London LOOP Sections 9 and 10 – Kingston to Hatton Cross, then on to Hayes 28th December 2011
12 months have passed since we started the Loop, but the end is in sight. Last section we reached the Thames and it is a significant milestone to actually cross it on foot for the one and only time on the whole circuit. Whilst the Christmas Sales shoppers teem around Kingston on Thames, we escape over the bridge and onto the Middlesex side (as they say in the Boat Race).
As we pass through the gates of Bushy Park, we are greeted by the biggest kissing gates on the Loop. Made of wrought iron and standing in excess of 4 metres in height, they are an impressive piece of Loop furniture. I’m wondering if the local Bushy folk are a breed of giants, or short but very fat people, when a cyclist appears and uses the gate with ease. I suspect that when the gates were created cycling had yet to be invented, with horse-riders probably being the beneficiaries of the excessive space provided. The reason for their impressive height becomes apparent on entry to the park, with notices advising dog owners to stay away from the rutting red deer.
Red deer are capable of impressive leaps and can vault an ordinary fence with ease. The Royal Parks managers obviously wanted their deer to remain inside the park, where they could be hunted, or just enjoyed, without risk of them escaping. Nowadays I suspect it is the police and local council who do not want deer wandering down a busy Kingston High Street in the middle of the winter sales.
Once again we discover from the Loop Directions that the owner of the Ladybird Book of Tudors has founds an opportunity to tell us more about his favourite family. We are advised that Henry VIII is to be thanked for his good works in stocking Bushy Park with deer. Did he ever do anything else but hunt deer, I wonder? Oh yes he married several times as well. That would probably have accounted for the rest of his considerable energies.
As we walk I am impressed by the nature of this royal park, which unlike Hyde Park and other Central London parks is not a sea of manicured green sward, but is allowed to grow naturally and is evidently uncut by machinery. The deer are probably the ones responsible for the control of any would-be invasion by tree saplings. Large areas of tussock grass and bracken are excellent for native British wildlife. However, they make for more difficult walking, so we stick to the main path in order to make good time. This proves to be a mistake.
Elsewhere on the Loop it is generally hard to get lost. The maps, directions and waymarkers are generally sufficient to ensure adherence to the official course. This over-dependence on outside assistance is folly in an open space such as Bushy Park, where the provision of waymark signs is limited, the directions are ambiguous and where open country makes the map fairly useless. On upland tracts of open country a compass is a useful addition to ones orienteering armoury, but how many Loop walkers bother to take one? I confess that the ease of finding my way along the course of the Loop is one of its attractions, enabling one to enjoy the local scenery. I love the open country provided by Bushey and other such areas, but one needs to be cautious not to lose ones way.
Eventually we rejoin the directed course and negotiate our way around the lakes. These are packed with native water birds excited by the large amount of Christmas bread ration a lady and her young son are sharing with them. As one of the black-headed gulls grabs a particularly large chunk he makes off with it on laboured wings. The weight of the bread, his attempts to eat as much of it as he can and the attentions of his unburdened flock-mates, mean that inevitably he will drop most, if not all, the bread. One of the others then picks up the bread, in turn pursued by the rest of the pack. And so it continues. This strikes me as being a most inefficient way of feeding, considering how much energy must be expended in the whole process. I suspect the more well-mannered birds who take smaller pieces of bread do much better.
It is here that we are re-acquainted with London’s parakeet population. The Royal Park managers have had the good sense to leave old hollowed trees still standing. We watch as one is busy inspecting a suitable hole in one of these venerable old stumps. We are not alone. A gentleman with the sort of lens suitable for photographing a celebrity on a yacht a mile away is also paying them close attention. I suspect it is the bright colours and generally exotic nature of these non-indigenous birds that attracts so much interest from Londoners. It can only be good that they are so eye catching, as it is high profile urban dwellers such as grey squirrels, foxes and parakeets, that probably captures so many people’s interest in British wildlife.
Parakeets and gulls can present a seductive cocktail of distraction to the wildlife watcher, so much so that I forget to read the directions correctly and we end up at the Diana Fountain instead of crossing Chestnut Avenue. At first my pride gets the better of me and I try to reorganise Bushy Park to fit my own perception of how it should look. Very quickly Betty points out my folly and we have to retrace our steps to find the correct route. In fairness we never did find the “white railing with fence posts” or “large old water pump on a plinth” indicated on the Loop directions.
Eventually we make it to the Waterhouse Woodland Gardens, where the geography of paths and watercourses makes wayfinding somewhat easier. Here we pause by one of the ponds and enjoy a flask of hot soup. It is a cold, but not unpleasant day, with the hint of sunshine to come. As we sit, it becomes evident that this is parakeet central as they screech at each other from the trees. However, there is a new bird call, one we have not heard before, other than perhaps from an aviary of exotic birds. We soon realise that this more drawn-out screech is coming from the parakeets and we assume it must be some sort of mating call that we have failed to observe during encounters with them over the last 12 months. Spring is in the air.
Our attention is then caught by a pair of large, but rather unattractive geese, picking their way over the short cropped grass. Unlike waddling ducks or running geese, these creatures walk in a very careful manner, with a slight bob at the end of each step. They are in fact Egyptian Geese. When I look at them I am reminded of the strange walk delivered by models on a catwalk. Like these, they have faces that are elaborately painted. However, the resemblance stops here, since their own make-up is quite bizarre. It appears to be overdone, with a big brown blob around each eye. The backs of their necks are also a rather scabby looking chocolate brown. Pink beaks and legs contrast wildly with the patchwork of browns and beiges all over their bodies. They have the overall appearance of the ‘Second Hand Roses’ of the bird world, making-do with other people’s cast offs. Nonetheless, this immigrant avian is doing very nicely in the UK, with over 700 pairs breeding here each year.
The Waterhouse Woodland Walk is a beautifully designed and maintained island of gardens surrounded by the vast parkland of Bushy Park. One of the more striking features is the rooting system of the swamp cypress trees that line the watercourse. These unusual roots have aerial extensions protruding above ground (and swamp waters in the wild) through which they are able to take in oxygen.
As we pick our way along the paths, parakeets calling from the trees, we stumble across lovely little glades. The best of these is to be found in the second section of woodland garden, close to River Lodge. Here trees, ponds, watercourses, ferns and woodland turf conspire to create a magical elfin woodscape. Were it summer we would perhaps tarry a little longer, but cold weather and the prospect of darkness by 4pm push us along through the woods and out through another large kissing gate.
Were it summer we would perhaps tarry a little longer
As suggested in the Loop directions, we turn left to admire the River Longford. This is an attractive piece of waterway, but what the Loop directions fail to reveal is that this canal, built in 1639, is all of 13 miles in length and was constructed purely to take water from the River Colne, so that Hampton Court could have its water features. Charles I was obviously a man with expensive tastes, doubtless one of the many faults that got his head and his shoulder blades separated by Oliver Cromwell.
We then return to the job in hand, completion of this section of Loop by sunset. Walking briskly we head north through the park, only to be delayed by the sight of a bachelor party of Red Deer stags. Sitting with that imperious regal look upon their faces they appear quite gentle, a far cry from their aggressive behaviour during the autumn rutting season.
Eventually we emerge from Bushy Park and out onto Hampton Road and then through an area of attractive residential housing before walking up Burton’s Road alongside Fulwell Park. Perhaps one day the route can take in this area of London green space, as the walk up Burton’s Road seems a tad unnecessary. We get to cross the western end of Fulwell Park and find ourselves at the David Lloyd Centre next to Staines Road.
By this time we feel in need of both toilets and a cup of coffee. The David Lloyd Centre is very accommodating offering Costa Coffee in giant coffee cups, overlooking its own indoor swimming pool. I don’t ask the price of membership but suspect it is way beyond our means. We take the liberty of surreptitiously consuming our own cup cakes and bananas and for this we beg Mr Lloyds pardon. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, since he always seemed such a nice chap when I used to watch him playing David Cup tennis when I was a boy.
