Capital Ring Walk: Greenford to Preston Road

Posted on November 2, 2020 by TheJessicaness

This morning isn’t as calming to wake up to and a bit emotional, as Caleb has an appointment at the Bahrain Specialist Hospital after being seen at medical. I’m assuming he’ll be fine once they adjust his thyroid medication. The corpsman (enlisted member of the ship’s medical unit) was concerned and had Caleb sent out for another opinion. Having to wait to learn more, I can go about my day.

I’m outside at 7 am and feel better after saying hi to two people and a puppy. The cafe has no hot egg sandwiches left, so I settle for an egg mayo sandwich and jog across the street to catch the bus. I get dropped off at Bond St. after a twenty-minute traffic delay. This will allow me some walking before my next ride. Every day is an adventure, as my route is never the same.

I pass by a horse sculpture that has been provided for visual enjoyment by the local community and not for climbing. The Queen unveiled this bronze worker in 1985, one of the many animal statues made by Judith Bluck throughout London. My starting commute only took two hours. It turns out I was going the right way yesterday and thought I went to the wrong Lidl (German grocery store), but the path runs along the shopping plaza, so I skipped part of Section 8.

I enter Horsenden Hill, and the path will take me about halfway through the park, going east, then north, and back west a bit before exiting the park and going north again. This route will have me passing fields along the river and then walking through grazing meadows and woods intermittently. I enjoy the sound of the little black birds with white foreheads and beaks (Eurasian coot) that they clap together, going down the river.

Horsenden Hill has flint tools and arrowheads that date back 7,000 years ago, when Stone Age nomads were passing through. Iron Age people settled here 2,500 years ago and left behind large amounts of pottery. The Anglo-Saxons cleared the forests to create fields that, in the Middle Ages, would be growing wheat, rye, barley, and corn. In 1801, the canal enabled hay to be shipped to London, and manure returned to the hill. This encouraged new factories and faster trade with the Midlands. As I’m nearing the park exit, I’m graced with the iridescent blue of a yellow-billed magpie.

Near the Sudbury Hill underground station, an ambulance gave me disposable gloves so that I could move a shaking and bloody-nosed rat to the grass. I hope his life works out, but if not, he’s out of the way. I stop for a plate of dal, cauliflower, eggplant, spinach, and paneer on rice (instead of with paratha) for $5, the best deal in London. On West St. in Harrow is a fountain that replaced a well and that was donated in 1880 by Thomas Hudson, a local businessman.

Harrow has some beautiful buildings, and I will admire their church and university before taking The Ducker Footpath to Northwick Park. I stop at a shop for coconut water and some limited-edition candies near The Windermere. There’s a sticker nearby that says Film Only. (@harryfconway, if you’re interested in mostly old men with tattoos, not all of them are agreeable). I make it to Preston Road station before the blue sky turns gray and presents a double rainbow. It starts to sprinkle, and though I was hoping to meet Daniel, the local Jamaican, I’m glad for a dry ride back.

The trains are smooth but screechy, and not sure where I saw the book, but I wrote down the title, Dark Side of the Mind, to look into later. It’s written by a forensic psychologist in an attempt to understand the brutal actions of convicts. I made a connection in Brent, the Borough of Cultures, in 2020, a program that celebrates their unique character, people, and heritage. Waltham Forest won the first year, and the school and volunteer involvement with employment opportunities has increased the creative economy of London for locals and tourists.

The initiative has led to other programs being established to increase public space for free events and artist residencies and to revitalize the high streets (central retail thoroughfare) after dark. I’ll grab a pita stuffed with sweet potato falafel and halloumi for the walk home. Caleb’s appointment was supposed to be three hours ago, and he’ll call me after his medical adventure to tell me that the doctor thinks he had a micro-seizure.

Caleb hangs up with me after I mention Sparky, calls his chief engineer, and then calls me back. I don’t want to get into the research of this condition until we get a second opinion, and we would give Caleb the anti-seizure medication that we didn’t offer our dog. I still miss both of them so much. Dad and Caroline are worried that riots will soon start here as they have in other European countries faced with another lockdown. I will take each day as it comes.

