It was supposed to be so simple - follow the AA's instructions and have a gentle partly-riverside walk not far from London. A vague recollection in the area of the Slough parishes I audited half a lifetime ago, and a distant view of Windsor castle. An accidental trip the into the neighbouring Berkshire village of Eton Wick before we sussed out where the car park is - hidden, difficult to find, not well-used, and free!
It was almost the epitome of a lovely English summer's day as we crossed Dorney Common. Blue skies, fluffy white clouds, warm but not uncomfortably hot. Not as beautiful as the commons local to me but picturesque in a bleak way. Some of the houses near the common were worth a second glance.
Going into the village pub was a mistake. In hindsight, it wasn't entirely their fault, for reasons that will become apparent. The place was absolutely heaving and chaotic, understaffed and with no apparent system - and it was an hour from arrival to when we got our food, which wasn't really worth the wait, to be honest, rather overpriced for indifferent grub, eatable but bland.
However, in their defence, there was an event nearby, call the Colour Obstacle Rush. Apparently, you run a short distance and get powder paint thrown over you, which, apparently, is a great day out. Okay, I can see the attraction, sort of, but it was very badly organised. As far as I could tell, they had suggested that participants go to the pub for food but had forgot to tell the pub to expect them.
We followed a sign to a "12th century church" but I think it was probably 17th century, at the earliest, built on a previously used site.
From there, following the AA instructions we walked up to Eton Dorney lake, in order to gain access to the Thames Path. But access was blocked, by the Colour Obstacle Rush. It seemed a truly ghastly event - low rent formulaic dance music blaring out at ear bleeding volume, a paltry selection of dismal stalls, and a huge number of people, clearly non-participants, just hanging around. Oh and a snotty scraggy steward, who was very rude when she officiously informed us that access to the river was closed. Oh thank you for your ever-so-helpful but non-existent signs on the main road. But, apparently, we could walk down the lake and access the river from there. But, she added, it's two kilometres and the look on her face was 'but I doubt you're up to that unlike my bunch of jogsters'. One of those sad bitches who's 'into' sport but isn't any good at it, so hangs around organising 'events' and insulting people who aren't interested in her particular inane activity.
I tell you, Eton Dorney lake is the most boring 2 km imaginable. A taxpayer gift to the hugely over-privileged boys of Eton College, used for just a few days for the Olympics, desecrating the countryside, and blocking access to the Thames Path. We trogged along the path behind some sad specimens of humanity eg two blokes who had brought their toddler out and said toddler was now fractious. Who seriously thinks that low rent loud dance music is a great day out for a toddler?
God, that walk was boring. I wouldn't have minded if there had been some rowing action taking place, no such luck. No wildlife around the lake just managed grass and concrete. I did see two ducks but they were obviously lost. So boring. I cannot emphasise how boring that was. Really really really boring.
Eventually, after what seemed like several days' hard trudging, we reached the top of Lake Boring. If we had known from the start that we couldn't have accessed the Thames Path near the village we would have walked there and back from this point, which was just yards from where we parked the car. But I calculated that 'there and back' would be another 6km at least, I really couldn't be bothered.
Instead we walked down to Boveney Lock and sat there a while. A busy lock, controlled by a lock keeper, and with boats queuing to enter from each side, able to take four boats at a time. On a hot Sunday afternoon in June, there is no shortage of entertainment at a lock. They take time to get through, might as well relax, put the kettle on even.
When people have come from the higher part of the river, they hop out of the boat onto the lockside. The water level falls, the boat sinks down the lock, and the people realise they have quite a long jump, onto a boat that isn't securely rooted!
Not in my nature to laugh, not at all - rather them than me, though!
Between the lock and the car park was a little chapel. I'm not into religion at all, but regard churches as a useful repository of social history, usually the only accessible one in most locations. So I was interested in the Chapel of St Mary Magdalene, and that it served the bargemen and other river workers when there was a wharf nearby (can't be having that sort in the standard village church, what). I noticed a sign advertising The Friends of Friendless Churches. I'm not sure what to think. The country is over-provided with churches, and the need to preserve them in aspic hinders progress. But not all progress is positive, and I'm not sure which historic, medieval churches I would propose to demolish.
Before lunch
and after, along Lake Boring
