Yesterday the Conservative Party (finally) launched its London Mayoral Candidate shortlist. It's a list of four right-on souls, one of whom will be selected to stand against Ken for Mayor in London-wide elections next spring. How very exciting. The Conservatives have taken months longer than expected to reach the shortlisting stage because insufficient major figures put their name forward for this prestigious post. Things were so desperate that not even DJ Mike Read could be persuaded to put his name forward. But now we have four successful applicants. One is Boris Johnson, about whom we all already know too much. But who are the other three? I wasn't sure, so I've been to each candidate's own website to check up on their opinions and policies. Here's my (clickable) guide to the potential future face of true blue London.
3) Andrew Boff Website:www.andrewboff.com But there's nothing on that website, just some dripping water and the phrase "be patient". That's not very impressive for someone who runs his own IT company, is it?Er, no.
So, there are the non-Boris three. It's important to be fully briefed on their backgrounds because every registered London voter will be allowed to take part in the next stage of the selection process. Yes, even non-Tory voters can apply for a ballot form, which sounds like a desperately risky strategy to me. David Cameron must be keeping his fingers crossed that Labour and LibDem voters don't gang together and vote for the least electable candidate, just for a laugh. The election continues over the summer, with the Conservative Mayoral candidate finally announced in September. It'll be Boris, obviously. But hey, let's give the other three their chance. Even if nobody stands a chance against Ken anyway.
Friday, 20 July, 2007
I SPY LONDON the definitive DG guide to London's sights-worth-seeing Part 19:The Tower Bridge Exhibition
Location: Tower Bridge, SE1 2UP [map] Open: 10am - 6:30pm (half an hour earlier from October to March) Admission: £6.00 5-word summary: iconic bridge and engineering marvel Website:http://www.towerbridge.org.uk Time to set aside: an hour and a bit
Tower Bridge was opened in 1894, the response to a very particular design brief - how best to relieve road traffic across the Thames downstream of London Bridge whilst still permitting ships access to the Pool of London? Horace Jones' twin-towered bascule bridge provided the ideal solution - both practical and elegant - and unwittingly created a national icon. Few world landmarks have a more recognisable silhouette than Tower Bridge. The briefest sight of this multi-storey marvel in a film, TV report or photograph announces "This is London" to even the most casual observer. Maybe that's why the bridge is permamently swarming with tourists from every continent, each intent on capturing theperfectimage whilst simultaneously blocking the pavement and the sightline of others.
The very best time to visit, unless you're in a vehicle, is when the bridge is being raised. This happens surprisingly frequently, up to 1000 times a year, and yet it's an event I saw for the first time only last weekend. By pure fluke I happened to be at the entrance to the central span of the bridge when the siren went, the traffic halted and the pedestrian gate was closed in front of me. Damned exciting stuff! The bridgemaster waited until everything was clear - no chance of any death-defying gap-jumping here - and gave the signal from within his pierside command cabin. The two halves of the roadway clicked apart and quivered gently into the air. Slowly, but surely, they lifted to their maximum elevation - 86 degrees to the horizontal. And then, much to the delight of the crowds now thronging the piers, a twin-masted sailing ship cast off from its moorings beside HMS Belfast and sailed majestically (just) beneath the bridge's gothic portal. There's a sight you don't see every day. And then the roadway lowered slowly back into place before repeated sirens indicated that it was safe to cross again. Up and down in ten minutes flat. Why leave such magical London encounters to chance? The Tower Bridge website lists every scheduled bridge lift for the forseeable future, which is cracking inside knowledge for anyone with a camera (or any commuter attempting to take the bus from Liverpool Street to Bermondsey).
The bridge used to be raised far more frequently, and until 1912 there was an alternative public route for pedestrians to make their crossing. Each tower contains a double stairwell, four storeys high, up to a pair of metal walkways strung across the gap 140 feet above the water. This must have been a lengthy and strenuous detour, but Victorians were made of stern stuff. And the view from the top was fantastic. Which is why, just 25 years ago, the upper walkways were glazed over and reopened to tourists. You'll find the entrance on the upstream side of the northern pier. Pay up, pass through the security patdown, and wait for the lift. They don't let you walk up the stairs any more, oh no, presumably because the majority of potential visitors couldn't.
At the top of the towers are two large screens displaying looped information films, one detailing the bridge's construction and the other a century of Tower-ing greatness. Each presentation looks very dated - more a subtitled slideshow than a major multimedia experience. Look up and you can peer inside the spotlit turret, where a few plastic workmen have been positioned in an attempt to create some authentic 1890s atmosphere. Rather more exciting are the two latticed walkways across the river, up at flag-fluttering level. Ignore the row of information panels (unless it's foggy) and concentrate on the view. Downstream there's Canary Wharf, Butler's Wharf and the grand sweep of the Thames curving between Wapping and Rotherhithe. And upstream <switch walkways> there's City Hall, HMS Belfast, the Towerof London and the majestic City skyline. There are even special sliding windows in the glass to allow you and your camera an obstruction-free perspective across the panorama below. It's a view few Londoners bother to see. Their loss.
Back to the south tower to wait for the lift down to ground level, where the doors unexpectedly open straight out onto the pavement. Part two of your six quid visit continues beneath the roadway at the southern end of the bridge, at the end of a painted blue line. Make sure you haven't lost your ticket - you'll need it to get into the Engine Rooms. No prizes for guessing what you're going to see here. Steam engines, hydraulic pumps and whirly Victorian shiny things - i.e. all of the original mechanisms that used to power the raising and lowering of the bridge. The exhibit's not a thriller, but it is a slice of true London's technological history. Electricity took over fairly recently, in 1976 to be precise, and now the bridge goes up and down at the touch of a button. Sorry, but you won't necessarily get to see this happen for the admission price, you just have to get lucky. Or do a bit of research first. by tube: Tower Hillby DLR: Tower Gatewayby bus: 42, 78, RV1
Anyone fancy running a railway? Because you couldn't do much worse than the gibbons who are running the London Underground at the moment. I'm talking about the tube's maintenance and renovation contracts here, and I'm talking the commercial disaster area that is Metronet. They thought repairing track and re-tiling stations would be easy. They thought it would be risk-free to cream off profits at the taxpayer's expense. They thought they had a 30 year licence to print money. They were wrong. And now they're paying.
Metronet has responsibility for maintaining nine of London's 12 tube lines. They look after rolling stock, stations, track, tunnels and signals, and are also in charge of upgrading the network. Do it well and they get paid handsomely, but get it wrong and there are heavy financial penalties. Unfortunately, for shareholders at least, a repeated string of incompetent balls-ups doesn't pay well. Unstressed rails buckling in the sun. Frozen points and snowy signal failures. Misplaced equipment derailing passing trains. Overnight engineering work over-running. Etc etc. So yesterday the independent PPP arbiter ruled that Metronet couldn't have lots of additional money to pay off a £2bn overspend, and now the company faces bankruptcy. Hoo bloody rah.
I see this as divine judgement for all the agonies that I, and three-quarters of the network, have suffered over the last 4 years. Metronet started their station renovation program at my local tube station, and made an almighty mess of it. They forced the station to close early when there was bugger all going on inside. They treated heritage features with contempt. They failed repeatedly to complete work to agreed quality thresholds. And they took 20 months to finally finish everything, whereas they were only scheduled to take eight. Two years later, and Bow Road isn't the only station they've botched. Have you been to Epping recently, or Ruislip Manor or Chigwell or Turnham Green or White City or Great Portland Street or Theydon Bois or Chiswick Park? Probably best not to look around too carefully. It's amazing that Metronet have limped on this far, to be honest. Their fall from grace is sweet justice.
But if/when Metronet collapses, there's going to be a downside. All that renovation work still needs doing, there'll just be nobody left to complete it. TfL will have to carry the can for the forseeable future, spending millions of pounds they'd earmarked for other projects. Various stations that are currently mid-re-tile will end up looking a mess for even longer. Metronet's five funding partners are going to have to write-off massive losses (and that's bad for me because one of them supplies my water and another my electricity). And thousands of Metronet's employees are likely to be out of a job, which is a shame because it's not your fault if your boss is rubbish (although perhaps you ought to have noticed by now).
