Slip-sliding a Wey

More map-gazing produced today's little beauty - that and a welcome request from another adventure sports buddy, who wondered whether I fancied joining him for a run. "Nothing too crazy," said Tom, "less than twenty miles would be okay."

Not tooooo crazy then (!?). You can get the gist of the company I keep.

But the opportunity for a bit of company, and some new turf to run on was too good to turn down, so I naturally agreed, and tried to work out a suitable route.

Tom's gearing up for the London Marathon in spring, and as an accomplished rower has fitness in spades, and a naturally lean physique which suits him well for running (fast). What he currently lacks is distance in his legs, so since this would be his first run beyond a half-marathon, I wanted something fairly flat, and preferably soft underfoot to work his muscles, but without the joint impact.

Since he lives in Godalming, just beyond the start of the River Wey Navigation, the solution seemed obvious. A quick train ride from his house to Byfleet & New Haw station, half a mile walk to a lock, and then all the Wey back (do you see what I did there?) along the riverside. Simplicity itself.

Tom at the start - New Haw lock

In reality, the journey to the start was fine, as was the first few miles, when we discovered that within such close proximity to the roar of the M25, the quietest place to live was actually right underneath it, as occupants of the local narrow boats had discovered.

Before long however, we began to see the effects of all the recent snow and rain. Locks fixed shut, with red boards screwed to each gate, stating the river was in flood, and ensuring "strictly" no admittance.

They weren't kidding. Whilst the river remained clear of the path its whole length; in places, it wasn't by much. Folded reeds and beached timber indicated the recent water height, and with every weir running to full capacity with chocolate-milkshake coloured torrents, certain sections of water looked more like the Zambezi than a navigable channel.

The trail itself was groaning under the load. The freeze-thaw cycles that began in December has opened up the pores of topsoil everywhere, and it's soaked up everything since. Picking our way around floodlets of standing water, the ground beneath felt like a wet sponge, our trail shoes jut slid as we slipped the turf off the pastures beneath.

It certainly made for some heavy going in places. To be able to maintain daily runs of reasonable distance, I'm very conscious of not putting too much effort into any single stride. I haven't been jumping over puddles, or sprinting up inclines, so finding myself "wheelspinning" across long sections of riverside path was quite unnerving, and at times, very taxing.

GV almost ready for breakfast

Some parts of the run were excellent though. Tom and I chatted at how riverside properties can seem to be far more individual than other locations, and the view that you get of the buildings, and gardens is typically open from the waterside, rather than the road.
Many of the locks on route still feature occupied keeper's cottages, with no access by road at all. We joked that the job might come with a company boat, but it would need to.

Some harder surfaces through Guildford at mile twelve was welcome respite for me, and I appreciated the instant traction. Tom was still unused to the comparatively slow pace, and looked like he was stiffening up, but checking with each other that we wouldn't prefer to bail out and get the train back, we pressed on for the final chunk.
Watching marathon kayakers training in the river, I was immediately envious of today's exceptional current. Many years ago, I built a raft with the explicit purpose of navigating between Farnham and Guildford, mostly on the "un-navigable" (and therefore private) sections of the North Wey. With my good friend Thew, we enjoyed a sneaky morning of paddling and hauling, negotiating many fallen trees and ruined mills on our way. However, once we reached the official start of the Wey Navigation at Godalming, we faced an exhausting paddle along the final miles of a millpond-flat river. How jealous I was today of the ducks, floating downstream at a rate of knots.

Tom led towards the junction with the Wey Arun Canal (also known as "London's Lost Route to the Sea"), and then beyond it along the obvious towpath. The Ordnance Survey shows no path from this point, but Tom had run this section before, and mile by mile we reeled in the finish, and the finely cooked breakfast that awaited us.

Another good day's running (and eating) with thanks to Tom. More new trails for me, and a new distance accomplished for him. Tomorrow's forecast is dry and bright, so I'm looking forward to it almost as much as a good sleep!


Summary:
Today: 17.5 miles, 2:30 hrs, 2451 cals
January: 118.2 miles, 16.39 hrs, 16291 cals