Distance: 25.9km (466.4km)
Steps: 36,261
As a person who ordinarily gets by quite well on five to six hours sleep a night, retrospectively, maybe being ‘sound asleep by 9:00pm’ wasn’t such a bright idea.
I awoke at 3:00am. A full moon had risen and I was wide awake. I did try to go back to sleep but to no avail. So after counting 600 sheep I gave up, got dressed and very slowly began to pack away my camp. I span it out to 4:00am, by which time I had re-laced my boots three times. Then I feasted on a packet of peanuts (eaten one at a time) and a strawberry flapjack.
Around about 5:00am the temperature plummeted and a mist came off the water, or maybe the mist came off the river and the temperature plummeted. Either way, furry hat or not, it was time to get going. There was just enough light to see the tree roots that would be trying to trip me. As I walked between paddocks, the horses were just waking up and were blowing raspberries to each other. By the time I reached Gatehampton Manor it was full light.
Even at this early hour, there were fishermen about, in gaps between bushes. Not sure if dawn is a good time to catch something or if they were simply an hour or two ahead of the bailiff. Maybe fish for breakfast is the order of the day around these parts.
Just peeking through the foliage beside the railway bridge is a WWII pillbox. Well hidden by trees and bushes today, I wonder if it was so well camouflaged back then. I can’t help but think, if the invading forces had got so far inland as Goring, the game would largely have been over. Thank goodness these Thames pillboxes were never used in anger.
Set back in the trees on the opposite bank to Little Meadow, is this magnificent old abandoned building. Not sure what it was but it surely deserves better than being left to rot.
About 1km south of Goring Bridge, the Thames Path has been diverted. No mention of who has diverted it or with what authority but there’s an expensive looking new hedgerow been planted behind a substantial fence. My guess is that it’s not an official diversion but rather a landowner taken it upon himself to gain a bit of river frontage.
Goring is a picture postcard sort of place. The town was still fast asleep when I arrived at 7:00am. All bar the butcher, from whom I bought a pork pie and McColls, where I got a warm bottle of sparkling water (something definitely wrong with their fridge).
There were a dozen or more Royal Mail vans blocking the road as I approached the bridge linking Goring to Streatley. On the Streatley side I turned right down towards the river and back on the Thames Path.
3km brought me to Moulsford, where a large group of boys were playing football. I walked under the railway viaduct north of the town and stuck to the west bank all the way into Wallingford. It started to rain.
I got the bus to Henley, then an assortment of trains home.
Sebastian's Swagger 