Update: It will take Caleb getting stationed at Balboa Hospital in San Diego for six months before the doctors realize that he was just tired from being overly motivated (even though he didn’t make Master Chief). One doctor read his chart upside down or backward and ordered a sleep study with sleep and no sleep and couldn’t decide on the results. It was a messy time, and we hoped to go back overseas, but some things aren’t meant to be.

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The Long Way to Richmond Park

Posted on November 1, 2020 by TheJessicaness

I enjoy talking with Caleb after waking from a nice dream. I walk about a half mile for breakfast and pass a guy, with two dogs, who seems to be giggling at all the happy people… for a few more days, at least before the city of London returns to lockdown. I’ll take the bus to South Ealing (a limited connections station) and a mile from my next stop. I get back on the bus, and I get off at the Ealing/Christchurch stop, as it’s only one away from the one I need, Ealing Broadway.

This puts me on the path of the Christ the Saviour Church. I go in quietly, as I usually do, but there’s a service in session, and I won’t interrupt it by trying to capture the pointed arches and painted angels. There’s a market across the street selling pasta and pies. I’m debating where I want to walk today as transit stations are closing, and more people are wearing masks as they queue up in packs to go shopping. I take the bus to Greenford, where I left the Capital Ring Walk yesterday.

I plan on starting Section 9, which will take me to South Kenton, over five miles away. After having walked 15 minutes in the wrong direction, I find myself back at the station on my way to meet Radu, the local Romanian, at Richmond Station. The distance covered on foot will be about the same, and I would have to spend just a few more minutes on public transit if I had walked another section or two today. The bus I’m on has a broken stopping alarm, and the driver seems to be trying to reset it by opening and closing the doors.

Once at Richmond Station, I got a turmeric flat white coffee and a lavender-sugar pretzel from Olaf at Knot, an artisan shop specializing in caffeine and twisted bread. We’ll stop at Tide Tables Cafe and walk along the River Thames to Terrace Gardens. From there, we walk on Queen’s Road through Richmond Park, over two miles, and see plenty of deer on the other side of the street. We’ll part ways at a bus stop so Radu can start his journey home, and I can be back by dark with an eight-minute walk.

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Halloween in London

Posted on October 31, 2020 by TheJessicaness

Pret A Manger, meaning ready to eat in French, is a popular sandwich shop with over 300 locations in London. One of them happens to be close to the rail station and bus stop in Kingston, but it isn’t open on weekends. The shop next to it doesn’t open for hours, so I’ll take the bus to Richmond to start Section 7 of the Capital Ring Walk.

Once on the bus, this lady grunts and points her head at the “don’t sit here (in Covid’s seat)” sign. I tell her I see it and will move at the next stop as I try to maintain distance with limited availability. I’m glad I was able to move upstairs and enjoy the much better view from the giant windshield. I’ll try half a toastie, British for inside-out grilled cheese, and gift the pre-cut, untouched other half to an urban camper as I wash the dairy down with a honeycomb cold brew.

I find myself back in Richmond Green, with a field that was used for jousting and now only supports approved cricket matches. I’ll take Cholmondeley Walk along the Thames and watch the scullers row on the smallest boat on the water, costing in range from $1,500 to $15,000 for the shell, and propelling themselves forward at a maximum speed of 13mph with oars the length of the boat. Had I seen a sign for rentals, it’s something I could’ve tried, but I’m definitely over-dressed.

Old Deer Park’s history begins in the 14th to 16th centuries with the informal battle of The Charterhouse between being a monastery for the monks and a residence for the queens. The 17th and 18th centuries saw the land used for hunting, farming, gardens, and the building of an observatory. The 19th century developed cricket, rugby, and golf clubs and held the BBC’s first outside broadcast for the Horse Show, which ran for 30 years. The 20th century saw part of the park be absorbed into Kew Gardens and public tea rooms converted into private swimming baths. I wonder what the 21st century will do.

