Richmond Park to Slough - A Cycling Perambulation

Autumn is upon us, meteorologically at least, and my most recent 'cycling perambulation' began at Chiswick in West London. I decided to pedal down to Richmond Park via Sheen in order to pick up the Tamsin Trail, which is a 7½-mile loop around the park, designed with cyclists in mind. The creator's daughter was called Tamsin and the rest is history. It was extremely pleasant and at one point a deer stood right in front of me in the trail. There are some quite formidable climbs however. Worth seeking out is the 'protected view' where one can see in a straight line through the trees all the way to St Paul's Cathedral. A reasonably detailed map is recommended as you'll need to spot where the route changes course to cut across the western side of the park. I missed my cue and ended up cycling uphill on the road, re-entering the park at Sawyer's Hill.

Having completed my '360,' I left the park, which covers a bigger area than the Bois de Boulogne in Paris, via the Roehampton Gate and I picked up the Thames Path as far as Kew Bridge. My aim was now to pick up the Grand Union Canal towpath westward from where the canal leaves the river in Brentford. I stopped for a quick McDonald's and upon asking if they could fill my flask up with tap water I was told 'We don't do that any more.' I didn't want to make a fuss as the girl serving was very young and had clearly been told to say this, but I did add 'I thought that was illegal' and quickly went into 'keyboard warrior' mode when handed a till receipt inviting customer feedback. Since then I have learned that only licensed premises are obliged to provide free water. In short, they weren't breaking the law; they were just being mean-spirited!

The canal towpath climbed past several locks, and only occasionally did I encounter an urban stretch, reminding me that I was still inside the lasso of the M25. I had ridden most of this canal's towpath before – it goes all the way to Birmingham – but not this section from the Thames up to where the canal link from Paddington comes in. A little further on, I branched off onto the Slough Line, which was dead straight towards the town that is mostly famous for being the setting of the TV comedy 'The Office.' Twilight was descending, and unimaginatively, I headed for the nearest 'Spoons.' Many folk turn their noses up at the pub chain but there is nearly always a free water dispenser available for customers, something that McDonald's could do with introducing if they're too busy to use taps. The real ale is generally excellent and at £1.99 a pint (as it was on this occasion) there were no complaints from me.

After riding through a town centre that seemed well-endowed with restaurants for a non-tourist town, I camped in a small wood adjoining a large park. With Heathrow Airport not far away, the sound of the planes could have been intrusive, but mingled with the traffic drone from the M4, it served more as gently lulling white noise.

Adding no litter to the dreadful accumulation in that wood, I packed up my things the next morning and headed into Old Windsor via Datchet, which seemed a very pleasant place. I was amazed that a 'full English' cost me just £6.80 in Old Windsor, fearing that it would be at least a tenner in this salubrious area! From here, I picked up the Thames towpath, with the aim of following this back into London. To my mind, Old Windsor is the western end of the continuous cycling route along the riverbank, with much of the path being classified 'footpath' west, particularly after Maidenhead to Marlow, Henley-on-Thames, Reading and the great beyond.

After passing Runnymede, made famous by the signing of the Magna Carta by King John in 1215, I passed beneath the M25 to reach Staines-upon-Thames, a town made famous by the comedian Sacha Baron Cohen for making it the home of his 'rude boy' character Ali G. I think the 'Upon Thames' was added to the name purely to offset the perhaps downmarket view of the town that people had due to this. I can confirm that the area around the Thames is very pleasant indeed.

I should have swapped to the south bank at Chertsey. My route along the north bank involved me diligently following the instruction to revert to Shanks' pony at one point, soon after which the route ended abruptly at a ferry crossing. I decided to save myself some cash and I rode to Walton Bridge to resume my route on the south bank. At Hampton Court Bridge the path swaps to the north bank but I followed Hampton Court Road to cut off the meandering bend to Kingston upon Thames (note for the PopMaster quiz if I get on again: I don't think this is 'Kingston' that UB40 were singing about). Here, I decided to take a look at the town centre. I must say that I expected something more artisanal and quaint, akin to Richmond, but the bustling centre felt more like Croydon to me. Interesting though, was the artwork called 'Out Of Order,' which made use of a dozen red telephone boxes which were positioned like a row of tumbling dominoes. Interestingly, for many years Kingston was the administrative HQ of Surrey, in spite of having been within Greater London since 1965. The county council is now based in Reigate while the county town is still Guildford. Confusing, hey?

Eastward from here, cyclists will need to look out for the points where the Thames Path changes sides. It's definitely on the south bank via Richmond and Kew to Barnes, but I cut though Richmond Park to cut off further meanderings. Later on, I found myself diverted away from the north bank due to plush developments which reminded me of Dubai. There was a great view of the former Battersea Power Station across the water, which every Pink Floyd fan knows graces the cover of the band's 1977 album, 'Animals.'

I eventually arrived at Waterloo Station, where, having fallen foul of the 'no bikes on trains from 4pm-7pm' rule, which covers non-folding bikes on all trains leaving London, I sat watching people come and go, a bit like Ray Davies in the famous Kinks song. I eventually summoned the energy to check out the eateries, but I wasn't in the mood for splashing the cash (also a bit like Ray Davies, if the biography I read is to be believed) so I made do with a KFC while sitting on the pavement, as it was one of those seatless places. The surrounding area was also binless so I used a nearby wheelie-bin to deposit the detritus.

And with that, I was soon being whisked back to England's Garden. Two weeks later I would embark upon another two-day trip, this time riding the Flitch Way, a reasonably lengthy section of disused railway, now converted for the pleasure of walkers and cyclists. This runs across Essex from Braintree to Bishop's Stortford, which is just in Hertfordshire. A nearby woodland would provide me with another aircraft-dominated night's sleep, this time courtesy of Stansted, and the ride back across country to Chelmsford the following day would surprise me with myriad quaint villages with thatched cottages. Forget the stereotypes; a significant part of Essex could almost be described as a flattened out version of the West Country. And for the amateur cyclist, that really is no bad thing.

[Adam Colton is the author of 'Stair-Rods & Stars: A Cycling Perambulation']

The North Kent Coast and Bedgebury Forest - a Cycling Perambulation

As the lockdown rules have changed a bit and we can now drive to different locations for exercise (in England), I've enjoyed several pleasant rides in different parts of Kent.

It was on the hottest day of the year so far when I drove to the town of Faversham, which proudly houses one of only a handful of copies of the Magna Carta. I parked on a loop of road that crosses the dual carriageway Thanet Way to the east of the town. I then got my bike out of the boot and rode via the village of Graveney to Seasalter. I remember being taken here as a teenager when my grandfather was doing some maintenance work on a chalet. I was off school for three weeks with chicken pox so my grandparents took me there for a day out, mostly to relieve the boredom I think. You could view this 'boredom relief' as a practice run for six months on furlough 32 years later, although once 'sensible' camping is permitted and pubs are tentatively open I can see more options!

When I came into the suburbs of Whitstable, a town famed for its oysters, I tried to get to the sea by crossing a bridge, but the track was a dead end one side and private the other, so I continued along the road. When I reached the quayside with all its seafood stalls I enjoyed not a pint of whelks but a cup of tea while sitting on a wooden construction. It was busy but people were still being sensible about social distancing, unlike the crazed scenes on the TV that day from Bournemouth and Camber on the south coast. Perhaps city dwellers desperate for sea air with a somewhat lax approach to coronavirus just haven't heard of Whitstable!

I continued along the sea wall to Herne Bay, passing a point where a spit of sand runs out to sea and people were walking back and forth along it, a little like the characters in a painting by MC Escher. There was also a sandbank marooned in the water along this section. Getting stranded on there with the tide coming in would take social isolation to another level. Further on the remnants of the end of an old pier can be seen at Herne Bay. The wind farm, which can be seen out in the estuary / sea, was the world's largest from April 2013 until September 2018. Looking back to the west you can see the Isle of Sheppey, England's second largest island after Wight.

I sat down by Herne Bay's current pier and then headed inland, using a shop in Sea Street to buy some lunch before riding along Bullockstone Road, which climbed through trees. I then took a dead end lane into West Blean Wood and sat down in the shade near a gate to have my lunch. It was very hot by now, but I hoped the largely wooded route I intended to take back to the car would provide some shade.

I rode the track known as New Road which was dead straight as it headed west. I saw a slow worm at the side of a lane at one point. I still think they look more like snakes than legless lizards! Eventually I picked up the Crab and Winkle Way and headed south. This is an off-road cycle route from Whitstable to Canterbury which was named after one of the UK's first railway lines, opening in 1830 and operating until 1953. The cycle route makes only minimal use of the former track bed but is very pleasant. I came out onto the A290 near the University of Kent and mused about whether or not my own life would have been better, worse or just different if I had gone to uni at some point. I guess I would have had more money by now, but would I have had the time to pursue the things I enjoy as much, such as biking, camping and writing my books? The jury's out.

The philosophising came to an end as I turned down a road to Rough Common and picked up the next track into the woods on the northwest side of Canterbury, another 'New Road.' This trail ran for several miles and eventually curved down to meet a lane. I turned left and felt the full force of the heat as I climbed a shadeless hill. On the next lane, there was a glorious view before the inevitable descent. I rode back to the car via Staplestreet and at one point I thought a stone was rolling down the road, but the sound was produced by either my tyre sticking to the tarmac or the tarmac sticking to my tyre.

Personally I quite like the heat, which makes it rather ironic that I am perhaps one of the most vociferous worriers about global warming you will meet. I get the impression that I am in a minority on both counts. "Eco-worrier and proud!" I hasten to add that usually I use public transport to reach my riding locations but this isn't advised at the moment due to that confounded virus.

Another ride I did as we near the end of the lockdown was a loop around Bedgebury Forest. This is a lovely area of public woodland, which has two cycling circuits of eight miles in length (I don't do kilometres - much!). If you enjoy unusual acoustic songs 'Lady of Bedgebury' recounts the tragic tale of a murdered woman's body which was found in the forest and never identified (YouTube, Spotify, etc.).

The green 'family circuit' is fairly gentle and there is a red route for mountain bikers. I chose the latter, and the banked curves and humps along the furiously winding loop were tremendous fun. There are also a few rocky sections which my suspensionless bike isn't really up to, and just for adrenaline addicts there is a 'black route' with jumps that would appeal to stuntmen. I skipped this section!

Passing out of the forest I climbed towards the A21 on the B2079 and turned left to the village of Flimwell, managing to avoid actually riding on this frenetic road when a pavement appeared – certainly safer and not causing any inconvenience in a rural location like this. I relished the opportunity to have a cup of tea outside a café cum farm shop, this being my first outdoor beverage of 2020, and after this I headed to the edge of the large village of Hawkhurst and returned to my car via Slip Mill Lane and a short byway which presented me with a gruelling climb as a finisher, before a pleasant drive back to 'Ash Vegas,' which is how residents with a sense of irony often refer to the expanding Kentish town of Ashford.

Ashford (Kent) to Deal and Dover - a Cycling Perambulation

Spring is coming but winter wasn't really so bad. February presented us with the hottest winter temperature ever recorded in the UK. Whilst this was very pleasant, it worried me a little because I do wonder what extremes of weather we are unleashing for our descendants. Well, not mine as I don't have any, but you get the point!

Whilst any weather incident is just a single event at a single location, folk on both sides of the climate change debate (perhaps including me) often claim it as evidence for their view. The best way to get an objective view must surely be to be to consult the scientists, and I would recommend a book called 'Our Future Earth' (which was written by a geologist called Curt Stager) for anybody seriously interested in the subject and what is most likely to happen in both the short term and the long term. Personally I think we will pass the often talked about 'point of no return' (if we haven't done so already). After all, when you look at the chaos surrounding one country leaving the EU it is hard to imagine the whole world even agreeing on the science (Mr Trump, anyone?), let alone putting something concrete into action for seven billion people.

By the way, that's a US billion by the way. I heard that our good old British twelve-nought billion was signed out of use by the government in 1974, and as Michael Caine used to say 'Not a lot of people know that!' Hey, let's start a political party and get our Great British numbers back. Anyone else up for the nine-nought milliard, the fifteen-nought billiard and the eighteen-nought trillion? If you're a wealthy city stockbroker I imagine you'd dearly love a game of billiards, but you'll have to settle with playing 'milliards' for now!

