March 10, 1990: Maidenhead to Marlow
The Thames from the A404 road bridge near Marlow
On Saturday, March 10, 1990, I reassembled some of the troops for another day’s outing on the Thames Path. Dorothy and I had reached Windsor the previous May, but I decided not to walk the section between Windsor and Maidenhead –because it is identical to a stretch of the London Countryway completed in 1985. Instead I decided to walk from Maidenhead to Marlow, also a stage of the LCW – but with enough variations to make the journey a worthwhile re-introduction to walking – not a step having been taken since October’s Alternatives in France.
Dorothy had a sore back and Tosh and I had decided to walk only on the previous day. I noticed ASL counselor Al Greenberg in the six items or less line at Waitrose after school, and he agreed to join us by coming down to Morshead Mansions at about 8:30. This was because I had decided to give the car a rare outing too: we would drive to Marlow, leave the car there and take the train back to Maidenhead. In fifteen minutes we had added Tosh and Harold, picked up at their door for the first time. Toby, who sat on Tosh’s lap, was too excited to relax. Fortunately the M40 journey went extremely quickly, not more than 40 minutes from the Lee’s house in Acton. We arrived at about 9:30 and searched for a place to park the car. There was a car park near the Marlow halt, clearly marked, but it seemed to belong more to the local ambulance crew and the British Legion than to British Rail and I fretted a bit the rest of the day about leaving it there.
There was time to show Al the magnificent view from Marlow Bridge before our 10:00 o’clock departure. We marched quite briskly up to the high street (past the Jolly Fryer again) and through the churchyard (which contained the graves of some Lees). Then it was quick march back to the station for the train, which was just pulling in. Al tried to use both his Network South East and his gold card and so confused the first guard that a more experienced reinforcement had to be called. Toby had to pay 70 pence.
We got off in Maidenhead at 9:23. There was a stop for candy and a newspaper in front but before we could get started Tosh wanted to use the loo as well. Inquiries were made. By this time four kids were following us, also looking for the loos. And what a merry dance we lead them before finally regaining our original platform – where the facilities were at last located.
Once again we tried to make a getaway from Maidenhead station. I was using only the OS map here and there had been a number of changes – but I was sure I was moving us back in the direction of the river. Tosh struck another candy shop while I debated with Al on the need for at least one female counselor in his office. This topic, however, received only the briefest of attention since most of our conversation was dominated by another far more momentous one: the sacking of a high school teacher two days earlier.
It seemed to take us forever to get up to the Maidenhead Bridge and even when we had accomplished this it wasn’t possible to escape the traffic until we had pulled up to Boulters Inn. (This spot actually marked the 800th mile for Harold.) We had a stroll behind the inn, which I remembered so well because I had had to sit out here in the chill with Bertie, banned from the bar, while the others started lunch in 1985. Directly opposite Boulters Inn was Ray’s Mill Road East; to the vet clinic at the end of this street we had taken the stricken Bertie when he was killed by a car in Twyford later that same summer. It helped to have his straining brother in tow now, but I must say I was very unhappy to be reminded of all this.
A real path along the river now beckoned us. The water was quite high but the signs of recent flooding had receded. Fields were full of fallen debris however, and every now and then there was a fallen tree in our path, a reminder of the great storm of January 26th and some more recent periods of high winds. Fishermen had glumly staked out every few meters of riverbank but none of them reported much action. Many trees were in blossom and the daffodils were bobbing about on a fairly breezy but bright morning. It was lovely to be moving forward at last.
For several miles the views were dominated by Cliveden, across the water. We wondered if one of the waterside cottages on its grounds had been that used by Stephen Ward at the time of the Profumo affair.
Toby was getting to stretch his legs at last and I had trouble getting him to wait for the rest of us. He seemed to know not to rush into the river after the ducks and swans but we hooked him every time there were cows or horses nearby.
Eventually we had to turn away from the river and head inland along a woodland path. This brought us out to Sutton Road, not far from the center of Cookham. This was just as well because Tosh was beginning to agitate for lunch. At the intersection with the High Street I noted the presence of the Stanley Spencer gallery, which I had always wanted to visit. Across the street was the Bel and Dragon pub. Inquiries were made and there was a section to which dogs were admitted.
We had a very nice lunch, though I had only half a lager – remembering that I still had to do some driving. Across from us they were feeding some poor stroke victim with a straw. I had a toasted ham and cheese sandwich and the rest of them had some homemade soup. Tosh and I then had raspberry cheesecake. Toby got some biscuits but he didn’t need any water. He had become adept and slipping down to the riverside whenever he was thirsty.
At 1:00 or so we crossed over to the gallery. Al stayed outside with the dog while the rest of us had a peek. It was rather disappointing: Christ Preaching to the Cookham Regatta incomplete and the best of Spencer’s work no doubt scattered in other museums.
I found a way back to the river through the flowering churchyard and we resumed the towpath, once again using a completely different route than that taken by the LCW. It was brisk now but not too bad and the wide horizons were still lovely. We passed a line of bungalows and two Schnauzers ran out to greet us – which is more than can be said for their dour owners. A pub, which fortunately had not figured in my plans, seemed to have been abandoned. Toby really wanted to send two feeding swans airborne as we passed a grassy field but he was restrained from doing so.
Once again we ran out of towpath and had to turn inland, crossing a field to rejoin the road up Winter Hill – last used by us in 1985. It wasn’t at all steep, in spite of Tosh’s demand that she needed to aerate. At the top we returned to tarmac, passed a viewpoint with parked cars, and, near Dial House, plunged back into woodland on a narrow path. Here we began to encounter some serious obstacles to our progress. Trees blocked the pathand in some stretches the latter had slipped down the bank. It was quite clear that we had to go straight ahead, past some lads cleaning up debris, when we should have gone to the right. We came out on the Quarry Hill Road and I turned us to the right here.
At a turning I searched for a continuation of our path off to the right and found it, the memory of 1985′s walk helping me a good deal. We began a descent using some steps but once again we encountered a lot of obstacles. I didn’t want to climb back up so we persevered. Toby had the easiest time of all, managing to get under all the debris. Tosh had some trouble struggling over a fallen giant. The back yard fences of nearby residents had been crushed in many places as we threaded our way down to the foot of Quarry Hill Road.
Here we were back in open spaces, using the road verge to head for Marlow. But soon after the Scout Boating Centre I used the variation recommended in the Thames Way guides, climbing up to the A404 road bridge and turning right on pavement to cross over to the north bank of the river. Here we descended to follow more towpath into late afternoon sunshine. Church bells were joyously celebrating.
As we neared Marlow we were turned away from the river. Yuppies were loading their kayaks onto their cars after an afternoon in the river. We followed back streets that allowed us to emerge on the station road next to the Jolly Fryer. Thus we were back to the car shortly before 4:00. The car was, of course, quite safe and sound.
I loaded Mahler’s Third into the tape deck as we drove off. Everyone, including Toby, was soon asleep. There was a speedy return journey again, but Harold brought me through some fine Saturday afternoon traffic as we left the A40 in Ealing. I then returned to the A40 and continued east. Toby looked like he was about to throw up just as I finished my twisting and turning to let Al off next to a 28 bus stop on Chippenham road. The dog succeeded in holding it all down after all, and was soon snoozing happily on the sofa.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: