May 9, 2006: Marlow to Hambleden
Another springtime glory – bluebells!
After the usual “I’m busy, can’t walk that day” palaver from the Lees, we agreed at last to select Tuesday, May 9, as our next walk day. I was anxious to get in a walk before they disappeared on another travel junket (Alaska this time) and we were all willing to risk the possibility of some showers in order to take to the trail. In any event I was happy for an excuse to get out of the house, which is currently in the grips of the noisy and dusty builders – at work on adding an en suite bathroom to our bedroom.
I left the house on a very grey morning and walked to the Maida Vale tube stop. Here I should have been able to use my Freedom Pass but we were making an early start today because Tosh had a clarinet class to get back to in the evening and, at 8:15, the pass was not yet valid. I was astonished (if not outraged as well) to discover that a single to Paddington (two stops) was now £3.00. I remember when it was 90 pence.
When I entered the mainline station I could see that we were in trouble. Most of the westbound trains were delayed and this menaced our making the Marlow connection in a timely fashion. Furthermore the Lees were supposed to meet me in Maidenhead and Tosh had invited a clarinet playing friend, Jill Denniss, to join us today – on the principal that Jill, who was scheduled to walk on an island in Lake Titicaca next week, needed some conditioning. There was one positive development – after all these years Tosh had finally secured the uses of a mobile phone and while I was waiting in line to buy my ticket Dorothy’s phone, in my pocket, started a Tchaikovsky racket.
In Ealing Broadway Tosh had discovered the same train problem that was bedeviling me in Paddington but she was really calling to tell me that her friend Louise was certain that buying singles to Marlow would be much better than buying returns at this hour (when our Senior Rail cards were also useless) and so, for £10, I bought a single. Tosh also wanted me to hunt for Jill in all the ruck of the Paddington concourse (Jill found me) and we agreed to take the first available train to Maidenhead and meet there. (Returns, as I had suggested, would have saved us three or four quid today – so much for Louise.)
Jill, a retired NHS health visitor from Belsize Park, was not at all panicked by our scheduling discomfiture and agreed with me that the best strategy was to take the delayed 8:48 rather than wait for the delayed 9:03. This meant we began our long walk over to distant Platform 24, where a train was waiting, and here we sat for close to half an hour hoping for some sign of movement. It came at last, well after 9:03, for that matter, and we chugged westward as I tried to call Tosh. She had turned her phone off accidentally but she did call me to report that she and Harold were already in Maidenhead.
The journey was very dull, as was the day, with Slough-bound business folk poking at their laptops across the aisle. An Asian couple with little English asked us if this were the right train for Windsor and we told them to change at Slough. Our train compartment had no electronic announcements and no map of the system to aid passengers in this decision. At 9:53 we reached Maidenhead, ten minutes after our Marlow train had departed, and here we had a brief discussion with the Lees on what to do next.
I didn’t want to wait fifty minutes for the next Marlow connection and suggested we take a taxi. This was agreed to but after we had gone through the barrier Tosh decided she wanted to use the loos and so we re-entered and climbed up to Platform 4. I had missed out on my station coffee fix at Paddington so I now ordered a small cup of black coffee from a kiosk called Coffeemongers. Outside there was a taxi rank and we were soon on our way back to Marlow in lovely lush green countryside in the back of a black cab.
Tosh seemed to think we could use the cab to get all the way back to the Chiltern Way but I demurred – since this would leave only some six miles to be walked instead of the eight or so I had planned as a suitable day’s outing. We crossed the old Thames bridge at Marlow and were just approaching Station Road when my mobile phone went off again. I had to hand Tosh my hot cup of coffee in order to answer – it was Michaela Best, our decorator, looking for Dorothy. The ride had cost us only £14 – well worth it since it enabled us to start at 10:15, only ten minutes or so after we would have begun had our train connection worked.
We now began to retrace our route back to the Three Horseshoes at Burroughs Grove, some mile and three quarters to the north. I didn’t need to consult a map during this process and it was fun to see how the gardens had matured in the few weeks since we had last been here. There was a little less traffic and it was a bit easier to cross roads. Just as we started off there were a few drops but the sun was trying to come out at the same time and we were never bothered by moisture again. We made brisk work of the first stint, slowed only by the need to identify flowers or birds. At a bus halt I found a rubbish bin where I could get rid of my coffee cup. The beech hedges, which had looked dead last time, were now in leaf, including some copper beech sections on our left. I was pleased to see that Jill was moving well and, in her white tennis shoes, experiencing no difficulty in the path along the verge that we used to climb ever higher with our road.
We reached Burroughs Grove at 11:00 and shortly after passing the pub I pulled up at a stile where the Chiltern Way headed west through a cornfield on a well blazed path. I paused to take off my sweatshirt and arrange papers in my map case and at about 11:05 we were ready to proceed. For most of the morning Tosh was out in front, followed by Jill, then by me, then by Harold.
