Twenty miles Olympic Style and a towpath on the Thames

5 April 2015

Sunday morning was another early start. Commando had read about a company called The Race Organiser, who hold Marathon Preparation Races for people training for spring marathons. With the London Marathon just three weeks away, and his final long run on the horizon, he thought he’d give it a try. That way he’d be able to run his twenty miles under race conditions, with water stations, other runners and timing chips. As it was being held at Dorney Lake, in Windsor, around the lake built as the 2012 Olympic Venue for Rowing, Adapted Rowing and Flatwater Canoeing I was more than happy to go along as cheerleader, carrier of car keys and blister technician.

The sat nav got us to Dorney Lake, more or less, although the last few miles were slightly fraught with me having to act as navigator using instructions Commando had printed out from the Internet. Obviously I am not really navigator material but we made it in one piece and parked up in the car park well before the event was due to start. The weather was bright and sunny, with a slight morning haze over the water as we stood and looked out over the mirror like lake at the little orange bridge still sporting the Olympic Rings. The site is owned by Eton College although they host lots of events throughout the year, and, as you would expect from such a prestigious college, the facilities were second to none.

Once Commando had collected his chip at the Rowing Centre we had a little wander around the changing facilities, where there are showers and real changing rooms. It was a little too warm inside so, once Commando had stripped down to his running kit, we went back outside to gaze at the beautiful lake and watch as more runners arrived. It had the feel of an actual race rather than just a training run and I had to remind Commando not to get too competitive and remember he has a marathon in three weeks.

Originally I’d planned to walk around the lake while Commando was running but, once we were there, I could see this would probably be a bad plan. The course was five laps of the four mile track around the lake and I was pretty sure I’d get in everyone’s way, besides, there were way too many people about for my liking. By way of a warm up we took a little wander around the Rowing Centre building and, behind it, I spotted what looked very much like a towpath and a river, or possibly a canal. This looked more like my kind of walk and, when we noticed a gate leading to it a little further along, I checked out the satelite map on my phone. It turned out that the ‘canal’ was actually the River Thames and I was quite spoiled for choice when it came to walks. From its source to the Thames Barrier, the Thames Trail is one hundred and eighty four miles long, obviously I wasn’t going to have time for all of it but, when I saw what I’d find just two and a half miles to the east, I couldn’t wait to set off.

Although I was itching to get going there was still the small matter of the start of Commando’s twenty mile run first. For the next half hour, he stretched, paced and seruptitiously checked out the competition while I kept reminding him to take it easy and enjoy it. After all, it isn’t every day you get to use an Olympic facility. After what seemed like about four hours, the call came to line up for the start. With a kiss for luck Commando joined the crowd shuffling towards the start line. Almost at once I’d lost him in the crowd so I wandered onto one of the pontoons and took some photos of the long line of bright  Lycra reflected in the water of the lake. Once or twice I thought I spotted him but I couldn’t really be sure. As soon as the last of the runners crossed the start line I turned for the towpath.

Unfortunately the the sun had decided it didn’t want to shine after all and was hiding behind a layer of cloud by this time. Still, the river Thames looked green and serene, there were people and canoes on the bank and I had a towpath ahead of me. Even better, within a few feet I’d spotted barges on the bank. Although I’d hardly set off I stopped for a moment to look at the first barge, and dream of what it must be like to live on one, just another form of house envy I guess. This one was called Diamonds and Rust and there was a bike tied to the roof, it was also blue which is my favourite colour. I was in love with it in seconds.

Behind Diamonds and Rust a swan came towards the bank and I stopped again to take a photo. By sheer chance, at the exact same moment two more swans came flying past and photo bombed my shot. Swans really don’t fly all that much and usually, by the time I hear the womping of their huge wings, I’m too late to take a picture. The irony was not lost on me that I’d finally captured some in flight completely by accident. The picture I took of them on purpose is dominated by a power boat zooming along the river and the swans are tiny specks in the distance. Still, seeing these majestic birds in flight is treat enough.

A little further on I could see the fences of the Royal Windsor Race course on the opposite bank and there were more barges to captivate my imagination. The first had a statue of a little dog and a dog basket, the second had a Buddha on the roof along with a bike, bikes and dogs seem to be a theme with barges. Behind the Buddha barge was a more conventional type of houseboat. It was becoming clear I couldn’t stop to look at every barge or houseboat I came across or I was never going to get anywhere.