Foreign investors are already circling like vultures, eager to snap up Metronet's leftovers. But I hope that somebody somewhere sees sense and takes this opportunity to pull the plug on these over-generous 30-year infraco contracts. Even TubeLines, responsible for upgrading the rest of the network, hasn't been doing the job terribly well - just relatively better. Why are we giving huge amounts of public cash to private investors? Surely their profits could be better spent on new trains and a decent lick of paint? It may be too late for Bow Road, but London needs to make a better job of protecting and restoring what ought to be the finest underground railway in the world.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Inconvenience - a play in two parts
Scene 1: Southwark Cathedral It's Saturday, and my brother and his family are down from Norfolk for the day. We've paused for lunch at Borough Market, where we've purchased organic burgers and fresh pancake-y things, and now we're sat munching them in Southwark Cathedral churchyard. Youngest nephew: I need to go to the toilet. I need to go now. Anxious Mum: Oh great, that'll be urgent then. Can somebody accompany him to a nearby toilet? Devoted uncle: Come on youngest nephew, let's go and find a toilet. Erm, surely there's one around here somewhere. Youngest nephew: I really need to go to the toilet. I really need to go now. Devoted uncle: Erm, I can't see a toilet in the market. And I can't see any signs for toilets anywhere. Maybe there'll be one inside the cathedral. Youngest nephew: I really really need to go to the toilet. I really really need to go now. Devoted uncle: Ah brilliant, there's a publicly accessible gents toilet in the cathedral's rear extension, down these steps. Perfect. Let's open the door and go in. An unclean heavily-bearded man is crouched by the sink opposite the urinals. It's not precisely clear what he's up to, but it's not pleasant. He's already peeled off his trousers and boots, revealing scabby legs completely covered in coin-sized red blisters. He smiles, in a kindly but slightly demonic way. He is not an attractive sight. Bearded devil: Don't be afraid. Do come in. Youngest nephew: I don't need to go to the toilet. Let's go now.
Scene 2: London Bridge station We've gulped down the remainder of our lunch, and have hurried off in search of a toilet at the nearby station. Because all stations have toilets. Youngest nephew: I need to go to the toilet. I need to go now. Resourceful dad: Damn, the main toilets are on the other side of the ticket barrier. But come this way, because that sign says there's another toilet beside Platform 13. A few minutes later... Resourceful dad: There isn't a toilet anywhere near Platform 13, or if there is I can't find it. Youngest nephew: I really need to go to the toilet. I really need to go now. Anxious mum: There's a superloo here on the pavement by the bus station, except there's a queue of seven people waiting to use it. We'll never get inside in time. Youngest nephew: I really really need to go to the toilet. I really really need to go now. Resourceful dad: Hang on, I've spotted a poster for McDonalds over there. It's only 2 minutes away. They'll have a toilet I can get you into. A few minutes later... Resourceful dad (beaming): Success! But I can't believe how difficult that was. Devoted uncle: It's coming to something when you have to rely on a much maligned multinational company to provide adequate public facilities for performing a bodily function all humans require. Youngest nephew: Can I have a drink please?
Sunday, July 15, 2007
I SPY LONDON the definitive DG guide to London's sights-worth-seeing Part 18:London Zoo
Location: Regent's Park, NW1 4RY [map] Open: 10am - 5:30pm (closes earlier in winter) Admission: £14.50 (plus optional £1.50 donation) 5-word summary: historic (but expensive) beast-packed menagerie Website:http://www.zsl.org/zsl-london-zoo Time to set aside: a day
London Zoo is the oldest scientific zoo in the world, opened in 1828, and occupies a triangle of land in the top right corner of Regent's Park. The zoo is rammed full of grunting squawking beasties, 651 species in total, and every day a 652nd species queues at the entrance gate to come inside and take a look around. It costs a fortune to buy tickets, not helped by an additional £1.50 "optional" donation slapped onto the admission price, and a family of 4 shouldn't expect to see change from £50. But where else in London are you going to see lions, tigers and giraffes? And penguins and zebras? And ickle cutesy-wutesy meerkats? Just remember that all the "big" animals such as elephants, rhinos and cheetahs are housed up the M1 at Whipsnade instead, so don't be disappointed when you don't see any. And don't visit if the Victorian concept of caged animals makes you feel uneasy.
To get the most out of a visit to London Zoo you need to arrive early and keep moving. There are a very large number of enclosures, cages and exhibits crammed into 36 acres, and it's a bit galling to get home, look at the map and notice that you missed something. Follow the green line painted on the paths and you should stumble across most of the creatures housed within. But don't expect to see every animal along your journey. Many spend much of the day asleep, or lurking in their indoor quarters, and it can be quite a challenge to spot them stalking out and about.
The zoo's newest attraction, opened in March, is Gorilla Kingdom. Essentially it's just a very big enclosure housing three gorillas, but laid out like an African forest clearing with a wiggly pedestrian walkway around the perimeter. Nobody stops to peer into the monkey cages alongside, they're all too busy peering across the moat or through the glass wall to see if the large female is waving her hairy backside at the crowds again. Other new geographical-based habitats include a Rainforest Lookout (packed with "small animals") and an African Bird Safari (a posh name for a mini-aviary). Elsewhere you can now walk through an enclosure swarming with squirrel monkeys, and stroll through a heated tunnel full of giant flapping butterflies. Integration is the zoo's latest watchword, and each new development is moving gradually away from "one cage, one animal".
Several old-style enclosures remain. The giraffes still live in Decimus Burton's 1836 Giraffe House whose simple functional design is very much fit for purpose even in the 21st century. The flamingo pond is even older, not that you'd ever guess. The gloomy Reptile House looks every bit of 80 years old, however, with its slimy inhabitants slithering around inside compact glass-fronted prisons. The owls roost forgotten inside a row of dreary cages to the north of the canal. The bears have been rather luckier. They have a fake terraced mountainside to lumber across, unexpectedly expansive, complete with four concrete peaks and a nice view of the cafe.
Finest of all the zoo's architecture is surely the Lubetkin Penguin Pool - a perfect 1930s example of emerging Modernist design. An elliptical concrete curve, painted shining white, surrounds an azure blue central pond. Two elegant intertwined spiral ramps cross the centre of the pool. Imagine a parade of penguins waddling up the staircase behind, then gently descending the central ramp before splashing into the pool for a swim and going round for another circuit. This is spectator heaven. Unfortunately it wasn't penguin heaven, lacking sufficient environmental variety, and the penguins have now been shipped off to a new enclosure on the opposite side of the park. This has burrows for nesting, and a deeper pool for swimming, and none of that nasty concrete which used to hurt the poor fellows' feet. It's a popular spot, and the daily fish-feeding frenzy still attracts impenetrable crowds, but this mass migration has left the original Grade 1 listed pool unused and overlooked. Zoo authorities have tried filling it with alligators, and later with porcupines, but none of them really settled either. Until further notice this magnificent Art Deco animal hotel remains vacant. [photos]
Despite the exorbitant admission price London Zoo still makes for a winning day out, as a very tired nephew and niece of mine will testify. They were particularly taken by the lions, even though the lions didn't do much apart from snooze on a waterside platform in the afternoon sun. They loved the pack of show-off otters, even more adorable than the grinning meerkats in the enclosure nextdoor. They adored the tiny baby monkey they spotted deep in camouflaged foliage, and pointing her out excitedly to fellow visitors. They enjoyed standing right next to a naughty zebra while it did a poo by the fence. They even liked the Snowdon Aviary, tucked away in the overlooked northwestern corner of the site, where the birds flew free beneath a spiky cabled roof. I just didn't have the heart to tell them afterwards that they probably missed seeing a third of the animals in the zoo because we didn't walk along the right paths. Never mind, that'll give us something to look out for the next time we go. by bus: 274by canal: London Waterbus
It's been a long time coming, but the world's greatest cycling event finally swept into London yesterday. 189 lycra-clad blokes, most of them French, pedalled their hearts out on a five mile circuit round the centre of town. Half a million people came to watch them speed by. And, what do you know, even the sun finally came out.
I avoided the start down Whitehall and the finish up the Mall, and headed instead to the open green spaces of Hyde Park. Here I had a look round the People's Village - an enclave of cycle-related exhibits coupled with un bon marché français. This was the perfect spot to learn about sustainable transport policy, or to have a go on an under-16s obstacle course, or to buy some garlic sausages. I wasn't quite tempted to convert to two-wheeledness myself (I'd rather keep my body in shape by not falling under the wheels of a lorry, thanks) but the focus was appropriately positive throughout. The 2012 Olympic bus was in attendance, with that much-loved logo on its side, overseeing some have-a-go sporting sessions. And the must-have freebie du jour was the Orange Broadband periscope, which just everybody was queueing for, but only one of which I actually saw being used.
Wherever the Tour goes, the Caravan precedes it. This is a long procession of the Tour's sponsors, out to make an impression before the main event begins. Furry lions parade past, grinning girls hurl promotional goodies out of the windows of their converted cabs, and giant washing powder packets wheel by. Most surreal of all yesterday, however, was that all the sponsors were French. There was no nod whatsoever to the native British audience who were instead treated to publicity from bottled water brands they can't buy, and supermarkets they can't shop at, and police forces they'd never want to be recruited into. But that didn't stop the spectators from trying to grab every plastic freebie thrown their way. Skoda sunhats, Haribo sweeties, cheap plastic wristbands, even pointless shiny silver discs - all were grappled for with a vengeance. I failed miserably to collect a single item, beaten even to the shrink-wrapped cardboard fan in the shape of a pizza slice that fell at my feet. Ah well, the child who wrestled it from me looked suitably delighted.
Before the official start the riders made practice laps of the track, just to check where all the bends were and how best to take them. This was good, because otherwise there'd have been nothing to see for nearly an hour and a half, apart from the backs of the heads of the people standing in front of you. I'd taken up position by the Serpentine, inside the western loop of the cycle circuit, where by 2pm there was little chance of escape over a woefully inadequate pair of pedestrian footbridges. Nearby spectators rang their friends attempting rendezvous, only to discover that it might be hours before they could all meet up at the same location.
And then the first rider appeared. You could tell he was on his way by the ripple of applause spreading across the park from West Carriage Drive, and by the gendarme outrider on his official French police motorbike. Whoosh! That was a man in head-to-toe lycra, beneath a plastic teardrop helmet, pedalling like the clappers on his vélo rapide. Behind the anonymous cyclist came his team car with a pair of bikes on the roof (presumably as spares, in case of mishap, although that seemed rather pointless on a circuit lasting less than ten minutes). And then a final police outrider. And then a minute's gap. And repeat 188 times.
Some might call the Prologue repetitive and boring, especially for the spectators. The atmosphere was great, but we had no idea who was passing and no idea who was winning, neither did most of us care to be honest. We were there for the 'event'. Our role was just to watch, and to applaud, and to make up the numbers along the circuit. The endless stream of passing cyclists gave all the photographers in the crowd the opportunity to repeatedly practice their camera technique ("damn missed him, but never mind there'll be another one along in a minute"). But for some the excitement paled as the novelty value wore off, and the less stalwart spectators drifted away well before the three hours was up. It'll be more exciting at the Grand Depart this morning, along the first stage of the race proper. Oh you lucky people of Greenwich, Bexley and Kent, you have it all to come. Just don't blink as the peloton charges through, because you've only got the one chance for a decent photo.
Below are descriptions of five different walks around the 2012 OlympicPark. Five walks you could have made yesterday, but can't make today. Each walk's description will be accompanied by a set of geotagged photographs (linked throughout the text) so that those of you who've never been to the Lower Lea Valley can visualise what's about to be wiped away. Should you care. And maybe in 2012, if this blog is still here, we can all look back and see what's been built on the site of what. Five years and counting. Bring it on!
Walk the Olympic Park (1) Marshgate Lane 40 photographs here
If you're trying to locate the southern end of Marshgate Lane, look for the Porsche showroom on Stratford High Street. Nobody who buys one of their vehicles would ever dream of driving north up this grimy, dusty road, but that's where we're heading. Turn right at the temporary traffic lights, then sharp left at the arched entrance to the Marshgate Business Centre. What an unloved street lies ahead. Along its crooked length are several brick-fronted warehouses and workshops, almost as if the 21st century arrived and nobody here noticed. Fading signs on gates and doors boast 0181 telephone numbers. Times have been hard for Freetrade Beers & Minerals Limited and Kenton Steel, and for a score of other recently-moved-out very small businesses. Worshippers no longer flock to the outwardly underwhelming Celestial Church, not now that the shutters have come down for the last time. It's humbling to remember how many local Londoners have scraped their living down this backward backstreet.
The Olympic gate has been erected beside a pile of rusting car bumpers outside the Bodyworks Accident Repair Centre. Beyond the road vanishes beneath a dank dripping railway bridge, emerging on the other side alongside an open expanse of automotivescrapyard. Somebody around here must like tyres because they're piled up everywhere - until recently blocking pedestrian access to the Greenway above. The roadway beneath these old iron sewerpipes is even darker, and puddlier. Step through the mud, past a couple of rotting sofas and an unseen plaque to the Victorian engineers who created this essential effluent motorway. It's a minor miracle that nobody ever started a fire down here, mangling the ironwork above - North London's toilets would have backed up for miles.
Phew, that's the grim bit over. The four storey brick building to your right marks the entrance to the Marshgate Centre. Which is much less posh than it sounds. The upper windows are smashed, the hanging basket has seen better days, and a rather paranoid sign by the front door announces Be aware!! This area infested with thieves!. There are rather better security gates nextdoor at Prism Chemical Services, which is just as well given the stockpiled Hazchems stashed away in silos stretching back to the riverside. To the right is Knobbs Hill Road (quite frankly I'm amazed that nobody's stolen the street sign), the first of three bleak sidestreets lined by warehouses, steel fences and car spares outlets. Don't venture right down to the end or the insane dog that guards the Bedrock sheds will practice his 100 decibel bark, frustrated that he can't slip through the locked gate and tear you limb from limb.
Back on themainroad, some of Marshgate Lane's bigger businesses now grace the roadside. The roses at PA Finlay & Son recently gave one last futile display, bursting red and pink through the security fence. Next it's the salmon-coloured chic of H Forman & Son, who had the misfortune to upgrade their fish-smoking factory just before the Olympic decision came through. Bosses here have been amongst the most vocal against forced relocation, but they're still having to move out all the same. The owners of the next office block vacated a while back, and the ODA's building contractors have moved in instead. A fleet of decontamination chambers stand waiting in the car park, ready for operatives in respirators to deal with all the asbestos and other fibrous nasties that will be displaced by the area's imminent demolition.
And so we come to the higher ground which, in five years' time, will be the location of the Olympic Stadium itself. It's almost impossible to visualise today. Maybe once the surrounding warehouses have been cleared and the ground levelled it'll become a bit easier, not that you'll be allowed in to see it. Our walk ends up the third and final sidestreet, turning right across the multi-storey grandstand, across the athletics track and into the central green bit of the stadium where all the javelins will land. Why not break into a run and sprint up the road, just so that you can say you've completed the 100m where the world's greatest will compete in 2012. On your way you'll pass a Belgian truck driver parked up for the night, a rotting mattress and a large warehouse where Bywaters used to hire out skips. The finishing line is marked by three fluttering flags, in this case representing a Mercedes Service Centre and not the medal winners' rostrum. And finally, at the very end of the road, there's a factory that makes lace curtains - I rather hope that the royal box ends up here. How absolutely insignificant this sidestreet looks today. But sixty months from now, for a single fortnight, it'll be the very centre of the world. And you were there first.
