Cycling the Thames Valley

It was ten in the morning on a warm summers day in London, I was standing outside the large black and gold

gates of Buckingham Palace, home to Queen Elizabeth II; I was admiring the architecture of the palace eventually fixing my gaze onto the famous balcony which is where royals have stood to wave over the cheering crowd for centuries.

I placed my bum onto the not so comfy seat of my cycling bike, the plan was to cycle from Buckingham Palace in Central London over to the Berkshire city of Reading just west of London, whilst following the well known Thames river. I slowly made my way through the busy streets of this concrete jungle over towards Westminister, I absolutely love the iconic buildings of London, there is truly nowhere else in the world like them.

I parked my bike infront of the famous Westminister Abbey, I gazed my hands across the wall feeling the cold brick that has been shadowed from the sun, the abbey was one of the oldest buildings in the area, founded in the year of 960 the design of the building was astonishing, I followed the building around to the side to find the soaring stained glass windows, the abbey was a lot smaller than what I thought it was going to be but this doesn't take away the beauty of such a building.

Cycling down Broad Sanctuary street passing the smaller white 16th century St Margarets Church a came to the world iconic Houses of Parliment with Big Ben towering high above my head, I was slowly making my way past the main gate to the building, a few police men guarded the entrance keeping a watchful eye on everyone passing by, looking up at Big Ben it is hard to ever imagine what London would be like without it, the clock tower itself was opened in 1859 during the British industrial revolution, I am sure Big Ben has seen many changes over the years, the landscape of London had changed so much but Big Ben looked like it has never been touched.

Sitting next to the Houses of Parliment watching over the building where he may have spent most of his political life was the statue of Winston Churchill, one of the most famous British Prime Minister's who helped us win the war against Nazi Germany by his war strategies, some of his most famous war time speeches are 'War Speech', 'Our

Finest Hour', 'We shall fight them on the beaches' and the 'victory speech' which kept the morale up of the British people during the dark times of the mid 20th century; the black statue stands proudly in Westminister on top of a white base of him as an older man leaning on his walking stick that he always took with him everywhere he goes.

I crossed over the highly congested Westminister Bridge which rises high above the brown snake named the Thames to the other side, there I had a breathtaking view of the Houses of Parliment, the building gave off a golden shine which dominated the river bank, it is truly an outstanding building and one of the most well designed in the whole world, this iconic building is home to the British government and since it opened in late 1800s it has been home to some of the most important political moments of British political history as well as famous politicians such as

Winston Churchill, the first female prime minister Margaret Thatcher, the unpopular Tony Blair and the decendent of King William IV who is David Cameron.

This isn't the original building, the medieval Houses of Parliment was much smaller, there is a famous story of Guy Fawkes who tried to blow up the Houses of Parliment killing everyone inside, including the King, he wanted to a rebellion against the Protestant government and to raise the Catholics to take arms, but of course this would of never of worked because at the time only around 10% of the population were Catholics, if Guy Fawkes did managed to cause a terrorist attack in the heart of medival London, he would of certainly made matters worse for his fellow Catholic people.

I followed the Thames west out of London passing the well known London Eye, a gigantic white wheel which you could see the whole of London from the top towars Battersea; cycling in London was very tricky as the UK isn't like our neighbouring European countries which have adapted cycling as a way of life, the faded coloured cycle lanes our occasionally ignored by fellow road users which made the experience of cycling in London quite frightening, I was just waiting for the moment to fall under one of the famous red London buses, I was watching everyone and everything trying to avoid getting in people way whilst at the same time trying to catch up to other cyclist so I am not hogging the cycle lane, I much prefer cycling out in the countryside instead of the heart of this beating city.

