Saturday 13 February 2021

The Cambridge Map Project Episode 2: C6, Trinity Conduit Head and Eddington (slight return)

 

Preamble

The random number generator selected square C6. Once again out to the edges of West Cambridge, this time to the North and a bit West of the previous walk. The square was bisected horizontally by Madingley Road. To the South the area known as ‘High Cross’ is shown as containing a British Antarctic Survey building, a laboratory and the University School of Veterinary Medicine. To the North mostly fields, belonging to the University Farm and criss-crossed with drains.

But it was the body of water depicted on the Eastern edge of these fields, located between two streets, that caught my imagination.  The map indicated this was  the site of ‘Trinity Conduit Head’, and one of the streets also bore its name. The other street being Landsdowne Road. These streets and the conduit head were places I'd never heard of and completely off of my mental map.

 

Amble

I walked from home, via Newtown, Fen Causeway and Queens Road (‘The Backs’). Then the length of Madingley Road towards the boundary of square C6 and Conduit Head Road just beyond. Well before this boundary, I passed the turning into Storeys Way, a place I will always associate with Thursday afternoon visits to the dentist (that was my Dads half day). Back then the six-monthly interval between appointments seemed a long time, as did the time spent in the dentists waiting room before being called to the chair. If ever I pass this turning, which has been a rare event ever since, the feeling of nervousness and mild fear I used to get as we approached it return briefly, along with a vision and smell of the dentists waiting room. Its antique mustiness mixed with the aroma of disinfectant and red mouthwash re-emerge in my mind. For a fraction of a second I’m back amongst the dark brown antique furniture, adverts for Dunhill cigarettes on the back of high-end magazines and a framed drawing hung on one of the walls depicting the face of a youthful looking but very hirsute man. His hair took up most of the picture (no beard). I recall my mum telling me the hair was a punishment for taking up smoking, as if the picture was designed to warn of the dangers of tobacco along with an inbuilt assumption that smoking makes your hair grow uncontrollably to the point of a social leprosy. I believed her at the time, although it was only a few years later I had developed my own fairly impressive barnet and enthusiastically taken up smoking. By then I had forgotten any real or imagined connection between the two. The Storeys Way dentist had retired by then so I had no cause to visit the area anymore.

Churchill College grounds on one side of the road and large houses on the other soon gave way to the University’s West Cambridge Site. Once I had passed Madingley Rise, which makes up a bit of this on the North side, I had crossed into square C6 and reached Conduit Head Road.

There was no sign of life as I headed down Conduit Head Road towards where I hoped I might find access to the body of water I imagined was the location of the Conduit Head. The street had a very neighbourhood watch, almost private feel, large houses and an extensive woody looking area on the left side. I felt self-conscious, although I saw no one.  I didn’t take any photographs because of this, feeling that I ought to appear to be moving with purpose to avoid any misconception that I was a suspicious character. The sense of this was heightened due to the lockdown. My reasonable excuse for being out was for exercise which is not something done standing still. I felt like to loiter would be to risk unwanted attention in this street even in normal times. This feeling also prevented me from carrying on where a branch of the street took a turn left where it was marked as a private road and pointed towards the direction of the water shown on the map. Carrying on past this turning, I soon reached a dead end and was forced to turn back onto Madingley Road.

I turned into Landsdowne Road, where a sign warned no access was available to the North West Cambridge Development. In the hope that it was just there to deter construction traffic and that a throughway to the conduit head might be available to the pedestrian I carried on.  The large houses that lined each side of the road were undoubtedly occupied by people in lockdown, but there was no sign of life from within or on the street itself. The neighbourhood watch feel was tangible. The footpath was green with large patches of well-established moss and small weeds, indicating it was seldom used for pedestrian activity.

Again, I felt the need to walk with purpose and to give the impression I knew exactly where I was going. Evenso, to anyone observing it would probably have been obvious I didn’t. I soon reached the end of the road, where instead of the through road or pathway hoped for, was instead a driveway leading to a large modern dwelling named Illyria.

I conceded that if the conduit head still existed, it was inaccessible from both streets but maybe I would find another route if I carried further along and arched back, after exploring the remaining part of the square North of High Cross.

Back on Madingely Road, on the other side a road sign gave a skeleton explanation of the surroundings. To the South is High Cross which is an area now much built up since its depiction in the 1980 map, with additional University related development. To the North, the Park and Ride site and the Eddington development with its superstore (Sainsburys). To the West the road carries on across the M11 and soon after this it crosses the city boundary in the direction of Bedford.