Things were fairly level at first, though we encountered more rolling countryside at Juniper Hill. A series of bridleways took us out to Hill Farm Road in Marlow Bottom and then we followed green lanes and hedged alleys behind houses as we continued in a mostly western direction. At a suburban cul-de-sac I made the mistake of assuming that the road on our left was Beechtree Avenue. There were no street signs up here but I decided to continue on this road until I found one – it confirmed that we had turned a block or so too quickly. There was a nice dividend, however, for twice we passed a friendly moggy who came over to be stroked.
Having reach Beachtree Avenue a minute or so later we turned left to find a tarmaced pathway between houses and this was followed downhill to Marlow Bottom itself. They were building houses on our right and a chap had just arrived to exchange portaloos. We turned left on a busy suburban street but soon it was time to cross it and head uphill on a narrow alleyway. On our right there was now a recreation ground adjacent to a school and we continued uphill on the left side of this grassy expanse, turning right along a raised bank in search of a path into Whitehill Wood. From this woodland there soon emerged a school group, six or seven year-olds holding hands and giggling merrily as they ended a nature walk.
Tosh and Jill were still out in front here and they must have missed a waymark sign on a post because I was soon following them ever deeper into the woods while clues in the guidebook made less and less sense. We arrived at the top of the woods near a roadway that seemed to me to resemble what we were looking for on the guide’s map but there were no waymarks here and so we continued forward and reached the ornate gate of a house called Woodlands. Still no CW waymarks so we continued on a northerly trod within the wood (which was a lovely place to be) and eventually followed a white path down into suburbia. We were lost.
Unfortunately the OS map was of little help (Whitehill Wood not even receiving a mention here) and so I decided we just had to go back to the recreation ground and start all over again. There was some muttering about this, especially as we had to walk uphill now, but in ten minutes or so we had passed Woodlands again, the exit road at the top of the wood as well, and reached the spot where the red-uniformed youngsters had exited onto the recreation ground. Here I did find a CW waymark (it kept us, mysteriously, on the east, lower side of the wood instead of using the more defined paths inside the wood) and I insisted on taking the lead here so as to follow instructions as closely as possible. Only when I turned the page did I see that all would have been much clearer if I had been looking at the entire text for this area. The official route lead us back up to Woodlands and from here we turned up to the exit road I had long favored (there is a much more direct way to reach this spot, CW planners) and now at last we escaped Whitehill Wood. I was required by Tosh to promise that I would give credit for all this extra mileage and I added a mile – making today’s total nine.
Our lane reached the B482 and we crept along the verge after a left turn. Then we crossed the road and took a lane past the ancient buildings of Seymour Court, reputedly the birthplace of Lady Jane Seymour. There were some great views off to our left from this height but soon, at End Farm House, we were directed downhill steeply into a valley bottom – where we crossed Munday Dean Lane. Tosh was complaining of hunger at this point but I assured her we hadn’t long to go before reaching our noontime pub. Unfortunately this now required a steep uphill climb into woodland where gradients at last leveled off as we used lanes to approach Chalkpit Lane and the Royal Oak at Bovingdon Green.
It was shortly before 1:00 and we were all looking forward to a traditional pub lunch. But the Royal Oak, it soon became obvious, had been gentrified and what we entered was a kind of gastropub, with an extensive lunchtime menu and specials – none of which included Harold’s fish and chips. They did serve beer and I was soon downing my pint. None of us wanted a three-course meal and most of our concentration was bent on the “starters.” Then I discovered that they were serving open-faced steak sandwiches and chips and three of us ordered these when we were at last able to secure the attention of two chattering waitresses. Jill ordered a salmon dish but when it arrived it was a true starter, beautifully arranged with the fish wedged into a tower of blini rounds. “Is this all I get?” she moaned – sending Tosh into a frenzy of compensatory plate shuffling during which Jill received plenty of chips and the salad off Harold’s plate. The food was good.
Fortunately the food had arrived in a timely fashion and, after only forty-five minutes in the Royal Oak and a lengthy search for the men’s room we were ready to leave at about 1:45. We had 3.7 miles to go and my attention was drawn to the need to get a taxi to pick us up at the end of the walk so that we could get back to Marlow – and make the connections that would permit Tosh to make her clarinet class. I couldn’t get a signal on Dorothy’s mobile phone and had no luck with the pay phone either but once we got outside and turned into Bovingdon village itself I stopped under a web of overhead wires and had better luck with the mobile. The first firm I called had no car available but B&A cars in Marlow (a number I had gotten off the Internet) was able to meet us at 3:45 in Hambleden.