As I was approaching the first bend a pretty little stone and Flint chapel caught my eye. It looked abandoned but I liked the unusual weatherboard tower and the odd dado of pale bricks that seemed like an addition to the original chapel. Later I found out this was St Mary Magdalene Church, Boveney, dating from the twelfth century. The church was built for the barge men working on the Thames, there was once a quay beside it. The windows and tower were added in the fifteenth century and the dado of bricks turned out to be a nineteenth century attempt to keep out the damp. The chapel was closed in 1975. It was saved from demolition by the charity Friends of Friendless Churches in 1983.

For a while the river disappeared as I found myself walking through a tunnel of trees. There was blossom on the blackthorn and it felt as if I could have been on the Itchen Navigation except, being Windsor, the trail was of a superior quality with no mud but the fields I glimpsed through the trees were flat with no rolling Hampshire downs or familiar landmarks. I also spotted my first dandelion clock of the year.

When the river reappeared on the other side of the trees I was delighted to see a lock.  Unlike those on the Navigation, this was a working lock with gates and a lock house. It made me slightly sad to think of all the ones crumbling and abandonded on the Itchen. As I walked towards the lock head I spotted a little robin sitting on a fence post. Usually robins fly away at the first sign of me even thinking about taking a picture but I’m an optimist so I got my phone ready. It seems the birds on the Thames are a cooperative bunch and it stayed put as I moved slowly towards it snapping away. It didn’t fly off until I was within touching distance.

This is Boveney Lock, named after the nearby village of Boveney. Originally it was made of timber in 1838 by the Thames Navigation Commission and rebuilt with strong metal gates sixty years later. Behind it is an impressive weir but, from my perspective on the nortern bank, it was hidden by the lock itself. Of course I had to stand by the bridge over the lock head and peer down into the almost black water trying to reconcile this working lock with all the crumbling lock heads and tails I’m used to seeing. The lock chamber seemed longer than I expected and I stood and stared at the tail gates for a while trying to imagine them at Mansbridge, Brambridge or Conegar. I couldn’t.

Eventually I tore myself away and carried on along the winding trail beside the Thames. Ahead there was a tiny bridge to cross and beside the trail the landscape opened out into meadows. In the distance I could see the A332 crossing the same stream I’d just crossed, the map tells me this was Cuckoo Weir, originally the site of a mill owned by Burnahm Abbey.

Apparently there is a swan rescue centre along the stream and, alerted by splashing, I saw another flying swan making an ungainly exit from the river. Still smiling at my good fortune, I came to another bridge crossing what seems to be a tributary of Cuckoo Weir. Where the first bridge had been functional, this was a thing of beauty, weathered wood, covered with lichen and a pleasing arch. This, I discovered later, is called the Chinese Bridge and it was rebuilt in 1994, so is far younger than I’d thought.

The opposite bank was now lined by expensive looking properties so I knew I was getting closer to the place that had made me choose to walk east rather than west. In no time at all I was faced with another bridge. This was Elizabeth Bridge, carrying the A332, and I’d be going under rather than over for a change. As soon as I saw the graffiti I knew it must have something to do with the Olympic Games back in 2012. This was graffiti of a very superior kind, befitting such a prestigious area. Had I known more at the time I’d have been using my phone for more than taking pictures because this is the world’s first talking mural. Created as part of The Games Walk, a public art trail between Eton and Dorney, it was painted by London artist Cosmo Sarson. The patchwork of monochrome faces, play video and audio clips when a smart phone is pointed at them, allowing the visually impaired to enjoy the artwork.

Smiling and wondering about the graffiti, I carried on and, almost at once, came to another bridge, this one metal and fairly unremarkable. This is where the mill stream, Cuckoo Weir, returns to the Thames. It is also within sight of the Windsor Railway Bridge, carrying a branch line of the Great Western Railway from Slough to Windsor. The bridge was built by Isambard Kingdom Brunel as a single span to avoid using piers which would interfere with boats navigating the river. On the other side I would be able to see my final destination but I think I’ll leave that for another day.