High Cross, Cambridge, Madingley Road, Psychogeography, Lockdownwalks

Just beyond the sign, a large tent like structure reminded me of the millennium dome. Later research revealed this to be the Schlumberger Gould Research Centre where research into oil drilling is carried out. The building, known as ‘The Tent, dates from 1980.  A few years ago, was given grade 2 listed status. If I had known these facts, I don’t think it would have altered the feeling that I was walking past an almost alien construction, resembling something from a 1980s science fiction TV programme. The overarching lockdown atmosphere only enhanced this feeling. Maybe the building had been used as a a set in a 1980s TV programme, I’d seen the programme at the time and these thoughts were looping back from a dormant memory as I walked past.

Madingy Road, High Cross, Schulumberger Research Centre, Cambridge, UK

I decided I would not cross to the South side of the road for now, and possibly leave it for a future walk should the random number generator pick this square again. I was more intent on making sure I had covered all avenues that might lead to the conduit head and that would mean sticking North of Madingley Road.

I decided to keep going to the M11, where the map showed what looked like a large telecommunications tower and where I wondered if a path of some kind would loop back through Eddington. Beyond the entrance to the Park and Ride, a new development, the previously mentioned 'North West Cambridge' was in its early stages. Fencing and CCTV was up, and the site entrance had a sentry box (unoccupied when I passed but it was a Sunday).

Psychogeography, Cambridge, Eddington, North West Cambridge, Lockdownwalks

At the entrnce to the site the ‘project charter’ was displayed as part of a large panel hoarding. This was a tract largely made up of the sort of language you normally see in internal management documents designed to motivate staff or in company annual reports. It spoke of ‘our vision, our purpose, our values’ and was peppered with phrases like ‘can do culture’, ‘stakeholder’, ‘positive attitude’, ‘targets’ and ‘delivering’. This reminded me of going to a pub once where a notice proudly displayed the values and objectives of the management using similar jargon. I felt then that this had no place on display to the general public, for whom the main objective when visiting the pub was to escape from any thoughts of work, personal development plans and staff appraisals. When out walking, free of the imposition of any sort of formal objective, purpose or vision of any kind for the duration of the perambulation at least, a temporary escape from these things ought to be possible. Alas, it seems corporate jargon and work-speak is no longer confined to the realm of the workplace or in communications to 'stakeholders', where it is irritating enough. It has been allowed to permeate into the public sphere, intruding on space used for respite and leisure.


One hint the charter did give about the development was that it would be ‘centred around a mixed academic and urban community’. I wondered what this meant. Were the academics obliged to be urban, or was this a new way of saying ‘town and gown’ and referring to a mixed community where professors would rub shoulders with the hoi polloi? Was anybody who considered themselves ‘rural’ to be shunned? I came to the conclusion the phrase was probably meaningless marketing speak and that the development appeared to really be an extension of Eddington.

I reached the M11 bridge, where I passed a surprising number of people walking in the opposite direction. The communications mast from the 1980 map was nowhere to be seen Instead there was a modern lamppost type grey mobile phone mast which was less impressive than what I had been expecting. There was also no way through to loop back to Eddington so I had to double back to the park and ride.

The park and ride site was desolate. I saw two other people walking across, a handful of parked cars and a bus with the driver waiting, possibly in vain, for any passengers. The building at the centre, which may or may not have had facilities (loo, vending machine etc) was devoid of people. I decided not to investigate further to avoid looking conspicuous.

Park and Ride, Eddington, Cambridge, Psychogeography, Lockdownwalking

I approached Eddington, which from this angle appeared unchanged since my last visit. A crane was up in the foreground and development was still taking place. In the background, a mysterious black tower loomed up from behind one of the blocks of flats.  The scene still reminded of the film ‘Panel Story’ as it did on my last visit, but this time with shades of ‘The Black Tower’ mixed in.  But passing a hoarding for some new “beautiful” and “spacious” five + bedroom l houses yet to be built, the comparison with 70s Czech communist housing estates was clearly only very superficial. The hoarding bore the branding ‘Athena’ and ‘The Villas’ but I guessed any connection to classical antiquity would end there and the houses would be generic 21st century, but a bit larger than normal.

I headed towards the ‘black tower’ that loomed above Eddington, wondering what it might be. Not far into the development, I soon found it. The modern looking ‘chimney’ was attached to a windowless building. Close up, it looked much less like the paranoia inducing black tower featured in the short film. I’ve since discovered is building is the ‘energy centre’ which provides heating and hot water for the homes in Eddington through a district heating network and means the homes have no need for their own boiler.