In bright afternoon sunshine I now took the lead, guidebook instructions at the ready, since any mistake like this morning’s would certainly doom our hopes of arriving in time for our taxi. We were moving in a mostly southwest direction along paths tucked behind farmsteads with wire fences to right and left. I was always glad to reach another recognizable landmark – even if it was only a stile that we were told to ignore. We followed an edge of Woolmer Wood and climbed into Davenport Wood – the woods were often carpeted with drifts of bluebells today and they were a delight.
Two dips in our path served as landmarks and then, following the usually useful advice of white arrows painted on trees, we turned first right then left to reach a road. More woodland beckoned and we encountered a multiplicity of paths but we were able to choose the right alternative on all occasions and soon we were heading steeply downhill (baby steps) and along the side of a hedge. A quarter of a mile later, in open territory, we found a stile and turned left, crossing two fields and stumbling onto a hidden roadway at the end. Here we turned right
Holmfield Wood was on our left and after a short bit of road walking we penetrated the valley bottom of this commercialized woodland to walk along an easy and level track. I had to stop once to retie my shoe and this gave me time to catch my breath and look at my watch. I was trying to maintain a lively pace and it still seemed likely that we would reach our goal on time but a sharp left turn now required a steep bit of uphill to escape the valley. I was getting tired but the others were not far behind me – so I persevered.
At the top of the hill we joined a road west of the hamlet of Bockmer End and turned right for 150 yards. A stile on our left led to a series of field crossings with a farming hamlet serving as a beacon on a route that crossed pathless green fields in which cows, including Highland cattle, blocked the stiles. I managed to get these creatures moving and escape the last field to arrive in the hamlet itself, Rotten Row. This moment coincided with the 3900th miles walked by me on British footpaths.
It also meant that we had just a mile to go and with forty minutes still on the clock I was beginning to feel more confident. For a while we were on tarmac heading west out of Rotten Row and then we had tracks across two fields as we neared our last bit of woodland, Rickoll’s Wood. As I climbed a stile into the woods I spotted a large brown dog in the underbrush. There was no owner nearby and I was wondering what the dog was doing here when I saw him a second time. He wasn’t a dog, he was a deer, a little muntjac deer. He was gone before the others caught up with me. Tosh paused to pee here and I followed suit after the others had gone ahead of me – for this was, I knew, our last bit of cover for the day.
A steep and overgrown path followed a field edge downhill – with fine views of the Thames Valley on our left. The undergrowth was so thick here you could feel the nettles through your trousers and I was glad to reach a lane and turn. Shortly before it re-entered woodland we turned left into a grassy field and soon located a parking lot at the end of the village street in Hambleden. Around the corner was the Stag and Hunstman, our rendezvous point. It was 3:40 and while we were standing around deciding where to wait for our driver a lovely people carrier cruised by us, turned around to fetch us, and we were soon on our way back to Marlow.
I just had time to spot the village store in Hambleden (we had been here with Jessica Bond while walking the original Chilterns Hundred in 1997) and later we passed the Dog and Badger in Medmenham, our lunch spot on the day we had walked from Marlow to Skirmett. Traffic was slow in Marlow itself but, with ten minutes to spare, we were delivered to the train halt shortly before 4:00.
Here we waited amid a mob of uniformed teenagers intently stuffing their faces with loaves of bread, M&M’s and ice lollies – when they were not on their mobile phones. The Lees and I bought tickets back to Zone 6 and we sat through another slow journey via Bourne End to Maidenhead. By this time, though she would obviously have time at home for a shower, Tosh was beginning to talk about skipping clarinet class! I was again outraged. “After we’ve been sprinting up hill and down dale all afternoon so you could make this train I expect you not only to got to class but to play the Mozart Clarinet Concerto from beginning to end standing on your head.”
Again we had just a few minutes on the platform in Maidenhead, long enough for me to make a return visit to Coffemongers. where I discovered they didn’t sell anything as humble as a Diet Coke and I had to settle for an expensive (though refreshing) bottle of orange and cranberry juice. The Lees got off in Ealing Broadway and Jill and I arrived at Paddington about 5:15, parting when we took the Bakerloo Line in opposite directions. Jill had proved to be an excellent walker, the 198th companion in my career as trail mentor. I made a brief stop at the cash machine in Maida Vale and another one at the market in order to refresh our builders’ supply of biscuits and at 5:45, just in time to join Dorothy for Judge Judy, I was home.
Having already walked west of Hambleden on Parson’s route we picked up the CW near Upper Maidensgrove and soon undertook the southern extension. Readers can check on how we had covered the intervening territory by looking for accounts of our walk on the Chilterns Hundred, elsewhere on this website. Much of the missing link would therefore be found on Chilterns Hundred sections, including:
Day 10: Nuffield to Stokenchurch
To continue with our walk on the Chiltern Way you need: