Back to our hike. We started in Putney, wandering up to Putney Heath, which looks oh so far away on the map. In reality, it's a 15 minute bus ride or about 25 minutes to walk. Not far at all really. Being able to scale time from a map is a skill that continues to elude me. But we walked on, because it was beautiful and we were discovering some very nice residential streets.
Then the heath presented itself. I really had very little idea of what an actual heath was until I went to York a few years ago. With Wuthering Heights in my head, I was a bit startled to discover that a heath very strongly resembles the prairie, but not as vast. Clara lives on a heath and it is a beautiful large open space of grass. Putney heath is very similar. How they differ from Richmond Park, another beautiful large open space of grass, I'm unclear. And how that again differs from a Common, no clue.
Putney Heath was lovely. The sun dappled through the leaves. Winds kept us from hearing any traffic. Birds chirped, Dan + I chatted. It was going so very well and we had both remarked on how happy we were to have not spent Saturday in the house, he recovering from the previous night, me doing very little other than reading, when we stumbled upon this:
Can a scene be any more quintessentially British? I'm actually dying to go watch a cricket match but the two people I know who do indeed play have yet to actually indoctrinate me. We watched for a bit, understanding nothing but the lazy day nature of it all and then carried on with our hike.
A quick detour through the town of Merton brought us to their church, which was open for a craft sale. Not many crafts, to be honest, but the kneeler cushions made such a fantastic display, it deserved a photograph.
I'm unclear if they are standard issue or if I could make my own. That would sort of stake my place in the pew but it also makes it a bit of a challenge upon entering on Sunday. Where did the cleaners move it to this week? Who knows, it could make for a lively congregation.
We left the church and headed for Richmond Park. It was an odd walk. The route took us through a council estate that was a great urban planning failure in the 60s. It was a great idea, housing people in tall apartment blocks surrounded by open parkland, but it did fail to take into account the need to have outdoor space of ones own, where morning coffee can be consumed in pajamas without the neighbors watching. We wandered through, remarking that neither of us would want to be doing this in the dark but during the day it was fine. And neither of us could understand why this was in a Scenic Walks of London book. None too quickly, we were at the gates to Richmond Park.
That, my friends, is not what I call a park. That is what I call countryside. But it is entirely surrounded by London. I can take the tube there. I knew that it was large, from the map, and I do recall that it is Henry VIII's favored hunting ground, and I further knew that a large colony of deer lived and roamed there, but none of that influenced the sheer vastness of the place in my head. We took a small corner of the park and that alone took us an hour.
We did see the famous deer, admittedly from afar.
I was very excited, but did muse a bit that stupidly, these deer were far more exciting than the deer back home in Wyoming. Then again, these deer were placidly grazing in the sun while the deer in Wyoming are generally placidly standing on the road while people hurtle toward them a 80 mph in a car. I can appreciate the excitement factor is a bit more entertaining in the first instance.
Onward we walked, among people on bikes, kids on razors, strollers, and tricycles. People were flying kites, riding horses. This group of ladies serenaded us for a good 5 minutes with strains of Happy Birthday and For She's a Jolly Good Fellow.
I want a birthday party pony ride! How great would that be? Before the birthday drinks, obviously. Although they were all wearing helmets. Still though, champagne and ponies might lead to trouble.
Out the Robin Hood Gate of Richmond Park and into Wimbledon Common we went. The common is nearly as large as the park, which wasn't a very exciting prospect at this point. My feet were desperate for a pint and we were only at the 3/4 mark of the trail. A lovely 3/4 mark though.
There is a heron in there somewhere, along with ducks. Just a small little pond to keep things interesting. It does amaze me that this is completely surrounded by urban London. Or perhaps that should be suburban London. Wimbeldon Common has a tube stop as well. And it's only zone 3.
A not-so-quick detour through Putney Vale cemetery, historic but not nearly as atmospheric as Brompton or Highgate Cemeteries, brought us to the last wild portion of the hike. A bit of woods, a bit birds singing, a bit of traffic humming in the back ground.
Finally, we found the Green Man Pub, the end of our walk. My feet have never been so happy for a pint.
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