We’d been watching the weather forecast closely ahead of this walk. Storm Amy - the first named storm of the autumn/winter season - was due to hit the UK later that day, and walking in 50mph winds didn’t seem like the wisest idea.

As it turned out, the storm wasn’t due to arrive until later that evening and into Saturday, so we decided to go ahead.

There were four of us on the walk. One person had travelled down with me from Chester, and it was lovely to have a companion on the journey. Iit made the long trip down the M6, M5, M42 and M40 much more enjoyable. Unfortunately, there were no beautiful skies or sunrise to greet us as there often are. It was overcast and wet all the way.

We met in Purley in the drizzle and gathered beneath a huge beech tree for our usual orientation. The check-in prompt for the day was influenced by the forecast:

“Storm Amy is currently brewing out of sight, over the ocean, but we know it’s coming. What’s brewing for you at the moment, maybe out of sight or just starting to stir, that this walk could help you get ready for?”

That invitation gave people permission to share, and it was clear we were each walking with our own personal storms. None that could or should be resolved by one seven-mile walk along the Thames, but naming them aloud seemed to lift some of the heaviness we were carrying as we set off.

The first stretch took us through what should have been a peaceful wooded path, but the calm was interrupted by a busy railway line on one side and a major road on the other, a stark reminder of how urban this part of the river has become.

Another noticeable contrast was the amount of litter. We had two carrier bags between us and filled them three times over, emptying them into bins as we passed. We couldn’t begin to collect all of the rubbish we saw, and most of it appeared in just the first hour. We prioritised plastics and had to remind ourselves that even doing something was better than nothing - we were leaving the place better than we found it. It was staggering how much people had left behind - bottles, wrappers, even a microwave dumped by the path. All things that had clearly been carried in but not carried out.

As the river wound into Caversham, the contrast was immediate. The litter disappeared. The surroundings felt more cared for. The houses across the water were huge, the parks well-maintained, and the path flanked by a beautiful selection of trees. We finally got to put the rubbish bags away for a while.

The river was noticeably wider now - four or five metres broader in parts than it had been at the start of our previous walk in Goring. I was struck by how much nature there still was to take in: more vibrant Virginia creeper catching our eye, some extraordinary fungi growing on old tree trunks, patches of wild garlic, a very vocal Eurasian Jay, both black and grey herons, and the usual mix of geese and swans.  This walk was starting to bring us some of the vibrancy we associate with autumn - the bright reds, oranges, and coppers beginning to emerge on the trees, often just one branch at a time.

As ever, Mother Nature was kind to us. We started in drizzle, but it eased off without us really noticing. We even managed to sit and have lunch in the park in central Reading - the first time we’d eaten lunch in such an urban environment. We were still beside the river, but this time the view was multistorey office buildings rather than trees. Not unpleasant, just different. A red kite circled one of the buildings the whole time we were eating.

After lunch, we fell into natural conversation again, and as the walk moved into more open fields, we spotted three women brave enough to go swimming in the river.

Because there were only four of us, we finished in just over three hours which was ideal timing as I was keen to wrap up before the storm arrived. We gathered for our check-out and reflected that, while none of our personal storms had passed during the walk, the movement, connection, and being out in nature gave us some lightness. There was something powerful in shifting our focus on each other, on the trees, on doing what we could to care for the space around us, and it gave just enough relief to carry us through.

Our next walk isn’t until the 7th of November which is a full five weeks away, which might be the longest break in our schedule so far. I won’t miss the 5am alarms and seven-hour round trips for a while… but I know I’ll miss the river, the regular faces, and the rhythm these walks bring.

If you'd like to join us on our Source to Sea journey, you can find the latest schedule and link to book here.