The Thames: from Oxford to Its Source by Paul Blake
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Boy’s Own Paper April 21st, 1883 & 4 next issues THE THAMES: FROM OXFORD TO ITS SOURCE BY PAUL BLAKE THE THAMES: FROM OXFORD TO ITS SOURCE BY PAUL BLAKE Author of “A Week on the Thames”, etc. CHAPTER 1 Some of you will, I hope, remember that, in 1881, we, in fancy, travelled down the Thames together from Oxford to Richmond. I hope that not a few have made the journey in fact since then, and found that I did not exaggerate the beauties of our river or the pleasures to be derived from boating on it. But now we are to take a far different journey – from Oxford to the source – new ground (or water), I expect, to nearly all of you, for not one boatman knows Eynsham or Lechlade for a thousand who are well acquainted with Medmenham or Marlow. Let us suppose ourselves to be one of a small party met on the lawn at a house in Streatham one evening in last July. We know all who are present; they are the crew of the Swan. There lolls Figgis, the tall captain; that small fellow who is sitting just out of the captain’s reach and flipping cherry-stones at him is Budd, the irrepressible; Charlton and Martin are standing near, having just finished a match at tennis. “Now you fellows”, begins Budd, “it’s time we came to a decision of some sort. This is a regular meeting. I’ll be in the chair, as I’m the only one who has taken one. The question is ‘Where are we going to take the Swan this year?’ Is it to be up the torrid Niger, down the historic Seine, or once again on the never-sufficiently-to be- explored Father Thames?” That was the question, but it was not easy to answer. Some wanted to explore a fresh river, some to stick to the Thames. At last Charlton proposed a compromise. “Suppose we do the Thames to its source for once?” he suggested. “No fun above Oxford, I’ve heard”, put in Martin; “open your locks yourself, and all that sort of thing.” “No towns, no boats, no nothing”, added Budd. “All the more fun”, said Figgis. “Let’s do something that all the world doesn’t do. I once went up to Eynsham, and it was very decent. I should rather like to see the end of the whole business.” “Well, let’s go.” In a few minutes it was settled, and the practical part of the arrangements began to be discussed. “First and foremost”, said Charlton, “how about provisions?” “Yes; never mind the boat, that’s a secondary matter”, remarked Budd. “We must carry provisions to last us for several days”, said Figgis; “I believe there are very few villages on the banks. Take lots of tinned things; we can lay in a store at Oxford.” “And the staff of life?” asked Martin. “Trust to fortune; we are sure to find houses, and the people will surely spare a crust to wandering, starved travellers!” “About sleeping?” “I vote for camping in the boat”, said Budd. “Inns don’t seem to abound, and it would be jolly awkward to find ourselves without shelter after a hard day.” “We might camp when fine, and manage to get a bed indoors when wet”, suggested Charlton, practically. The amendment was carried. Duties were assigned to each one as regards provisioning, etc., of the Swan, and the crew separated to meet at Oxford on the following Monday at midday to commence the voyage. Boy’s Own Paper April 21st, 1883 & 4 next issues THE THAMES: FROM OXFORD TO ITS SOURCE BY PAUL BLAKE CHAPTER 2 “Here we are again!” was Budd’s greeting as the crew met at Salter’s, at Folly Bridge. The Swan lay ready in the water, resplendent in a new coat of varnish. On the other hand, they had determined to take old sculls, as they knew they should have some rough work. In addition to the usual complement of fittings, they had an extra long boathook and a very long and strong towing-rope. There was no knowing what they might encounter, and there would be no boathouse handy for repairs in case of damage. “She rides very low”, remarked Martin as he put the last bag in. “These tinned things weigh a tremendous lot.” “Never mind, they will be lighter in a day or two, by the time we reach shallow water.” said Charlton. “Are you sure you’ve forgotten nothing?” asked Figgis before stepping in; “we shan’t have many chances of replenishing our stock.” Everything was there, from the salt to the extra boathook. There was nothing to delay them, so they pushed off and the