No two journeys are the same

Day 6 on the Thames. Waking up to the sound of a blaring alarm. Sitting upright. Not sure what the noise was, where it was coming from nor what to do with it. Falling over my daughter who had crept into our bed to shut the noise off.
Locating it on my cell phone. Shutting it off. Sleep lulling me back to bed. But I told myself I had to stay up as this was the price I had to pay for having a lazy afternoon the day before. So reluctantly I forced myself to stay up. Opening the windows to see what the day was like. And I was pleasantly surprised to see a partly cloudy sky. The weather that was threatening to come through seemingly past. The promise of another beautiful day dawning.
I used my alone time to meditate. To go into that place of silence. To give thanks for all that I have and am about to receive. To give thanks for all that I am and all that I have been and all that I am becoming. To savour the moment of silence.
We set off half an  hour earlier than we thought we would. Our daughter was fast asleep so we decided not to disturb her. Our son, on the other hand, jumping up when he heard the engine starting. Not wanting to miss out on his duties. Making my husband proud of his son. The morning perfect by the time we cast off. The clouds giving way to blue skies. The river like a mirror. What a perfect way to start our day and equally for the start of the Olympics.
I had just put the eggs on to boil when we came upon our first lock for the day. Quicker than any of us thought. So I went rushing to the stern forgetting about the eggs on the stove. Then when I remembered I panicked but there was nothing I could do except concentrate on helping us to get through the lock. Praying the eggs did not burn.
As we approached the Mapledurham lock, the self service sign was still on but we saw the lockeeper making his way to the gates. Relief flowed through me. As I remembered Mapledurham to be quite a beast. But we were quickly discovering that approaching the lock from upriver was nowhere near as intimidating as when we were coming upriver. Instead of rising 6 ft 10 in, we dropped that level so the lock was not as strong. Which meant I didn't have to hold on to the lines as tightly, saving my soft hands from developing calluses I thought.
Once we got through the lock, the weir that seemed so imposing on our way up seemed so much tamer as we glided effortlessly out of the lock and out of the reach of the weir's currents. Once again entering an oasis of green on either side of us.
Before I knew it, we were back at Caversham Boat Services topping up our water supplies. The journey down river, now that we have our river legs and consider ourselves true river rats, was going much faster and smoother than we had anticipated. A totally different experience between Friday and Saturday. Reminding me not to hold on to the past. To just stay in the moment because each moment is different from the next. Each experience different from the previous. Each a stepping stone to the present moment. Not a determinant for what is to come. But an indication of where we have been and how we have arrived. I am grateful for my journey on the River Thames for reminding me of this lesson.
Water supply replenished. Duck food for my daughter. Purchasing something from the reception at the Caversham Bost Services to support them so they can continue to provide their invaluable service to boaters. The sun big and bright. Joy coursing through my veins as we cast off again to the next lock.
Surprised yet again by how quickly we reached the Caversham lock. The layby at Caversham was at an angle and had a very narrow entryway so our ability to see what was heading our way was limited. Forcing us to enter cautiously to leave room for error. And were we glad  we did because just as we thought we were in the clear and were making our approach,  we spotted a large Dutch barge coming our way. My husband shouted orders for us to get Sancerre tied up to the layby quickly until we knew for sure there were no more boats coming out. The lock was very busy - 4 boats had already come out of the lock and there were 6 more in it waiting for their turn. So we sat at the layby waiting patiently for our turn. When we got into the lock, we had to do a double take because the same lockeeper we had met at Mapledurham was now at the Caversham lock. Reminding us where we had seen him.
We came slightly further down river and tried to approach the dock for Tesco as we needed a small top up of supplies and got somewhat entangled by a tree that was overhanging more than we thought. The tree seemed like it was trying desperately to steal the bike off the roof in exchange  for us trying to steal its shade. As if equipped with superpowers,  my husband leapt on the roof in one single bound, snatching the bike out of the grasp of the tree just as it was about to toss it overboard. Pulling it safely to the other side of the roof. But not being totally unscathed scratching his elbows and knees in the process. Declaring it only a flesh wound and reversing Sancerre out of the overhanging tree. Just as he did, two boats pulled off the dock with no overhanging trees.  Leaving us more than enough room to dock. Excitement over for the moment.  And back to the mundane task of getting supplies. But learning that when we are patient, life always gives us what we need.
Our journey down river was nowhere near as intimidating as the day before. Nowhere near as frightening as  our journey coming up. Was it because we knew what to anticipate or had we just become a better team because we knew what to expect. Whatever the reason it felt so much smoother and easier even when we encountered circumstances we had not anticipated. Proving that when we surrender, we trust more and let go more which takes the fear and struggle out of the picture replacing them with faith and love. With clarity of thought. Without inteference.