Eddington also boasts a largest rainwater recycling scheme in the UK using two purpose-built lakes linked to a sustainable drainage system. There is also an underground waste and recycling system which is designed to reduce the carbon footprint.  While I was unaware of this while I drifted through, I felt that I had experienced a shift in time and space to somewhere not quite ready to exist. Somewhere just a little way off in the future where, at least some aspects of living were a bit better than the present, but with something not quite right. It was as if the place was not quite ready to emerge from a computer-generated developers noticeboard marketing image into a less digitally enhanced reality.

As I emerged into the market square, I was suddenly confronted by the most people I’d seen all day. There was a big que for the new patisserie that had recently opened where people were emerging clutching cardboard cups of coffee. A couple of blokes were playing table tennis outside on a table provided. More people were out walking near the Storeys Field Centre and beyond into a green space, which is where I was heading to try and get around the back of the Trinity Conduit Head and see if it was accessible.

The expansive green space, and Eddington itself, are located in the ghost fields of the University Farm as depicted on the 1980 map. I followed the main path across the greenspace that headed East, which was wide enough to be dualled for pedestrians and cyclists and provided a green route into town.


After I passed a playground and sports area, both being well used, a fence separated the ‘new’ greenspace and what appeared to be the abandoned remnants of the farm. Other than the long grass, the only feature was a large dilapidated barn.

Beyond the barn, the path carried on towards town past another dilapidated building set further back, this time looking like an office or a laboratory. It emanated a sort of Blakes 7/Dr Who atmosphere while at the same time somehow a reminder that I was traversing a Sunday afternoon in the covid-era. The pandemic had felt more remote in the digital unreality of Eddington and its apparently young and healthy population. If a TV science fiction metaphor needed applying to the atmosphere there, it would instead be Logans Run rather than John Pertwee or Tom Baker. It occurred to me that I had seen nobody that looked over thirty. The dilapidated building existed outside the boundary of Eddington and was a reminder of a previous age. Maybe Peter Ustinov was inside, surrounded by cats and blissfully unaware of 21st century developments across the field.

Another path headed behind the barn. I followed it, not knowing if it was private. It headed towards a couple of houses so initially I thought it might just be a drive. But there was a possibility it led to a legitimate cut through that might lead to the conduit. I was the only one to deviate from the main path to head in this direction. The other Sunday afternoon strollers stuck to the main path, but nobody appeared to take any notice of me and I felt, inexplicably, reassuringly invisible. I passed through a sort of farmyard, before passing by the houses where I saw a small faded green plastic sign depicting the outline of a walker and the word ‘footpath’. The narrow path took me close to the dilapidated building.

The building was fenced of and festooned with ‘unsafe structure’ warning notices. It was clearly earmarked for demolition, looking too far gone for refurbishment. Carrying on I emerged at an opening with CCTV warning notices on the fence. Across the way was something called the ‘Colin Forbes Building’. I hesitated, wondering if it was permitted to continue. But I saw somebody else walking and it soon dawned on me that I had reached the area known as Madingley Rise, which contained various University related buildings but was accessible to the public. I realised that I had slipped out of square C6 slightly and overshot the location of Trinity Conduit Head as depicted in 1980. There was no other way other than to go back so I continued, in the vain hope that there might still be a way through.

A little further along a turning back West led to the entrance of Gravel Hill Farm. The sign confirmed this as the base for the North West Cambridge development, with access to staff and visitors to the office. The map showed a possible path along a tree lined route which seemed to head to the back of Conduit Head Road, but I couldn’t be certain. The notice suggested access was not permitted but it might have just been referring to vehicles. But I couldn’t be sure about this and given the current restrictions it seemed prudent not to risk it. A look on google earth was inconclusive, hindered by the remote sensing having been done when the trees in the area were in full leaf, obscuring both the path, its destination and the area where the water of Trinity Conduit Head was located on the 1980 map. I admitted defeat and headed home.


Post-amble

Wikipedia indicates that the conduit head is a stone structure dating from 1327. It was the source of the water supply for a Franciscan friary in the centre of Cambridge, which flowed along wooden pipes. Trinity College became owners of the conduit head and water supply in the 16th century and used it to supply one of their fountains. The water source is thought to have been some sort of holy well used for ritual purposes in pre-Roman times. The stone conduit head is apparently still there, in the woods behind the house that also bears its name. The current OS maps confirms the body of water is still there too.  But, like Bolton’s Pit Lake in the last walk, it is apparently on private land and inaccessible. The one preview image I have found of the stone conduit head links to the local authority website but is blocked as unsafe by my browser. Thus, sight of the trinity conduit head remains elusive, digitally as well as physically.