Part 5 To The Thames Source and back the journey so far

Part 5

Monday 17.10.2011

The day starts well I meet on the railway platform, one of my very best and oldest friends, Geoff, he is on his way to work, which as  he describes is as a street walker, for a gas company that is south of the river, we chat until West-ham then part company, he to asses peoples gas engineering needs, me to drift and wander along the Thames. Now my good friend has retired it October 2013, as I have also done back in May.

Geoffrey enjoying one of his many passions, that of cooking great food

Dorchester Abbey founded in AD 635, pretty old. 

A grey day, sky wise today, as the cloud refuses to spread apart, to allow any blue hue to show through.
Dorchester or at least the by-pass, where the bus drops me, is the start of me putting one foot in front of the other. I thread my way past thatched cottages complete with rose gardens that would look good on the photo of any chocolate box. Past Dorchester Abbey dated at about 635 AD built by the Normans, replacing a Saxon church which dated even earlier. It is well worth a visit inside as is their Museum . But as usual for me the waterways call, I pass on through the village allotment, where it is just throwing up its last burst of colour. Soon frost will strike the blooms that on show, wilting and putting them to sleep for winter.
Already most of the lots have been turned over anew dark, fertile soil, rich with manure waits at rest, until late autumn or coming spring when fresh planting begins. My daughter Sarah has an allotment as well as growing in our garden many vegetables and fruit, they are in constant need of weeding, but worth it for the fresh organic grown food, with taste unsurpassable.

Days lock, looms into site, where I left the waterways last time. At first I set a good pace to ward of the cool air, breathing my own mist clouds, that float around dispersing. All is silent, at peace.

I cross Days Lock, after about quarter of  mile I turn round to stop and admire, off in the distance is a outcrop of hills known as Sinodum Hills or locally as the Wittenham Clumps. A much loved coppice of beech trees crowns the very top of the hill, of which sadly a number have died through disease.
It is believed to have once been a iron aged fort, it holds a prominent high ground, so no doubt would have been a great spot to observe the Berkshire and Oxfordshire lands for friend and foe.

Wittenham Clumps in the distance 

Further along the path I spy on the other bank, another look out post but of a more recent war, hopefully sheep make better use of it than it was intended for.
Funny or not so, as I called the 2nd world war a more recent war when in-fact it has been surpassed but numerous wars and conflicts Vietnam, Falklands, The Irish war or The Troubles, Wars in Africa almost too many to list, Iraq, Balkan war, Afghanistan, war on Terror, bloody hell when will we learn to talk? as a sane, intelligent, aware race of beings, but enough sorry to bash you over the head with my thoughts at times but I got'a let them out.

Bunker and boat

Later, to amuse myself, I wondered how far I could walk with my eyes closed? I get to a stretch that went across a meadow so felt safe, as per most of my walks it was absent of other walkers when not close to towns or villages, so no one to think "Who's this bloody loon with his eyes shut?"
I started walking eyes tight shut, keeping the same walking pace as with them open, the first time only twenty seconds had me opening them in fear. I eventually managed sixty seconds, which in the scheme of things is pretty short time to be walking unseeing. Only once, was I just three more strides from plunging into the river, as I un-intentionally,veered from the straight line that I thought I was walking. It was a very odd sensation and took great will to keep my eyes shut even for sixty-second, while walking.

I only did this to test my nerves and to judge if I could still walk a straight line, I had not intended to try and replicate what a permanently blind person has to go through each moment of their lives, but it gave me something to think on. This much I know, that I would not know how I would cope with such an obstacle or obstruction to living my life and to getting around fearlessly.
If the ability to see were to be stripped from me, the loss of seeing the wilderness , smiles, beauty, stars, body language, reading, writing, spring, autumn, winter, I just could not imagine such a loss.

But I know for many, this is their reality. There are many in this world unseeing because of the lack of a few pounds, not anything too major, just clearing up cataracts and such like. According to "Unite For Site"  there are 45 million blind and 135 million visually impaired world wide. Many of these, ridiculous figures, arise from childhood problems of which 70% is preventable, nearly all of these children fall into the category of living in the so called "Third World."

