We rose to another fine morning after an early rain heavy shower at our chosen stopover, the Bear Hotel in Wantage. Breakfast was served on the first floor and was much more typical of a larger style hotel. We were asked for our order as we sat down and before we had looked at the menu, waitress hovered over us whilst we made up our minds. It was however freshly cooked (yes a fry-up again ) but no fresh fruit to borrow from the breakfast table that we have tended to rely on.
Down the lift to save on energy and next door to Gregs to stock up on food to keep us going throughout today's long day, mainly consisting of filled rolls, granary bars and fruit juices. With our rucksacks by our sides and taking advantage of a brief sit outside to wait for Chris our taxi driver, who had already kindly called me to say he was running 10 minutes late due to police activity, whatever that was! Wantage was buzzing with people going to work or going to schools and colleges. Buses came and filled up in quick succession destined for Oxford, Harwell, Didcot etc. This was perhaps the last opportunity to opt-out of the long day or even the rest of the days, but it never entered our heads, besides there would be no room on the bus for our rucksacks as they were jammed packed full of proper paying passengers at this time of the morning!
Just a 10 minutes taxi-ride round the one-way system and back up the hill saw us back on the Ridgeway. In this short time, Chris, who you remembered from yesterday, he who had allegedly walked the Ridgeway, told us yes it was a long day but it's "all down-hill' to the Thames. Seemed pretty logical to us but it proved later in the day to be very wrong! He dropped us right back on the trail and we starting off on one of our two 'big days' of almost 15 miles. 
We both felt really good today as we hauled our 10kgs back on again and set off easterly again. The threats that our body aching or even falling apart on the notorious 'third day' hadn't materialised yesterday and all seemed fine this morning also. All the rubbing in, on and around creams were still thankfully secure in the so-far unused medication bag, just an anti-inflammatory pain killer so far on day-one for the squiffy back that quickly went away. While mentioning the subject of essential emergency medical bags, we have used ours on quite a few occasions, essentially where people seem to fall over in front of us. It happened on the Malvern Hills with a nasty sprained ankle and cut knee. We recently stumbled over a distraught and gashed leg on the Jurassic cliff path and treated various other minor walker or cyclist ailments. It's happened so much we have recently had to get some more fresh plasters and ointments to give us plenty of choices at the next stumble, fall, sting or bliste
The Beeb app said only a small threat of a shower today so I kept waterproofs off and probably deeper down in our bags than they should have been. We now seemed to be heading directly towards the Didcot chimneys with the adjacent Wittenham Clumps slowly coming more into view as they were becoming step-by-step, closer to us. It was pretty quiet on the track today with just the very occasional horse riders, bikers and dog walkers.
We took photos at the cloudy sky above a monument to Lord Wantage and had a little sit down on the steps before rising again to see the marvellous views now on both sides of the track. Lord Wantage or Robert Loyd-Lindsay was a British soldier, politician and benefactor to Wantage, which reminds me now to mention this morning's study of the statue of King Alfred in Wantage market square, that Lord Wantage was responsible for the donation to erect. Apparently, King Alfred was born in Wantage.......really? The threatening looking clouds gathering right above the monument, prompted us to get moving and stop posing as we still had miles to go! The proximity of Lambourn was now very evident with more and more gallops on both sides of the track, although I feel we were a little late in the day to see the horses and jockeys out on the rides, missing them by a good few hours. 
With broad paths and far reaching views, we stopped for a mid morning drink and snack at a convenient log, placed on the side of one of the many criss-crossing of paths and byways. This one, like most, is accessible for all vehicles albeit limited to just the summer months we we read, to save churning up the byways and it seemed to work pretty well. Despite not being in the forecast, rain started to fall and we headed for the shelter of a spinney while we located waterproofs and started to put them on where we were suddenly confronted face to face by two large wet black dogs that had sniffed out our scent. Luckily the owner was close by and said that he had wondered what they had found to attract their interest! Whilst talking about waterproofs, a small rant comes to mind. I have lightweight pack-o-mack type of top and bottoms. I have average size 10 boots and have yet to find a pair of leggings that do not involve taking off and putting my boots back on.The varieties, I have had over the many years, have had a succession of buttons, poppers, zips and velcro at the leg-ends, none of them open out big enough to take my boots! I just have to curse, hop around and get wet while Lesley, with lady-size six boots, just slips hers on and is back to the track, still dry. Anyway back to the log to continue our brunch when a passing cyclist cheerfully told us "it would stop raining soon" and it did. The sun came out and there it stayed for the rest of the day, even having to cream up with lotion at one point. So it's back off with my boots, off with the togs...……..and you know the rest of my leggings rant!
