On long walks, day after day along a river, it’s impossible not to notice the boats, many of them progressing not much faster than I. I love to watch them but prefer to walk myself, imagining my legs itching to get moving after sitting on one for a while.
Walking along the 184 mile long Thames Path, I stopped and chatted with the fellow with the canoe. He’d spent weeks on the river, his wife bringing him provisions periodically. He’d just cooked himself breakfast and was enjoying it on this quiet stretch where he’d camped overnight. If I recall correctly, it was near Brunel’s South Stoke rail bridge which I walked under after continuing on my way.
Many of the boats one sees along the Thames are rented for boating holidays, some are tied up along the banks in rural places and lived aboard. There’s no end to the variety and I’ve come to think of the boats as English as the landscape that contains them. I have just a few more walking days left before I reach the end of the official path at the Thames Barrier, and I hope to return there soon to complete my walk.
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