Walking the Lea Valley 10: MARSHY-LEA Tottenham Hale → Hackney Marsh(3 miles)
If you want to access the Lea via the Underground, head for Tottenham Hale. The tiled murals on the Victoria line platforms show the medieval ferry that used to exist here, whereas a modern design would probably show Tottenham Lock and its tall alien-looking lamppost [photo]. There are two parallel locks, only one of which is currently operational, so it was fun watching a day-tripping narrowboat heading ignorantly into the wrong one and then attempting to manoeuvre some kind of three point turn into the other.
Downstream, from here almost to the Olympic Stadium, there's a very distinct land use pattern. To the west of the canalised river the banks are mostly residential, and modern residential at that. There'd once have been plenty of industry here but most of that's long moved on, and anyway, waterside property's where it's at these days. Some are older Hackney-slope habitations, some are more recent labyrinthine estates, and some are speculative glass-and-steel developments that enthuse 21st century estate agents. In contrast, nobody at all lives on the opposite, eastern, bank (not unless they're afloat). The broad Lea floodplain is far too risky for any major settlement so the space is given over to reservoirs and marshland. This is good news for wildfowl and nature-lovers, and means the view from bedrooms and balconies opposite is generally rather lovely.
The first greenspace on my walk down from Tottenham was at Markfield Park. It's recently been given a multi-million pound makeover by the local council, and is scheduled to be officially 'reopened' in a fortnight's time. At the heart of the regeneration is the Markfield Beam Engine Museum, formerly the sewage treatment works for the surrounding area, and housing a (fully functioning, eventually) Victorian Steam Pump. There's further evidence of the industrial past as Haringey made way for Hackney, with the triangular timber-loading cranes of Oak Wharf jutting out across the river [photo]. I passed a large number of Orthodox Jewish families along this stretch, out enjoying a towpath walk and wearing their Saturday best (of black, black hats and more black).
Walthamstow Marshes: The arrival of this wide open space was signalled by a rowing club, a cafe and a marina[photo]. All were bustling in the August sunshine, although most visitors seemed happy to watch the on-stream oarsmanship with a cup of tea or baguette in hand. I made a brief diversion along the edge of the Coppermill Stream to visit what may be London's lowest bridge [photo]. Anybody taller than 5'0" needs to duck to get beneath the railway, although it's possible to speed beneath on a bike if you limbo sufficiently low. That's perhaps just as well, given that this obstruction lies on Sustrans National Cycle Route 1. The marsh was ablaze with wildflowers, although some of the long grass had recently been cut for Lammas (following an age-old tradition) and lay piled up in slowly-yellowing haybales. Horses trotted across a diagonal bridleway, delighted dogs bounded about in the undergrowth, and an army of unseen amphibians lurked deep in limpid creeks. There was a barbecue in full swing at the Anchor & Hope at the foot of Harrington Hill - the pub unreachable except via a mighty long footbridge detour. And trains rumbled regularly across the valley over the A.V. Roe arches, which I'd visited only last month on the centenary of Britain's first home-powered aeroplane flight. Already a fence had gone up to seal off his empty workshop space, but a fresh blue plaque enticed passers-by over to view this historic site beneath the viaduct [photo]. But there was so much more on the Marshes that was unmarked, unlabelled, yet equally special. East London's very lucky to have them.
There are so few bridges across the river that Lea Bridge gets away with pretending it's the only one. Stacks more shiny apartments were going up where road meets water, ideally located for Dancing On Ice audience members who'd like to be within skating distance of the Lee Valley Ice Centre. The riverside pub here used to be called the Prince of Wales, but changed sex following a Parisian car crash in 1997. A little further south were the Middlesex Filter Beds, laid down in the 1850s to help provide Londoners with cholera-free water. They're no longer required, and have been transformed into a variety of reedy woody habitats ideal for cultivating wildlife. Human visitors tended to be less well behaved, I noted, noisily picknicking amid the sculptures and flagrantly ignoring the sign saying "dogs must be kept on a leash".
Hackney Marshes: Next up, London's largest sports ground [photo]. There are 80-odd full-sized football pitches on Hackney Marshes - rammed with filthy footballers every Sunday, but ghostly silent for most of the rest of the week. Matches resume next week, if you want to pop down and hear grown men swear. This isn't a true marsh, having been comprehensively drained in medieval times, hence its suitability for the playing of ballgames. Leyton FC started out here, before they went all Orient, but they were based a bit further east. The Lea Valley Walk followed the western edge, with a choice of cyclepath or fenced off towpath - which didn't make for the most exciting route. But, at a bend near the Cow Bridge footbridge, came the first sight of cranes and a crown of white metal beams. Not far now to the Olympic Stadium... and don't forget that 2012 will be coming to Hackney Marshes too, because every world-class Games needs a carpark.
Walking the Lea Valley
Downstream, from here almost to the Olympic Stadium, there's a very distinct land use pattern. To the west of the canalised river the banks are mostly residential, and modern residential at that. There'd once have been plenty of industry here but most of that's long moved on, and anyway, waterside property's where it's at these days. Some are older Hackney-slope habitations, some are more recent labyrinthine estates, and some are speculative glass-and-steel developments that enthuse 21st century estate agents. In contrast, nobody at all lives on the opposite, eastern, bank (not unless they're afloat). The broad Lea floodplain is far too risky for any major settlement so the space is given over to reservoirs and marshland. This is good news for wildfowl and nature-lovers, and means the view from bedrooms and balconies opposite is generally rather lovely.
Walthamstow Marshes: The arrival of this wide open space was signalled by a rowing club, a cafe and a marina [photo]. All were bustling in the August sunshine, although most visitors seemed happy to watch the on-stream oarsmanship with a cup of tea or baguette in hand. I made a brief diversion along the edge of the Coppermill Stream to visit what may be London's lowest bridge [photo]. Anybody taller than 5'0" needs to duck to get beneath the railway, although it's possible to speed beneath on a bike if you limbo sufficiently low. That's perhaps just as well, given that this obstruction lies on Sustrans National Cycle Route 1. The marsh was ablaze with wildflowers, although some of the long grass had recently been cut for Lammas (following an age-old tradition) and lay piled up in slowly-yellowing haybales. Horses trotted across a diagonal bridleway, delighted dogs bounded about in the undergrowth, and an army of unseen amphibians lurked deep in limpid creeks. There was a barbecue in full swing at the Anchor & Hope at the foot of Harrington Hill - the pub unreachable except via a mighty long footbridge detour. And trains rumbled regularly across the valley over the A.V. Roe arches, which I'd visited only last month on the centenary of Britain's first home-powered aeroplane flight. Already a fence had gone up to seal off his empty workshop space, but a fresh blue plaque enticed passers-by over to view this historic site beneath the viaduct [photo]. But there was so much more on the Marshes that was unmarked, unlabelled, yet equally special. East London's very lucky to have them.
There are so few bridges across the river that Lea Bridge gets away with pretending it's the only one. Stacks more shiny apartments were going up where road meets water, ideally located for Dancing On Ice audience members who'd like to be within skating distance of the Lee Valley Ice Centre. The riverside pub here used to be called the Prince of Wales, but changed sex following a Parisian car crash in 1997. A little further south were the Middlesex Filter Beds, laid down in the 1850s to help provide Londoners with cholera-free water. They're no longer required, and have been transformed into a variety of reedy woody habitats ideal for cultivating wildlife. Human visitors tended to be less well behaved, I noted, noisily picknicking amid the sculptures and flagrantly ignoring the sign saying "dogs must be kept on a leash".