Walk the Olympic Park (2) Pudding Mill Lane to Carpenters Lock 30 photographs here
Pudding Mill Lane DLR station has always been a windswept platform in the middle of nowhere serving a population of not many. Following the closure of the roadbeneath the rail bridge, severing contact with the industrial area to the north, expect it to get even quieter. Pudding Mill Lane itself is nasty, brutish and short. It weaves between metal fences, scrapyards and incinerators - a far cry from its pre-industrial past as a winding country lane. A steady succession of trucks rumble their dusty cargoes in and out of an extensive triangular compound beside Marshgate Siding. If you want Renault spares, if you need low cost plant hire or if you just have a skipload of rubbish that needs burning, you've come to the right place. In five years' time this metallurgical melting pot will be the site of the pre-race Warm-up Athletics Track. Let's hope it scrubs up clean.
After dipping sharply beneath the Greenway (warning, road liable to flooding), Pudding Mill Lane fades away and Marshgate Lane takes over. To the left of the road, in a broad man-made channel, lurks the Pudding Mill River. This is a wholly insignificant backwater, a severed stagnant sidearm running for little more than a quarter of a mile between wasteland and warehouses. The ODA cleared away the surrounding undergrowth earlier this year, revealing a naked river containing surprisingly little wildlife in need of rescue. Ducks and pondweed have since recolonised the water, and a huge pile oftyres has been dumped on the banks close to a concrete roadbridge. This artificial stream still has an unexpected charm, particularly along its final northward wiggle, but it won't stay this way for long. The Pudding Mill River is destined to vanish like the windmill after which it is named, and will disappear forever beneath the Olympic Stadium and its surrounding service areas.
A white-arched footbridge marks the shady corner where this doomed waterway enters the Old River Lea. This whole area is swarming with rivers, bifurcating and braiding across the Lea Valley floodplain. And the Old River Lea is probably the prettiest of the lot, shielded from the surrounding industrial gloom by a thin screen of verdant trees. At its mouth are the legendary lockkeepers cottages bought up by Channel 4 to host the Big Breakfast where Chris and Gaby once held court. The sunshine panorama in the backyard remains intact, but this is now a semi-private family home. Further upriver a winding towpath runs opposite an inaccessible reedy shore, where moorhens nest undisturbed amongst the rushes. Branches drip with flowers and foliage, brick towers mark the site of absent lock gates, and rats scuttle unseen through the undergrowth. Well it's nearly perfect, anyway.
And at the other end of this all-too-brief river, at the very heart of the Olympic Park site, stands Carpenters Lock. 'Crumbles' might be a better word than 'stands', to be honest. There have been no boats through this dilapidated structure for years, and the access footpath was fenced off a few years ago to deter all but the most determined photographer. No point in any last minute restoration. Olympic architects have other plans for this spot, with the central Olympic spine path due to plough across the river right here. Which is a shame, because there's a perfectly decent footbridge close by already. It's a gently humpingblue-greenbridge with latticed sides, used by long-dead horses to tow barges downstream towards the Thames. Shame that it's a little on the narrow side, and would almost certainly collapse under the weight of spectator footflow when the basketball arena is up and running. But don't worry. This iconic bridge appears to be marked as a thin stripe on legacy plans for the Olympic Park, so I have every hope that it'll survive the oncoming bulldozer onslaught intact. I look forward to standing here again.
Walk the Olympic Park (3) Carpenter's Road 30 photographs here
The western perimeter of the Olympic Park runs for over a mile alongside the natural barrier of the River Lea. If your small business is to the west of the river it survives, no matter how rundown or ramshackle. If your small business is to the east of the river it dies, no matter how wholesome or upmarket. A single narrow road bridge crosses the river between the two zones, at White Post Lane in the top right corner of Tower Hamlets. Let's head over onto the doomed side.
To your left, behind locked gates, stand the empty brick shells of KingsYard. Several small businesses once made their home inside a trio of long three-storey buildings surrounding a central courtyard, including such esteemed names as Stratford Catering Equipment Manufacturing Ltd and the Bilmerton Wig Supply Centre. They've all left now, so sadly there's no longer any need for Tony's Cafe to serve up daily kebabs and cuppas between 7am and 3pm. Come 2012 Kings Yard will be transformed into the Olympic Park's Energy Centre, pumping out gas-fuelled zero-carbon goodness from a cutting-edge Combined Cooling, Heating and Power Plant. On the opposite side of the road a number of more modern industrial estates are waiting to be wiped away to make room for the Basketball Arena. The Royal Opera House's scenery and costume workshop is moving out, as are major distribution depots for Boots the chemist and FedEx international couriers.
On eastward into Carpenter's Road. This is a favourite East End boy racer backstreet, so it's appropriate that the majority of the businesses down the rest of the road are automobile related. Crash your car here and someone will be on the spot in seconds to nab your bumper, remove your windscreen or cart off your chassis, for cash. Pause a while on the next roadbridge and look out across the River Lea's eastern channel. You might spot a bobbing moorhen, you might spot a soaring seagull, or you might be really lucky and spot a purple Silverlink train rattling by across the water. Three lonely traffic lights guard the road junction into Marshgate Lane, where the occasional lorry queues to let absolutely nothing pass. Passengers crammed in aboard every route 276 bus soak up the unsightlyview as they pass between twin building sites. 2012 contractors have been busy here since the start of the year on the site of the new Aquatic Centre, levelling the ground ready for the global Speedo invasion. It'll be a long time coming.
Carpenter's Road narrows alongside a long hangar-like structure divided up into a series of trading units. You can bring your broken-down taxi here for repair, or pick up some Japanese auto spares, or even snap up a cut-price car battery. Bits of windscreen litter the roadside - yours for a very reasonable price. Behind one set of locked gates they brew tarmac, behind another it's readymix concrete. And so itcontinues down the road - a whole string of businesses which wouldn't be acceptable (or have sufficient cash to pay the rent) anywhere else. Olympic regeneration will replace them all with a brand new residential neighbourhood, no doubt packed with incoming couples who've never fiddled under a bonnet in their lives. And the displaced employees of Carpenter's Road will have to make a fresh start elsewhere, if elsewhere will have them.
Pass beneath the low railway bridge and you reach the existing housing estates in the suburban no-mans-land south of Stratford station. Residents here are doomed to look out of their windows and watch a steady stream of construction traffic spluttering through their community over the next few years, with barely an extra penny spent on where they live. The bounteous OlympicLand is so very close to home, and yet still so very far away.
There used to be a second road north from here, but the top half of Warton Road was closed off earlier this year to allow construction of the Aquatic Centre to commence. A miserable stubby dead end remains beyond the railway, hemmed in between crumbling brick walls and green-painted security barriers. Behind a corrugated iron fence lies what used to be AV Autos, purveyors of the finest Fiat spares, and at the far end a locked gate provides unnecessary vehicle access to Thornton Fields railway sidings. I don't think I've stood anywhere quite so irrelevant and forgotten anywhere else in the Olympic Park. And I'm pleased I slipped in just before another brand new gate slams shut and snuffs out this tiny island of desolation forever.
Walk the Olympic Park (4) the Bow Back Rivers 40 photographs here
Most valleys have one river, maybe two. The Lower Lea Valley has at least ten. There are waterways of all different lengths and sizes - some narrow, some broad, some natural, some artificial, some sweeping, some stunted, but all characterful. The smaller rivers are threaded tributaries of the River Lea, linked to one another at both ends, which makes for a fascinating intertwined network of watery goodness. And perfect for a signposted "circular" riverside ramble - the Bow Back Rivers Walk - conceived 1999, half-closed 2005, eradicated 2007.
Let's begin this two-kilometre stroll at the City Mill Lock on Blaker Road, an unexpectedwatery vista beside the ugly reality of Stratford High Street. At Otter Close a triangular estate of apartment blocks bites deep into the Olympic Park like a sharpened fang. All the surrounding land is earmarked for essential security screening facilities, but these apartments have somehow survived compulsory purchase destruction. A path leads north along the City Mill River to the Greenway, where a secret staircase leads down to dragonfly level at the water's edge. Take the tunnel to your right, beneath the sewer, emerging into a shielded greenenclave around a reedy stagnant inlet. Standing here you could be lost to the world, at least until a DLR train rumbles over the next bridge and all the passengers look down wondering what the hell you're doing here.