We pulled into Sonning Lock forgetting how beautifully kept this lock was. Remembering when we saw the hollyhocks as tall as us. But the friendly lockeeper we met on the way up was not working much to our disappointment. A volunteer as his replacement. But friendly just the same. There was a small motor boat behind us. A young couple. Appearing to be newly dating. He trying to impress her. Them standing on the dock as the lock emptied oblivious to the amount of water rushing out of the lock. Profiling instead. The lockeeper asking the male if they wanted to get back into the boat or stay on the dock. She looking down and seeing how far she had to jump. Panic coming into her eyes. He talking on his cell phone trying to play it cool answering the lockeeper by saying they will stay on the dock. The lockeeper shrugging his shoulders as if to say it's on you mate. The young woman pleaded with her new beau. He relented and helped her to jump onto the boat from about 5 feet up. Everyone watching them. They both landed safely on the boat. Disaster averted. Then the lock opened and they were through as were we.
Motoring on we came upon the bridge that had caused us some trouble on the way up. It's amazing how the brain retains the fear from before. Imprinting there is danger ahead. The bridge looking just as intimidating as it did on the way up. A sharp angle to the right to get to the middle of the bridge. My husband approaching the bridge with caution and then I heard him swear. Looking up I saw why. My heart in my throat. Coming straight at us was a motoryacht. Forcing us to divert course. Slow down. Let it pass us by. Then regaining control of Sancerre to get her back on course to head straight through the centre arch of the bridge. Relief flooding through us as we did. Like pros.
And then hunger pangs hit. It was about 1.30 so we decided to find a place to moor for lunch. The first mooring site we came across was charging 20 pounds. So we motored right on by.  Deciding it wasn't worth it since we had visited the village on the way up. Instead we decided to forego Sonning and head for Shiplake, a new village, a new place to explore. Time was on our hands anyway. There was no hurry because we were coming down river much faster than we had anticipated. No stress. No worries. The children tired from being up so late the night before. All of us relaxed and just going with where the journey wanted to take us for the day.
All hopes of lunching at the St. George and Dragon were dashed when the newly dating couple decided to moor their 14 foot boat in the middle of the dock leaving no space for anyone else let alone Sancerre's 60 feet. We continued on - passing one beautiful home after the other. The real estate getting decidely more expensive as we neared Henly on Thames. The village looking very different to the one we stopped in days before. The river and banks teeming with boats and people. Much to our dismay, we had cruised right into the middle of a regatta. The waterways changed. New routes mapped out. Some quite confusing with a sign pointing to Regatta and in small print Other Boats. We started down the lane to go through the Regatta and as we got closer we realised we needed to be outside of the sign. We took comfort in knowing we weren't the only ones confused by the signage. As there were others just as confused as we were.
We then had to motor through the town trying to find a safe and convenient place to moor because it was going to be our home for the night. As we were looking, we spotted the friendly dockmaster we had met on the way up and he showed us where  to moor. My husband making a precise and tight turn in the middle of the river so we could take up the mooring. Mission accomplished. We moored. My husband quite proud of his skills.
By the time we moored, the evening had turned from overcast to blue skies. A warm evening light filling the sky. There were rowers on the Thames racing. Lots of boats and people around. A definite festive atmosphere. We walked into town, a lovely walk through the back streets as we had to moor on the opposite side to where we had been before because of the regatta. And we were pleased we did because it gave us the opportunity to see the town from a different vantage point. To walk through residental areas and see the way people live. Making us feel like locals.
We ate at The Argyle, which had been recommended by the dockmaster, for the second time and were not disappointed. Eating far too much food because we had missed lunch. So the half hour walk back was actually a welcome reprieve for me. Looking  at and smelling the beautful roses snaking up the outside of several of the homes enroute. Our children chasing each other down the street. My husband and I walking arm in arm. Appreciating the perfection we were experiencing in that moment. Storing it for when times are tough.  
When we got back to Sancerre, my husband lit the woodstove just for the ambiance and we settled down to watch the Olympics. Another wonderful family day. Another day of seeing life from a different perspective. Missing out on seeing the flasher on the way back. Disappointed that he was not out in full form. Particularly since I had my camera ready to snap a photograph of him to see what he would do. But I guess it wasn't in the cards. Not seeing our home for sale because we came down the river on the other side telling me it was not meant to be. The challenges we faced and the experiences we had going up were not meant to be the same as when we journeyed  back down.
The journey much quicker. Getting all the way to Henley on Thames in one day. Cruising along. Just going for it and seeing where it took us. The view outside our window  is incredible and unbelievable. Like something out of a story book. And then it hit me, it was a storybook. Our own, the very one we are living every single day. Feeling a warmth spread through me. Full of love. I silently said thank you to the Universe. For understanding no two journeys are the same.