The Changing Skyline

At intervals along the Thames and on the bridges crossing the river there are a number of plaques showing the key buildings and monuments spread out in the vista before you. The stupefying rate of new building and developments taking place in the City of London in recent years means that these plaques are already out of date - there's the Gherkin but no sign of the Cheesegrater or the Walkie Talkie (spectacularly ugly when viewed from afar but dizzyingly impressive when standing directly underneath and looking upwards). A forest of cranes is sprouting up on this stretch of the Thames so no doubt shortly there will be many more of these giants, dwarfing both the ugly 70s and 80s buildings fronting the river as well as the classic proportions of the old city churches, Fishmongers' Hall and on the other side of London Bridge, Old Billingsgate Market and the Custom House. It saddens me to see the churches in particular with their spires almost struggling to reach the light, hemmed in on all sides by these monoliths - like delicate wild flowers being bullied by rampant weeds! It makes you wonder when this will all stop and what sort of City we are going to bequeath to future generations.

Turning away from the river and looking to the sky on this south bank, you can see the top of the Shard trying to mimic the turret of Southwark Cathedral - I like to think of it as an homage, a little piece of visual inspiration. The path soon deviates away from the river and takes you past the Clink prison and the old ruined Winchester Palace, the replica Golden Hind and the rather depressing array of fast food restaurants and tourist haunts, before emerging again in a quiet little spot to rest and look upon the passing river whilst contemplating Sir Walter Raleigh's words:

There are two things scarce matched in the universe - the sun in heaven and the Thames on earth......

Glittering and Shimmering

London never looked so fine as when I set out last week on another amble along the Thames, my route taking me from London Bridge to Southwark Bridge and back the other side. This time I made sure to monitor my photographic output so my battery didn't run out on the return leg!

The pleasure in the air was almost palpable as I stepped out onto the riverside path - people were everywhere enjoying the winter sunshine - strolling, running, eating lunch, chatting on the phone or just taking some quiet time to enjoy the view or read a book. Unlike the Seine and many other European rivers, until recently I hadn't really associated the Thames with public recreation. In fact, access to the riverbanks in this central area of London is easy apart from a few stretches where the path deviates away from the waterside. Contrast this to many areas both up and downstream which are being heavily developed with upmarket apartment complexes and where public access is increasingly thwarted, as featured in an article in the Guardian this week. As I venture further west, I'm sure I will encounter this problem.

The great ribbon of water creates myriad effects in the sunshine - glittering and shimmering, reflecting itself in the plate glass of the buildings thronging the riverbanks, slipping in and out of view, under bridges and behind parapets, then suddenly reappearing as a tantalising sliver of silver down some steep steps......

The great cord of humanity

The final leg of my first journey crossing the bridges of the River Thames.....a watery world, a palette of soft blues, greys and browns, reflections of water and sky, changing colour as the sun comes out and goes in.....

In Thames: Sacred River, Peter Ackroyd describes London Bridge as 'a great cord of humanity' linking the past to the present:

"It is the most frequented of all bridges, the great highway of the city. If we may speak in an Aboriginal sense of a songline, or dreamline, of London, then it is represented by this path across the river. It is a great cord of humanity. It creates the great stream of human beings, contracted and innumerable, which in itself becomes a river echoing the Thames. For a brief passage, vehicles and people are brought into relation with the push and flow of the sea. The wind and the dust, the noise of the traffic and the cry of the gulls, are brought together.

There are no buildings upon it, as there were in past ages of the bridge. Now the pedestrians are outlined against the sky and framed by the water beneath their feet; they are caught between immensities. They become frail and evanescent, a pilgrimage of passing souls suspended between the elements. Over the bridge cross all the varieties of human character with no complicity, or community of interest, between them. They are together but alone; they evince expressions of endurement or of merriment, of suffering or of abstraction. It is the most suggestive of all bridges; it has evoked in many writers and artists, phantasmal or oneiric images."

On the day I was there, the passage of souls was relatively modest, but I have witnessed the huge surge of humanity streaming across the bridge at the end of the day, headed for home, each trapped in their own little bubble, heedless of their travelling companions. It is a sight to behold and marvel at!

Picturing the Shard

Here are some more photographs from my wander along the Thames the other week, crossing Tower Bridge and London Bridge - up one side of the river and down the other. Of course, there was no getting away from the Shard. Soaring upwards out of the muddle of buildings on the south bank, it duplicates itself in myriad forms, whether reflected and distorted in the many glass windows facing the river like some crazed doppelganger of its true self, or rising dreamlike through the clouds mirrored in a puddle. Compared to many of the buildings appearing on the skyline in the City of London, the Shard is elegant and graceful. It is one of a kind, although if and when other skyscrapers inevitably start to mushroom around it, its presence will be diminished. Even though it is an emblem for the worst excesses of greed and extreme wealth in our society, I can't help but appreciate its beauty......

Marshland sights and sounds

On my last visit to Swanscombe Marsh I was initially struck by the sense of peace and quiet but the more I wandered, the more my ear became attuned to the variety of sounds in the landscape. Whenever I stood still to concentrate and take a photograph, I became aware of the insistent, sibilant rustling of the reeds, the creaking of the willows, the warbling and chattering of various birds and the occasional strident cry of an unseen pheasant that seemed to be stalking me. The mournful, melancholy hooting of the riverboats and the distant background clanking and beeping of machinery were a constant reminder of the human activity taking place on the periphery of the site. In the little creek the masts of the boats rattled and jangled and the wind tugged at the flapping tarpaulin.

Everywhere were signs of life emerging from the long sleep of winter - trees in bud, pussy willows and silver birch, yellow coltsfoot, an incongruous clump of daffodils, and fat bumblebees lazily buzzing around. As well as the flocks of black headed gulls circling the river, I also saw mallards, coots, magpies, pigeons, and some sort of unidentified warbler swooping low over the grass. Other signs of activity were less welcome - the burnt patches of grass and evidence of pollution in the pools testifying to man's intervention in the landscape. Nature, however, seems to be able to adapt and make the best of things in the most inhospitable and unpromising places..... 

Spring comes to Swanscombe Marsh

Typical April weather with a stiff breeze, intermittent sunshine and scudding clouds transformed the marsh on my last visit there two weeks ago. The sun lifted the palette of soft yellows and greens, highlighting the buds bursting on the bushes and bringing alive the reed beds. Occasional patches of yellow flowers nestled on the beds of the stream and the wind rippled the surface of the water in the pools, the reflected sky turning them a deep blue. The whole place felt scrubbed and fresh and my winter cobwebs were blown away. I came away feeling uplifted.

Whilst pottering around the little creek where the boats are moored I met one of the inhabitants - a man who has been building a houseboat there for about a year. He gave me a bit of background information about the place: officially a boat club, in reality it is a place where men come to tinker with their boat building and renovating projects. He was a local man and had previously worked on the river for years, but had only recently been aware of the existence of the creek.

The boats are in a variety of states - some only worth scrap like the huge barge waiting for a tide high enough to float it and be taken away, and some like the battleship built from scratch. One or two people live there but the majority visit off and on. It has a delightfully dilapidated, ramshackle air but you can easily imagine that the people using it view it as a sort of haven, an escape from work and the chores of everyday life. What will happen to it if and when the theme park gets built is not known but I would hazard a guess that Paramount would  prefer to have a neat and tidy sanitised version!