Wednesday Wanders E-Book

Mark Bowden

• Herausgeber: Grosvenor House Publishing
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 214

Beschreibung

Wednesday Wanders is a book about walking; not a guidebook with detailed route descriptions and maps, but the journal of a walker looking to broaden his horizons by seeing what could be achieved with an early start and still be home for tea (or supper more often). Weekly adventures setting out from northwest London to explore some of the long-distance footpaths of southeast England. Written in a light-hearted, humorous, but sometimes thoughtful style, it's a journal of determination and achievement sitting alongside not a little folly, with some inept navigation and unrealistic plans. More importantly, it's about what happened along the way, the fascination of places visited, the people met, the animals encountered, and perhaps most significantly, discovering the unexpected beauty and varied countryside in this corner of the country. Each chapter covers one of the seven routes attempted. Starting with the London LOOP, although this was the last walk completed. Chapter two returns to the beginning with a naïve walker setting out on the first stage of the North Downs Way from Farnham to Guildford on a wet and travel-disrupted day in early November. That chapter finishes five months later, on a bright but windy spring day, along the cliff tops into Dover. Proving that you can indeed complete a long-distance path in day trips. Five more routes are covered: the Ridgeway, Icknield Way Path, the Chiltern Way, Greensand Way, and the Hertfordshire Way. Some walks were interrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic or the onset of winter when the days were too short to complete their further reaches, but all were eventually finished. A thousand miles of walking recalled in a diary entry format. Each outing is dated, and the location and mileage given.

Leseprobe

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1 The London LOOP

Chapter 2 The North Downs Way

Chapter 3 The Ridgeway Path

Chapter 4 The Icknield Way Path

Chapter 5 The Chiltern Way

Chapter 6 The Greensand Way

Chapter 7 The Hertfordshire Way

Copyright

Introduction

The relentless headwind is trying its best, but has failed yet again to prevent me from reaching the top of an impossibly steep climb. This is the third or fourth; I’ve lost count. Suddenly, that same wind has turned ally, acting as a brake to the equally steep descent. This clifftop path is diverted inland for a few hundred yards in a few places where the eroded chalk is considered too unstable. To my left is the ever-present traffic noise from the A20 trunk road making its way to Dover, as am I. There is some reprieve from the noise and the elements when the trail runs through short corridors of gorse bush. But lingering in the bushes seems unwise, so the peace and tranquillity last only a few seconds.

I was on the final few miles of the North Downs Way, the first of my weekly long-distance-path adventures. I had set out on the first stage on a wet Wednesday in November, armed with an Ordnance Survey (OS) map and a naïve belief that waymarkers alone would suffice. This final section was completed the following April, a week before Easter. I’d learned a lot, was fitter, and, hopefully, a little wiser.

This book contains an account of that first long-distance path, plus the six others that followed. Taken from the write-ups I’d produced for a few loyal Facebook friends, they tell of success and folly, people met, and places visited. There are a few repetitive themes: early morning trains, coffee and cake, navigational follies, steep hills, muddy footpaths, and Antarctic explorers. But I have also tried to convey something of the beautiful vistas and the joy of walking a thousand miles on some of south-east England’s finest long-distance trails.

Chapter One

The London LOOP

The London Outer Orbital Path, or London LOOP, was not my first long-distance path. It was the latest. The semi-urban route might lack the remote countryside and magnificent views encountered on the preceding walks, but it was full of interest and many surprises as the path threads around the borderland of Greater London and the Home Counties. And I felt it would make a fitting start to this account of my adventures.

Yet I was reluctant to do the walk. During my 44 years as a service engineer, I visited most parts of south-east England. The majority of my calls, though, were in and around the capital, and I was anxious to explore further afield in retirement. The need for a project over the wintertime and reading some good reviews won me over. The LOOP starts on the south bank of the Thames Estuary and makes its way clockwise for 150 miles around London. There is some road walking but also an abundance of parkland, riverside paths, and open countryside. A cleverly conceived and highly enjoyable walk.

Erith to Petts Wood: 6 October 2022 (16 miles)

Stepping out from the rather grand railway station, you can understand why Erith, perched on the south bank of the Thames Estuary, once had ambitions as a resort. It’s hard to believe we’re still in London, and although it might be my imagination, there’s a hint of sea breeze in the air. I know Erith has a riverside garden and pier, which I’m yet to see, but first, it’s coffee. The town centre is almost deserted at 8.00 am, with most shops still firmly shuttered. The only activity is the stall traders unloading produce from delivery vans. Thankfully, I can still find somewhere for coffee and a bun to launch my new adventure.

The first LOOP sign I find is in the Riverside Gardens. It’s wonky, but points in generally the right direction, and without an official start point, it will suffice. Now for a reality check. I soon discover that it’s not deckchairs and amusement arcades that drive this town but the surrounding and encroaching industry. Much of it seems to be metal recycling. It will take four miles to shake off its noisy presence.

Skirting around Morrison’s car park, then an uncomfortable mile along a narrow pavement, with the noise and fumes of a constant stream of lorries serving the numerous trading estates. I’m relieved when the road runs out, and I’m on the path leading across Crayford Marshes and onto Crayford Ness. It’s here that the Darent flows into the Thames. The corner where the rivers meet has a wild look: one small bush bravely standing alone among an expanse of tussocky grass. On a windy day, it would not be a place to linger. The brutal crash of metal on metal from the recycling plants still rings loudly across the scene. Turning away from the estuary, the route follows the Darent and then the River Cray to Bexley. But it’s not without negotiating busy road junctions and crossing several railway bridges. One is left in no doubt suburbia is close at hand.

After leaving Bexley, things feel much more rural as the route enters Foots Cray Meadows with its generous tract of Green Belt running either side of the Cray. Reaching the town of Foots Cray and having walked 11 miles, it’s time for lunch. I’m a bit weary and almost settle for a bench beside the busy traffic lights. Rejecting that thirty seconds after sitting down, I manage a few more hundred yards to a small park behind the allotments. Wishing I’d stopped earlier, by the river. The afternoon’s highlights are undoubtedly Scadbury Park Nature Reserve and Petts Wood. Noise from road and rail links seldom disappears entirely, but at least we’ve left the scrapyards behind.

The expansive Petts Wood contains a hidden gem close to my heart. Leaving the main path, I fight through the undergrowth like Speck and Burton searching for the source of the Nile (or so I pretended). And suddenly, a clearing appeared and, with it, the object of my search. An obelisk, about five-feet high, with a sundial on one side and an intriguing inscription on the other, ‘This wood was purchased by public subscription as a tribute to WILLIAM WILLETT, the untiring advocate of Summer Time.’ In the early 20th century, he harangued the government to introduce daylight saving (now BST). A young Winston Churchill took up the cause, but it would take World War One to make it law, and we have not looked back (or is it forward?) since. There is a pub in Petts Wood named ‘The Daylight Inn’ in Willett’s honour.

This will be a somewhat different challenge from my recent, remoter ventures – for example, meeting people. A friendly lot, they seem too, which is nice. But whatever happens, I’ve started, so I’ll finish.

Petts Wood to South Croydon: 26 October 2022 (13 miles)

Following an enforced three-week Covid break, it was good to get back on the trail today. However, my first steps are tentative as I contemplate the fine line between adventure and folly. A line I have occasionally crossed but must avoid today. The refrain to ‘Just be sensible and stop when you’re tired’ is still ringing in my ears.

There’s so much glorious countryside on today’s walk that it’s hard to believe we are still in Greater London, Bromley, to be more precise. Much of it was once in Kent, and one could understand any fellow feeling with those who mourn the loss of Middlesex.

Although the day was not without its busy roads and housing estates, there were also several miles of woodland paths and expansive green parkland. Much of the latter once formed the large estates of the wealthy, perhaps wanting to establish their presence near, but not too near, the capital. One is High Elms Country Park, now a council-owned nature reserve. The Italian-style mansion burnt down long ago. An Eton Fives court is one structure that has survived for over 170 years and is virtually unscathed. A bizarrely shaped three-sided concrete playing area, not unlike a squash court but with the addition of hazards such as a buttress encroaching on the playing area. Invented by a school famous for producing prime ministers. It has a lot to answer for.

Keeping with the political theme, it’s only a short distance until we meet another country estate, Holwood. Climbing a path to a hilltop where to the right, and fenced off to the general public, is a stone bench. To the left and slightly downhill is a forlorn tree that has all but been destroyed by lightning, just one broken branch pointing skywards. And the significance of both the bench and the tree? It’s the spot where Wilberforce and Pitt the Younger first discussed the abolition of slavery. Three walkers have stopped to read the inscription and we talk for a few minutes. ‘Where are you heading?’ they ask. I tell them I hope to get to Banstead but having been unwell for a couple of weeks, I may finish sooner. I don’t share the nature of my illness. They walk on, but I linger for a few more minutes to appreciate the spot and drink some water.

