. We walked at an even pace. But it was a long walk, about 9.5 miles, and once we got to Windsor, we couldn’t help ourselves, we had to see the whole castle. It’s a big castle with a lot of rooms. There’s a lot to see. And now we’re both really tired.

The inn in Cookham where we spent the night was very pleasant.

After leaving Cookham, the Path went through a woods.

Near Maidenhead, the Path was back on the river, along perhaps the most beautiful stretch we have walked along.

It was along this stretch that we met a young woman who has been walking sections of the Thames Path, a different section every year. She said it will take another few years before she has pieced together the entire Path. This is the approach that the other hikers on the Path take. They walk day-long sections of the Path, usually in the most beautiful areas. We have yet to meet anyone walking the entire Path.

While we walking near the center of Maidenhead, we came upon a ferry boat bound for Windsor taking on passengers. This is not the boat. But it’s similar.

Anne paused at the ferry boat and thought for a moment. We had walked more than ten consecutive days. We are tired. But the walk we were on through Maidenhead was very beautiful. Anne decided we should continue walking.

That was a major miscalculation. After about a mile, we were back in the trees, with little view of the river.

Occasionally there was a break in the foliage and we could see the other bank of the river.

But for most of today’s walk we were in a long green tunnel.

Just before reaching Windsor we walked out of the trees into a meadow and saw the castle in the distance.

We also saw where the passenger ferries are docked. I expect that there is a boat ride down the Thames in our near future.  

It was another long day of walking, almost 14 miles.

We got an early start from the very pleasant inn in the village of Hambleton where we spent the night.

There was a bakery in the small village—the gods were smiling on us today!—and we picked up snacks for the walk.

This is the abbey in the center of Hambleton. 

There is a militaristic strain in Christianity, from the Crusades to Pope Julius II leading a Papal army into battle. But churches as fortresses? What are the turrets for? Pouring hot oil down onto the heads of attacking infidels?

We walked from Hambleton back to the river and crossed at the Hambleton Lock.

We were back in the countryside. But the flowers are different. The white flowers are daisies and the purple are a variety of orchid. 

And thankfully our sneezing and stuffiness has disappeared. In fact, we are both feeling good overall. The first few days were tough. But we’re now in good walking shape.

Today’s walk took us through a park with a herd of white deer. Here’s one of them.

We walked through several villages today because several bridges over the Thames are out and the walk is diverted away from the river. The diversions started with long walks on roads. 

At the end of the diversion, we walked over a bridge into the town of Marlow.

And then back over the river on a footpath on a railroad bridge at Bourne End.

It was a short walk from the railroad bridge to our hotel in Cookham. It was a long walk today, and we’re both pretty tired. But tomorrow is short, and we end up in Windsor, where we’re looking forward to seeing Windsor Castle. But no rushing!

Yesterday was the worst of times and if not the best of times it was at least pretty good times.

The worst came first. 

At the end of yesterday’s walk into Reading we left the Path and walked to our hotel in the center of town.  On our way to our hotel we saw two tents under a bridge jammed with clothes and pots and pans. We saw abandoned buildings with boarded up windows. The stone buildings in the center of Reading were black and grey with soot. 

Our hotel fit in perfectly with its bleak surroundings. It was old and dingy. I dragged our suitcases up two flights of narrow stairs. In our hotel room a large patch carpet in the middle of the room was torn away. The furniture was worn and mismatched. The mattress was lumpy. The room needed a good scrubbing. Compounding our misery was off-key karaoke singing blasting from the hotel bar until midnight.

There was good in Reading as well. We had a surprisingly good dinner in a lovely restaurant just blocks from our hotel.

On our way out of Reading this morning we walked by Reading Abbey, formerly Reading Monastery.

During the Dissolution of the Monasteries, a kind of 16th century DOGE, Henry VIII destroyed Reading Monastery and executed the monastery head by hanging, drawing, and quartering him outside the monastery gate. A historical example of a leader bent on destroying institutions and perceived enemies.

