I didn't have time to pop in on M for a cuppa so I carried onto the next one,
Chelsea Bridge, which connects Chelsea ( unsurprisingly) to Battersea in South London. Opened in 1937, it is a pretty metal construction and very pleasing on the eye.
I rode along the south bank, hoping to get close to the iconic
Battersea Power Station. I came to a dead end where someone had very inconsiderately dumped a huge hotel by the riverside, blocking the cycle path. Equally flummoxed by this was another cyclist who also was having trouble trying to work out how to rejoin the cycle path. His name was Martin and he was from Katowice in Poland. His route home pretty much followed my route and we joined up for the ride west along the Thames and was a nice guy to ride with. He even bought into my mad plan of riding all of London's bridges and even offered to take my photo at each one, I was very grateful for that.
I should add Martin's reason for being here was to get at close to the power station as possible. So we tried a few options but were met with huge security doors, locked fences and obstinate security guards. We cycled past a very expensive hotel where a private helicopter approached, ruining the Sunday peace and quiet, and landed to whisk away some rich businessman. As we rode away we noticed it wasn't the only one as several helicopters landed at the hotel. We could barely hide our disdain.
Crossing Eighteen : Chelsea Bridge ( Taken by Martin)
Next up was the spectacular Victorian construction,
The Albert Bridge. In my opinion one of the most distinctive bridges on the whole Thames. We had given up on getting closer to the Power Station and carried on my quest. It was nice to have a little company.
Crossing Nineteen: Albert Bridge
( it does say that, honestly)
As close as we got...
On the south side I had a little surprise, the cycle path became a mud path, like a mountain bike path. Fine for joggers and Martin on his mountain bike, not so great for my pannier laden road bike. I slowed down to avoid several deep muddy puddles, but this allowed me to take in the view of the Thames, now taking on a distinctly fresh water look with rowing clubs dotted frequently along the bank.
Next on the route was
Battersea Bridge, London's narrowest road bridge at just 40 feet wide. It positioned on a sharp bend on the Thames and over the years has been closed several times due to collisions. It's quite a handsome bridge with faux gold designs, however it's narrowness makes it quite hazardous to cyclists if you are unlucky enough to have an impatient motorist behind you. With only roads leading away from the river I simply rode over the bridge to the north side and immediately doubled back to the south side and rejoined the muddy path west with Martin waiting for me at the start of Battersea Park. He must have been a little bewildered at my madcap plan.
Crossing Twenty: Battersea Bridge.
It was a one mile trek along to the next bridge, alongside a nice and again muddy path to the next one, and very busy with joggers,walkers and dog walkers. My bell got good use here!
I got to
Wandsworth Bridge in a short time. It's not the most spectacular bridge, it's just a functional road bridge. I stopped for the photo and moved on to the next.
Crossing Twenty One: Wandsworth Bridge
Crossing Twenty Two: Putney Bridge
Putney Bridge from the riverbank.
With my legs now tiring we continued on to my next bridge, the very distinctive green Hammersmith Bridge, designed by Joseph Bazelgette. It is a suspension bridge that was built in 1887. It's a beautiful bridge, and even though time was against me I had to stop for a minute or two to take in the spectacle of one of London's most impressive bridges. Incidentally, there is a theory that suggests the green of this bridge represents the green seating of the House of Commons just like the red on Vauxhall Bridge represents the other house.
Crossing Twenty Three: Hammersmith Bridge
View from the Bridge of it's distinctive green construction.
We cycled down to the next bridge,The Barnes Railway Bridge. This was serious tick box stuff but as it's a legal method of crossing the Thames it had to be done. It was a mile upriver and was merely a footpath next to the railway track on the bridge. Martin had no trouble with his 9kg bike, my road bike weighed considerably more and was quite tough to carry up.
Crossing Twenty Four: Barnes Railway Bridge.
We cycled through some back streets on the north side of the Thames, making a brief detour through what we hoped would be a short cut through a park- it wasn't- to the next one,
Chiswick Bridge, an average looking road bridge than gave no reason to linger. I felt like I was taking advantage of Martin's good nature at this point by instinctively handing him my camera for this photo!
Crossing Twenty Five: Chiswick Bridge
Martin suggested a beer and with time running short and tiredness increasing it seemed a good idea. Just one more crossing today which would mean my quest would continue into another day. I had hoped to finish today but it wasn't to be. Last up would be Kew Bridge. I hadn't completely given up on squeezing in one more more but it being a Sunday I didn't want to head to far west late into the evening. I would decide finally over a pint, but I was fairly confident Kew would be the last.
Kew Bridge was opened in 1903 and is a Grade II listed structure and a mile upriver from Chiswick.
Crossing Twenty Six: Kew Bridge
We rode to a pub Martin knew and had a welcome pint. I'd planned to buy him a pint for endulging me in my bridges tour of London, not to mention the invaluable photographic assistance. For that I was truly grateful . Not having to assess each passer by for risk of stealing my camera was very nice and he really helped me out. Martin though, insisted on buying. We sat outside in a beer garden, the peace and quiet only ruined by an awful covers band in the pub ruining Hey Jude amongst others. Before I could buy him a beer back he announced he had to leave to meet a friend. He asked for the address of this blog and maybe we'll meet up again so I can buy my round! He was a nice guy and it was nice sharing the last stage of the ride with him.
I now had a deadline. Netherlands v Portugal in Euro 2012 kicked off in an hour and I was in West London. I'd never get home in time so decided to get back to Fenchurch Street and find a pub. I went to the nearby Kew Bridge mainline station but was dismayed to find out that SouthWest trains that run from there into Waterloo only run an hourly service- and I had just missed one. So I had no choice but to locate the nearest District Line tube station and head back east that way. Luckily Gunnersbury was minutes away and after a short wait I began the laborious 39 min- stopping 18 time- journey to Tower Hill. It was shortly after kick off when I arrived and with the help of a underground employee found a pub showing the football, only to find it was the wrong game, the Germany one. I rode on and came across what I thought was a pub. I went in and found out they were showing both games. The very friendly and accommodating manager told me they had no secure bike locking facilities but very generously offered to lock my bike in "the luggage room". I wasn't in a pub, I was in a quite trendy City Hotel called the Chamberlain. The manager was a real star and went out of his way to make me feel welcome. He really didn't have to let me store my bike there, especially as I wasn't a guest but he insisted saying " relax, have a pint, enjoy the game"
The game didn't go to plan but I had a nice time chatting to an Irish guy called Jim and later a German guy called Fritz*. We had a lively chat debating English and German mentalities and approaches to football. He couldn't understand England's mentality and lack of preparation of penalty shoot outs and it was an enjoyable end to my day.
I left the bar and went to reception to get my bike, my eye drawn to a sign with the room tariffs, highest price, £325 a night! I didn't even have to get it myself, the receptionist radioed to a someone, and shortly after a smartly uniformed porter complete with posh hat wheeled my bike through reception and handed me my crash hat. A surreal end to a good day.
Total Mileage: 32.
* Fritz wasn't his name, I never actually caught it, just gave him a pseudonym for the purposes of the blog
** When I got home I realised I'd missed a bridge, The Fulham Railway bridge which will have to be done next time. Bugger