On Tuesday 22nd August, Michala and I met up to continue along the Thames Path. Once again parking at Seacourt Park and Ride in Oxford we walked the short walk to Osney Bridge where we joined the Thames Path for our 6th day along this National Trail. Our second car had already been dropped at Culham Lock, 12 miles down river. The daily rate for Seacourt was £2 and the carpark at the end of our walk was free.
Sweet City with her Dreaming Spires
We set off at a good pace along the easy surface. It was hard to credit we were in a city, traffic noise dulled by the thick hedgerows, offering only the occasional view of ‘that sweet city with her dreaming spires’.
The face of the river had changed from being this narrow blue ribbon unfurling as it makes its way from the source, through quiet villages and meadows. The river frequented by solitary herons, coots tending their young and flocks of greylags shifting from their grazing meadows to the water’s edge.
Sheer Folly
Now, we found tourist cruisers and wondered if we should have thought of catching a boat to return from Abingdon to Oxford instead of using a car. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
We strained to hear the commentary as a boat slowed for passengers to gaze at Folly Bridge. However as cars drove over the bridge the tour guide was drowned (his voice I mean - not him as he remained firmly seated on the cruiser).
I relied on the guide book, reading that there used to be a building with a tower which was used as Father Bacon’s Study. The building was demolished in the 1700s but in keeping with ‘the folly theme’ there now stands a castellated building with various niches and statues, one of which looks mighty like a bishop - perhaps some reference to Father Bacon.
On the other side of the bridge, at the Head of the River, sits a pub beautifully decorated with scarlet geraniums.
Mustn’t Grumble
Since Lechlade, the number of narrow boats had increased and their names fascinated us. Perhaps none more so than this one named ‘Mustn’t Grumble’. A couple were seated on deck at the back of the boat enjoying their breakfast and I chided them, saying ‘now you mustn’t grumble’. They took this in good spirit. I should have remembered this mantra later, towards the end of our hike when the sun was beating down on us relentlessly.
Isis
Oxford would not be Oxford without more than the occasional rowers. It is nearly 200 years since the first Oxford Cambridge boat race.
Even though the majority of students will not yet have returned from their summer break, there were rowers on the water. We passed a coach as she instructed a team from her perch on a push bike. Off they set, gliding like a knife through butter, down the Isis.
In Roman times, the river was known as the Tamesis where the River Isis and Thame converged. This stretch of the Thames is still referred to as the River Isis by Oxford students.
Blooming Marvellous
Along the path we were delighted by the marvellous blooms including Hollyhocks.
Himalayan Balsam, an invasive plant, lined much of the way. It has a beauty about it with its orchid like bilateral flowers. The smell is not to everyone’s taste. Some have described it as rank while others have described it as ‘a girl’s breath through lipstick’. For me, it is simply the smell of autumn. It symbolises summer coming to a close.
Teasels stood tall, their cones stripped of their lilac flowers, the seeds offering the ideal food for goldfinches.
We lingered by the 100 year old stone bridge at Iffley Lock and then admired the blooms in front of the Lock Keeper’s cottage wondering if it is a prerequisite for lock keepers to have green fingers since their gardens are always pristine.
The floral themes continued with buddleia attracting hornets and butterflies (possibly Speckled Wood Brown).
Under and over bridges and weirs we continued.
The day got warmer and warmer, initially offering little shade as we walked alongside the meadows to Sandford Lock, where we heard the roar Sandford Lasher. The path kept us away from this deadly stretch of the river that has claimed so many lives.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses and we heard the hum of voices across the river coming from The King’s Arms. It was too early to stop for a bevvy with only 4 miles completed and if we stopped we might not have wanted to continue.
Wood crane’s bill, forget me knots, purple loosestrife, orange balsam, chicory, hemp acrimony, common ragwort, common michaelmas daisies, oxeye daisies and many more thrilled us as we continue on our way.
With the sun high in the sky, even the tall hedges offered no shade.
By the river, the breeze rustled the willows and cumulus clouds billowed in the blue sky. A windbreak of golden poplars lined the far side of the meadow.
Common reeds looked everything but common, with their silky heads swaying, gleaming in the sun like strands of embroidery thread in a rich red sheen.
The hawthorn bushes were heavily laden with scarlet berries. The blackthorn offered tempting sloes ready to pick for some Yuletide gin.
In Clover
The meadows were filled with the sweet scent of red clover which I understand is used in crop rotation as they can convert nitrogen in the air to nitrates, acting as a weed suppressant and enriching the soil. No doubt it also provides plenty of nectar.
Any spot of shade was welcome and we were able to pick up the pace only to slow down again when walking by open meadows, dazzled by the heat and sun.
The grasshoppers were content to chirp continuously whilst we, on the other hand, walked in silence, sapped of energy.
Some relief was felt by the calming sight of the river with its shimmering reflections or the occasional shade offered by the oaks and willows over hanging the path, sheltering us from the glare.
The sun even penetrated the thick blackthorn tunnel to dance and shimmer. Dance, we did not.
Even the white water roaring through the weir at Abingdon Lock seemed furious and merciless in the heat. The tunnel offering a brief encounter with shade and then back out into the dazzle.
Why oh why had we ignored the guidebooks that had suggested the 9 3/4 mile walk between Osney Bridge and Abingdon? Instead we were pushing on for a further 2.2 miles to Culham Lock. In our wisdom we had thought to take advantage of the longer summer days while we could.
Even a detour to checkout the view from the footbridge seemed almost too much.
End in Sight
The sight of houses the other side of the meadow gave us a sense of relief that our path was coming to an end. We swung our arms vigoursly just to propel ourselves along those last few hundred yards to arrived at Culham Lock carpark and collapsed into the car, turning on the aircon full blast before driving back to Oxford for our second car and home.
It sounds painful I know, but 'mustn't grumble'. We very much appreciated the beauty and tranquility of this section of The Thames Path and are already planning the next leg.
