This is the account of my sixth and last weekend, which I have completed by foot instead of by bike. Why, you could argue. It is called Britonfolder for a reason. That’s true, but it’s also true that safety goes before the challenge. Because without safety there is no challenge, only loss. Philosophical, thus true. Before this weekend, Britain had to deal with the heaviest snowfall in more than thirty years. Certainly the longest period of snowfall. For more than two consecutive weeks it had snowed without a stop. Now it finally looked like the problems coming with it would be resolved in the prospect of sun and rain. The result for me was less favourable, because the road and cyclepaths had become extraordinarily slippery. The molten snow had become a greasy sludge and the ice on top of it was like a mirror, so smooth. Therefore, it was impossible to cycle. Because there was nothing that could stop me from bringing Britonfolder to a successful end, I decided to go walking. The only adjustment was that I couldn’t cover the whole route, which was more than 100 miles, from Oxford to London. Hence, I would walk the first bit ( from Oxford to Abingdon ) and the last bit ( from Eton to London ) . And that’s the way it happened. Starting in Oxford at Osney Bridge, I slipped over the Thames Valley path. I watched the University students rowing with their coaches cycling over the path where I was walking to advise and support them. They shouted vigorous language to the boys, who with their zealous efforts went much faster than the coach could cycle. After I had let the rowing boots behind me, I came into the village of Sandford, where I sat down for a moment to recover. It was a bit drizzly so I walked on to don’t suffer from hypothermia. The next villlage was Radley, which was not more than a private-owned boat letter company. The part between Radley and Abingdon was another 3 miles, and the toughest part of the route. The path became more and more slippery and a large amount of dirty mud sticked to my shoes, which are fortunately adept to this kind of walking. I had a breathtaking moment when a enormous group of geese flew very close over my head. The noise they produced was astonishing. The nearer I came to Abingdon, the worse the path became. Finally there was no path left any more. The only thing I saw in front of me was a large pool. I climbed over a fence and tried to walk between two rivers in a rough meadow. I succeeded by using this way twice. The third time I stood as far as my calfs into the water. It was almost swimming instead of walking. I had almost lost heart, until I discovered a cycling path, the nr. 5 one, very close to where I was standing. With my trousers and socks soaked, I carried it off to walk to Abingdon centre. I didn’t feel my limbs and muscles anymore. However, the satisfaction I had was winning. In Abingdon I headed for the bridge over the Thames, the finish of Thames path nr. 6. I hoped that tomorrow would be a drier day.
Saturday the 16th of January
Advertisement
