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.
I forgot to mention the case of the missing dog yesterday. We had met a lady walking two spaniels (we were taking a snack break at the time, with Ken scarfing down all of Peter’s M&Ms unbeknownst to Peter!). We met her again but this time with only one spaniel. She had lost one. I thought the lost dog might just go home but apparently not only were the dogs not local but they weren’t even hers! She kept looking and we kept walking. We came upon the dog a short while later but it would not come to us. I dropped my pack and went running back, only to see the girl in the distance walking back to Ken’s snack tree. I did manage to eventually get her attention. Peter had tried to follow the pup and at least we had her looking in the right area. Sure hope they were all reunited! And that was a run I could happily have done without. Sigh.
So…the best laid plans. Ken started his day with a full breakfast while Peter and I settled for the continental. After a bit of wandering looking for the path, we headed out of Cricklade along the Thames. Still more of a creek at this stage, although with some actual flow. The river was filled with England’s version of cattails and we are hearing more birdsong. The trail today was mostly through fields adorned with cow patties and daisies. Because the soil was so dry, the footing was uneven so you had to be careful. But it was flat and it was cloudy, so great walking.
After 8 km we came into Castle Eaton with their scarecrow festival and ended at the Red Lion pub. After lots of guzzling drinks and eating tarts and doughnuts, we started walking , with 10 Km to go. But Ken started to feel unwell so we walked back to the pub and called a taxi. After some conflicted discussion, Peter and I decided to forego the 10 remaining kms and take the cab with Ken. The rest of the route today was going to be road walking plus I was concerned about Ken. He of course is feeling guilty about having to quit early for a second day in a row. But it’s early days yet and you have to look after yourself.
And bonus! The Christmas store was still open when we arrived (it would have been closed if we continued walking. 🎄)
The White Hart in Cricklade, not to be confused with the White Hart in Ashton Keynes. Only 8 km away.Look at the diameter of this huge horse chestnut tree. Seeing a few fields of corn today. The path is lit up by chamomile flowers. Lovely. Himalayan Balsam. An invasive species. Although invasive, these flowers were providing the first patch of flowers for the bees that we’ve seen. It was just buzzing. I can’t imagine that the bees have survived this heat wave… Everything is so dry and the house gardens and plant pots have been left unwatered due to drought. Flowers are rare now in this country that prides itself on its floral displays.Club rush… As opposed to our home grown cat-tails/bulrushes (but they have them too). Um? What is this gate supposed to be holding in…or out?Our first swan! Oh oh. I think we need to walk through those cows. Moo. Slurp.This next town is hosting a scarecrow week, with several house participating by setting up displays in their yards. I believe there is a melted Olaf in that cooler. I completely understand why he melted.I just liked these candle holders built up with old colourful layers of wax. Giant jelly and chocolate doughnuts for lunch. Very nutritious, non? Lion sculpted out of old horseshoes. Hopefully the video below works. The parrot would repeat whatever you said. A very old town water fountain. As opposed to the more popular Rude Notice.The Red Lion pub in Castle Eaton. Not to be confused with The Red Lion pub back in Cricklade, just 8 km away. Sheesh! Do these people only have a list of five pub names to choose from (remembering the two White Hart we were in yesterday)? I can never resist a Christmas store. Heavy sigh. The pack just got a wee bit heavier! As we arrive in Lechlade, the River Thames has finally become an actual river, full of boats and people. Toll house on the single lane stone bridge. Built around 1792.Ken is so mean. He refused to take me out in the swan pedal boats. I even said it did not have to be the pink one. I believe our rooms are actually the old horse stables from decades and decades ago. The rooms are on either side of this long walkway. We love watching Clarkson’s Farm but Ken says his beer is actually pretty bland.I would love to explore these old buildings.Dana, look at these little felted sheep. Luckily for my back, this store was closed and no more weight was added to the pack. Other than from the Christmas store, of course.Jacket potato and mushy peas. Why do they offer tuna/sweet corn baked potatoes? Have they never heard of sour cream and chives?!? And why do they mush their peas? Enquiring minds want to know.Fish and chips…minus the chips.If this building looks a little bowed rather than flat, it’s because it is.The New Inn Hotel. Not sure where the old one is.I guess I won’t be taking a bath. He was 2 inches across! But no worries. No spiders or Terrys were harmed in this photo. Spidey was transported to the garden outside our window. And he never even said thank you. How rude.
