I make the 6 am train despite a fine evening sorting out the world’s problems with my good friend, Mike Ward, involving several beers and a bottle of wine. More impressive, I don’t fall asleep and miss any of my interchange stops. Rather nice to roll into Marlow with an announcement for the Thames National Trail.
I’m not at my best for walking but the fresh air will revive me. Passing Temple Lock, the lock keeper warns that the next footbridge over the river is closed for safety reasons. Naturally, I have to go and check it out. Thwarted — there’s no way past the high security fence. I sheepishly trudge back through the lock, avoiding eye contact.
There’s no way I’m retracing my steps to Marlow, so work out a new route to the next river crossing at Mill End, passing through Harleyford Golf Course where the wild beasts roam.
This is a good choice as the landscape is more varied than the river path, winding through a country estate to rejoin the towpath at Medmenham.
The series of diagonal weirs at Hambleden Mill, my crossing to return to the official footpath, is one of the most beautiful spots on the trail.
A dozen red kites circle low overhead on the approach to Henley, where preparations are well underway for the Royal Regatta. Bronzed, ripped bodies stride past, fresh from rowing practice. I feel like Gulliver in Brobdingnag.
There’s a second bridge closure at Marsh Lock.
The diversion is short, but the return to the riverside is brief, as a series of mansions occupy the land down to the water’s edge, forcing me inland to Shiplake. The midday sun is fierce and a gorgeous tiny leopard is as crazy as I am, spurning the shade.
Houseboats hug the riverbank, sometimes hidden in the long grass, gradually expanding onto the land, with an assortment of chairs, plants, bicycles and rusting machinery — an aquatic Nomadland.
Reading is my final destination, where the plunging water at Caversham Weir drives two Archimedes screw turbines to generate electricity for a local community project.
A cygnet swims in the pretty pond above the turbines, chasing its parents – feed me!
Good things come to those who wait …
I’m hot and sweaty after 20 miles in the scorching sun. The early morning hangover is long forgotten, and the Alehouse is recommended in my CAMRA guide. Heavy metal and real ale — a perfect ending for this phase of the Thames Path. Back to the coast path next week!
Walk distance: 20 miles.
Total distance: 107 miles.
Great write up. I walked part of this route a few years ago, and it really is lovely. The bridges were open at the time. I was irritated by the diversion due to private gardens too.
Thanks Ruth. Very picture postcard and not a hill in sight!
Ah, this is the part of the world I grew up in.
The Alehouse – previously (1993-2010) the Hobgoblin and, before that (1864-1992) the London Tavern and, before that, the Cock – has been there for centuries and is the last survivor of a whole bunch of pubs that used to be in central Reading but have long since gone. Arguably, it alone has survived because it was the best of them. As one of its names gives away, it was from there that coaches departed to London in the days before railways became a thing.
Love the tiny leopard!
Thanks for the background. It had a great vibe and excellent ale. My sort of place.