A third and tenuous political link is found shortly after descending what we might call Wilberforce Hill (although it’s not). And that link is Caesar’s Well. It’s the source of the River Ravensbourne on its epic 11 mile journey to meet the Thames at Deptford. An attractive circular, brick construction pools and channels the emerging spring to a series of three large ponds whose output becomes the river. As I follow the path around the first pond, or lake really, I see my trio of new friends sitting at a picnic table at the top of an embankment. They wave enthusiastically, which is nice.

Like many open spaces around outer London, Wickham Common is owned and maintained by The City of London Corporation. Invariably characterised by imposingly large black notice boards, on the back of which are written so many by-laws that it must surely be the reason the boards are so big. Number 12 catches my eye and includes the following prohibitions: ‘no placing clothes or other things on the trees’ and ‘no shaking, beating or brushing carpets or mats’. I feel like bringing a mat to shake in defiance.

A lovely walk through Threehalfpenny Wood brought me to Addington Hill and a stiff climb to the concrete viewing point. From here are great views towards Croydon and much of south London. This includes the Crystal Palace television transmitter, which I’m particularly excited about.

As it was a being-sensible day, when I got to the bottom of the hill, I caught a tram from Coombe Lane station into Croydon (and thence a train home). Work often took me to the town, and it might be interesting to see it again. To some, Croydonisation may be a pejorative term, but it’s not so bad a place.

South Croydon to South Coulsdon: 1 November 2022 (12 miles)

Today’s section of the LOOP looked promising, with its woodland paths and green spaces twisting around suburbia like a cunning snake. Happy Valley and Farthing Downs sounded especially spectacular. But it didn’t quite work out as planned.

The train to Croydon and the tram to the start went ok, as did the first couple of miles through parkland and a nature reserve. A relatively dull and chilly day, but, as yet, no rain.

Then I got to Selsdon Wood. A steep climb through this ancient woodland during which I got lost, it started to rain (just as I had the map spread on the ground), and the irregular heartbeat that has plagued me for several years made an unwelcome appearance. And finally, on a narrow and uneven descent, I slipped on an exposed tree root and began sliding downhill feet first. Grabbing a nearby sapling, I just about managed to arrest my fall. Sitting for a minute for some existential pondering before taking a quick selfie to check for damage and, back up on my feet, carefully I carried on.

Now on firmer ground and with a brief show of sunshine, life seemed much better. My heart wasn’t right but should cope as long as there were no more hills. Of course, there were. But for now, the pleasant and gentle path descending into Hamsey Green was trouble-free.

I had meant to buy something for lunch when I got to Croydon but forgot and tried to find a convenience store in the parade of shops here. However, not wanting to go too much out of my way, I only got as far as the hairdressers and the undertakers before giving up. Oh well, I had a flask of tea.

The route continued on the far side of the road, over a railway bridge, and along a dead end that slowly rose to the base of Kenley Common. The way to the top is via a short but steep zig-zag path. This usually means it’s too steep to go straight up. I’d normally embrace the challenge, but still feeling far from well, it was a horrible prospect. I paused before attempting the task, looked back across the valley, and was astonished at what I saw. Looming high above the recently crossed main road was a wide expanse of chalk cliff. Who would have believed it, the White Cliffs of Bromley? A remnant of 19th-century mining activity.

But I can’t put off the moment any longer to start my ‘serious climb’ as the guidebook has it. Short it may have been, but by the time I staggered onto the somewhat bleak common, I was in a bad way. It took several minutes until I felt ready to head along the woodland path that skirts the right-hand edge of the plateau. Further on, a lesser path dives through the trees to follow close to what was Kenley Airfield in World War Two.

The LOOP drops down to visit Old Coulsdon before entering Happy Valley. This is the title of the first novel by one of my favourite authors, Patrick White, set in the Australian outback. It wasn’t a very happy valley. Nor, I suspect, is the TV series one set in West Yorkshire, judging by the trailers. But at least this one made me happy, following a level and firm path. Passing a bench, I decided to stop and enjoy my flask of tea.

Happy Valley leads onto Farthing Downs and has a view over the houses of South Coulsdon, before the track drops into the town near the station. This is a convenient stopping point as the trail crosses the platform bridge. But before considering a train home, I need food. Nothing in the immediate vicinity, so I head towards the town centre. Sandwiches would do, but I fancy a bit more and search the high street until I find a café where I order sausage, egg and chips.

It wasn’t award-winning cuisine, and the large-screen TV just a few feet away showing a programme about vets, with rather too graphic scenes of a donkey being castrated, was a little off-putting. But hungry, tired, and a bit fed up with the spirit-versus-body thing, it was terrific. I even had a second cup of tea.

