On Hampstead Heath: The West Heath, Pt. 2

We’ve discussed why the West Heath is (or, more accurately, was) a “heath.”  Today we’ll look at some of the West Heath’s history and major landmarks.

Location, Location

As the map shows, the West Heath is a rough triangle proceeding west from Whitestone Pond, bounded by West Heath Road to the south and North End Way to the north.  Golders Hill Park is adjacent along the western boundary. To the southeast of a jog in West Heath Road is the former site of Branch Hill Pond—now a mere grass-filled depression—famously painted by Constable. The southwestern edge of the West Heath is about 300 yards from our front door; we consider the West Heath to be “our” section of the Heath.

In general, the West Heath slopes gently upward from southwest to northeast, but the terrain is relatively flat in comparison to much of the rest of the heath.  (We will discuss some reasons for that at a later date.)  This relatively flat terrain was one reason why the West Heath was a popular venue for horse racing in the early 18^th Century.

 

Sandy Road



Features Galore!

Sandy Road is a wide, unpaved track that runs along the western edge of the West Heath, from Platt’s Lane to North End Way—our route to the Old Bull & Bush, in fact. One might easily assume that Sandy Road was conceived and built as a footpath, as might be found in any large park. One would be mistaken. Sandy Road was a true road—before the Heath became a public trust in 1872 and Platt’s Farm was developed into The Crofts in the 1890s, Sandy Road was the continuation of Platt’s Lane, linking Child’s Hill to North End and Spaniard’s Road. For centuries, this was probably the main route for carrying produce from the surrounding farmland (including Wyldes Farm) to market in London, via the Roman-laid Watling Street (now Kilburn High Road and Edgware Road).

 

Leg o' Mutton Pond, December 2010



About 100 yards along Sandy Road from Platt’s Lane, one finds Leg o’Mutton Pond. Like the other large ponds on the Heath, Leg o’ Mutton is man made, dug in 1816 as part of a relief program for unemployed laborers during the depression that followed the Napoleonic Wars. (Sandy Road also was raised and improved as part of the same relief effort.) The pond is naturally maintained, however, filled by two spring-fed streams that flow across the West Heath and ultimately into the Brent River, and thence to the Thames.  During the Nineteenth Century, the pond was popular for summer bathing and angling (though one wonders from whence came the fish).



The Pergola



Among the more interesting features on the West Heath are the Pergola and Hill Garden. These features are comprised of a manicured, formal garden with terraces arranged around a long, rectangular lily pond, and an elaborate 800 foot-long,  Italian Renaissance-style pergola, complete with climbing vines. When happened upon from the south or east, these features rise quite unexpectedly from the wilds of the Heath, and are a delightful surprise. Why are they here, and why are they part of the Heath?



Public Right-of-Way, The Pergola



As one might expect, the answers to these questions make an interesting tale. In 1905, the wealthy soap magnate William Lever, Lord Leverhulme, purchased an estate on North End Way called The Hill, which commanded magnificent views to the north, over the (then, still unwooded) West Heath. Lord Leverhulme loved to throw magnificent garden parties. To that end, he purchased a neighboring property called Heath Lodge, with the intent of demolishing the house and replacing it with a garden. Unfortunately for Lord Leverhulme, there was a public right-of-way—a simple footpath, really—between The Hill and Heath Lodge. Despite Lord Leverhulme’s best efforts, he could not extinguish the right of way. This meant that anyone strolling on the Heath could stop and gawk at the Lord’s garden parties.



The Hill Garden Pond



Lord Leverhulme turned to renowned landscape architect Thomas Mawson to resolve the problem. Mawson designed the Hill Garden, and the Pergola to provide private access over the right-of-way to the Hill Garden. The design and construction of the Pergola took 20 years, including a lengthy interruption during the Great War.

