Great Canal Journeys (2014) s03e01 Episode Script
London's Lost Route to the Sea
1 Iâm Prunella Scales.
And Iâm Timothy West.
Beautiful.
We've been husband and wife for over five decades.
Amazing.
Cheers.
We've been wedded to stage and screen for even longer.
Great hairdo! Ha-ha.
But we share another passion - canals.
Cast off, please.
Aye-aye, sir.
Canals wind through our lives, carrying our treasured memories Of families growing up, Of moments of wonder And hidden beauty.
Is this the most remote canal we've ever been on? It probably is, yes.
Of love And laughter.
Hey! Sorry about that.
Things are a bit harder for me these days.
Iâm not strong enough.
But we get by.
We're at the Sun Inn! Hooray! Pru has a slight condition.
It does mean she has difficulty remembering things.
Oh, my darling.
I'm so sorry.
I didnât cast you off! One has to recognise that Pru's domestic life is getting a little narrower by the day.
Well, it can be a nuisance, but it doesn't stop me remembering how to open a lock gate, or make the skipper a cup of tea.
OK.
Cast off.
OK.
Well be exploring new countries.
It's amazing, isnât it? And following new routes.
I'm lost now.
But one thing stays the same We're always together.
Let's stay right here.
So peaceful.
It's no accident that our capital city was founded on the banks of the Thames.
And London is connected to the rest of the country via a network of waterways.
Over 40 years of boating, Pru and I have explored nearly all of them.
But there is an almost forgotten route that once linked the city with the south coast of England.
This week, we go in search of London's lost route to the sea.
Right through suburban London into a hidden waterway lost in time.
We're going to meet absolutely no-one.
Our voyage back through history will also lead us into our own past.
Wow! This is the room I was born in.
A route last fully open nearly 150 years ago has its occasional hazards.
Are we stuck? Yes, we are stuck.
And unexpected challenges.
We just have to turn round and go home again? But, somehow, we're determined to make it from London to the sea.
Our journey begins in south-west London at the tidal limit of the Thames.
200 years ago, barges passed through the locks here at Teddington bound for the south coast.
This spot also plays a part in Pru's own history.
So, here we are.
Teddington Lock.
Teddington Lock.
Teddington Studios there.
Remember? Oh, yes! You did After Henry.
It was a 1980s sitcom.
And I played Sarah, a middle-aged widow, living with both her mother and daughter.
Very happy memories.
Id forgotten it was Teddington.
Yeah.
The waterways that we're following on this voyage will bring back memories for both of us.
Right.
Lets set sail into the past.
And to transport us there, a 60-foot canal boat.
Well, Here's the galley.
Wood-burning stove.
Oh, yes.
Useful in June.
Yes.
This kind of June, anyway.
Lets get off then, weâve got a long way to go.
Aye, sir.
Its cold and wet, but this typical English summer weather fails to dampen our spirit of adventure.
OK.
Cast off.
While most of Britainâs inland waterways are covered by numerous guidebooks, for much of this voyage we have only the writings of a Victorian schoolteacher to follow.
It was 1867 when JB Dashwood and his new wife Maria set out on this same journey in a small sailing dinghy.
Like us, they were attempting to reach the English Channel via a series of rivers and canals.
Our voyage begins on the River Thames.
At Weybridge, well turn south onto the Wey Navigation Canal before transferring onto the Wey and Arun.
Stretches of this almost unused waterway are unnavigable but, by using four separate boats, we should finally reach the English Channel.
Over the centuries, the Thames has carried everything from wheat and coal to courtiers and kings.
Some of the houses round here are rather grand.
Yes.
Wah! Look at them.
Yes, the ideas to look grand because youâre arriving by water.
That ones quite grand, isnât it? Ha! Hampton Court Palace.
Yes.
That'll do.
Yeah.
Yeah.
It might be most famous as the Tudor palace of King Henry VIII, but, from the river, it is William and Marys baroque extension that steals the show.
Sort of an English Versailles, really.
A mile upriver from Hampton Court lies a more modest structure, but one that holds a special place in our hearts.
It might look like a folly but it is, in fact, a shrine honouring the greatest playwright of them all.
We're just coming up to Garricks Temple.
Built by David Garrick, the great actor, in the 18th century as a country retreat.
And as a kind of temple to Shakespeare.
And, incidentally, to himself.
Weâve come to pay homage to the great Bard in the hope that hell bring us luck on our journey to the sea.
And also to take tea with the temples chairman of trustees, our old pal, actor Clive Francis.
Oh, goodness gracious me! Oh, dear Pru.
Iâm so thrilled to welcome you here.
Its wonderful to see you.
Lovely place youâve got here.
It is a nice little place, yes.
Like David Garrick, we both owe so much to William Shakespeare.
I feel I should genuflect.
Oh, he would have appreciated that, believe you me.
Yes.
And this is the great Roubiliac statue of Shakespeare which Garrick, of course, posed for, as you can imagine.
Clive continues a temple tradition and offers us tea, just as the great actor Garrick would have done.
He was the, sort of, Laurence Olivier of his day.
But in terms of his stardom he was like the Beckham of his day.
Huge, huge star.
Before him, all the performers used to declaim very loudly on the stage.
Come down to the front and shout.
They had to because the audience were talking most of the time.
They weren't listening to the play.
It was Garrick that really quietened them down.
Garrick insisted that guests to his temple pay for their visit with an ode in praise of Shakespeare.
"O, Garrick," it had better start.
"Monarch of the stage.
" Tim, I hope youâre feeling inspired.
We need the Bard to bless our journey.
Very good.
Sickeningly good at this! Iâm terribly impressed that this is coming off the top of your head.
Enjoy thespian camaraderie.
Youâre sickeningly good at it.
Shall I read it to you? Yes, please.
O, Garrick, monarch of the stage Our thanks that in this modern age we're able to enjoy with tea And thespian camaraderie The chance to view with warm regard This temple to the immortal Bard Here in this peaceful Thamesside haven Who cares for Stratford-upon-Avon? Absolutely perfect! Stay with us.
Well, hell bring you all the luck you want.
Well, listen, its been a great treat having you.
It really has.
Really good.
Thank you so much.
God bless, Pru, my darling.
Weâve got a little bit of a way to go yet.
A couple of locks but they do them for us.
Oh, thatâs lovely.
All the locks on this stretch of the Thames are manned.
It feels like quite a luxury.
All I have to do is throw them a line.
Oh, sorry.
No.
I think Iâm better right-handed.
Well done.
Oh, thank God.
Sorry.
Donât worry.
Youâre doing all right.
We both are.
Being out on the canal together is what we love and its something that we share.
I donât see any reason to stop.
At the moment.
Obviously, things are going to get more difficult but lets not cross the bridges before we come to them.
Lets just enjoy it while we can.
And we can.
Hello.
Yes, hello.
Red or white? Red, please.
If thatâs all right for you.
Yes, fine.
OK.
Is it all right, drinking at the tiller? It has been known.
Cheers.
Cheers.
As we reach our moorings for the night, we are greeted by the evening sun.
Lovely spot, isnât it? Isnât it beautiful? The Thames carries on west but weâve got our sights set on the English Channel.
So, tomorrow, well turn south onto the Wey Navigation.
Thatâs darkest Surrey, isnât it? Quite near where I was born.
Its quite civilised now.
Ha! I didnât know about canals in those days.
Well, there you are, you see, thatâs the thing.