South Coulsdon to Kingston: 15 November 2022 (16 miles)

If I asked you what London is famous for, I suspect lavender growing would be pretty low on the list. However, it was a thriving industry during the 18th and 19th centuries. And it’s been revived at Mayfield Lavender Fields in Sutton. Complete with a visitor centre and gift shop, Time Out rates it London’s number one lavender venue, and the LOOP passes right through the middle. Although, being November, there is no ‘Purple Haze’ to flood the senses, just a grey carpet of summer memories.

Much of today’s walk is in Surrey, a county which someone has calculated is 2.65% golf course. I only encountered one today, which went surprisingly well by my standards. In fact, it’s a good day all round as some early dampness gives way to a modestly bright day, and I have no repeat of the health problems that plagued my last outing.

After a reasonably long road section through South Ewell, the trail enters Nonsuch Park. Apparently, it was given that name after someone exclaimed, ‘There is nonsuch in all Europe.’ It has a mansion which I don’t visit because the LOOP doesn’t. The trail only crosses the park’s south-west corner, and there’s no time for diversions.

This vast space was a hunting ground for Henry VIII, which required the destruction of the village of Cuddington to accommodate it. We do pass where his palace was, now no more, and the foundations of a banqueting house for the king to entertain his guests. Chasing defenceless animals around the countryside must have been hungry work.

But we can’t leave Nonsuch without mentioning ‘The Ghost Roads’– two parallel concrete tracks that run through the woods on the park’s southern boundary. Several theories exist about why, when, and by whom they were built. One idea is that they were for an atmospheric railway, i.e., that used air pressure to drive it. Another thought is that they were built during World War Two as a track to a secret bunker or an emergency landing strip for aircraft. The most plausible but prosaic theory is that it was a new road abandoned at the outbreak of war. I think it was for landing alien spaceships. Maybe they are still with us. Who knows, maybe I’m an alien?

The second half of the route mostly follows the Hogsmill River on its six-mile journey from the source at Ewell to the Thames at Kingston. Little more than a stream at first, it swells to a broad and fast-flowing river as it anticipates the end of its short journey. The riverside paths make walking easy and enjoyable with only the occasional ‘sticky patch’. I’m sure more stickiness will follow in the coming months.

It’s raining when I arrive in Kingston, and I want to get to the station as quickly as possible. But only after visiting an iconic art installation, 12 red telephone boxes, stacked like a falling row of dominoes frozen in time. I wonder if this is a nod to Kingston upon Hull with its cream white telephone boxes (some now Grade ll listed apparently). But probably not.

Kingston to Hayes: 23 November 2022 (13 miles)

Standing on the top balcony of the Bentall’s Shopping Centre, the already impressive space looked even more splendid in its Christmas livery, and the numerous escalators and winding staircases gave the impression of a giant 3D snakes and ladders game – Yuletide edition. What fun that would be. It was 9.00 am, and few people had voluntarily ventured out on this dismally wet morning. But I needed coffee after a fraught journey to Kingston.

Clapham Junction at rush hour had lived up to its reputation as the personification of a frantically busy space – people rushing like ants in a nest through the walkways that connect its 17 platforms, although stopping short of exchanging pheromones at each turning. Add a miserable half hour waiting on an exposed platform at Willesden Junction station, where the bedraggled passengers were offered as a sacrifice to the elemental gods, and you might excuse a soft start to my adventure.

Much of today’s route could be described as the Clapham Junction of the London LOOP, a frenetic corner of south-west London that includes several major roads and a motorway, usually enough of a distraction on their own, today they are eclipsed by another presence – Heathrow Airport.

Firstly, I must tear myself away from the warm, dry coffee shop and head for Kingston Bridge. On the other side is Bushy Park, adjacent to Hampton Court and yet another hunting ground for Henry VIII. It covers a vast area that will take 30 minutes to cross, even at a fast, non-lingering pace.

Long after Henry’s hunting parties had departed, Charles I took a more ascetic view of things by commissioning the Longford River, a 12-mile canal built to bring water to the palace and to supply the various fountains and lakes in the park. Then came William III, who commissioned the ostentatious Chestnut Avenue, a mile-long grand approach to the palace from the north. One further fact that would most likely have all three monarchs turning in their graves is that Bushy Park is where the Park Run originated.

After taking the exit to Teddington, there is a long stretch along roads until, with some relief, the river Crane is met. For about four miles, the LOOP follows the river wherever it can, offering some respite from the busy roads. I see more of Hounslow Heath than planned when I miss a sharp turn that would have reunited me with the Crane. An unexpectedly wild place amid so much turmoil and, apparently, once a dangerous place frequented by highwaymen in wait for travellers leaving the capital. They have long since gone, thankfully.

