A Bimble down the Thames Ashton Keynes to Cricklade

Ashton Keynes is a picturesque village in the ‘on the water’ Cotswolds style, as rivulets pass through the town.  Homes have their own little bridge to cross making for an idyllic, pastoral scene.

 I once made a bad decision to cycle through Swindon ,two roads diverged after Cricklade, and this is what I missed! The Thames plain makes it perfect for cycling and away from the river you are quickly into quiet, green lanes that are flat and isolated. Momentarily I am intrigued by signs for an ‘Ironman’ contest. I’ll leave that one there!

Looking for roundhead vandalism and headless crosses I lose the path for a while and end up at the picturesque village church which demands a pause.  Another St Mary ! There are over 50 holy places bearing this devotion along the Thames, including one in Barnes, where both my sister and aunt got married.  I ponder about my own votive saint in the guise of Isis, an earth mother, symbol of fertility and re-birth, nurturing the plain of middle England. I ordain the white swan her earthly form, gracing the river throughout my journey, constant companion. If she is a bit hissy at times this is her role as protector and nurturer.  A swan is a magical bird and the Thames in early summer allows for an inspirational insight into their lives. 

Mated for life, pairs dote on their young and glide effortlessly but purposefully, always aware of spatial boundaries. A stern look or a ruffle of plumage bears a message to a wary trespasser and keeps the young in check.  From a canoe the behaviours are ever more noticeable as you share their space, careful not to crowd these elegant mysteries. I had an epiphany on this stretch and stopped in my tracks as a young family fed in the infant Thames.  I would call this a moment when time stops still and the wonder of the natural world fills one with awe.  Special moments that inspire a lust for life.

I spend a while futilely looking for Beavers which have been re-introduced to the area and delicate Snake’s Head Fritillaries in North Meadow before entering Cricklade.  The River Churn begins 12 miles north of Cricklade and its confluence with the Thames created a strategically and historically important town at a key crossing and transit point. the Churn lends its names to villages it passes like Cerney and Cirencester. It begins at Severn Springs which is 330 feet higher up on the Cotswold escarpment and was viable enough for the Romans to use such defensive advantages to crown a mighty town upon the waters, Corinium. Logically this must be the real source of the Thames as it is the highest tributary of the river and all must go downhill eventually. The Romans also named this key artery Tamesis or ‘dark water’ and saw the river as the key to dominating the lands beyond. 

The names of tributaries of the River evoke their history and purpose and lure the adventurer to explore further. A week later most of these were in flood after monumental June downpours: Ray, Coln, Key, Churn, Leach, Windrush, Evenlode, Churwell, Pang, Kennet, Berry, Loddon, Wye, Bourne, Wey, Ash, Mole, Rythe,  Hogsmill, Crane, Brent, Stamford, Beverley, Wandle, Westbourne, Tyburn, Effra, Fleet, Walbrook, Ravensbourne, Lea, Roding, Beam, Ingre, Darent, Mardyke…

I thought I would try to link them together as I sat by the Churn’s mouth as it fed into the Thames; 

A mighty Ash marks the source…

the Wey, the Key to the manor Bourne. 

Mole burrows and Rythes, 

Fleet of foot, a Wey down river to the Thames.

Even Lode, brother of Loddon, 

feels the Windrush and water Churn, 

Stamford battles Tyburn’s noose, 

Beverly Daren’t Wandle beyond

Ravensbourne and Brent, 

as they Crane their Beam toward the flood

Kennnet survive ‘til Mardyke?