This week it was revealed that only 4 commuters are using
the £60m cable car across the River Thames. Information released under the
Freedom of Information Act showed only four Oyster Cards used the route more
than five times in one week in October. This is tragic news for an expensive
prestige project but why would you want to travel over the river when you can
travel on it?
The tide has dropped considerably by the time we've finished
our pint and the kayak is bobbing at the far reach of outstretched legs dangled
off the pier. The current catches us, and the Barmy Arms slips away behind as
we paddle hard to reignite chilled bodies. We’re heading east, back the way
we've come, through Richmond and past Kew Gardens, along the watery artery
towards the heart of the city.
Times have changed since the Romans navigated the 7 metre
tidal range of the longest river in England to found Londinium in the 1st
century AD. We now have the Thames Barrier, the world’s second largest moveable
flood defence, to protect us from storm surges and you can check high and low
tide times on Twitter.
Ollie on the barge |
What a place to live
We set off from a mate’s converted Dutch Barge aptly named Serenity, which is moored in a peaceful basin near Gunnersbury. Richard welcomed us onboard his floating abode, a well-kept beauty built in 1905, and we drank freshly brewed coffee by the wood-burning stove while he explained the finer points of kayaking on the Thames.
‘Head west first, against the current, so it’ll be easier on
the way back. And don’t fall in.’
Serenity at her mooring |
The autumn breeze blew fresh against our cheeks as we tipped
the kayak off Serenity’s roof and it hit the water with a satisfying thwack. We
were bundled up with layers but the trees turn exhibitionist in the cold,
exposing branches and knotted trunks. Their discarded leaves lay on the water,
so many shades of brown clustered like the rusty iron roofs of slum shacks seen
from the air.
Cleaner than you think
We found our rhythm quickly and settled into a steady pace, occasionally pausing to admire a heron in a tree or a cormorant with wings outstretched to dry. The presence of these fish eating birds is a good indicator of the cleanliness of the Thames. Just as well; the river supplies two thirds of London’s drinking water.
Our only human companions on the river were rowers; it’s too
cold now for pleasure cruising. In spring and summer the waterway will be
teeming with boats and the scullers will have to check more frequently over
their shoulders as they scythe powerfully along. We observed the rules of the
river, staying to right hand side and well away from the speeding vessels.
The houseboats moored along the Thames are a curious
collection indeed. We could not fathom how some had survived the recent winds;
makeshift wooden living boxes tacked on to the most basic of metal barges.
Others, more sinister, seemed to be the work of a maritime Dr Frankenstein;
battered boats melded together with metal plating, stove pipes sticking
improbably from their roofs. Still more; moulding, creaking, tarpaulins
flapping, chaotic interiors exposed. As we slipped quietly beside these empty
dwellings I had the eerie feeling we were trespassing on someone’s life.
Perhaps a maniac recluse who could return at any moment, spot us and fly into a
deadly rage.
Across the Thames from Twickenham. The Royal Star & Garter Home in the centre |
At Twickenham, opposite Eel Pie Island where the Rolling
Stones drove crowds wild in the 60s, there are two pubs to slake a paddlers
thirst, both right on the river and easily accessible from floating transport.
The Barmy Arms was cash only but we rustled up enough change for pints and
while we drank at the water’s edge we had an encounter with a fellow named
John.
He lurched drunkenly out from behind a bank of portaloos,
exclaiming to no one in particular;
‘There’s enough for one each. And they’re unisex!’
Mad John, to use his full name, kept us entertained with his
ramblings and bad jokes.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, pulling up his jumper to reveal an
impressive gut. We shook our heads. ‘A naval display,’ came the slurred reply.
Mad John |
Just down river is the White Swan, a charming pub built in
the 17th Century where you might enjoy the water lapping around your
feet if you choose a spot on the veranda at high tide. Its cosy corners are
covered in pictures from the annual White Swan Raft Race held to raise money
for the RNLI. The race takes place in July, the height of summer, surely one of the best times to visit a pub with such an excellent location.
Warmed by red wine we began the return leg of our journey in
the fading light. The river carried us along at quite a pace, giving the
impression that our paddling was more effective than it really was. In just two
hours we had been transformed from amateurs to pros.
To be taken seriously, jacket and paddles must match |
The late afternoon gloom adds an air of mystery to riverside
London. It becomes hard to make out the detail of objects until you are close
to them: trees and boats become merely looming shapes and birds you didn't know
were there take to flight nearby, giving one a start. As the sky darkened I had
the feeling that we were making our way into an unknown and perhaps dangerous
place. It was that familiar feeling of excitement and trepidation that
accompanies exploration and new discoveries.
Fancy your own trip on the tidal Thames? Find out more here:
http://canoelondon.com/places-to-canoe-in-london/kayaking-on-the-tidal-thames/
Wow, I can make perfect pictures out of your words, the beautiful thames, you must write a book
ReplyDeleteThanks Ny. It's a perfect time of year to float down river. Maybe I'll do a few more trips and then write that book!
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