Back on the trail outside Reading we saw rowers on the Thames.

We passed by the village of Sonner. 

We almost never walk through the villages on the Thames, which are almost always perpendicular to the river and not along it.

There are many gorgeous houses along this stretch of the Thames. This is one outside the town of Shiplake.

The Thames Path is closed along the river outside Shiplake and diverted inland. Our hotel booker recommended that we get on the train in Shiplake and take it to Henley to avoid a not-very-pleasant two-mile walk. Which we did. 

Henley was preparing for its big rowing regatta. Even though the regatta is more than a month away, preparations were in full swing. On the right, you can see competitors’ tents being set up.

The river is unusually straight for over two miles outside of Henley. Perfect for rowing.

Along the race course was Fawley Court, also said to have inspired Toad Hall.

Temple Island is at the end of the long straight stretch of river and at start of the regatta’s race course.

Our lodgings are in the village of Hambleden, which is a mile from the river. We crossed the river at the Hambleden Locks and walked up a valley to the village.

We walked almost 12.5 miles today, including the walk from the river to Hambleden. We are both feeling pretty good. We have worked out a routine—walk for a couple hours, stop, stretch, and have a snack. It seems to be working pretty well. We both have some minor aches and pains. We hope that they stay minor and don’t flare up into something more serious. 

We were up and out the door of our hotel early this morning.

 

There is rain in the forecast, and we want to finish up our walk before the rain hits.

There is a large group of women facing Anne and standing behind me while I take her picture who are talking about the weather. I heard one of them say to her friend, referring to Anne, that poor woman—I hear there’s rain today. Yes, said her friend, such a lovely woman, she should be sitting at a palazzo somewhere sunny and warm instead of trooping through the mud in this beastly weather. She’s obviously lost control of her relationship. Her friend clucked in agreement and in sympathy for Anne.

It rained earlier than expected. We walked up into the woods beside the river in the rain, the first climb on the trip. 

We walked over the toll bridge at Whitchurch, one of only two remaining toll bridges on the Thames. No tolls for walkers though.

We saw houses by the river. This one in Mapledurham, about half way through today’s walk, is said to be the model for Toad Hall in The Wind In the Willows.  The owner’s great-grandfather is said to be the model for Mr. Toad. He must have been tall and very handsome.

We came upon this house just outside Reading.

We walked about 13 miles today, including the half mile at the end of our trip through downtown Reading to reach our hotel. We’re both pretty tired. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was the climbing. Good weather is forecast for tomorrow, and the walk is flat. So we are hoping for the best.

Day 8—Dorchester to Streatley

We had a wonderful stay in Dorchester. The inn was comfortable and the food was very good.

Dorchester is a very old village. Many of the building have thatched roofs.

During our stay, Dorchester was hosting the English Music Festival. We met a festival goer at dinner, the Recruitment Secretary of the Vaughn Williams Society. He gave us a complementary copy of the Society’s latest journal. He was in town for the festival with his wife, the author of steamy romance novels (her words). We enjoyed talking with the two of them. Anne and I would have  also enjoyed attending the choral music performance that night at the local abbey featuring Vaughn Williams. But we opted for an early night after our long hike. 

Our conversations with the locals have been pretty limited. Their standoffishness was confirmed for us to by two men that were sitting at the table next to ours at dinner in Abingdon, with whom we struck up a conversation. At one point they asked if we found people in England to be friendly. When we hesitated, they nodded and said that it was because we were in the south of England. They were from the north and said that the south of England is an unfriendly place. They predicted, correctly, that we hadn’t conversed much with the locals. They advised us to immediately head north.

We stopped by Dorchester Abbey on our way out of town.

After several miles of walking, we came to Benson Lock and a ferry across the Thames.

