To Goring Gap

Saturday 11th April 2009

At Osney lock at 9:00 am to try to make up some of the lost time. The Thames is very different to anything we have experienced before. The locks so far are not as big as those we did on the Severn last year, but make up for it in the lock keepers. I assumed that they must have something in common, but all were completely different – the only thing they shared was their colourful personalities. There was the one that thought he was a gypsy; another who saw himself as a salty sea dog; also the Edwardian stationmaster complete with waistcoat, watch chain and walrus moustache; and the squadron leader. Some were taciturn, but others chatty, giving information about the weather, and how trees in leaf soak up huge amounts of water and help to absorb some of the rain and reduce its effects.

Below Oxford we came across the rowers. Teams of athletic young women in lycra with rippling shoulder muscles and astoundingly lean legs, or groups of single skiffs passing down through locks. Occasionally they were accompanied by a trainer on the bank who shouted instructions through a megaphone, and on one occasion in a very fast inflatable with an outboard, which set up an incredible wash. I cannot understand how these tiny boats do not tip over – they seem to be nothing more than a blade of plastic with people balanced on top.
Oxford boat houses

Then, the oddest rowing boat I have ever come across. Four elderly people standing in a boat, rowing at some speed – the oldest and frailest dipping his oar expertly into the water to turn the boat, and the woman at the front quickly lassoing a bollard as they brought the boat to a standstill. After them we saw others in double boats, all of them much older than the teams of young athletes.

We have passed old towns, huge mansions, and boat houses. At times the river was narrow, at others hugely wide and seemingly completely unaltered by humankind, as it might have done thousands of years ago – if it were not for the introduced tree species.

Brick Thames Bridge

The next two months are my favourite time of year – spring really is here now. There are huge numbers of great crested grebes building their nests, and several times kites wheeled over us. Some of the trees are not yet in leaf, but many copses and woods are covered in green, in particular the stately willows lining the river are sweeping verdant branches towards the river, and the sycamores are covered in a lime green froth of flowers.

We carried on to Goring, where we moored to go shopping at the general store in the town. Our boat is lost in a long line of plastic on the moorings, and many of the other boats tower over Chalice. I had quite a job persuading Alan that perhaps sitting on folding chairs on the roof and drinking wine out of coffee mugs was not perhaps the most tactful (or safe) thing he could do.

After we had gone shopping Alan and I walked up to Streatley on the other side of the Thames. In the mid 1970’s I walked the Ridgeway long distance footpath with friends and stayed at the Youth Hostel in Streatley. Looking for supplies in the morning we went into Wells General Store, opposite the hostel, only to find that it was an amazing cheese shop. Nowadays every supermarket has a wide range of cheeses from all over the world, but back then this was an Aladdin’s cave, and I came across cheeses I had never heard of. There were also home cooked pies, meats and patés. The store was run by Major Rance, with his glinting monocle, while the rest of his family helped. I visited many times over the next few years, often stocking up on a range of cheeses for the Christmas season. The building still bears the sign over the door, but it is discretely shuttered now, and there are no signs that it is a shop any more.

Goring Lock

At about 8:30, with the sky still light, but the trees and boats dark, David and I stood on the front deck of Chalice while a bat flitted around the bows, skimming over the water, then disappearing into the darkness, only to appear again almost in front of our eyes silhouetted against the sky. David’s 20 year old ears could hear some of its sounds and cries, but to me, it was silent.
Distance: 28.4 miles; locks: 10
Total distance: 143.6 miles; 95 locks