Well, I'm actually here to talk about a bike ride. Observing a strong westerly March wind, I decided to let it blow me eastward from Ashford in Kent and see where I ended up, so I set off on along the suburban Hythe Road and cut down past the Hooden on the Hill pub to take the lanes to the village of Wye, passing the old sign in the photograph. At one point I had to lift my bike over a fallen tree which a man was in the process of cutting up with a chainsaw. These winds were serious!

I surprised myself by riding all the way up onto the North Downs past the crown chalk carving which looks out over the Stour Valley. Some walkers cheered me on half way up the climb, and as I came along the top of the ridge by the Devil's Kneading Trough restaurant the side-wind almost blew me onto the grass verge a few times. I continued on through Hastingleigh and walked up a steep hill towards the hamlet of Elmsted, by which time I was deep in the rolling green hills. I turned left and descended into a valley, climbing Dean Hill and continued out to Stone Street, the Roman Road that runs from Lympne to Canterbury.

Beyond this was the village of Stelling Minnis with its many little greens on either side of the road. A 'minnis' in an area of common pasture land, and Stelling Minnis's is one of the last manorial commons in Kent, according to Wikipedia. I then took the lane towards Bridge which descends into an empty valley through the hills and eventually passes a former home of James Bond author, Ian Fleming. However, I turned off a few miles before this and climbed eastward towards Barham. At the top, I was surprised to get a glimpse of the port of Ramsgate around twenty miles away before the lane descended through woodland and then climbed a very steep hill back onto the plateau. The sign said that the gradient was 23%.

Soon I descended to Barham village and the climb past the church and cemetery wasn't so harsh. I crossed the A2 dual carriageway and headed for Snowdown, which lived up to its name as a harsh hailstorm came on and I pedalled like mad to get to the station for shelter. Upon realising that catching the next train involved a two-hour wait I concluded that it would take less time to wait for the sun to return and I continued to Nonington which is really quite picturesque with its thatched roofs.

I had to cut through a copse to get around another fallen tree and the lane eastward was surprisingly hilly but without the dramatic scenery I'd become used to. I was impressed at how well shielded the noise from the A256 was as I approached it, but I had to revise my views about the road's 'great design' when I had to sprint across each carriageway lifting my bike over the central crash barrier to reach the country lane on the other side.

There was a long straight on the next lane and I turned right to head into Northbourne. By now I'd lost my hat and this profoundly annoyed me. I seem to lose a woolly hat every winter, and as I had held onto mine well into March it felt like I'd fallen at the last hurdle. Quelling the annoyance, my idea was to head into the seaside town of Deal via Great Mongeham and catch the train home, but it was a rail replacement bus which means 'no bikes allowed.'

Disorientated, I was tempted to pop into the Sir Norman Wisdom, a Wetherspoons pub named in honour of Deal's most famous resident (although Carry On comedian Charles Hawtrey also lived there), but I eschewed this option and pounded my way along the A258 to Dover instead. This ride was nothing short of gruelling, being nearly all uphill and against the wind with a constant flow of traffic. When I reached Dover I cruised down the steep hill past the castle and headed for the Wetherspoons pub there instead.

I must admit I have become quite a fan of Tim Martin's chain over the years, as you pretty much know what to expect when finding yourself in a town you don't really know, and real ale drinkers seem to make up a considerable part of the target market which has got to be good! The chain is actually named after one of Mr Martin's old teachers who said that he'd never amount to anything. Bringing things full cycle (excuse the pun) the only thing that may cause rancour with some customers is Mr Martin's somewhat outspoken views on that old chestnut, Brexit (he is an impassioned 'no deal outtie'). To be honest I've developed Brexit fever which means turning Jeremy Vine's daily debate off the radio and switching to Classic FM.

All there was left to do for me on my ride was to wander up the High Street and catch the fast train back home. If you want to know what a post-M&S High Street looks like, head for Dover – it's probably coming to a town near you next. High town centre rates? We're all in the same boat. And it's sinking!

Ad break: If you've enjoyed this narrative, there are plenty more in my book 'Stair-Rods and Stars' which documents ten cycling trips in Southern England and can be bought on Amazon (digital format too). Some of my older books can even be downloaded for free.