Day four - Twickenham to Brentford

This is the day of the discontinuity. We start at Twickenham. On the north bank, there is very little public access between Kingston Bridge and Twickenham, and the walk would just be along ordinary roads, lined with fine and valuable property, but ordinary nevertheless.  That does not mean we will omit that stretch from this tour, it just means we need to fix up arrangements with some of those very kind people who have offered their boats.  Water borne blog may appear without warning later on. There are some other parts which have been omitted as well, but we will get back to them, too.

So, in the midday heat at Twickenham, rain is forecast, but it does not look faintly like it. I look at some early work by TLS, railings, paving and planting. It is starting to look a bit battered, but still stylish. Good design, like good tailoring, retains appeal even after hard wear. Poor design starts to look dated after the first shower of rain. The famous Eel Pie Island is opposite us. How I regret not going there in the good old days. Back then we would never have thought of it as a suitable place for TLS to install a sand martin bank. That would not have seemed to go with Rock ‘n’ Roll and the other two things. Times change and sand martin bank is well used, a great TLS achievement.

York House gardens stretch down to the river, and bridge the lane called Riverside. It is exercise in democracy, the doughty 17^th century burghers of Twickenham having foiled an attempt by the landowner to extinguish their right of way. Just as well since York House is now the home of Richmond Council, whose protection of democratic freedoms is justly renowned. The view downstream from the river edge of the gardens is another of the many that leave one gasping for superlatives. I have seen a few views on this trek, all with individual features, and I am still amazed. The great cedars and the balustrades along the walk give it an Italian feel, like the great gardens of Lake Como. Before we move on towards Orleans House, I am inveigled to “Step just this way to see some naked ladies.” It seems out of character, late night Beirut maybe, but not early afternoon Twickenham. But there they are, disporting themselves on a vast fountain in a grove of trees, in all their Belle Époque daintiness, a dozen nymphs in white Italian stone. They were, it seems, snapped up by the then owner of York House from a passing bargeman, who had learnt that his customer was bankrupt and would not be able to pay him. They may not be great art but they are great surprise, and well sited, and very much of a piece with the riverside walk. Their restoration, I learn, is another TLS success story. It would be wonderful to have the fountain working, something I can look into.

We pass the house once inhabited by Mr Twining, (it looks as though it must always be tea-time in there) and come to a favourite pub, the White Swan. It is tucked away in this completely rural setting with the river in front of it. It is hard to pass by on a day when a pint would go down so well, but if I stop now I will not get much further. Heartened by this demonstration of my strength of will, I press on to the Orleans House Gallery. It is hard to believe this is a survival of a grand house demolished for the gravel underneath. In the gardens I meet Joy Lee one of TLS most hard-working and effective volunteers, to whom we owe the gardens surrounding the gallery. So much is done by volunteers, we do not give them the recognition they deserve.

We press on to the reach in front of Marble Hill House, once a battleground for TLS, trying to open up the view. So many people confuse removal of self-seeded sycamores with clear felling a rain-forest. It is not generally known how fast a riverside tree grows, and just how rampant some invasive species can be, strangling others that we actually want.  The cry went up, “These trees have been here for hundreds of years!” Well, the embankment was built in 1937, no trees pre-date it except the monster Black Walnut in the grounds of Marble Hill House. As is often the case, when the work is done there is widespread praise for the results. There was little said about the greatest innovation by TLS, the cutting edge bat-friendly lighting along the path. It is carefully engineered to light only the path, not the vegetation at the water’s edge where bats hunt for insects. There is a system of sensors which cause only a section of the path to be illuminated for pedestrians. It all works well and is much admired, although there are, as yet, few imitators. TLS got a good grant towards the capital cost, not many can afford the full price. So in this important respect TLS is cutting edge, and taking forward urban conservation. 

Through the arch of Richmond Bridge, swinging lonely on her mooring is Jubilant.  Since Gloriana was launched, poor Jubilant, the first modern reproduction of a ceremonial barge, and seen everywhere, has been little regarded.  We must encourage her use, so that she is kept in good shape. It would be grand to keep her in a boat house over winter.

The TLS work around the half-lock needs revisiting. Maybe there is a case for revisiting the maintenance plan with LBRuT. Around this area we really do need to be firm about tree control. The old meridian markers are of little interest if one cannot see how they line up with old observatory. We are standing here at low tide, so there is very little water downstream of the half-lock. It is hard to believe that sea going ships came up here to calibrate their chronometers. What tiny craft did long sea voyages back then.

Going along Duck’s Walk I wonder why it is not called Duck’s Waddle. It would make more sense. Some ducks run, but none walk. 

It is a great surprise to find a plaque commemorating Commander Lightoller, of Titanic fame. He certainly was in the centre of events, a life full of incident. We pass some interesting large new houses built in a 19^th century villa style, and looking very much the part. It is a triumph of planning. All too often riverside sites  have a mass of tiny dwellings crammed onto them, all jostling for the river views which increase the price, and bristling with tiny balconies to meet amenity space requirements. It is not a recipe for the grace and elegance which a riverside setting needs.  Lord Kilmorey does not seem to have cared about grace and elegance in a riverside setting. In 1868, he refaced Gordon House, a building originally by Robert Adam, so that it now looks like a Victorian workhouse. Apparently he left the interior intact, and a fine mausoleum, but we press on, and do not stop to see them. 

Crossing the Crane we are in my own borough for the first time on this walk, and we pass by a place with great associations for me, Nazareth House where my mother lived in her retirement, and received brilliant care from the nuns and their staff, until its closure in 1998 as a result of care home regulation changes. Sadly the nuns’ plans for the site have been upset by the credit crisis. They have not been able to find a partner to take their plans forward. The planning permission included public riverside access through the site, which will be a beautiful addition. In the meantime we follow the edge of the grounds, and under the shade of planes planted by TLS, softening the edge of what would otherwise be a somewhat bleak Council estate. 

My companions being on the point of collapse from heat, thirst and hunger, I allow a short break at the Town Wharf pub. I am always reluctant to stop, because of the difficulty of starting again. I think back to my time in the army when the blisters would really hurt after a short halt, best to keep going and keep them numb.

We do manage to overcome the pain and start walking again, immediately crossing another tributary, the Duke of Northumberland’s river. Old Isleworth is charming in the sun. We pass Richard Reynolds House, and I am able to tell the story of his martyrdom in the Dissolution of the Monasteries, and his later canonisation. Not many London Boroughs have their own saint, yet another distinction of Hounslow’s.

We meet, at the gates of Syon, Christopher Martin, Head Gardener, and Stephany Heaven, assistant gardener, who are going to show us some river-related parts of the estate which are not open to the public. It is quite exciting to be going off-piste, especially as we are looking at the areas where there is natural bank, grazed by cattle as it has been for centuries. After we cross the haha we soon find water underfoot, and progress is slippery and slow, with deep gullies and fallen wood tangled with the vegetation. It is a constant battle to keep the scrub growth at bay. The whole area would become a forest if left unmanaged. The grassland habitat is far too valuable to allow that to happen, and the cherished views across to Kew must be kept open. We discuss TLS volunteers helping with willow control. It is hard and dirty work, sloshing around in the tangled morass, just what volunteers like. It seems that we have a date for September. Syon have been solid supporters of TLS from the very start, we have done much together, and look forward to much more. It is very pleasant among the trees, down near the water, cooler than it has been all day. We are on the lookout for otters which are seen around here, but the noise of five of us blundering splashily about might give an otter a bit of clue to stay hidden.

Stephany takes us into the house to look, from higher up, at the views we have been discussing down by the river. As we go up the stairs we look at paintings and prints of the way the estate looked over the recent centuries. This is the way to see a great house, to be on a mission about one particular aspect. There is always too much to take in if one is trying to see everything. With it being a small world I meet an old friend who is a volunteer guide in the house. He insists we must see some craftsmen in the process of making moulds from some of the antique statues to cast some replicas for an exhibition. It is somewhat tangential to our main purpose, but how often does one get the chance to see sculptural mould-making. Not often, I would say. Like any distraction it is fascinating. Seeing the chaps hard at work, with the obvious confidence of someone who has done much work of this kind where skill and flair play such a part, makes me envy them their talent.

Heading for the corner of the grounds where TLS will be working with the borough of Hounslow (to develop new access to link with a Kew crossing) we see strange trees and plants, but best of all our way lies through a grove of mulberries. This is the season for mulberries, and I love a ripe mulberry, right off the tree. Soon we are all excitedly searching and scoffing. I note with alarm the juice has spotted my shirt. It can be hard to wash out, but it will be a badge of pride. Who would not be glad to show of stains of mulberries from a great nobleman’s estate, gathered on a beautiful summer’s day?

Stepping onto Brentford High Street is like waking from a dream. Seldom in life does one have such an abrupt transition, we are back in hot humid noisy real life. All the senses are affected at once. The access we plan is going to take some serious detailed work, and the worst difficulty of any of our projects, discussions with many landowners, and getting all to agree.

Within minutes we are by the boat repair yard, a contrast in almost every way to the delicate natural surroundings we have just left. What they have in common is that they are endangered, and likely to be squeezed out by “progress” if not protected. Jake Oliver, the proprietor, explains some of the difficulties, and we assure him that it is TLS view that he is a vital part of the varied river landscape we want to enhance. Many buildings near his dock are ready for development, (i.e. falling down.) New users would be best to be running businesses as ruggedly industrial as his, so that they are not upset by the noise smells and deliveries of huge chunks of metal. Otherwise they will need buildings  with excellent barriers to those things. Boat repairing, in the grand scheme of industrial processes, is not an especially noisy operation, but we, in this part of London, have lost tolerance for such processes. It is a link with the community’s maritime past, and involves Brentford in the life of the river.

Around the corner, looking at Point Wharf, another current TLS project, we meet another of my council colleagues, Councillor Robert Oulds, the author. He has a fine apartment above Point Wharf with, lucky man, extensive views over Kew Gardens. He shows us one of the finest Black Poplar trees along the Thames, and we walk around to Brentford Creek where the public spirited freeholders of his block have turned an abandoned site into a butterfly sanctuary, and done an excellent job. It is the attitude that makes it possible to run TLS. There are people on our side.

From Waterman’s we look across to Lot’s Ait, the excellent new bridge and the buildings that look as though business is improving.  There is a lot to be dealt with in Brentford, but there are positive signs. Even Waterman’s Park is back on the agenda at LBH. So many more boats, many more much needed homes, could be here if we had a proper marina.

The end is in sight now. Our planned finish is the Express pub, by Kew Bridge, so we have a bit of spring in the step, with lure of strong drink. It has been a long day. It was a long four days, but I have learned a lot, and talked to many people, and got involved in the reality of things that were paper issues before. It has been a lot of fun, and I am rather proud of keeping going in rather tough conditions. As I order the drinks I point out to Jason and Becky the high points of our trip are illustrated on the walls of the pub in original oil paintings by local artist J.K Lewis, they were commissioned by the pub’s owner, Robert  Aldington. So any readers who fancy the sights but not the trip can do much of it in the comfort of the Express, and enjoy a fine pint.  

After a couple of drinks, and a long sit down, I find movement a bit of a struggle, so I take the train the one stop to my home, and am greeted by a dog in complete denial of her lameness from day 1.

Thank you for reading if you have got this far and watch out for the later additions.

Day three Teddington to Thames Ditton via Hampton Court

No more purple prose about the weather, now rather dull and humid. Teddington is very down to earth compared to the exotic, foreign air of Richmond in the bright light and searing heat a few days ago. The 281bus took me from the station to meet the others at Floating Cloud café, still missing Meg, my poor old dog. She is still limping, but eating well and cold nose.

It is a proud moment to be meeting where so many little boats gathered in 1940 for Dunkirk. The footbridge is familiar from the movie. I wonder what they felt, setting off across the Channel to the rescue. Apprehensive might be an understatement. 

Odd rain drops, thick humidity, distant rumbles of thunder, ominous start as we cross the bridge. The bike/buggy access is a fine piece of TLS work, and the much appreciated. If my term as chairman produces just one thing as practical, and attractive as this I will not have wasted my time.

A touching meeting with some local volunteers gathering wild flowers for the funeral of someone who has worked so hard on keeping Ham Lands attractive. It is sad to hear of her passing, but good to be able to add a tribute from TLS to the many tributes that will be paid. 

There are some temporary moorings opposite to upstream end of the lock. They are not much used because a little further upstream there is a collection of residential boats, many unlicensed. This stretch is not designated for residential mooring and is a cause of some controversy. It is strange that some, not all, people should add to their illegal occupation of moorings offensively unkempt appearance of boats, and untidy colonisation of bits of river bank. Good neighbourly behaviour would aid their case. We see many which, were they houses, would be subject to planning enforcement.

The legal matters around the illegal moorings are the subject of a discussion at the Hawker Centre with a local ward councillor, David Cunningham. We hear that Richmond have a new by law in course of adoption, and that he is concerned about the effects on the Kingston stretch when it is enforced. It is distressing to hear reports of more conventional residents being harassed by some from the illegal moorings.

An upside of the discussion is that we are under cover for a significant downpour, and emerge as it finishes. We inspect a hedge planted by TLS that has suffered from lack of watering, and talk about acquiring a portable pump.

The approach to Canbury Gardens is along as narrow and crowded stretch of path as any encountered so far, but it seems to work. We have to step aside for cars and bikes, but no one actually runs us down. Maybe living in Kingston teaches one tolerance.

Canbury Gardens has long been at the top of the agenda at TLS. Jason has devised schemes, and even had funding bids accepted, but we have yet to make a start. It is a park with a lot to offer, and much of it is excellent, but the edge of the Thames is eroding and shabby. The plans we will carry out when we get funding will give a new and much more natural bank, which will offer more to the many thriving boating groups along this reach. 

Much has been done along the link to Kingston Town Centre, a splendid new Sea Cadet building warms the heart. It does need to be an inviting and vibrant pedestrian route. It is not at the moment, but work is still in progress. Maybe the site of the boathouse where Jerome K Jerome hired his skiff for the trip that produced “Three Men in a Boat,” will eventually be marked. If the planned piazza beside John Lewis is successful that will help tremendously.

It is astonishing that John Lewis refuse to engage with the river, to the extent of blanking out their windows that overlook it and doors that open onto the riverside walk. It reminds one of Bill Shankly, who is supposed to have said that if Everton were playing at the end of his garden, he would draw the curtains.

Kingston Bridge is worth a longer study than we have got time for, stylish, though much extended and altered, and still retaining Georgian grace and elegance, and the view down river to Star & Garter atop Richmond Hill, the “fons et origo” of the arcadia project.

We head down the famous Barge Walk, our first venture north of the river.  The maintenance is of a very different standard, although the confusing overlap and interplay of agencies makes it hard to know quite who to praise. As we progress along this rural ride we are at times in the purview of Royal Parks, Historical Royal Palaces, Crown Estates, the Royal Household, with TLS, I like to think, as the glue that binds them. If not they work well together. The management of the vegetation shades almost imperceptibly as we travel. From the Urban formality of the Kingston end, we morph into the wild country of the mid-point, knowing that soon the style will be the majestic cadences of the palace surroundings. At mid-point we look at the truly great work done, by TLS, in the paddocks, to restore the flood plain. Reed beds are well re-established, and sluices and ditches functioning as they were in the times of the Knights Templar.  There is a lesson there for Dan Brown. We can see across to Seething Wells, perhaps the most difficult decision for Kingston, where to do nothing is not an option, but more of that when we re-cross.

The day is heating up well. There is much recourse to water bottles, and a longing for a rest at the palace. At the hottest time of day we find ourselves opposite Thames Ditton Island. It is so hard to believe, looking at the peaceful collection of beautifully appointed cottages, how close it all came to washing away in 2010, when the island was evacuated. Only the two upstream dwellings, which took the brunt of the inundation, were lost.

A glimpse of Hampton Court Bridge, and a gate on our left into the garden, show that we are close to halfway point. The King’s terrace, where William III could head for his croquet pavilion, viewing the Thames over the heads of his subjects, still commands a wonderful view and delightful prospect.

Yet nearer to the palace the park and playing fields of Thames Ditton are a shining example of what TLS can do to reprofile a bank, and do away with hideous shutter piling. Who could imagine that now looking at it. Cigarette Island, beyond the confluence of the Mole, has a similar, natural, profile, never having been shutter piled. What a great frame for a little river is made by island and park, striking symmetry, in the English landscape tradition. What a surprise to find they are not connected by bridge. It is even more of a surprise to find that residents long for a route to Hampton Court station. Their much longer road route is broken by a level crossing. 

Suddenly getting to the palace makes one conscious of the lack of a word in English as an antonym to warmth. That all embracing physical relief of the relief from heat and light of an ancient building. “Coolth” comes close, but it is not a real word. My friend and fellow Councillor, Sam Hearne, (whose day job is with HRP) is welcoming us to his office in what were once Grace and Favour apartments.  The purpose of the visit is to talk about TLS partnership work with HRP, but the comparative ease and comfort bring me close to nodding off. We float some ideas for TLS 20^th birthday celebrations, and head off across the bridge for the Elmbridge District Council village of Thames Ditton, much viewed from the Bargewalk. We pass the site of the “Jolly Boatman”, about which so much has been said and written, we do not need to go into it again. It does not look as though TLS will have much involvement with this important site. 

I had not realised what an interesting, historic place Thames Ditton was. It is worth another visit, when I am not so much concerned with the river. It was sad to see a wonderful stately home, apparently built for the Duke of Albany, boarded up and deteriorating, having ceased to be a care home. I do wonder at people who win the lottery. Don’t they realise what they can do with a few million on a property like that?

Our last visit of the day is the intriguingly named Seething Wells. As I said earlier, it is a very difficult decision for Kingston to make. On the one hand it is Metropolitan Open Land, and that should make it inviolate. On the other hand the habitat value will deteriorate if it is not managed. It was, previously, filter beds for Thames Water, and it has all the hazards and problems of post-industrial sites. To get to a solution which can pay for all the management the site needs for habitat value, and safety for public access, without having overdevelopment, will take finely nuanced planning.

In late afternoon, after a day full of interest and incident and charm, but horribly deficient in food I am dropped within sight of Kingston station, by the very kind Jill Green of the Residents Planning Alliance, (who, for the first time, made the issues of Seething Wells clear to me) for my journey home via Twickenham.  No one who has not attempted to get into that station could ever believe the difficulty. It must be in competition with the better known, though less frustrating, maze at Hampton Court. It would be interesting to have a time trial. Changing, eventually, at Twickenham I find a flapjack and some juice in the coffee-shop, so do not faint from hunger. The thought of attending a Council committee meeting gets me through. They are such inspirational occasions, and tomorrow is the last day of the trek. 

Day two - Richmond to Teddington

If anything, the weather was even more glorious that the first day.  Richmond had an exotic, foreign air in the bright light and searing heat as I walked from the station to meet companions at the Tide Tables café. How I regret saying on that first day that the pace would suit Meg, my poor old dog. The day almost finished her off, she has been limping ever since and the vet says no more long walks for a while, perhaps never. For a dog-owner without a dog, any walk is rather unsatisfactory. At least this time, with plenty to look at and talk about I would notice her absence less.

Tide Tables café is a good place to meet. I was introduced to Ann Sayer of the Teddington society and, beneath the shade of the enormous planes, we talked of what we were to see that day.

Setting off, with Jason and Becky, was like “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.” For a moment there was no breeze, and I was reminded of the North African desert, oven-like at half past ten. What was it going to be like at noon?

The first thing to catch our eye was Richmond landing stage. Extensive and well used by trip boats, but in need of TLC. Not all of it is in use currently, and some temporary mooring for private boats could be provided if the whole thing were given a makeover.  Temporary moorings are in very short supply on the tidal Thames, and there is always the worry that they will be squatted by homeless residential boats. A town centre mooring like Richmond landing stage would be very popular. Boat owners would think of Richmond as a destination, and be able to visit the town by water. Every point of interest on the river needs moorings so that leisure boating can extend to visiting places on the river, instead of sailing past unable to stop.

We passed sad little Gothic Garden, left out of the Arcadia project because the ancient rear wall, which supports the highway behind would have cost too much to repair.  There will come a time, when it is close to collapse, when we can seize the opportunity to restore this quaint little patch.

A much larger open space lies a little further upstream, within it two commemorative gardens. One, touchingly, in memory of a young woman killed nearby, the driver did not stop. The last photo in her camera, minutes before her death, was taken from this spot.  Her family helped design the planting with her favourite plants, and still visit.

Memories of the Three Pigeons pub come back as we pass the site, now occupied by mundane flats as a result of one of the longest ever planning battles.

We bravely decide to head up the famous Richmond Hill, so we duck under the Duke of Buccleuch’s famous arch. It is amazing that this classic folly is not a listed monument. It is made of a collection of bits and pieces collected from all over Europe, the capitals from Tewkesbury Abbey are especially interesting. It has recently been pointed by what looks like the correct lime putty, but cannot be. It is both cracking off and attacking the ancient statuary. Something must be done!

The formal gardens we emerge into from the tunnel glow like Persian carpet. The planted beds just blaze with colour under the bright sun. This is the heart of the landscape changes made by the Arcadia project and, later TLS, to restore the famous view from Richmond Hill. It is remarkable to look at what seems to have been here for ever, and hear how much was altered, and what distress was expressed at every proposal; distress which has largely turned to approval as the plans have matured.  The Enlightenment seems very close as we pace the walk along the top of the hill as our Georgian forbears would have done. I promise myself to bring a volume of Alexander Pope next time I visit here, and read it looking over a view he would have known so well. So many touches that seem to be part of the ancient fabric are in fact clever restoration. The cast iron posts with their pineapple finials for instance, all cast, by TLS, from one survivor.  The dichotomy of restoration is if you do it really well, no one can see what you did, and you are unappreciated. If people can see what you did, you have failed.

We follow a path down to the river, and pass an ugly loo building which survives the landscape restoration by popular request, there being so few loos. Those chaps in the thirties knew a thing or two. They could unerringly blot the landscape to maximum effect.

As we follow the river along the edge of Petersham meadows, (past the site of a cataract, I am intrigued to learn) we make notes to have the Council contractors reminded not to let the bank revert to a dock leaf monoculture. It is important habitat, and proper management is vital to many species of bird and insect.

The woods to our left also need attention, but a path leads to the locked gate looking into the corner of a composed and elegant classical garden. It is a wonderful contrast between the wild and the formal. We come to the lowest part of the footpath, and I am shown the damage the path sustains from flooding. Massive chunks of concrete have been shifted all over the place.  There are places it would be quite dangerous, because of potholes, to walk or cycle when the path is covered by water. 

The plan is to create creeks, and bridge them with low rise wooden bridges, (of the type commonly seen on the Upper Thames.) The rest of the path, (which will not flood) can be resurfaced with gravel. That this will be the pattern at many places between here and Teddington. The creeks will enable the use of the adjacent woods for the rare and wonderfully productive habitat known as “wet woods.” Small sections already exist near Ham House. Walkers traverse them on board walks, which is fun.

I had not walked this section since the trees screening Marble Hill house from the river has been removed. It was a brilliant sight across the water, just as the designer intended, four-square and perfectly proportioned, framed by ancient trees, another Enlightenment moment.

The café at Ham House was a haven of coolness. They were doing their duty by walkers, plenty of water points for rehydration. Never has their range of wines seemed more tempting, but I was only too aware of the distance still to go, and made do with ginger beer.

It was surprising that the lavender was not out in the wonderful cherry garden, although from some angles one got the impression it was only a matter of hours. (There were no cherries either.)

The magnificence of the House and its gardens mean that most people hardly notice the incomparable lime avenues. They are only a fragment of their original extent, but still yet another Enlightenment experience. The more so when I learn that Handel composed “Where E'er You Walk” among these very trees. Thanks to him, perhaps, a cool gale did seem to cool the glade.

