A Thames Tootle - 29th March 2019
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On a fine sunny day, when UK politics was in utter turmoil, Peter (Impcanoe) and I decided to escape the madness with a gentle downstream tootle on the Thames.
Weather set fair, we met at the Tamesis sailing club in Teddington, the end point of our journey. A nifty shuttle was required so my boat was piggy-backed onto Peters car for the drive to the put in at Walton on Thames. This is such an easy launch point with the (amazingly) free car park and a 10 yard hop to the slipway.
We set off with the sun on our backs and a flotilla of swans, heading under the ugly road bridge and on towards our planned diversion at the Sunbury stream.
The stepped weir is a lively and very slippery affair, so we elected to give it a good look before committing. Not worried about soggy feet on such a warm day, it was quickly decided to proceed, Peter having paddled up the stream a few days earlier to check on blockages. Following Peters lead I let the boat find its own (very quick) way down whilst hanging on tightly to the painter and then cautiously tip-toed down the steps.
The tricky bit completed without mishap, we headed down this surprisingly peaceful little backwater, letting the resident kingfisher lead the way.
Barely more than a mile in length, the first half of this tranquil little stream gently meanders through tree-lined banks and couldnt feel less urban, considering the mighty Thames is only a few yards away. The flow was moderate, so all too quickly we emerged into civilisation again, passing smart back gardens with their ranks of moored cruisers, before reaching the main Sunbury weir, where we bumped our way across the confused water to rejoin the Thames.
The Thames is home to an eclectic collection of strange and wonderful craft, and this orange blob caught my eye, identified by Peter as a marine escape pod of some sort. I suppose it could make an interesting, if rather cramped home for someone.
Peter in his sleek Sojourn and the church of St Marys (Sunbury).
Barely aware of the flow, we lazily paddled on with the gentlest of tailwinds, passing assorted gin palaces and ridiculously expensive residences, whilst shooting the breeze and swapping stories. Surprisingly, on such a fine day, we almost had the river to ourselves for most of the trip a wide strip of watery tranquillity slipping past the everyday noise of busy lives on either side.
Peter and the church of St Marys number two (Hampton). Clearly, St Mary was very popular in these parts.
The next landmark for me was David Gilmours beautiful boat/recording studio, Astoria, where parts of the last few Pink Floyd and Gilmour solo albums were recorded. I spotted a portly chap dressed in black wandering through the garden maybe the man himself, or probably just the gardener.
Ive known this area from the land side for most of my life, but have never paddled this stretch, so was quite surprised to hear about the ongoing problem of illegally moored craft and the notorious slum boats which line the right bank on this stretch, like the marine equivalent of traveller caravans. No doubt, opinions are divided - the slum boats offer cheap, rental accommodation for locals, if you are happy to live in an illegal, grubby and potentially dangerous environment.
Anyway, rant over and back to the trip. We arrived next at Molesey weir where the canoe rollers provided some brief entertainment. Although some dont rotate anymore, my boat slipped down easily in a controlled fashion. It was tempting to ride the rollers, but Im sure it would have ended in tears!
Passing under Hampton Court road bridge, we arrived at Henry XIIIs magnificent palace.
When on the River Wey, were accustomed to taking luncheon within the walls of one of Henrys palaces, but this one is a bit more heavily guarded .and rather more intact! Al fresco luncheon was therefore taken on the opposite bank, under the watchful gaze of a pair of Egyptian geese.
With satisfied stomachs, we set off again, flanking the seemingly endless stone walls of Home Park, the palaces wraparound back garden.
Now pointing in a south easterly direction, the previously gentle tailwind slipped up a gear to greet us head on and ruffle the placid waters for a mile or so. It wasnt exactly hard work, but burned off a few lunch time calories before the river swung to the north east on the approaches to Kingston.
Peter pointed out this magnificent Huf Haus. I generally prefer much older architecture, but remember being intrigued by these flat-packed homes on Kevin McClouds Grand Designs programme.
There are some beautiful craft moored along the Thames Ditton stretch. This lovely old sailing barge caught my eye.
Approaching Kingston the river noticeably widens and the boats get bigger. The paddle steamers at Turks yard looked stunning in the sunshine though inevitably now probably running on diesel.
Here we picked up a third member of the team for a couple of hundred yards a gorgeous red crested pochard. Not that we knew what it was at first (thanks to Peter for the later identification).
Passing the packed riverside pubs of Kingston and having many a smart phone pointed at us, we slipped under the much-widened Kingston road bridge. I used to live in Teddington and have less than fond memories of cycling to and from work over that bridge in rush hour every day. Passing underneath, however, was a pleasure.
A final few hundred yards brought us to journeys end at the inlet next to the Royal Canoe Club the oldest in the UK.
I say journeys end, but there was still the matter of a rush hour shuttle back to Walton to retrieve one of the cars. Still, it was a small price to pay for a fantastic day on the river. Thanks to Peter for a superb day out.