One doesnât know about canals.
Theyâre often on your doorstep and you donât look.
Youâre looking the other way.
All right? Amazing.
Cheers.
Supper? Yeah.
I think so.
Yeah.
Its the second day of our journey along Londonâs lost route to the sea and weâve reached Weybridge.
Today, well say goodbye to the River Thames and into the Wey Navigation at the start of our long voyage south.
We're doing this journey all this way down to, eventually, Arundel and to the sea.
These days it is certainly not a well-traveled route.
Our map is Victorian and so, indeed, is our guidebook, which is the account of a voyage in 1867 along the same route but in a small dinghy.
At 12 oâclock on the morning of July the 8th, 1867, the little Una boat Caprice weighed anchor on her voyage from Weybridge to the Solent.
The day was lovely and all seemed to smile success on this adventurous expedition.
Our crew consisted of your humble servant and his better half.
The oars were out and we paddled her up to the first lock on the Wey.
Following the Dashwoods into the Wey Navigation, we pass an old flour mill before gliding under the M25 and into the Surrey countryside .
.
drifting by the ruins of Newark Priory before we moor at Triggs Lock for the night.
The great age of canal building was during the Industrial Revolution, but the Wey Navigation predates that by over a century.
Built just after the Civil War, some say it is the oldest canal in the country.
A more primitive waterway than its successors, its really simply an adapted river.
This, the first lock on the way, is manned by National Trust volunteers.
There is a weather warning out for tonight.
Very strong winds.
Very strong winds? Really heavy rain.
Just overnight, do you think? Yeah.
Overnights going to be the worst, yeah.
OK.
Good.
Thank you.
Right, well weâve been warned.
No sign of the wind yet.
It all seems rather tranquil.
Amazing luxury houses.
Wow.
This one would really be happier in Beverly Hills.
Weâve now reached a junction where the Wey Navigation canal takes a different course from the river.
Here I have to negotiate this 60-foot beast through a 90 degree turn with just a few feet to spare.
Oh.
As we approach Coxes Lock, we spot a reminder of the Weys industrial past.
Thereâs a dark Satanic mill.
What was it for? I think it was a flour mill.
What will happen to it now? What will it be, flats? I should think so, yeah.
Nice flats.
Yes.
Its easy to forget that this waterway was once a vital supply route for London.
When the city was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, it was timber brought up from Surrey on the Wey Navigation that rebuilt the capital.
Although by 1880, the route through to the coast was closed, this section carried commercial traffic for another 100 years.
And its locks were certainly built for working boatman, not for actresses.
I cant move this bugger.
Iâm sorry, I cant move it.
Tim, Iâm not strong enough.
OK, Ill come around.
Thatâs a Yep.
Oh, brilliant.
Oh, youâve got a longer Iâve got a longer what? Look, your key is Got a longer Ah, that it.
Its not just your strength.
Look.
Yes.
Complaining about the length of my implement, again.
No, no, never let it be said.
These locks have been too stiff and heavy for Pru to open so weâve had to swap roles and she has taken the helm.
Pull her right round.
No, no, no, to your left.
Not too fast.
Not too fast.
Reverse.
Reverse.
Its not the boat Iâm used to and I cant get the gears to work.
Stop.
No.
Pru! Stop.
Go too far forward on these locks and our boat will be flooded with water.
That gate is leaking really quite badly, which is why Pru is in a bit of trouble there and getting the boat steady to tie up.
And thatâs not the only hazard.
Never let the rope fall in the water.
What? Oh, Christ.
Just give me the rope.
Yeah.
Sorry.
If that goes in the prop, its really trouble.
Yeah, donât worry about all that.
Just give it me.
Uh-huh.
All right.
OK.
This section is going to be a lot tougher than wed expected.
Well both have to improve because ahead of us are ten more locks exactly like this one.
Its been a tough day and a half.
Not wonderful weather and weâve seen some very difficult locks and shes managing terribly well, I think.
I mean, really, one has to recognise that Pru's domestic life is getting a little narrower by the day.
So we do this.
Maybe we are living on borrowed time.
Maybe anybody in their 80s who gets up in the morning and has a scrambled egg is getting on borrowed time.
Canals allow me to make the most of the time I do have and here in this timeless, tranquil place, my worries drift away.
Inevitably, there are moments when the modern world intrudes, like here at Wisley.
This canal was built 350 years ago .
.
and now weâve got the M25.
Is that it, going across there? I rest my case.
Well, Id rather travel at 4mph than whatever they go at on the M25.
Some days you might even get there quicker.
Ha! Yes.
For 40 years, canals have run through our marriage like silver threads.
Holding us closer together.
This waterway holds the secrets of another love story from four centuries past.
Hello, Paul.
Hello.
Hi, Tim.
Nice to see you.
Dr Paul Vlitos is coming aboard to tell us a tale of forbidden love between the Jacobean poet John Donne and the young lady above his station.
He had started off going into a career as a diplomat.
He had been taken under the wing of an important courtier called Sir Thomas Egerton and then he fell in love with the niece of his employer.
What was she like? She was 16 years old, for one thing.
A cradle snatcher.
Iâm afraid so.
She was very much younger and he was sort of around 30 at this time.
Whoops.
So they kept it a secret and then they married in secret in London and he eventually, after many months, revealed it to her father and he hoped that the father would forgive them and, I guess, pay the dowry and they would all live happily ever after.
And did it? It didnât happen.
Absolutely not.
No, they were completely cut off.
Dad didnât play? Dad didnât play.
Both Donne and the priest who married them we're temporarily imprisoned and then he found itself living at the point where we are just going to pass.
Two star-crossed lovers, exiles here on the banks of the Wey.
How romantic.
So, it was true love, was it? Well, I mean he sacrificed a lot for her and then he wrote some really powerful love poetry.
And thereâs a wonderful poem called The Bait, which I think is very relevant, in which hes talking about a relationship in terms of the fisherman and the fish.
When thou wilt swim in that live bath, Each fish, which every channel hath Will amorously to thee swim Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
No, she is the seducer, isnât she? For thee, thou need'st no such deceit, For thou thyself art thine own bait, That fish, that is not catch'd thereby, Alas, is wiser far than I.
Well, do women seduce men or do men seduce women? Well, its also about being complicit in being seduced, isnât it? It takes two.
Whoever was the seducer, their love and this waterway inspired a poem thatâs stood the test of time.
Thank you.
Thanks so much.
Have a great journey.
Lovely talking to you.
And you.
Cheers.
See you soon.
If you ever felt like writing a poem for me, darling, I wouldnât mind.
Oh, all right.
There was a young lady from Wandsworth CRASH Oops.
Are we stuck? Yes, we are stuck.
Give us a good push with the pole.
Its just coming, I think.
Tim! We're off.
Right, we're free.
One more lock to tackle before tonightâs mooring, but after a long day, we are both starting to feel the strain.
Can you just tie us off and give Paul a hand, will you? Cant hear you.
Tie us off.
What? Tie us off, please.
Tie it up? We are now passing the 12th century Newark Priory.
Standing alone in the gathering gloom, its ruins speak to us from the distant past.
Nothing is forever, they say.
Change is always on its way.
And so is that storm.
The lock keeper at Town Lock said thereâs going to be a really Oh, yeah.
Really bad storm tonight.
Oh, right.
Really bad with very high winds.
So we must find a safe mooring.
Well, yes.
A firm mooring.
Yes.
This wind and everything, its really quite frightening, I think.
We reach our mooring not a moment too soon.
Well, weâve made it.
Yes.
We did.
OK? Yup.
What month are we? Bloody June.
Blow winds and crack your cheeks.
Rage! Blow! You cataracts from hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drowned the ducks! As King Lear might have said.
Last nights storm has passed and at last the sun is out.
And so are the ducks.
PRU LAUGHS Oh, he just chased her off.
Here we are.
Come on.
We're following Londonâs lost route to the sea.
And we still have a fair way to go before we reach the coast.
So, now that breakfast is over, Pru, we should move on.
Today, well pass through the market town of Guildford.
Well say goodbye to the Wey navigation at Shalford.
The Wey and Arun Canal is still largely unnavigable, but we join it at Loxwood and continue our journey, heading south.
Incredible to believe that we are, at the moment, in suburban Surrey.
No pylons, no telephone wires or anything.
Reminds me of the Surrey of my childhood.
Unspoiled and, in places, quite wild.
Its lovely to know that there are still places in this country where nothing has changed over hundreds of years.
The next lock is Bowers and its a tricky one to steer into, so Pru will have to do the lock wheeling.
OK? But, after a storm-tossed night, we're both a little frazzled.
Iâm not strong enough.
I cant hold you.
Look, I cant I cant Look! Look! Er, what? Tim! Tim! You would think that, after 40 years of practice, wed have got our lock drilled down to a T.
Well, not today.
Just hold onto it.
we're going into the lock.
But what can I do with this? Hold on to it.
Just take it in over the top.
Youâre going too fast for me.
Thatâs it.
I cant get it under the bridge.
Just walk down the side of the lock.
What? Walk down the side of the lock! What about the? Walk down the side of the lock, holding the rope! I cant.
Donât be silly.
Well, now No, you cant do that, actually.
What? No, let it go.
Sorry, Pru.
Youâre quite right.
My mistake.
Is that all right, Tim? Thatâs great.
Yes, lovely, thank you.
He might get grumpy sometimes, but I still quite love him.
Well done.
On the outskirts of Guildford now, passing the oldest and once the busiest wharf on the navigation.
For over 300 years, barges carrying wood, corn and gunpowder left from Dapdune Wharf, bound for London.
We're right in the middle of Guildford now and thatâs the thing about canals, because youâre seeing everything from the back.
Mm.
You donât quite realise where you are, until you get to I know.
Well, I grew up, you know, just outside Guildford.
And I didnât know there was a canal here at all.
I might not know Guildfords canal, but I do know its canalside theatre.
And it looks like weâve got a welcoming committee.
Oh, sorry! I hope they didnât see that.
Hello! Hello! There you all are.
Hello.
Good to see you all.
Weâve trodden the boards of Guildfords theatre countless times over the years.
Named after the legendary French actress who lived in Guildford, the Yvonne Arnaud opened in 1965 and its an extra special time to pay them a visit.
This week marks the playhouses golden anniversary.
Hello.
Here to welcome us are two old friends, theatre manager Brian Kirk and director James Barber.
ALL TALK How lovely to see you.
A little toast? Oh.
Pru, Tim, welcome back for our 50th birthday.
Pru, Tim.
Thank you.
Oh, its very exciting.
Thrilling to be here.
50 years.
Lovely, cheers, Tim.
Cheers.
I remember when you opened.
1965, June.
Mm.
Yes.
The fourth or third, or whatever it was.
Were you actually in the company the following year? Night Is For Delight? No, I Night Is For Delight.
Because Thatâs Brians present.
Well, here, weâve found the programme.
Oh! Directed by Laurie Allister.
Yeah.
Golly! And, Pru, inside, there is a song that you sang.
Your song, number three on the list, was called Oh, yes.
.
.
Virgins Anonymous? Thatâs the one.
Why did they choose me? Oh! LAUGHTER Makes you have a think about it.
Well, because you we're anonymous.
So youâve been coming here for nearly 50 years and its our 50th birthday this week.
Ah! Do you actually know how many plays, between you, youâve done here? I would have to look it up, I have no idea.
Yeah.
Its 35 or 36.
Thatâs incredible.
Yeah.
I think it has to be more than anybody else.
Our journey along this lost route to the sea is bringing back wave after wave of memories.
Great to see you both.
Lovely to see you both.
And everybody.
And wed like to wish you well.
Ooh! Cheers, Tim.
Bless you.
More personal memories are bubbling to the surface, too, of living in Surrey long, long ago.
This is the Tillingbourne.
Oh, right.
Which goes right the way through, past Abinger Hammer and up to your house.
Oh! Yep.
Yes, of course.
We are so close, I cant resist making a detour.
Thereâs the house I was born in.
Yeah? Yeah.
The current owners have kindly allowed me to take a glimpse into my earliest childhood.
I left this house when I was just six years old.
How much has changed, how much will I remember? Hello.
Hello, welcome.
How do you do? Welcome to the Old Forge.
Oh, the Forge, yes.
Please, come in.
Hello.
These are for you.
Oh, how lovely.
Thank you very, very much.
Ah, thatâs sweet.
Thatâs lovely.
Thank you so much.
Hello, Iâm Tim.
Welcome.
Welcome, mind your head.
Extraordinary.
Extraordinary.
Well, I last saw this house when I was smaller than you, I think.
This was the dining room.
Yeah.
Yes.
And the kitchens through there, isnât it? Thatâs right.
Still is.
Yes.
Do come through.
Right.
Memoryâs a funny thing.
Sometimes I have trouble recalling what I did yesterday, but the home I left 78 years ago, it still feels like well, home, really.
Could you bear us to have a look upstairs? No, not at all.
Please do.
Thank you so much.
Weâve got Now, do you remember two staircases? There was one very steep staircase, this end, and then Yeah.
.
.
then I think the one we were allowed to use was a bit more gentle at the other end.
Yeah.
Just inside the front door.
Thatâs right.
Yes.
So youâre going to show Pru your rooms, yeah? Oh, lovely, thank you.
Wow.
No banisters.
I think this may have been my dads study, actually.
And what happens down here? Weâve got two bathrooms, one that side Oh, two bathrooms! And one sort of down there.
Well, the other one is just a toilet.
We never we never had that.
Yeah.
Thank you, darling.
All right.
Well, who sleeps in here? I do.
You do? On your own? Yeah.
I think my parents slept in this room.
And my brother and I slept .
.
through there, in what we called the night nursery.
So this is probably where you were born, was it? In your parents room, that would make sense.
Er yes, I suppose it is, cos I was born at home, wasnât I? Mm.
Yes.
But I mean in this room? Well, it will have been, yes.
Yeah.
Cos this is my parents bedroom.
Wow! This is the room I was born in.
Wow.
Do you mind my having borrowed it for when I was born? Do you? I donât mind.
Well, thatâs very kind of you.
Well, thank you very, very much.
Its gorgeous.
Its been lovely.
Lovely, lovely to see you.
Fantastic.
Iâm 83 now.
And this canal journey has brought me a complete circle, back to where it all began.
THEY TALK Goodbye now.
BOTH: Bye-bye.
Bye! Bye.
Goodbye, thanks.
Sweet, sweet memories becoming clearer of what it felt like to be me all those years ago.
Life was fun.
And it still is.
Writing at his home beside the Wey in 1871, Lewis Carroll wrote about the memories of another little girl, called Alice.
Echoes fade and memories die.
