We set off after lunch and wandered without incident down to the river. As we cycled down Spring Hill, I saw a lady on a bike coming the other way give me a slightly sheepish glance as she got off it and started pushing it up the hill. I smiled and said, "I'll be doing that on the way back."
Matt's boat is currently in dry dock and his front door is, basically, a ladder, so we (literally) climbed aboard and settled down with Leo the cat for a nice cup of Earl Grey. The only thing was that Leo decided there were too many legs in his boat and so fled, taking a flying leap off the boat and only making a small crater on landing (our moggy, Ozzy, would have made it look like a meteor had landed). James then realised that he'd left his bike directly under the kitchen sink outlet, so with the boat being uncharacteristically on land, the outlet was dribbling ominously onto his saddle.
Once we'd set off from Matt's, we carried on up the Lea. We hadn't gone very far before the path was blocked by a small crowd, gathered by a block of flats. We soon saw what the fuss was about - it was this heron (dubbed "Harry the Heron" by James - that's James in the foreground) in the first picture. Apparently, an older gentleman who lives in the flats has been feeding him tuna because he was injured. Harry's obviously wise to it, as he was watching and waiting from the other side of the river on our way back. I only had my phone to get pictures with, but I managed to get this second shot of him just before he took off.
The next big surprise we had was that the absolutely terrible section of towpath that was full of potholes and tree roots and other nasties had been resurfaced, said nasties had been removed and new benches installed slightly off the path. This wondrous thing still had "towpath closed" signs on it, but there was no actual barrier and everyone else seemed to think it was fair game, so we gave it a go - what a difference a year makes! The most horrible, bone-jarring section of the entire towpath is now the most lovely, smooth and wonderful.
We cycled past Ikea and the bus depot and out into the faux-countryside, punctuated by pylons and sheep. As we went along, we came across a chap and his two sons (all in full Orthodox Jewish regalia), who were extremely grateful for a spot of technical assistance, although I'm not sure we helped much. They seemed to have an entire week's shopping with them. This is important - they crop up again later.
As we got close to Lea Valley Swan and Pike Pool (that sounds like an awesome death match - suffice it to say we didn't see any swans there), we heard what sounded like an enormous lawnmower. Just by the Swan and Pike Pool there is a car park, presumably so that people can get ringside seats for the aforementioned death match, and on closer inspection it transpired that it was filled with teenage boys doing wheelies on mopeds. James wisely managed to laugh at them without drawing attention to himself - as I pointed out later, he was an adult male in too much Lycra, so over all it was about six of one and half a dozen of the other.
Not too long after that, we crossed the border into Not London (i.e. went under the M25). Once we had reached the exit from the river for Waltham Abbey we decided that rather than go into the town, we would stop at the apparently new "Narrow Boat Cafe" we had just passed for some much needed refreshment. The Narrow Boat Cafe is not on a narrow boat, but the people who run it are lovely, the jacket potato and cake we had were amazing and the prices were reasonable - definitely a place worth knowing about if you're in the area.
We started on our merry way back, refuelled but a little tired nonetheless. As we got back towards the Swan and Pike Pool (who knew what a pivotal place this would be?) we saw our old friends the Jewish family coming the other way with, if it were possible, even more shopping than they had had the last time we saw them. We met them just next to a lock on a section of towpath which is raised from the road on the other side of it, so it's like a bit of a ridge, and it isn't very wide. The father and the elder son came straight past us, but the younger lad, probably about 12, either hadn't seen me or wasn't able to control his bike that well. I was on the lock side of the path and he was heading straight for me. I had nowhere to go. I'm not sure which of the three elements of his terror (the fear of hurting himself, the fear of hurting me and the fear of what his father might say if he hit me) was the strongest, but whichever it was, it was enough to stop him from catapulting me into the lock. My instinctive and entirely inappropriate reaction - to scream "Jesus Christ!" extremely loudly.
As we got back to the bus depot, we could hear some loud barking. It was just after a section of towpath I point blank refuse to cycle along due to lack of any barrier between it and the river and the fact that it's only about six inches wide (I may be exaggerating slightly). James doesn't mind it, so he had dismounted while waiting for me at the other end. When I got there, it became apparent that the barking was coming from two very big dogs, who seemed to be trying to guard something. Seeing as how they were loose on the towpath, it wasn't abundantly clear what they wanted to guard, nor was it evident that they actually knew each other, but guarding was what they were doing, and barking at us (with a little growling) was how they were set on doing it. Since neither of us was on a bike at the time, it was mildly unnerving, but we managed to get back on our bikes and set off. Two minutes later, we heard them barking at the next set of hapless cyclists who passed their way.
When we reached the point where we leave the river, I saw the lady who had walked up Spring Hill as we were coming down it, probably on her way back from her outing. I had been contemplating trying to cycle up that hill, but I sealed my fate when she smiled at me and I said, "I'm about to walk up it now." To be fair, I did cycle a little way up, but that proved to be my undoing, as once I'd got into bottom gear, I then couldn't get out of it again - my old foe, gear trouble, had foiled me again and we had to stop to take a look at it. I had to stay on the largest front ring (once we'd got the chain onto it) for the rest of the journey. As we passed through Stamford Hill on the way home, we came across a flock of people-movers. None of them had any idea where they were going or how to use their indicators, but we managed to get through somehow.
This evening, we went for a post-ride Turkish meal. It was delicious as ever (Flame on Green Lanes), but for the first time in the five or six years since the smoking ban was introduced, I actually saw someone light up a cigarette in a restaurant. The "lady" in question had the offending object taken off her by the waiter and all was well, apart from my lungs - they'd enjoyed the fresh air today, but were rudely reacquainted with the city all too soon.
Quel beau dimanche!
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