Weekly update – cycling into central London

In spite of having a dreadful cold, runny nose, aching limbs and a horrible cough, I couldn’t resist the final leg of cycling into central London.  After all, it was a lovely sunny, crisp day.  A kind of ‘good to be alive day’ and so the decision was made!

I loaded my bike into the car, plus my cycling shoes.  As it was a chilly day I added a bobble hat and gloves, plus the usual sandwiches etc.

Dutifully Rachel drove me to the canal at Uxbridge, west of London but still in the realm of “Greater London” through being just on the inside of the M25.

Mistake #1.  I had dropped the pin on the Apple map at the wrong bridge, so the start of this bike ride wasn’t from exactly the same place as where I’d previously finished.  I decided not to worry, it was only a few hundred yards.

Mistake #2.  I was well wrapped up as I do seem to get cold so easily these days.  Shirt, jumper, gilet, fleece jacket….. well I soon over heated.

Mistake #3.  As I was feeling exceptionally cheerful, I made sure I greeted everyone.  Generally this was a “morning!” or a “hi” or “cheers” for stepping out of my way.  Just about everyone responded in an equally positive way, we all got it.  However, one or two didn’t, I heard “piss off” and “fuck off mate” coming back to me.

On reflection, I don’t think #3 was a mistake after all.

Almost mistake #4 was when I could easily have missed the Paddington arm of the canal.  It was a sharp turn left, just over a steep footbridge.  There was a gaggle of ramblers, all in their brightly coloured coats and outdoorsy kit on the bridge at the same time.  It was quite an effort for me to see the small finger post, otherwise I would have carried on down to the Thames, definitely not where I was planning to go.

As I did turn onto the Paddington arm, I needed to check my memory of the map as I seemed to be heading in the wrong direction.  Perhaps the compass in my head was faltering.  No it wasn’t, I was correct.  I was heading on the right canal towpath but temporarily in an odd direction.

My pace was quite good and I had, somehow, missed all those funny locks that would cause me to stop and negotiate a slope and a scenic spot.  In fact, after leaving Uxbridge, I couldn’t remember seeing a lock until I got to Camden.  If I am right, this is testament to the amazing skill of those canal builders back in Victorian times.

I wizzed along through industrial areas, grotty railway lines and trendy apartments (some really nice ones in the Ealing area) and gradually it became more built up, with a higher and higher population density.

Then I hit the first diversion, where the towpath was closed for a few hundred metres.  Thoughtfully the diversion was well sign posted.  I didn’t seem to mind this too much, although some stretches were displaying signs suggesting cyclists ought to walk.  Nah, I’m on my own, why not carry on?  That approach was mostly fine but some cobbled bridges were steeply challenging and I could suddenly see why I was advised to walk, for fear of ending up in the canal!  I didn’t walk and thankfully didn’t end up in the canal either!

By lunch time(ish) I was starting to get a bit peckish and I knew I didn’t have far to go, so there was time to stop and linger.  Then, in the blink of an eye, I found myself at Little Venice and a huge temptation was right there in front of me: a floating café.  Well, why not?  Aside from ordering a large Americano, I spotted the last slice of chocolate cake.  I had to have it.  All those calories I’d been burning!

I savoured every sip and crumb as I sat outside – remarkable in November – it was just warm enough.  I felt on top of the world.  I tried to reflect on my journey, which started all the way back in September at the Blisworth tunnel in Northamptonshire and now I was in central London.   No, this was not the time to start reflecting and congratulating myself.  I still had a mile or two still to go.

I left the floating café and the lunch time office strollers.  Although Little Venice is very pretty, one can’t help but wonder how much some of the semi-swanky houses go for around here.  I cycled under a bridge and there was a small tent underneath, just tucked neatly to the side.  I assumed someone was in the tent as there was a radio playing.  Naturally thoughts of the [then] Home Secretary Cruella Braverman muttering about their unsightliness and how they should be criminalised, along with anyone who provides a tent for a homeless person.

Just a few yards further, I hit Diversion #2 namely the Maida Hill Tunnel.  It was quite fun cycling on the London streets, I felt quite confident and empowered amongst the buses, taxi etc who all knew they should be mindful of my rights as a cyclist.  They were all very considerate, even the drivers of ridiculous Ferraris, Porsches and so on.  The only idiots were other cyclists, jumping red lights and behaving badly.  No wonder cyclists have such a bad reputation in London.

Mistake #4 was finding myself on the wrong side of the canal and hitting a dead end.  This is where I was looking over this little marina in the Lisson Green area.  Turns out this is quite a nice little community of boaters, all privately moored long term.  More on this later.  To correct my mistake, again I had another ride on the streets, all quite pleasant and I headed to Regent’s Park, hoping to pick up on the canal again.  It took quite a bit of fiddling around trying to do this.

The canal runs along the edge of Regent’s Park which is very splendid.  It was raising my sense of excitement as I was nearing completion of my little adventure.  I had found myself cycling along the towpath where I’d walked quite recently with our Ukrainians and our friends; it did seem funny.

I cycled back on the towpath to Lisson Green.  I spotted one man cleaning his boat and I asked if he could spare a few minutes, so I could pick his brains.  He was polite about it, although understandably cautious.  He had no idea who I was or what I was going to say.  However, he relaxed quickly as I explained my journey and how I’d been able to chat to a number of boating folk along the way.  I said how I was struck by the range of people living on canals, from affluent types with lovely boats as second homes, through to ramshackle vessels with bedraggled occupants, with many in between the two extremes. I mentioned how some had felt this way of life was under threat, or at least under some pressure.  Further more I had wondered about documenting it, as a historical record.

He thought it was a good idea and spoke of the recent histories of the canals and how their management had gone from one organisation to another, a little of the culture and so on.  To reassure him I wasn’t a complete weirdo, we swapped Instagram handles and he kindly agreed to me taking a quick photo.

I needed to pick up the pace.  I was hoping to catch a train from St Pancras before 4:00pm to avoid issues with my non-folding bicycle.  I sped along the towpath, heading again through the jaw-dropping extravagence of some canal-side properties and within the blink of an eye in the colourful but beautifully grotty Camden Town area.

In no time at all I was off the towpath; I’d gone as far as needed.  Just as quickly I freewheeled into St Pancras, I know, such a rebel.

It was while I was sitting on the platform, waiting for the Bedford train that I allowed myself to reflect on the journey.  This was the time.

I had forgotten how the idea came about but somehow cycling from rural Northamptonshire to the middle of London seemed a good idea.  That was back in September when the days were warm – and warm enough to wear shorts!  The vegetation then would scratch my legs, stinging nettles would sting and I’d have to duck under over grown branches.  That was when I could see the path to take!

I had said ‘hello’ to many along the way and I savoured some of the conversations I’d had.  To my astonishment, I apparently cycled straight passed one person who knew me and I ignored him!  Needless to say I have been hauled over the coals.

A thoroughly enjoyable little adventure; what could be next?

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PS I still have that cold.

Related:

September – starting at Stoke Bruerne 

Early November – making it to Uxbridge