September 29, 1991: Whitehouse Farm to Goring
Sheep on Roden Downs
On my fourth Ridgeway walk I made progress without companion – the first solo walk in some time. Dorothy was visiting her mother in St. Anne’s and I was on my own anyway. I very much needed the exercise and some respite from London migration traumas, though I was not able to shut from my mind entirely the anxieties stemming from my overheating VW or the long-term worries about how to make a living in my new country. However it was certainly a factor in our move to London that I would be able to enjoy outings like today’s, and so it was with some anticipation that I began my preparations one Tuesday morning at 6:00.
When I reached the bus queue it was still dark. At Paddington I bought a ticket for the 7:00 Didcot train and I still had time to purchase a cup of coffee, which, in 1981, seemed extravagantly overpriced at 28 pence. My fast train to the west was full of American tourists and Welshmen heading home.
I had embarked on so early a journey because there was some threat of a rain front due later in the afternoon. Now it was clear and sunny, but cool as I left the train at Didcot at 7:39. The Wantage bus was waiting outside and at 7:54 it departed. Once again there were many school children getting on an off during a not particularly interesting passage to Wantage Market Place – where we arrived at 8:20. I noticed several cabs at the taxi rank and the first cabbie agreed to take me back up to the Ridgeway if I would show him the way – since he was new to the area. This I was able to do, although the trip was over so quickly that we had actually shot by last time’s exit point before I could get him to stop at the continuing track off the A338. The trip cost £1.85 plus tip and was well worth it – since I had fourteen and a half miles to go today.
It was 8:40 – one of my earliest walking starts ever. I returned the short distance back to the red pillar box where Howard and I had emerged from the Ridgeway path last time and then I retraced my steps to the new track to Whitehouse Farm. A farmer greeted me with a “Good morning,” and a “Be a nice day” in accents straight from the commercial for Bowyers Pork Pies. It was however a very nice day for walking, still sunny and crisp but not too cold – I was able to wear my brown hat and red sweatshirt without additional covering today. It was quite clear and the views to the north were extensive. The route was level most of the day and I was doing almost three miles an hour. I had a brief rest at the monument to Crimean War veteran Baron Wantage, where I extracted a delicious Saveway apple from my pack, munching it contentedly as I marched eastward. There were a few walkers going west but I noticed very few genuine Ridgeway walkers going my way.
The views ahead were dominated by the huge Didcot Power Station and also by the Harwell atomic energy station, whose cooling towers were sending up an ominous steam below the
ridge. I whistled Elgar’s First and trudged steadily eastward, pausing every now and then for a photo and looking behind me to see if the clouds were massing yet. The sunlight became more patchy but walking conditions remained favorable. A number of ridge crossing roads were encountered, including the busy A34, which took me some time to dash across.
Accompanying the path were racehorse gallops and indeed I saw two horses being exercised on these. A land rover being driven by a twelve year-old passed me several times. I met another farmer who put me in my place by adding, “Nice morning for your work.” He asked me where I was going and assured me (quite prematurely) that I hadn’t far to go. Hoping to capitalize on local wisdom I asked him if I was likely to make it to Goring before the rain. “Is it going to rain?” he answered in some surprise.
Near the Agricultural Research Council Experimental Area I encountered a stalled car on a concrete section of the Ridgeway. The driver asked me if I would help him with a push start, so I threw off my hat, pack, and camera and assisted his girlfriend in shoving the little car across a level stretch. The car was moving along at some speed before, indeed, the engine kicked over. My calf muscles smarting some, I walked back to get my stuff and was about to make my next turn-off when I met two other walkers who had witnessed this good deed and were mockingly concerned that perhaps I had thereby exhausted my energy reserves for the day.
After a descent to the old Blewbury Crossing I began my first and only major ascent of the day, up Roden Downs. There were quite a few puddles in the road and as the foliage on either side of the route increased there were some muddy spots difficult to get around. I met a couple and a black Labrador named Judy. They passed me a second time when I sat down to have my lunch in a dry spot overlooking a newly turned field. The woman said. “I’ve worked up quite an appetite too.” It was a bit chilly sitting on the ground. I had been keeping up a fast pace for about three and a half hours now, wanting to get beyond any route finding difficulties before any moisture arrived. There had been few ambiguities, however, something that could be said for the entire western portion of the Ridgeway – which was even easier to follow than the South Downs Way. When there was a problem I usually found I could rely on my map reading skills more than Jennett’s text.
Now I completed the ascent to Warren Farm and here encountered a gravel road that lead straight as an arrow downhill toward Streatley. I was in a very lovely little valley – with several interesting houses including the huge Thurle Grange. The tree leaves here were beginning to turn. Rooks or ravens (I couldn’t get close enough to see) cawed their little hearts out. As I passed the golf club it began to get darker and so I kept up my brisk pace on the tarmac and pavements of Streatley, getting a blister on the ball of my foot for my pains.
I walked over the Thames bridge at Goring, taking a number of photos of the locks and weirs. It was a wonderful scene. It was 2:15 or thereabouts. I had completed fourteen and a half miles in a little over five and a half hours. I stopped at the riverside general store and bought some postcards from a fat lady whose bare midriff – squeezing over the confines of her brown stretch pants – gave me an uneasy moment. I sat on a bench and wrote a postcard to the missing Howard, which I mailed at the post office. This delay caused me to spend an extra hour in the Goring waiting room, since I had just missed a train. I had arrived so early that I didn’t have with me the early afternoon train times. Now I had to wait for the 3:34. Sure enough, just as I entered the station it began to drizzle – just as it had done at the end of days one and two. I used the time to read up on the next stage of the journey.
I changed trains in Reading and arrived back at Paddington at 4:30. It was also beginning to drizzle when I got off the tube at Ladbroke Grove a few minutes later. Tony and Clark were still sitting in Between The Sheets when I returned to give them a brief summary of my day’s experiences.
To continue with the next stage of the walk you need: