Through Britain

Blackfriars Station was where I started today to get to Three Bridges Station in Crawley.

To avoid Gatwick Airport I had to go west past Langley Green Hospital. Crawley has districts and I went through Pound Hill, Three Bridges, Langley Green and Ifield Green. These may once have been villages but are now absorbed by Crawley's expansion, led by the development of the airport.

The road out reached countryside and took me to Charlwood. This was under the flight path of planes coming in from the west. On a short stretch of road on the approach to Charlwood I counted four flights, each separated from its predecessor by three to four minutes. At least two (and possibly all) of the planes were Easyjet. I saw a sign outside one house stating that Gatwick was “Big enough”. The intermittent noise emitted by jet engines was surprisingly loud but I suppose people get used to it. Many (including myself) would be deterred from ever wanting to live there.

Just out of Charlwood I turned right at a fork to head for Norwood Hill. I crested a rise shortly before a pub called “A Fox Revived” and caught sight of the North Downs. Chalk faces were visible. I stopped at a roadside style for a snack. After a few minutes I was disturbed by the rare sighting of another walker. He crossed the style and I rose to let him pass. He walked steadily across the field on an indistinct path. My route had kept me to back roads. They were not unduly busy. It represented steadier walking and more direct. The alternative was trusting myself to an unreliable network of paths with the greater risk of getting lost.

This was a hot day and I began to regret not carrying a second bottle of water. I reached Leigh where an auction was being held in a tent outside the Plough inn. Out of Leigh I headed directly north towards Betchworth and the North Downs. I hoped for shops in Betchworth to top up my liquids. In this I was disappointed so began to impose rationing despite my mouth drying quickly after each sip.

The Red Lion between Betchworth and Buckland was my salvation. There was no way in off the street so I walked along the side into a car park at the back. It proved to be an upmarket establishment with restaurant customers seated in the garden amongst animal sculptures. I walked inside and ordered an apple juice at the bar. Then I asked the bar maid to top up my water bottle. She had false eye lashes and her complexion was light tan in colour which didn't look natural. She was certainly good looking despite these efforts at improvement. I sat in the garden disturbing some small bells with my head giving myself a brief musical accompaniment. A notice board invited one to Eat, Drink, Celebrate and Sleep in one of the eleven en suite bedrooms. When I left I passed a half open cellar door where a guitarist was playing to yet more customers.

I now reached Buckland, a village where my parents lived for a few years after my father retired. I walked round the grave yard of the church where my sister had married a man of immense promise but handicapped by a mental condition. My sister had been unaware of this until after the marriage. It was too much for her to handle. Her own health was badly affected so a divorce quickly followed.

My parents had owned part of Buckland Court. This was behind the church and protected from the inquisitive by privacy notices at the entrances. Buckland Court was previously the home of the local landowner. The old house was transformed in 1830 when it became an impressive white regency mansion. When the landowner decided to live elsewhere in the 1950s the building was divided into five units. The wedding reception was held at Buckland Court so the guests had the shortest of walks from the church.

I crossed the busy road connecting Dorking and Reigate. There was a pond on the village green. The War Memorial near the pond disclosed that seven local residents had died in the First World War and thirteen in the Second. Normally casualties in the first conflict exceed those in the second. I passed the Rectory, crossed the railway line and began the climb up the North Downs.My path crossed the North Downs Way. I saw a walker on the Way and a cyclist overtook me as I walked along the ridge.

I reached the B2032 which almost at once crossed the M25. I then turned left onto the B2220 which went through Walton-on-the-Hill and on to Tadworth where I caught the 1719 to London Bridge. My step count today was 45,491 which beat my record. However, I did only start checking my steps about two years ago.

Distance today: 17.5 miles. Total 56.77.

Starting at London Victoria, I had to change at Purley to reach Tadworth. I took a residential road heading west but soon lost myself in a tangle of back roads and paths. It was a relief to emerge from woodland and recognize the lake at Walton-on-the -Hill. This wasn't quite where I'd hoped to be but at least I knew where I was. People sat at the water's edge and an artist was at work nearby.

The idyllic scene was shattered when a car pulled up. Two men got out and confronted a young black man. He seemed very distressed and shouted at the men that they should leave him alone. It looked as if he was mentally ill. There wasn't a serious fight but the young man resisted attempts to take him to the car. As I walked beyond the lake it looked as if he had been taken in hand. No one intervened or even questioned what was happening.