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise.
Alice moving under skies.
Never seen by waking eyes.
In a Wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by, dreaming as the summers die.
Ever drifting down the stream.
Lingering in the golden gleam.
Life, what is it but a dream? Two miles south of Guildford, we reach Shalford.
Ahead of us is the Wey and Arun Junction Canal, this is the actual junction.
This is where we leave the Wey navigation.
In 1867, JB Dashwood turned here, onto the Wey and Arun Canal, to continue his voyage to the coast.
Sadly, today its where Londonâs lost route to the sea does get completely lost.
Itâll be the end of the line for this boat that we borrowed, because it gets really unnavigable quite soon.
All right? Hello! Hello! Luckily, we're not left stranded.
Philip and Alan from the Wey and Arun Canal Trust are here to show us the way.
So the closest, as far as we can go, Dashwood managed it in his very manageable, small craft.
Dashwood would have gone under this bridge.
Yeah.
But, for the moment, this is the end.
Yep.
The link to the sea was broken when, as is often the case with canals, competition from the railways forced the Wey and Arun to close to commercial traffic in Beyond the bridge, the next stretch of the canal is now just a decorative feature at the bottom of peoples gardens.
But all is not lost.
Since the 1970s, the Trusts 3,000 members have been hard at work, bringing this bygone canal back to life.
Its recently restored a section further south.
Quite a lot of them come along with their shovels and spades or their saws and drills and make things, achieve new locks and bridges and so on.
Mm.
So we're very hopeful that well see the canal connected through, certainly in my lifetime.
Great.
Yes.
We're sent south to Loxwood, where the Trust have already restored a section of the route.
Hidden away in the Sussex countryside, is a remote and isolated stretch of canal.
Following the lost route to the sea requires all sorts of vessels and weâve transferred onto one of only three boats on this stretch.
Is this the most remote canal weâve ever been on? I think it probably is, yes.
It is? Its funny, its Iâm just trying to think what it is that makes you feel that you are absolutely the first person .
.
whos been along here.
We're not, of course, but its I think its the clarity of the water.
Its like glass.
Its completely calm.
Its almost a shame to be coming along it in a powered boat, isnât it? Imagine youâre Mrs Dashwood now, traveling along with her husband in this small boat with a small sail.
Not making any noise at all, just gliding through the water.
So beautiful, so calm.
Like we're gliding back through time.
We come to one of three aqueducts on the canal, at Drungewick.
Once collapsed when the canal was in disuse, thanks to the Trust, its now been completely restored.
You can see thereâs a river there, just.
Yes, yes.
Yes, yes.
Sadly, our magical meander along this restored waterway drifts to a halt.
Weâve reached the point where it becomes unnavigable again.
Londonâs lost way to the sea Oh! .
.
gets lost here.
Oh! This isnât the end of our journey, is it? No, no.
No.
No, weâve got to carry on, till we get to the coast.
Just, it wont be this way.
Not for a few years, at least.
Weâve been retracing Londonâs lost way to the sea but our route gets lost here, in the deepest of Sussex countryside, when the Wey and Arun Canal comes to an abrupt stop.
To continue our journey to the coast, we need to pick up the route further south, where it becomes navigable again.
Leaving the canals behind, we join the River Arun, which flows down past Arundel Castle to meet the English Channel at Littlehampton.
To enter the tidal waters of the River Arun, weâve picked up our third vessel.
Getting quite near the sea now in this boat.
Yes.
Weâve exchanged the enclosed woodlands of the canal for a floodplain and its wonderful to be in open country.
Arundel Castle.
See? Oh, right.
Lovely.
What do we know about Arundel Castle? Its the seat of the Duke of Norfolk.
We're going to stop off, have a look at the castle.
Pity to miss it.
For centuries, Arundel was an inland port, and the entrance to this important waterway was guarded by the castle, allowing the dukes to control the trade.
The Dukes of Norfolk also had a hand in creating Londonâs lost route to the sea.
To find out more, we're paying a visit to the castles archive, run by Dr John Robinson.
I just want to show you this picture, which is by William Daniell, and it just shows the route youâve just come down Terrific, yes.
.
.
with the river coming down past the castle, you see, with all the different sorts of boats on it, little boats and barges.
150 years ago, canal explorer JB Dashwood sailed right past this castle on his way to the coast, though the port of Littlehampton wasnât the final destination he had in mind.
Dashwood had set his sights on the Spithead Review at Portsmouth.
To get there, he planned on leaving the River Arun to join another of the Duke of Norfolks investments - the Portsmouth and Arundale Canal.
In the late 18th and early 19th century, they built the canal from Arundale to Portsmouth.
One of the reasons for that was because of the war with France and the money, the gold, came down from London to pay the sailors at Portsmouth, the fleet.
And therefore, they didnât want it on the high seas, where French privateers might have captured it.
Yeah.
It was a huge investment in doing this.
It was designed by John Rennie, the engineer.
Oh, right.
Yes.
But in 1815, with peace with France, it almost immediately became a white elephant Yes.
.
.
because there was no need then for this sort of security.
You could go just as easily round the coast.
And this, of course, is the route that JB Dashwood was trying to follow cos he wanted to get to the Royal Naval Review at Spithead, but he was just too late.
It was unusable by that time.
Yes.
I mean, the canal went out of use very quickly.
Yeah.
Dashwood had no choice but to carry on south to Littlehampton, which is also what we need to do.
There will be strong currents as we approach Littlehampton, so harbourmaster Billy Johnson has offered to take us on the last stretch to the sea.
Hello, Billy.
Hello, Tim.
Welcome aboard.
Good to see you.
Hi.
Billy.
Hello, hello.
Thank you for having us.
Pleased to meet you.
Come aboard Thank you very much.
.
.
into the Erica.
Cheers.
Lovely.
Welcome aboard.
A mile from the coast, we spot a gap in the muddy banks.
I think there, where those boats are moored Yes.
.
.
that must be the entrance to the Portsmouth and Arundale Canal.
Oh.
What there is left of it.
Down there.
Lord, Lord! Just a trickle.
Very sad.
Today, remnants of this lost waterway still haunt the landscape along its former path.
The canal is not completely gone.
Perhaps one day, just like the Wey and Arun Canal, the Portsmouth and Arundale will also be brought back to life.
So, wheres the sea? Right in front of us.
Are we nearly there? Yes, we are very nearly there.
Dashwoods approach to the Channel was much like our own.
He writes The appearance of the river now showed us we were evidently approaching the sea.
Its great width and the number of small craft of every description dotted about presented a very animated appearance.
No more locks to open, no more aggravating gates to pass.
A sense of freedom and rest stole over us as we bounded merrily over the waves.
Weâve made it! Yup.
Thatâs it.
Wow.
English Channel.
So, lost route to the sea, but we found it.
Its been quite a historic journey for me.
I mean, through darkest Surrey, where I was born, and then to the coast.
Its been a wonderful voyage into the past, from our own distant memories to lost canals and forgotten canal writers.
But we're back in the present now and that looks rather wonderful, too.
So, Mr and Mrs Dashwood came down here and moored .
.
and went to the pub, I suppose.
Well, its a thought.
Next week, the Grand Union from Birmingham, the city of 1,000 trades.
Its the Venice of the North, really.
We journey with our loved ones .
.
through the great arteries of the Industrial Revolution This is the nastiest tunnel that Iâve ever experienced! .
.
to the spiritual heart of the canal network.
