When there was Weather

Abingdon to Goring, 18 miles, 6 locks

Another beautiful day with the sun shining and clear blue skies. I'm still in BST in my head, so I was awake at 8. I didn't really want to get up though, so I put some bread in to bake and went back to bed for a short doze. After a lovely breakfast of a bacon baguette, I go to check the engine before I set off.

The water levels are pretty much where they were yesterday—just below the level of the filler cap on the header tank—so that's good. I fit the jubilee clip I bought yesterday, over the oil cooler, losing a screwdriver into the bilge in the process. I guess I'll get it back one day. With all my checks done and a flask of tea made, I started the engine and set off.

First was the job of turning around so I was facing downstream. The currents just after Abingdon bridge are, er, interesting, so it took a few goes before I got it right, but after that I was off. I reached the point where I noticed the smoke yesterday but the temperature needle hadn't moved from rest, so that was good. A little while later I passed the entrance to Abingdon Marina and the garden where I'd been moored at the end of yesterday. I looked and waved, hoping someone would see me and was very gratified to see my former host out on the patio, waving a cheery wave back.

Around the corner and along the long straight of Culham Reach, then it's a blind 90° bend into Culham Cut that leads to Culham lock. When I arrive, two canoeists are already there, with one winding the handle to operate the lock (no lock keeper, so no electrification). She got the bottom gates closed, so I took over the job of opening the top paddles to fill the lock. After that the lock keeper appeared, so we returned to our craft. Although I was sure there had been no-one behind me when I came down Culham Reach, to my surprise a hire cruiser was now moored behind me at the lay-by.

We all fitted in the lock easily and I had no problems controlling Oothoon with her ropes. I was last to leave, as I wanted to sort them out before setting off and I kind of bow-hauled her until the stern was at the steps (Thames locks have steps rather than a ladder—so much more civilised). Everyone had disappeared—even the canoeists—so I had the river to myself and it was glorious in the sunshine. The odd cloud had started to appear in the sky, but you only noticed them when the sun disappeared behind one.

About half an hour later, through flat country that is only ruined by the sight of Didcot power station steaming away in the distance, you get to Clifton lock. I'd passed the canoeists on the way and knew they wouldn't be joining us, but another cruiser did, however Clifton lock is a mere 3.5ft (1m) so the lock keeper let me hold the boat on the centre rope and in fact we were down and the gates were open almost immediately. Just after Clifton lock you can double-back on yourself and go along the weir stream, even in a boat like mine. At the end is Long Wittenham and the Plough Inn. I didn't go up to have a look, but I'd love to one day.

After Clifton the Thames makes an extravagant sweep past Clifton Hampden and the large luxurious waterside houses of Burcot. In the distance is the old Roman town of Dorchester and on the other bank you get to see Didcot power station from almost every angle.

After Day's lock there's a sharp 90° bend and then the river meanders back and forth past Shillingford  and towards the lock at Benson. Just before the lock there's a boat hire place that sells Diesel and thinking that it's a while since I've filled up, I stop. Good job I did, as Oothoon takes on 107.7 litres—fortunately at the 'red' diesel price. I had intended to eat at the café there, however I didn't really fancy a 'full' meal and ate aboard instead, so lunch was a baguette with mozzarella, tomato and pesto.

Through Bensons lock and to Wallingford. I had intended that this would be my stopping point today, but the weather is fine and it was only mid-afternoon with over two hours of daylight left, so I press on.

The Thames is failrly straight and uninteresting after Wallingford, which explains why it seems perfect for rowers. I'm going past their clubhouse when the rain starts spitting. It's only light—no more than a shower really—so I don't worry about it, although I notice that the sky is primarily clouds now and the blue is getting few and far between. Past North Stoke and the rain gets much heavier. The rowers don't seem to mind, but Oothoon's doing 8kph and they're going much faster, so maybe it's keeping them cool. By the time we reach the islands just north of Moulsford Railway Bridge, the rain is really quite nasty. The rowers shoot off to the left, whereas it appears that the channel continues straight on (there's no sign). I've had this before with rowers, where they'll go the 'wrong way' round an island because it suits them better, however after a moment I realise that perhaps they were right this time. Stopping is tricky in the strong current and reversing even more so, but eventually I reverse up to the fork in the river, only to have to slam into full forward because the rowers shoot back out of the cut at full speed and I'd have hit them. This completely undoes all my careful manoeuvring and now I'm drifting sideway towards the top of the island. After full reverse and hoping that the bank behind isn't shallow, I manage to get the prow past the start of the island. After putting the cratch through the obligatory tree, I'm once again headed in the right direction.

By now the rain is so bad that I can't use my glasses any more and I shoot under the railway bridge determined to stop at Mouldford, which is the next village. There's nowhere to stop (most of the banks of the Thames being privately owned and liberally littered with "No Mooring" signs) but the rain is easing. Nicholson's has the next mooring place as being below Goring lock, so maybe I can make it there.

Cleve lock, at 2ft3 (0.7m), empties so quickly that I don't even have time to get ropes ready before we're finished. In the lock is me, the cruiser from back at Culham, and two striking breasted-up narrowboats—"Tarred" and "Feathered"—that were moored just below me at Osney lock. They apologise that they're going to be slow, explaining that they've had engine trouble and are moving under 'electric power'. I've no idea what that is, but it sounds impressive. Sure enough they are quite slow, so I overtake them and the lock keeper at Goring decides to lock me and the cruiser separately. The rain is back in full force now, so I ask the lock keeper where I might moor and he points out the moorings a little way below the lock. I head for them—compensating for the strong currents caused by the weir—and manage to get moored. I'm so relived that I've found somewhere, because the rain is torrential and it's about to get dark.

One hot shower later and after having re-lit the fire using the home-chopped kindling from the other day, I start to relax. I realise that there are a couple of things I need to do, for example fill the coal scuttle, so I get these out of the way. I stop the engine—still on 50°—and settle in for the night. I've decided to have Scumbalina Fish Pie Deluxe again, since it feels like a Friday. It's very warming and comforting and I feel much happier for it, however as I make a cuppa afterwards, I notice that it's snowing. Deep joy.