Still haunted by the memory of the sizzling heat of last week’s walk along the Thames National Trail, it was with some degree of trepidation that Michala and I agreed to take on a further leg of our journey along the Thames Path.
It was with a great sense of relief we walked up the slope, from the carpark at Famoor, arriving at the edge of the reservoir to face blustery winds and stormy clouds. We did not mind one bit. In fact, we welcomed the chill after the shocking heat of last week.
We were greeted by greylags, as they raced up the concrete bank to say hello. We lingered briefly, taking in the changing light as clouds scuttled across the sky. Then off we set across the causeway with the wind blowing, whistling through one ear and out the other and we wondered if we should have worn beanies. How fickle the British weather can be.
Down the opposite slope and we were out of the full throws of the wind to find a different sort of a day, serving up soft summer breezes. Our confidence was starting to restore. The voice of the gentle wind, healing us from the shock of the heat and the toll taken on our bodies from last week’s scorching temperatures.
From Pink Hill Lock
We were astounded by the speed in which we covered that first mile to re-join the Thames Path at Pink Hill Lock. We marched out at a steady pace, just detouring briefly to check out the bird hide at Pink Hill Meadow and clocking a location well worth revisiting.
We continued along blossom strewn paths, enjoying the shade and recalling the total lack of shade on our previous leg.
Then arriving by the river with the lock keeper’s cottage in sight, the tone for the day was set with the numerous narrow boats that we would find hugging the banks. On this day we were in a much better position to admire our surroundings, appreciating the quaint lock side and the English country garden blooms. When we were here last week, all we could think of was getting back to our car without having to crawl there on all fours.
Sweet and Fair Honeysuckle
Having clocked a great average pace on Strava for our first mile, the miles per hour was dropping rapidly as we lingered around the honeysuckle in awe of its honeyed scent. Heady and nectareous it was no wonder the bees were in their element landing on these silver and gold goblets. Apparently, bees and moths can smell this sweet scent from a quarter of a mile off.
It was not the first time along the Thames Path that one of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood came to mind as I thought of Rosetti's poem of sweet and fair honeysuckle.
How does one begin to describe the smell of honeysuckle? Back home, I have checked out my ‘go to website’ for identifying flowers and plants. https://wildflowerfinder.org.uk/ I am fascinated by the words and phrases suggested to describe floral scents, ranging from alcohol, shoe-polish, custard, roasted peanuts, tangerines, beer, bitter almonds, rotting meat, billy goat, unpleasant tom cat along with the more traditional suggestions of peppermint, musky, aromatic, new-mown hay, garlic, coconut, jasmine, vanilla and pongs.
National Meadows Day
This was only the start of our wildflower safari and our timing was perfect as this was National Meadows' Day, an annual event held on the first Saturday of July to raise awareness of our wonderful meadows. We found ourselves able to celebrate in style as we walked through swathes of wildflowers at their very best.
Skylarks sang their praises high above accompanied by the orchestral strings of the grasshoppers and crickets below. The meadows, a multicoloured haze of magenta, yellow, pink, purple and cream – a goregeous melee of selfheal, knapweed, tufted vetch, clover, bird’s food trefoil, loosestrife and common toadflax.
There was much to admire, even on the river where a small clutch of wild swimmers, in brightly coloured caps, swam by oblivious of onlookers.
Our attention was drawn back by the Queen of the Meadows, meadowsweet, its frothy flowers attracting hoverflies sporting their black and gold strips which they use to mimic bees and wasps to ward off predators who do not wish to be stung.
It was with sorrow that we found ourselves being rerouted to the roadside at Swinford Bridge, on account of a landslip in heavy rain, bringing trees down. However, our disappointment was short lived as the detour was no distance at all. Within minutes we found ourselves back by the river, following shady verdant tunnels and then, once more, open meadows.
Protecting, Improving and Restoring Wildlife
We were traversing an area owned by FAI Farms (The Food Animal Initiative), winners of the Sustainable Foods and Farming Award in 2021.This is 1250 acres devoted to sustainable farming whilst protecting, improving and restoring wildlife. https://www.faifarms.com
A soft path, scythed through the tall grasses, seemed to keep Michala free of the pollen filled air that contributed to her suffering last week.
We continued to be treated to glorious wildflowers including red burnet, tight clusters of claret coloured flowers standing tall in these grasslands, along with magenta crane’s bill, tangles of purple tufted vetch, copper twists of curly dock and pure white trumpets of Convolvulus bindweed.