Thatâs the way to travel.
For me, it doesnât get better than this.
And Iâm Timothy West.
Beautiful.
We've been husband and wife for over five decades.
Amazing.
Cheers.
We've been wedded to stage and screen for even longer.
Great hairdo! Ha-ha.
But we share another passion - canals.
Cast off, please.
Aye-aye, sir.
Canals wind through our lives, carrying our treasured memories Of families growing up, Of moments of wonder And hidden beauty.
Is this the most remote canal we've ever been on? It probably is, yes.
Of love And laughter.
Hey! Sorry about that.
Things are a bit harder for me these days.
Iâm not strong enough.
But we get by.
We're at the Sun Inn! Hooray! Pru has a slight condition.
It does mean she has difficulty remembering things.
Oh, my darling.
I'm so sorry.
I didnât cast you off! One has to recognise that Pru's domestic life is getting a little narrower by the day.
Well, it can be a nuisance, but it doesn't stop me remembering how to open a lock gate, or make the skipper a cup of tea.
OK.
Cast off.
OK.
Well be exploring new countries.
It's amazing, isnât it? And following new routes.
I'm lost now.
But one thing stays the same We're always together.
Let's stay right here.
So peaceful.
It's no accident that our capital city was founded on the banks of the Thames.
And London is connected to the rest of the country via a network of waterways.
Over 40 years of boating, Pru and I have explored nearly all of them.
But there is an almost forgotten route that once linked the city with the south coast of England.
This week, we go in search of London's lost route to the sea.
Right through suburban London into a hidden waterway lost in time.
We're going to meet absolutely no-one.
Our voyage back through history will also lead us into our own past.
Wow! This is the room I was born in.
A route last fully open nearly 150 years ago has its occasional hazards.
Are we stuck? Yes, we are stuck.
And unexpected challenges.
We just have to turn round and go home again? But, somehow, we're determined to make it from London to the sea.
Our journey begins in south-west London at the tidal limit of the Thames.
200 years ago, barges passed through the locks here at Teddington bound for the south coast.
This spot also plays a part in Pru's own history.
So, here we are.
Teddington Lock.
Teddington Lock.
Teddington Studios there.
Remember? Oh, yes! You did After Henry.
It was a 1980s sitcom.
And I played Sarah, a middle-aged widow, living with both her mother and daughter.
Very happy memories.
Id forgotten it was Teddington.
Yeah.
The waterways that we're following on this voyage will bring back memories for both of us.
Right.
Lets set sail into the past.
And to transport us there, a 60-foot canal boat.
Well, Here's the galley.
Wood-burning stove.
Oh, yes.
Useful in June.
Yes.
This kind of June, anyway.
Lets get off then, weâve got a long way to go.
Aye, sir.
Its cold and wet, but this typical English summer weather fails to dampen our spirit of adventure.
OK.
Cast off.
While most of Britainâs inland waterways are covered by numerous guidebooks, for much of this voyage we have only the writings of a Victorian schoolteacher to follow.
It was 1867 when JB Dashwood and his new wife Maria set out on this same journey in a small sailing dinghy.
Like us, they were attempting to reach the English Channel via a series of rivers and canals.
Our voyage begins on the River Thames.
At Weybridge, well turn south onto the Wey Navigation Canal before transferring onto the Wey and Arun.
Stretches of this almost unused waterway are unnavigable but, by using four separate boats, we should finally reach the English Channel.
Over the centuries, the Thames has carried everything from wheat and coal to courtiers and kings.
Some of the houses round here are rather grand.
Yes.
Wah! Look at them.
Yes, the ideas to look grand because youâre arriving by water.
That ones quite grand, isnât it? Ha! Hampton Court Palace.
Yes.
That'll do.
Yeah.
Yeah.
It might be most famous as the Tudor palace of King Henry VIII, but, from the river, it is William and Marys baroque extension that steals the show.
Sort of an English Versailles, really.
A mile upriver from Hampton Court lies a more modest structure, but one that holds a special place in our hearts.
It might look like a folly but it is, in fact, a shrine honouring the greatest playwright of them all.
We're just coming up to Garricks Temple.
Built by David Garrick, the great actor, in the 18th century as a country retreat.
And as a kind of temple to Shakespeare.
And, incidentally, to himself.
Weâve come to pay homage to the great Bard in the hope that hell bring us luck on our journey to the sea.
And also to take tea with the temples chairman of trustees, our old pal, actor Clive Francis.
Oh, goodness gracious me! Oh, dear Pru.
Iâm so thrilled to welcome you here.
Its wonderful to see you.
Lovely place youâve got here.
It is a nice little place, yes.
Like David Garrick, we both owe so much to William Shakespeare.
I feel I should genuflect.
Oh, he would have appreciated that, believe you me.
Yes.
And this is the great Roubiliac statue of Shakespeare which Garrick, of course, posed for, as you can imagine.
Clive continues a temple tradition and offers us tea, just as the great actor Garrick would have done.
He was the, sort of, Laurence Olivier of his day.
But in terms of his stardom he was like the Beckham of his day.
Huge, huge star.
Before him, all the performers used to declaim very loudly on the stage.
Come down to the front and shout.
They had to because the audience were talking most of the time.
They weren't listening to the play.
It was Garrick that really quietened them down.
Garrick insisted that guests to his temple pay for their visit with an ode in praise of Shakespeare.
"O, Garrick," it had better start.
"Monarch of the stage.
" Tim, I hope youâre feeling inspired.
We need the Bard to bless our journey.
Very good.
Sickeningly good at this! Iâm terribly impressed that this is coming off the top of your head.
Enjoy thespian camaraderie.
Youâre sickeningly good at it.
Shall I read it to you? Yes, please.
O, Garrick, monarch of the stage Our thanks that in this modern age we're able to enjoy with tea And thespian camaraderie The chance to view with warm regard This temple to the immortal Bard Here in this peaceful Thamesside haven Who cares for Stratford-upon-Avon? Absolutely perfect! Stay with us.
Well, hell bring you all the luck you want.
Well, listen, its been a great treat having you.
It really has.
Really good.
Thank you so much.
God bless, Pru, my darling.
Weâve got a little bit of a way to go yet.
A couple of locks but they do them for us.
Oh, thatâs lovely.
All the locks on this stretch of the Thames are manned.
It feels like quite a luxury.
All I have to do is throw them a line.
Oh, sorry.
No.
I think Iâm better right-handed.
Well done.
Oh, thank God.
Sorry.
Donât worry.
Youâre doing all right.
We both are.
Being out on the canal together is what we love and its something that we share.
I donât see any reason to stop.
At the moment.
Obviously, things are going to get more difficult but lets not cross the bridges before we come to them.
Lets just enjoy it while we can.
And we can.
Hello.
Yes, hello.
Red or white? Red, please.
If thatâs all right for you.
Yes, fine.
OK.
Is it all right, drinking at the tiller? It has been known.
Cheers.
Cheers.
As we reach our moorings for the night, we are greeted by the evening sun.
Lovely spot, isnât it? Isnât it beautiful? The Thames carries on west but weâve got our sights set on the English Channel.
So, tomorrow, well turn south onto the Wey Navigation.
Thatâs darkest Surrey, isnât it? Quite near where I was born.
Its quite civilised now.
Ha! I didnât know about canals in those days.
Well, there you are, you see, thatâs the thing.
One doesnât know about canals.
Theyâre often on your doorstep and you donât look.
Youâre looking the other way.
All right? Amazing.
Cheers.
Supper? Yeah.
I think so.
Yeah.
Its the second day of our journey along Londonâs lost route to the sea and weâve reached Weybridge.
Today, well say goodbye to the River Thames and into the Wey Navigation at the start of our long voyage south.
We're doing this journey all this way down to, eventually, Arundel and to the sea.
These days it is certainly not a well-traveled route.
Our map is Victorian and so, indeed, is our guidebook, which is the account of a voyage in 1867 along the same route but in a small dinghy.
At 12 oâclock on the morning of July the 8th, 1867, the little Una boat Caprice weighed anchor on her voyage from Weybridge to the Solent.
The day was lovely and all seemed to smile success on this adventurous expedition.
Our crew consisted of your humble servant and his better half.
The oars were out and we paddled her up to the first lock on the Wey.
Following the Dashwoods into the Wey Navigation, we pass an old flour mill before gliding under the M25 and into the Surrey countryside .
.
drifting by the ruins of Newark Priory before we moor at Triggs Lock for the night.
The great age of canal building was during the Industrial Revolution, but the Wey Navigation predates that by over a century.
Built just after the Civil War, some say it is the oldest canal in the country.
A more primitive waterway than its successors, its really simply an adapted river.
This, the first lock on the way, is manned by National Trust volunteers.
There is a weather warning out for tonight.
Very strong winds.
Very strong winds? Really heavy rain.
Just overnight, do you think? Yeah.
Overnights going to be the worst, yeah.
OK.
Good.
Thank you.
Right, well weâve been warned.
No sign of the wind yet.
It all seems rather tranquil.
Amazing luxury houses.
Wow.
This one would really be happier in Beverly Hills.
Weâve now reached a junction where the Wey Navigation canal takes a different course from the river.
Here I have to negotiate this 60-foot beast through a 90 degree turn with just a few feet to spare.
Oh.
As we approach Coxes Lock, we spot a reminder of the Weys industrial past.
Thereâs a dark Satanic mill.
What was it for? I think it was a flour mill.
What will happen to it now? What will it be, flats? I should think so, yeah.
Nice flats.
Yes.
Its easy to forget that this waterway was once a vital supply route for London.
When the city was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, it was timber brought up from Surrey on the Wey Navigation that rebuilt the capital.
Although by 1880, the route through to the coast was closed, this section carried commercial traffic for another 100 years.
And its locks were certainly built for working boatman, not for actresses.
I cant move this bugger.
Iâm sorry, I cant move it.
Tim, Iâm not strong enough.
OK, Ill come around.
Thatâs a Yep.
Oh, brilliant.
Oh, youâve got a longer Iâve got a longer what? Look, your key is Got a longer Ah, that it.
Its not just your strength.
Look.
Yes.
Complaining about the length of my implement, again.
No, no, never let it be said.
These locks have been too stiff and heavy for Pru to open so weâve had to swap roles and she has taken the helm.
Pull her right round.
No, no, no, to your left.
Not too fast.
Not too fast.
Reverse.
Reverse.
Its not the boat Iâm used to and I cant get the gears to work.
Stop.
No.
Pru! Stop.
Go too far forward on these locks and our boat will be flooded with water.
That gate is leaking really quite badly, which is why Pru is in a bit of trouble there and getting the boat steady to tie up.
And thatâs not the only hazard.
Never let the rope fall in the water.
What? Oh, Christ.
Just give me the rope.
Yeah.
Sorry.
If that goes in the prop, its really trouble.
Yeah, donât worry about all that.
Just give it me.
Uh-huh.
All right.
OK.
This section is going to be a lot tougher than wed expected.
Well both have to improve because ahead of us are ten more locks exactly like this one.
Its been a tough day and a half.
Not wonderful weather and weâve seen some very difficult locks and shes managing terribly well, I think.
I mean, really, one has to recognise that Pru's domestic life is getting a little narrower by the day.
So we do this.
Maybe we are living on borrowed time.
Maybe anybody in their 80s who gets up in the morning and has a scrambled egg is getting on borrowed time.
Canals allow me to make the most of the time I do have and here in this timeless, tranquil place, my worries drift away.
Inevitably, there are moments when the modern world intrudes, like here at Wisley.
This canal was built 350 years ago .
.
and now weâve got the M25.
Is that it, going across there? I rest my case.
Well, Id rather travel at 4mph than whatever they go at on the M25.
Some days you might even get there quicker.
Ha! Yes.
For 40 years, canals have run through our marriage like silver threads.
Holding us closer together.
This waterway holds the secrets of another love story from four centuries past.
Hello, Paul.
Hello.
Hi, Tim.
Nice to see you.
Dr Paul Vlitos is coming aboard to tell us a tale of forbidden love between the Jacobean poet John Donne and the young lady above his station.
He had started off going into a career as a diplomat.
He had been taken under the wing of an important courtier called Sir Thomas Egerton and then he fell in love with the niece of his employer.
What was she like? She was 16 years old, for one thing.
A cradle snatcher.
Iâm afraid so.
She was very much younger and he was sort of around 30 at this time.
Whoops.
So they kept it a secret and then they married in secret in London and he eventually, after many months, revealed it to her father and he hoped that the father would forgive them and, I guess, pay the dowry and they would all live happily ever after.
And did it? It didnât happen.
Absolutely not.
No, they were completely cut off.
Dad didnât play? Dad didnât play.
Both Donne and the priest who married them we're temporarily imprisoned and then he found itself living at the point where we are just going to pass.
Two star-crossed lovers, exiles here on the banks of the Wey.
How romantic.
So, it was true love, was it? Well, I mean he sacrificed a lot for her and then he wrote some really powerful love poetry.
And thereâs a wonderful poem called The Bait, which I think is very relevant, in which hes talking about a relationship in terms of the fisherman and the fish.
When thou wilt swim in that live bath, Each fish, which every channel hath Will amorously to thee swim Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
No, she is the seducer, isnât she? For thee, thou need'st no such deceit, For thou thyself art thine own bait, That fish, that is not catch'd thereby, Alas, is wiser far than I.
Well, do women seduce men or do men seduce women? Well, its also about being complicit in being seduced, isnât it? It takes two.
Whoever was the seducer, their love and this waterway inspired a poem thatâs stood the test of time.
Thank you.
Thanks so much.
Have a great journey.
Lovely talking to you.
And you.
Cheers.
See you soon.
If you ever felt like writing a poem for me, darling, I wouldnât mind.
Oh, all right.
There was a young lady from Wandsworth CRASH Oops.
Are we stuck? Yes, we are stuck.
Give us a good push with the pole.
Its just coming, I think.
Tim! We're off.
Right, we're free.
One more lock to tackle before tonightâs mooring, but after a long day, we are both starting to feel the strain.
Can you just tie us off and give Paul a hand, will you? Cant hear you.
Tie us off.
What? Tie us off, please.
Tie it up? We are now passing the 12th century Newark Priory.
Standing alone in the gathering gloom, its ruins speak to us from the distant past.
Nothing is forever, they say.
Change is always on its way.
And so is that storm.
The lock keeper at Town Lock said thereâs going to be a really Oh, yeah.
Really bad storm tonight.
Oh, right.
Really bad with very high winds.
So we must find a safe mooring.
Well, yes.
A firm mooring.
Yes.
This wind and everything, its really quite frightening, I think.
We reach our mooring not a moment too soon.