Is each day is a fear filled journey? in some places it must surely be so, but most probably they just get on with it, because that is the way of it. But I can only guess, nay make that know, that they are far braver than I could or would ever want to be. The irony is, this need not be so for many!! So what humane-kind will we do about it?
Stop preaching Michael, you are beginning to sound pompous, get on and do some thing about yourself, leave others to do or not to  do anything themselves! 

Clifton Lock would soon reached even though my left leg at the back was giving my pain down the muscle into the back of my knee, I am guessing this was due to this being the first long walk with boots back on. As all summer and autumn I have been in sandals, bear footed [no socks, if that day were to come bury me deep] or in trainers, socks allowed though.

The Thames had narrowed greatly in parts, as it twist and turns one moment heading west then north swinging west then south then back north, so the wind bites at me but always from at different directions.
I am often, getting a too good a view of Didcot Power Stations cooling towers. I am informed later, that it is fossil fueled as well as the wonderful Nuclear fuel, "Yes but how many thousands of years does it take for the waste to become non lethal?" "Don't get me started."
 I am now heading for Culham Lock and hopefully onto Abingdon on the southern or is it northern side!!

Suddenly a large pheasant shoots out of the shrubbery, just above my head, scarring the bejeesus out of me. It flies up into the grey sky away across over towards a small forest of trees. The farm fields to my right, has all its crops gathered in, leaving only the stubble. This leads across to a row of tall trees in the distance they have begun to shed their leaves. It is a photo opportunity time, with the background of grey cloud and the yellow stalk coloured field, I believe makes a fine photo.

A little further along the path, a wonderful aroma of apple finds its way up my nasal passage. I soon find the reason for this delightful smell. A wild apple tree has dropped its fruit for the year, they cover the floor all around. Either people have walked over them, or wildlife have been feasting on them, which ever way a number of them are squashed or pecked to pulp. Loads more are still in good condition but fearing belly ache I just allow the rich pungent smell to enter my body and leave the rest to the birds and badgers.

some apples still hang on for their lives.

My legs are beginning to tire and ache more, I am trying to work out on my inadequate map, where to get a bus or train. I eventually see a chap walking his dog going the opposite way. He is a fisherman seeking a new spot to cast his line, although he has no gear with him. I ask him about buses. He recommends the best place to get a number of buses, the best being Abingdon two and a half or so more miles on. I thank him saying that will do for me. Be-time I have reached Culham Lock I am actually hobbling, if not limping. The fisherman catches me up having walked back he is heading to his car at the Lock. He says to me.
 “You look in a bad way, like you have had enough.” I explain my theory of wearing boots for the first time this year. He offers me a lift into Abingdon, as that is where he is also headed. I gratefully accept, so here I must say, if I have said anything derogatory about fishermen then there is a least one who is a star.

 I manage to squeeze in with his fishing gear in the front a seat, thats back had given up the ghost so I am sitting, well almost laying, in the back seat. While his dog sits with its drooling tongue inches from my head giving me a curious look as to say,"Whose this, thats bloody well nicked my seat?"
On the drive into town we chat about the Thames [the man and me, not the dog and me] he has walked bits of the path a number of times living locally, but has mainly sat on them casting his maggots and thoughts onto the waters, that go flowing past his feet.

If you have walked the Thames Path do you recognise this? where did I see this, loverly front to someone's house?

He is kind enough to drop me right at the bus terminal at about five p.m, explaining I will have to get a bus first to Oxford for a train to Paddington or the bus to Reading and then a train to Paddington. As my ticket is from Reading I opt for the cheapest way in using my bus pass to get to Oxford first then change buses for Reading, then train from there.
A real arse about face journey, which of course adds at least an hour and half to my traveling  time. I have to change buses at Walingford, it is now pitch dark and is seven thirty before I get the on bus to Reading. I eventually arrive at home in Dagenham at nine-thirty-ish tired, yet pleased. I have enjoyed another day Thames walking.

