Capital Ring Day 1 (20 January 2007) - Part 1

North Woolwich to West Penge (“official” Ring sections 1, 2 and most of 3)

Distance: 16.1 miles, plus 0.4 miles of station links

Ascent: 294m

Wild species seen - I thought it’d be interesting to record this on what must be the most urban trail in the country. However, my ornithological knowledge lacks a certain something, so in the words of the late great Douglas Adams, the following list may contain much that is apocryphal or at least wildly inaccurate. It certainly omits many of the “little brown job” type birds that I simply couldn’t identify:
Blackbird, canada goose, coal tit, common gull, coot, cormorant, crow, fox, great tit, green ring-necked parakeets, herring gull, mallard, mute swan, pigeon, rabbit, squirrel, starling.

How hard is it to walk? Apart from foot fatigue caused by too much tarmac, not very. There’s a long flight of steps between Maryon and Maryon Wilson Parks and a steep, slippery climb up to Severdroog Castle. Parts of Oxleas Wood, Eltham Park and Beckenham Place Park were a little muddy.

Introduction

Before starting the walk, there were some apologies for absence. Mark’s never yet come walking with us, but at least offered a better excuse than washing his hair this time: “It's my girls' 6th birthday on Saturday, so we have all the fun of a pack of girls marauding all over the house (perhaps I'd do well to come on the walk after all!!).”

My father-in-law Dave had been feeling a bit unwell all week and didn’t feel up to the journey to the far side. Justin was a different matter. He spent the whole week offering up such feeble excuses as “it’ll be too cold”, “it’ll be too wet”, “it’ll be too far”, “you’re starting too early” and “I’ve got a birthday dinner that night”. The final one was especially feeble as his birthday had been 15 days before and he’d only invented the dinner after the 20th had been proposed as the date. His girlfriend Cathy, on the other hand, had ditched her earlier reticence and was well up for it – I think she’s caught the walking bug! We told them that if they weren’t at King George V station by 9.45am we’d start walking, and left them to fight it out amongst themselves.

The normal practice is to start the Ring south of the Thames in Woolwich, and complete the trail with a triumphal walk through the Woolwich Foot Tunnel. We, however, also wanted to go on the Woolwich Ferry. We therefore decided to start north of the Thames and arrive at the “start” of the Ring on the ferry, before completing it as normal through the tunnel.

The 15 sections of the Capital Ring are, to long-distance hikers, ridiculously short – ranging from 3.5 miles to 8.2 miles in length. They’re suitable for a Sunday stroll, but not suitable for people who have to pay to get into London each time. We therefore decided to tackle the trail 3 “official” sections at a time (about 16 miles a day) – given the preponderance of tarmac underfoot we felt that any more might leave us with no feet. However, on researching our first day’s walking, we discovered that the dinosaur sculpture park in Crystal Palace Park shut an hour before dusk. As we wanted to see this, we decided to cut today’s walk short by a mile or so and finish at West Penge, leaving the dinosaur park for the start of the next walk.

It had just been two days since the worst gales in 15 years, and we wondered if any parts of the trail would have been made impassable by falling trees.

(a) King George V station (North Woolwich) to the Thames Barrier

We woke at 6.15am to torrential rain, but this wasn’t about to stop me after 4 months without hiking. Jim and I parked at my parents-in-law’s house in Harrow Weald, and caught the tube across London. I must admit that one of my reasons for starting at North Woolwich was that we would then have to travel on the Docklands Light Railway, which is just brilliant – like some millionaire’s toy electric railway. The tiny trains weave a slow and erratic path through a mix of derelict industry and shiny new offices; an unusual church spire competes for attention with the huge Tate and Lyle syrup and sugar factory. There’s also a grand view of the London City Airport (possibly also a millionaire’s toy!) perched somewhat incongruously between two huge docks. The trains are driverless, but we failed to get the forward facing front seats where you can sit and make “choo choo” noises and generally pretend you’re 6 years old!

We arrived at King George V (all Docklands stations have wonderfully evocative names – Mudchute, Galleons Reach and East India, to name just a few!) earlier than expected at 9.20am to discover that we had both forgotten to bring our mobiles. We couldn’t ring Jus and Cat to find out whether they were coming. We therefore had to hang around the bitterly cold and facility-free station until the promised meeting time of 9.45am – fortunately the rain had stopped. Somewhat expectedly, they didn’t turn up, but it did give Jim time to practise taking photos of trains and the distant Canary Wharf and Millennium Dome on his new, huge SLR camera that he proposed heaving around the Ring.

By the time we were able to get underway, bitterly regretting the wasted 25 minutes, the sun was out and it was looking like it would be a cracking days walking. It was a short and easy stroll down a nondescript street to join the Ring on the banks of the Thames. We were just in time to see the ferry leaving. As it would be half an hour until the next ferry, we decided to change our plans, starting the Ring by going through the tunnel and finishing with a triumphal ferry crossing.

The tunnel entrance was in a distinctive round brick-built building near the ferry terminal. Inside was a lift door (the stairs were out of commission). We pressed the button to call the lift, expecting to receive your usual Otis steel box. However, after waiting an eternity for it to arrive, it turned out to be a hexagonal oak-panelled elevator with a lift attendant, invoking memories of 1912 (the year of construction). I suspect that back then, the lift attendants were uniformed and very polite to customers. Nowadays, they’re slouched in chairs with a large pile of newspapers by their side. It’s hard to blame them – it must be one of the dullest jobs in the world!

At 1,655 feet with the weight of the Thames bearing down on it, the tunnel itself is an impressive feat of engineering. This does not make it any less dull. Half a kilometre of gently sloping white tiles feels like a darn long way, and we were glad to leave by another posh lift on the south bank (strangely the lift shaft is much deeper on the north bank than the south).

We were momentarily disorientated as we emerged blinking into bright sunshine, but we were soon able to pick up the Thames Path signs. In fact, at this point it was officially the “Thames Barge Path”, a 10-mile long eastern extension of the official Thames Path National Trail. “Woah!”, I hear you cry. “Aren’t you meant to be walking the Capital Ring rather than the Thames Path?”. Well, yes we are, but for the first three miles the Ring runs along the Thames. As the tiny Capital Ring signs had been affixed to the much more prominent Thames Barge Path signs, it made sense to follow the larger signs for the time being (to be fair, the Ring did very occasionally get it’s own separate signs).

The path jinked away from the Thames at first, round the back of the ferry terminal buildings. You then join the noisy and polluted A206 – all in all not the most auspicious start to the walk. For a long time you’ve had to follow the main road for quite a distance whilst a large riverside apartment block was built. The easternmost flats are still under construction, and the route back to the river has not yet been signposted. However, it’s easy to get back to the river at the western end of the development (just before a small modern housing estate, which looks very out of place next to the new flats).

Now on the riverside promenade, things were much more pleasant, with excellent views of the Thames Barrier, Millennium Dome and Canary Wharf gradually growing as we headed west. Signs of Woolwich’s naval past were soon manifest in the form of two huge cannon mounted on the river bank, now for ornamental purposes only. We passed a few tiny docks, which were now used as an implausibly small angling venue. Below the docks, the Thames was at low tide, revealing mudflats on which a crowd of crows fought gulls for possession of a supermarket chicken, which was probably regretting its newfound freedom. Further out, a cormorant flapped lazily upriver. All in all, it was a surprisingly peaceful scene for London.

Further on a bizarre white sculpture helped the trail bridge a wall that formed part of London’s flood defences; the height reminded you how vulnerable our capital city is.
Soon afterwards, the riverside trail came to an end at a site awaiting transformation into more des-res apartments; we then had to take a “temporary” route winding through housing developments back to the A206. After a short stint of road walking the Capital Ring finally breaks away from the embrace of the Thames Barge Path, heading off into Maryon Park. We however, elected to briefly return to the Thames, as the engineer in Jim wanted to see the Thames Barrier at closer quarters.

A pleasant green strip had been planted down through an industrial estate. Despite only being 10 or 20 yards wide, the landscapers had managed to squeeze through three parallel paths running down to the Thames and yet still leave room for a small pond and a small stone assemblage of prehistoric demeanour.

The Thames Barrier is London’s primary flood defence and it’s an astonishing sight; a miracle of modern hydrological engineering. Each individual “pier” has the appearance of a ship seen through the brush of Picasso. Jim was in his element and ran off to snap dozens of photos of it. I, on the other had, was more interested in the official end of the Thames Barge Path and the start of the Thames Path National Trail (or vice versa depending on the direction of travel. An inscription above a long riverside shelter said it was 180 miles to the source; other nearby inscriptions showed that this path, just downstream of the barrier, had been under water in the not-so-distant past – good thing for London that the Barrier had been there then. I’d have liked to go to the Thames Barrier Visitor Centre, but we were a bit pushed for time; I would save it for when we walked the Thames Path at some point in the future!

(b) The Thames Barrier to Oxleas Meadows café

We returned to the Capital Ring via the same green strip that we’d used to walk down to the Barrier. This was the start of the Green Chain Walk, a spider’s-web of paths across south-east London. The Ring would follow part of the GCW for the rest of the day. The route’s green credentials were proved when to my astonishment we saw a fox ambling across the path ahead. Unfortunately by the time Jim had screwed together the components of his new camera, the fox had wandered off into the industrial estate.

Crossing the A206 we entered Maryon Park, and finally it felt like our walk around London was properly underway. We’d broken away from the Thames, and entered one of the defining landscape types of the Ring – the municipal park. This would have been a typical example – tennis courts, a welcome-if-filthy toilet block – if steep banks had not surrounded it, a legacy of the time when sand was extracted here. This gave the park a comfortingly secluded feel, especially as there was no one else there (Londoners had so far today been notable only by their absence). The rear banks of the park were dotted with snowdrops and eranthis, and weaving between them was a flight of steps that felt rather long after my 4-month lay-off.