Well, weâve made it.
Yes.
We did.
OK? Yup.
What month are we? Bloody June.
Blow winds and crack your cheeks.
Rage! Blow! You cataracts from hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drowned the ducks! As King Lear might have said.
Last nights storm has passed and at last the sun is out.
And so are the ducks.
PRU LAUGHS Oh, he just chased her off.
Here we are.
Come on.
We're following Londonâs lost route to the sea.
And we still have a fair way to go before we reach the coast.
So, now that breakfast is over, Pru, we should move on.
Today, well pass through the market town of Guildford.
Well say goodbye to the Wey navigation at Shalford.
The Wey and Arun Canal is still largely unnavigable, but we join it at Loxwood and continue our journey, heading south.
Incredible to believe that we are, at the moment, in suburban Surrey.
No pylons, no telephone wires or anything.
Reminds me of the Surrey of my childhood.
Unspoiled and, in places, quite wild.
Its lovely to know that there are still places in this country where nothing has changed over hundreds of years.
The next lock is Bowers and its a tricky one to steer into, so Pru will have to do the lock wheeling.
OK? But, after a storm-tossed night, we're both a little frazzled.
Iâm not strong enough.
I cant hold you.
Look, I cant I cant Look! Look! Er, what? Tim! Tim! You would think that, after 40 years of practice, wed have got our lock drilled down to a T.
Well, not today.
Just hold onto it.
we're going into the lock.
But what can I do with this? Hold on to it.
Just take it in over the top.
Youâre going too fast for me.
Thatâs it.
I cant get it under the bridge.
Just walk down the side of the lock.
What? Walk down the side of the lock! What about the? Walk down the side of the lock, holding the rope! I cant.
Donât be silly.
Well, now No, you cant do that, actually.
What? No, let it go.
Sorry, Pru.
Youâre quite right.
My mistake.
Is that all right, Tim? Thatâs great.
Yes, lovely, thank you.
He might get grumpy sometimes, but I still quite love him.
Well done.
On the outskirts of Guildford now, passing the oldest and once the busiest wharf on the navigation.
For over 300 years, barges carrying wood, corn and gunpowder left from Dapdune Wharf, bound for London.
We're right in the middle of Guildford now and thatâs the thing about canals, because youâre seeing everything from the back.
Mm.
You donât quite realise where you are, until you get to I know.
Well, I grew up, you know, just outside Guildford.
And I didnât know there was a canal here at all.
I might not know Guildfords canal, but I do know its canalside theatre.
And it looks like weâve got a welcoming committee.
Oh, sorry! I hope they didnât see that.
Hello! Hello! There you all are.
Hello.
Good to see you all.
Weâve trodden the boards of Guildfords theatre countless times over the years.
Named after the legendary French actress who lived in Guildford, the Yvonne Arnaud opened in 1965 and its an extra special time to pay them a visit.
This week marks the playhouses golden anniversary.
Hello.
Here to welcome us are two old friends, theatre manager Brian Kirk and director James Barber.
ALL TALK How lovely to see you.
A little toast? Oh.
Pru, Tim, welcome back for our 50th birthday.
Pru, Tim.
Thank you.
Oh, its very exciting.
Thrilling to be here.
50 years.
Lovely, cheers, Tim.
Cheers.
I remember when you opened.
1965, June.
Mm.
Yes.
The fourth or third, or whatever it was.
Were you actually in the company the following year? Night Is For Delight? No, I Night Is For Delight.
Because Thatâs Brians present.
Well, here, weâve found the programme.
Oh! Directed by Laurie Allister.
Yeah.
Golly! And, Pru, inside, there is a song that you sang.
Your song, number three on the list, was called Oh, yes.
.
.
Virgins Anonymous? Thatâs the one.
Why did they choose me? Oh! LAUGHTER Makes you have a think about it.
Well, because you we're anonymous.
So youâve been coming here for nearly 50 years and its our 50th birthday this week.
Ah! Do you actually know how many plays, between you, youâve done here? I would have to look it up, I have no idea.
Yeah.
Its 35 or 36.
Thatâs incredible.
Yeah.
I think it has to be more than anybody else.
Our journey along this lost route to the sea is bringing back wave after wave of memories.
Great to see you both.
Lovely to see you both.
And everybody.
And wed like to wish you well.
Ooh! Cheers, Tim.
Bless you.
More personal memories are bubbling to the surface, too, of living in Surrey long, long ago.
This is the Tillingbourne.
Oh, right.
Which goes right the way through, past Abinger Hammer and up to your house.
Oh! Yep.
Yes, of course.
We are so close, I cant resist making a detour.
Thereâs the house I was born in.
Yeah? Yeah.
The current owners have kindly allowed me to take a glimpse into my earliest childhood.
I left this house when I was just six years old.
How much has changed, how much will I remember? Hello.
Hello, welcome.
How do you do? Welcome to the Old Forge.
Oh, the Forge, yes.
Please, come in.
Hello.
These are for you.
Oh, how lovely.
Thank you very, very much.
Ah, thatâs sweet.
Thatâs lovely.
Thank you so much.
Hello, Iâm Tim.
Welcome.
Welcome, mind your head.
Extraordinary.
Extraordinary.
Well, I last saw this house when I was smaller than you, I think.
This was the dining room.
Yeah.
Yes.
And the kitchens through there, isnât it? Thatâs right.
Still is.
Yes.
Do come through.
Right.
Memoryâs a funny thing.
Sometimes I have trouble recalling what I did yesterday, but the home I left 78 years ago, it still feels like well, home, really.
Could you bear us to have a look upstairs? No, not at all.
Please do.
Thank you so much.
Weâve got Now, do you remember two staircases? There was one very steep staircase, this end, and then Yeah.
.
.
then I think the one we were allowed to use was a bit more gentle at the other end.
Yeah.
Just inside the front door.
Thatâs right.
Yes.
So youâre going to show Pru your rooms, yeah? Oh, lovely, thank you.
Wow.
No banisters.
I think this may have been my dads study, actually.
And what happens down here? Weâve got two bathrooms, one that side Oh, two bathrooms! And one sort of down there.
Well, the other one is just a toilet.
We never we never had that.
Yeah.
Thank you, darling.
All right.
Well, who sleeps in here? I do.
You do? On your own? Yeah.
I think my parents slept in this room.
And my brother and I slept .
.
through there, in what we called the night nursery.
So this is probably where you were born, was it? In your parents room, that would make sense.
Er yes, I suppose it is, cos I was born at home, wasnât I? Mm.
Yes.
But I mean in this room? Well, it will have been, yes.
Yeah.
Cos this is my parents bedroom.
Wow! This is the room I was born in.
Wow.
Do you mind my having borrowed it for when I was born? Do you? I donât mind.
Well, thatâs very kind of you.
Well, thank you very, very much.
Its gorgeous.
Its been lovely.
Lovely, lovely to see you.
Fantastic.
Iâm 83 now.
And this canal journey has brought me a complete circle, back to where it all began.
THEY TALK Goodbye now.
BOTH: Bye-bye.
Bye! Bye.
Goodbye, thanks.
Sweet, sweet memories becoming clearer of what it felt like to be me all those years ago.
Life was fun.
And it still is.
Writing at his home beside the Wey in 1871, Lewis Carroll wrote about the memories of another little girl, called Alice.
Echoes fade and memories die.
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise.
Alice moving under skies.
Never seen by waking eyes.