Monday 7th November 2011

It promised to be a day of difference and lived up to it, I had set of hoping to get off the train at Culham, but the main line train from Reading to Oxford did not stop at the last four small stations, one of them being Culham. So it was it arrived in oxford around 2pm ish. I had already decided on staying overnight at a backpackers hostel but had still hoped to arrive earlier than this. This would mean that have that I would now walk backwards for a change, [not actually walking backwards, although that does have some strange appeal to it, no I mean walking in the opposite direction to which I had been doing so far.]

On leaving the station I headed into the city centre, on route I passed the Back Packers Hostels made quick enquire for a bed for that night, then continued into the centre. I found the tourist information office, they were helpful but had no free maps of the city, the lady gave me directions for the river verbally.

One of the hundreds of Gargoyle's that are dotted around Oxford 

Once out side I saw a man talking to a couple, on his jacket was printed, “Free guided Tour.” I approached them, he was explaining that today’s tour would not take place, due to bad weather and lack of participants. He turned to me and again began his explanation. He was willing to give us a free map of the route he would have taken us on showing the most iconic architecture of Oxford buildings. If you get there and want the free tour I recommend Tom, he seemed a descent chap, his number is 07850 339993, the tours are sponsored by the city but you tip or pay at the end of the tour, what ever you want give, or not if dissatisfied with his walk.
The tour takes in Trinity College, Queens College and many more university's, churches, museums the lot.
 As in way of an apology, also he gave us all a large slab of chocolate fudge, he had purchased from a delightful fudge making shop called "Fudge Kitchen," I was pleased as punch with both of these freebees, easily made happy am I.

I considered the rain and time of day and settled for walking around Oxford for the rest of the day, as it was a place I had wanted to see more of anyway. So with delicious fudge and free map, I set off to explore. It is a most delightful university city the graduates aught to be honoured. It is full of history as well as all mod cons, pubs, clubs, theatre, for the young and not so.
Buildings of grandeur, churches, gargoyles galore, ugly and lovely at the same time, ally-ways and hidden squares, parks and canals, not forgetting father Thames snaking around its waist like a belt keeping it all together.

I took two hours of walking cobbled roadways and paths, found my way to the Thames then back into the centre, sought out places I might eat that evening, then headed to the Oxford Backpackers Hostel. Apparently the grooviest place to stay, at least so their wall murals said!

Showers good, bed durable, people on duty friendly, people staying were a mixture of traveller's, odd balls and probably some of the homeless, young and old.

Night time sleeping erratic due to fellow hostelers retuning a various hours of the night or morning, although not out right noisy, just bloody in-considerate turning on the light, emptying the total contents of their backpack to find a toothbrush or such, all this to awaken some of us, other sixteen sleepers, from trying to be sleep, that were ensconced in the same room. "Ha ho" such is the norm of sharing a room with eighteen other individuals, who are traveling and having fun.

I eventually gave up trying to drift into sleep for the umpteenth time, so got up showered, dressed, packed my rucksack, then returned my pillow case for my five pound deposit [who would run off with a pillowcase?] trying not to think about the fact that they did not ask ne to strip the sheets or quilt cover!! Nor probably the previous beds occupants!!!

I headed for a Giraffe breakfast, no not the highest leaves on a treetop, but the full vegetarian breakfast in the Giraffe café, just superb, and setting me up for the day.

Two pictures above, a pub and a house Thames side Oxford

Which was well needed as it was grey and very wet with a constant drizzle not heavy rain but fine and eventually drenching rain. I set forth along the Thames, in my wet protection jacket on, heading down river for the first time in this part of my walks, of course I had headed down river when traveling east towards the estuary, away from Barrier last winter.
I must admit gravity did not seem to help much, as I walked down river, after all of my complaining about forever waking up hill.

Thames circles Oxford before heading out into the wilds

For all its greyness and rain, it was still delightful walking. After the first two and half miles I stopped at a pub where I enjoyed a pot of hot tea to drive away the damp, rather than a beer. While allowing my gear to drip-dry on their carpet I read a book and observe the other customers, an elderly couple to my left have a most enormous magnifying glass that Sherlock Holmes would have been proud of, to enable them to scrutinise the menu.
During this time the rain outside has given, up thinking it had driven me indoors forever. It thankfully, never returned for the rest of the day, “Hurray.”

