For any newcomers considering next Thursday evening. TRENT CHALLENGE 2013: STAGE SEVEN, BRANSTON TO BURTON-ON-TRENT Date: Tuesday 11TH June, 2013. Meeting at Newton Road Recreation Ground car park, Burton-on-Trent. A summer afternoon not long after we moved into Burton, in the, ahem!, late sixties. Flowers are blooming, trees are leafing, birds singing. All well? Not quite. The River Trent slithers and oozes its way past Stapenhill. We are near the giant stone swan, not far from where the new concrete road bridge will be. There is a repellent scum over large areas of the water, with twigs, leaves and other floaty things. There is a smell, not the Trent scent we have come to love, well, tolerate. This stink reeks of sinister things upriver, chemicals we darent even think about, coming out of fields, factories, foul hovels. I was a keen swimmer, then as now, but I would not even dream of dipping or dangling a foot or a digit in the dirty mess. The fish agree, but they have no choice. They frowst under willows, flop listlessly in the shallows, or languish lifeless on liquid mud. Of course, it couldnt have been as bad as that all the time; otherwise the fish would not have grown large enough to be as interesting in Death as they were that day. The pollution incidents were not ever present but they were frequent enough for fish slaughter and stink not to be a rare occurrence. So, once put off, I stayed put off. Another spring day, a year ago, I crept across the Washlands near Burton Tesco, walked upstream till nobody was about, stripped, found a shingly beachette and waded in. I tried to forget about the dying fish of long ago, bobbed down and swam and it was bliss, cold bliss, but bliss. Swans pottered around, a heron kept up her lifelong wait for fish and shags scootled back and forth, all indicators of a living river. So when the idea of a swim down long sections of the Trent was mooted, I eagerly volunteered. The stretch through Burton was high on the wishlist of a number of locals, and on the day, quite a number assembled on Newton Road Rec on a lovely warm evening. The proposed landing site was inspected and passed. Two nearby anglers opined that we were mad. We have become used to this stock response, which more and more confirms our perfect mental heath. The anglers also said there would be no disturbance to their fishing, since the fish took no notice of the regular canoes hereabouts, and would treat us swimmers with the same disdain. A refreshing change from the fishermen who claim that our presence disturbs their sport, from which we are forced to conclude that these are not much good at catching fish and are looking for something or somebody to blame. Some minutes later, after another semi naked car ride, we duck under willow branches and down the wooden steps into the Trent outside the Riverside Inn. The river enfolds us again and we drift downwards, past the outfall of the defunct power station, just an inconspicuous stream now, not fed by the runoff from the towers. Ribbon weeds greet us and we make an accommodation with them in the shallow parts. It isnt easy to spot where the best current is running. If too fast and disturbances on the surface , that can also mean too shallow, and difficult swimming. The flow is generally stronger on the outside of bends, but not always. On certain stretches the insides of bends are slower and more reedy. Swan families tend to nest here so we wimp by on the other side. Other diversions here are the clonk of bad golf shots up the left bank at Branston Golf Club, the odd canoeist, a jet ski towing a skier; these stop for a chat. Everybody seems supportive around here. Our revered leader has managed to get the rowing club onside, and told her we could even get out at their landing stage. She declined because our finish zone is not too far from The Sump pub, so called because it is at the lowest point along the Trent before it enters Derbyshire. So other river users are being more than obliging; what a pleasant change from the hassles we get elsewhere. A landmark, on the right, Drakelow Hall, ancestral seat of the Gresley family, among whom was Sir Nigel Gresley, designer of the A4 Pacific railway locomotives. One bears his name, and another holds the world record for a steam train, Mallard. All that is left now is the foundations and layout of the gardens. Another landmark, very welcome since we can feel lost in the twists of the river; high objects help; the lower landmarks are obscured by the banks, which are often high and steep. Its what we call the Leicester line bridge. It no longer leads to Leicester, alas. An earlier generation of politicians told us railways were a thing of the past. The current bunch of half-wits propose to spend billions on a new one. Push such unpleasant thoughts aside, and enjoy the river. The next stretch, to the Ferry Bridge, is broad and shallow, so its more gravel and lots more ribbon weed. On one side a fifties council estate but a good grass frontage. On the other the Burton Washlands, including the Ox Hay, where rugby is played except when the pitches are deep under Trent overspill water. The river doesnt quite know where to go to cross this flat expanse, divides into two main arms, with subsidiary backwaters. The left arms means dykes, mud and duck weed, so we go right. Help! Countless swans confront us. What to do? But help is there, in the shape of swim supporters on the right, cunningly decoying the swans away from us by throwing tit bits, brought along specially for the purpose. And we float past the splendid Stapenhill Gardens, deep water, calm, apart from the ceaseless roar of cars on the parallel road. On to Burton Bridge, last of several on the site. Burton, as an important crossing point, generated many skirmishes and two notable battles. Edward II, Longshanks, sneaked across at Walton and drove the Earl of Lancaster away from Burton and Tutbury Castle, and 300 years or more later the Royalists charged across the bridge and temporarily defeated the defending Roundheads. We sailed serenely past, our only threat a Hereford bull, who thought about goring us, and didnt. The echo under the bridge passed the test we gave it, and with a few hundred metres to go, an incident. A lady near the front complained that something big was brushing against her leg, and seconds later an angler nearby pulled out a half grown pike. She was relieved and he was delighted, and a swim supporter photographed his triumph. We suspected that he may later have eaten it, but who can say for certain? And so to the end, a muddy scramble, smooth turf, bacon and cheese oatcakes, and a pleasant hour in the garden of The Sump, overlooking a tired weir, carrying water past the flour mill. No way through for us, so what next? Appendix. Access to start. SK228209 The Riverside Hotel is at Branston, Burton-on-Trent. Suggested route: From North or South, leave A38 at motorway style junction South of Burton.Follow A5121 towards Burton and turn right at first lights. Follow Main Street. Immediately after going over the rail bridge, turn sharp right into Warren Lane, and then 2nd left to Riverside Inn. Its best to use the car park to the right of the pub. Entry to water is to the right of the pub, through the garden and down wooden steps to a small stream close to the river. Exit and Route to Newton Road Recreation Ground car park and the The Sump (pub). Car park SK 259236 (Satnav Sump post code and car park is on the right a short distance back towards Burton) The Sump pub SK260237 or DE15 0TT About 400 metres downstream of Trent Bridge (road )keep close to the right bank and watch for the level of the bank dropping. Short step up to smooth turf, but unfortunately through deep smelly mud. Other exits lower down are OK, used by canoes. It is best to have parked the car in the outside section, still off road, to avoid the risk of being locked in if the swim ends after 9 pm. The Sump is a few hundred metres left along Newton Road. Distance: 5.5 km Time: about 1 and a half hours
Posted on: Fri, 04 Jul 2014 16:48:10 +0000
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