This walk was a different experience again.
Due to work commitments, Jonathan couldn’t make this walk, which meant I was flying solo. That didn’t concern me from a logistics point of view, I run walks by myself all the time. But my imposter syndrome did make an appearance, and I found myself quietly questioning whether anyone would still want to come along without Jonathan there.

We originally had around five people booked, but all except one had to cancel due to work commitments. It’s hard to carve out a full day when you’re self-employed and other opportunities come up.

For a while, I thought it might be a solo walk, which would have been absolutely fine. But the lovely Ruth and her gorgeous four-legged companion Bella, both of whom joined us for Walk 3 were still committed to coming along, saving me from my own company and navigation skills.

It was another gloriously sunny day. The heat wasn’t quite as intense as the previous walk thanks to a welcome breeze and occasional cloud cover - ideal walking conditions in my book. Ann, who has joined us for each leg so far, couldn’t make this one but walked the route the weekend before and sent me some really helpful notes. As always - thank you, Ann!

Ahead of the journey, I downloaded From Source to Sea by Tom Chesshyre on Audible and listened to the chapters that brought him to the same stretch of the Thames I’d be walking. It was a lovely companion on the drive down to Oxford.

Ruth and I met at The Rose Revived pub (our endpoint) and I drove us to the Trout Inn at Tadpole Bridge (where our last walk finished), ready to begin our six-mile route.

With just the two of us, the format naturally shifted. Normally, there's a larger group, with shared check-ins, group coaching, and multiple conversations flowing between people. But with just Ruth and me, the pace and energy felt more spacious and intuitive. After a brief check-in - What was Ruth hoping for from the day? A leisurely chat as we walked? Coaching conversations? Coaching cards? A mindful solo stretch? We agreed to incorporate each of those elements as and when it felt right.

We crossed the small bridge and picked up the Thames Path where we left it last month, commenting on the blue lagoon colour of the water. The sun glinted off its surface, and a light breeze rippled the water, almost making it look like it was flowing backwards.

The river stayed with us for the whole walk, a constant presence on one side, with open fields on the other.

More than once, we commented on how beautiful the route was - hedgerows in bloom, trees creating natural archways over the path, leaning gently towards the river like guardians guiding our way.

Much of the first half of the walk was single-file, thanks to the overgrown undergrowth along the path. The ground was dry and cracked in places, evidence of the driest May on record since the early 1950s. We talked about the tension of enjoying the break from the usual wet weather while recognising what this unseasonal warmth might be telling us about the state of the planet. That push-pull between appreciation and concern sat with us for much of the day.

After about 30 minutes of walking and catching up, we paused beneath the shade of some willow trees for a coaching check-in, reconnecting with ourselves and naming what we hoped to take from the walk.

We each pulled a coaching card. Ruth drew the Willow Tree - a prompt for reflecting on flexibility without breaking (fitting, considering where we were standing!). I pulled the Frog card, which invited thoughts on transformation and change. We didn’t see a single frog on the walk, but the abundance of lily pads along the river made the card feel apt, like the river was supporting the conversation.

We found a lovely riverside spot for lunch, and eventually turned our attention to the huge pylons dominating the far side of the river. Harsh and angular, they stood in stark contrast to the natural beauty around us, acting as a reminder of human presence even in such peaceful, seemingly untouched surroundings.

After lunch, we agreed to walk in silence for just over a kilometre. Before setting off, we each named what we wanted to reflect on during this solo stretch. The mindful pace brought a new rhythm to the walk, one that felt spacious and grounding and something I would like to incorporate into future walks.

Not long after, we arrived at the Maybush pub, a picturesque spot right on the river. We crossed the bridge there and returned to The Rose Revived, where we sat in the beer garden beneath a huge willow tree - a near-constant on today’s walk, second only to the river itself - with a glass of lemonade, reflecting on what we’d noticed throughout the day.

One thing we both remarked on was the richness of wildlife. Almost everything we saw was part of a pair or a group - ducks with ducklings, birds in flight together, butterflies dancing in twos, swans, dragonflies, mayflies, and even a very vocal field of geese, some on the river with their families. We also heard a cuckoo at several points, as if it were joining in our conversation.

Ruth shared a beautiful reflection on some of the trees we passed - old, weathered stumps about six feet tall, clearly cut down many years ago, now sprouting fresh green growth and full canopies once more. A reminder that age doesn’t mean the end of life or possibility. These trees were also hosting other species, offering homes, shade, and nourishment, just as the river does.

I found myself wondering how different this walk would be in winter. The vibrancy of the blossoms, the wildlife, the bright green hedgerows, the sunlight dancing on the water - all of this felt specific to these spring-turned-summer months. What kind of experience would we have had if this stretch had fallen later in the year?

I also reflected on how different the walk felt with just two of us. It seemed a shame that others had to miss such a stunning route, but I felt grateful to have shared it with Ruth. As this journey was one Jonathan and I set out to do together, I noticed my growing affection for the River Thames itself. I had no previous connection to it - I’m not from London or the surrounding area, and had only really experienced it through visits to the South Bank, but it’s becoming a familiar and grounding presence. As Jonathan couldn’t make this walk, it has so far just been me and the river who have been at every stage so far.

Now five walks in, the Thames is starting to feel like an old friend - each stretch with a different mood, a different message. Though it offered fewer metaphors this time (the wildlife claimed centre stage), its steady presence quietly guided us to our endpoint.

By the end of the day, I felt reassured. Even with fewer people, meaningful connection can thrive. I was reminded that I can hold the space, just as I am - and that the magic of these walks doesn’t rely on numbers, but on intention, presence, and the willingness to be open.

We have a cluster of walks coming up in quick succession now, starting again in just a week’s time. I wonder how that shift in rhythm will shape the experience?

Click here to see the upcoming Source to Sea Schedule and book to join us on a walk soon.