E.C.S.A.F.C v Bembridge
Cowes Sports v Fawley
Original plan for today was a south west jaunt, but the forecast storms weren't a good omen for games or travel down there, but a quick scan of football traveller revealed that a three game option was available in the Welsh Valleys (Treharris Athetic Western Reserves, Merthyr Town, Barry Town United Chuckle or whatever they are called these days), or a number of 1200 kick offs in the Isle of Wight League, with Cowes or Newport in the Wessex afterwards.
Having had two Welsh trips this week, a maritime adventure was instead chosen for today. This would also mean I could finally tick off hovercraft as a mode of transport used to get to football.
An early start to get pubs in before the first kick off, with the 0611 off Swindon.
Instead of the usual route via Basingstoke and Eastleigh, the journey planner threw up a Guildford option as fastest, so at Reading it was a blurred 0704 Redhill.
An early arrival into Guildford meant a bonus move of the 0753 all shacks to Hazelmere.
Hazelmere is a new station for me, and was only a short wait for the 0821 Pompey service.
Football grounds visible from trains; Moneyfields (Wessex League, formerly Portsmouth Civil Service)…..
….Fratton Park….
….Victory Stadium (United Services Portsmouth, Wessex League).
Portsmouth Harbour station is half built on a pier, so you can see the sea trough the gaps in the planking on the platform.
It combines its train station role with being the ferry terminus from the Isle of Wight.
Adjacent is Portsmouth Historic Dockyard which is home to; the Gosport Ferry....
...HMS Warrior (the first iron-hulled warship)....
....and the Victory.
Gunwharf Quay is a large harbourside retail development that was built for the residents of Paulsgrove to develop their shop lifting technique before they go professional in Oxford Street. It contains the Spinnaker Tower. This was Portsmouth millennium project and stayed faithful to the careful rules of such schemes in that it didn't open until 2005, went hugely over budget, and now no one knows what to do with it.
With its strong naval tradition, Pompey (so called because of its dormant volcano) also has a strong tradition of borderline alcoholism, so there was no problem finding a pub with early opening. However, instead of old sea dogs enjoying a Captain Morgan in the Docker's Fist, instead it was a Fullers pub in a shopping centre.
Next stop off on the way to the Hoverport was the Pembroke which was due to open at 1000 but didn't show any sign of life. I was joined on the doorstep by a CAMRA crank. Eventually, there were signs of life with a dog barking and lights coming on, but the door remained bolted. My companion proudly showed me pro-forma letters he has for such occasions. "Dear local CAMRA branch. I was visiting pubs in your area and was dismayed to find that the following pub did not meet standards due to being closed/substandard beer/rude staff". With still no sign of opening, a peer through the window saw a barmaid resolutely avoiding eye contact and the only sticks visible were Bass and Greene King IPA. So he could use all three reasons. At 1015 I gave up and headed for the Hoverport.
The wander along the shoreside with a Portsmouth bound Catermaran passing the car ferry for Fishbourne.
The Hoverport is very different to its portrayal in the Jetsons, being a bungalow tacked onto an amusement arcade with a Wimpy.
However, the signs did not look good and sure enough, the service had been suspended. Enquiring as to when it might start again, rather than a time, I was told 'when we are down to gale force 8' and a lecture on a crash in 1972.
Undeterred, I headed back into town for the next fast ferry over. This wasn't for another 45 minutes, which meant I had time to divert via the town centre Brewhouse for a house Sexton.
This was adjacent to Portsmouth and Southsea station, so it was a quick hop down to the harbour, actually on a Great Western service, this being the tail end of the endurance service from Cardiff to Portsmouth.
So back to Portsmouth Harbour, two hours later than before.
Before long, I was on the catamaran Wight Rider II (which sounds like a racial supremacist porn star), off to Ryde Pier Head. The 20 minute journey was spent at 45 degrees to horizontal, one way or another.
Because the north shores of the eastern end of the Isle of Wight are shallow sand bars, it necessitates a long pier out from Ryde itself. This is why it is an ideal hovercraft route as they can skip over the sand right up to the town. Anyway, after an eternity trying to dock, we were finally onto the pier head.
The railway runs along the pier to the terminal. The Island Line is part of the National Rail network and is run by South West Trains. However, due to very limited clearance in one of the tunnels, it operates using old London Underground tube stock. And when I say old, I mean 1938 vintage. Notice the whistle.
Inside, the interiors are still as they were for the underground. Picture taken in limited clearance tunnel.
My destination was the third station in Ryde, after Pier Head and Esplanade, St Johns Road in the South East suburbs. But what a treat was in store. Our set was being taken out of traffic so anyone going forward to stations to Shanklin was transferring over a new train. Because there was already a train in the northbound platform, the new train was going from the mythical platform 3.
This is one of the rarest to have platforms on the UK network as no trains start from here. I contemplated getting it in but the next station, Smallbrook junction, is a private one for the steam railway. I once got trapped at the station whilst trying to get to the Isle of Wight Chilli Festival at the adjacent Smallbrook Stadium, former home of Wessex League Ryde Sports.
The newest vehicle in the Isle of White fleet by about 80 years.
Destination was the Railway Inn, over the road from the station. It was shown as 1200 opening, but when I turned up it was resolutely closed; door shut, curtains drawn, lights off.
The key feature listed in the guide was a Ginkgo Biloba tree in the garden, which was slightly underwhelming in the winter. The fruit from these trees are made into Benzo Fury or something like that.