Family of four

The rest of the walk was peaceful, the path was muddy and often covered in rain glossed leaves, that the had the wonderful warm autumn colours, as the trees began shedding their summer cloths at last. The sight of birds flitting and sitting upon bear tree branches and giving forth trickles of song was enough to gladden the heart. These songs and a cool breeze, accompanied me on my way.

Along the path I spoke to a couple whome had done the walk about ten years ago, they wished me well in my endeavour, as well as taking my blog site address "Good couple, I am sorry I did not get your names, if you are reading this I hope you are enjoying it, as indeed that all of you, visiting my blog may be doing so."

My newly found dowsing stick and backpack

I found a Y shaped piece of a branch from a willow tree that I decided would do nicely for my “divining, or dowsing stick" to try and find the leyline that runs through this part of the world on its way from Cornwall to Norfolk. So for the next five or six miles I walked while holding this twig out in front of me. I only passed one man coming the opposite way who said to me, “Are you dowsing?” I replied yes then went onto explain about the leylines or energy lines “ Oh, well good luck” he wished me, then carried on his way. I wished I had said "I am looking for the water that flows in the Thames" rather than energy lines, as he would have been just as nonplus as he was anyway, although too polite to say.

Grand boat house reflecting upon itself

A heron in its spying, hunting, tree.

I stopped for lunch, it was yesterdays left over cheese and beetroot sandwiches, still tasteful as ever. I paused to take photos, I stopped to admire a part of the country side or to try and spot a bird as it sang, other than that I strode on or to be more accurate, more often slipped along on, the muddy path holding my twig out front.
No energy pull had my twig fluttering or being drawn downwards in all of the six miles. But at one point I stood in a very delightful spot the trees were beautiful in their russet reds and golds, their cloaks of drying leaves, reflected in the river, rich green and flowing past gurgling and singing its news as it travels east.

where I felt the possible energy ley lines

unknown folly on hillside

 As I approached this place waterfowl were calling from side to side of the river, most hauntingly and beautiful. Then quite suddenly fell into a hushed silence. I stood stock still and in my minds eye, saw both the tip of `Cornwall and Coast of Norfolk joined, zooming past me an energy of streaking light to connect them.

Of course I am able to conjure up the fanciful in my head, so did not hold this to be a great fact of what was! but as more of what I could imagine to be happening, still I do wonder! hey who knows?

Which ever way it gave me a theme for yet another story watch this space, well not this space as it is all ready filled but look out for another space, then again once its filled how will you know it wasn't the space I was referring to?
"Oh sod it let it go!"
I then carried on walking from that peaceful place as i did I thought about ley lines, as well as story lines. It was not getting warmer and there are still a number of miles to go before before arriving at Abbingdon.

Rain polished leaves colour the pathway

I find all manner or nature shining wet after the rain, these colours will soon drain away, the leaves braking down into nutrients for the soil to replenish next years growth. And so the circle of life continues. Seasons follow seasons years follow years, seeds become plants along with sun and rain, they to give fruits to continue the circle. As do humans we have babies that turn into children, who become adults, adults become children again, then to dust.
Is that which was our energy flow some thing that keeps going? does it forever flow, just as the river and the ley lines do, over ground, underground to the seas to the heavens, on the wind, out into nature.
A wave crashes onto the rocks, was the wave energy the water? or a force just using the water as a medium to travel from one place to another? is that us also time travelers moving on in energy form that is sometimes ethereal some times solid?

rain washed berries

A web of diamonds, rain droplets caught on a spiders web

It is in taking time to pause and seek all about us the we can find true meanings in-life's rich tapestry in the, often hidden, beauty that is all around us. Talking of beauty and rebirth, as I type this up I have been watching the Frozen Planet "wow" now thats some program.