Passing through the rolling Berkshire downs we were heading closer to the A34, the busy trunk road that should surely now be a motorway, taking holidaymakers to and from the New Forest and convoys of freshly Midlands-assembled Range Rovers and Oxford made Minis to Southampton docks and their foreign equivalent back again just to balance the books. Thankfully the road builders had engineered an underpass as we would surely loose a few Ridgeway walkers in trying to find a gap and dodge the constant stream of very high-speed traffic. The A34 leaves a dull hum of noise for about half an hour with the prevailing wind blowing from the south west behind us. This is an opportune time to bring up the subject of the prevailing wind direction!
This wind is pretty reliably always from this direction and is one of the main reasons why we chose the west to east track. Our island's weather predominately comes scurrying across the Atlantic, blowing up from Cornwall with anything it has with it. This week so far we had encountered pretty strong winds just after Ogbourne St George that made us wobble around so much it made us giggle and proceeded to do one of our quickest miles with each assisting gust from behind. We also had strong winds and passing hailstones at Uffingham Castle and just general gusts this morning to contend with. The look on the faces of fellow path sharers going west, grimacing against the elements while we just have to squint in the day-long sunshine, more than justifies this decision we made. However with the vagaries of our wonderfully changeable climate, we could be completely wrong so do your own research and check the weather app and take pot-luck!
Rounding a bend we now saw our first view of the distant but recognisable communication tower at Stokenchurch, Whiteleaf Hill near Princes Risborough and what looked like the lumpy hills around Ivinghoe Beacon in the distant horizon on what was, a very clear day. These views towards our home lifted our spirits on towards our lunch stop where we consumed most of our Greg's rolls and drinks. We relaxed beside the path propped up against our chunky rucksacks and sitting on our folding foam seats that have accompanied every walk since we were gifted them from a walking company called 'Picos Verde' who several years ago, guided us walking in the Picos de Europa in Northern Spain. Sadly the seats have outlasted the splendid company of British ex-teacher, husband and wife team, the business really suffered during the 2008 downturn & currency crisis. I do hope they have started up walking again or will in the future.
Onward and upward (its definitely not all down hill) to ever changing scenery where we continue to follow the frequent way-marked posts, thankfully placed strategically as there are a seemingly never ending cris-cross of permissible tracks that could take you well off course if you cared to take a wrong turning. I am sure someone has counted the amount of miles these run throughout the Oxfordshire, Berkshire and Wiltshire Downs, it certainly gives an insight to what our roads used to look like and its fascinating how some eventually became metalled, tarmac and full of cars! For the record, I am a bit of a nerd for disused railways lines, where we stumble across them. It's not to the extent of wanting to 'hug' them all, but just for the historical interest. As I grew up and as a boy it was still in the steam train era, so perhaps its just for the nostalgia I want to know where they came from and where they went before Dr Beeching's cull in the mid-60's ! Today I found my disused railway, photographed it and pondered as usual. (link is below to its history I read about later that day)
We ran into a pretty remarkable guy called Bob, a lone walker of about our age, going in the other direction and we stopped for a fairly long chat. It transpired he was walking from Peterborough to Devon via the Ridgeway, not booking anything ahead and wild camping if he found nothing. He stayed the previous night at our end of today's destination, The John Barleycorn pub in Goring, sleeping, he told us, in the Chocolate room. We recommended he try the Bear pub at Wantage as it was not full by any means, although he still had a fair distance to go and we guessed he must have started late to only get as far as he had! Bob said he was in no hurry to get anywhere as he had started weeks ago and judging by a lack of 'tortoise shell' on his back, he was traveling pretty light. Bob said it was nice to chat as most people simply don't have the time and just keep their heads down, must be all Ramblers he said!** Whilst chatting we were buzzed by a strange looking, low-flying, cross between a microlight and a helicopter, with two people on-board. I waved to be polite and we saw them again a couple of times over the next hour, the view from up there must be fantastic. Slight fatigue had set in, which was telling us we were ready for another stop and we calculated, just 4 miles to go! Laying down by a gate with superb views back along the direction we had been walking for the last couple of hours, we took fluid on board and the rest of our snacks, basking in the warm afternoon sun with a welcome rest from our tortoises that now doubled as convenient pillows again. A mean looking Alsatian with a toy hoop in its jaw appeared from nowhere, interrupting our peaceful doze. The owner arrived thankfully just after to tell me "just throw it for him" and he will be fine! I did this willingly, and he was fine, so alarm over. I was left with a slobbery wet, hoop throwing hand and pondering what would have been the outcome if I didn't care to throw it for him!
