Source to Sea Reflections

This was a really special walk, my favourite of the four so far, for a few reasons.

Firstly, we were a small group - just four participants, plus me and Jonathan. What made it especially lovely was that everyone who came had been on one of the previous walks, which gave it an extra feeling of connection. Those initial conversations about names and jobs were replaced with a warmth of catching up, slipping into deeper connections and familiarity right from the start.

Naturally, I did the same, and I totally forgot about the pre-walk orientation and setting the scene, I was feeling so at ease. This left me wondering, on a personal note, whether my love for structure and planning around events like these is more about giving me a sense of stability than it is for anyone else. When I’m more relaxed, it seems I don’t feel the need to put up as much scaffolding to hold the event together - just a reflection.

The other reason this walk stood out was the weather. I know we Brits like to talk about it, but that’s because it really does impact our outlook. And on this day, at the start of April, we were blessed with unseasonably warm weather - about 23 degrees, clear blue skies, and no shade for the full 10-mile stretch.

It gave the whole walk a completely different feel. The green grass of the fields met the brilliant blue sky, and with the flat terrain and open landscape, we had a vast horizon stretching around us. That sense of space was more than physical; it felt like mental space, too, as we walked, talked, and connected with each other and the world around us.

The most striking thing was the summer-like weather set against a springtime landscape. The bare outlines of trees without their leaves, the blossoms in the hedgerows bathed in warm sunshine, created a beautiful juxtaposition. We’re so used to seeing blue skies paired with full canopies, or blossoms in a crisper climate. This contrast was beautiful.

Butterflies fluttered alongside us as we walked - light green, white, multicoloured (I’m no expert, but my best guesses are Small White, Brimstone, Small Tortoiseshell, or Painted Lady). We also spotted a lone heron at the weir, calmly keeping an eye on the water until we approached and it took flight in the opposite direction.

For the first time, the river was with us for the entire walk. Previously, the path had veered off, but this time we followed the Thames all the way, gradually widening, a beautiful opaque greeny-blue in colour, almost tropical at times. Where it cascaded down the weir, it ran beautifully clear. We passed stunningly maintained locks that allowed for changes in the river’s level. And we weren’t the only ones enjoying the water - we saw a couple on paddleboards with their dog, a man in a kayak near our lunch stop, and a few boats cruising past. A group of teenagers considered jumping in from the bank but ultimately thought better of it.

What also struck us was the stillness. There was barely any breeze, and the water seemed to be having a relaxing day too, basking in the sunshine, with only the gentlest ripples hinting at a current. Very different from other stretches we’ve encountered. But definitely wider, flowing smoothly under many bridges along the way.

The coaching element of the walk - one of the core reasons for this challenge - felt more free-flowing this time, much like the river. Because we all knew each other, we fell into natural conversations, and coaching emerged organically. Everyone who joined us was a coach, so intentional coaching conversations naturally surfaced. We paused for lunch around six miles in, beside the river, where Jonathan left us - the full 10 miles was a bit too much during his recovery from spinal surgery last year.

There were some beautiful metaphors along the way, too. One participant and I reflected on the disruption of the horizon, dotted with pylons - an unwelcome reminder of civilisation for her, as she’d been looking forward to switching off from a busy schedule. I commented on how the rigid structures of the pylons jarred against the softness of nature - a physical, bodily reaction. Interestingly, while she had noticed the pylons, my gaze had been fixed on the other side of the river, the beauty of the water and greenery, and I hadn’t even seen the pylons. A reminder that our perspectives shift depending on where we choose to look.

The rest of us continued, and aside from one misdirection - we had to backtrack after crossing the river at the wrong point, the walk was fairly smooth. Energy dipped around the 9-mile mark, and with the detour, the walk ended up being around 11.5 miles in total. In the heat, with no breeze or shade, we were very glad to see the pub - The Trout at Tadpole Bridge, where our cars were parked. A refreshing glass of lemonade and a toilet stop were very welcome, as was the moment we got to take off our shoes back at the car!

This was a stunning walk, and I haven’t even mentioned the beautiful riverside properties we passed along the way.

It’s a walk I’ll hold in my memory as the “one to beat.” Although the 14-hour day (leaving home at 6:30am and returning at 8:30pm) wasn’t my favourite part, the only thing that could have improved it would’ve been getting home a little earlier after such a long, hot walk.

And to top it all off, it was my first no-wellies day! Shorts, t-shirt, and plenty of sun cream. I’m hoping this will be the dress code for the rest of the walks until October (though with the British climate being as unpredictable as ever, I won’t hold my breath!)

Now to rest before next month. May and June bring five walks across five weeks! If you want to join us, head to the Source to Sea page for the schedule and how to book.