The weather stays reasonable as I head on, divining stick out in front. A jogging lady passes me, I ask how far to Abingdon she tells me about half hours walk, she is good to her word. I lay my divining rod down to join other snapped, decaying twigs, not knowing if it did not work or it was me or I did not pass a leyline! so it shall remain a mystery. I end my walk entering the town via the park and old Abbey that has only a few arches left standing in a beautiful landscaped gardens.

I return by bus to Oxford where I find a train to Paddington about to depart. I board just in time and flump down in a seat, having enjoyed my overnight two walk spree, I am speeding home. Winter is closing in days are shorter nights damper and colder, this may sadly be my last walk west to the source for this year. When I do start up possibly next spring 2012, I will try to stick to this two day walks, which will need better planning as well as resources, such as money for instance. I have about 50 miles still to go.

However look out for further additions to my blog and my short stories, thank you for taking time to view my blog. I wish that every hit has been enjoyed and has maybe even been thought provoking, but above all I hope it made you smile at some point.

Take life shake it up, live it, dance it, sing it, but always laugh at it, it is too important not to enjoy. my best regards until next time M. J. London.

  Please see all my other blogs including my eventual walk to the Source in 2013 life is good!

Part 4 The Thames Source and Back, okay its dark and cold out side so why not read

Page 4

Chapter 10

Tuesday 27th Sep 2011 

A fresh start at Reading it seems an interesting Town that could do with some more investigating but I wish to move onwards as I am staring my actual walking later each day. This is due to length of time the bus and trains take to my start position each new walk day. First of I need for my small camera some batteries. I bought a pack of six batteries from a pound shop, for guess how much? Yes! You guessed right £1.00 I did not believe they actually men’t every item pack was only a pound. I shall never cease to be amazed with this world.

Talking of amazement a young lady on the Hammersmith and circle line, if not amazed me, at least entertained me and others. She was happily listening to her i-pod rocking to the music as she sat bopping and moving in her seat, then when she stood up for her stop, she was all but dancing doing a couple of steps, then standing still, then swaying, then a few more dance moves as she awaited the train to stop and doors to open. When she left the carriage a couple of us smiled at each other, I said, “Well some one was enjoying their train journey” one man with a big grin agreed, then carried on reading his paper. Some time observing is far better than reading.

After securing my batteries, I wondered of to find the flowing waters of the Thames, it did not take long, basically follow the signs to it, that normally works.

The Reading Rock festival has long been and gone so I walk to the sound of my own internal drum. I walk down "Thames Avenue" [not the first on this journey] and there he lies, flowing in his undeterred way, as I walk against him. I keep wanting to say her but it is after all “Old Father Thames” is it not? So it is a he! not a her, sorted!

part of stone circle at Avebury amazing site

Talking of rocks, myself and Anne, my sweet lady, have not long retuned from camping in Dorset, along the Jurassic coastline, absolutely beautiful. We also went to Avebury in Wiltshire, a lovely small village. It is famous for its Stones Circles, the oldest known in the world, far older than Stonehenge and as far as I am concerned more impressive. You must go there it has a strangeness about, it and is on a Ley-Line apparently the most famous in the world which spans from the tip of Cornwall to the Norfolk and Suffolk boarder, crossing the Thames just below Oxford, I shall have to find out where exactly! If I can that is. It is strange how later on in my walk when I arrive at Swindon I am not far from this magnificent Stone Circle but did not realise at this point and have added this fact in the future 5th Nov 2013.

For those of you who may not have heard of Ley-lines they are energy spots or lines, quite often, important places are built on them. Be-they stone circles, churches, castles or large Abby’s. People who are susceptible or in tune with earthly vibes and  energies, can feel great strengths or power at such places.

It doesn’t take too long to leave Reading suburbs behind and I am out into farmland and the countryside again. Now my holidays are over with we have hit a wonderful spread of hot weather. Today being no exception late September is hotter than our high summer. For almost half way of my walk today the Thames path makes a big loop away from the river, due to private ownership I guess. I can decide to go to Tilehurst Station, which I am near or keep going to Pangbourne Station. Even though it is very hot I decide to keep going.

