Walking the Lea Valley 4: STATE-LEA Wheathampstead → Welwyn(4 miles)
It didn't take long to reach the outskirts of Wheathampstead, and then the relentless countryside began again. A fingerpost on the edge of town offered walkers a choice between "Lea Valley Walk, Waterend Ford" and "Meads Dell, Old Sewage Works". The direction of travel was clear. The footpath soon shifted away from the riverbank, now barriered off for the exclusive use of anglers, then nipped beneath a bypass into a silent field. Here was another fence, this time to protect water voles from human and canine attention - although most of the fuss appeared to be coming from a flock of swallows swooping down from overhead wires into the stream. Only a few elusive meanders were visible before the Lea emerged at a ford beside Water End Farm (mmm, Jacobean brick chimneys). A few inches of trickle slid beneath the road before rippling serenely onward into weedy shallows.
Brocket Hall: The great thing about public footpaths is that they sometimes take you right through the middle of places you wouldn't normally be allowed to go. In this case that's the grounds of a stately home, the 250-year-old Brocket Hall[photo]. Two Victorian Prime Ministers once lived here - Melbourne and Palmerston - and both are now commemorated by having golf courses named after them. The most famous recent resident is I'm a Celebrity celebrity Lord Brocket, who rose to fraudulent notoriety when he pretended some of his collection of Ferraris had been stolen. His financial downfall goes some way to explain why Brocket Hall is now a hotel and conference centre, seemingly packed with foreign golfers on my visit. I followed the Lea Valley Walk across the fairway and past the mainhouse, before deliberately heading off the main route to visit the lake. You have to visit the lake, it's landscaped gorgeousness [photo], and the most majestic the Lea ever gets at any point on its journey to the Thames. A Palladian bridge, a tumbling weir [photo] and lots of waterlilies - proof that the very rich and the very naughty get all the bestviews.
Several acres later the path emerged at Lemsford village, once described by Queen Elizabeth I as 'the prettiest village in England'. Currentevidence suggests that she may have been over-stating the case (but she lived only two miles away for much of her early life, and I guess she didn't get out much). The watermill's sort of pretty [photo], and was reputedly immortalised in the music hall song "There's an old mill by the stream, Nellie Dean". No, I can't say I have it on iTunes either. If you're out walking this stretch you might prefer to stop off at the riverside SunInn, not least because it's the first place for miles to sell Old Peculiar and chips. I resisted, and headed on through horsey paddocks over some rare stiles (one with an electric cable threaded under the lower step).
Next obstacle to cross, the A1(M). I missed the sign diverting me along half a mile of pavement, and instead followed the 'obvious' route through a letterbox-shaped tunnel beneath the motorway. Mistake. The river was high, the path was low, and on the far side the one had over-topped the other. No matter, I thought, it's a proper footpath, the water can't be that deep. It wasn't to start with, then the concrete surface fell away and I found myself treading in ever-deeper shallows. A series of rocky tiles and tottering bricks provided a part-submerged assault course for the final stretch [photo], and I was relieved that nobody was watching my cack-footed attempts to get across. Thankfully I didn't quite fall in, and my socks stayed perfectly dry as my walking boots convincingly proved their waterproofness.
Stanborough Park: Gouged out during construction of the A(1)M in the 1970s, two neighbouring gravel pits were later flooded to create this rather pleasantcountry park. There are two large lakes, the north for relaxed recreation and the south for sportier activities. Hundreds of Welwyn Garden City's younger residents were paddling around the edge of the north lake, many with those tiny dippy fishing nets you might once have used to trawl for sticklebacks. Others had taken to the water in rowing boats, in contrast to the more serious yachters on the southern lake. Here too were rather a lot of fishermen (and no fisherwomen, we've discussed that already), dangling their maggoty rods into the water attempting to ensnare the odd bream or carp [photo]. Between the two lakes another low underpass, this time safely dry, plus a café-cum-refreshment kiosk that sold me a scarily artificial orange ice lolly. All this plus the River Lea S-bending along the lakeside banks, before heading off south through a reedy nature reserve. I followed through an old brick tunnel beneath the East Coast Mainline, then on through quiet lanes towards Hatfield.
Walking the Lea Valley
It didn't take long to reach the outskirts of Wheathampstead, and then the relentless countryside began again. A fingerpost on the edge of town offered walkers a choice between "Lea Valley Walk, Waterend Ford" and "Meads Dell, Old Sewage Works". The direction of travel was clear. The footpath soon shifted away from the riverbank, now barriered off for the exclusive use of anglers, then nipped beneath a bypass into a silent field. Here was another fence, this time to protect water voles from human and canine attention - although most of the fuss appeared to be coming from a flock of swallows swooping down from overhead wires into the stream. Only a few elusive meanders were visible before the Lea emerged at a ford beside Water End Farm (mmm, Jacobean brick chimneys). A few inches of trickle slid beneath the road before rippling serenely onward into weedy shallows.
Brocket Hall: The great thing about public footpaths is that they sometimes take you right through the middle of places you wouldn't normally be allowed to go. In this case that's the grounds of a stately home, the 250-year-old Brocket Hall [photo]. Two Victorian Prime Ministers once lived here - Melbourne and Palmerston - and both are now commemorated by having golf courses named after them. The most famous recent resident is I'm a Celebrity celebrity Lord Brocket, who rose to fraudulent notoriety when he pretended some of his collection of Ferraris had been stolen. His financial downfall goes some way to explain why Brocket Hall is now a hotel and conference centre, seemingly packed with foreign golfers on my visit. I followed the Lea Valley Walk across the fairway and past the main house, before deliberately heading off the main route to visit the lake. You have to visit the lake, it's landscaped gorgeousness [photo], and the most majestic the Lea ever gets at any point on its journey to the Thames. A Palladian bridge, a tumbling weir [photo] and lots of waterlilies - proof that the very rich and the very naughty get all the best views.
Next obstacle to cross, the A1(M). I missed the sign diverting me along half a mile of pavement, and instead followed the 'obvious' route through a letterbox-shaped tunnel beneath the motorway. Mistake. The river was high, the path was low, and on the far side the one had over-topped the other. No matter, I thought, it's a proper footpath, the water can't be that deep. It wasn't to start with, then the concrete surface fell away and I found myself treading in ever-deeper shallows. A series of rocky tiles and tottering bricks provided a part-submerged assault course for the final stretch [photo], and I was relieved that nobody was watching my cack-footed attempts to get across. Thankfully I didn't quite fall in, and my socks stayed perfectly dry as my walking boots convincingly proved their waterproofness.
