The Ridgeway famously changes gear as you cross the Thames, and for us it meant a move from an area we had walked two or three times to one with which we were very familiar.  As well as Goring, we’ve done lots of day walks in the Chilterns, including some training walks mostly on the Ridgeway from Princes Risborough to Goring, and also the climb up Ivinghoe Beacon.

Walking the whole of the Way over the last three days was delightful much of the time.  The weather was very good apart from 30 minutes of rain one afternoon.  The bluebells were at their best, complimented by the bright green of freshly emerging beech leaves, all in the dappled sunlight of the woods.  Many of the paths through the woods were just right under foot: soft enough not to jar, but not muddy.  By contrast, the lack of rain meant that paths in the open were baked as hard as concrete.

There are some ancient earthworks, but not the standout monuments of the western half.  One exception – though we need to go back to explore it properly – is the church at North Stoke, which has 14^th century wall paintings as well as a number of medieval features in what is the only church where the path goes through the grounds.  A big shout-out to them and the church at Nuffield, also in Oxfordshire, for providing some open hospitality: not only could you shelter there, but North Stoke offered bottled water, and Nuffield tea and coffee, cake and biscuits, and a toilet.  Yes, we did make a donation in gratitude.  Otherwise, you have to fend for yourself on the Ridgeway.

After several long days, carrying all our stuff for 6 days (no, not camping), we were tired on the last day, but the site of Ivinghoe Beacon put a spring in the step.  We sat down on the step of the monument and looked east.  Although our walk was done, the ridge, and the ancient ridgeway, heads on to the North Sea.  For our ancestors, Ivinghoe Beacon might well only have been a brief stopover in the middle of a different trip for trade, for battle, or for a new life.

In 1954, Tony and Eleanor Simpson and their young daughter Judith took a holiday in Goring on Thames.  They liked the place, and wanting to move out of the London area to somewhere more rural, they decided to buy a house there.

I have visited Goring many times since Judith and I got together in 1984, and each time I’m struck that my in-laws chose well.

Goring is about halfway along the Ridgeway, and marks a clear break between the western half on the Berkshire Downs, and the eastern half across the Chilterns.  The Goring Gap is the generic term for this divide, where the Thames makes its way between the two sets of hills, on its way south from Oxford.  The Ridgeway goes through Streatley on the old Berkshire side of the river, comes over the bridge, into the village centre at Goring, and then along the river for a few miles before climbing into the Chilterns.

Goring is a fine place.  It’s a big village, with village identity, but plenty going on: 3 pubs, 2 cafes, a range of shops, and quite a lot going on in terms of cultural life.  There’s the river and the nearby hills to enjoy.  The train connects easily to Oxford or London.  The traffic ought to be awful in a place with narrow streets, but somehow isn’t.

We’re benefiting from the facilities staying here on the walk: buying a postcard at the stationers, overnight stay at the John Barleycorn but dinner at the Catherine Wheel because the other pub kitchen is closed, and shopping for lunch at the deli tomorrow morning.  Goring will welcome lots of Ridgeway walkers.  For us, it’s particularly special to do this in a place that Judith called home for so long and where I feel at home now. 

Tony and Eleanor lived here for 50 years, becoming pillars of the local History Society and other community activities.  They died within a few months of each other 15 years ago.  I’ve got more reason than anyone to be grateful to them – including the place they chose to settle.

The high spots, literally and metaphorically, of our first couple of days on the Ridgeway have been the ancient sites: Barbery Castle yesterday, and then today, in quick succession, Waylands Smithy and Uffington Castle.  

Waylands Smithy is the oldest, a Neolithic long barrow started around 3590 BC – modern techniques can apparently date burials that happened there to intervals of a few decades.  The remains on view today date from a slightly later structure.  Uffington Castle, only a few hundred yards further on, was probably built in the 7th or 8th century BC.  Barbury Castle, nearer the start of the Ridgeway, was first occupied about 2500 BC, but the Iron Age hillfort also dates from about 700 BC.  Barbury may have had the longest lifespan, occupied until Roman times, and possibly as late as the 6th century when a nearby battle took it into the kingdom of Wessex.  

All three are impressive sites – here is a picture of Barbury, looking forbidding under grey skies.  

The two castles have commanding positions: Uffington in particular has extensive views through 360 degrees, which is appealing for today’s visitors, and must have presented a formidable challenge to attackers.  The earth ramparts are well preserved, so you can see how the defensive system worked if anyone did get up the hill and attack from close range.  

But it’s Waylands that really piques the imagination.  In spite of the research, and the legends about Wayland shoeing your horse if you left cash outside, we still have a lot to learn about why our ancient ancestors buried their dead there, how far afield they came, and what rituals would have accompanied this.  Did they come up one of today’s tracks from the valley, and transport the body along the Ridgeway?  What sort of ceremonies took place?

We don’t know and may never know with any confidence.  That can be frustrating to someone like me, who studied 17th and 18th century before Anglo-Saxon history, let along pre-history, and is used to documents and records to anchor interpretation.  But it does free us up to let our imagination roam in places like Waylands Smithy, and to conjure up our own interpretation of how our ancestors used this atmospheric spot.