Tomorrow Ken is taking a day off and Peter and I are going to attempt 26 km…without our packs. They will go with Ken.
A one hour taxi ride from Bristol to the Source, with a lovely driver originally from Poland. She took us down a private road marked with “absolutely no public access to the Source”. She dropped us off, we had to climb over a gate quickly and sneakily, and she snuck away. But the stone marker was only a few feet from the gate.
The Source is marked by this stone marker and a pile of rocks. Apparently it is most often dry, except for sometimes in a wet spring. Ahhh. The look of quiet anticipation. Let’s see how long that lasts! We are off to walk to London. Just because. A short walk compared to previous walks and yay! It’s all flat. We love flat. Thou shall not pass! Quite a bit of field walking. It’s so dry…what are these poor cows actually eating. Follow the acorns. The river bed. More dry River bed. This is so sad. But apparently these upper reaches of the river are often dry, even in years with no drought. If it’s a bench, I sits. No, Ken. It’s not going to happen. Veto. Absolutely not. No way. Oh wit, those are the names of the three dogs you won’t let me get! Many villages have turned their old phone boxes into AED centers. I don’t understand why Ken won’t carry this couch so princess me always has a comfy place to sit??? These stone fences are a work of art – it takes a true craftsman to build these. Still trying to figure out which way the cars are going to come at you from. First bit of water we’ve seen. But it’s trapped, not flowing. Happy piece of shade for someone to sit and steal Peter’s M&M’s. We walked past numerous “end pit lakes” – water filled quarry pits. Some are open to public but most have private access only. That’s just cruel to not let us dip our feet. Someone has spent time building these lovely crafty spider webs, 8 in total. More water! A very welcome pub in Ashton Keynes at the 12.5 km mark. I got confused as to what village we were I as our hotel for the night is also called the White Hart. Ken decided he’d had enough for the day and we decided to forego the last 8 km and catch the bus to our destination for the night. We’ve seen a few of these – they are apparently old Saxon memorials. Some used to be crosses but the cross part was destroyed. Another re-purposed phone booth. Still no water. Father Thames is not doing his job. A happier Ken on the bus. Finally a coffee!
Our very expensive room in the White Hart Hotel is over the pub, where a singer is belting out classic hits. Hopefully she goes away soon.
Perhaps I should say a few words about why we are walking again… And why start in Bristol?
Ken and I started long distance walking in 2019 on the 800 km Camino de Santiago. On the plane home, Ken looked over at me and with a stern look told me to never ask him to on another walk. Then the Camino you tube videos started… In 2022 and 2023 we walked from London to Rome on the Via Francigena, and in 2025 from London to Dover on the Francigena Britannica, then Reims to St Jean Pied de Port on the Via Campaniensis and Voie de Vezelay, and onto the Camino de Finisterre. We’ve clocked over 4000 km on our tired feet. These routes are historically religious pilgrimages, over a thousand years old. For us, the drive to walk became addictive. It held spirituality, adventure, culture, history, nature – an excellent way to immerse yourself in a country.
I’ll let Ken explain why we are doing the Thames River Path. Ok, Ken here, it just seemed to to me that these walks kept us a bit younger than we are, as hard and painful as they may be, so I idly suggested last winter that maybe a shorter easier walk that would actually tie into what we have already done might be in order for this year. Thinking about it, it seemed that walking the Thames path from the Source all the way into London would be nice and flat, nice and shady and should have a nice supply of pubs along the way. It is also a cool way to follow the growth and richness of a country as the River itself grows from a trickle to a major artery.
First a few photos from our first day.
What’s a trip without an emergency run to the eye doctor on the morning of your flight?!? Peter had gotten something in his eye a few days earlier, our Lac La Biche eye doctor was away, so we went to the local clinic where I held the light and the doctor used a magnifying glass. Hmmmm. Peter went off to his Anime convention for the weekend but the eye was still bothering him Monday before we flew. Luckily the Edmonton eye doctor we used to go to took him right away… And more luckily, there was nothing in his eye. Just residual irritation. Grateful that strike had ended by the time we flew.
