We (Beaumont, Kerslake, Di Miles and myself) parked up outside The Red Lion (another fine hostelry) in Cricklade and set off at a fair lick. We were planning a rendezvous somewhere along the route with Graham Miles and his new knee, and Beau was already twitchy about timings.
The Thames Path twisted its way northwards out of Cricklade, through farmyards and fields, past horses and farmers who ignored us or smiled benignly. Only the sheep seemed nervous and backed away knowingly as Beaumont approached. We skirted North Meadow, famous for its purple-headed fritilleries, not at this time of year though. Then we wove our way through the lakes of the Cotswold Water Park through the villages of Ashton Keynes and then Somerford Keynes.
Birdwise a fine flock of fieldfares was spotted foraging in the stubble and Beaumont scored several points by correctly identifying a red-crested pochard despite Leslie’s initial scepticism.
There followed some tense moments as maps were consulted in an attempt to determine the exact time and place we were to rendezvous with Graham. And when Beaumont confidently announced he calculated we should see Graham just round the next bend we laughed openly. To our astonishment there he was, striding impressively towards us. Humble pie was distributed and painfully swallowed.
A touching and tearful scene followed as husband and wife were reunited and the party continued along grassy paths to pay our compliments to the source of the Thames. Not much to see - an unimpressive pile of stones and an explanatory board in the corner of a field.
There just remained a pleasant stroll along a section of the disused but picturesque Thames and Severn Canal and the Tunnel House Inn was reached with its excellent selection of real ales. A proper end to any epic walk.
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