An unattained objective of the Arcadia project was the restoration of the Great River Avenue. Standing outside the main entrance to Ham House, I began to see what an extraordinary concept this was, even at its 18^th century inception. Great worthies of the time, decided to link, by way of an avenue of trees, the Turner viewpoint on Richmond hill, and Radnor House in Twickenham. It was intended to be principally a visual link. As it crosses the river twice, without bridges, it could not have been a pedestrian route. Looking east from Ham House, one can just see the Star and Garter, but there is a whole lot of scrub and overgrown trees intervening. One can surmise that some trees were originally part of a grand plan. Turning west it is most intriguing. Over the years a number of attempts have been made to restore the avenue, but somehow the alignment has got out of kilter. The stretch at Ham House, (none of the trees very old, and some already distressed) is definitely out of sync with the next stretch which has become the driveway of the Rifle club, and completely off limits. Walking through the field between the river and the Rifle club, it is clear that the subsequent stretch could be linked to a new stretch through that field, and linked to those at Ham House. A lot of what was done on the Arcadia project has since been grown over, and the woods one enters after the “bottle” field are wild and unkempt indeed. Being remote and unmanaged they have become a focus for anti-social behaviour.  Nevertheless, an attempt to complete the restoration of a great, though eccentric, landscape feature does have an appeal. As we wander back to the river through meadows and glades it becomes apparent that much of this area, “Ham lands,” could by the use of creeks and hedge planting be returned to river meadows where stock could be run. It has a strange abandoned feel at the moment, huge grass growth but no stock proof barriers. It would be another wonderful project to bridge the low bits of towpath and create creeks into this area.

Heading on, up to Teddington, we hit upon a strange phenomenon. It is a good season for the white poplar. It is seeding by the bucket load. It produces seed that looks, and behaves, much like cotton wool. We find ourselves in a shady grove with a snowy white carpet and trees branches festooned like Christmas trees in white fluff. It is unnerving to find that, at 32 Centigrade, we are in Santa’s Grotto, and let me tell you, I know more than most about Santa’s Grotto.

At this point I begin to feel really glad we decided to finish at Teddington, instead of going on to Kingston.  The lock comes in sight, but it is, I remind myself, a notional rather that practical journey’s end. From the first sight of the lock to the bus stop is surprisingly long. I go for the 281 to Twickenham, where I can get the train back to Chiswick. Not only does the air-con on the bus not work, but is almost full of healthy teenagers returning from a vigorous sports day, still in their games kit. Humm-m. I overheard their conversation about climate change. “I like this kind of Global Warming better than the sort of Global Warming where it’s raining and cold.”

Could this be the Met Office let out? We are having the wrong kind of Global Warming.

Day one - Kew Bridge to Richmond

It was such a beautiful day, I felt churlish to be wondering if it was actually going to be too hot. The change of the route to end at Richmond on the first day instead of pressing on to Teddington Lock, caused me no distress whatever. You may think that it is an easy stroll, but doing it “site-visit” pace, slowly and stopping to look at things and make notes is actually more tiring than striding out at a good pace. At least the pace would suit my elderly dog.

As I waited for the others in the car-park by the Brentford Gate at Kew Gardens, I was slightly unnerved to see visitors to the gardens lathering on the factor 25, and checking their survival gear, like explorers of the Upper Nile. It took me back to a walk I did up the Kafue River, in Zambia. Only sun-cream whose smell did not alarm wild-life was permitted.

When Hilary Pickles of the Royal Thames Society, Ian Bruce of the Richmond Society and Dido Berkley of Thamesbank had joined Becky, Jason and me, we heard about the grand plans for that very car park. It was to be relocated and replaced by a showcase garden, but the visionary plan, widely applauded but not yet quite fully funded, is for a bridge to Brentford joining to the new access to Syon House. Visitors would be offered a ticket for both sites, although it would be a heroic effort to get around both in a day.

