Running the Ravensbourne River
My guide for the journey was a guy called Mike GTN. I've no idea who he is but stumbled on his blog in which he recounted his walk along the same route.
I was in two minds until the morning of my run whether to begin at the Thames and seek out the source of the river or follow the water from it's origin to the outflow. In the end I decided on the latter as I knew the section from Catford to Deptford well and wanted to be at my sharpest for the unknown stretch. Mainly due to my history of poor navigation.
The length of the river is 11 miles, however I needed to run to the source from Lewisham which is roughly 7 miles. I also added another few miles due to my A-Z Challenge. Keston is not far from Orpington and I needed an O. So the route was as follows: Lewisham to Orpington, Orpington to Keston, Keston to Deptford and Deptford back to Lewisham. This totalled 28 miles by the time I finished and took four and a quarter hours.
Part 1
Part 3
You can see from the weather gauge that it was a beautifully sunny day with a slight wind and warmed up as the morning went on. Here I will just give an account of the second part from Keston to Deptford - the River route.
When I arrived at Keston Common I was very aware that it was at the top of a steep hill. I entered a car park in a small wood and descended a flight of steps to discover Caesar's Well.
The water bubbles up here from an ancient spring and is the origin of the Ravensbourne. The river takes it's name from this spot as legend has it that it was here that a Raven stopped Julius Caesar and his troops on their march from Kent to London and revealed a source of healing water. I plunged my hands into the pool (see photo - top) and washed my face with the cool water. I resisted tasting it.
This is the location of Bromley parkrun and as it was just after 9am the park was full of people running the route despite the absence of the official run due to lockdown. It was comforting to be among the parkrun family again and after briefly toying with running the route I made the sensible decision to carry on and not add another 3 miles to my run.
After crossing the park I was back on the roads and once more the river had ducked out of sight. It only emerges occasionally as it traverses the subterranean depths under Bromley town centre to appear once more in Church House Gardens. It is so sad that we have chosen to cover over these beautiful sources of life in our major towns and cities.
The Ravensbourne was now contained in a deep trench. It was wider but still shallow although it has been very dry this year and I could imagine it speeding along after a heavy storm on higher ground. It was soon encased again as a concrete path revealed the path of the watercourse behind a street of houses.
The next few miles were pretty dull as I made my way along streets of nondescript but pleasant houses. The river was to my right but runs thrugh a private golf course. Eventually I reached Beckenham Place Park where the river is freed from the grey, man made channels and sweeps along once more hugging the muddy banks, tumbling over falling branches and submerged stones and passing beneath bridges. Below: Views from the bridge.
It was such a beautiful day and being late May the trees were in full leaf. Ferns overhung the stream, flies buzzed across the surface and birds sang loudly from the canopy.
I was now on familiar territory and this caused me to lose concentration. Before I knew it I had taken a number of roads towards Catford that actually took me away from the river, although they were a more direct route. This annoyed me more than it reasonably should have and I entered Catford frustrated with myself. This only made matters worse as I missed my turning to rejoin the river at Catford Station and ended up taking the back route through terraced streets rather than enjoying the winding river through the lower part of Ladywell Fields.
Once I arrived at the upper part of the park I hugged the bank into Ladywell. By now my water bottles were empty and I was in need of a drink. As I approached a newsagent my left toe caught a paving slab and I pitched forwards just saving myself in time but feeling a painful stretch in my groin. Thankfully it did no damage but I realised that my legs were getting tired and I wasn't lifting my feet as I had been.
With a bottle of Lucozade and electrolytes in me I girded my loins and began the last section. Still heading north the river disappeared beneath the railway but I was able to reconnect with it at the DLR station at Elverson Road. Once more it was detained by the heavy concrete culvert that guided and contained it towards Deptford.
A little way on the copper waters poured forth onto the earth in Brookmill Park a pleasant narrow strip of green in this industrial space. Once I had passed under Deptford Bridge the river became the tidal Deptford Creek. I followed Creekside but the creek was hidden behind large industrial units and barbed wire fences.
Eventually I was able to cross the creek on a narrow metal pedestrian bridge. It was now a wide expanse of murky, brown water. The history of the place was all around me.
Before 1804 the creek had to be crossed on foot or by boat. It was known as Deep Ford hence Deptford. It marks the boundary between Deptford and leafy Greenwich, two different worlds.
Finally I could see the Thames river and the spot where the two waterways met. The powerful flow of the Thames joined by the outpouring of that trickle of spring water as it broke from the soil at Caesar's Well in Keston.
I stood on the Greenwich Reach Swing Bridge (below) and pondered the journey that I had taken and the passage worn by the water that ebbed beneath me over the centuries, if not millennia. Before I was born and long after I am gone water will continue its cycle from sea to cloud, cloud to land and land back to sea. It will flow along rivers and streams, brooks and tributaries, gather in ponds and lakes, roam and crash in seas and oceans.
I considered how it had helped build this great city, brought people great riches and allowed people from across the world to visit here. I thought of the thousands that used to work the docks and wharfs; the shiphands, engineers, seamen, tavern owners, publicans, dockers, prostitutes, criminals and officials.
My thoughts turned to the way we have polluted and dirtied the waters that serve us. How we have neglected them and hidden them from sight. The way we are so unaware of their presence, their permanence, their importance.
Before I became too melancholic I turned and headed home. As I ran I tried to meditate on more positive aspects of my run along the Ravensbourne; the ponds brimming with fish and other wildlife, the beautiful woodland sated by the river, the animals, birds, insects and fish who find life and sustenance in the water or at its edge, the mindful peace and tranquility of gently flowing water, the sound of it as it passes and the refreshing feel of it I had experienced running down my head and over my hands.