Winding up hill for about a mile was pretty hard late in the day (thanks Chris the taxi-driver...an up hill) but it was rewarded at last by a welcome gradual downhill gradient where the path runs between the beautiful Streatley Warren escarpment towards where the past four days of the 'downs section' of the Ridgeway ends, right next to Warren Farm. The obligatory photos of another 'you are here' board and the Ridgeway signpost that says we are about a mile short of half way, but it will be half-way by the time we reach the Thames at Streatly before crossing over the bridge and into Goring-on Thames for our night stay. However, before this, the next quiet lane section seemed long and hard on our feet as well as our spirits. Finding the energy to dodge the few cars on bends that were probably now hell-bent on the school run as they were becoming more frequent the closer we got to
civilisation. It was at this point that my mobile rang, a rare occurrence. I answered it as it was an old work colleague, phoning to say she had just been made redundant after 12 years at the company that I worked with her before retirement. I imagine, quite a shock for her and also for me, as she always seemed a pretty permanent feature, but it begs the question, who is secure now-days! Also, she was going to be asked if she could be our pick up at the very end, but luckily, Lesley's son was about to volunteer as our taxi, although he didn't know yet
Entering Streatley the roads were busy and we were tired, making crossing the roads a little bit more risky as you get more blasé and reluctant to stop at roads obviously from fatigue. We managed however, unscathed and entered onto the long and narrow Goring Bridge where after a short walk down into the village we found our lovely old and very traditional pub for drink, food & a night stop. Entering the front door of the John Barleycorn at 4:15pm we were greeted with a thronging crowd of revelers in the 'public bar' side. We received a nice warm welcome from the landlord who took us round to the locked 'saloon bar' to check-in. However much we fancied a pint, we just wanted to down-packs, shower and change. Faced with narrow stairs up to our Africa room ( no room number), next to the Chocolate room, the landlord, being a real gentleman, took Lesley's 'tortoise' up for her as I forced mine the last few stairs, before we collapsed on our very comfortable bed. The room was small with a view over the pub garden. The shower was small, definitely not a walk-in, but all perfectly functional. Looking around the room, the decor was of 'Africa' with several masks that I could try-on later. Further trinkets and pictures of African sunsets, covering the walls. I wonder what was going on in the Chocolate room? Perhaps we should have asked Bob!
A short chill-out, shower and a new set of crumpled but clean clothes and we were soon downstairs for our pint before tackling the evening meal. Lesley had pre-booked dinner for 7:30pm just in case the pub was busy. This was one of only two pubs on our itinerary that I could honestly say that this foresight was a really smart move. Dinner was excellent, served by Mrs Landlord, offering a slightly abrupt and to-the-point service. I was quick to lay blame on the fact she was foreign but as the night went on we soon realised she was really very dry and quite pleasant, just like the landlord! Mr & Mrs landlord were keen to chat and when we discussed our home whereabouts, they seemed pleased we were from Wendover, as the landlord used to run the Shoulder of Mutton pub, in our High Street. We soon became tired, so off to bed at around 10pm, we didn't hear a peep from the voices in the bar below, who were all still there supping more pints when we said our good-nights to everyone!