The Last Leg

The sun is back and I eat breakfast on the deck before packing ready to leave. It’s A level results day and our son is in Budapest, due to fly to Italy, so we receive his results in a message – he’s achieved the grades needed for his first choice university so we begin the day on a high. We’re on the road by 10, driving to Benson to pick up the Thames Path where we leave it and continue to walk east. 

The path crosses the river at Benson Lock and then hugs the south bank as far as Wallingford. It’s mostly rural until we reach Wallingford bridge. There’s a floating hotel moored here called The African Queen which appears to have come from Mapledurham, just down the road from home. 

The path leaves the riverside, passing down Thames Street between picturesque old buildings with the odd modern monstrosity thrown in. It passes through an arch between two buildings and across a narrow wooden bridge over a stream, emerging by a slipway back at the river’s edge. 

The riverside properties here are separated from their moorings by the path and at first it’s fenced but as we get further from the town there are no fences and the path simply crosses the substantial gardens. There are rowing clubs here for the Oxford colleges as well as private properties.

Shortly before we pass under the Nosworthy Road we reach open countryside and, before long, encounter the inevitable cows. These have calves and are blocking our path but don’t seem to mind us weaving through them. We cross the path to Cholsey where there are signs that there was once a ferry service across the river, and enter Cholsey Marshes where the path grows increasingly wooded.

We continue to follow the river until we reach a railway bridge where a boardwalk leads us through its arches and then sharply right on a footpath through the impressive grounds of Moulsford Prep School. 

Emerging onto the Reading Road we turn left past the fronts of riverside homes until we reach Ferry Road and our lunch destination, The Beetle and Wedge. We didn’t book ahead as we weren’t sure how long our walk would take and we’re fortunate to get a table as the restaurant soon fills up completely. The food is excellent but the service seems a little overstretched. As we finish our lunch the African Queen moors up outside.

As we retrace our steps back to Benson we are surprised to find a couple of huge branches have been broken by the wind since we passed a couple of hours ago … we hadn’t realised the wind was so strong. Within an hour we’re home and reflecting on what we’ve learned – we can live very comfortably on a boat and both agree that a couple of years exploring the waterways is something we’d definitely consider; our next step will be to hire a self-drive for a few days.  We’ve also resolved to walk the entire Thames path, bit by bit.

Rainy Day

We wake to the unmistakeable sound of rain, but we are cosy and toasty inside. We’d planned ahead for meals so there’s no need to go out and we enjoy a lazy day playing games, reading and watching movies – another appropriate selection from the TV’s hard drive: Deepwater Horizon. Not everybody is put off by the weather – boats continue to pass us on the river, leaving a wash that laps gently against the hull but doesn’t really cause much movement. Even a rainy day doesn’t seem so bad when viewed through the window of a boat.

West on the Thames Path

I’m up before Simon and drink my morning coffee on the foredeck. It’s a beautiful sunny morning. I’m visited by a lone female duck who gobbles down our stale baguette and hangs around hoping for more. A couple of small fish bounce across the river surface like skimmed stones. After a comfortable night we are both showered, breakfasted and out by 10am. 

We follow the Thames Path back to Shillingford village, cross the A4074 and walk along it to where the Thames Path rejoins the river, close to where the Thame joins the Thames, south of Dorchester. 

 We cross the river at Day’s lock and continue along the opposite bank. It’s farming country, mostly cattle and sheep, and the flimsy electric fence doesn’t seem enough to deter a determined bovine. Across the river large properties boast impressive gardens and boathouses, but overlook the power station at Didcot beyond the river and fields. We walk among clouds of white butterflies, which gather in spectacular numbers around pink blossoms; we see a heron, red kites and a deer which watches us calmly and doesn’t bother to get up.

The Thames Path crosses the river again at the bridge in Clifton Hampden; we’ve been walking for around two hours now and feel like a break. We stop at the Barley Mow for lunch and then turn back the way we came. 

Just past Day’s Lock there’s a footbridge towards Little Wittenham so we cross it and take the path towards the Wittenham Clumps; a pair of chalk hills topped by some of the oldest beech woods in England, the lower of which was formerly the site of an iron age hill fort. An alternative colloquial name is Mother Dunch’s buttocks, after a lady of the manor.

It’s a warm afternoon and the ascent is hard work but the view is pretty spectacular if you disregard the power station. We walk back along a bridle path through forests and farmland which emerges at the far end of the Shillingford Bridge Hotel’s car park. After grabbing a much-needed cold drink from the fridge in the boat, we drive to Waitrose in Wallingford to pick up ingredients then sit on deck to enjoy the last of the afternoon sun before dinner.

