The Middle Bit
Oxford > Abingdon > Shillingford > Pangbourne > Sonning > Henley-on-Thames > Marlow > Maidenhead > Eton > Staines-upon-Thames
86.8 – 216.1 km
I thought about calling this section either the Meat in the Thames Sandwich, or the Middle Thames Child, but I’d either make everyone hungry or I’d have a certain sister up in arms. So, The Middle Bit it is.
From Oxford to Staines-upon-Thames, the path winds through very changeable countryside. It’s quite different to the Upper Reaches. Gone are the hours-on-end of verdant green. Hardly a half hour of walking goes by without the path’s landscape changing from pasture, to lock, to town, to park, to woodland, to boat-sheds, to grand estate, to roadside verge, to pub courtyard, to preserved meadow. There was a lot going on – to see and to do. Nature is still all around, but the landscape is a whole lot more constructed.
Adding to this newfound complexity, the weather turned changeable. We are in Britain, so I feel I must at some point discuss the weather. It is, after all, tradition. For five weeks I had glorious sunshine and the odd windy day, but rain was scarce. Good for me, not so good for the land.
My lucky run, however, was about to end.
On the final approach to Oxford the overcast skies turned heavier and I had my first taste of walking through rain. If avoiding getting wet wasn’t motivation enough to get my skates on and find my accommodation – the Oxford YHA (budget night) – I also had a date with a coffee and a prowl through the shelves at Blackwells bookshop (one of my favourite places in the universe).
Looming clouds followed me the next day to Abingdon, the soft rain drifting in and out, and the day I walked between Henley and Marlow was truly soggy. I discovered, however, something truly freeing about walking in a soft, drizzly rain. It somehow made me feel more connected to the environment. My wet weather gear was doing a half-way decent job of keeping me and the Beast dry, and at the end of each day on the TP I had a warm, dry hotel room, a hot shower, and a room-temperature ale waiting for me. There are worse things I could have faced. If I wanted to enjoy such glorious greenery, I told myself, then I really had to embrace it.
Talking about difficult things to face…
For those of you on toe-nail watch, I can report that at this point in the walk my left big toe was still doing a colourful opal impression (don’t worry, I’m not going to inflict you all with pictorial evidence). It was getting a little darker every day, and was starting to slide around, so I taped it to my toe and waved my magic hands over it in an effort to not lose such a crucial body part. Changing from the ‘sporty’ innersoles I’d been using, back to the factory issued pair, made a bit of a difference to my discomfort level too. Sometimes, incremental improvements are all that are needed to get me going. For those of you not on toe-nail watch, you should know that feet are a common point of discussion on long walks, so I hope you’re all appreciative that I haven’t made more of a thing of mine 🙂
Onto other topics…
Accessing The Middle Bit of the TP is very easy, with frequent public transport services and lots of towns to stay in. The results are that there are a lot more walkers, but it’s a little less friendly than The Upper Reaches. I didn’t meet many serious hikers. Only Annette and Wendy from Australia (if you really want to hear a horror feet story, speak to Annette), a pair of gentlemen who politely declined to be photographed (though they’d laughed at themselves when I spotted one of them recording every step of the other’s path), and this other pair who said hello, but dashed off in their haste to get out of the rain. Can you see them in the distance?
Another topic of conversation on the TP is the lack of direction signs in towns. You’d think it’d be easy to follow the river, but where it passes through towns landowners often reject the idea of strangers walking through their garden. Strange, I know! Here are a few very obvious signs that grabbed my interest…
With so much more to take in through this section of the TP, the water birds took a bit of a back seat, but the usual suspects were still around, plus a few new types of birds, all showing singular personalities…
There were still plenty of mole action, and I was quick enough to catch a couple of bunnies out of their burrow…
New to the TP animal kingdom were the mayflies. Bazillions of them erupted on the day I walked between Shillingford Bridge and Pangbourne. Crazy insects that madly fly vertically up, then dive down, like wild gymnasts on invisible trampolines. They’re nearly impossible to photograph, but I gave it a go. They look like scratches on the lens.
As I said earlier, through The Middle Bit, the river edge is as often natural as it is constructed. The river splits into multiple canals through Oxford…
…then reconnects, and winds south along Christ Church Meadow, then past college rowing sheds where the river is as likely to be populated with rowing sculls as with canal boats…
…foreshadowing the intense regatta being prepared for at Henley, and the impressive Olympic facility west of Eton (which isn’t technically on the Thames, but the TP passes by it.
As the Thames grew, so did the locks and weirs…
Bridges came thick and fast. Some I walked over, and some I walked under…
…and it was under the bridges that I saw some marvellous art (aka graffiti) that was only the beginning of public creativity.
Those of you who pay attention to the fine details might have noticed that some towns are ‘on-’ and others are ‘upon-’ Thames. I learned all about the difference from a fabulous volunteer historian at the Abingdon County Hall. I think his name was David. Apparently, if a town began on one side of the Thames, it is ‘-on-‘. If the town straddles the river, then it’s ‘-upon-‘. Bit of trivia there for you.
Having been to Oxford many times, I decided to focus my attention on Abingdon. The County Hall was pretty impressive. What’s inside turned out to be even more impressive. Check out the amazing views, and the giver of spoons!
This was far from my only brush with fame. I arrived at Sonning to discover I’d only just missed (a matter of days – otherwise I would have been running after them down the lane, never mind the blisters and the opal toe) visits from Mr and Mrs Clooney, Dame Judy Dench, and Teresa May (the PM, who happens to live in Sonning when she’s not at No. 10). Those interested in churches might like to see the one she frequents…
More impressive with my brush with Sonning fame, was how close I got to Toad Hall. Although, like all good things, there’s a story to that too. Locals around Whitchurch-on-Thames seem divided on which grand house inspired Toad’s great hall. Was it Hardwick House? Or Mapledurham House? (To get the best view you have to be on the north bank of the Thames, where I wasn’t). My vote goes to the first. Which do you think Toad would love?
On a sad note, when passing through Goring I came across George Michael’s memorial…
Other homes that caught my attention included this hanging glasshouse, and this house with a model train that ran the periphery of the estate,…
…and the amazingly gorgeous Culham Court – a private estate between Henley and Marlow, which allows TP walkers through. It had a moat!
Despite the overabundance of stuff to look at through the Middle Bit of the TP, and my weariness of carrying the Beast (I started to dream about suitcases with wheels), I still managed to notice the little things. I will leave you with a collage of the amazing variety and beauty of flora that has clung on in the face of encroaching urbanisation. Plus a few pics that show the persistent growth of stinging nettles. My bane!
Bragging rights goes to the person who can find the Aussie native 🙂
PenLoper 