The Pergola, Detail

Almost immediately after the Pergola was completed in 1925, Lord Leverhulme died. The Hill was acquired by shipping magnate Baron Inverforth and renamed Inverforth House; Baron Inverforth lived there until his own death in 1955. He willed the property to Manor House Hospital, and it was used as a convalescent home. The Pergola and Hill Gardens were purchased and added to the Heath in 1960, although by then they were in poor condition. A thorough renovation was carried out in the early 1990s, and the areas were reopened to the public in 1995.  Inverforth House was subsequently sold and subdivided into flats, data from 2007 indicates that each was then valued at around £4 million.

I suppose the Gibbet Elms are no long a feature as they no longer exist, but they’re another good West Heath story. In March, 1674, a highwayman named Francis Jackson and his gang robbed two coaches in Hounslow (not far from where Heathrow Airport is now). The gang was spotted as they neared Acton (then a tiny farming village to the west of London), and they suddenly found themselves pursued by a posse of 40-to-50 men. A running battle ensued across much of Middlesex County. The gang reached Hampstead Heath­ hours later, exhausted and their powder and shot used up, where they were ambushed by 200 men. The gang held them off for nearly an hour before they were taken. During the resistance, Jackson killed one of the local Hampstead men. Jackson was hanged, and his corpse returned to the Heath and gibbeted from an elm tree, only a few feet from where the Hill Garden sits now. The corpse hung there for 18 years. The last of the Gibbet Elms blew down in 1907.

References:

A. Farmer, Hampstead Heath (1984)

C. Wade, Hampstead Past (1989)

D. McDowall & D. Wolton, The Walker’s Guide: Hampstead Heath (2006 ed.)

D. Wolton & D. McDowall, Hampstead Heath (2007)

http://www.cityoflondon.gov.uk/NR/rdonlyres/B5F7A42F-FA5A-4087-A3A4-C3FFE907EB2D/0/OS_HH_pergola.pdf

On Hampstead Heath: The West Heath, Pt. 1

We have so far discussed Golders Hill Park and the Hampstead Heath Extension, both of which were relatively late additions to the Heath, added in 1898 and 1907, respectively.  In contrast, the West Heath has been a part of the Heath for all of recorded history.

Prelude: What is a ‘Heath,’ Anyway?

“Heath” is one of those peculiarly English words (like “moor” and “dale”) that most Americans have heard but never use.  I always assumed that “heath” was a posh synonym for “park.” It is not, of course; indeed, the Heath was called such for centuries before it was a public open space.



Rather, a “heath” is a type of terrain: specifically, “a large open area, usually with sandy soil and scrubby vegetation, esp heather.“[1] This is precisely what the Heath was, and why it persisted as open land when all of the surrounding land was used for agriculture. The reason for this is geological.  The top layer of soil on the Heath is a type of sand called Bagshot, deposited by a river flowing from the west of England approximately 40 million years ago. This sandy topsoil is acidic and infertile, and therefore unsuitable for agriculture.  For this reason the Heath was not farmed, but instead was used as the village “common” of the Manor of Hampstead where, under English manorial tradition, the commoners had the right to graze animals on the scrubby flora, to cut turf for fuel and building materials, and to dig sand.



Bog, West Heath



Beneath the sand is a transitional layer called the Claygate Beds, which in turn covers a deeper layer of stiff, bluish London clay. In the lower portions of the Heath, where less sand was deposited and more has eroded away,  these deeper layers have been exposed, and trees and grasses more typical of the region have sprung up.





This geology also accounts for another dominant feature of the Heath: its perpetual damp.  Rainwater—of which the Heath receives copious amounts—drains easily down through the sandy layers. When the water hits the denser layers below, it moves horizontally, eventually seeping out of the ground, creating boggy conditions or collecting into streams.  The Heath is thus the source of five rivers that empty into the Thames, although all are now channeled underground: the Fleet, the Holborn, the Tyburn, the Kilburn (Westbourne), and the Brent.

West Heath

The West Heath: Back to Nature

I’ve just told you that the West Heath is part of the original Heath, and that heathland is characterized by low scrubby vegetation such as heather. Why, then, do all of our photos of the West Heath look like they were taken in woodland? The answer lies in prehistory.