Suitably fortified we head off down the busy A305 Staines Road before diving left into a small area of interesting housing. Two of the houses are of the ‘International’ Style popular in the 1930’s, with their white rendered facades and flat roofs. Beyond this interesting little backwater we emerge onto Hospital Bridge Road and soon find ourselves walking alongside the River Crane as it picks its way through west London on its way to the Thames.
The River Crane, running through Crane Park, is the very image of tranquillity. Looks can however be deceptive. A few hundred years ago this would have been an area of intense industrial activity, where the existence of a gunpowder mill would doubtless have shattered the current solitude with not infrequent explosions. All that is left of this activity today is the remains of protective blast mounds and the Shot Tower.
The Shot tower
The blast mounds would have been some 10 or more feet tall, deflecting any blast upwards instead of reeking destruction across the whole site. Good news for those outside of the blast mound, but of little consolation to the poor souls blown to pieces within.
The Shot Tower was an early method or making round shot for muskets etc. It involved dropping molten lead from the top of the tower into a trough of cold water below. The falling metal would have cooled in flight, forming spherical lumps of solid metal by the time it reached the trough.
Of course the river is a further remnant of the factory, its power being used to mill the gunpowder. Water would have been diverted from the main river along a mill race from which it tumbled over (or under) a water wheel, before rejoining the main river. This has left an island, which is currently used to benefit wildlife as a nature reserve.
One interesting development, to enhance the river, has been the placing of wing dikes (boulders in lines from the bank to midstream). Besides making great places for kids to walk out into midstream, they also break up the flow of the river, creating areas of concentrated flow and contrasting areas of slow flow. This broadens the range of aquatic habitats and the biodiversity of the river.
A further neat idea is the creation of an outdoor classroom, using gabions full of logs, capped off with wooden seating. The inclusion of a blackboard is perhaps asking for unwanted graffiti from less sympathetic visitors, but hopefully this innovation will help visiting children to learn about their natural environment.
Thoroughly enthused by Crane Park we turn onto Hanworth Road. In the distance we can see the procession of passenger jets apparently lumbering slowly over Central London, as they close in on Heathrow Airport, not 2 miles from where we stand. Each lumbering giant appears to inch its way over Hounslow before dropping out of sight, followed a minute or so later by a roar of reverse thrusting engines, as it grinds to a halt at the western end of the runway. More of this later.
The procession of passenger jets on their way to land at Heathrow
Shortly after passing Hounslow Cemetery we turn left across a small area of urban green space before entering the last vestige of Hounslow Heath. What is left is a sad remnant of the massive area of lowland heath that once covered the whole of west London. If the 3,000 hectares that once existed here had not been removed over the centuries, it would be considerably more than the current world total of lowland heath.
Nonetheless, this is still a place of some ecological significance today. What is left of the true heathland (5 hectares) supports a wide range of plants and animals including common heather, bell heather, gorse, broom, a wide range of insects and 132 bird species. The use of grazing highland cattle is an economic and very effective means of managing the heathland.
Once again my map reading skills are severely tested by the lack of waymarking, paucity of directions and my interest in what is to be seen here. Alas, once again I get us lost. Just as well Hounslow Heath is no longer 3000 hectares in extent, otherwise one of the once infamous highwaymen would have taken everything I had, as I wandered lost on this blasted heath. Fortunately it proves relatively easy to retrieve the situation, with the landing planes to guide us.
Eventually we find Hounslow Heath Golf Course and make our way down to the River Crane as it passes through Brazil Mill Woods. This part of the Loop is one of those secluded places that could be anywhere in Britain, but seems unlikely in our capital. Just the two of us, with the woods and the river as companions. After a brief interruption by Staines Road we continue along the riverside as it passes through Donkey Wood. We see no living soul, with the exception of two stalwart fishermen bent over their rods, in Donkey Wood. I don’t suppose many people are likely to walk this way at sunset in late December, but the sense of it being all ours is quite luxurious.
Our walk is finished off as we follow the recycled plastic boardwalk through the alder trees which indicate how wet this woodland is. Doubtless the river floods quite frequently, thereby necessitating the creation of this manmade structure. It is most welcome, although the springy nature of the plastic is a little disconcerting.