The arrows direct the way through some pretty ugly and uninspiring urban sprawl. I trudge past small housing estates that’s only saving grace is they are not far from the Thames. I photograph a sign that reads “Welcome to West Berkshire.” hum! There has been no shade on this concrete jungle, which takes about forty-five minutes, I am pleased to be returned to the cool waterside not far from Mapledurham lock.

I walk with the river on my right and a long embankment wall on my left, which the Oxford to Paddington trains runs on. This wall affords me plenty of much desired shade. Also the wall is a canvas for an artist who has painted on the wall one of my favourite murals the C.N.D. symbol. Tucked away here I wonder perhaps was it a practise run by the spray painters, or just to use up the last of their paint, then again before the trees grew so thick it was probably viewable from the river.

one of the many delightful tunnels of trees on my walks.

I reach Pangbourne Station, knackered, hotfooted ready, for a sit down. On the other platform opposite are three, can you believe this, three, train spotters, two of them youngsters about sixteen to twenty years old and an elder chap in his late fifties, as I would guess. They are absorbed in their timetable books and showing each other, with their good quality digital cameras, previously snapped shots of fast moving trains. It seems the freight engine is the most sort after photos and logging of numbers. They get all excited when one streams past rattling, at a fair old speed, pulling at least fifty wagons, off it flashes bye, off gone into the distance. Okay I can understand and appreciate the engineering of a steam train but the ugliness of a diesel baffles me, let alone the waiting around for goodness knows how long to see it flash past!!
No there is know doubt, they are amongst the fisherpersons list of the un understandable, which may be a double negative!! Now they are also a curious bunch the user's of double negative lot.

Monday the 3rd October, weather still great, autumn at its best leaves crisping up, the trees wearing a new mantle of colour, sun still bright, wind strong but coming from warm lands so is very pleasant. I leave the train at Pangbourne, the train spotters had eventually gone.

This is where in the novel"Three Men in a Boat"the tale ends, at the Swan P/H and also where Wind in the Willows started. For Kenneth Grahame lived both in Cookham and in Pangbourne, in Church cottage for part of that time. This was after he retired from being the secretary of the Bank of England. You can understand where he was inspired for his story of Ratty, Mole, Badger and the incorrigible Mr Toad, for the River between both villages is a delight. Where the banking comes into it not sure! then again the pompousness by certain characters was probably from that world. Wind in the Willows and further tales of Toad are books to be read by young and old alike.

This leg of my journey, kicks off by crossing the Thames into the village of Whitchurch, vehicles or at least their owners have to pay a toll for the privilege of using the bridge. It is a delightful village of thatched cottages. The arrows for the Thames pathway take you ever upwards and away from the Thames but be not afraid, for it will be all worth it, I am still in loverly countryside. Leaving the village behind, turn left until a few hundred yards you turn left again onto Hartstock bridle way. It is a metalled road that seems to stretch forever and you feel “Am I on the right way, did I miss a directional arrow?” The road is tree lined with occasional home or farms with horses grazing, to brake the monotony, a good word for scrabble, although ixia is even better, its a South African plant of the iris family "hum" maybe thats a name so not aloud! okay try xebec a small mediterranean sailing ship also known as a zebec that should get you some points!

Just before you reach a forest high up, you have to stumble down a steep slope into a valley then back up the other side. Someone had recently thoughtlessly spread loose chalk type gravel on the down side which had got wet and slippery, thus encouraging, with the help of gravity, for me to slide ungainly down. I grabbing for barbed wire topped fence post to stop myself skiing face down to the bottom, just missed impaling myself. "Do some thing dangerous every day,” is prerequisite to living so some say!!

Still it’s worth every curse, as at the top of the next rise you enter a forest on the hillside of the Chiltern Hills, which in brakes in the tree line offers you outstanding views across the valley and down to the River below. The footpath clings to the edge of the hill, within the forest, gradually slopping down to the rivers edge while running parallel with the water. Of course this is where my small camera decides to pack up on me, yes a few more superlatives pass my gritted teeth. I shall carry my cannon camera, from now on no matter what the weight.