As I was passing next to Battersea I could see the famous reddish brown power station with the tall white chimneys in the distance, once you are off the main roads and onto a proper path cycling in London isn't so bad, but all for a sudden I felt a drag in my back wheel as if something was trying to pull me back to the chaos I had left behind, all for a sudden I was stumbling to the floor loosing my balance and grazing my knee, my back wheel had totally fallen apart; I picked up all of my pocessions that had fallen around me and managed to put my back wheel together again, I searched on my phone for the nearest cycling shop, Halfords was close by but it meant that I had to go off track and into a part of London I don't know as it was right

in the centre of Battersea, I made my way through the daunting tower block estates to the small shopping areaa of Battersea, the orange sign of Halfords stood out like a mirage in the hot desert, after navigating my way through Battersea I couldn't believe I had found the Halfords shop; I went inside and was met with a friendly teenager with a strong London suburbs accent, he reminded me of Tinchy Stryder; within forty minutes my bike was fixed after putting on a completly new tire, but that was forty minutes out of my day planned which means I was now way behind my schedule.

Heading west I was slowly making my way through the maze of western London I found myself surrounded by long grass that was gently waving in the warm summer breezes, it was hard to believe we were still in the colossal city of London, it felt like someone had teleported me to the Savana of Africa, the

skyline of the London tower blocks were positioned neatly at the park's outskirts just towering above the distant green tree line that seperates the urban environment with this magnificent ecosystem; I as welcomed with a cheery "hello" and "good day" from fellow cyclists and dog walkers who were enjoying this glorious sunshine, when you get to the heart of the park everyone disapperas, it felt like I was in the middle of the wilderness, the sound of crocking grasshoppers and the buzzing of flies replaced the constant noise of traffic and people, I stood there with my eyes closed under the shade of a tree and just listened, clearing my mind from all my troubles and just listening, I was nearly in a state of meditation when the russle of the tree above me snapped me back into focus, I swung my leg back over my bike and headed west out of the park towards the district of Kingston upon Thames.

The River Thames had gotten a lot thinner, the towering and iconic buildings of Central London had been

replaced by much larger houses with perfectly cut hedges in their front garden, it was truly one of the better sides of London; I carried on cycling following a red bricked wall which clinged closely to the path, I didn't take much notice but luckily I did other wise I would of missed the opportunity to be standing infront of Hampton Court Palace.

Hampton Court Palace is a magnificent building, the red bricks make the palace shine out from the sun light; the main gates of this historical building has seen many historical figures such as King Henry VIII, Katherine of Aragon, Catherine Howards, Charles I, Antonio Verrio and much more; I couldn't stay and explore the old palace passageways and corridors as I had a schedule to catch up on after my dreadful start in London, so I jumped back onto the saddle of my bike and started cycling once again, continuing to follow the Thames out of London.

The edges of London were such a splendid place to be, it was full of the rich and wealthy in their stately homes

near the river, teenagers the same age as my sister were on speed boats going up and down the Thames, with their shades on taking in the rays of the afternoon sun; as I was passing through I felt like a tramp, the other people around me looked a million pounds compared to my sweaty cycling gear; I decided to cycle through without talking to anyone, I just needed to make up the miles for the day. Not long after I was passing under the M25 motorway which is a ring road that circles around London, like a cage keeping the wild beast tamed, the roaring sound of the traffic up above echoed down to the cycle path below; I knew from that stage on that I had officially left London.

It was around 8:30pm and I knew at this stage I wasn't going to make it to Reading on time, I came to a forest which seemed very hilly which confussed me as I thought this whole section of the island was flat with only a small amount of hills, the trees shaded me from the sun above as I cycled up hill going through up a dirt track with rocks and sliding mud, my legs were burning as if someone had put them over a roasting fire and the sweat drained out of me like I was a wet tea towel getting squeezed, by the time I made it to the top I was completely out of breath, that hill caught me by suprise, I gazed down the hill before resting my forehead across the handlebars of the bike, I took a deep breath and coughed, my lungs felt as if someone had just jumped on them; the trees swaying in the summer breeze caused many twigs and leaves to russtle, the birds whistled and the squirrels were scurrying, I truly felt at peace once again amonst all this green compare to the hustle and bustle of Central London.