A final stretch of woodland sees us emerge onto the busy A30 and the familiar roar of London traffic. The sun has set but the last vestiges of daylight permeate the air as we take life in hand and risk crossing the A30 instead of the recommended 1-mile detour via Hatton Cross. Despite the fading light we have decided to risk the 3.5 miles of the next section of the Loop before returning home.
Section 10
And so begins what may be the only ever complete walking of a section of the London Loop after sunset. Well everything is worth trying once. Perhaps. The whole expedition gets off to a problematic start, in that I have somehow lost the Loop directions for the first part of Section 10. We will just have to navigate the next mile or two by map alone.
However, having crossed the A30 we soon realise why the Section 9 directions directed us towards Hatton Cross – the Piccadilly Line bars our route. This is not apparent to us from the map, but is quite clearly the case once investigated. We therefore have to turn left and walk most of the way to Hatton Cross on the far verge of the A30, before we can rejoin the Loop.
The first Loop waymark is easily spotted and we follow the slip road before taking the road, which is blocked by a metal barrier. This is easily negotiated and after passing over the River Crane we soon find a waymarked path down to its far bank. Despite the failing light, the walking is not difficult and the way is well marked. Eventually we arrive at a large playing field area where we have an excellent view of the incoming planes as they approach the end of Heathrow Airport’s runway.
In fact the viewing is affected by the absence of daylight. What we actually watch is a line of incoming landing lights dropping lower and lower, with the planes themselves not really visible until they draw level a few hundred metres ahead of us. This is pretty mesmerising stuff and we spend several minutes watching successive planes coming in to land.
However, the holy grail has to be to stand right beneath one of these monsters, as it roof hops on its way into Heathrow. Across the playing field we enter what must be the noisiest street in the UK – Waye Avenue. As we walk along Waye Avenue we get closer and closer to the centre of the flight path, until approximately every 2 minutes we are bombarded with the roar of passing jet engines as the planes pass within a few hundred metres of the house roofs.
You have to wonder how people put up with the noise level here, but perhaps they just don’t notice it any more. I can almost imagine people in the street sitting up in bed, when the 9/11 global grounding of airplanes occurred, saying “what’s that?” I suppose they must have known what they were letting themselves in for when they moved here. Didn’t they?
After some 20 minutes or more in Waye Avenue we get our answer to my question regarding how they cope, when one of the locals pops out of his house and makes me jump out of my skin, as he bellows to a friend a mere 50 metres away down the road. They are all obviously stone deaf!
Beyond Waye Avenue is the busy Bath Road. We cross this and turn westward accompanied by incoming planes to our left. We cross the road bridge over the River Crane and then plunge into total darkness as we cross Berkeley Meadows. By this stage I am trying to read the Loop map using Bettys’ miniature flashlight. She has to guide me along the path since it is impossible to read the map and see where I am going at the same time. A couple of shadowy figures are spotted to our right, skulking around the playground area. This is probably not the best place to go for a night walk and I suspect these are a pair of ne’r-do-wells who could easily follow us and mug us in a more secluded place.
Ahead of us Betty points out 2 further shadowy figures who are fortunately walking away from us. As we get to the end of the path, we arrive at a well-lit road and turn right and then almost immediately left along a path into the woods. With just our tiny torch to guide us we pick our way along the path and cross a narrow, single planked bridge before turning left alongside the River Crane. I am in front at this point and hear the sudden sound of someone running past me, as I turn there is no-one behind me, other than Betty a few paces behind. I turn to see who ran past and once again no-one. I realise then that the noise was that of a large bird taking off in the tree next to me.
Thereafter, every bird for miles around seems to be upset by our passage, taking off in all directions, until we opt for turning off the torch and walking in silence. This is an excellent strategy and allows our eyes to accommodate to the low light. In fact anywhere around Heathrow is bound to benefit from some of the glow from the busiest International Passenger Airport in the world.