voyage was fairly begun. Years ago Folly Bridge was surmounted by a tower known as Friar Bacon’s Tower. Tradition said that if any one passed under it who was more learned than the friar, the tower would fall on his head. This was the reason of the advice formerly given to the undergraduates not to go too near the Friar’s Tower. “Lucky for me”, remarked Budd, complacently, “that it isn’t standing now. “Don’t talk so much”, said the captain; “wait till we’re a little farther out. Oxford, however, lasts some time; the new part of the city lies beyond Osney and extends in a scattered way up to Medley. Osney Lock is an ordinary one, and is practically in the city; around it is generally gathered a large collection of barges. “Why, there’s actually a lock-keeper!” exclaimed Budd; “we’re not outside civilisation yet.” “Nor now”, added Charlton, some time after, as they passed the two railway stations. “This is scarcely the first time that a human footstep has trodden these parts.” Tumbling Bay was soon passed: they did not stop for a bathe in the inviting waters. Just round Oxford there is a seemingly endless number of streams, but there is no difficulty in finding which one to follow. Just by Tumbling Bay is the lock leading to the Oxford Canal. It is very plain sailing up to Medley Weir, from which a capital view of Oxford is obtained. Medley is known as the Richmond of Oxford. From Medley there is a fairly straight piece of water to the next lock, Godstow. On the right lies extended the lengthy Port Meadow, on which in winter there is glorious skating when Jack Frost is kind enough to be severe. The river invariably floods the meadow in the winter, sometimes rather too thoroughly, as was the case last year. However, at present the water was shallow enough; there was no fear of its overflowing its banks just then, in fact a considerable mud-bank showed its existence pretty plainly. “Don’t keep in so near shore”, cried Figgis, “or we shall get aground.” “The boat draws such a lot of water”, said Martin who was steering. “Better have tea soon and lighten her”, suggested Budd. If it’s going to be like this all the way it will be easier to get out and walk.” “The stream is slow enough, fortunately”, said Figgis. “Yes, and wide enough”, added Martin. The river, however, soon became deeper, but again grew shallow about a quarter of a mile below Godstow Lock. It is very advisable to fight shy of the ground in a voyage above Oxford – the geological formation changes from the London clay which forms the bed of most of the lower part of the river, and there is danger of finding your keel grinding a hard rock instead of soft mud or comparatively harmless gravel. Boy’s Own Paper April 21st, 1883 & 4 next issues THE THAMES: FROM OXFORD TO ITS SOURCE BY PAUL BLAKE CHAPTER 3 Godstow is one of the historic sites of the Upper Thames. The ruins stand on the island formed by the branch of the river running through Wytham, and are worth a visit. It was here that the celebrated Fair Rosamund lived, and here that (according to tradition) she fell a victim to the Queen’s jealousy. King Henry II seems to have done his best to protect her from injury. He built her a house with a hundred and fifty doors, so curiously arranged that no one who was not in the secret could enter. But by accident the clew of thread which guided the authorised visitor was dropped, and by its means Eleanor found the way to her rival’s bower. Whether she poisoned her, or whether Rosamund lived to end her days in Godstow Nunnery is uncertain. According to Stow, she was buried at Godstow, and these lines were engraved on her tomb:- Hic jacet in tumba Rosa mundi, nor Rosamunda! Non redolet, sed olet, quae redolere solet Not much remains of the nunnery, which is not surprising in view of the fact that the neighbouring seat of the Earl of Abingdon is said to be partly built from its stones. Godstow Lock stands in the cut, and, according to Taunt, there is no lock-keeper. The crew however found a man there who was fulfilling the usual duties of a lock-keeper, and they felt aggrieved. “How long is this to go on?” asked Budd; “we might as well be at Marlow. There’s very little of the country in its native savagery so far.” “I don’t object to a lock-keeper in the wildest of country”, said Figgis; “it’s a nuisance to have to get out of your boat.