I left Walton-on-the-Hill on a minor road heading north. At a fork I took Ebbisham Lane, a cul-de-sac. After passing a Riding Centre, I reached the end of the road and took a path. White fencing to the north indicated a gallop for horses. Epsom Race Course was in that direction. I now entered territory that had been occupied as a military camp in WW1. A huge area was covered by tents and marquees. Soldiers were trained in trench warfare, shooting, throwing grenades and defending themselves against gas attacks. At its height there were 8000 troops at Tadworth Camp. I passed a bench with two riding boots and a helmet carved in the middle of the seat.

I reached a notice board at the same time as two women hikers. We were equally mystified as the map on the board did not show Langley Vale Wood nor did it indicate where the board was situate on the map. We left in opposite directions with the dimmest notions of where we were headed. The path I took was pleasantly wooded on both sides but it took me too far south and too close to the M25. I emerged on a road that I could identify but I didn't know where I was on that road. A woman motorist with a baby on the back seat stopped beside me, admitted she was lost and asked me the way to Reigate. I said that I wasn't sure but that I had a map. She opened the window beside the passenger seat. I spread the map out on the seat, told her where I thought we were and suggested she crossed the M25 and took the A25 to Reigate. She thanked me and drove away. Almost immediately I realised that I'd left my distance glasses, which give me some protection from the sun, on the passenger seat. It seemed ironic that, in trying to help someone, I should lose something that would cost me several hundred pounds to replace. I nursed the hope that she might notice the spectacle case soon enough to do something about it. At a crossroads a car of the right colour approached but drove straight on. Then the right vehicle quickly followed and the woman handed over my spectacles.

I realised from the signs at the crossroads that Ashstead was behind me and not ahead as I'd thought so I turned round. I'd noticed a path through woodland that stretched beyond Ashstead that'd suit my purpose. I joined it at Ashstead Common which adjoins Epsom Common. Soon I crossed a railway and then followed a clear straight track used by runners, walkers and cyclists. I reached the B280 and turned right towards the A243 which I reached at Malden Rushett. The path I wanted next was a left turn off the A243 leading to a bridge over the A3. A stretch of this had been concreted over to provide access to three enormous car parks. I presume these were intended to serve a nearby theme park not far from Chessington Zoo. I heard screams of excitement from somewhere nearby. It seems awful to me that the countryside should be despoiled to accommodate such vacuous activity.

Once over the bridge I followed the path into Claygate. I made for the station as I'd lost the map which covered the land that lay ahead. I'd stuck it in my belt from where it must have slipped onto the ground. But I did have my glasses!

Distance today 10 miles; total 66.77.

I returned to Claygate Station on what was already a fine day. I progressed through a prosperous village in the commuter belt to Telegraph Lane. This was at first a road lined with residences but it then emerged into countryside. It climbed steadily and narrowed but remained capable of taking smaller vehicles. Then at the top of Telegraph Hill there was a substantial house with an interesting history.

After the Napoleonic Wars the Admiralty in Whitehall sought a way to communicate swiftly with Portsmouth, the major naval base. Semaphore House was constructed with that purpose in mind. It was set on top of a hill and a pole attached to the roof increased its height above the surrounding land. Moveable wooden boards were attached to the pole. These were used to transmit messages between Whitehall and Portsmouth acting in concert with similar structures on other hill tops. This system operated until 1847 when it was superseded by the arrival of electronic messaging by telegraph.

I grew up in Hinchley Wood, a commuter village on the far side of Telegraph Hill. I entered woodland which I had often visited as a young teenager with my friends. We did so with some apprehension as rougher, stronger and more aggressive boys also frequented these woods. In particular there was Campbell, a boy noted for scoring multiple goals on the soccer field. An encounter with him and his mates might have been traumatic but it never happened.

I descended Telegraph Hill until the houses of Hinchley Wood became visible through the trees. I reached the A309 which used to be the A3 until the course of that road was diverted further south near Hook. At the crossroads dividing Manor Road North from Manor Road South there was still a a Petrol Filling Station despite the lapse of over 60 years since I lived here. However the Hinchley Wood Hotel, on the far side of the crossroads, was now a block of flats called Hinchley Manor. With others there, I'd consumed alcohol unobserved by my parents. I discovered how much one needed to drink in order to make oneself ill.

All the shops had changed but some housed similar businesses to those I remembered from the past. I made a slight detour to look at the house I'd lived in from the age of four until I left at the age of 19 to live in a Clapham flat with University friends. The house was called St Martins and numbered 9 Meadow Close although both the name and number had disappeared. The almond tree, the laburnham and the fir trees had all gone and the front garden had been entirely paved over to accommodate cars. The house is detached but set closely between the two adjoining properties. There'd been a loft conversion so a new window was set into the roof. I took a photo on my phone.