It makes for dry reading relating what the Loop is like in the dark, once in open country. I have little idea what the scenery is like between Hatton Cross and Hayes and will have to walk it again one day to see what I missed. However, the excitement and novelty of walking in the dark (or near dark) is highly recommended. In my work I do night walks with children on a regular basis and they love it. But walking alone or with one other person at night gives a real sense of solitude and a sense of peeking behind the curtains of nature whilst it is asleep. Of course the idea that nature is asleep is a myth, since many invertebrates, reptiles, amphibians, mammals and even birds are more active at night.
With the River Crane on our left we follow the obvious route. The downside of walking unaided by torch light is that we overlook the direction to turn left through Cranford Park. This means that we eventually intercept the road to the church in the wrong place and have to spend several minutes reading and re-reading the directions, looking at the map, searching for waymarkers and trying to get our bearings. In the end we twig that we have missed the earlier left turn and so head off down the road towards the church, which we take on trust will be there somewhere.
It is perhaps ironic that this must be the section of the Loop directions that has the most information regarding the history of the location. As I write I read the information provided, for the first time. It seems there is a ha-ha by the playground and think it is just as well we didn’t go that way as I can imagine us falling foul of it and lying there all night with broken limbs! Someone was perhaps watching over us.
Blundering our way through the dark it seems we miss a lot of points of interest that perhaps one day we can revisit by daylight. The old church and remains of the stable block could well be worth a visit. At night time they largely represent places where modern-day highwaymen (muggers) might lurk.
The most threatening structure though is the well lit subway under the M4. Being a responsible sort of bloke I instruct Betty to let me go on ahead through this floodlit expanse. If I find anything threatening at the far end I will sprint back and she is to ring 999. Being the sort of person she is, she spends the whole time whistling at me as I cautiously approach the darkness beyond the subway. The coast clear, I signal her that it is safe. You can’t help but feel a total dip when you are overcautious on occasions like this and realise afterwards that the danger was probably none-existent. As a child I never had any fear of night walking, so why are we so fearful of it nowadays? The major problem has to be the constant barrage of horrific acts that we are subjected to by the media. The loss for ourselves and our children has to be the wonderful experience of being out in a totally different world from our normal daylight one.
Our senses still heightened we continue our walk through Dog Kennel Covert, with the roar of the M4 disappearing as we do so. Ahead we can see the lights of Hayes beckoning us to our journey’s end. Out in the full glare of street lights we have no trouble finding our way onto the A312. As we top the large flyover crossing the Grand Union Canal we turn left and follow the interminable ramp down to canal level. As a former narrowboat owner I would love to turn left here and explore the legendary Bull’s Bridge but the time does not seem right.
Across the canal, huddled under the cover of the flyover we can see some thirty or so sleeping bags, resembling the cocoons of some alien invader. Yes my imagination is still affected by those old black and white alien movies I watched as a child! The realisation that the canal side here is frequented by ‘down and outs’ is a little un-nerving. Doubtless these unfortunates are perfectly harmless, but like our fear of the dark, our fear of people whose lifestyle is different from ourselves triggers the flight response in us.
The tow path to Hayes is probably the fastest walked of any section of Loop we have thus far travelled. A cyclist approaches and we pull in close to the wall as he passes. Next a shadowy figure approaches on foot. Other than his silhouette against the Nestlé factory lights, the only detail we can make out is a faint red glow from a cigarette, as he approaches. Once again we make ourselves look as big as possible and pass him on the right, so that if he tries anything funny we can push him into the canal.
Finally, our night-time ordeal over, we make the sanctuary of Station Road and repair to the Old Crown pub. The sign on the pub door says Merry Christmas and welcomes all visitors, but the atmosphere inside is rather sombre as we order our drinks. Perhaps they had a difficult Christmas. I wonder how many of the pub’s clientele might be muggers, murderers and thieves. Then a pleasant old gentleman comes in off the street and passes the time of day with us and all of a sudden the place takes on a warmer feel. It just goes to show how first impressions can be wrong and that there is no good reason why we should think this area is any more dangerous after dark than any other.
Still, I suspect we will do the remaining 30 miles of Loop by daylight.