Plane spotting

30 September 2015

One of the things that’s fast becoming apparent with my drive walk efforts is the difficulty of finding somewhere to park. In the kind of places I want to go to walk this is turning out to be harder than I thought. On Wednesday morning I spent an inordinate amount of time scanning Google Maps trying to find somewhere near the lakes at Allbrook. Never having been there on foot I naively thought there’d be a car park somewhere. Turns out there wasn’t. Eventually I realised I’d been looking at the maps so long I no longer had time for the walk I wanted even if I’d found a car park, which I hadn’t.

In the end I decided on a completely different walk, starting at what is fast becoming my favourite car park, at the White Swan. For ages I’ve been promising to take CJ to the field just off the Itchen Navigation where you can see the airport runway. Back in April I took a side path I’d been wondering about for a while and discovered it. Sadly, I didn’t have time to stay long and didn’t see a single plane take off or land. Ever since, I’d been meaning to go back. Maybe, if I’d been more organised, I’d have taken a picnic and we could have had our lunch there. As it was, the best I could manage was a carrier bag with my walking boots in case it was muddy. Heaven help me if I got mud on the car mats!

The car park was reassuringly empty and I parked in an inobtrusive corner. This is, after all, a car park for patrons of the pub, not for people who are wandering off along the Itchen Navigation. Still, I think I’ve spent enough money in this particular pub in my time to deserve a little lenience. In the interests of fairness, we did start of with a coffee in the pub garden, looking out over the river and, behind the trees, the water meadows beyond. CJ became quite entranced with the ducks swimming past and he swore he saw a fish. Given the number of fishermen who line these banks I guess there must be enough of them in there so maybe he did.

Suitably fortified we set off across Mansbridge onto the Navigation trail. CJ has never walked the Navigation before so the narrow, overgrown trail was a bit of a revelation for him, especially knowing how often I’ve walked it on my own. Across the wooden bridge to Mansbridge Lock the waterside was filled little with white asters I don’t remember seeing when I passed by with Commando on Sunday. We stopped for a moment to admire them.

CJ was entranced by the old brickwork of the lock reflected in the still water and we stood for a while watching a dragonfly dancing about just out of camera range.
“I’m sure they do it on purpose,” I told him, “just to tease us.”
Then I showed him the triangular Navigation marker, the first on the old waterway.
“There should be one at Northam too,” CJ said, “as that’s where it actually starts.”
“I couldn’t agree more. It’s a shame the council don’t agree.”

We walked single file along the narrow track bordered behind the trees on one side by the roaring motorway and the other the peaceful fields of Itchen Valley Country Park. In places CJ had to stoop to nevigate the tunnels of trees, something I’ve never had to consider myself. Over the noise of the traffic I explained that this was a diversion as, when the motorway was built, the Navigation was blocked off.
“Why didn’t they just build a bridge?” he asked.
“Money I guess. It would have made this walk much easier and a good deal quieter though. Apparently they did leave it in such a way it could be reinstated if the canal was ever reopened though. Wouldn’t it be great if it was?”
Finally we came to the motorway bridge over the Itchen and we were back on the real Navigation.
“These are the old water meadows,” I told CJ, pointing through the gate on the other side of the bridge. “We can come back that way if you like?”

On we went along the trail, quieter now without the motorway running beside us. We saw a squirrel dashing up a tree but he was too quick for our cameras. As the trail began to rise I knew we were nearing Sandy Lock.
“There’s still some brickwork left but, at this time of year with all the leaves on the trees, it’ll be hard to spot,” I said.
We stood and peered.
“Look mum, is that it?” said CJ. With his younger, sharper eyes he’d spotted it and we took photos.
Later, when I looked back at the pictures I’d taken it took me a long time to see the crumbling old bricks between the trees and leafy growth or the round plaque proclaiming this to be Sandy Lock. My son has keen eyes!

Not long after this the water meadows to our right opened up as the trees thinned out and I knew we weren’t far from the side trail that would lead us to the airport. With such an overgrown trail though I knew I’d have to be vigilant or I’d miss it. Our pace slowed as I kept watch and, when we came to a gate onto the water meadows, I knew we were more or less there. It would have been easy to overlook, the brambles and ivy almost covered the track and it was barely wide enough for one of my boots.

As we scrambled up the steep slope I’m sure CJ thought I was leading him on a wild goose chase but, at the top, sure enough it opened up onto the field beside the airport runway. We strode through the rough grass towards the fence as a plane we’d heard landing but hadn’t been able to see through the trees taxied to the end of the runway. When we got there we found a dryish spot to set up camp and I set about checking Google for the time of the next landing or take off. It seemed we had about a quarter of an hour to wait and I wished I’d thought to bring a picnic lunch to occupy us.

An airport police car drove up and down the edge of the runway not far from us and at first I wondered if they were going to come to the fence and question us. The laws on taking pictures of aircraft is hazy to say the least, not so long ago a group of plane spotters were arrested and found guilty of espionage for doing just that. This may have been good old England and I’d hardly call myself a plane spotter, although I guess, right then, that was exactly what I was doing, but you can’t be too careful. Then again, I don’t think either of us look like spy material. As it was the police left us alone and soon enough we saw our flight taxiing onto the end of the runway. CJ chose to go down the video route which, in hindsight, was probably the best decision. I stuck to traditional photography but the fence and the speed with which the plane left the ground made for less exciting photos than I’d hoped.

My first foray into the world of plane spotting may not have been as successful as I’d hoped but we’d got what we came for. We’d seen a flight take off and, as the next wasn’t for some time, it was time to go. Walking back towards the narrow track we’d climbed I noticed the path through the rough grass seemed to lead in the opposite direction too. Back at the end of August I walked the Navigation in search of another side trail a little further on I thought I’d seen on Google Maps. It seemed it would lead me to Eastleigh and I thought I knew how to get onto it but, somehow, I missed it. Maybe I’d been on the wrong track all along because it looked very much to me as if this path through the grass might be what I’d been looking for. Sadly, time was getting on so I will have to come back another day and check it out.

So it was back to the trail through the tunnels of trees until we got to the motorway bridge and the gate to the meadows. On Sunday, when I walked through them with Commando, we’d had to skirt a group of cows on the path. Commando was almost as nervous of them as I was and we were both pleased when we got past unscathed. Thankfully there were no cows this time and we made good progress across the meadows until we came to the fields behind the White Swan. This was where the cows were hiding although they were a good distance from us. Unlike his father, CJ seems to have no inbuilt nervousness of large animals and he decided to yomp across the meadow towards them.

Despite my misgivings I followed. After all I’m his mother so I guess it’s my duty to protect him. Quite what I’d have done if the cows had attacked remains to be seen and I kept well behind him in an act of self preservation. The cows watched us getting closer. They looked as nervous as I felt. While I hung back CJ got far nearer than I felt was sensible and took several photos. It was a relief when he decided enough was enough and we turned back to the trail.

As we got to Mansbridge Lock a plane came over low and loud. It seemed to be a plane spotting kind of day. Rounding the bend by the bridge we also spotted swans on the river by the pub. They made a change from cows or planes and it really wouldn’t be a walk along the river without a swan or two. Besides, I feel a lot better about getting up close and personal with them than the cows.