Heading along the towpath proper we pondered the growing threat of flooding. The flood wall finishes at that car park, upstream is unprotected. King George’s ha-ha ran along between us and Kew Gardens. The grade one listed brickwork was hardly visible among the wild greenery. If it is to be a part of flood amelioration, should it not be better kept? On the other hand, it would be shame to be too neat and tidy and lose all the charm of the wild. This is a theme which sounds through everything TLS does and in almost every part of the strategy area. It was a constant thought the whole of the walk, and, on balance on the Kew to Richmond stretch at least there was plenty of scope for what gardeners call a “good cutting back.”  Having known this part of the towpath for years I was saddened to find how very much growth was in between a pedestrian and the river. A horse could not tow a barge along very much of it, not that it should be the standard, but brambles six foot high completely hiding the river is too much. Local Authorities can be too sensitive to those who hate to see any tree cut. It is wonderful that people want to protect trees but along our walk we found features completely obscured and vistas blocked by uncontrolled growth. There is a worry about the right balance of habitat if previously open areas are choked and darkened. 

At least the marvellous spot between Kew Gardens and Syon House was wide open. It was just grand to be alive to see it on such a brilliant day. One could for a short moment put aside important considerations like the Water Framework Directive, and enjoy the view. Always learn something new. Repton designed the grounds of Syon and Kew Gardens to be all of a piece. Kew Gardens has been altered out of all recognition, but I will always treasure that nugget, and maybe win a pub quiz with it.

Beyond Kew Gardens the revetment is less steep, and lower. It is colonised by vegetation, which is destroying the concrete. The revetments on our side, and the hideous sheet piling at Brentford, being left behind the prospect is more pleasing. There is willow planted at the edge of the broken revetments to prevent further erosion, which is doing well, actually rather too well. In future it will have to be hazel, less rampant. The willow needs to be “spiled,” (cut and plaited into the remaining stems) to form a barrier, in the traditional way. We need to mobilise winter volunteers for this cold, muddy, tiring task. Strangely it is tasks like this that volunteers do come forward for. There is scope for volunteers to start hazel planting upstream.

The first of the meridian lines is shown by an elegant stainless steel marker, with a sighting gap, and the line itself marked in brick. Sadly trees have filled in the view. This is an area where the ha-ha no longer has a Georgian wall, but meanders about. It is ideal for a wet woodland project. Such a project could also keep the meridian sight line open. We must not let such important history get lost in the undergrowth.

We pause opposite Isleworth. It is about noon and the ringers are practicing on the church bells. It is a paradigm of Olde England. If only the proposed ferry was operating, the London Apprentice looks so welcoming, and the heat and all the talk are building up a thirst. So many ideas emerge for Isleworth, but that is for a later day. Today we focus on this bank. A tree, marked as if for removal, appears when we look to have a terrible parasite from which it will not recover. If it has to go we hope it will be quick. These things spread alarmingly fast.

The surface we have walked on has changed from smooth tarmac at Kew to gravel to rugged stones and as we are get to smooth tarmac again we meet Nicki Wood of the Richmond Society. The lumpy surface in the narrower stretches has the merit of slowing cyclists for the benefit of pedestrians and buggy pushers, but is a serious impediment to wheel-chairs. Wheel-chair users should be able to access all that we have seen, but would there be contention with speeding cyclists? There are proposals for a much wider path to accommodate a cycle super highway. It would change the environment drastically, and not be that super for cyclists. It is a long way around.

Approaching the half lock we find ourselves on a most elegant surface of resin-bonded gravel, legacy of the Arcadia project. Pity it is so expensive, it would look good in so many places. The boats negotiating the lock remind me that there has been nowhere on our walk to moor a boat. A shortage of temporary moorings reduces the use of the river for many, but concern about illegal residential mooring makes them a low priority for Councils. We do need more temporary moorings, and bye-laws to protect them.

Approaching Richmond itself we find ourselves among views familiar from prints and post cards, even table mats. The famous bridge, (especially viewed through the railway arch) is splendid in the way only a gem of classical of classical architecture, in glowing sunlight, can be.

We review past achievements of TLS along Cholmondeley Walk, and note where more needs to be done.  Entering Richmond this way, on a sunny busy day, has a feeling of leaving the country and getting to town that we seldom feel in these days of motorways and ring roads.  The stroll along in front of the Terry Farrell building, and the well-used terraces has a definite feeling of arrival. The shady garden, (another TLS achievement,) of the Tide Tables café is journey’s end for now. We are joined by Miranda Jaggers of the River Thames Boat Project, which connects with my involvement with children and disability, so this has been a day of more than average serendipity. I hope the following days provide as much.