In the 18th Century, the initial five mile triangulation baseline for the Board of Ordnance (later the Ordnance Survey) ran across the heath. This allowed the mapping of the whole of Britain to be achieved with extortionary accuracy. In an undemonstrative act of homage, I tap the trouser pocket which is housing my OS Explorer map (161 South London).

I’ve already rejected two lunch-stop benches as unsuitable; the first is surrounded by swampy grass, and the other is too low and too weird, with rough-hewn planks crawling with realistic carvings of giant insects. So, when I pass a ‘just right’ bench along a short stretch of the Crane, I gratefully sit down. The only problem is this tiny patch of riverside path is sandwiched between two very busy roads. I have the A312 Causeway in my left ear and the A30 Great West Road in my right.

Approaching Cranford, the route follows a generously wide tract of grassland before the path turns away from the river into residential streets. Every few minutes, a mighty roar heralded the appearance of the massive bulk of an airliner. A menacing shadow engulfing the houses in its wake. Flying so low, it was almost possible to read the maker’s name on the landing gear tyres.

The river is re-joined a little further along the high street, and a pleasant walk through woods and parkland leads to a tunnel under the M4 motorway. A bit further, and the Hayes Bypass is negotiated. An iron bridge twists down to the Grand Union Canal and a mile along the towpath brings me to Hayes and Harlington Station and the first of three trains home.

Hayes to Moor Park: 7 December 2022 (18 miles)

I was able to catch a bus to today’s starting point. The same bus could have taken me to Heathrow Airport with its promise of far-off lands and places whose names I have never quite got the hang of pronouncing. But my destination is somewhat less exotic, a bridge over a canal. To be precise, it’s Bridge 200 next to Hayes and Harlington Station, and it will lead me onto the Grand Union Canal. Walking along canals is not my favourite terrain, but it’s ok. Just happy to be out adventuring.

However, there is some early respite as the route takes a detour to visit Stockley Park. First, the business estate, salubrious with its green lawns and elaborate water features. It hosts some prestigious company offices as well as football’s controversial video assistant referee (VAR) system. Crossing the road to the adjoining golf course, I encounter the usual navigational nightmare. I’m looking for a bridge that rises high above a busy dual carriageway and takes me into Stockley Country Park.

Given that the bridge’s primary purpose is to give golfers access to a part of the course cut off by the road, I was surprised when a trio of golfers were less than unanimous when I asked for directions. ‘Follow that path round to the right,’ said one. ‘No, best to go left and across the fairway,’ said another. The third had nothing to add.

I resorted to dead reckoning by climbing the highest spots on this undulating course to spy the suspension bridge’s tall concrete A-frame. On the other side, the path soon leads to a viewing point that looks south to the Surrey Hills. Then it’s a descent through woods to rejoin the canal.

Another mile on the Grand Union before meeting the canal’s Slough Arm, a five-mile dead end that peters out to a reed bed next to Shaggy Calf Lane, opposite is a pub that’s been converted into a bathroom store. Honestly, with attractions like this, who needs to go abroad? I’m only doing the first mile, as far as the footbridge over the canal that will take me to meet the River Colne. Looking down on the towpath below, I recall that John Betjeman was quite rude about Slough in one of his poems. I wonder if he had ever walked along here and, if so, in which direction.

Soon I reach Little Britain Lake, so called because, from the air, it vaguely resembles the shape of mainland Britain, whether by accident or design, I do not know. I start just off Land’s End, skirt northwards around Wales and the west coast of Scotland, leaving somewhere near the Outer Hebrides. A couple more miles follow the river, the first very enjoyable with a meandering path following the contours of the Colne through woodland. The second mile was less pleasant, reduced to a scraggy narrow strip of land sandwiched between the river and the boundary wall of the West London Industrial Park. It’s almost a relief to be reunited with the canal.

I say almost a relief because it’s a five-mile slog running north from Uxbridge. There is some welcome variation with an off-canal diversion via the adjacent Harefield Lakes. This is the first outing for my new boots, and I’m thankful to find a bench on a small roadside green to stop for lunch. Back on the canal for one last time to get to West Hyde, where I finally bid farewell to the Grand Union.

The trail climbs through woodlands and open farmland for five miles to reach Moor Park. Unexpectedly lovely countryside it is, so close to suburbia, but after 13 miles on flat ground, the hills are felt, and the stiles seem unnecessarily numerous and high. It’s starting to get dark, but with a tricky section through the woods safely negotiated, it’s just half a mile to the station along a path sandwiched between the railway tracks and Sandy Lodge Golf Club. Briefly, through the trees, I see a bright moon shining down on the deserted greens.