It's Not New and It's Not a River:A Walk Along the New River.

Crayfish! I'd been worried that my tenth London by Foot walk would be a bit dull in comparison to others. I'd also been concerned that the weather may not be great and that people might not show up.

So when the sun came out, six lovely people rocked up in Palmers Green, and we'd seen a crayfish within the first half hour I felt pretty pleased. I'm not saying that the many crayfish (including one bionic one) we encountered en route, or even the heron, was the best thing of the day (that's the company, it's always the company) but they certainly gave the whole experience something unique. I'd certainly never seen a live crayfish before.

It's Not New And It's Not A River:A Walk Along The New River commenced, for some of us, at 11am in Morrisons Cafe. The glitz. The glamour. To the soundtrack of Alvin and The Chipmunks and The Cure (an eclectic mix for sure) Pam, Shep, and myself tucked into mega cheap veggie breakfasts (£3.80) and cups of tea. A good start to the day only slightly undone by the lady who vacated the toilet I was hoping to use with a curt "I'd leave it five minutes if I were you".

Michelle and Marianne had been intending to join us for brunch but instead had done a 5K park run - in Finsbury Park - where we were heading later! Dena was running a bit late but it wasn't long before we headed out of Palmers Green, on Green Lanes (not for the last time of the day, it's a long road), turned past an architecturally pleasing library and down a set of stairs to the New River Path.

Palmers Green has the largest population of Greek Cypriots outside of Cyprus. They even call it Palmers Greek or Little Cyprus. One non-Cypriot resident of note was Joe Strummer of The Clash.

We nearly lost one of our walkers before we'd even left Palmers Greek! Michelle was cramping up following that park run and wasn't sure she'd be able to carry on. Shep pulled a packet of Feminax out of his pocket (!) and that seemed to, for the most part, ease the pain and Michelle carried on with us with just the occasional moment of doubt. A phone message from her daughter, Evie, saying "you can do it, mummy" as inspirational as the Feminax was medicinal no doubt.

Not everyone in the borough of Enfield is so happy as 'Fuck U' and 'no smiling' graffiti testifies. Perhaps they'd experienced the pubs of Enfield as we did back on the London LOOP last December! The New River path, once you get past the graffiti and discarded lager cans, provides a much more pleasant aspect.

The joke about the New River not being new or a river is said to be as old as the waterway itself - but that can't be true - because the joke wouldn't have worked when the 'river' actually was new. Pedantry aside, the history of it is that it's an artificial waterway that opened in 1613 to provide fresh drinking water, taken from the Lea, to London. Which it still does. The water is very clear and has been found to be London's purest!

It runs twenty miles from Hertfordshire to the reservoirs near Finsbury Park which we'd eventually reach. In 1602, Edmund Colthurst (a landowner who inherited Bath Abbey) obtained a charter from James I (James VI of Scotland) to build it but it was Hugh Myddleton who most credit with construction. There are streets along the route named for him.

Myddleton was a Welsh cloth maker, goldsmith, banker, and engineer. There's a statue of him on Islington Green (which we'd not be seeing on this walk). In 1619 (so happy 400th birthday) the New River Company was founded and it became a penal offense to throw rubbish or carrion in the river. Washing clothes or planting willows or elm trees within five yards of its banks would incur the 'king's displeasure' - which makes it sound worth doing.

The husband of the poet Anna Laetitia Barbauld, Rochemont Barbauld - a minister of the Newington Green Unitarian Church, is said to have gone violently insane, attacked his wife, and drowned himself in the river and in Charles Lamb's 1823 collection, Essays of Elia, he talks of a friend who walked into the river by accident, possibly the blind poet George Dyer, who then 'disappeared'.

We were fortunate to not witness any drownings. Instead we admired the beautifully coloured leaves hanging in the autumn sun, Michelle spotted a large rat outside some kind of ranch that had a Santa AND a 666 on the front door, before spotting our first crayfish. Living nearer to the countryside has given this girl an eye for the wildlife.

We observed the crayfish for a while, as we did the geese, and we crossed Pymmes Brook, a minor tributary of the Lea that has come from Monken Hadley before running beneath the New River and joining the Lea at Tottenham Lock. Occasionally crossing roads and observing some local youth looking suspicious, we followed a brief diversion on the roads of an estate as the river dipped underground, looked at herons, mushrooms, and model dinosaurs in a kid's playground, and also stopped to admire a stone clad church.

From there we crossed the railway lines (bridge surprisingly, and remarkably, free of graffiti) into the grounds of Alexandra Park. I've seen both Franz Ferdinand and LCD Soundsystem at Ally Pally. You may well have been to a gig there too. It's a fairly steep walk up to the top but the views are worth it.

Alexandra Park is laid out on the site of Tottenham Wood and named after Alexandra of Denmark who, in 1863, married the Prince of Wales, later Edward VII (reign:1901-1910). They used to have deer and horse racing in the park but now a lake of waterfowl is as good as you get. Which, for Shep, is very good.

Alexandra Palace was opened in 1875 and the architects behind it were Owen Jones (who'd helped Joseph Paxton with Crystal Palace), John Johnson (Church of St Edward the Confessor, Romford), and Alfred Meeson who helped Charles Barry with the Houses of Parliament. It was intended as a north London counterpart to the Crystal Palace and was conceived as 'the Palace of the People' by Owen Jones.