As explained by Wolton & McDowall,[2] heathland is rarely naturally occurring. Rather, it typically occurs when areas of well-draining, acidic sandy soil—such as that on the Heath—are cleared of trees and shrubbery and used to graze livestock.  Over time, the grazing alters the flora into the scrubby heather and gorse typical of heathland. The remains of a Mesolithic-period encampment on the West Heath, near Leg o’ Mutton Pond, suggest that the West Heath was cleared of its original vegetation as early as 7,000 years ago, and the land probably was used for  grazing thereafter until well into the Nineteenth Century. Indeed, John Constable’s 1821-1822 painting of the West Heath, West End Fields, Hampstead, noon, depicts a flock of sheep grazing on typically open heathland.

The grazing of livestock on the West Heath stopped, of course, when the Heath (then comprised of 220 acres of the West Heath, the Sandy Heath, and the East Heath) passed into the public trust in January 1872. In the ensuing 140 years, the West Heath has been recolonized by trees and shrubbery; birch trees, in particular, are known to thrive on open, acidic ground, and many large, mature birch trees now thrive in the West Heath.[3]

In Part 2, we look at the landmarks of the West Heath.

19th C. Jazz, West Heath

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[1] heath. Dictionary.com Unabridged. Random House, Inc. <http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/heath> (accessed: March 28, 2011).

[2] D. Wolton & D. McDowall, Hampstead Heath (2007), pp. 38-45.

[3] Ibid. at p. 38.http://rosecroftavenue.blogspot.com/2011/03/on-hampstead-heath-west-heath-pt-2.html

North London Pub of the Year Ballot: My Vote

As I mentioned in my birthday post (mission accomplished!), voting is now open in the CAMRA North London branch for North London Pub of the Year. I visited all six of the nominees (plus a few bonus pubs) in a one-day whirlwind pub crawl, and I have decided how I am going to vote.

I fully realize that I can't possibly assess the true character of a pub in a single visit, particularly when I visited some in that sleepy period shortly after opening and others in the full swing of a busy Saturday night. I also did not eat in any of these pubs, which might disadvantage those that emphasize food. And, of course, what I want from my pub may not be the same thing you want from your pub. But life ain't fair, so save your complaints and cast your own vote!

So here they are, ranked in order. I will say that the top two were very difficult to separate, with the final ranking decided on location and my personal preferences in comfort and decor:

1. The Southampton Arms

What an absolute gem. The Southampton Arms, tucked away in a Highgate Road storefront in Kentish Town, combines an outstanding selection of English craft ales and ciders -- twelve handpumps for beer and six for cider -- with the rustic, lived-in comfort of the best English pubs. The server knew the characteristics of the beers he was pouring and was able to give an intelligent, nuanced recommendation. If this place were any closer to home, I would happily kick back in the church pew beside the open fire every day, from the minute they opened until they chucked me out at closing time. My selection for North London Pub of the Year.

The Southampton Arms gets my vote for North London Pub of the Year!

2. The Jolly Butchers

The Jolly Butchers would be perfectly at home if someone plucked it from the busy streets of Stoke Newington and plopped it back down in Santa Monica, somewhere between The Library Alehouse and Father's Office. This is more beer bar than pub -- which is not a bad thing -- with a young and vibrant crowd filling the clean, modern interior with a definite buzz. The selection of English craft brews is good, and The Jolly Butchers boasts a better selection of international beers than The Southampton Arms. The delicious Belgian Mort Subite Kriek and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, among others, were on draught, and a broad range of international beers (including Brooklyn Brewery and Flying Dog) is available in bottles. (Might there be a Stone or Russian River or Lagunitas beer pouring here in the near future? We California expats can only hope.) The servers knew their beers and seemed genuinely excited about them. The Jolly Butchers was edged out of my top spot only by The Southampton Arms's inviting, relaxed atmosphere and its Kentish Town location, but on a different day I might well have made a different decision.

The Jolly Butchers, a solid second.