The rest of the City Mill River towpath provides a walk of contrasts. To your right a bush-covered fence screens off what appears to be an area of open wilderness. It used to be, until recently, but then the bulldozers moved in to clear the site leaving acres of sterile wasteland. This long strip of former woodland will form the main pedestrian route through the Olympic Park, but for now it remains inaccessible brownfield. Meanwhile, on the opposite bank of the river, there's an alternative view of the Marshgate Lane industrial estate from the rear. The path passes brick warehouses and gleaming silver silos. It continues past a scrapyard with its own rowing boat and a quarter mile longtumbledownshed. An angry unshutuppable alsatian patrols the riverbank, incensed that you've dared encroach on his private domain. Expect considerably better security in 2012 when the Olympic Stadium touches down precisely here. For now the view remains distinctly lowrise, and unexpectedlyphotogenic.
A ramp leads up from the City Mill River to the top of Marshgate Lane, and then it's just a few steps along the road to start the return journey down a parallel waterway. This is the Waterworks River, which boasts one of the most temporary footpaths in East London. Riverside access was opened up in 1999 when British Waterways stepped in to clear vegetation from the river's western bank. The path was made fully wheelchair accessible... apart from a single step over a drainage pipe which meant that disabled visitors could only get 90% of the way down before having to turn round and retrace their steps. The route was never popular, never busy, and maybe that's why the gates at both ends were firmly locked a couple of years ago. The footpath has since gone to rack and ruin, with two summers' vegetation allowed to run rampant, and anyone attempting the signposted circular walk has been sorely disappointed. What a waste of money, and what a sad loss of such a glorious backwater secret.
Until a couple of months ago. All it took was a couple of bent-apart bars in the locked gate and suddenly the Waterworks river was accessible again. Not for wheelchairs, admittedly - they'd have been stymied by the fallen trees, discarded kitchen sinks and shoulder high brambles. But any able-bodied explorer with a sense of adventure and sufficient protective clothing could have fought their way through this impromptu urban jungle. And what a treat for those who made the effort. Dog roses and convolvulus aplenty, magpies and moorhens on the wing, ladybirds clustered on untrampled nettles, and the feeling that this was your own private nature reserve unseen by human eyes. Apart from those truck drivers on the other side of the river, obviously, busy building up the foundations of a massive Olympic roadbridge.
Halfway along the footpath (don't worry, that's the worst of the impenetrable stuff over), a ramp leads up to the pedestrian entrance to Thornton Fields railway sidings. It's here, beneath gantries and criss-crossed power cables, that unwanted mainline trains are stored between the morning and evening peaks. But they'll be moving out too next year, to replacement sidings in Leyton, because the 2012 hamburger stalls have got to go somewhere. Back on the riverbank the skyline is dominated by a brand new apartment block - 18 storeys of pure white curviness. This is the Icona building, granted planning permission before the Olympic bid was won, and whose trademark red, yellow and green balconies will no doubt become a familiar feature of 2012 TV coverage. But it's still the glorious combination of overgrown footpath, tidal waterway and forbidding warehouses that makes this last stretch down to the Greenway a hidden treat. It's just a shame there was so little time to experience it.
Walk the Olympic Park (5) Waterden Road 28 photographs here
In contrast to the myriad routeways through the bottom half of the Olympic Park, there's only one up top. Waterden Road runs due north between the two main channels of the River Lea, with a swathe of mostly brownfield land to either side. It ought to be a major cut-through for cars and lorries but instead it's used almost exclusively by local traffic. At its southern tip the road curves and humps over the North London railway line, before stuttering to a pause at a set of totally unnecessary traffic lights. These have been erected in preparation for the opening of StratfordInternational station, connected via a brand new link road which glides on concrete stilts across the river valley. Except that the station hasn't opened yet (and won't for years), so this virgin carriageway runs slap bang into a metal barrier, wasted and abandoned amidst a future Olympic construction site. Highway chiefs have at least now switched off the utterly pointless pelican crossing, but it was fun stopping the non-existent traffic while it lasted.
Stand around here at 5pm on a weekday and you can watch a steady stream of workers heading home from one of Waterden Road's many non-premium businesses. They file off towards the railway station at Hackney Wick, or walk the long way home to Homerton. They'll be back for their next shift soon enough, or maybe sooner if they plan to frequent any of the local evangelical churches, dodgy nightclubs or cheap dining establishments. The biggest employers down Waterden Road are the bus companies. There are three large bus garages here altogether, currently home to hundreds of double deckers, scores of bendy buses and a handful of heritage Routemasters. All are utterly crucial to East London's transport infrastructure. The ODA won't be able to lock off this road for good until all three garages have been relocated elsewhere, and for the time being various alternative sites in West Ham and Bow are still at the planning stage.
For a peek somewhere special, follow the side alley round the back of First's bus garage. If the gate's unlocked, and nobody's looking, you might be able to cross the footbridge into the green oasis of the Manor Garden allotments. Here generations of Hackneyfolk have cultivated treasuredplots of land, bringing forth vegetables and flowers (and even more vegetables). The 80 allotments run for more than quarter of a mile altogether, sandwiched in a thin strip of land between two rivers, and perched high enough up to afford a fine view over the surrounding valley. Most of the sheds and gardening equipment have seen better days, and none of the plots would ever grace the Chelsea Flower Show, but that's part of the charm of the place. Even when there's nobody around you can feel a very real sense of community in the air - this is somewhere to relax as well as to grow. But the Olympics are cutting short the final summer season, and the few remaining tenants are being allowed to hang around just long enough to gather in their last harvest. As dusk falls across this unique eco-friendly environment, I fear the temporary replacement allotments over in Leyton will be a wholly inadequate substitute.
Last Sunday lunchtime, back on Waterden Road, I watched a slow-moving procession bringing pre-Olympic closure one step further forward. A bright yellow JCB pulled up beside a lorry parked at the southern traffic lights and raised a single metal gate into the air. Workmen in fluorescent jackets used Stop/Go signs to halt the infrequent traffic and the JCB started to make its way gradually, cautiously, up to the northern end of the road. The gate dangled precariously in mid air, the driver taking particular care beneath low slung wires and cables, until the convoy reached a pair of sturdy steel posts recently bashed in beside the East London bus garage. Here the workmen proceeded to lower the hinges carefully into position, half blocking the road, before returning to fetch a matching gate for the opposite post.
These Olympic Park gates have been carefully sited to block off almost all of Waterden Road, but still to leave access to the Travellers site at Waterden Crescent and also the car park at the Kingsway International Christian Centre. The KICC has one of the largest weekly congregations in the UK, and several thousand Afro-Caribbean worshippers were packed inside their vast warehouse church while the gate-laying ceremony took place outside. This site is earmarked for the Olympic Hockey Stadium, and the church is hoping to relocate to a new riverside estate in Havering (if Havering will have them). But, however fervent their Sunday prayers, there'll be no Second Coming here. A five year lock-in is on its way.
Walk the Olympic Park (6) the Eastway Cycle Circuit 7 new photographs here and 4 old ones here
I should have brought you a sixth walk around the Olympic Park. I should have taken you for a stroll from Hackney Marsh down Quartermile Lane, around the Eastway Cycle Circuit, down to Bully Point Nature Reserve and then out into the Clays Lane Estate. But I can't.
Quartermile Lane was sealed off in January. "You can't come down here," said the security bloke emerging from his portakabin and striding up to the gate. "It's been closed off for ages, you know." The look in his eye suggested a muted excitement to finally have a potential intruder to talk to. Across the A12 Eastway, another none-too-sturdy security fence now prevents anybody from crossing into Bully Fen. A sign by the entrance proudly boasts the creation of acres of community woodland just seven years ago, with 4000 trees planted across a patch of barren wasteland. Olympic bulldozers are now busy recreating the former landscape. The last race at the Lea ValleyCycle Circuit took place last November, and the off-road race track is already being erased so that, ironically, the Olympic Velodrome and BMX Track can be erected in its place. You can't wander along the Channelsea River any more - the nearest East London ever got to a babbling rural stream. And the hidden green oasis inside the Bully Point Nature Reserve, that's gone too. All of the above, fenced off and inaccessible already.