I’ll walk over the Duke of Northumberland’s River that was cut by the monks of Syon to power their flour mill and provide fresh water. On my right is the London Apprentice pub, still standing again from the Tudor period, having been rebuilt in the 18th century, and aptly named, where the tradition remains for new journeymen, upon receipt of their indentures, to celebrate with the master craftsmen on their achievements.

Syon Park, so named for an abbey in 1426, is now the 200-acre residence of the castle-esque Syon House, meaning followed by good luck, that has remained in the Percy family since 1604. There are some cows, beef on legs, in the field and great tits, passerine birds, in the trees. I’ll stop for eggs Florentine with lemon hollandaise and a ginger spinach smoothie from Birdie’s Kitchen. The tables are empty, their card system not working, and one of their toilets is out of action, but the food is good.

There’s a historical marker near Brentford Bridge letting those who pass know that in 1642, just part of the First English Civil War took place here. It was supposed to be a quick battle between the Royalists and Parliamentarians but ended up lasting four years, and of the quarter of the English men population that fought, about one in 25 of them would also die. I passed a car with three parking tickets, each one in its own plastic bag, and the last one was written yesterday.

Another sign labels this area as the ‘gauging locks’ where thousands of narrowboats and barges have passed through on a four-day route and were charged a toll according to how much cargo they were carrying (by weight). The clerk would use a rod to measure how high out of the water the boat was sitting to assess the fee. The rain starts to come down again as I walk along the River Brent. I pull my hood up and zip my jacket. I’m used to being wet at this point.

British Waterways partnered with GSK House in 2001 to protect the Grand Union Canal and reduce CO2 emissions. There is a waterfall on the river bank that is used to return water back to the canal after it’s used to cool the air conditioning system of a waterside business. The income this initiative generates is used to maintain the nation’s rivers and canals. This canal was completed in 1805 as the Grand Junction Canal and gained its current name in a 1929 merger with other waterways.

The canal was used heavily until trains came into popular use, and again in WWII to supply coal and weapons. Trade declined even more in the 1950s when new roads took more cargo. The canal froze in 1962 for three months, and its commercial use came to an end in the 70s. Many families were raised on boats and slept and ate in a space of 65 sq. ft. (about one-and-a-half king-size beds). Since child labor was needed, many kids didn’t attend school. Today, the canal is a place for birds, fish, people, boats, and bikes to rest, hunt, and move along.

Gallows Bridge, built in 1820, possibly got its name from a man hanged in the nearby woods in the 17th century. I will use it to cross to the other side of the river and continue my walk along the Capital Ring. Though I am distracted by the unique houseboats, I must keep an eye on the pot-holed walkway as I make my way by Brent Meadow Orchard, which was planted in 2017. The trees are numbered, and there’s a chart noting when the fruit (apples, berries, pears, etc.) should be picked.

The rest of the meadow is overlooked by the Wharncliffe Viaduct, built in 1836. As rail travel increased, the viaduct was widened forty years later. Rumor has it that Queen Victoria would have her steam train stopped to admire the view. Now, pipistrelle bats hibernate through the winter in the hollow brick pillars. A mile and a half further, I’m picking blackberries to eat near Bittern’s Field. I finished Section 8, stopping in Greenford, a farming parish in the 19th century with one factory where William Perkin made a synthetic dye, mauveine, in 1857.

I grab some food from the bakery baskets and get on the bus. I’m hoping to be semi-dry when I get back to the house. I’ll shower and relax for an hour. I leave my soaking wet coat behind and wear a woolie and sweater in its place as I walk to the bus station on Cromwell Rd. since the Kingston Transit Station is closed this weekend. Some people are in costumes on their way out for the evening, while most are still in their black and grey, returning home from a day in the office.

I’ll meet Radu at the station and walk to Brixton Village, passing a wig shop, produce stand, and fabric booth. There are many stalls behind rolled-up metal doors selling boxes and bags full of goods that spill out towards the street, enticing the passerby to have a look inside. We grab a slice of pizza and continue walking. Brixton is the melting pot of South London with an African-Caribbean soul were music, arts, culture, and food mix.