After dinner we cross Shillingford Bridge and walk the Thames Path as far as Benson where we have a drink at The Waterfront Café (a fairly regular summer lunch haunt for us) and watch the sun go down. Walking back in the dark is a bit of a challenge!

Arrival

We arrive on a fine afternoon and install ourselves on board. The boat has been recently refurbished and the living accommodation is spacious and comfortable. We’ve been warned that high wattage appliances can’t be used – so no hairdryers or microwaves – but there are few other compromises. Having come equipped to self-cater we’ve brought quite a few food and drink items that need to be chilled and the fridge is not quite regular size so we have to do “fridge tetris” to fit everything in; this provides the perfect excuse to enjoy a couple of chilled drinks on the small front deck. There’s a full size Calor gas cooker, a wide selection of movies, books and games and an excellent sound system. The toilet turns out to be less of an issue than I feared.

We are keen to explore our surroundings and take the riverside path from the hotel garden but it’s quite overgrown and our shoes aren’t really up to it. We retrace our steps and follow the Thames Path over Shillingford Bridge and along the north side of the river along a private road. The path turns right along a narrow track between properties, then we see a left turn that isn’t signposted but clearly takes us back towards the river. It emerges at the end of a cul de sac where there is a sign marking high water from various floods – some as high as us. 

The road leads through the village of Shillingford towards the A4074 where we find a hotel called the Kingfisher where we stop for a drink. It’s a fairly soulless and neglected place; we’re the only customers. While Simon orders the drinks (appropriately, his is a Kingfisher) I look for local information among a display of leaflets. We’re in Midsomer country so there’s a map of locations, but as we’ve never watched the Midsomer Murders they don’t mean much to me.

We return via another footpath which joins the Thames Path where we had turned right earlier. We retrace our steps back to the boat and prepare dinner. I enjoy watching night fall over the river as I cook.  There’s no wifi and almost no mobile signal but fortunately Simon downloaded some music on Spotify which we can play through the amp and speakers provided. After dinner we choose a movie from the wide selection provided on a hard drive attached to the TV. Big Fish fits the aquatic mood. 

A Few Days Afloat

We’re toying with the idea of beginning our retirement with a couple of years exploring Britain’s waterways by boat, so it seemed wise to have a trial run to see whether we could adapt to life afloat. I have found a wide-beamed narrowboat for rent on Airbnb which seems ideal – although located only about half an hour from home it is on a stretch of the Thames Path we haven’t yet explored. Baron II is moored at the Shillingford Bridge Hotel, where I remember having Christmas lunch as a child. A few days before we arrive, the owner helpfully sends some video instructions on how to access the boat and – somewhat alarmingly – how to operate the composting toilet. I decide not to share the second one with Simon until absolutely necessary.

Saying goodbye

After a leisurely breakfast and final packing, Bobby-Jo takes some portraits of us in front of the roses in the garden. Mike’s combi has suffered a breakdown and he returns with another vehicle and its driver to pick up the rest of the group, who are on an earlier flight to Jo’burg than me. To avoid a long wait for my connection I have booked on the afternoon flight and arranged a late check-out. I’m sad to see them go … we’ve shared so much and made some special memories. I really hope to see everybody again, and have offered to host them at our house should they visit the UK.

When the vehicle is out of sight I find myself a spot in the garden and read. I suddenly remember that I had left my drawstring bag in Mike’s combi. I message Bobby-Jo and fortunately she manages to contact Mike, who is still in town and agrees to drop it off later. Finally it’s time to have a shower, put on some clean clothes and finish my packing. I take my luggage to the terrace where we had our final dinner together and sit down, just as Toto’s ‘Africa’ begins to play. Tears fill my eyes.

I’ve composed myself by the time Mike arrives with the missing bag. The friendly manageress has kindly offered to drive me to the airport and we chat on the way.  I drop my bag, buy a final can of “dry lemon” and wait for my flight. There’s a great deal of turbulence on the way to Johannesburg, including one of those dramatic drops where liquid remains where it was while its container plummets. Fortunately I have only water in my cup, but the lady next to me ends up covered in fruit juice. I’ve never been so relieved to touch down.

Some last minute shopping at the airport, then the final leg home. I’ve been allocated an aisle seat and as I approach I can see the woman in the centre seat is anxious and unsettled. She tells me she gets claustrophobic and needs a window or an aisle seat; the stewardess has found her somebody to swap with but the seat is on the opposite side of the aircraft to her husband, who is currently in the seat behind her. I offer to move instead so that they can sit together and she gratefully accepts, while I’m waiting for a suitable moment to move across she cheerfully tells me her husband has been hunting. I bite my tongue – I’m furious that I’ve done a kindness for somebody who thinks it’s OK to kill for pleasure.