3. North Nineteen

Wrapped inside a bland exterior in a charmless Upper Holloway neighborhood is North Nineteen, the sort of cosy family pub and restaurant that deserves to be the center of community life. The interior is newly refurbished and it makes no effort to simulate period charm -- it is unpretentious, clean and modern. The front bar has a large open fireplace and a flat screen TV for the friendly local Arsenal supporters, and a small dining room off to the side. The back bar (go through the gents) has darts and another fireplace.  Nine handpumps, three in front and six in back, and a good selection of whiskies as well. The service was notably amiable and efficient. Were I not on a mission of my own, I would have been content to sit in the bar and watch football all afternoon.

The back bar at North Nineteen, empty on a Saturday afternoon, no doubt awaiting the punters' return from the Arsenal match at the Emirates.

4. The Charles Lamb

The Charles Lamb is exceptional in two ways: it is exceptionally charming, and it is exceptionally small. The place is all white and pale green with simple, clean lines, and it has a slightly feminine air about it. This is a pleasant change from the overtly masculine, dark-and-dingy decor of many neighborhood pubs (an aesthetic epitomized by the fading glory of the Lamb's endangered neighbor, The Wenlock Arms). But its diminutive size is an inconvenience.  We were able to find seats after only a short wait at the bar on our late Saturday evening visit, but I have been to the Lamb on a Saturday afternoon and had difficulty getting through door for the crowd. The Lamb has only three handpumps (I doubt there is space for any more).

Charming, but too small.

5. The Duke of Wellington

There seems to be some sort of magical effect in operation at The Duke of Wellington: Whenever a seat is opened up, whether at a table or at the bar, it is instantly filled, and yet one never can tell from whence the people come -- the place never seems to be crowded, and no one ever seems to be waiting for a chair. It's almost as if the punters are a liquid, flowing in at the same rate as they flow out, always finding their own level.

That said, I found The Duke of Wellington to be pleasant but entirely unexceptional. The interior decor is minimalist to the point of nonexistence; the exterior is unremarkable, and there is nothing to recommend a visit to its Dalston location.

The Duke of Wellington: Not a serious contender.

6. Three Compasses

I took an instand dislike to Three Compasses, and I'm not sure why. It might have been the toothless drunk at the bar who decided for unknown reasons that I was the perfect audience for his harangue about the poor service he was receiving, or perhaps it was the surly server who promptly demonstrated that his complaints were justified. The front bar was fine but unexceptional; I did not like the cavern-like back bar, which seemed a bit of a Chucky Cheese-style game room for obnoxious groups of beer drinking teens and 20-somethings. The selection of cask ales was decent, particularly if you are a fan of Redemption Brewing, and the Redemption Pale Ale I had was fine. But I did not linger over it, and I will not return for another.

Last place: Three Compasses

Ridiculously Ambitious Birthday Plans

This year my ridiculously ambitious birthday plans involve visiting all 6 pubs nominated for CAMRA North London Pub of the Year between noon (when most of them open) and 6:30 (family-suitable dinner reservations).  This wouldn't be much of a task if all of these pubs were in close proximity -- say, all within Hampstead or all within Islington -- but they're not. They are spread across all of North London, from Kentish Town to Hornsey to Stoke Newington. None are in Hampstead.

To elevate the task to the ridiculous, I've added a couple of non-candidate pubs to the list as options. These are pubs of high repute that are close to the six candidate pubs, but that are located in areas that otherwise make them inconvenient for me to visit. I have also chosen a pub to end the day with dinner that is not a candidate and is not particularly reputed as a pub-qua-pub, but which is highly rated by the The Good Food Guide 2011.

So without further ado, here's where I plan to spend my 47th birthday, in this order, and here's a link to a Google map showing them all:

The Southampton Arms

Kentish Town

Time Out says, “The idea behind this terrific place is audaciously simple: take a grim old boozer and strip it back to bare floors, dark paint, a few old photos and a working fireplace. . . . Drinking here is a bit like dropping in on an old friend who lives in a slightly shabby but utterly comfortable country cottage. It's a brilliant idea perfectly executed.” The pub has 18 handpumps, pouring exclusively ale and cider from small, independent U.K. breweries.

Transport:  London Overground, Finchley Road & Frognal to Gospel Oak. Walk to 139 Highgate Rd. (5 minutes/0.3 miles).