Back to walking in Bristol’s floating harbour.
I think they are trying to get their ducks in a row? These people have built a duck ladder. For my Scouting buddies. A Scouting handbook, written by Lord Baden Powell’s son in 1943 (revised edition).The SS Great Britain. First propeller driven iron ship, designed by Brunel. She had a lengthy history as a luxury passenger ship in 18, then hauled cargo.. And was finally scuttled in 1937 in the Falkland Islands. In 1970 she was rescued and returned to her home town of Bristol where she was originally built. They even used the same dry dock!The bottom half of the ship is as it was found. You can walk around it under a glass floor that makes it look like you are under water. For a mere 10 pounds you too could crawl up to the lookout. Ken declined to climb for some odd reason.Moo. They had a little box you could open to enjoy the smells of the barnyard. We walked across this bridge on Wednesday… And on Thursday it looked like this. It buckled during some routine maintenance. Or maybe Ken was one Ken too many. The famous Clifton Suspension Bridge, designed by Brunel in the early 1800s. An engineering marvel. Hakari Hanazono, Karane Inda, & Shizuka Yoshimoto have joined Peter on this hike. River Avon. It is tidal, which is why there is actually water in it, despite the drought in the UK. Flying over England all you could see were brown fields. No one has flowers. They haven’t had rain in weeks and this week the temperatures were in the upper 30s.Crossing the bridge, Ken happened to hear a young couple in conversation. The guy was saying that in life you see what you want to see. If you choose to see good people you’ll see good people everywhere and vice versa. Ken, being Ken, gurgled in a creepy voice, “I see dead people” which caused the guy to laugh, the girl to walk faster, and Terry to slap her forehead in despair. The picture shows Ken still being quite proud. Waiting for the bus with the girls. The artist Banksy began his life of street art here in Bristol. This one is titled “well hung lover”. We received an emergency alert on our phones regarding danger of wildfire and a ban on barbecues and the like. In the meanwhile, the road crew was out… Having a BBQ? Fixing the pot holes in the cobblestone? Where is Ken with his air tankers?!?
Tomorrow we walk. Will we see any water? Stay tuned.
After 29 hours of travelling, Peter, Ken and I have made it to Bristol, where we are taking a short break to get over the jet lag, before beginning our trek along the Thames River. The 34°C heat was not exactly a pleasant welcome and we’ve had to take things easy. But we’ve still managed to get out and about and see some of the sights in this historic town with ties to Newfoundland…and the slave trade. We even managed to witness the solar eclipse (93 % coverage).
The eclipse…
Someone doesn’t like Shell! Bristol is the home of Wallace and Gromet, and Shaun the Sheep!
There always has to be a trip to the aquarium.
This blue lobster was at least 18 inches across and his claws were about a foot long. Kinda scary! Only Peter (whom Ruth and I refer to as “The Eye”) would notice the plastic zebra toy near the bottom left. He informed the staff and they immediately removed it. A Hercules beetle, according to Peter. The black one, not the yellow one. The species of the latter is unclear. The Bag of Nails. Again, not the yellow one. Our first pub. The Bag of Nails is home to 11 cats who have free roam. Sadly, there were only two at the time. Ken is fascinated by these old red post boxes. They have the insignia of whichever monarch was reigning at the time. This one has Edward the 7th, who was king from 1901 (just after Victoria) to 1910.Oh oh. A Wallace and Gromet store…actually part of the Bristol museum. We are staying in an apartment. Dare I show you Ken’s breakfast of fried eggs and leftover mini doughnuts?!? Blech!
Loved seeing the Canadian flag and Newfoundland’s! We took a ride on the Matthew. This is a replica of the ship in which John Cabot sailed to make landfall in Newfoundland in 1497. The replica actually sailed to Bonavista in Newfoundland in 1997, sent on his way by Queen Elizabeth to celebrate the 500th anniversary of the landing.
Bristol stood at the heart of the slave trade, being the major port where ships plied the seas between England and the Americas, in goods but sadly also in people.
It was just too hot, so we spent most of the afternoon resting, napping (the man in yellow) and reading. Cooler temperatures are coming tomorrow and even better when we start walking on Saturday.