The Clays Lane Estate is still semi-open, although more of a ghost town than the thriving student community it used to be. Two brown tower blocks stand condemned awaiting demolition, downhill from scores of emptied utilitarian apartments now locked away behind another Olympic gate. The cafe's closed, the Community Centre's closed, and only the Travellers site shows signs of vibrant life. For now. Survival is not an option. This is where the Olympic Village will be built, where the world's athletes will stay for a fortnight in 2012, and where a property boom will explode shortly afterwards.
So apologies, but this walk is cancelled. Not only has the route been closed off for the last six months, but many of the sights along the way no longer exist. Except in words and photographs. And that's why I've devoted the last week to preserving the memory of the other five walks as best I can. Nothing lasts forever, but at least a few megapixels of the old Lower Lea Valley will live on.
It's the last day of normality in the Lower Lea Valley. Filthy lorries still belch down Carpenter's Road. Cyclists still whizz unhindered along the Old River Lea towpath. Buses still stream out of three large depots up Waterden Road. Barges still chug silently along the City Mill River. Boy racers still speed their souped-up cars round the bends of Marshgate Lane. Lonely walkers still stride along the overgrown footpath beside the Waterworks River. But not tomorrow. From Monday the area enters five years of Olympic quarantine, sealed off from the outside world to be made ready for the arrival of ten thousand global athletes. Lucky them.
It's surprisingly easy to lock away 227 acres of Inner London. Much of the site is already hemmed in by railways, rivers and trunk roads, as well as an existing building site at Stratford City. Only a handful of gates are needed - seven across roads and four across towpaths. The concrete posts are already in place, and a series of "Road Closed" signs are ready and waiting beneath opaque plastic sheeting. It won't take long for workmen to secure the perimeter, probably sometime early tomorrow, and then that'll be it for public access until 2012.
Well, almost. Some businesses and organisations have permission to remain behind for a little longer while they make their final arrangements to sell up and move on. The Olympic Delivery Authority don't officially take charge until 27th July, exactly five years before the Opening Ceremony, which gives the last stragglers nearly four more weeks. Two replacement bus garages needed to rehouse hundreds of double deckers, bendy buses and heritage Routemasters are still only at the planning stage. And some of the the allotment holders at Manor Gardens have a reprieve until the autumn, allowing them to bring one final harvest home.
But for the rest of us it's no go, not after today. Which is a shame, because an amble around the Bow Back Rivers is easily my very favourite local walk. Nothing quite compares to the mixture of industrial squalor, overgrown foliage and resilient wildlife to be found here where London's three poorest boroughs meet. Thankfully there'll still be alternative routes that are almost-as-good, because the Olympic Delivery Authority aren't quite closing everything. The towpath along the main River Lea navigation will remain open throughout the construction phase, as will the waterway itself. And the Greenway, which cuts right across the middle of the 2012 building site, will continue to be accessible throughout to pedestrians and cyclists alike. This footpath runs along the top of a giant Victorian sewer, which I guess 21st century planners daren't even possibly tamper with. I'm delighted, because this raised walkway will allow an almost perfect view of Olympic Stadium development over the next half-decade.
Today I'm taking my camera out for one final ground level sortie around the Olympic Park-to-be. I'm hoping there'll be some breaks in the rain and cloud of recent days, allowing one last chance to experience this very special environment in full summer splendour. Because, however wonderful the planned post-2012 legacy for this long-neglected site, the future can only be a scrubbed-up sanitised version of the ramshackle natural environment that vanishes tomorrow.
NDI SPY LONDON
Tower Bridge was opened in 1894, the response to a very particular design brief - how best to relieve road traffic across the Thames downstream of London Bridge whilst still permitting ships access to the Pool of London? Horace Jones' twin-towered bascule bridge provided the ideal solution - both practical and elegant - and unwittingly created a national icon. Few world landmarks have a more recognisable silhouette than Tower Bridge. The briefest sight of this multi-storey marvel in a film, TV report or photograph announces "This is London" to even the most casual observer. Maybe that's why the bridge is permamently swarming with tourists from every continent, each intent on capturing the perfect image whilst simultaneously blocking the pavement and the sightline of others.
The very best time to visit, unless you're in a vehicle, is when the bridge is being raised. This happens surprisingly frequently, up to 1000 times a year, and yet it's an event I saw for the first time only last weekend. By pure fluke I happened to be at the entrance to the central span of the bridge when the siren went, the traffic halted and the pedestrian gate was closed in front of me. Damned exciting stuff! The bridgemaster waited until everything was clear - no chance of any death-defying gap-jumping here - and gave the signal from within his pierside command cabin. The two halves of the roadway clicked apart and quivered gently into the air. Slowly, but surely, they lifted to their maximum elevation - 86 degrees to the horizontal. And then, much to the delight of the crowds now thronging the piers, a twin-masted sailing ship cast off from its moorings beside HMS Belfast and sailed majestically (just) beneath the bridge's gothic portal. There's a sight you don't see every day. And then the roadway lowered slowly back into place before repeated sirens indicated that it was safe to cross again. Up and down in ten minutes flat. Why leave such magical London encounters to chance? The Tower Bridge website lists every scheduled bridge lift for the forseeable future, which is cracking inside knowledge for anyone with a camera (or any commuter attempting to take the bus from Liverpool Street to Bermondsey).
At the top of the towers are two large screens displaying looped information films, one detailing the bridge's construction and the other a century of Tower-ing greatness. Each presentation looks very dated - more a subtitled slideshow than a major multimedia experience. Look up and you can peer inside the spotlit turret, where a few plastic workmen have been positioned in an attempt to create some authentic 1890s atmosphere. Rather more exciting are the two latticed walkways across the river, up at flag-fluttering level. Ignore the row of information panels (unless it's foggy) and concentrate on the view. Downstream there's Canary Wharf, Butler's Wharf and the grand sweep of the Thames curving between Wapping and Rotherhithe. And upstream <switch walkways> there's City Hall, HMS Belfast, the Tower of London and the majestic City skyline. There are even special sliding windows in the glass to allow you and your camera an obstruction-free perspective across the panorama below. It's a view few Londoners bother to see. Their loss.
Anyone fancy running a railway? Because you couldn't do much worse than the gibbons who are running the London Underground at the moment. I'm talking about the tube's maintenance and renovation contracts here, and I'm talking the commercial disaster area that is Metronet. They thought repairing track and re-tiling stations would be easy. They thought it would be risk-free to cream off profits at the taxpayer's expense. They thought they had a 30 year licence to print money. They were wrong. And now they're paying.
I see this as divine judgement for all the agonies that I, and three-quarters of the network, have suffered over the last 4 years. Metronet started their station renovation program at my local tube station, and made an almighty mess of it. They forced the station to close early when there was bugger all going on inside. They treated heritage features with contempt. They failed repeatedly to complete work to agreed quality thresholds. And they took 20 months to finally finish everything, whereas they were only scheduled to take eight. Two years later, and Bow Road isn't the only station they've botched. Have you been to Epping recently, or Ruislip Manor or Chigwell or Turnham Green or White City or Great Portland Street or Theydon Bois or Chiswick Park? Probably best not to look around too carefully. It's amazing that Metronet have limped on this far, to be honest. Their fall from grace is sweet justice.
London Zoo is the oldest scientific zoo in the world, opened in 1828, and occupies a triangle of land in the top right corner of Regent's Park. The zoo is rammed full of grunting squawking beasties, 651 species in total, and every day a 652nd species queues at the entrance gate to come inside and take a look around. It costs a fortune to buy tickets, not helped by an additional £1.50 "optional" donation slapped onto the admission price, and a family of 4 shouldn't expect to see change from £50. But where else in London are you going to see lions, tigers and giraffes? And penguins and zebras? And ickle cutesy-wutesy meerkats? Just remember that all the "big" animals such as elephants, rhinos and cheetahs are housed up the M1 at Whipsnade instead, so don't be disappointed when you don't see any. And don't visit if the Victorian concept of caged animals makes you feel uneasy.