I went through a wooden gate which opened up into an open area of freshly cut grass, the signs that I was once following had been missing for a while now so I was truly lost, I followed the grey trarmac path a little further and then recognised a building, it was Winsor Castle. A long path would bring you right up to the castle gate itself followed by perfectly placed trees, the castle is still used today for a second home of Her Magisty Queen Elizabeth II, but I knew if I went to explore this wonderful place I defiantly wouldn't make it to Reading by tonight, by looking at the castle I finally knew where I was, I was standing in Windsor Great Park in Berkshire, my heart sank because at that point I knew I wasn't going to make it to Reading, it was still a good few hours away but I only had a couple of hours of sunlight left, and I defiantly wasn't going to cycle in South East England without the safety of the sun's warm glow guiding me, I asked a fellow cyclist which was the quickest way to Reading, he recommended me to cycle to a town called Bracknell and follow the road to Reading; "meet me at the top of this hill" the cyclist said with a little excitement in his voice, I cycled up this steep hill, I am still shocked today for the amount of hills in an area which I thought was so flat. I got to the top of the hill but there was no one there, just a tall white statue of the Queen on the top of a horse, eventually I heard the squeek of a cycling wheel fast approaching me from behind, I turned to see who it was and it was the cyclist who I met at the bottom of the hill, he must of took another path up, he pointed down the other side of the hill showing me which path I should take, I shook his hand and said thank you very much.

I was still a little unsure about where I was going, I was watching the trees flash past me in an open field, I was at the point of finding a nice little patch in the bushes to sleep rough, it's not the first time I have done such a thing and surely not the last, "excuse me" shouted the man behind me, it was the same cyclist from the hill, "I am glad I caught up with you, I pointed you in the wrong direction, follow me" he said whilst panting as if he had cycled cross country to send me the message, he guided me through the main roads of the Berkshire countryside, we were passing the quite little villages of Cheapside, Sunninghill and Ascot where I managed to get the chance to see the world famous Ascot Race Course, "there you go, if you follow this main road it would lead you right into Bracknell, then follow the road signs onto Reading" he said as he was pointing his finger in the direction of the road sign saying Bracknell, I replied with a chirpy "thank you" and with that he was off never to be seen again.

So now I was alone once again cycling through a dark English town known as Bracknell there was not much life going on in this town; I quite liked having the company, it helped me push myself a bit more instead of my steady slow cycling pace, whilst that kind gentlman was guiding me through these unfamiliar towns I was trying not to show any weakness as we were cycling up steep hills, he was most probably doing the same as he had a beer gut and a smoking habbit which he would splutter with every cough.

The sun was already setting, Bracknell looked like a very unwelcoming place with large tower blocks, grey buildings, underground tunnels which made you feel like you would be mugged at any moment and shuttered up shops with threatening graffiti, at that point I knew I couldn't get to Reading, the only road signs I could see were for the M4 motorway which cycling bikes could not go on, I must of cycled up and down Bracknell at least ten times trying to find a room for the night in one of the hotels but to no avail, all the hotels were fully booked because of some event that would be taking place the next day, I found myself a nice little bush just on the edges of town, all for a sudden blue flashing lights lit up my comfy bush, "you can't sleep there" shouted across a police officer from the window of his car, "I replied back saying is it possible for me to sleep in one of your cells and leave when you need them" with a smile across my face, the officer now laughing replied "no sorry I don't think I can do that for you" whilst holding his belly as he was in laughing fits, "what if I commit a crime" I shouted back laughing to him.

I new that I had failed in an attempt to sleep for the night, I cycled back under the streets of Bracknell through the very daunting tunnels to the otherside, everytime I cycled through one I would speed up my pace especially when I saw a tunnel full of Romanian men wearing grey Addidas and Nike hoodies huddled together.

The dark dim lights of the train station was a sight I didn't want to see, I felt like a failure but I decided to head back to Swansea on the night train. Crossing the English countryside at night I gazed out of the window to the stars in the sky, occasionally getting a glimps of my reflection in the window, I just thought to myself "you failed this time, but next time you will know where you went wrong and fix it" and with that I closed my eyes to the rocking movement of the train which helped me sleep.

The actual idea for this trip was called "Cycling home from London" where I would cycle from the gates of Buckingham Palace to the gates of my mother's home in Swansea but unfortunently failed on the very first day due to the lack of planning.

Oh well better luck next time.