Build me a houseboat in heaven

Pardon the imminent cliche, but Spring has officially sprung and there's no better way to celebrate the sprung spring in London than to go on a series of spring walks around town.

This week, I headed off to see how my beloved Regents Canal (the stretch from Wenlock Basin to Islington via the City Road Lock) was doing - and although I was a bit disappointed, it was worth sharing the experience anyway.

[click on pictures to enlarge]

As usual, you can't escape a tiny smattering of history on this blog. But the history of the canal has got so many interesting bits, I couldn't possibly do justice to it in one blog post. So, will suffice to inform those who do not know - the canal stretches from the Paddington arm of the Grand Union Canal in the north-west to the Limehouse basin and the Thames in the east. It was built in the early 1900's and was used primarily for the transport of goods. The City Road basin later became the most popular channel for goods transportation. And here's a small bit of history in a picture:

End of history lesson.

My own first encounter with Regents Canal was in 2006, when as a postgraduate student of city design, I was led to it after a shin-mutilating walk around London by my guide. Hidden behind the concrete monstrosities of the City and terraced housing for the most part, the sight of the canal that was almost straight out of the Enid Blytons I grew up reading, pleasantly surprised my aches away. This week, visiting the same spot after ages, I was shocked to see the spurt in construction activity around the Wenlock Basin. They've very nearly managed to kill the charm of the place. But that's not what this post is about. This is about the charm that still remains - the tunnels, for example.

The City Road Lock

Starting from Wenlock Basin, I was pleased to see that my old friend, the man under the bridge, was still around. I have been scared for him since I heard about the Towpath Tidy. They'll hit this patch on Saturday and I hope he stays. Though I did notice that he's now been joined by two friends on the new support column on the left:

Familiar? You might have seen him here earlier.

The towpaths are very popular for walkers, runners and cyclists. So popular, that there is actually a code of conduct for walkers and cyclists - the best one being the 'two ring' rule. Cyclists are supposed to ring their bell twice as they approach a pedestrian and pedestrians, in turn are expected to be listening for the two-rings. Cute!

Moving on towards City Road basin, I was saddened by the loss of towpath width as they build some new luxury flats (seriously, who's buying them anymore?) overlooking the canal. Gone are the benches and the trees facing the Royle Building - in their place stands ugly scaffolding. Pah! But I was determined to focus on the good bits - the (understandably annoyed) ducks and most of all, the quirky houseboats that are moored along the way.

I find houseboats immensely fascinating - a psychological leftover from my Enid Blytons, I guess. Her pre-teen characters were always having scones and marmalade in the middle of exciting pre-teen adventures sitting in houseboats (or getting kidnapped by the baddies and held in them). Although my own pre-teen self had never seen a houseboat, I had vividly imagined them and was delighted to be finally acquainted with my childhood fantasy in London. I still haven't been inside one (hint hint - for anyone reading this who happens to live in one) but I delight in studying them - some are pretty, almost dainty, very house-proud; some rough and reckless; others staid, simple and practical. The outside of a houseboat, I think, can be very telling of its inhabitants, much like gardens or backyards.

The houseboat study and the spring sun did much to lift my mood. It reminds me of a song by Townes Van Zandt called "Heavenly Houseboat Blues". The perfect accompaniment to this walk. I couldn't find the original, but here's a quirky cover by Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell for you to listen to, while going through the houseboat pictures again (try it!). Someone build me a houseboat!


UPDATE: If you find London's canals an inspiration for tapping your creativity (like I do), you might want to join the Slowdown London Festival's Canal Write program on the 2nd of May. Check it out!

A brief walk down Hammersmith Bridge

This post is for my father, who's retiring this month, after spending nearly 45 years in a brilliant career as a civil and structural engineer - a career that took him all over the world and made him one of the best known and regarded names in his field in India and abroad. His MSc thesis was on bridges. I'm sure he'll have an opinion on this bridge too when he sees this. :)

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One of the things I love about London is how small and large pieces of history litter the city wherever you look. Sometimes a simple street corner will reveal layers - peel after peel of interesting stories - if you only care to look and listen. Sometimes history will manifest itself in a grand architectural monolith that persists - oblivious of change all around it, resistant to destruction, defying centuries full of instances of human madness. Of several such examples around London, the Hammersmith Bridge is one.

The first time I saw this bridge, about two years back, I was startled by its very greenness. My very first reaction to it was somewhere along the lines of "Oh God, what a monstrosity", but there's something about this bridge that grows on you. (Grows, greenness - ha ha! Alright, never mind.)

(click on pictures to enlarge)

The bridge has a very interesting history. It was the first suspension bridge across the Thames, commissioned by an Act of Parliament in 1824, designed by William Tierney Clarke. In that incarnation, it was a stone bridge with two towers with Tuscan arched entrances standing over two brick piers. The bridge was hugely popular for watching the famous University Boat Race on the Thames, and started to become alarmingly overloaded with traffic and people. It was closed down in 1884 and rebuilt by Sir Joseph Bazalgette (hailed by many as the builder of modern London) to its current incarnation in 1887. The new bridge, which to date, still rests on the same brick piers of Tierney Clarke's structure now had a wrought iron structure, clad in ornamental cast iron casings that were redecorated in its trademark green and gold.

However, it's not all been smooth sailing for the bridge (river, boat race, sailing...haha! OK, no more!). Over time it has had several structural enhancements as it grew older and as traffic increased. It now has a 7.5 ton limit on traffic and has a barricaded entrance for buses which ensures that at no point does the load on the bridge become dangerous.

And then there were the bombings. The IRA (Irish Republican Army) and its offspring seem to have a particular grouse against this bridge. (At this point I am resisting a very strong urge to crack yet another pertaining to the colour green and the Irish...).

In 1939, the IRA planted a bomb in a suitcase, which was discovered and calmly chucked over the rails into the river by passerby Maurice Childs, a hairdresser from nearby Chiswick. The resulting explosion sent up a 60 feet high column of water and Mr Childs recieved an MBE. A second bomb however, did explode, causing damages but repairs were soon made. The next attempt came in 1996, again, by the Provisional IRA, which was foiled. In June 2000, however, a bomb planted by the Real IRA exploded causing extensive damage that led to the bridge being closed for two years.

It was in this phase of repairs that lighting was installed along the bridge, and it looks pretty dramatic at night, all lit up. I'm afraid I don't have a shot of it at night, but I'll endeavour to update this post with one soon. (Time to have a late eveing pint at one of the riverside pubs next to the bridge).

What I do have for you instead, is a shot of rowers practicing for the boat race, who passed underneath just as I was in the middle of the bridge. Talk about serendipity. The 2009 race starts on March 29th.

Legend has it that at the opening of construction in 1825, the then Duke of Sussex, Augustus Frederick performed an elaborate ritual: He fixed a brass plate engraved with glowing praises for all those involved over one of the coffer dams that had been filled with nothing less than gold coins and a silver trowel. As it was fixed, he poured corn over it, grandly enunciating:

"I have poured the corn, the oil and the wine, emblems of wealth, plenty and comfort, so may the bridge tend to communicate prosperity and wealth"

Ahem. And I thought Indians tended to be overly ritualistic and grandiloquent.

Colourful history and resilience of the bridge aside, I still cannot make up my mind about it. I don't hate it, but I certainly do not love it either - I'm not sure the swirly green and gold trimmings are to my taste. What do you think?

A secret way to pause

I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be telling everyone about this pristine patch of verdant riverside, a protected piece of natural heritage that lies almost in the middle of London. Heck, it's my very own private secret, shared with a bunch of other Chiswick residents and well, perhaps a bunch of Barnes-ers on the other side of the river. But since I promised, here goes. Sigh.

If you haven't seen the map of London and happen to be around the mad Hogarth Roundabout on the A4, I bet you'll saw your arm off if I tell you that you could get to this if you walk southwards for less than five minutes.

(click on pictures to enlarge)

You'll get your first glimpse of the Thames, surprisingly close and within reach, as you hit the Chiswick Mall - a pretty road lined with houses from various periods - some as old as the 15th Century! Then you'll realise that the A4 seems far away - the sounds of traffic are replaced by those of lapping water, the ducks, gulls and other birds, and well, the occasional huffing runner or cycler. The Mall gets partially flooded in high tide and you can see ducks happily floating around on what was a tarmaced road a few hours back! In low tide you can walk down to the rocky riverbeach with a book or a camera or just your solitude.

The Mall continues down the embankment that follows the curve of the river. Along this sit gated housing estates, a boating club, a posh cafe, and a Church with a cemetery (which I'm saving for yet another post).

Some of these houses have their private gardens across the Mall - overlooking the river. Oh my, how I'd love to own one of these quaint little patches, never mind a house to go with it.

On the other side is the river, and the Chiswick Pier, where I've spent many an hour just listening to the sounds of the river (broken by the roar of an airplane on descent course to Heathrow, every few minutes. Aarrgh.)

The occasional raft will speed by, sending the gulls flapping. You might occasionally meet someone mooring their houseboat here. At times, you might come across someone feeding the gulls. You could watch the sun go down behind Dukes Meadows. Or you just might be 'accompanied' by another soul simply mesmerised by the river.

And then you get to the Thames Path - the protected National Trail that goes all the way down the river to almost as far as you care to walk - well, actually upto Greenwich via Battersea. You would need a sturdy pair of legs to walk that. Adjoining the path lies the Dukes Meadows, that I wrote about here. This is the stretch that's my favourite - nothing else in London calms me down or gives me a pick-up when I need it the most.

The little fluffball at the back was valiantly trying to 'scare' me at this point, sending me into a fit of giggles. That agitated him even more, but he was called off by his laughing owner before he could do anything about it. Oh my.

I feel lucky to live within minutes of this divine patch. It gives me the perfect excuse to pause and reflect, to take a break from my urban life, to recharge my batteries. You should do that too, but hey, go find your own! :)