The zoo's newest attraction, opened in March, is Gorilla Kingdom. Essentially it's just a very big enclosure housing three gorillas, but laid out like an African forest clearing with a wiggly pedestrian walkway around the perimeter. Nobody stops to peer into the monkey cages alongside, they're all too busy peering across the moat or through the glass wall to see if the large female is waving her hairy backside at the crowds again. Other new geographical-based habitats include a Rainforest Lookout (packed with "small animals") and an African Bird Safari (a posh name for a mini-aviary). Elsewhere you can now walk through an enclosure swarming with squirrel monkeys, and stroll through a heated tunnel full of giant flapping butterflies. Integration is the zoo's latest watchword, and each new development is moving gradually away from "one cage, one animal".
Finest of all the zoo's architecture is surely the Lubetkin Penguin Pool - a perfect 1930s example of emerging Modernist design. An elliptical concrete curve, painted shining white, surrounds an azure blue central pond. Two elegant intertwined spiral ramps cross the centre of the pool. Imagine a parade of penguins waddling up the staircase behind, then gently descending the central ramp before splashing into the pool for a swim and going round for another circuit. This is spectator heaven. Unfortunately it wasn't penguin heaven, lacking sufficient environmental variety, and the penguins have now been shipped off to a new enclosure on the opposite side of the park. This has burrows for nesting, and a deeper pool for swimming, and none of that nasty concrete which used to hurt the poor fellows' feet. It's a popular spot, and the daily fish-feeding frenzy still attracts impenetrable crowds, but this mass migration has left the original Grade 1 listed pool unused and overlooked. Zoo authorities have tried filling it with alligators, and later with porcupines, but none of them really settled either. Until further notice this magnificent Art Deco animal hotel remains vacant. [photos]
It's been a long time coming, but the world's greatest cycling event finally swept into London yesterday. 189 lycra-clad blokes, most of them French, pedalled their hearts out on a five mile circuit round the centre of town. Half a million people came to watch them speed by. And, what do you know, even the sun finally came out.
Wherever the Tour goes, the Caravan precedes it. This is a long procession of the Tour's sponsors, out to make an impression before the main event begins. Furry lions parade past, grinning girls hurl promotional goodies out of the windows of their converted cabs, and giant washing powder packets wheel by. Most surreal of all yesterday, however, was that all the sponsors were French. There was no nod whatsoever to the native British audience who were instead treated to publicity from bottled water brands they can't buy, and supermarkets they can't shop at, and police forces they'd never want to be recruited into. But that didn't stop the spectators from trying to grab every plastic freebie thrown their way. Skoda sunhats, Haribo sweeties, cheap plastic wristbands, even pointless shiny silver discs - all were grappled for with a vengeance. I failed miserably to collect a single item, beaten even to the shrink-wrapped cardboard fan in the shape of a pizza slice that fell at my feet. Ah well, the child who wrestled it from me looked suitably delighted.
And then the first rider appeared. You could tell he was on his way by the ripple of applause spreading across the park from West Carriage Drive, and by the gendarme outrider on his official French police motorbike. Whoosh! That was a man in head-to-toe lycra, beneath a plastic teardrop helmet, pedalling like the clappers on his vélo rapide. Behind the anonymous cyclist came his team car with a pair of bikes on the roof (presumably as spares, in case of mishap, although that seemed rather pointless on a circuit lasting less than ten minutes). And then a final police outrider. And then a minute's gap. And repeat 188 times.
Walk the Olympic Park (1)
If you're trying to locate the southern end of Marshgate Lane, look for the Porsche showroom on Stratford High Street. Nobody who buys one of their vehicles would ever dream of driving north up this grimy, dusty road, but that's where we're heading. Turn right at the temporary traffic lights, then sharp left at the arched entrance to the Marshgate Business Centre. What an unloved street lies ahead. Along its crooked length are several brick-fronted warehouses and workshops, almost as if the 21st century arrived and nobody here noticed. Fading signs on gates and doors boast 0181 telephone numbers. Times have been hard for Freetrade Beers & Minerals Limited and Kenton Steel, and for a score of other recently-moved-out very small businesses. Worshippers no longer flock to the outwardly underwhelming Celestial Church, not now that the shutters have come down for the last time. It's humbling to remember how many local Londoners have scraped their living down this backward backstreet.
Phew, that's the grim bit over. The four storey brick building to your right marks the entrance to the Marshgate Centre. Which is much less posh than it sounds. The upper windows are smashed, the hanging basket has seen better days, and a rather paranoid sign by the front door announces Be aware!! This area infested with thieves!. There are rather better security gates nextdoor at Prism Chemical Services, which is just as well given the stockpiled Hazchems stashed away in silos stretching back to the riverside. To the right is Knobbs Hill Road (quite frankly I'm amazed that nobody's stolen the street sign), the first of three bleak sidestreets lined by warehouses, steel fences and car spares outlets. Don't venture right down to the end or the insane dog that guards the Bedrock sheds will practice his 100 decibel bark, frustrated that he can't slip through the locked gate and tear you limb from limb.
Pudding Mill Lane DLR station has always been a windswept platform in the middle of nowhere serving a population of not many. Following the closure of the road beneath the rail bridge, severing contact with the industrial area to the north, expect it to get even quieter. Pudding Mill Lane itself is nasty, brutish and short. It weaves between metal fences, scrapyards and incinerators - a far cry from its pre-industrial past as a winding country lane. A steady succession of trucks rumble their dusty cargoes in and out of an extensive triangular compound beside Marshgate Siding. If you want Renault spares, if you need low cost plant hire or if you just have a skipload of rubbish that needs burning, you've come to the right place. In five years' time this metallurgical melting pot will be the site of the pre-race Warm-up Athletics Track. Let's hope it scrubs up clean.
After dipping sharply beneath the Greenway (warning, road liable to flooding), Pudding Mill Lane fades away and Marshgate Lane takes over. To the left of the road, in a broad man-made channel, lurks the Pudding Mill River. This is a wholly insignificant backwater, a severed stagnant sidearm running for little more than a quarter of a mile between wasteland and warehouses. The ODA cleared away the surrounding undergrowth earlier this year, revealing a naked river containing surprisingly little wildlife in need of rescue. Ducks and pondweed have since recolonised the water, and a huge pile of tyres has been dumped on the banks close to a concrete roadbridge. This artificial stream still has an unexpected charm, particularly along its final northward wiggle, but it won't stay this way for long. The Pudding Mill River is destined to vanish like the windmill after which it is named, and will disappear forever beneath the Olympic Stadium and its surrounding service areas.
And at the other end of this all-too-brief river, at the very heart of the Olympic Park site, stands Carpenters Lock. 'Crumbles' might be a better word than 'stands', to be honest. There have been no boats through this dilapidated structure for years, and the access footpath was fenced off a few years ago to deter all but the most determined photographer. No point in any last minute restoration. Olympic architects have other plans for this spot, with the central Olympic spine path due to plough across the river right here. Which is a shame, because there's a perfectly decent footbridge close by already. It's a gently humping blue-green bridge with latticed sides, used by long-dead horses to tow barges downstream towards the Thames. Shame that it's a little on the narrow side, and would almost certainly collapse under the weight of spectator footflow when the basketball arena is up and running. But don't worry. This iconic bridge appears to be marked as a thin stripe on legacy plans for the Olympic Park, so I have every hope that it'll survive the oncoming bulldozer onslaught intact. I look forward to standing here again.
To your left, behind locked gates, stand the empty brick shells of Kings Yard. Several small businesses once made their home inside a trio of long three-storey buildings surrounding a central courtyard, including such esteemed names as Stratford Catering Equipment Manufacturing Ltd and the Bilmerton Wig Supply Centre. They've all left now, so sadly there's no longer any need for Tony's Cafe to serve up daily kebabs and cuppas between 7am and 3pm. Come 2012 Kings Yard will be transformed into the Olympic Park's Energy Centre, pumping out gas-fuelled zero-carbon goodness from a cutting-edge Combined Cooling, Heating and Power Plant. On the opposite side of the road a number of more modern industrial estates are waiting to be wiped away to make room for the Basketball Arena. The Royal Opera House's scenery and costume workshop is moving out, as are major distribution depots for Boots the chemist and FedEx international couriers.
