3 January 2020
Today the scene is set for our first walk of the new decade. If nothing else it will give us a chance to ponder the era's really big questions so far:
Has Donald Trump just started World War III?
Are Charlton now as rich as Manchester City?
Is Greta Thunberg’s name actually "Sharon”?
For Christmas Jayne has gifted me a new book, Nicola Perry’s 33 Walks In London That You Shouldn’t Miss, so we decide we really shouldn’t miss her “Wharves Walk” from Tower Hill to Canary Wharf. The recommended weather conditions are “a clear day, for the best views” but this morning is the polar opposite of that - gloomy, squally, almost too cold to hold Nicola’s book open for long with bare hands. Now it’s too late, Jayne comes up with some things we could have done to mitigate this - photocopy the relevant pages, perhaps even laminate them, wear more clothes, postpone till Spring…
Our walk starts at beautiful St Katharine Dock. At least it would be beautiful if you could magically blot out the back of the Tower Hotel, the concrete monstrosity on the banks of the Thames beside Tower Bridge. Architecturally it reminds me a bit too much of the old Ferrier Estate, the notorious late 60s social housing estate in Kidbrooke, South East London, which was demolished ten years ago to make way for the gentrified Kidbrooke Village development.
Everything else about St Katharine Dock is very tastefully done though and it feels like an oasis of calm so close to the bustling city. There’s even a moment of nostalgia as we pass the Dickens Inn, the venue for my 21st birthday dinner back in the day. I expect I enjoyed a prawn cocktail for my starter, the height of English culinary sophistication in the early 80s. I also realise I haven’t set foot in the building since, which seems a shame but won’t change today as it’s not yet 11 o’clock - and this walk promises plenty of other hostelries en route.
Along Wapping High Street we soon come across the Town of Ramsgate pub, another watering hole with a long and rich history. So far we’re impressed with the density of pubs on this particular walk, but find Nicola Perry’s guide a bit light on historical trivia compared to the Andrew Duncan book we used extensively last year. Maybe this is not surprising as Duncan is an historian, whereas Perry admits in her foreword to being someone - like us - who lives in London and likes walking socially. Nonetheless she directs us down a historically significant snicket that runs beside the pub towards Wapping Old Stairs, from where we can view the old post and chain where condemned pirates were left to drown as the tide rose. Nice.
Jayne looks up the history of the Town of Ramsgate, which is fascinating (though it's still a bit early to justify a longer pit-stop). The pub is named after the fishermen from the eponymous Kent coastal town who chose to land their catch here rather than further upstream near Billingsgate market. Here, or hereabouts, was also where the infamous Judge Jeffrys, known as the “Hanging Judge”, was captured by an angry mob in 1688 and taken to the nearby Tower of London. Here he evaded the poetic justice of being hanged himself, succumbing instead to alcohol-induced kidney disease. The same inn is also reputed to be the location of a last drink between Captain Bligh and Fletcher Christian before their epic voyage on The Bounty a century later. And guess what happened next? There was a mutiny! Christian, the leader of said mutiny, later met a sticky end (apparently exclaiming “oh dear” with typically English understatement as he was slaughtered by some Tahitians he thought were his mates), but Bligh somehow defied the odds to reach home and wreak his revenge on some of the surviving mutineers. These days the Town of Ramsgate looks like a very nice pub indeed as it nestles somewhat incongruously amongst the ultra-modern apartments of Wapping.
Soon after, we turn inland and reach Tobacco Dock, bringing back foggy memories of the Gin Festival we attended there a few years ago. Two replica ships stand by the canal but we fail to locate the promised seven-foot bronze sculpture of a child and a tiger. Jayne resorts to a Google search - apparently the sculpture stands inside the main building, which appears to be closed today. Never mind, the back-story turns out to be entertaining in its own right, relating to a scary incident in the late 19th century when a Bengal tiger escaped from a local pet shop that specialised in exotic animals, “Jamrach’s Animal Emporium”, to wreak its own brand of havoc in the 'hood. With the natural curiosity of the young and foolish, a boy approached the animal and tried to touch it. Unsurprisingly the tiger took exception to this and carried the boy off in its jaws, only for Jamrach’s men to rescue the child by slapping the tiger several times with a crowbar (this normally does the trick, in my experience). Although stunned, the tiger survived unharmed - and so did the child.
But in no way did the story end there, as a number of financial transactions ensued:
Jamrach offered the boy’s father £50 for the distress caused, but was rebuffed;
Instead, the father sued for damages which eventually cost Jamrach £300;
Bizarrely, this was split £240 for the lawyers and £60 for the father (you can just imagine the lawyer’s sales pitch: “I’ve received information that you’ve been involved in a Bengal tiger accident that wasn’t your fault? Is that correct?”)
Jamrach recouped the entire £300 by selling the tiger to a businessman …
... who made a fortune from exhibiting “the tiger that swallowed a child”.
After all this excitement we continue along the canal path and through Wapping Woods (which were maybe more impressive in former times) to Shadwell Basin. On this strange day between New Year and the mass return to work on Monday 6th, Shadwell Basin estate is like a ghost town on sea. There’s no-one around apart from the occasional intrepid jogger. There aren’t even any boats on the marina - maybe they all migrate to the Southern Hemisphere for the winter. All a bit spooky.
