|Reeling in a monster from the deep|
All seemed lost as the capricious wind teased it further away from my boathook. Then the fisherman on the boat moored behind us decided to test out his casting skills and after a couple of false starts, had it hooked and reeled to the edge. Brian was very grateful – or would have been but he was already curled up asleep on our bed instead.
That's about as exciting as things get in Goring. It's an odd little spot, undeniably picturesque yet hard to love as it positively reeks of the sort of affluence which ordinary folk can't imagine.
|Glass and steel homes are almost commonplace in Goring|
|The very sorry for itself mansion outside Goring|
|If you can't afford a Huf House, get a glass summerhouse|
|A pretty little classic wooden boat at Goring|
Not our cup of tea, then, though it is a geographically interesting spot. The Thames here passes through the Goring Gap, a glacial valley carved out in the Ice Age that now seperates the Chilterns and the Berkshire Downs. It was the meeting place between the ancient Ridgeway and Icknield tracks and an early crossing point on the river.
|A fleet of Freemans at Sheridan's brought back memories|
Not such fond thoughts, though, at the Wallingford town moorings we'd hoped to stop which were full and we found ourselves hunting for a space to stop as the evening drew in.
On the Thames you can generally find a mooring – if you're willing to pay for it. The Benson lock-keeper said we could stop there – for eight quid and leave when the lock opened for business at 8a.m. No thanks. We pushed our bows into various edges, all of which were too shallow and moved on to Shillingford where the hotel offered plenty of moorings for a 'modest fee', according to the Nicholsons Guide – which turned out to be £15! Finally at 7.30 we found ourselves a nice little quiet spot on a steep bank just upstream.