Hillingdon Trail North

Having slept well, I woke to no pain, no discomfort and another beautiful day. What could I do but walk. This time I headed north along the Grand Union, deciding to do the northern half of the Hillingdon Trail. Again I had to walk a long way just to pick it up but the canal walk had its rewards. Coots, mallard, swan, geese, heron, tufted duck, cormorant, black headed gull and mergansers were the easily spotted water fowl. I heard the cuckoo, the green and (saw a) great spotted woodpeckers. Swallows appeared today, I saw none yesterday. The hedgerows were alive with chaffinches, robins, dunnocks, wrens and blackbirds all calling and singing. Chiffchaffs and tits added a wonderful counterpoint.

Unperturbed by a lack of a map yesterday, today I carried nothing - I decided that house keys and money were the only things the iPhone couldn't replace. The GPS on the phone played havoc with battery so I couldn't really use it. But I used the money to buy myself soup and a rib-eye streak at the Coy Carp on the canal, in competition with Little Britain-like hordes; tattoo's were obviously big at Christmas and many were getting shown for the first time. And sorry, I think builders bum has become the new cleavage; no gender discrimination perhaps? Feeling re-energised and re-hydrated, I headed back down to the ANZAC cemetery across from where I used to live in Harefield, passing just below Edwinns where Lia and I had lunch recently. Then climbed up to Ruislip Common which includes Mad Bess Wood and the famous Ruislip Lido. I enjoyed a 99 there along with thousands of families who thronged the banks and beaches.

Hillingdon Trail South

The weather here was gorgeous and I was trapped by volcanic ash (and that's my excuse for not helping at home this weekend). I couldn't not go walking. Especially since I'd done this walk two years ago on the same weekend.

I went south along the Grand Union Canal, going from Uxbridge to Cranford Park, a ten kilometre hike just to get get to my starting point. The weather was glorious and there was much to see. There was a little girl blowing bubbles from a narrow boat; they lit up the waterway as the bubbles glistened and changed colour in the still air. The banks were adorned with wild plums (sloe or blackthorn to you and me) in effusive and effulgent blossom. The mallard, watchful but proud with up to twelve ducklings. It was perfectly quiet under the empty Heathrow flight path. Then I headed north on the Paddington spur, having met the intersection with the Hillingdon Trail at Bulls Bridge. There was a man in the canal, or so it first seemed. He was actually in a tiny boat like a box and he had a big filter on a scoop, arranged much like a bulldozer. He was cleaning the water and frankly, the Paddington spur needed it.

I spent a few minutes on the phone while in Willow Tree Reserve and despite serious discussions about granite paving, I will admit to being a bit distracted by a cob aggressively and repeatedly waging territorial war on two disaffected Canada Geese. Someone had removed one of the signs and I took a slight detour which meant I saw what Tesco have done to Yeading (I'm not sure outsiders are supposed to) and I won't be going back. Of course, if I'd brought a decent map it might have been easier.