Giving the Railway up as another bad job, my next move was to the Ryde Farmers Market. This consisted of three stalls outside a co-op, selling fish, eggs but redeemingly, the Isle of Wight Cheese company. A Gallybagger and an Isle of Wight Blue (probably what Wight Rider II stars in) were had.
Next move was out to the Simeon Arms, which tried so hard to be unassuming, I managed to walk straight past it. Inside it was a real gem, with lots of Island brews on.
My choice was a Goddards - Island Ale.
Back along the seafront to get the bus with the hovercraft dormant at their landing stage, and despite a hellishly choppy sea, Portsmouth and the Spinnaker tower clearly visible across the Solent.
Next stop was Ryde bus station….
… for Bus 4 which took me along the northern perimeter of the Island (notice the carpeted ceiling, a new thing for me on a bus)….
…before dropping me at Whippingham Forge.
From here, a walk along a country lane took me to the GKN sports ground.
ECS FC v Bembridge. Isle of Wight League, Division 1 (Match abandoned due to injury)
GKN are the largest employer on the island and the sports ground is adjacent to the factory. It was the former British Hovercraft Corporation works but is now a carbon fibre specialist.
Not much out there about Bembridge.
I have been here before, to see the adjacent East Cowes Victoria Athletic, however, the ground has moved as a car park has been built on it. The new ground is behind the works and has involved a lot of levelling, as it is on a terrace as you approach.
The main works are like a prison behind the pitches.
In the corner is a pleasant little pavilion shared with the cricket club.
The pitch gives great views over the Medina estuary that runs down from Cowes.
You will notice that none of the pictures show any actual football, just players warming up. This was because soon into the game, one of the players broke their leg or ankle. An ambulance was called and eventually the game was called off. I bid a hasty treat next door to East Cowes Vics.
Their first team were away in the Wessex League 1, but the reserves had their game called off so were training.
This meant the clubhouse was open which was warm, and showing the Man City v Leicester game, so I didn't end up going back to the game I was meant to be watching.
I thought about joining the weekend TV thread but couldn't think up enough irrelevant wank about formations, refereeing decisions and commentators, whilst arguing about a non-probable scenario and hinting that I may actually be going to a game in three months time. The closest I got was "with city playing the inverted Christmas tree, that should never have been a corner, despite what Liverpool loving Alan Green may think. City would be foolish if they actually chose Brian Horton to come back to replace Pellegrini, it would ruin the Emirates Cup games I've got tickets for". I know, it has a glaring error in missing references to fantasy football and prediction leagues.
The ground is miles out of the town so it was a right hike to get to my next move, which was this.
The chain ferry/floating bridge connect East and West Cowes. East is where the locals live, west is where city traders called Giles have holiday flats.
After a quick D-day boarding...
…past the East Cowes – Southampton car ferry...
...we were soon in to upturned collar territory.
Electricity substations needlessly built across pavements when there was loads of space to build it out of the way - #1 in a series of probably not that many.
Before heading to the main game, there was time to get another pub in, this time the excellent Kingston Arms.
Inside was like someone's front room, but was good for both a Goddard's - Fuggle Dee Dum, and a Yates - Golden.
Soon it was time to head for the main event (time being about 1525). The ground has some of the least prolific signage in non-league...
....and the ground is then hidden at the end of a cul-de-sac.
Cowes Sports 1 v Fawley 2, Sydenhams Wessex League Premier,
Cowes Sports have been around in one form or another since the 19th century. They spen most of the last in the Hampshire league, before promotion to the Wessex in the early nineties.
Fawley is where people who like the smell of petrol live. They were the Esso works team, and were in the lower reaches of the Hampshire league before joining the Wessex in 2005.
This game was 5th v 17th.
I got there in time to see a couple of goals that made it 1-1.
However, it was soon half time and what started as solemn news in the bar, was tempered by them having Theakstons Dark Mild on, which most people seemed to be drinking.
Westwood Park is named after Radio 1s hip-hop big dog Tim. It has been home to Cowes for over a 100 years, and boasts an ancient large stand with a low cover next to it.
Yet more token attempts at floodlight collision protection.
These dug outs are right beauties and have to win the award for the thing of least architectural merit anywhere, ever.
Non league needlessly complicated drain pipe of the season, which emptied straight into a neighbours garden.
Fawley had an extremely short goalkeeper. Not Steve Death or Jannette Krank short, but certainly not over 5'8".
All too soon the game was over, finishing 1-2. Another couple of pubs to clear. First the Anchor, which I forgot to get a photo of but had a Twickenham – Naked Ladies, then the luvvy Union for a Fullers – Olivers Island.
And on to my final nautical move of the day, the Red Jet catamaran from West Cowes to Southampton Town Quay.
Follow your boat.
Soon I was being welcomed on to Red Jet 4.
And we were on our way to Southampton.
By now it was time to crack on with the cheese from earlier. The blue was ace. I wasn’t fussed on the Gallybaggan.
In to Southampton Town Quay.
On to the connecting bus to the station.
This missed a cross country service to Reading by a minute, so I got a South West Trains service to Basingstoke, which missed the Reading stopper by a minute, the next cross country then missed a Swindon service at Reading by a minute. Overhead wire problems in London meant no trains were now running, so I had an hour to wait for the next train, and spent it watching middle aged men who had been out to watch the rugby, falling over a lot.
