Vole Explosion

GORING TO WATLINGTON

4^th July 2023

   Hiking the Ridgeway is a game of two halves. The Chiltern Hills in the eastern half are very different from the open grasslands west of the Goring Gap – more wooded and with more facilities, but with fewer ancient monuments and less of a ‘wild’ feel.

   The weather forecast for today looked terrible, so I tried to set off early and walk quickly. I was due to stay on a campsite and wanted to get my tent pitched before the rain started in the afternoon. All of today’s walk would be in Oxfordshire.

   From Goring, the path headed north along a bank of the Thames and through the pretty villages of South Stoke and North Stoke. After about 5 miles (8 km), it turned east and continued in a straight line along Grim’s Ditch. This is a long, wooded ditch, thought to have been dug during the Iron Age as a boundary marker, but nobody is entirely sure when it was dug or for what purpose. Towards the end there was a handy water tap provided by a private residence. The weather along here became warm, sunny and humid, and I almost forgot about the coming rain.

   At the eastern end of the ditch the trail went straight through the middle of a golf course, with marker posts to keep hikers on the correct route. Emerging from the golf course I found an old pub that was closed down and re-opened as a crafting centre and café called The Maker Place. With perfect timing, I stopped in for a coffee just as a heavy rain shower passed over.

   A little further on I stopped and ate my lunch in the churchyard of the 11^th century St Botolph’s Church. Another brief rain shower blew through, but I was able to shelter inside the church.

   The trail then climbed steeply up through some woods – the only slightly strenuous part of the day’s walk – and then it was easy going all the way to my overnight stop.

   I made it to the campsite before the rain started, but only just. A note at reception said the manager was out walking her dogs, so I waited. The site also rented out large glamping tents and, not wanting to pitch my tent in the rain and pack it up wet tomorrow, I had planned to see if I could get a good deal on one of these.

   When the rain started, shortly after my arrival, it really started! It became very heavy very quickly and continued into the night. I sheltered as best I could until the manager arrived 45 minutes later. The glamping tents started at £70 per night but she let me have one for £40 using my own sleeping bag and towel. I thought this was very reasonable for a dry night in a double bed, and with plenty of room to spread my stuff out to dry. The tent also had a little stove, but it was a warm evening and I didn’t need to use it. Some seating and a fire pit just outside would also remain unused in the wet weather.

   After a hot shower, I got into some dry clothes and lay on my bed reading, or simply enjoying the sound of rain on canvas while being warm and dry. I’ve often sneered at the idea of glamping, but it was starting to grow on me. I felt like a filthy sell-out. In just three days I had gone from wild camping to glamping, and all it took was a little rain. I ought to be ashamed of myself.

   Much as I could have spent the entire evening laying on my bed in my giant bell tent, like an officer in the Napoleonic Wars, at some point I had to go out to eat. I put some damp clothes back on and went back out in the rain for a ten minute walk into the nearby town of Watlington – officially the smallest town in England and looking more like a village. First I had a beer in a local pub then enjoyed a lamb bhuna in a nearby curry house. By the time I walked back to the campsite the rain had eased slightly into a light drizzle.

White Mark Farm Glamping, Watlington (£40)

14.5 miles     23.0 km     6.5 hours