The river along with its canal boats or occasional cruiser floats lazily past heading east as I walk west into the Goring gap. At Goring Lock I cross the river yet again. I am now heading towards Wallingford I believe I can make it today, if not can always get the train at Cholsey. After many sheep filled pastures where you play “Dodge The Pooh Piles” which is nothing like playing “Pooh Sticks” [doesn’t it just though]
I have taken to soaking my feet in the refreshingly cool water [sod the fish I’m sure they can survive the smell] it is a treat to stand wiggling your toes as the steam rises “Ahhh” is the only real phase that comes to mind. I stride, newly refreshed, across Cholsey nature reserve out onto the road, past a very tempting pub on the rivers edge called “The Beetle and Wedge” for those who have the money a great place to stay overnight, but not for me.

Again you are drawn away from the river, this time the peace of riverside walking has gone for a mile or so, as the directions take you beside a busy A. road, until you reach a decision, making crossroads. To the right back to the Thames and onto Wallingford or left to Cholsey station. Realising Wallingford shows no railway let alone a station, wisdom and weary feet send me towards Cholsey. Incidentally where Agatha Christie is buried in St. Mary’s Church yet another capable writer bites the dust along the Thames. 

Another day.

Paddington to Cholsey Monday 10/10/2011 did you realise next month there is a 11/11/11 day or be-time you read this, the other month, last year, there was a day that was 11/11/11.

No blue-sky day today grey as ever, yet surprisingly warm with a torrid wind that bashes myself and the treetops, the dry leaves are making it sound like waves crashing on a beach as I battle with my flapping jacket. Which boringly reminds me of the story of the Wind and the Sun if you have time. I have retold myself this story umpteen times on my walks so now it is your turn, which may release it from my meandering mind, it goes like this.

                           The Sun and The Wind do Battle.

The Sun was shining blazingly down, when the proud wind from the West, popped up with, “Hi sun, how are you today?’

The Sun replied “Very well thank you just doing what I do best.”
“Oh I see well I do everything best, better than anyone or anything else.” added  the West Wind. 

Now Sun had heard all the posturing, buffoonery and plain exaggerating, from wind many times before, but for some reason Sun had had enough of it today.
“So are you really all you crack yourself up to be? Are you as strong and fierce as you say you are?” enquired Sun.
“Bu Bu but of course I am, why even stronger than you Sun.” Wind scornfully returned
“The I guess a little wager to prove it would not be amiss,” asked Sun nonchalantly.
“Anything, anyyyything, I am up for it” retorted Wind
“Okay then, let me see, ah yes, there is a man walking alone down there, not far from Old Father Thames, can you see him?” asked Sun.
“Yes I have him in my eye of the storm.” said Wind.
“Then our wager is to see which of us, with out harming him, who can force off his jacket?” informed Sun to Wind.
“Pah, too damned easy, but as you say, so shall I do,” said a blustering Wind “It’ll take seconds with a puny humane.”

The Wind began to blow, flapping the coat this way and that. The man grabbed at its edges holding tight about his body, wind blew harder but the coat stayed on the man. Wind gathered in his three brothers from the North the South and the East they joined forces. Cold north wind leading, but the man buttoned up his coat as the cold hit. The turbulent south wind, that had gathered the mistral winds from France on his way over, pounded the man. But still the jacket stayed on. The East wind from Kurdistan joined in, together all four harried, buffeted, gusted, tore at and generally harassed the poor man, but still his coat stayed on his body, although his hair flew in all directions. As he swayed along he leant into the fierce winds wondering, “Where the hell did they come from.” Then at one point the four winds blew from their direction making the man unable to walk any which way, but to stand stock still.
At last the Sun said “Enough, enough I think you have given your best, without actually blowing the man inside out.”

The winds ceased there howling and blowing and retired into the air buffeting and blaming each other. Meanwhile Sun said “I guess it’s my turn now.” So he just sat in the sky and beamed down his rays gently warming the man until he began to perspire, the man thought, “Few eh its hot now, what ever next?” Then slipped of his coat flinging it over his shoulder and continuing on his journey.

