Time to backtrack to Hampstead to follow the western branch of the Fleet down to Camden. The groundwaters of the upper Fleet amass beneath the steep slopes to the west of Hampstead Heath, once bursting to the surface via springs and the Chalybeate Well (pictured). In 1701 these iron-rich waters were exploited by local landowner John Duffield who laid out a fashionable spa along Well Walk, and people came from far and wide to enjoy music and dancing (and the tavern and gambling dens outside). This area was later covered by dark tree-lined avenues of luxury mansions, and has for several centuries been home to the artistic and wealthy. JohnConstable, for example, lived out the last ten years of his life at number 40 Well Walk, while more recent local residents include Boy George and Esther Rantzen. Walking the elegant hillside avenues, I can well see the attraction.
The northwestern source of the river Fleet lies in the Vale of Health. Sounds lovely doesn't it, and today it is, but 300 years ago this was "a stagnate bottom, a pit in the heath" and an unhealthy mosquito-ridden spot. We're up around the highest point on Hampstead Heath, beneath the road that joins Jack Straw'sCastle (giant old pub, now housing development) to Spaniard'sInn (even older and more historic pub, with tollgate that narrows the main road to a single carriageway). The boggy marshland here was drained in 1777 to create a small reservoir and the name was changed too, from Hatch's Bottom to the rather more sanitary Vale of Health. A tiny secluded village grew up above the pond, attracting such esteemed residents as James Leigh Hunt [romantic poet], Stella Gibbons [Cold Comfort Farm] and DH Lawrence [Lady Chatterley et al], and even Byron and Shelley once shared a cottage here. It's still a gorgeous (and unexpected) middle class enclave, complete with old black lampposts and winding alleyways, but also with sky-high house prices to match.
The pond at the Vale of Health is a marvellous place to stop, pause and reflect. I know because I've tried on three separate occasions to take a photograph of one particular lakeside view, only to be edged out by fishermen, snogging couples or fierce-looking men with giant unleashed dogs. The swans don't seem troubled by all the attention, however, nor the local residents peering out from their exclusive waterside gardens. In the southern corner is a small muddy beach, down where the yellow irises bloom. Here I spotted a seemingly insignificant rivulet of water exiting the pond and disappearing into a low hole beneath a metal drain cover. Following the contours downhill I discovered a tiny stream hidden deep in the undergrowth - the Fleet valley in miniature. For a magical 100 metres I tracked the river beneath a leafy oak canopy, descending through the bracken, tumbling beneath fallen branches. Here, well away from any well-trodden path, the fledgling river Fleet descends much as it must have done for hundreds of thousands of years, untouched and unspoilt. Sssh, don't tell everybody.
Reviewing the Fleet
Time to backtrack to Hampstead to follow the western branch of the Fleet down to Camden. The groundwaters of the upper Fleet amass beneath the steep slopes to the west of Hampstead Heath, once bursting to the surface via springs and the Chalybeate Well (pictured). In 1701 these iron-rich waters were exploited by local landowner John Duffield who laid out a fashionable spa along Well Walk, and people came from far and wide to enjoy music and dancing (and the tavern and gambling dens outside). This area was later covered by dark tree-lined avenues of luxury mansions, and has for several centuries been home to the artistic and wealthy. John Constable, for example, lived out the last ten years of his life at number 40 Well Walk, while more recent local residents include Boy George and Esther Rantzen. Walking the elegant hillside avenues, I can well see the attraction.
The pond at the Vale of Health is a marvellous place to stop, pause and reflect. I know because I've tried on three separate occasions to take a photograph of one particular lakeside view, only to be edged out by fishermen, snogging couples or fierce-looking men with giant unleashed dogs. The swans don't seem troubled by all the attention, however, nor the local residents peering out from their exclusive waterside gardens. In the southern corner is a small muddy beach, down where the yellow irises bloom. Here I spotted a seemingly insignificant rivulet of water exiting the pond and disappearing into a low hole beneath a metal drain cover. Following the contours downhill I discovered a tiny stream hidden deep in the undergrowth - the Fleet valley in miniature. For a magical 100 metres I tracked the river beneath a leafy oak canopy, descending through the bracken, tumbling beneath fallen branches. Here, well away from any well-trodden path, the fledgling river Fleet descends much as it must have done for hundreds of thousands of years, untouched and unspoilt. Sssh, don't tell everybody.
Reviewing the Fleet
Time to backtrack to 
The pond at the Vale of Health is a marvellous place to 