We had to take the ferry because a bridge is out. It’s hard to see, but the ferryman is wearing a Green Bay Packers cap. He replied enthusiastically when I asked if he was a Packers fan. He had spent time in Chippewa Falls many years ago with his former job and had remained a Packers loyalist, maybe the only one in Benson Lock.

When we got to the ferry landing, the boat was on the other shore. Near the ferry landing were two docks, one with a sign for the ferry.  Anne went and stood by the dock with the sign. I pointed out that the dock she was standing beside was too small for the ferry and that she should stand with me by the longer dock. She gave me a look. The ferry arrived and pulled up to the dock beside Anne. We both started laughing as I walked over to Anne’s dock. A woman standing nearby looked at us quizzically, I explained my mistake to her. She looked at Anne and said, he’ll learn. Anne said, no he won’t.

There are more villages on this part of the Thames. We walked through several of them today.

We passed by another old church.

The walk today was 12.5 miles. But we both feel pretty good. At the hotel in Dorchester, the food and beverage manager had graciously carried our bags upstairs to our room. My back felt a lot better today.

Today should have been a leisurely 8 mile day allowing us a bit of rest. Instead, we walked almost 13 miles.

Before explaining how our walk went off the tracks today, please understand that  Anne and I have very different navigational styles. Anne is careful. I am not. I pride myself on my strong sense of direction. Anne, on the other hand, has the uncanny ability to always head in the wrong direction, whether on exiting a room or turning at a street corner.  She, however, has acknowledged her directional shortcomings and has overcome them by becoming adapt at reading maps. I have compounded my directional lack of care by larding over it with a pile of hubris. When Anne pulls out her phone and starts looking at the map, I roll my eyes. We are just wasting time. I know which way to go.

You can probably see where this is going. Below is screenshot of the track of the first part of today’s walk.

It has a few meanders before heading off in a big circle around the Abbey Meadow. The meandering and circling is me. Anne grudgingly followed, at first. Because when she pulled out her phone and pulled up a map, I become peevish, with a how-dare-you-question-me attitude. At some point, though, she’d had enough. And I saw, with growing alarm, that we were approaching the turn off to our hotel, where we had begun our walk.  

All I could do is apologize. It’s amazing that Anne still talks to me.

The rest of the walk, if a little long, was at least pleasant.

We saw a statue of Queen Victoria in Abbey Park.

Anne is laughing because Mason the unruly Golden Retriever has just jumped on me. Queen Victoria keeps a stiff upper lip.

We saw a sailboat on the river.

An awfully big boat for such a narrow body of water.

We walked through hay-fever-inducing fields.

We saw some beautiful sights along the river, including Abingdon Abbey.

And the Clifton Hampden Bridge.

Close to the end today’s walk, we popped into a pub, the Barley Mow for a quick drink (mineral water). 

The pub, which dates back to the 14th century, figures in a comedic novel that Anne is reading, Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome. The book is about a boat trip up the Thames and the buffoonish misadventures of the three men in the boat. Anne openly guffaws when reading the book. I can only hope that she will continue to regard my buffoonery with the same good humor. 

Anne and I got to bed early last night, slept well, woke up refreshed, and took a quick walk around Oxford, taking in the medieval architecture, the gardens, and the crowds.

After our whirlwind tour, we started off from our hotel and down the path in high spirits.

My only pain is a sharp backache due to hauling our suitcases up flights of stairs to our hotel rooms. None of the hotels have elevators. And our hotel rooms are always on the very top floor, which in Oxford was up two flights of narrow, twisty stairs. Not only are our rooms on the top floor. In one of the hotels the room was in very bad location. In Abington, our window looked out onto the hotel’s dumpsters, which were just a few feet away from our window. Crashing dumpster lids startled us as we were falling asleep and woke us in the morning.

The problems with the hotel rooms are part of a larger problem that I am being forced to confront. My dawning awareness of this larger problem came as Anne and I boarded the plane in Los Angeles to fly to London. There were two flight attendants to greet us when we got on the plane, one on either side of the plane’s entrance. They were directing passengers, either to the left, to the front of the plane, or to the right, to the back of the plane. When we stepped on the plane, a stewardess looked at us, smiled, and directed us to the left, to the front of the plane. Her partner quickly corrected her and directed us to the right, to the back of the plane. The first stewardess looked at us again, puzzled. When we got to our seats, we couldn’t help but notice that we were decades older than our seat mates at the back of the plane. They, with the vigor of youth, could recover easily from sitting curled up like a pretzel for ten hours in a cramped airplane seat. Anne and I on the other hand, hobbled off the plane in London.

Less-than-ideal hotel rooms at the top of the stairs are another symptom of this problem. When choosing a company for booking our trip, I went with the low cost provider. I justified my choice because the company is small, a husband and wife operation. But Anne and I are too old for the back of airplanes, narrow twisty flights of stairs, and crashing dumpster lid serenades.

Anne discovered that water taxis begin servicing the Thames starting at Oxford. She seemed a little wistful as one passed us heading downriver. 

On this part of the river, many of the banks are swampy and overgrown.

Our walk today was short, 8.25 miles. We needed a bit of a rest, and we got one. Even better, we are looking forward to another short walk tomorrow, about 8.5 miles. After that, we should be well rested and in good shape for the rest of the walk.

Mistakes were made today. And we paid the price.

Our first mistake: out of an abundance of civility, really an overabundance of civility, Anne and I ordered the fish and chips that our hostess at the Ferryman had recommended for dinner last night. That night, we both tossed and turned, unaccustomed to the digestive demands of fried fish and potatoes.

Compounding our discomfort was a very lumpy mattress.

And then there was musty odor.

Did I mention that the Ferryman is right on the river?  As our host mentioned to us at dinner last night, although the Inn doesn’t flood when the Thames is even at its highest, the building constantly “wicks up” water from the river. All that water and wicking makes for a very musty environment.

I make these complaints grudgingly because the innkeepers were delightful. They couldn’t have been more accommodating. But there were difficulties.

Our second mistake: although Anne and I have enjoyed immensely the past four days walking in the countryside, communing with the river, plants, and farm animals, we were excited to visit Oxford and see the buildings, museums, and gardens. And so we hurried along the Path, walking fast. We skipped lunch, passing up a pub for what we believed would be better choices in Oxford. 

Just as we arrived in Oxford, Anne crashed. She struggled all of the mile walk that it took to reach our hotel. I thought I might need to hail an Uber.  Anne now has no interest in seeing the city’s sights. 

The walk today was again largely through countryside. 

The river has widened at this point in its journey.

Just outside Oxford, we passed by the ruins of a nunnery at Godstow, the place of God. Rosamund, Henry II’s lover, spent the last years of her life here. Rumor has it that she died from poisoning by Henry’s wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine.

We saw houseboats on the Thames near Godstow named Rosamund and Fair Rosamund.

We had an early dinner at our hotel and plan to turn in early. With a rest and a good night’s sleep perhaps we’ll have an early tour of Oxford before setting off on the Path tomorrow.

We slept well last night at the Trout.
Our minor aches and pains have remained just that for the time being.

We are still walking through a lot of farmland.

The river is still quite narrow, and the banks are overgrown with trees and bushes.

The trees and bushes and flowers are all blooming. We can see pollen and seeds floating through the air.

And everyone is sneezing, including Anne and me. Our noses have become stuffier with each day on the Path.

Every few miles, we arrive at a lock on the river, and a lock house. 

The locks are operated by hand. Long poles swing open and shut large wooden doors at either end of the lock to contain and release water from the lock. 

Some locks have lock masters overseeing this operation. Some don’t, and we have seen boaters jump out of their boats and swing open the locks to let their boats in.

We had another long walk today, almost 12 miles but we feel pretty good. We are spending the night at the Ferryman an inn right on the river, and the site of a now defunct ferry. There is a lovely view of the river from our window.