April 2, 2000: Balham to Richmond
Deer in Richmond Park
“Broad-bosomed, becalmed, benign, lies Balham – four square on the Northern Line.” Long before I had ever penetrated the interior of this southern suburb I had been familiar with its name through Peter Seller’s spoof version of a Dylan Thomas epic. (Bill Vincent’s mother-in-law, Siggy, had lived here and I do also remember visiting her flat once late at night.) It had been growing dark when we reached this spot in November, but now there was weak sunlight as the Lees and I climbed up from the underground to begin our next-to-last walk on the Green London Way.
It took a long time to get here. I had an eight-minute wait in Maida Vale for the Bakerloo Line and a similar wait at Waterloo for the Morden line. Curiously, the Lees themselves climbed aboard my carriage at Stockwell (I can’t ever remember that happening before). We were both on time, 9:45, for our rendezvous therefore, but I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee so our first act was to enter a nearby McDonalds where I had the basic breakfast, scrambled eggs, toasted muffin and sausage-style patty and Harold had a scone and jam. At 10:15 we were at last ready to head west.
Gilbert apologizes for all the city pavements required in the first half of the adventure, but we were not at all put off by this. We soon reached the Wandsworth Common Station but soon thereafter there was a problem. We were advised to take a bridge between two lakes but it and, indeed, the lakes themselves, were encircled in fencing because of construction work– and it was not easy to see how to continue once we had found an alternative way around. I sat down on a park bench – while a Boxer brought us his ball – and fished out the A-Zed, concerned that we had overshot our turnoff. We had, but just slightly – and I used the street map to get us out of the common and over to the corner of Lyford Road and Loxley Road – where we were back on route. I kept up an extensive monologue on life at ASL – since it had been a long time since I had seen Tosh.
In a few minutes we were in Wandsworth Cemetery, but the direction “take any route leading to the left and down to the exit at the far end” reminded me that guidebook authors are notoriously sloppy about specifying “the far end” of what? So I fished out the A-Zed a second time and we chose a route that paralleled Magdalen Road. There was a lot of activity in the cemetery – many do-it-yourself landscaping projects were underway – and quite a few of the tombstones on our path were fairly recent. No one had died, however, they had just “fallen asleep.”
After the cemetery we came to a large intersection where a paranoid Tosh was persuaded at last to use the Paris-style iron maiden street loo. There were a lot of people about in Earlsfield and we persevered against the flow to head west on more suburban streets until we reached an entrance to Wimbledon Park. We started off on tarmac but there was the brief diversion of a real footpath in some trees. On the other side of this park there were more semi-detached homes and fewer terraces and it was easy to see that we were ascending the social scale as well as Queensmere Road. The Lees had now begun a long colloquy on the activities of their children – both of whom are well past 30. The weather was a bit greyer but the threatened showers did not seem imminent and we were making good progress at a lovely time of year, with many flowers in spring display and wonderful trees in blossom too.
After a dogleg on Wimbledon Park Side we entered Wimbledon Common (no Wombles in sight, but this was the spot, I later concluded, that Harold had reached his 1800th mile) and we began looking for the famous windmill. It was 12:30 or so by now and it was time for lunch at the adjacent café. There was quite a queue but it was pleasant enough at an inside table. (I had a jacket potato stuffed with chili and it took them so long to get it microwaved that the Lees had finished their fried egg sandwiches and gone back for coffee before I had gotten fairly started.) I drank two Diet Pepsis.
After lunch we headed west again, following a lovely wooded path downhill to the foot of Queensmere and then uphill on the other side and across two golf fairways. At a gravel ride next to a riding ring we headed downhill (with a cast of thousands and their dogs) with a tiny stream and then Beverly Brook as accompaniment. We could see ahead a complex footbridge over the famous Robin Hood Roundabout and this was our next goal, but as we climbed to the top Tosh spotted the Duke of Cambridge pub and insisted we stop for a stiffener. They had half lagers and I had a whiskey. (I, who never go south of the river, had been by this busy corner four times recently – going and coming first to Marymount for a London Independent Schools Association conference in January and then again on the way to and from Gatwick for our Florida flight the following month.)
The sun was out again as we went around the corner to enter Richmond Park by the Robin Hood Gate. It took a long time to dodge the Sunday drivers as we crossed several streets and turned left on a horse ride. The traffic was stalled over on our left by the migration of a large herd of deer and we too had to pause to let them by – I don’t think I have ever been this close to wild animals on any of my walks; there must have been at least a hundred. They passed by a family of a second species (the park has both red and fallow deer); the grey chaps were lying in the grass while birds picked insects out of their skin.
As we climbed a hill, Tosh got pretty far behind looking for rock specimens, and Harold and I waited on some fallen logs at the top. I backtracked a little to look at a map in a car park and then we headed downhill into Isabella Plantation. This proved to be a surprising delight; an ornamental garden full of azaleas, camellias, magnolia, and heathers resplendent in spring pink, white, rust, and purple blossom. A lovely stream emptied into Peg’s Pond – where there were some exotic waterfowl as well.
We continued along Hamcross Wood (while the Lees were recounting tales of their recent visit to Iceland) and climbed a hill toward another car park and Pembroke Lodge. I entered the grounds to have a look (the place needed a coat of paint) while the Lees used the loos. Harold seemed to know this part of the world well and wanted to improvise a bit so I acquiesced. There were great views over the Thames valley now and we circled about looking for an exit from the park. We got lost a bit as we neared the Star and Garter Home (one vet in his wheelchair was sitting out front) because the guidebook tells you to use a path behind the home but not how to find it. While we were puzzling over this Harold headed off downhill on the road and we were soon at the bottom where Petersham Road comes in.
I suggested that we belonged closer to town and so we headed toward Richmond using a path and then some pavement along the road until I spotted the missing path descending across the street. This was our signal to look for an entrance to the Petersham Meadows on out left. This we found and, after rounding a corner, we were facing the Thames towpath itself. One last visit to the loos and we were in the crowds once again, walking under Richmond Bridge and looking for a likely place to have breakfast when we returned for the continuation of the route next time. We climbed up to the town itself on Water Lane and headed for the station, amazed at the large number of people about. Shops were open everywhere and we were observing a Sunday scene unimaginable in the Britain we knew twenty years ago. It was 4:30.
I accompanied the Lees onto the underground but they switched directions after a few stops to head west – and I continued on to Earl’s Court, where I took a Paddington train. A third change put me back on the Bakerloo line and I as home by 5:30
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: