London LOOP Section 21 – Havering-atte-Bower to Harold Wood – 29th December 2010
It is a couple of days before New Year and with my 16 year old son Wilber visiting us, we decide to introduce him to our new found hobby – Loop Walking. We leave a car at Harold Wood and then drive the other car to Havering-atte-Bower, where we park outside St John the Evangelist Church. This is on the site of the chapel that was attached to Havering Palace back in Tudor times. It is hard to imagine that one of the most opulent houses to be found during the reign of Henry VIII was on this site. Over the last 450 years or so all trace of it seems to have disappeared.
It is a cold foggy early afternoon and we have given ourselves about 2 hours to complete the 4.5 miles to Harold Wood Station. Having completed the two much longer previous sections, we think this should be a doddle. Far from it, as we are about to discover.
The start is pretty straight forward ie. Finding the Royal Oak pub. On finding the footpath sign opposite we make our way between houses and are immediately away from traffic noise and the easy navigation of public roads. For the next couple of miles we are at the mercy of the Loop directions, a pretty basic map and the vagaries of the waymarks that indicate the route on the ground. Generally one or the other seems to have worked on our previous walks, but the more open country stretches of the Loop can throw up hazards. As with hill walking, lowland walks across open fields can be problematic. This is especially so in the current foggy weather, with no landmarks to assist navigation.
The initial traversing of fields, footbridges and footpaths is not a problem. However, what is in the fields is. Horses. Large and very frisky ones. It is close to feeding time and one or two of the half dozen equine occupants of the field are galloping alarmingly up and down, making over-excited horse noises. I confess to a lack of empathy with horses. To me they are just too big and threatening, particularly when there is no one around to keep them in check. Betty is even more uncertain of them, so we opt for caution rather than valour and duck under the electric fence surrounding the field and attempt to find our way around the field edge. This is boggy, but just about manageable.
We find ourselves crossing another field boundary in our attempt to avoid these increasingly wild animals. Such is our desire to avoid them that we convince ourselves that any field is better than theirs and quickly run the risk of getting totally lost. Common sense prevails and we retrace our steps. Eventually we take the correct route, having successfully avoided the horses, although one particularly excited individual is still galloping about and whinnying wildly. We still have to negotiate a quagmire in our light walking boots, which would sensibly normally require Wellingtons. Nonetheless victory is ours and we continue unscathed by mud, electric fencing and mad horses. A sense of achievement prevails and we march on heads held high.
However, it is not long before our map reading abilities are severely challenged once again. The directions help us find an isolated tree in the middle of a field and very soon we are delighted to discover the last remnant of Tudor occupation of the site from 450 years earlier, ‘lost’ iron gate posts of the former Pyrgo House.
Iron gate posts of the former Pyrgo House.
Apparently Henry VIII visited his previously unwanted female heirs here and must have come to the conclusion that maybe they represented his best chance of continuing his genes. History it seems has been the beneficiary of whatever was in the water at the time, although more than a few Protestants and Catholics from in later years may differ in their opinions, having been the victims of both daughters’ bloody purges.
The remains of the gate-posts, despite being so minimal in their substance, have a real air of history and mystery, as they stand isolated at the edge of a 21st Century field, surrounded by the late December fog. However, mystery is what we feel as soon as we round the woodlands at the edge of this field and try to make sense of our course. The presence of still more horses and their serious poaching of the path we are supposed to follow, may play some small part in our confusion, but I’m inclined to believe inadequate directions also play their part.
What then ensues is three people marching backwards and forwards across the same field trying to make sense of the directions, the map and the absence of waymarkers. We try desperately to make the shape of the woodland on the map fit what we see on the ground. Unfortunately whilst woodland shape may be great for those navigating by airship, it is of little use to walkers on the ground. A good 20 minutes or more are wasted marching and map reading, map reading and marching to no avail. We are tempted to climb over a field boundary into a woodland. Once again common sense prevails and we return to a kissing gate we have crossed through several times, which unfortunately does not appear in the directions. The evening is now drawing in, as is the fog and with failing light, panic creeps into my mind. Will we see in the New Year on this retched ridge, unable to see the impressive views promised by the LOOP directions?
A very blury picture of the kissing gate
It is then that the next generation comes to the rescue. Wilber pulls out the shiny new cell phone he got for Christmas, connects to the Internet, pulls up a satellite photo of the area, with our position marked upon it and hey presto, our mental fog (if not the atmospheric variety) rolls away. Like rats or children following the pied piper, we let him lead the way. It feels a bit like cheating, but under the circumstances who cares? At least we have escaped from that God-forsaken ridge!
We eventually tumble over a stile onto the tarmac of the appropriately named Paternoster Row, ‘Our Fathers’ not far from my thoughts. Walking along this isolated road in the half light, fog swirling all around us, is a little worrying, especially when it stops suddenly at a large house at the end. A quick check of the directions confirms that we have indeed come the correct way and we find the stile in the hedge. This takes us along an odd sort of track apparently covered in bits of old tarmac. Perhaps it was dumped here when someone had their tennis court resurfaced? It seems people can dump all sorts of things on their own land in the countryside. This does seem at odds with country landowners who (rightly in my view) get upset when other people fly tip on their land. Ideally no one should be allowed to despoil our precious countryside, owner or otherwise.
Eventually we emerge onto Cummings Hall Lane adjacent to the Lake View (Retirement) Park with daylight all but gone. A short walk down the lane brings us out onto Noak Hill Road and the Bear pub. Resisting the urge to take refreshments we push on for a largely uninspiring walk through the Harold Hill estate.
The walk through Harold Hill reveals a total contrast with what we have encountered so far on the LOOP. We have been spoiled by walks through fields, woodland, golf courses and largely open country. Now we are regaled by the depressing surroundings of a mid 20th century housing estate. The serried ranks of identical houses, squashed up against each other, with areas of close mown amenity grassland is depressing to view. In post war Britain planners knew know better and the creation of these modern homes was doubtless a godsend to those bombed out of their homes in the East End. But in the more enlightened 21st century surely we can make some improvements?
The Harold Hill Estate does have some softer, more natural edges to it, especially if you venture further east to Dagnams Park, where this former country manorial estate still provides a home for fallow deer and where large areas of oak and hornbeam still exist. But the park in the centre of the estate, appropriately named Central Park, contains nothing but large areas of short mown amenity grassland. It is as though the local authority assumes that local people are only interested in areas of short grassland. Perhaps local councillors assume that is what their voters want? How do we get people to become aware of the joy of playing in long grass if there is none provided? If people demanded it then elected officials would probably provide it. Local authority officers, with hard pressed budgets, would do well to leave some areas unmown in order to save money. But it seems none of them – elected members, local residents, local government officers, has the imagination or wit to break this cycle ignorance and we are left with the monotony of Central Park.
The one saving grace in all this is the brook that runs through the park and eventually joins the River Ingrebourne. Water will continue to flow through this and provide a sparkle of nature for those children lucky enough to play in it. Even this is not guaranteed in our health and safety dominated world, where parents probably run scared of them drowning, catching Weil’s Disease or being abducted by strangers. For this reason it is no bad thing that we are exposed to the deprivation of suburban housing estates like this as we enjoy our rural rambles along the LOOP. Sections such as this are important to the painting of a complete picture of London’s suburban scenery. That said; give me getting lost in open countryside any day!
The scar of Harold Hill by electric street light behind us, we negotiate the A12 and the sanctuary of Harold Wood. We are now walking totally by street light, which reveals an area of mixed interwar and newer housing. I struggle to understand exactly what it is about Harold Wood that makes it better than Harold Hill. Harold Wood feels like it has grown slowly into what it is, whilst Harold Hill has just been dumped there. Put there by some so called all knowing individual and then largely ignored. I suspect those who live at Harold Hill have few aspirations to improve the aesthetics of their environment. Perhaps it is the history and free choices made by individuals moving to Harold Wood that makes it more attractive? LOOP walkers can make up their own minds.
A short walk through Harold Wood and we reach the station, where our car awaits to whisk us back to sunny Romford. A place not without its problems, but home nonetheless.