Meanwhile our guide Nicola waxes lyrical about the view of the “shimmering towers of Citibank and HSBC standing head, shoulders and knees above their neighbours”. I’m slowly beginning to suspect Nicola is an investment banker (or is married to one, or met one once), as surely nobody else would be quite so enthused by some modern bank offices. Or possibly an architect, giving her the benefit of the doubt. We, on the other hand, are very enthused by the sight of the next historic pub landmark, the Prospect of Whitby, on a corner of Wapping Wall. It seems unlikely that the fishermen of Whitby would have landed their catch here rather than on the coast of Yorkshire, indeed it turns out the pub is named after a boat from Whitby that was moored nearby. Apparently it sounded more inviting than its previous nickname, the “Devil’s Tavern”, which denoted its original attraction to pirates, cut-throats and other hoodlums such as premature Millwall fans.
Claiming to be London’s oldest riverside inn, the Prospect of Whitby dates back to the 16th century and is thought to have been established in 1520 during the reign of Henry VIII. A sign outside charts its progress through the reigns of all subsequent monarchs. Past patrons include the aforementioned “Hanging” Judge Jeffrys (probably accounting for his kidney problems), Charles Dickens (for whom a better question would be “where didn’t he drink?”) and various celebrities including my actor namesake Richard Burton (about whom the exact same question could validly be asked). At 11.45am it’s already open for business and we’re the first customers of the day alongside a hardy group of walkers. Rather embarrassingly, this also happened to us earlier this week at the Hare and Billet in Blackheath. It’s almost as if one of our New Year’s resolutions is to knock on pub doors at opening time, rather than spend more time at the gym. Taking my cue from the walking group, I opt for a pint of Sambrooks Junction (sublime) and Jayne enjoys a refreshing half of Beavertown Neck Oil (an IPA, not the black viscous lubricant). The lunch menu looks very tempting too, but we make do with some chunky pork scratchings for now.
Back out in the fresh air, we soon find ourselves on Narrow Street, where we admire one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants on the banks of the Thames and also pass another famous pub of the area, The Grapes, which is now part-owned by the actor Sir Ian McKellen (and Evening Standard proprietor, Evgeny Lebedev, according to a sign next to the door - unlikely bedfellows on the face of it). The main challenge now is to avoid being mowed down by the constant stream of runners heading from the offices of Canary Wharf. This is your genuine “work hard, play hard” crowd - not only have they already returned to work while most sane people are still on holiday, but are (loudly) discussing future marathon or triathlon opportunities of 2020 while pounding the streets in search of a new "PB". Fist pumps all round. At least this signals we’re just a short walk along the Thames Path from the heart of Canary Wharf - or “This silver city. This Oz”, as Nicola prefers to call it. Turning left at Credit Suisse, we cross the footbridge - which resembles a mini-version of the Millennium Bridge further upstream - into West India Quay, which used to be one of the busiest docks in the world and now acts as the fulcrum of the local restaurant and pub scene.
A surprise - and brand new - offering here is the Munich Cricket Club. This is not, in fact, an actual cricket club but, more usefully in mid-winter, a Bavarian-styled beer and food hall. Not so useful - for me, at least - is that it’s not showing the cricket on TV, which would have been nice. I guess that would be a step too far for an authentic German Bierkeller. We later read that this is the second London location of the “other MCC” - the first opened in Victoria back in 2016, but this has been a well-kept secret - from us at least. From the extensive menu, we choose a lunch of Currywurst mit Pommes (a curious but popular German delicacy, best described as sausage coated in tomato ketchup and sprinkled with curry powder, with chips) and Obatzda mit Brezel, a Bavarian cream cheese and brie dip accompanied by the pretzel-style bread popular at Munich’s Oktoberfest (and also with our kids, at any opportunity). It would be rude not to wash these down with a Paulaner Hefeweizen (wheat beer) for me and a Pils for Jayne. Fantastisch!
Summary: A gentle and enjoyable way to kick-start our walking adventures for 2020. This is not a part of town with which we are familiar but it’s easy to see why it’s popular with so many friends and colleagues, combining as it does attractive modern living spaces in walking or jogging distance of work (in either direction) with a lively pub, restaurant and cultural scene. I’m not the greatest fan of Canary Wharf itself, which always strikes me as a bit soulless - even on a busy day - but there’s no denying it’s a clever and well executed concept and economically very important to London. Wapping and Limehouse, on the other hand, seem to offer up a persuasive fusion of the modern and the historical, which I liked a lot. All in, this walk covers around four miles and was good for around 14,000 steps, a mere bagatelle compared to some of our walks last year but a good way to clear any lingering cobwebs from the Christmas holidays.
Acknowledgements:
Jayne and Richard were following The Wharves Walk (St. Katherine's Dock to Wapping to Canary Wharf), pages 186-197, "33 Walks In London That You Shouldn't Miss" by Nicola Perry, published by Emons Verlag GmbH, revised 4th edition 2019.
For the histories of the various pubs, we also referred to this excellent website: www.londonspubswherehistoryreallyhappened.wordpress.com.
Photos by Jayne Burton (thank you).
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