Optional Non-Candidate Stop: The Pineapple

A former local CAMRA Pub of the Year and a Real Heritage Pub. Saved by local activists in 2002 from conversion to offices and flats.

Transport: Walk from The Southampton Arms to 51 Leverton St. (11 minutes/0.5 miles).

North Nineteen

Upper Holloway

A “steak and ale” house, North Nineteen has two separate bars, with three real ales in the front bar and six in the back bar. Also known for its selection of whiskies.  Time Out calls it a “gem of a makeover” in an otherwise drab neighborhood.

Transport: Tube to Archway (Northern Line, High Barnet Branch). Walk to 194-196 Sussex Way (15 minutes/0.8 miles).

Three Compasses

Hornsey

Two-time winner of CAMRA National Community Pub of the Year and Local Branch Pub of the Season. The current building dates from 1896 and was extensively refurbished in 2004.

Transport: Walk NE on Sussex Way from North Nineteen to Bavaria Rd (Stop M) (1 min/300 ft). Take Bus 91 to Hornsey Rise. From Stop K, take Bus 41 towards Tottenham Hale to Tottenham Lane/Turnpike Lane. Walk 2 blocks west to 62 High Street.

Optional Non-Candidate Stop: The Salisbury

Harringay

One of the few Grade II* listed pubs in London and a Top 10 Heritage Pub. Built in 1899 in lavish high Victorian style, the pub’s original features—both interior and exterior—have been preserved, and the building was meticulously restored in 2003.

Jolly Butchers

Stoke Newington

Jolly Butchers was reinvented and reopened last April to great acclaim from both the beer community and the wider drinking public—although the fact that its new incarnation was openly modeled on The Southampton Arms did put some noses out of joint. Jolly Butchers has ten handpumps, typically pouring seven cask ales and three ciders, all from independent craft breweries.

Transport:

·         From Three Compasses: Walk east to Turnpike Lane Station. From stop Y, take Bus 67 towards Aldgate Bus Station; get off at Stoke Newington Station. Walk south to 204 Stoke Newington High St. (5 min/0.2 miles).

·         From The Salisbury: Walk east on St. Ann’s Rd. to St. Ann’s Hospital bus stop (10 min./0.5 miles); take Bus 67 as above.

The Duke of Wellington

Dalston

The Duke of Wellington was established in 1842, and its most recent refurbishment in 2009 was intended to bring it into the 21^st century while respecting its tradition. CAMRA North London’s Pub of the Season for Spring 2010.

Transport: From Stoke Newington Station, Stop C, take Bus 149 or 67 to Dalston Junction Station. From station, walk west to 119 Balls Pond Rd. (5 min/0.2 miles).

Optional Non-Candidate Stop: The Wenlock Arms

Islington

Consistently rated one of the best pubs in London by Beer Advocate, is a 4-time CAMRA North London Pub of the Year, and was named a Top Ten pub by Fancyapint in February 2011. The pub was slated for demolition last October; it was saved, but as of February it remained up for sale and its future is uncertain.

Transport: From Duke of Wellington, walk west on Balls Pond Rd to Southgate Rd. Bus Stop. Take Bus 56 (St. Barts) to Angel Station; walk to 26 Wenlock Rd (15 min/0.6 miles).

The Charles Lamb

Islington

The only pub on this list I have already been to, this is an exceptionally charming little pub, unfortunately located across from atrocious blocks of modern flats. The building dates from 1839, but it has only recently been converted to use as a public house and few original features remain. The Charles Lamb Lager is brewed locally by Meantime.

Transport: See Wenlock Arms above.

For Dinner (Non-Candidate): The Albion

Islington

Joint highest rating of London gastropubs from the 2011 Good Food Guide and rated one of the U.K.’s best pubs by The Guardian. Particularly well known for its Sunday lunch menu (the main meal of the week in England).

Transport: Return to Angel Station. Cross Upper St. and head NW on Liverpool Rd to Richmond; W on Richmond; N on Thornhill to 10 Thornhill Rd. (13 min/0.6 miles from Angel).