On eastward into Carpenter's Road. This is a favourite East End boy racer backstreet, so it's appropriate that the majority of the businesses down the rest of the road are automobile related. Crash your car here and someone will be on the spot in seconds to nab your bumper, remove your windscreen or cart off your chassis, for cash. Pause a while on the next roadbridge and look out across the River Lea's eastern channel. You might spot a bobbing moorhen, you might spot a soaring seagull, or you might be really lucky and spot a purple Silverlink train rattling by across the water. Three lonely traffic lights guard the road junction into Marshgate Lane, where the occasional lorry queues to let absolutely nothing pass. Passengers crammed in aboard every route 276 bus soak up the unsightly view as they pass between twin building sites. 2012 contractors have been busy here since the start of the year on the site of the new Aquatic Centre, levelling the ground ready for the global Speedo invasion. It'll be a long time coming.
Carpenter's Road narrows alongside a long hangar-like structure divided up into a series of trading units. You can bring your broken-down taxi here for repair, or pick up some Japanese auto spares, or even snap up a cut-price car battery. Bits of windscreen litter the roadside - yours for a very reasonable price. Behind one set of locked gates they brew tarmac, behind another it's readymix concrete. And so it continues down the road - a whole string of businesses which wouldn't be acceptable (or have sufficient cash to pay the rent) anywhere else. Olympic regeneration will replace them all with a brand new residential neighbourhood, no doubt packed with incoming couples who've never fiddled under a bonnet in their lives. And the displaced employees of Carpenter's Road will have to make a fresh start elsewhere, if elsewhere will have them.
Most valleys have one river, maybe two. The Lower Lea Valley has at least ten. There are waterways of all different lengths and sizes - some narrow, some broad, some natural, some artificial, some sweeping, some stunted, but all characterful. The smaller rivers are threaded tributaries of the River Lea, linked to one another at both ends, which makes for a fascinating intertwined network of watery goodness. And perfect for a signposted "circular" riverside ramble - the Bow Back Rivers Walk - conceived 1999, half-closed 2005, eradicated 2007.
The rest of the City Mill River towpath provides a walk of contrasts. To your right a bush-covered fence screens off what appears to be an area of open wilderness. It used to be, until recently, but then the bulldozers moved in to clear the site leaving acres of sterile wasteland. This long strip of former woodland will form the main pedestrian route through the Olympic Park, but for now it remains inaccessible brownfield. Meanwhile, on the opposite bank of the river, there's an alternative view of the Marshgate Lane industrial estate from the rear. The path passes brick warehouses and gleaming silver silos. It continues past a scrapyard with its own rowing boat and a quarter mile long tumbledown shed. An angry unshutuppable alsatian patrols the riverbank, incensed that you've dared encroach on his private domain. Expect considerably better security in 2012 when the Olympic Stadium touches down precisely here. For now the view remains distinctly lowrise, and unexpectedly photogenic.
Halfway along the footpath (don't worry, that's the worst of the impenetrable stuff over), a ramp leads up to the pedestrian entrance to Thornton Fields railway sidings. It's here, beneath gantries and criss-crossed power cables, that unwanted mainline trains are stored between the morning and evening peaks. But they'll be moving out too next year, to replacement sidings in Leyton, because the 2012 hamburger stalls have got to go somewhere. Back on the riverbank the skyline is dominated by a brand new apartment block - 18 storeys of pure white curviness. This is the Icona building, granted planning permission before the Olympic bid was won, and whose trademark red, yellow and green balconies will no doubt become a familiar feature of 2012 TV coverage. But it's still the glorious combination of overgrown footpath, tidal waterway and forbidding warehouses that makes this last stretch down to the Greenway a hidden treat. It's just a shame there was so little time to experience it.
In contrast to the myriad routeways through the bottom half of the Olympic Park, there's only one up top. Waterden Road runs due north between the two main channels of the River Lea, with a swathe of mostly brownfield land to either side. It ought to be a major cut-through for cars and lorries but instead it's used almost exclusively by local traffic. At its southern tip the road curves and humps over the North London railway line, before stuttering to a pause at a set of totally unnecessary traffic lights. These have been erected in preparation for the opening of Stratford International station, connected via a brand new link road which glides on concrete stilts across the river valley. Except that the station hasn't opened yet (and won't for years), so this virgin carriageway runs slap bang into a metal barrier, wasted and abandoned amidst a future Olympic construction site. Highway chiefs have at least now switched off the utterly pointless pelican crossing, but it was fun stopping the non-existent traffic while it lasted.
For a peek somewhere special, follow the side alley round the back of First's bus garage. If the gate's unlocked, and nobody's looking, you might be able to cross the footbridge into the green oasis of the Manor Garden allotments. Here generations of Hackneyfolk have cultivated treasured plots of land, bringing forth vegetables and flowers (and even more vegetables). The 80 allotments run for more than quarter of a mile altogether, sandwiched in a thin strip of land between two rivers, and perched high enough up to afford a fine view over the surrounding valley. Most of the sheds and gardening equipment have seen better days, and none of the plots would ever grace the Chelsea Flower Show, but that's part of the charm of the place. Even when there's nobody around you can feel a very real sense of community in the air - this is somewhere to relax as well as to grow. But the Olympics are cutting short the final summer season, and the few remaining tenants are being allowed to hang around just long enough to gather in their last harvest. As dusk falls across this unique eco-friendly environment, I fear the temporary replacement allotments over in Leyton will be a wholly inadequate substitute.
Last Sunday lunchtime, back on Waterden Road, I watched a slow-moving procession bringing pre-Olympic closure one step further forward. A bright yellow JCB pulled up beside a lorry parked at the southern traffic lights and raised a single metal gate into the air. Workmen in fluorescent jackets used Stop/Go signs to halt the infrequent traffic and the JCB started to make its way gradually, cautiously, up to the northern end of the road. The gate dangled precariously in mid air, the driver taking particular care beneath low slung wires and cables, until the convoy reached a pair of sturdy steel posts recently bashed in beside the East London bus garage. Here the workmen proceeded to lower the hinges carefully into position, half blocking the road, before returning to fetch a matching gate for the opposite post.
Quartermile Lane was sealed off in January. "You can't come down here," said the security bloke emerging from his portakabin and striding up to the gate. "It's been closed off for ages, you know." The look in his eye suggested a muted excitement to finally have a potential intruder to talk to. Across the A12 Eastway, another none-too-sturdy security fence now prevents anybody from crossing into Bully Fen. A sign by the entrance proudly boasts the creation of acres of community woodland just seven years ago, with 4000 trees planted across a patch of barren wasteland. Olympic bulldozers are now busy recreating the former landscape. The last race at the Lea Valley Cycle Circuit took place last November, and the off-road race track is already being erased so that, ironically, the Olympic Velodrome and BMX Track can be erected in its place. You can't wander along the Channelsea River any more - the nearest East London ever got to a babbling rural stream. And the hidden green oasis inside the Bully Point Nature Reserve, that's gone too. All of the above, fenced off and inaccessible already.
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It's surprisingly easy to lock away 227 acres of Inner London. Much of the site is already hemmed in by railways, rivers and trunk roads, as well as an existing building site at Stratford City. Only a handful of gates are needed - seven across roads and four across towpaths. The concrete posts are already in place, and a series of "Road Closed" signs are ready and waiting beneath opaque plastic sheeting. It won't take long for workmen to secure the perimeter, probably sometime early tomorrow, and then that'll be it for public access until 2012.
But for the rest of us it's no go, not after today. Which is a shame, because an amble around the Bow Back Rivers is easily my very favourite local walk. Nothing quite compares to the mixture of industrial squalor, overgrown foliage and resilient wildlife to be found here where London's three poorest boroughs meet. Thankfully there'll still be alternative routes that are almost-as-good, because the Olympic Delivery Authority aren't quite closing everything. The towpath along the main River Lea navigation will remain open throughout the construction phase, as will the waterway itself. And the Greenway, which cuts right across the middle of the 2012 building site, will continue to be accessible throughout to pedestrians and cyclists alike. This footpath runs along the top of a giant Victorian sewer, which I guess 21st century planners daren't even possibly tamper with. I'm delighted, because this raised walkway will allow an almost perfect view of Olympic Stadium development over the next half-decade.
