Lakeside, a progress report

17 November 2016

With the Gosport Half Marathon at the weekend and a four day running event in Cyprus hot on its heels, plus bucketsfulls of rain, this  week was mostly spent running about making preparations. There was little time for interesting walks but, as the sun was shining today, I thought I’d better make the most of it and check out the progress on the new visitor centre at Lakeside. 

The walk across Riverside Park was slightly slower than it could have been because it looked as if the whole park was paved with gold and I couldn’t help stopping for photos. This slow to start autumn has suddenly gone into overdrive and every tree is like a golden beacon.

For the sake of time I turned away from the park at Woodmill and made my way along Wessex Lane towards Wide Lane. It may have been faster but it was far less scenic and I couldn’t help looking longingly along Monks Brook trickling gently under the road as I passed.

From there I marched at top speed towards the airport and onwards in the direction of Eastleigh, a walk I have taken so many times I feel I could do it with my eyes closed. At the entrance to Lakeside I finally left the busy road behind and set off along the lane towards the lakes. The small steam railway was closed down for winter as far as I could see, although the coffee shop looked as if it might have been open. When I last came this way the new visitor centre was still being built but I was hopeful it would now be open. In fact, as I went through the gate onto the lake side trail, I was looking forward to seeing what the cafe facilities were like.

Disappointment followed. Although the building looked complete the doors and shutters were closed and there was nothing at all cafe like in sight. It was hard to get a proper feel of the building from close up so I headed off towards the boating lake where a group of men, well wrapped against the cold, were sailing model boats.

From the far side of the lake I had a far better view of the visitor centre, or would have had if the sun hadn’t been behind it and in my eyes. Even so I took a couple of photos before marching onwards.

The second lake always seems to be mostly about fishing but I was surprised to see a little tent and a man on the bank with a rod. It may have been a bright day but it seemed far too cold to be standing about on the edge of a lake in the hope of catching a fish. As I snapped a quick photo the man looked towards me, probably wondering what I was doing marching around the lakes on such a cold day with no chance of a fish at all. Each to their own I suppose.

The water of the lake seemed so flat and calm I couldn’t imagine there were fish in there at all but there were several more fishermen dotted along the banks so I suppose there must be. The trail along the far side was muddy and slightly slippery forcing me to watch my footing. Thankfully, once I reached the bridge between the lakes things dried out a little.

At the third lake I hoped to see swans and maybe even cygnets. All I got were a few ducks and some pretty reflections. Where the swans had gone was a mystery. Perhaps they were hiding on the island or maybe all the building work on the visitor centre had frightened them away altogether?

When I reached the new building I discovered it wasn’t quite as closed as I’d first thought. One set of doors was open and, when I got closer, I discovered these were the doors to the new toilet block. Of course I went inside to check out the facilities and make use of them.

Sadly, this seemed to be the only part of the building that was open. The shutters were firmly down on the part that looked as it it might be a cafe. There were some attractive looking wooden benches under a wood clad awning and I climbed the steps and sat on one to drink the iced coffee I’d brought with me. It was a pleasant place to spend a few moments with a wonderful view of the boating lake. The men with their model boats had disappeared while I’d been walking and the gulls had taken up residence.

The new, curved building, with its stone walls and dark wood cladding seems a lovely, unobtrusive addition to the lakes. There were so many interesting looking doors and windows I couldn’t help wishing it was open so I could see what they were all going to be.

Time wasn’t on my side today so I couldn’t linger at Lakeside and was soon marching back towards Monks Brook. This time I decided to walk through, at least as far as the blue bridge and then cut back onto Wessex Lane and Woodmill for the sake of time. The trees by the gate were a mass of golden leaves but the  path towards the blue bridge was mostly dry and surprisingly leaf free when the tallest of the trees were bare.

This was never going to be a gentle stroll as I had far too much to do for that but I did stop to admire the crop of mistletoe in one tree and again to take a picture of the blue bridge as I walked right past it.

The trail beyond the blue bridge got progressively wetter until I reached a patch of thick mud stretching across the whole path. A tentative poke with my boot told me walking further would not be a good plan unless I fancied a swim. There was nothing for it but to turn back. Half way along the path behind the houses I realised I had meant to tun off at the blue bridge and head back through Woodmill. By then I’d gone too far to make this a worthwhile time saving exercise though, especially as I’d already turned back once, so I carried on to Mansbridge.

On the bridge a small group of people were gathered, throwing roses into the water. Perhaps these were in remembrance for someone, or something lost in the dark water. My accidental route change did at least give me another look at the bright leafed liquid amber trees before all their leaves have fallen. There were more on the ground than on the trees but they still put on a lovely show.

My mistake also gave me a lovely view of ducks swimming in the deep blue river on puddles of amber and green reflected from the trees on the far bank. As I stood watching a single stemmed red rose floated past but it was too far away to really capture in my photo.

Across the road by the mill I took to the grass in an effort to make up the time I’d lost. Even so, I couldn’t help but stop for a last trio of photos of my favourite oak, it’s leaves now burnished bronze, before I stomped up the slope towards home and  the packing I’ve been putting off all week.

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