To endings and beginnings

Day 7 and our final full day on the Thames. Waking up to the sun streaming through our windows and it was only 6 am. Feeling Sancere rocking for the first time on our journey because the River was much busier in Henly on Thames. Boats coming back and forth all night long. And people don't seem to take the no wake zone seriously.

Feeling a darkness trying to envelope me as a profound sadness came over me. Knowing our time of bliss is coming to an end. It was almost time to go back out into the real world away from our Utopia. I meditated to shift the darkness. To allow it to pass through me. To allow myself to feel it. And let it go.

After coming out of my meditation, I had a strong desire to go for a bike ride. To be in nature. To embrace the child in me so that I could bring myself back to the present moment. Tossing all my worries aside. To leave space for the little girl in me to be free. Following my instincts telling me to bike ride.

I rode in the opposite direction to where my inner voice was telling me to go.  Resisting the voice in my head because I wanted to see what was down the path ahead of me. But all I found was a dead end. So I turned back and instead of  following my instincts, I again, followed a  different path to the path my whole being was willing me to take. Only to met up with yet another dead end. Frustrating me because I knew the Universe was showing me my life. Showing me that I know where I am meant to go. I know which path I am meant to take but I am choosing not to go down that route and as a result I am encountering roadblock after roadblock.

Getting the message loud and clear, I decided to follow my inner voice and go down the path I should have gone down in the first place. Only to encounter yet another roadblock. This time I was perplexed.  What was the universe trying to tell me? I rode back to the barge and told my husband that I could not get out of our mooring site on the bike. The only way out was to walk. He then walked with me to the fence and helped me to put the bike over the fence and off I rode. Knowing this time that the Universe was telling me that sometimes it's okay to ask for help. Okay to let people know when I am facing roadblocks so that they can help me. That I am not always capable of doing it on my own.

Once I started to ride, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and abandon as I pedalled like the little girl in me used to when I was young. Riding to places unknown. Along paths unseen. But not afraid to explore. Not afraid to see where the paths took me. And then I was surprised to find I ended up exactly where I wanted to be at the Sunday market in Henly on Thames. Wandering around like a local with my bike and backpack. Feeling proud of myself for going for it. Opening to the locals. Chatting about life with them.

Purchasing food for our breakfast fresh from the market. Stopping to pick up the newspapers. Riding back and getting caught in a pack of riders saying good morning to me like I was one of them. Until they left me in the dust and I was alone again. Getting the bike back through the fence on my own because I knew how. And because I wasn't afraid.

Feeling really good about myself. Ready to take on any challenge after that. The darkness replaced with lightness and love. Leaving me bursting with possibility. Realising  I am as I am where I am because I have chosen to be and it is up to me to change direction whenever I am ready and with help if need be.

After sitting on the deck eating our breakfast out in the bright sunshine and talking to more locals who stopped by to chat with us, we set off on our final leg back to Bisham Abbey. As we left the mooring, the sky suddenly darkened. For the first time since we had Sancerre the weather looked less than promising. But we cast off anyway. As we motored down the river, the sky grew got darker and darker. The air suddenly chilly. The river taking on a menacing colour, murky, dark. An ominous feeling hung in the air but we kept going.

Just as we reached our first lock of the day, Hambledon, a squall came through bringing with it strong wind, rain and a thunderstorm complete with fork lightning. As we tried to moor in the layby, the wind caught the stern and pushed it away from the layby. Our son having secured the bow line too tight for us to get it off so we were stuck. My husband shouting instructions for us to get Sancerre back on track. Eventually we were able to secure the stern enough to slacken the tension on the bow so that we could get the bow line off in time to get through the lock. We were relieved to have that lock behind us - the most tricky experience we had for the whole journey.  Pleased that we encountered the bad weather and the lock when we knew how to handle Sancerre.

Then the heavens opened after we motored through the lock, my husband asking for his rain pants as fork lightning flashed all around him. Our daughter taking refuge in her lower bunk so she could not hear the thunder or see the lightning. I ran around Sancerre securing windows to protect Sancere from getting too wet on the inside.

And then just like that, the squall passed. Half hour of what we could have experienced for the whole journey was nothing. Recognising England was trying to give us a taste of what she could really be like so we would not be lulled into any false expectations. Then the sun came back out causing steam to rise up out of the river like mist angels. The whole countryside glistening after the rain.

Before we knew it we were at the next lock, Temple, which was a breeze compared to the experience we had at Hambledon. Close behind Temple was our last lock of our journey, Hurley. As we neared it, we felt very nostalgic. To know we were now at the end of our time on the River. No more locks to go through. That was it. And when I threw my lines for the buoy I missed. The lockeeper let me try one more time and I missed again. So I threw the lines to her admitting defeat. Too caught up in trying to look like a pro rather than just doing what I had to do. Humbling me.

Once Bisham Abbey came into view, our feelings were mixed - a sense of relief that we had made it back safely but also a sense of sadness that our time on the river was definitely nearing the end. The sun coming out in its full glory as we were docking letting us see the Thames at its best. The trees gently shaking their leaves in the breeze. The Abbey looking quite majestic. The Universe rewarding us by giving us a breathtaking end to our journey. And then as we moored, the sky darkened again, obscuring the sun. The temperature dropped. But we were done. On the mooring until the morning when we hand the keys back over to David.

Turning to my husband saying how sad it was that time had passed by so quickly. Him looking at me with moist eyes saying that time had not passed too quickly. That it was just right. Perfect. A dream come true.

And he was right, it was perfect in every way. Not perfect in the sense that everything went according to plan. But perfect in the way that allows margin for error without judgement, resentment or malice. Perfect in the way that allowed us as a family to work together as a team. Be together as a family. Grow together in our experience on the river. And to just be in the present moment. Not knowing what was around the corner but still just going for it.

Ironically we moored at about the same time as when we had arrived one week before to board Sancerre. Marvelling at how different we were as a family and how we felt compared to when we arrived. Realising time has a way of changing us, enlightening us, guiding us and teaching us as long as we are open and receptive. And for this journey on the River Thames with my family I am truly grateful. And to the Universe for giving us the best weather to experience the River Thames in her glory. To endings and beginnings.  To journeying.