Capital Ring Day 4 (12 May 2007) - Part 1

South Kenton to Hackney Wick (“official” Ring sections 10 through 13)

Distance: 19.2 miles, plus 0.3 miles of station links
Ascent: 420m
Walkers: Anth & Jim, plus Dave for the second half

Wild species seen - blackbird, blue tit, canada goose, chaffinch, coal tit, common gull, coot, cormorant, crow, great tit, green ring-necked parakeet, magpie, mallard, moorhen, mute swan, pigeon, robin, sparrow, squirrel, tufted duck.

How hard is it to walk?
Barn Hill and Queen’s Wood contain path sections that people of limited mobility may find steep, and they look like they could be muddy at times. Apart from these short sections, the entire route is very easy, and the few steps can be easily avoided.

Introduction

The original plan for today, our penultimate day on the Capital Ring, had been to walk from South Kenton as far as Stoke Newington (the end of “official” section 12). However, I have a secret obsession – the feeling that one should link together one’s long distance paths. I therefore suggested that on finishing the Capital Ring we should walk out alongside the Thames to join the London LOOP at Erith. Jim wasn’t especially enamoured of the linking together idea. He only reluctantly agreed to it after I pointed out that by doing this we would also complete another named path – the “Thames Path South East Extension” – which we had walked the rest of on our first days on the LOOP and Ring.

The key to my plan would be to leave us with as little of the Ring to complete on the final day (thus giving us more time for the river walk). To do this, we would have to walk more of the Ring today – we would therefore extend our walk to Hackney Wick. This would put the pressure on, as we had to be back in High Wycombe in time for our Eurovision Picnic Party.

Jus and Cat had once again backed out on some feeble pretext. As usual Dave would be joining us to spur us on for the second half, but at 8am it was just Jim and I enjoying pre-perambulation saus-and-egg muffins in the Wealdstone branch of McDonalds. I had extreme difficulty going to the toilet until I realised that I had, in my early-morning befuddlement, put my boxers on back-to-front. I could have changed them around, but they were comfy enough and if I started to tire at least I could use my contrary pants as an excuse!

(a) South Kenton to Hendon Park

Access to the Ring was particularly easy this morning – South Kenton station was just a couple of stops down the Bakerloo Line, and the Ring ran in a subway beneath it. We strolled easily through the solicitude of early morning residential streets and across the small but pleasant Preston Park. A heavy shower (which fortunately stopped soon after we left the train) had left the trees dripping but smelling fragrant. Immediately we relapsed into the usual half-crazed hiking talk – this time Jim expounded on his theory that cats have retractable whiskers (apparently they yank hard own their own tail to retract them, and sneeze whilst closing their mouth, nose and ears to shoot them out again).

Around the eponymous Preston Park Station the roadside was littered with signs stating “Event Today”, without any indication of what or where the event was, or what time it might be at. Mystified, we turned up the longer-than-expected West Hill, where I performed my navigatorly duty by spotting the slightly obscure Ring turning into Fryent Country Park. What seemed like a little-used path led into a wide expanse of grassland at the foot of Barn Hill. We wondered why the Capital Ring led in a big right angle along the foot of the hill and then up it, when there was a wide path cutting directly across. Both paths linked up and entered woodland half way up the hill, and it felt like this would be yet another hill on the Ring with poor views.

At the top of the gentle climb of Barn Hill there was the surprise of a small pond, populated by huge numbers of yellow flag irises and four ducks. According to the map the Ring went around the far end of the map before doubling back on itself. This seemed a little pointless but we dutifully followed the official route and were duly rewarded for our efforts. Not only was there the third trig point of the Ring, but we found, as an unexpected view opened up in front of us, that we were virtually on top of the new Wembley Stadium.

We headed back down the other side of the pond, and back down the hill on a route almost parallel to our ascent. Reaching the bottom of the woodland, we turned sharp right, startling a rabbit, and eventually reached a car park. A chap approached us and aggressively demanded to know why we were walking here, instead of on nearby Hampstead Heath. When we explained about the Ring, he continued to insist that we should go to Hampstead Heath, before suddenly and without warning running off down the A4140.

We crossed the A4140 ourselves, carefully watching out for any other passing nutters, and walked into the eastern half of Fryent Country Park. A gentle ascent through grassy fields led us to the top of Gotfords Hill. Although lower and with a more gentle profile than the neighbouring Barn Hill, it had far better views as it was free of tree cover. In fact the views from here of a green rolling landscape would be enough to convince all but the most cynical (so that would be Jus and Cat then!) of the attractions of walking the Ring. Near the summit a large neat square had been mown into the otherwise long grass. It was too slopey for a bowling green so we assumed that it must be a picnic area, despite the lack of tables or bins.

Other people on the web had said that it was difficult to follow the Ring off of Gotfords Hill, and so we were very careful to follow the signs. After a while the signs stopped, but we eventually picked them up again a couple of fields later cutting across from our right, and through a gap in the houses to the left – it was clear that we too had strayed briefly off the route. With neither the route nor the field boundaries on the map concurring with what we could actually see around us, we were forced to agree with those previous walkers.

Back in the housing we picked up more of the “Event Today” signs, but these ones were more informative – we learnt that it was the final of the FA Trophy at the new Wembley Stadium. If we had stayed on Barn Hill earlier we might have been able to watch Stevenage beat Kidderminster 3-2!

Ambling through the houses, we came first upon the grand “new” church of St Andrews, which according to the Aurum Press guide was moved here from Marylebone! Just around the corner was the diminutive church that it replaced, also called St Andrews, set in a quiet, secluded and very green little churchyard.

A little further down the road, we assumed from the surroundings that we were about to enter an industrial estate. However, the robust fencing turned out to be merely for a garden centre – we wondered if they stocked gold plated gnomes? It didn’t look like a dodgy enough area to warrant these levels of security? A sailing club had a similar perimeter, but hinted that we were about to return to more interesting surroundings. Sure enough, a minute later we were heading across open grass littered with information panels informing us that the large expanse of water ahead was Brent Reservoir, also known as the Welsh Harp. The alternative name supposedly derives from a local pub, although I personally felt it might have derived from the shape of the reservoir - but then people say I’m a lyre (groan...).

I’d been looking forward to this part of the walk – it looked nice on the map, and the guide described it as a wildlife haven. In reality it was a bit anticlimactic. The path ran inland of the lakeside trees, so that one rarely got to see the water. When one did, it seemed that the steely grey, menacing surface had scared off any wildlife, for we saw none at all – not even the ubiquitous canada goose.

It seemed a long way along the surprisingly monotonous edge of the reservoir (nearly a mile, according to my learnéd search engine), despite stopping for a break on one of the numerous benches (which had fortunately dried out after the early shower). We were for once glad to emerge onto a road, and astonished when we had to wait at the side of the road for traffic lights to allow us to cross a bridge over an arm of the reservoir. Unfortunately, on the far side was West Hendon, disreputable enough to make us long to be back at the Welsh Harp. We escaped over the very-well-soundproofed M1, and marched down the entirely dull and residential Park Road, which stretched ahead of us for an interminable kilometre. It seemed unbelievable that immediately behind the suburban facade to our right was the huge Brent Cross Shopping Centre. We had no time to investigate though, as we were due to rendezvous with Dave in Hendon Park. Crossing a railway, we reached the park at the appointed time and crashed on a bench for a well-earned swig of water.

(b) Hendon Park to Finsbury Park

How would one arrange meetings like this without mobile phones? It appeared that we must have missed Dave by a few seconds as he wandered past the foot of the railway bridge on his way to the foot of the park, where he mistakenly believed the Capital Ring ran. With mobile communication, we were able to guide him to our resting place within a few moments – without it, we could have spent all day wandering around the park looking for each other!

With the full Ring gang in place, we were able to follow the trail out of Hendon Park and on an unnecessarily convoluted route through houses to reach the A502. Looking down from the A502 at the River Brent, we saw a couple of decrepit summerhouses that used to stand in the grounds of a long-gone hotel. It looked like a path running along the Brent, between a small wood and some flats. It looked like it might provide a more pleasant alternative to a very noisy corner of the Capital Ring. However, Jim said it would be a short cut and therefore cheating, and insisted we stuck to the deafening official route beside the North Circular. We eventually turned onto a path beside the Brent a couple of hundred yards further on, where we could see that the “short-cut” path did indeed connect up.

Now the official Ring route finally turned off the roads to run through a park alongside the Brent. It was very attractive; the path weaving between flowering azaleas and rhododendrons. However, the beauty couldn’t drown out the ever-present background roar of the North Circular, supposedly the loudest road in Britain. Soon the river wound between a couple of ponds, which used to be “decoy ponds”, designed to attract ducks to be caught for the table. One of the ponds was riddled with algae and duckweed, but the second, larger pond was mirror-still and had a few ducks – tufted, shovellers and the ever-present mallard – drifting lazily around.

Crossing a road we briefly rejoined the Brent before turning right along a tributary, the tiny yet litter-strewn Mutton Brook, which we would be following for what would come to feel like a very long way. We followed the brook through a foul-smelling culvert under the North Circular, and emerged into a grassy space between the brook and the road. We would stroll through similar grassy brookside spaces for the next couple of kilometres accompanied by the constant background roar of the North Circular. Although some of the spaces were quite attractive – spattered with woodland, with little wooden bridges criss-crossing the stream – it quickly become a little repetitive and therefore tedious.

We were glad to reach Hampstead, where the brook and the Ring entered a series of municipal parks. The first one was your average big-grass-area-full-of-footballers-and-tennis-courts; after that came a pleasant floral display in a narrow park along the banks of the Mutton Brook. Just south of here was the amusingly named “Big Wood”, which Jim and I had a snigger about when my father-in-law Dave wasn’t looking!

As we left the parks a large but architecturally uninspiring synagogue was just emptying out after a service. It was wonderful to see how busy it was and how neatly dressed and polite all the attendees were. Their (to us) unusual attire was a welcome reminder of how wonderfully cosmopolitan London is.

Jews seem to have a reputation for being wealthy. Like all stereotypes, I suspect that this to be a lie, and Jews to be no wealthier than any other group of people. However, the area of Hampstead we were now passing through certainly went some way to reinforce this conjecture. Huge (but unfortunately dull and identical) houses lined either side of the roads; equally huge but dull and identical cars lined their driveways. The gardens had a certain similar quantity too, as if each household employed the same gardener. It was a peaceful and very desirable neighbourhood, yet the Edward Scissorhands-quality was more than a little unnerving after a while.

East Finchley station looked somewhat run down after the immaculate Hampstead; we looked back as instructed in the guidebook to see the statue of an archer on the station roof. Cherry Tree Wood was actually a small but very busy metropolitan park. Clouds were massing, and rain looked imminent (the forecast had been for frequent heavy showers moving in this afternoon). When we saw picnic tables at the eastern end of the park, we decided to stop for lunch whilst we still had a chance. Apart from one or two light spots of rain we got away with it.

Heading up a short hill, we hoped that if the rains came on the trees of the upcoming woods would shelter us. However, the rain stayed away as we strolled down a wide, level path through Highgate Wood, passing an incongruously positioned but nevertheless impressive pink granite drinking fountain. Nearby was a sign marking the spot where a ceremony took place to formally open the Capital Ring – I was surprised to read that it had been open for less than two years.

Crossing a road we entered Queens Wood. To the left was an organic café where the menus looked so good that we wished we hadn’t just had lunch. As the path wound its way across a shallow valley we decided that this wood was more attractive than Highgate Wood. However, it also seemed smaller, and all too soon we were back on a residential road (Priory Gardens) with long, steep flights of steps up to the houses on our left. We soon found a newly-tarmac’d footpath leading just as steeply up between the houses, and emerged onto the A1, looking surprisingly narrow and quiet for one of the most important roads in the country. We were not on it for long, as we almost immediately turned off onto the Parkland Walk. Just before we turned off, we could see an impressive archway spanning the A1 a little way ahead.

The Parkland Walk is a former railway line, now converted into a very long, thin nature reserve. With trees each side, and level gravel underneath, it was very pleasant walking, although we were disturbed to see a planning application aiming to tarmac the path (making it far harder on long-distance walkers feet, as if the Ring isn’t hard enough already!).

Though it was pleasantly verdant, the trees blocked any views, and often it felt like we were walking down a long green tunnel. The only point I can remember of interest came when we reached the former site of Crouch End Station, where the long platforms still remain on each side of the path. Coming out of the brickwork at the far end of the left-hand platform was a huge goblin-like creature; a stunning piece of sculpture with the power to terrify twilight walkers, and scare alcoholics off the booze! With the help of the guidebook I was able to enlighten some local passers-by that it was a “spriggen” – a mythical beast native to these parts.

We had been passed by a number of joggers on the Parkland Walk (it seems to be better-used than most of London’s paths). As the long threatened rain finally arrived in torrential form, the joggers all came running back hell-for-leather, exchanging wry grins with us as we hid under a tree. We had to keep backing away as the monsoon-intensity rain caused a large puddle to form and advance rapidly towards us!

After 20 minutes, the rain eased, and by the time we headed off the end of the Parkland Walk it was barely spotting, and yet we had the park almost to ourselves as a result. Unusually the pond here was not dominated by mallards, canada geese or swans; instead a mix of shovellers, tufted ducks and mandarin ducks provided a colourful spectacle. A parallel path was lined with stunning floral displays, and we headed on thinking that this was a splendid park indeed. We felt that it would be far nicer if the Finsbury Park area was remembered for this lovely park, and not for the unfortunately antisocial activities of a few nefarious individuals at the eponymous mosque, which we saw no sign of on the Capital Ring. ... Continued