For some of us, not all of us. Ken was still “Weak and Spindly” (his favourite name for Terry) and the high level consensus was that he should taxi himself and most of the stuff to Newbridge so that he might have the jam to walk into Oxford tomorrow. Hope so. Terry and Peter tripped lightly off with just water and bit of lunch. Ken finally managed to get a ride with Nick, a very ebullent driver who was actually on his day off. Turns out he was a Massey Fergusun tractor fan based on his childhood on a farm in Zimbabwe so they had lots to talk about. Once at the Rose Revived, our home for the night, Ken sat sort of glumly in the pub under the Willow trees wondering how this will all go while checking Terry’s speedy and chipper progress.
Terry here. Tis a sad tale, indeed, by Ken. But Peter and I made our way through gates, over bridges, past cows and bulls and Canada geese, saw lots of swans and ate blackberries from the brambles growing beside the trail. It was tolerable when the clouds were out but hot when the sun was out. Not much for shade today.
I did miss a hidden gate and walked probably 400 metres along an electric fence. Turns out the trail was just on the other side of the fence, but since I didn’t want curly hair, I couldn’t just hop the fence. Later we met two Germans riding their bikes bumpily along the trail, but when I explained the path in that section was very narrow and beside the electric fence, she just said they would walk their bikes. I don’t think she understood that the trail was almost too narrow for a person walking and there was no way to push a bike through there. Oh well. I tried.
As a note, you can always tell where your family is by listening to the squeaky gates opening and closing. So many gates.
A view of our hotel from across the river. There are pill boxes (bunkers) all along the navigable portions of the Thames. Built during World War 2 in case of a German invasion by land Using the river as an arterySplish splash I was taking a bath! Swans are very distracting! And not conducive to walking. Our first lock of the day. Check out the burls on this old tree. These trees are all numbered with little metal tags. Bindweed3 unruly children. I should have counted the gates (so many!) and pillboxes today. These cows were a strange grey colour. Only bench of the day which we gave up to older hikers. Butterflies. Not very nice dogs… One of them was wearing a muzzle. Rich peoples. Lots of blackberries for me to eat! These swan parents have taught their cygnet to mooch. Very bad parenting. And they did not eat the blackberries I tossed them. Pffft. Entitled. We had to walk right past these young bulls. I got a long mooo. Was that like a whistle? Uh oh. Unruly rude Canadians ahead! I asked this guy if he took hitchhikers but he said no. Rude.I found out later the lock keeper’s name was Rowena. Or RoRo As Simon likes to call her. And then at the next lock he asked us to help him pull his boat out of the lock because his rudder got broken. Uh huh. What did you say when I asked for a ride earlier??? Peter was willing but two young local lads helped him. Peter and I were so happy to arrive here. It was starting to get hot. Our lady hiker friends showed up shortly after us. We were okay with the concept of nesting birds… But venomous adders?!? No thanks. Had to cross the weir at the lock to continue on the trail on the other side. Met a gentleman from the Environment Agency (Simon) who said he would give us a ride to the next pub a mile away if the lock-keeper friend he had come to visit wasn’t home. Sadly she was so we trudged on. Peter fell far behind and I thought he was tiring out, but it turns out he was just picking up snail shells from the cracks in the road. I was stuck between the bridge wall and this tractor on the one way bridge. Pedestrians do NOT have the right of way here. The boat is named “Hoo Doo”. A very Albertan name. My favourite colour of rose. Tadpole BridgeNewbridgeStaying at the Rose Revived. Baaaahhhh. Hmmm. The warnings are all for the Balkan and Slavic countries, nowhere else. Ken said us Slovaks are known scoff laws and the worst poachers so a notice had to be put up. Especially the women, he says. Ken should be careful as he doesn’t know where he is sleeping tomorrow. The trail literally goes through this bar. This is Ken’s dream trail! Proof of life! We had supper under the willows. And guess what? Absolutely no mosquitoes! At home in June and July we couldn’t go outside without being swarmed by mosquitoes.