Crossing a minor road, we entered another park, confusingly called Maryon Wilson Park. This looked more like a country estate than a municipal park; in fact it was actually once part of the Charlton House estate, along with several other parks in the area. We descended grassy slopes dotted with trees to pass between the compounds of what would elsewhere be described as a childrens' petting zoo. This one should perhaps have been called Guantanimal Bay, simply to reflect the height of the fences and the denseness of the wire mesh. I fear that this was to protect the animals from the public rather than the other way around. We couldn’t see a way in, but squinting through the tiny holes in the mesh of the right hand compound we could make out a small herd of (probably fallow) deer. The left-hand cage held sheep and a variety of unusual breeds of geese and ducks.

Beyond the compounds we stopped for a swift break on a bench overlooking the tiniest of streams. As we sat there, I noticed a strange, crescent-winged bird fly overhead with a long, slightly forked tail. A moment later another flew out in a flash of bright green. I quickly realised that we were seeing green ring-necked parakeets. The guide had said we might see these further on along the route; escaped domestic birds have been breeding fairly freely in London and it now hosts a population of some tens of thousands! It’s a truly bizarre sight seeing such brightly coloured plumage sitting in native British trees!

As we climbed gently through the remainder, more parakeets flitted overhead, and boy can they fly fast – they seemed more reminiscent of swallows than the annoyingly squawky birds you see in pet shops. There were also several trees down, a highly visible scar of the storms earlier in the week. The guide referred to this as a “pretty combe”. Residents of Devon might be able to show the author some real combes, but it was certainly pleasant.

It was a great shame to leave the beautiful Maryon Wilson Park and its parakeets; after that, Charlton Park came as something of a shock. We entered past an ugly grey building topped with razor wire to find a huge expanse of football pitches. Shouts, screams and swearing turned the air blue as the local 12-year olds (or “yahoos”, as Jim decided to call them, despite never having read Gulliver’s Travels) made full use of their once-weekly opportunity to kick each other legally. The only saving grace might have been Charlton House itself, down at the far end of the park. I’ve found several websites referring to it as “the finest Jacobean Mansion in London”. I don’t know what a Jacobean mansion should look like, but this was distinctly underwhelming.

We moved on quickly, following the trail as it circumnavigated the park, and then crossed a road into our forth park on the trot, Hornfair Park. Like Charlton Park this was full of football pitches; unlike Charlton Park they were completely deserted. What was wrong with these pitches? It gave the park something of an eerie feel, and we headed on without pausing, straight into Woolwich Common.

After four parks the Common had a vague undefined feel; a patch of urban scrubland that hadn’t been developed... yet. It’s one redeeming feature was reasonable views to the north-east, but again these were vague, undefined views with few recognisable features, and certainly not worth stopping for. We marched off the far side of the common, stopping for a brief look at the former Royal Military Academy on the far side (a nice building, but difficult to get a decent view of).

You might be thinking that with four parks on the trot followed by a common, this was a surprisingly green part of town – and you’d be right. However, our feet were not thinking this at all, for so far every inch of the Ring had been on tarmac paths or paving slabs – even going across the common. My feet were starting to protest a little at the injustice of it all. So it was a relief that the next green bit was not only tarmac-free, but in fact entirely off path! The Ring veers unexpectedly away from a busy crossroads across the lush grass of Eltham Common, before entering woods and ascending a steep (by Ring standards) and muddy (again by Ring standards) path. We had no trouble with it, but this was the only section of the Ring so far that was unsuitable for people of limited mobility.

At the top was Severdroog Castle, a tall, triangular, castle-like folly erected in honour of a British Commodore’s victory in India and now shamefully covered in graffiti by some brainless moron. This is the highest point on the whole Ring, but as it’s surrounded by woodland views are somewhat restricted; you can only see out to the south, and we could not recognise any particular landmarks. We descended through rose beds (I’m sure roses shouldn’t be flowering in January?!), and followed a winding path through woodland. Until now the Green Chain signage had been very comprehensive (the Ring signage was still taking a very minor second place), but there were a couple of turns here where we would have struggled without the guide.

We passed another rose garden with a stunning, but again sadly graffiti’d brick surround which I should probably refer to with a posh architectural term that I don’t know. Shortly afterwards we left the woods, and ascended through grassland with gentle but pleasing views southwards, to reach what the Guide referred to as an “Alpine Mountain Hut”. This was a somewhat grandiloquent epithet - it was in fact just your good ol’ Greasy Spoon café, but one which turned out to do rather excellent bacon, mushroom and cheese toasted paninis. The weather had been unremittingly sunny until now; whilst we were in the café there was a torrential downpour. If we hadn’t have waited for Jus and Cat, we may have been caught out in this storm, so we felt quite grateful to them! ... Continued