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 staff, 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']