My route now took me along Manor Road North which became Sugden Road. I passed underneath the railway I'd travelled on earlier and walked beside the Victoria Recreation Ground. Surbiton became Kingston and I joined the River Thames shortly before Kingston Bridge. Beyond the bridge I stopped briefly in Canbury Gardens for a snack. I learnt that the Sopwith Camel, a successful fighter plane in WW1, had been developed here from just before the war started.

I passed the Skiff Club where my father had been a member. I occasionally coxed small crews made up of my father and his rowing friends. Mostly the riverside path was shaded from the sun by trees. Teddington Lock and Eel Pie Island were on my route. Then the Star and Garter Home for wounded soldiers and the terrace on top of Richmond Hill came into view. My intention had been to walk on to Kew Bridge but the heat was uncomfortable and I faced a few more miles with minimal shelter. I left the Thames and entered Richmond Green, a large open expanse much enjoyed by those seeking no shelter from the sun. Richmond Theatre and Library are placed here as I saw on my way to Richmond Station.

Distance today 11.02 miles; total 77.79.

Today I experienced an early setback which I turned to my advantage. After I'd crossed Richmond Green and passed under the railway bridge and Twickenham Bridge, I was confronted by a barrier. A notice informed me that a section of the towpath to Kew had collapsed. Although the gap had been plugged by sandbags, it was still considered too dangerous for common use.

I was standing by the footbridge at Richmond Lock. As I crossed that bridge I realised that, by being on this side of the river, I'd reach the Grand Union Canal much sooner. There was a pleasant path alongside the river interrupted only briefly by a spell on the road. I arrived at a tributary of the Thames described as the Duke of Northumberland's River where once there'd been a mill, long since demolished. When I checked my map later the river seemed to be the Crane River. This river joined the Thames by Isleworth Alt, a substantial island thickly covered by trees and undergrowth. The main flow of the Thames was on the far side of the island. On the near side a motley collection of rusting barges rested on the river bed amongst puddles of water, indicative of the lack of rain over the past month.

I passed the London Apprentice pub and came to All Saints Church Isleworth. Now I'd reached the grounds of Syon House where a good path crossed 200 acres of Grade 1 listed parkland. Here a battle had been fought in 1642 when the Parliamentarians resisted an attempt by Royalists to enter the capital. The house was built in the 16th century on the site of Syon Abbey. Since 1594 it has been owned by the Dukes of Northumberland. Robert Adam worked on the interior in the 18th century.

After Syon House I had a short spell on a main road before reaching Brentford Lock. This is where a branch of the Grand Union Canal reaches the Thames. On the canal towpath I soon passed a sign indicating that Braunston, a big centre for canal boats, was 94 miles away. Not long after going under the M4 I reached the Hanwell flight where six locks take the canal to a higher level. Soon after that I passed a point at which the railway, canal and road crossed each other. The canal was carried on a viaduct over the railway and the road bridge was just above the canal. This was hard to achieve so the great engineer, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, was asked to prepare the design. It turned out to be his last project.

At Bull's Bridge I stood at a significant junction. One branch of the canal headed off towards Little Venice and Paddington Station. The other made for the rather more distant Birmingham. Hayes, reached soon afterwards, looked very dingy. Rubbish was strewn about and under the bridge reeked of urine. I thought briefly about catching the train at the local station but quickly rejected it.

The next escape route was at West Drayton. I was feeling quite tired by then and saw the station from the towpath on the far side of the canal. I reached it over the bridge which connected West Drayton with Yiewsley. I had to push through crowds waiting at the bus stop. The man in the railway ticket office said there were no trains to London for at least an hour and it was advisable to catch a bus to Hayes where there were some trains running. I went to Costas to rest and decide what to do. The girl there obviously thought polishing the coffee machine more urgent than providing any service. Eventually I was able to ask for a toasted tea cake but she didn't seem to understand my request. That helped me decide to return to the towpath immediately.

After another stint I reached Uxbridge. In its centre was a large quadrilateral of a traffic island with vehicles converging from all directions. Fortunately there were traffic lights which gave pedestrians their only chance of making it to the far side. I thus reached Uxbridge tube station which was the terminus for both Metropolitan and Piccadilly lines.

Distance today 15.31; total 93.1 miles.