On Sunday 19th February 2023, a whole three months since we last trod this National Trail, Michala and I deemed the days long enough and the weather suitably reliable for us to take our next steps along the Thames Path.
Picking up where we left off previously, we parked at the Riverside Carpark, Lechlade, Gloucester and walked along the water meadows to join the path on the edge of this pretty Cotswold village.
Traversing three counties
We followed the path downstream, passing the colourful narrow boats, until we reached the Halfpenny Bridge. As we walked under the southernmost arch, we passed from Gloucestershire into Wiltshire and before long we would be in Oxfordshire too, depending on whether we were on the north or south bank of the Thames.
Thy Dim and Distant Spire
Our intention was to set off at a reasonable pace. However, as is our normal practice, we found ourselves coming to a halt but a few metres along to admire the elegant sandstone spire of St Lawrence’s Church. Even on this winter’s day there was a real sense of warmth radiating from the stone. A far cry from Shelley’s poem ‘A Summer Evening Churchyard’, with ‘thy dim and distant spire’ as the summer’s light fades ‘in duskier braids around the languid eyes of day’. Shelley thought of the ‘dead sleeping in their sepulchres’ whilst we thought of life and had a sense of awakening with the sunlit expanse before us.
“Stopline Red”
Whilst we felt energised and hopeful, we were reminded of a time when this beautiful land of ours was under threat. We passed the first of many pill boxes.
There was nothing particularly threatening about these cubes, yellowed with lichen. However, when they were first built, without a covering of gold, these blocks of concrete must have looked frighteningly ominous. They were designed as stops to ‘prevent the enemy from running riot and tearing the guts out of the country as had happened in France and Belgium’. Fortunately, they were never put to the test.
Old Father Thames
On finding Old Father Thames, chilling, as he reclined by St John’s lock, Shelley was not the only poet who was brought to mind on this day. Another poet, native to my home village, Alexander Pope, wrote Old Father Thames
‘Advanced his reverend head;
His tresses dropp’d with dews,
and o’er the stream,
His shining horns diffused a golden gleam.’
Michala and I agreed that he looked very fine with his wavey locks and distinguished beard. We lingered a while to enjoy his calming influence.
However, he had not always had it easy. He started life in Crystal Palace in the ‘Rivers and Oceans’ series in 1854. Disaster struck in 1936 when the Palace was burnt to the ground. Thankfully, Old Father Thames was rescued and eventually installed at the Thames Head beyond Kemble. However, his rough ride was not over yet. Sadly, he was vandalised in his remote location at the source. Once relocated to St John’s Lock he was now under the watchful eye of the lock keeper and kept safe from harm. You only have to look at him to see he is happier here where the river flows rather than the Thames Head where much of the year the river bed lies dry.
Meandering
So we meandered on, crossing from the left bank to right, along every twist and turn of the river and over pretty foot bridges, including Bloomers Hole Footbridge with its bank of naked trees beyond. The bridge itself looking particularly attractive in wood, hiding its steel structure beneath.
Passing more pill boxes along the way we soon arrived at Buscott Weir, a tranquil view to one side with its National Trust picnic site and the roaring waters of the weir to the other side.
Feeling Blue
There were times when we went silent, feeling soothed by the bonny blue sky high above and the river, unfurling in curls like a blue satin ribbon, as our path hugged the meanders. The calmness of the blue having a similar effect to the colour green, taking the heart rate right down. For many the colour blue symbolises hope (Latin America) and safety (Greece and Turkey providing protection from the Evil Eye). In the Ukraine it symbolises healing. In India the god Krishna is depicted with blue skin and in North America it represents trust and serenity. In Iran it symbolises paradise. We felt all of this as we walked silently, feeling positive and hopeful for the year ahead and the path in front of us. Our souls were filled as we were absorbed by the blue.
With this came the soft sway of the common reeds, their feathery flowers swaying in the breeze. Even as the sky clouded over, there was a softness and gentleness in the air as if we were insulated by the dappled fleece of the mackerel sky. A totally absorbing and immersive experience.
Our reverie only broken by the occasional boat chugging down river.
The path made its way around an ancient white poplar tree with its deeply fissured trunk, as white as cinders in a fire grate.
Heaven on Earth
Then beyond, the air was filled with the sound of corvid cries as crows nested in the tree canopies high above the gables of Kelmscott Manor where William Morris, found ‘Heaven on Earth’ and was inspired to create his wonderful textile designs.
Lazy Cats
For lunch, we sunned ourselves like lazy cats, upon the ledge of a pill box. Feeling lethargy set in as we filled our bellies and soaked up the rays. Who would have thought this was a February day.
We were not the only cats to be seen out enjoying the sun.
Shenanigans
This was just one of a number of peculiar sights to be seen along the way as our laughter rang out through the air.
A bridge gone missing. Surely the sign suggests they have found it?
A boat nose-diving like an orca.
A gate enclosing nothing. Needless to say, I opened it and walked through whereas Michala walked around. Who is the rule breaker here?
A gnome employed by the Environment Agency.
A dog called Britney in a life jacket, much more interested in the sitting ducks than smiling for the camera.
What shenanigans! It is as if we were being teased and tested.
Far from the isolated trail the guidebooks would lead you to believe, we met many more people along the way than we have met on our previous walks. The riverbanks were dotted with silent fishermen enjoying the calm and hooking a catch.
With one more lock before journey's end we stood mesmerised by the rush and roar of the water tumbling down at speed.
Then back to calm waters.
A Final Sugar Rush
As our walk neared its end at Tadpole Bridge, Michala found a perfect perch for us on a fallen tree trunk and produced a large slice each of lemon drizzle cake for a final sugar rush to keep us awake on the drive home.
Rolling Along
Michala and I look forward to meeting up again soon when, with 33.4 miles covered and a mere 150.6 to go, we will march to the steady beat of Gracie Fields, singing
“High in the hills, down in the dales
Happy and fancy free
Old Father Thames keeps rolling along
Down to the mighty sea”.
Why not take a listen to Gracie and sing along with us as we continue our adventure.
Do reading about our next leg along the Thames Path.