In a Wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by, dreaming as the summers die.
Ever drifting down the stream.
Lingering in the golden gleam.
Life, what is it but a dream? Two miles south of Guildford, we reach Shalford.
Ahead of us is the Wey and Arun Junction Canal, this is the actual junction.
This is where we leave the Wey navigation.
In 1867, JB Dashwood turned here, onto the Wey and Arun Canal, to continue his voyage to the coast.
Sadly, today its where Londonâs lost route to the sea does get completely lost.
Itâll be the end of the line for this boat that we borrowed, because it gets really unnavigable quite soon.
All right? Hello! Hello! Luckily, we're not left stranded.
Philip and Alan from the Wey and Arun Canal Trust are here to show us the way.
So the closest, as far as we can go, Dashwood managed it in his very manageable, small craft.
Dashwood would have gone under this bridge.
Yeah.
But, for the moment, this is the end.
Yep.
The link to the sea was broken when, as is often the case with canals, competition from the railways forced the Wey and Arun to close to commercial traffic in Beyond the bridge, the next stretch of the canal is now just a decorative feature at the bottom of peoples gardens.
But all is not lost.
Since the 1970s, the Trusts 3,000 members have been hard at work, bringing this bygone canal back to life.
Its recently restored a section further south.
Quite a lot of them come along with their shovels and spades or their saws and drills and make things, achieve new locks and bridges and so on.
Mm.
So we're very hopeful that well see the canal connected through, certainly in my lifetime.
Great.
Yes.
We're sent south to Loxwood, where the Trust have already restored a section of the route.
Hidden away in the Sussex countryside, is a remote and isolated stretch of canal.
Following the lost route to the sea requires all sorts of vessels and weâve transferred onto one of only three boats on this stretch.
Is this the most remote canal weâve ever been on? I think it probably is, yes.
It is? Its funny, its Iâm just trying to think what it is that makes you feel that you are absolutely the first person .
.
whos been along here.
We're not, of course, but its I think its the clarity of the water.
Its like glass.
Its completely calm.
Its almost a shame to be coming along it in a powered boat, isnât it? Imagine youâre Mrs Dashwood now, traveling along with her husband in this small boat with a small sail.
Not making any noise at all, just gliding through the water.
So beautiful, so calm.
Like we're gliding back through time.
We come to one of three aqueducts on the canal, at Drungewick.
Once collapsed when the canal was in disuse, thanks to the Trust, its now been completely restored.
You can see thereâs a river there, just.
Yes, yes.
Yes, yes.
Sadly, our magical meander along this restored waterway drifts to a halt.
Weâve reached the point where it becomes unnavigable again.
Londonâs lost way to the sea Oh! .
.
gets lost here.
Oh! This isnât the end of our journey, is it? No, no.
No.
No, weâve got to carry on, till we get to the coast.
Just, it wont be this way.
Not for a few years, at least.
Weâve been retracing Londonâs lost way to the sea but our route gets lost here, in the deepest of Sussex countryside, when the Wey and Arun Canal comes to an abrupt stop.
To continue our journey to the coast, we need to pick up the route further south, where it becomes navigable again.
Leaving the canals behind, we join the River Arun, which flows down past Arundel Castle to meet the English Channel at Littlehampton.
To enter the tidal waters of the River Arun, weâve picked up our third vessel.
Getting quite near the sea now in this boat.
Yes.
Weâve exchanged the enclosed woodlands of the canal for a floodplain and its wonderful to be in open country.
Arundel Castle.
See? Oh, right.
Lovely.
What do we know about Arundel Castle? Its the seat of the Duke of Norfolk.
We're going to stop off, have a look at the castle.
Pity to miss it.
For centuries, Arundel was an inland port, and the entrance to this important waterway was guarded by the castle, allowing the dukes to control the trade.
The Dukes of Norfolk also had a hand in creating Londonâs lost route to the sea.
To find out more, we're paying a visit to the castles archive, run by Dr John Robinson.
I just want to show you this picture, which is by William Daniell, and it just shows the route youâve just come down Terrific, yes.
.
.
with the river coming down past the castle, you see, with all the different sorts of boats on it, little boats and barges.
150 years ago, canal explorer JB Dashwood sailed right past this castle on his way to the coast, though the port of Littlehampton wasnât the final destination he had in mind.
Dashwood had set his sights on the Spithead Review at Portsmouth.
To get there, he planned on leaving the River Arun to join another of the Duke of Norfolks investments - the Portsmouth and Arundale Canal.
In the late 18th and early 19th century, they built the canal from Arundale to Portsmouth.
One of the reasons for that was because of the war with France and the money, the gold, came down from London to pay the sailors at Portsmouth, the fleet.
And therefore, they didnât want it on the high seas, where French privateers might have captured it.
Yeah.
It was a huge investment in doing this.
It was designed by John Rennie, the engineer.
Oh, right.
Yes.
But in 1815, with peace with France, it almost immediately became a white elephant Yes.
.
.
because there was no need then for this sort of security.
You could go just as easily round the coast.
And this, of course, is the route that JB Dashwood was trying to follow cos he wanted to get to the Royal Naval Review at Spithead, but he was just too late.
It was unusable by that time.
Yes.
I mean, the canal went out of use very quickly.
Yeah.
Dashwood had no choice but to carry on south to Littlehampton, which is also what we need to do.
There will be strong currents as we approach Littlehampton, so harbourmaster Billy Johnson has offered to take us on the last stretch to the sea.
Hello, Billy.
Hello, Tim.
Welcome aboard.
Good to see you.
Hi.
Billy.
Hello, hello.
Thank you for having us.
Pleased to meet you.
Come aboard Thank you very much.
.
.
into the Erica.
Cheers.
Lovely.
Welcome aboard.
A mile from the coast, we spot a gap in the muddy banks.
I think there, where those boats are moored Yes.
.
.
that must be the entrance to the Portsmouth and Arundale Canal.
Oh.
What there is left of it.
Down there.
Lord, Lord! Just a trickle.
Very sad.
Today, remnants of this lost waterway still haunt the landscape along its former path.
The canal is not completely gone.
Perhaps one day, just like the Wey and Arun Canal, the Portsmouth and Arundale will also be brought back to life.
So, wheres the sea? Right in front of us.
Are we nearly there? Yes, we are very nearly there.
Dashwoods approach to the Channel was much like our own.
He writes The appearance of the river now showed us we were evidently approaching the sea.
Its great width and the number of small craft of every description dotted about presented a very animated appearance.
No more locks to open, no more aggravating gates to pass.
A sense of freedom and rest stole over us as we bounded merrily over the waves.
Weâve made it! Yup.
Thatâs it.
Wow.
English Channel.
So, lost route to the sea, but we found it.
Its been quite a historic journey for me.
I mean, through darkest Surrey, where I was born, and then to the coast.
Its been a wonderful voyage into the past, from our own distant memories to lost canals and forgotten canal writers.
But we're back in the present now and that looks rather wonderful, too.
So, Mr and Mrs Dashwood came down here and moored .
.
and went to the pub, I suppose.
Well, its a thought.
Next week, the Grand Union from Birmingham, the city of 1,000 trades.
Its the Venice of the North, really.
We journey with our loved ones .
.
through the great arteries of the Industrial Revolution This is the nastiest tunnel that Iâve ever experienced! .
.
to the spiritual heart of the canal network.
Thatâs the way to travel.
For me, it doesnât get better than this.