Lechlade to Swinford
42.1km, 49.177 Steps
Hello, friends of picture taking Austrians. A wise man told me the secret of long-distance hiking is to make it past the second day. We made it with bravado.
This morning I was blessed with - you won't believe it - sunshine! After stocking up on fruit for fibre characteristically missing from any dish served at pubs and restaurants in these breadths, I enjoyed moving together with the sun: It rose, and I rambled along photographing every type of grass against the velvet sky.
After a little while, more and more walkers populated the trail though it would be a stretch to call it crowded. A jogger here, a golden retriever walking its human there. Families taking their children to visit the locks followed later.
Kilometres and steps are one way to measure distance travelled. Another is to count locks. These were deserted today - I only encountered a single boat travelling upstream - but in pristine condition, with every one placing some distinguishing ornament around the more functional elements of water regulation.
Father Thames stood out as having his own history. Initially crafted for Christal Palace in London, he used to guard the river's source until he was moved to St.Johns Lock (number one for the day) for security reasons.
From Lechlade, the river becomes very meandery. Getting from one point on the path to the next often takes three or four times longer compared to walking in a straight line. And there's no escaping either as electric fences abound. So I was surprised to get to what I thought was the halfway point of today's walk an hour before the pub there would open.
So no lunch yet, but instead, I met three chaps outside, trying to decide whether they should go on as their friend had injured his foot. Living in Richmond, the trio had been getting together every once in a while for the past three years to walk a new segment of the path. They were the first other Thames Path ramblers I'd met, and we exchanged reports on the conditions of the trail ahead and phone numbers for taxi companies just in case.
Motivated by the rapid progress of the morning, I ventured on past protected meadows overlooked by bird-observation towers and found another pub for a late lunch. From here on out, the walk turned unpleasant fairly quickly. The landscape became somewhat monotonous with sheep pasture after sheep pasture, and it started to drizzle, then rain quite persistently. Looking at a map, I wasn't far from my stop for tonight, but the path took me away from the river and along a detour that followed the road and more endless sheep pastures.
Things were looking up again once I'd arrived at my Sabine Barn B&B and had a hot shower. Here I met the proprietor who shared a bit of his - and the barn's - history. He'd worked as a craftsman, refurbishing the lock houses along the river some fifteen years ago. Eagerly he asked me about each and every one of them and if I'd visited them yet. He showed me photos of a doer-upper narrow boat he'd acquired and refurbished, only to sell it to a friend as his wife refused to go on holidays in it.
He told me that the barn we were chatting in was probably built in the 18th century using repurposed beams from ships for its structure. Some of the more ship-like joints were still visible. My host came across it accidentally nine years ago, and his DIY story continued from there. Today it is an island of tranquillity with a cosy atmosphere.
Currently sitting opposite me are the only other guests: an elderly couple - he used to be a chaplain - here to visit Oxford where they used to live. He shared jokes about Otto von Habsburg, and we discussed the struggling gastronomy industry (the inn I stayed in last night had lost its chef and could no longer afford to replace him). Amongst many other topics, we've been debating the weather forecast (gloomy) and hiking trails around Oxford. We'll find out more about both tomorrow.
Be well,
T