We’ll grab a sweet treat and a bubble tea as we make our way across the River Thames to a shop on Oxford St. Selfridges is a ridiculously expensive store, with the clothes I looked at costing at least $900, but it’s free to walk through and admire the design and layout, the floor piano, and the styles deemed fashionable. We buy more sweets from M&S to fuel our walk by Hyde Park and across SOHO. We’re back on the underground after 10pm and go our separate ways after Radu lets me know that England will be going on lockdown at midnight on Thursday, just hours after my plane is due to take off.



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Capital Ring Walk: Wimbledon Park to Richmond Bridge

Posted on October 30, 2020 by TheJessicaness

I step into the shower and wait for the cumulation of moisture in my hair from the drizzle falling ever so rythymically from the British underground through this overwhelmed shower head onto my cold body as I debate just how clean the outside demand I be. I get out and choose next to air dry because the towel appears to have been used to clean up after a hair massacre of sorts.

There’s an entitled girl on the train who makes me think of another braggart I got to overhear in Hawaii. They seem more proud of their daddy’s jobs and where it gets them than grateful for the places they get to go and the people they might be lucky to meet. This one makes sure I know that she has walked through Europe and that she’s impatient to get to London because only the giant landmarks will do.

Or perhaps she’s just quoting the works of a traveling poet and failing to get her mom’s attention. I’m ok sitting here and imagining a moment in my childhood when I get to meet her seemingly cool grandpa, with a less firm hand on discipline than my mother’s dad had for his grandchildren. It’s not the train that’s boring, it’s the people who are bored, and both provide entertainment to me.

The South Western Railway stops at Wimbledon, not Wimbledon Park, which the District Line could’ve connected me to but I decided to walk the two kilometers to the start of Section Six. This now famous park got its landscaped beginnings in 1765 to improve the view from the Earl’s mansion. The railway cut across the valley in 1889 and Wimbledon Corp. bought the space between the lake and the train in 1915 to preserve the land.

It wasn’t until 1926 that they would have the funds to build putting and bowling greens, and tennis courts. There’s now a heritage trail with 12 stops around the perimeter of the park highlighting the historic changes of the beautiful views, St Mary’s Church, the Artesian Well, and Lawn Tennis Museum. I’ll stay to the right of the lake and watch ages toddlers to teenagers learn to wield a racket.

I heard part of a conversation: grandma, “Stop walking like that.” The boy was dragging his feet. His response, “What you’re saying is, stop walking like yourself!” I’d have told him he can walk however he wants when he buys his own shoes. The Wimbledon Windmill, built in 1817, is the last hollow post mill in the country. Its body, filled with machinery, is mounted on a single post that’s able to be rotated.

Passing the Wimbledon Common, an area that dates back to the Stone Age, and now I’m told to look left for Golf in Play. England, as are other parts of the world, are still learning how to allow humans to live with nature, not dominate and destroy it. The Beverley Brook was too straight to provide fish a refuge, too wide causing build up of sediment, too dark to support plant growth, and didn’t have enough wood to provide habitat for invertebrates.

Richmond Park is London’s largest royal park, at 2,500 acres, and Europe’s largest urban park. It is a national nature reserve, but for 12 weeks out of the year, starting in November and February, the park is closed overnight so that firearms may be used to cull the deer population. I’m in luck that the only things falling and flying through the air as I walk is raindrops and a flock of birds. I’m glad I’m not alone in the mist, and though the locals may be past the point of touristic appreciation for the weather, they don’t let it slow them in any way.

I got to watch a buck herd his doe and I reassured a couple that was his only intent when they thought he was going to run them down. It’s been a while since I could watch so many deer going on about their lives and this was the first time that I was joined with such a crowd of people doing the same thing. I leave that field in search of Henry’s Mound, named for the VIII as he waited for the execution of one wife to marry another.