Blue damselflies and demoiselles sunned themselves on the broad blades of reeds. Skippers clung to swaying grasses and spiders spun their sticky webs among the spiky thistles to capture unsuspecting prey.
With electric fencing on our right, we were hardly surprised when we eventually spotted a herd of cows grazing in the distance, with flocks of starlings flying this way and that above their heads. The cows were too distant to be sure, but these were possibly Salers, one of the three breeds grazing these pastures. (The others being an Aberdeen Angus and Stabiliser cross and the third, a Simmental and Red Angus cross). The lack of buttercups in these meadows suggested that sheep had grazed here previously as, apparently, they love buttercups and eat them whereas cows will not touch them. However, unlike last week, today we saw not a single sheep.
The river, on our right, continued to hug the path with a suggestion of distant rain well beyond the opposite bank. The wind flustered the willows leaves and rippled across the surface of the flowing river whilst the skies remained a steely grey.
At Kings Lock, under the gold flowers of St John’s Wort, sat a dragon watching us with interest.
Hastily we filled up water bottles from a running tap and then swung on by.
Up in the Air So Blue
Around a bend in the river and Michala chortled with laughter just as she had when we walked the Ridgeway National Trail a year ago and she found a similar treat in the woodlands near Princes Risborough.
https://gladysperrier.wixsite.com/perrierpictures/post/adventures-along-the-ridgeway-national-trail-day-6. Here, between copse and reedbeds we found a swing hanging from the boughs of a tree.
Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all Over the countryside—
It would have been easy to miss this treat had we taken the shortcut along the tarmacked path rather than keeping to the river, following the overgrown path. Two young men followed in our footsteps, but detecting Michala was not going to give up her swing anytime soon, they decided not to queue up and moved on. Eventualy she was persuaded to quit her perch and we enjoyed further views of the river, over hung with willows as the wind subsided for a while to offer up a silky surface on the river.
Through ramblers gates we encountered some ladies who were totally up perturbed by our presence, just giving us a sideways glance as we squeezed past.
Arriving at Lower Wolvercote, we were tempted off the path by a view of the Trout Inn. It seemed like the perfect spot to stop for a drink. We enjoyed a riverside view of the medieval bridge whilst resting our weary feet. We were drinking where celebrities had been before us. It is here where Inspector Morse enjoyed his habitual pint of real ale and a whisky. Another client of the Trout was that renowned author Charles Dodgson. Talking of which, if we did not move on, Michala would be saying ‘I’m late! I’m late! For a very important date!’ as she had to be home by 4pm for a family gathering.
Godstow Abbey
We crossed back over Godstow Bridge and within a few yards we found ourselves by Godstow Abbey.
Built in 1133, this was once a Benedictine nunnery which served as a kind of finishing school for young ladies. However, it developed notoriety after King Henry II took himself a young mistress, ‘Fair Rosamund’. Having born Henry two children, Rosamund ended her days back within the nunnery, buried under the turf. Following this event, Gofford Abbey continued to offer ‘hospitality’ to the young monks of Oxford.
Centuries on, a herd of dairy cows lounge between the ruins unconcerned about visitors.
We walked through the herd, in the once cloistered Nun’s inner court, to the Abbess’s chapel where we paid our respects before moving on.
Barely having left The Trout, Michala, forgetting her very important date, had to be held back from heading for another inn - The Perch. Instead we found a more attractive perch overlooking the river, where we had our lunch whilst being entertained by a pair of mallard ducklings being fussed over by their mother.
Port Meadow
On the opposite bank, a little egret wiggled his toes in the shallow waters endeavouring to flush out small fish and invertebrates. From the Perch we had bypassed, the wind carried the sounds of Alicia Keys belting out New York. (Hardly appropriate as ‘that sweet city with her dreaming spires’ was in view beyond Port Meadow).
The lush grazing of Port Meadow was gifted by King Alfred the Great, the King of Wessex, to the people in recognition for their efforts to ward off the pillaging Danes.
After a peaceful lunch, we continued heading into Oxford. As we approached the city, the paths became busier with group gatherings, picnickers and swimmers, walking groups and cycle tours.
Arriving at Osney Bridge we quit the Thames Path for the day and returned back to the Seacourt Park and Ride where we picked up one car and drove to Famoor for the other.