Jim
Weather set fair, we met at the Tamesis sailing club in Teddington, the end point of our journey. A nifty shuttle was required so my boat was piggy-backed onto Peters car for the drive to the put in at Walton on Thames. This is such an easy launch point with the (amazingly) free car park and a 10 yard hop to the slipway.
We set off with the sun on our backs and a flotilla of swans, heading under the ugly road bridge and on towards our planned diversion at the Sunbury stream.
The stepped weir is a lively and very slippery affair, so we elected to give it a good look before committing. Not worried about soggy feet on such a warm day, it was quickly decided to proceed, Peter having paddled up the stream a few days earlier to check on blockages. Following Peters lead I let the boat find its own (very quick) way down whilst hanging on tightly to the painter and then cautiously tip-toed down the steps.
The tricky bit completed without mishap, we headed down this surprisingly peaceful little backwater, letting the resident kingfisher lead the way.
Barely more than a mile in length, the first half of this tranquil little stream gently meanders through tree-lined banks and couldnt feel less urban, considering the mighty Thames is only a few yards away. The flow was moderate, so all too quickly we emerged into civilisation again, passing smart back gardens with their ranks of moored cruisers, before reaching the main Sunbury weir, where we bumped our way across the confused water to rejoin the Thames.
The Thames is home to an eclectic collection of strange and wonderful craft, and this orange blob caught my eye, identified by Peter as a marine escape pod of some sort. I suppose it could make an interesting, if rather cramped home for someone.
Peter in his sleek Sojourn and the church of St Marys (Sunbury).
Barely aware of the flow, we lazily paddled on with the gentlest of tailwinds, passing assorted gin palaces and ridiculously expensive residences, whilst shooting the breeze and swapping stories. Surprisingly, on such a fine day, we almost had the river to ourselves for most of the trip a wide strip of watery tranquillity slipping past the everyday noise of busy lives on either side.
Peter and the church of St Marys number two (Hampton). Clearly, St Mary was very popular in these parts.
The next landmark for me was David Gilmours beautiful boat/recording studio, Astoria, where parts of the last few Pink Floyd and Gilmour solo albums were recorded. I spotted a portly chap dressed in black wandering through the garden maybe the man himself, or probably just the gardener.
Ive known this area from the land side for most of my life, but have never paddled this stretch, so was quite surprised to hear about the ongoing problem of illegally moored craft and the notorious slum boats which line the right bank on this stretch, like the marine equivalent of traveller caravans. No doubt, opinions are divided - the slum boats offer cheap, rental accommodation for locals, if you are happy to live in an illegal, grubby and potentially dangerous environment.
Anyway, rant over and back to the trip. We arrived next at Molesey weir where the canoe rollers provided some brief entertainment. Although some dont rotate anymore, my boat slipped down easily in a controlled fashion. It was tempting to ride the rollers, but Im sure it would have ended in tears!
Passing under Hampton Court road bridge, we arrived at Henry XIIIs magnificent palace.
When on the River Wey, were accustomed to taking luncheon within the walls of one of Henrys palaces, but this one is a bit more heavily guarded .and rather more intact! Al fresco luncheon was therefore taken on the opposite bank, under the watchful gaze of a pair of Egyptian geese.
With satisfied stomachs, we set off again, flanking the seemingly endless stone walls of Home Park, the palaces wraparound back garden.
Now pointing in a south easterly direction, the previously gentle tailwind slipped up a gear to greet us head on and ruffle the placid waters for a mile or so. It wasnt exactly hard work, but burned off a few lunch time calories before the river swung to the north east on the approaches to Kingston.
Peter pointed out this magnificent Huf Haus. I generally prefer much older architecture, but remember being intrigued by these flat-packed homes on Kevin McClouds Grand Designs programme.
There are some beautiful craft moored along the Thames Ditton stretch. This lovely old sailing barge caught my eye.
Approaching Kingston the river noticeably widens and the boats get bigger. The paddle steamers at Turks yard looked stunning in the sunshine though inevitably now probably running on diesel.
Here we picked up a third member of the team for a couple of hundred yards a gorgeous red crested pochard. Not that we knew what it was at first (thanks to Peter for the later identification).
Passing the packed riverside pubs of Kingston and having many a smart phone pointed at us, we slipped under the much-widened Kingston road bridge. I used to live in Teddington and have less than fond memories of cycling to and from work over that bridge in rush hour every day. Passing underneath, however, was a pleasure.
A final few hundred yards brought us to journeys end at the inlet next to the Royal Canoe Club the oldest in the UK.
I say journeys end, but there was still the matter of a rush hour shuttle back to Walton to retrieve one of the cars. Still, it was a small price to pay for a fantastic day on the river. Thanks to Peter for a superb day out.
Jim