It was where the first regular high definition television service was broadcast, by the BBC, in 1936 and has also been home to the Great British Beer Festival (1977-1980), the Brits (1993-1995), the PCC World Darts Championship (2008 onwards), and Masters Snooker (2012 onwards). April 1967 saw the Technicolour Dream with Pink Floyd, Soft Machine, and The Crazy World of Arthur Brown and in January 1985 the Sinclair C5 was launched here. I'd not want to go down the hill on one.

It was also home to the Dutch team during the 2012 Olympics. A team that went on to win six golds in swimming, sailing, field hockey, gymnastics, and, most memorably, cycling for Marianne Vos. We took in the panoramic views (as far as Crystal Palace neatly enough) and slowly descended, feeling better for the mountain air! Or was that just me?

Past what looked like a stegosaurus or an ankylosaurus in a playground, briefly through a housing estate, and back to another, barely used, section of the New River Path. I think we saw as many dogs as people.

We eventually came out, not exactly where I'd expected, near the top of Harringay Passage so I realised a life long dream and walked down it. It's over a mile long and, truth be told, there's not much to see. I thought it might be a haven of illegal drinking dens and shebeens or reminiscent of a souk. Or perhaps the streets would be lined with clowns, musicians, and street entertainers of every stripe. Alas not. It was a long, not unpleasant yet not eventful, walk to the end. Still, done it now.

It was thirsty work and at the end people were ready for a pub stop so after a brief visit to Finsbury Park (which the New River flows through and in which we ended up walking a path that Michelle and Marianne had run on just that morning) we finally made that pub stop.

The Finsbury was a nice pub. Apparently a lot better than it used to be. I only managed one drink but some of my thirstier walkers got a couple down. It was good to see everyone getting along but I had to crack the whip and insist we moved on. Firm but fair, that's me!

I'm really not that firm at all. The next stretch looped round back to almost where we'd come from but it was possibly the most glorious. Fulgid and fetching rays of sun poked through the trees and we saw a young lad lobbing a crayfish back in the river. Chimneys and art spaces laid out before us on the far bank, mud beneath our feet on our bank. But, despite the legend KISS MY ARSE decorating a bridge, it was somewhat beautiful.

After we'd crossed Seven Sisters Road we reached the reservoirs where the New River once ended (there's a brief extenstion now). Constructed in 1833, the West Reservoir is now a leisure facility for sailing, yachting, and canoeing and the East River seems to have been given over to wildlife.

It's very beautiful and hard to imagine you're essentially in Finsbury Park. The new tower blocks being built for the super rich are clearly desirable residencies and will be clearly out of the price range of relative paupers like us. Still, good to have a nose. There's a fantastic climbing centre (which we'd spied from Clissold Park on one of our cemetery walks) in a converted pumping station that was designed in a castellated style by Robert Billings under the supervision of William Chadwell Mylne (Blackfriars Bridge, the first one, and beaten to the design of the Clifton Suspension Bridge by Isambard Kingdom Brunel) between 1854 and 1856.

After that and some brief fannying around near some water sculptures it was time for another pit stop. For some reason we sat outside in the Brownswood where we discussed the relative merits of Discos and Feminax, it was that kind of day, before setting off again through Clissold Park and down a road full of wonderful Grand Designs type houses. It was getting dark so the photos may not do them justice.

When we reached Newington Green it was all over bar the shouting. We stopped again in the Lady Mildmay pub where Michelle generously provided bread, dips, and pimientos de padron (yes) and Dena managed to resist temptation so she shouldn't spoil her appetite for later. Here, Marianne's husband Chris joined us and, after a drink, we followed the darkened last piece of the New River Path down to Upper Street. Studiously ignoring a large packet of gelatine!

Newington Green, which straddles the boroughs of Islington and Hackney, is where, in the 17c, Samuel Pepys was sent by his mum for fresh air. In the 16c, Henry VIII hunted bulls, stags and boar in the area when it was still a forest. Sir Walter Mildway was Elizabeth I's chancellor (he also founded Emmanuel College in Cambridge) and his grandson Henry Mildmay was an MP and Charles I's Master of the Jewel House.

The pub is, of course, named after the Mildmay family. Henry Mildmay disagreed with the king's religious policies and supported Cromwell in the Civil War so after the Restoration he was, of course, arrested for his part in regicide. Surprisingly spared the death penalty he was sent to the Tower of London and imprisoned for life. During the 17c the area became home of the English Dissenters movement. It was just an agricultural village at the time.

I was hoping to treat my fellow walkers to a brief tour of Canonbury (the Estorick Collection, Basil Spence's house, The Compton Arms or Canonbury Tavern - maybe some history on George Orwell, Evelyn Waugh, Duncan Grant, Vanessa Bell, Dido, Barbra Castle, Spider Stacey, Cate Blanchett, Keira Knightley, Stella Rimington, and other Canonbury residents of yore) but time was against us. It was dark and people were getting hungry.

Upper Street on Saturday night is for couples or people who have booked so, once Michelle, Marianne, and Chris had hopped on a bus home, the four remaining LbFers made our way on to Holloway Road for a perfectly decent curry and a couple of Cobras in the Standard Tandoori. Dena departed and Shep, Pam, and I moved on to The Famous Cock Tavern and we all agreed that it'd been another successful day out.

I was relieved, I still, somehow, felt full of energy, and I was touched by how beautiful London can be if you look at it the right way. I was even more touched by spending a day with such a wonderful group of friends. Thanks to Pam, Michelle, and Shep for the photos and thanks to all for coming. LbF will return between Xmas and New Year with a William Blake walk on Saturday December 28th but before that there's the small matter of rounding out the TADS season on November 2nd south of the river. Last year it got messy.