Sleep eludes me, so I spend the flight trying to edit my photos down to a manageable number and reliving a fabulous trip. I am envious of the others, who are extending their stays, one group in South Africa and the other in Zimbabwe and Botswana. Bobby-Jo is off for a few days well-earned R&R before leading her next group. I'm sad to leave Africa, but looking forward to seeing my family again.

FOOTNOTE

I travelled with Duma Safaris, a small company specialising in wildlife photographic tours in Africa and beyond. We were led by co-owner Bobby-Jo Vial, a zookeeper and wildlife photographer, who enriches the trip with expert advice on photography and fascinating insights into animal behaviour. I learned more than on any previous wildlife trip and can heartily recommend Duma to anybody who wants to get the most out of their wildlife sightings. She's great company, too.

Leaving Kgaligadi

Bobby-Jo has arranged for us to have a slightly shorter game drive this morning, so that we can begin the long drive back to Upington. Having heard the lion we are keen to see him – and Bobby-Jo has been hoping to see a lion with the distinctive black mane that only occurs here. Our first sighting is 3 spotted hyena, quite close to the gate, and then some giraffe silhouetted against the pinkening of the dawn. We stop for a team photo in the dry riverbed, then drive on. There are secretary birds, more giraffe, two cheetah resting under a tree and some springbok fighting.

We find some giraffe drinking at a waterhole and Bobby-Jo tells us to look out for the water that falls from their mouths in as S-shape as they raise their heads. We’ve been told that the lion who was roaring last night has been sighted along the dry river bed and when we get there the lion spoor is on top of the tyre tracks we made earlier – we may have only just missed it. There’s no sign of it now though.

There is still some packing up to be done when we get back but Mike has made reasonable progress and we’re still ahead of schedule. When most of it has been done Sue, Denise, Karen, Louise and I go to Namibia. We’re conscious that there’s a lion nearby and feel rather vulnerable as we leave the compound of the immigration office. The shop is further then we thought – the small building that can be seen from the border has been closed down and we have to continue to the farmhouse which appears deserted. We manage to locate the owner and buy a few souvenirs and some cold drinks for the journey. We’re back and on the road by 10am.

The journey to Upington is along entirely paved roads, but it’s 370km so it will take a while. The first 120km are inside the park so there are opportunities to spot game along the way, including 2 male cheetahs lying in the shade and a drongo chasing a crow; this prompts Bobby-Jo to call the drongo the “honey badger of the bird world” as it’s fearless (or stupid!) enough to take on anything.  She has been hoping to see a honey badger but it’s one of the few things that have eluded us. We stop to photograph a pair of secretary birds and a kori bustard strides into shot, then a lanne falcon flies by. A moment later a pale form tawny eagle seizes a Namaqua dove from the air and flies above the combi to land in a nearby tree.

We’re almost out of the park when a sleeping bag suddenly bounces down the windscreen and lands on the bonnet, obligingly staying there are Mike slows the combi. He drives carefully to a more open spot where he can safely retrieve it and we continue to the gate. Fortunately nothing else has escaped from the tarp and from here it’s paved roads. We listen to music as we drive, some of Mike’s and some of Bobby-Jo’s. There’s a fair bit of singing, and we all join in the tracks we know, singing Toto’s “Africa” with particular enthusiasm. Although our trip’s nearly over everybody is in good spirits.

We stop briefly to photograph a bushman who has a small display of trinkets hanging from a line by the road. The Australians can’t buy any as they are made from nuts and seeds and wouldn’t make it through immigration. The man is stick-thin and wears just a loincloth made from the skin of a caracal; money changes hands and he poses for photos. I turn to watch a well-built woman striding towards us with an axe in her hand and a basket on her head; she joins the man and I realise they are a couple. I think I know who is in charge …

Eventually the sandy scrub gives way to buildings as we near Upington; Mike points out a heliostat which generates electricity from solar energy using computer-controlled mirrors which keep the sun reflected on a target as the sun moves across the sky. We arrive back at Riverplace Manor and check in once again. Sue, Louise and Karen swim, I sit on a lounger next to the pool and chat to them. We eat here tonight; Kalahari lamb for me and a glass of merlot, which I am learning to love. The hotel's music adds a surreal note ... it has been a long time since I've heard those "hot hits" cover LPs from the 70s.