Regardless of the legend, there’s a protected view, via telescope, of St Paul’s Cathedral that is 12 miles away and restricts any tall buildings from being built in-between that would obscure it. There’s a cafe nearby and I see people eating scones, so of course I got in line, only to have this old guy holding his tray into my back and pushing me closer to the father and daughter in front of me. Then he had the gumption to stand next to me at the til and stress out the cashier who, “wants to live and see his family.”

The old guy is asked to kindly step back and give me space to, safely, make my purchase and walk outside to find a place to eat it. This treat is a combination of the love of food I get from my parents, one loving anything with carbs and the other having sweet teeth. I’m grateful in this moment, as I am for most when I’m turning out better than my childhood intended, while watching the jackdaws make a mess of the stacked dishes left behind.

I’m distracted while on the phone with Caleb, nothing new there, and though I seem to have taken a detour I’m able to arrive at the correct intersection to continue to Petersham Meadows. A special character of cows, based on their ability to deal with crowds, has been selected to do conservation grazing from April to October and must have left early this year.

I got to walk under the road to reach Terrace Gardens. In the 1600s there were businesses and workers, the 1700s brought residential estates and gardens. The 1800s saw demolition and incorporation but the Richmond Vestry bought the land for public use in May 1887. In the 1900s another house was turned into a factory and the gardens extended. Between 2007-09, one million pound Sterling ($1.3M USD) was invested in paths, furniture, and replanting for conservation and biodiversity.

I’ll finish Section 6 and walk around Richmond Waterfront before meandering and finding myself at the Richmond Green. The sky is still bright grey, until it’s not. I’ll take the bus back as the sun is setting and save the energy from those four miles for tomorrow. I’ll stop for some hummus chips to go with my lentil soup. I return to my dingy room.

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Happy Landings

Posted on October 29, 2020 by TheJessicaness

I’m up earlier than usual to pack, wash dishes, and clean the room before leaving. I want to get my bags to Kingston where I’ll be staying for my next week in London and leave myself with plenty of daylight to continue on the Capital Ring Walk.

The 12 miles would take an hour by car for a more direct route, but I’m on the train that will go north to Clapham Junction before going southwest to Kingston upon Thames, and will also take an hour, if everything goes as planned — it does.

I find the place in the rain and it’s dirty. I take pictures of the bedroom and bathroom that are downstairs and send them in a report to Airbnb. It takes them 2.5 hours to tell me that they’ve contacted the host to remedy the situation.

Meanwhile, I’m at the shopping plaza near Zach’s place wondering if I’ll have to worry about finding another place to stay tonight and the awkwardness of dealing with a host who offered such an embarrassment in the first place.

Zach decides to clean since his cleaner didn’t yesterday. This shouldn’t have been something for me to deal with, and when I return to the room I’ll be asked to update Airbnb and tell them that there has been an improvement, but I don’t think he should rent like this in the future.

This has dampened my day more than the morning full of rain. I felt that Zach might feel judged and ask me not to stay or that if I decided to leave I wouldn’t be reimbursed and would have to pay more for a last minute place, so I decided to judge his cleaning skills later, knowing I’ve been in dirtier hotels.

After an afternoon along the river and amongst shop windows, I’ll ride to Waterloo to meet Radu for dinner as I still wait for my room to be cleaned. He notices that I like to take pictures, so we walk through Lower Marsh to The Vaults, a tunnel full of graffiti, till we see the London Eye lit up pink.

We get a cup of mulled wine to keep our hands warm as we walk the length of Southbank before settling on dinner at Ned’s Noodle Box or Ned’s Noodle Bar on Belvedere Rd if you’re looking on Google. I’m sure the food was fine but the company was better.

We continue our walk along the river before wandering inland for a night of darts and snooker with some other people at The Windmill Pub until the 10pm curfew is enforced.

We walk back along the Thames and part ways at Waterloo station after Radu has ensured I’m safely on my direct train with a ten-minute walk in my near future. I’m hesitant to return, but I do need sleep.

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