Sun smiled at Wind, Wind grimaced then all four fled to a cave, high up somewhere, in a South American Andes mountain. Where they argued for a month before carrying on with their duties as before, but a lot less boastful this time. In the meantime Sun shone, man walked on.

                                          The End 

Moral of the story, know your origins, know your strengths, but let others choose to raise your profile, if they so desire, not you. Or maybe just don’t be fooled into a bet no matter how proud you feel about yourself. Or don’t go reading anything into anything its only a story.

A man I met along the way "no socks with sandals" is all he would say.

For me on this day neither wind nor sun won as my jacket stayed on even though the winds were from the south and as I said reasonably warm, but the sky was overcast hardly any blue to be seen. It was good to reach the waters edge where I put on a fast walk in the direction of Walingford.

I had got off to a late start from home today, it was one o-lock before I headed up Papist Way away from the station and thinking of lunch I walked until 2 p.m. found a good tree to lean against, sat on my versatile black rubbish sack and ate one of my ever-faithful cheese salad sandwiches, while I watched the river flow green and clear. The river permeates your mind running free, Question, which is the River ? the water or channel it runs through?

I think about it's travels, since the ice age had departed, and the years it has flowed. Thousands upon thousands of gallons of water have passed along this vale, the fish that have swam, the humans that survived because of it. Then I thought of the enemies who floated up it, to cause devastation to villages and hamlets.

There are many concrete Pill Box sentinels dotted here and there, which still stand guarding against invaders, be they Saxon, Roman or who ever might try it on again, but mainly they are used as toilets or for the occasional rough sleeper as a home.

Hateful tactics are different now, we taught them well, we gave them anger, poverty, miss-trust we took there oil and lands and now they just choose a train carriage that is full or bus packed with normal people, add a little explosive! Well enough said on a lovely autumn day. 

Walingford does not take long to reach it is a very ancient town back to Saxon times at the very least. The pathway leads you through the very pretty town square, you may wish to linger have coffee visit the museum, but I wish to press on to Dorchester, that is my end goal for today. Just on the outskirts of the town, on reaching river side again, are a couple of benches as per normal dedicated to a person or a couple that shared this spot or strolled here about. I always thank them for having been and therefore offering me a seat. As I sit to finish another sandwich, I spot riding across the stone bridge two horse and carriage or stagecoaches, there have four horses to each, pulling the coach and at least six men purchased on top. The drivers are in full livery. I manage to snap off a few photos before they pass. It did indeed look like a scene from the past, apart from one yellow high vis waistcoat on one man. I am sorry I never did find what it was in aid of, I just enjoyed the spectacle.

At Benson Lock you are directed back across the river where again you leave the rivers edge, strolling along the road I almost miss the arrow back across a field to a lovely path towards Dorchester. I come across a very nice young lady on her narrow boat hanging out her washing, she has two delightful little children with the longest, blondest, curliest hair, I have seen. Their hair is gossamer like and made more so by the constant wind tossing it about. I stop and chat with them. This is their home, until they move on somewhere else, we both wish each other a grand life, the children with dandelion hair, wave goodbye. I know as soon as I turn my back they will enter back into being fairies, then off on some adventure to save children-kind from some evil, or just to collect teeth who knows.
I would love to have taken photos of them all but it would have felt intrusive, my daughter has found the knack, as both a professional photographer and a women, to do this with out being intrusive, yet catching a most wonderful insight of her subjects be they friends or strangers. I am more  at home with views.

Further down the path I stop to talk to three women who I guessed were also walking the whole path, they are using the same system as me, they tell me of another two ladies not far behind them doing the same, we wish each other well and move on. Just before heading into the beautiful town of Dorchester I meet the other two ladies, again we chat about pathway walking then like river barges passing in the night we move on.

When I return to carry on I will spend some time in Dorchester they have a fine old abbey and cathedral, as well numerous pubs and again those so English thatched cottages of beauty and style. But for now it is to stand on the car thundering by-pass, to catch a bus back to Reading, which takes an hour even before I start my train journey, life is like this, "go with the flow" as the River will say.

Please see page 5 to continue walk with me, when it is posted that is which will be soon, very soon, you must be tired by now, go to sleep!