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Continue ahead, and where the path bears left keep ahead along a path marked “no cycling”. Follow this shady track, lined by high rhododendron, for the best part of a mile to arrive at Bishop’s Gate. Adjacent to the car park is the Fox and Hounds pub.The factsGetting thereLeave the M25 at Junction 13 and follow the A30 south-west towards Virginia Water. Park in the free car park by Bishop’s Gate, which is found at the end of Wick Lane, off the A30. The quickest way to Windsor from London by train is via Paddington to Slough (just over 20 minutes), where you then change for the Windsor train.

London Waterloo may be more convenient, though slower (50 minutes); there is a direct service to Windsor leaving every half hour.WalkDistance 8.5 miles Total walking time 4 hours OS Map: no 176. For information on Windsor Great Park see and for places to eat and drink and other activities in the area, see . Things started to go adrift as we turned left off the river S?e Niortaise Christopher, who’s eight, had been paddling well. His big brother Joseph, on the other side of the boat, was paddling even better There was a disparity. Sitting awkwardly in the back, my left leg in plaster, I had, despite my lack of canalmanship, kept us on a reasonably direct course while we remained within the doubting gaze of the mademoiselle from whom we had hired the boat.

“Stop paddling, Joe! Go, Christopher!” I would order as we proceeded swerve by gentle swerve down the watery highway. The front would nose its way into the tall, sturdy rushes lining the high banks while the rear continued serenely on its way, until we faced the way we had come and continued backwards.It would have been laughable, had there been anyone to laugh at us, but though we were still in Damvix (height above sea level: four metres), this was an eerily empty world.Here gardens straggled down to the weed-covered water. Landing stages and barques lay in disintegration, testimony to the decline of these waterways as the area’s means of travel and communication. As we left the last of the shuttered, seemingly uninhabited old properties, the silence was broken only by the splashing of our paddles and an early summer breeze rustling through the alders and poplars along the water’s edge. Sometimes the trees merged into darkening avenues that spanned our route, shards of sunlight piercing the canopy and playing on the green, still water ahead of us. Smaller canals opened up on either side, many rendered impassable by tangled roots, prompting dark thoughts of what secrets those long-unvisited routes might hold.