Scooters, sunshine, and climate at the London Wetland Centre

London Wetland Centre, Barnes

Rain was forecast. The forecasters were wrong. London offered full sunshine instead, although it also offered a 100% strike on the Underground, which made getting anywhere in the capital a struggle. I solved the problem in the only way left - by scooter. Not the sleek, electric kind that city commuters zip about on, but the old, push-me-pull-you sort that children usually abandon in the garage. Somehow, I did not fall off - alright, just the once at a traffic light on the Fulham Road - and I earned puzzled glances from policemen. They did not stop me, despite their clear wish to do so, and I did not dally. I just kept going.

The predicted walking time from where I was staying to the London Wetland Centre was two hours and fifteen minutes. The scooter cut that to one hour, which gave me the luxury of two coffees and a vast almond croissant in a café near the reserve, waiting for the gates to open at 10 a.m. A woman at the next table had a streaming cold, so I kept my distance. One never knows.

A briefing, a bargain, and an unexpected gender split

Before the day began in earnest, there was a short briefing, as I formed part of a small journalist visit, from the British Guild of Travel Writers. Ten minutes, no more, but useful. I learned that the London Wetland Centre does not own the land it occupies. Instead, it pays the landlord the symbolic licence sum of £1 each year. A peppercorn rent in the truest sense, and one that feels like a bargain when I looked around at what had been achieved.

The London Wetland Centre is a Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust (WWT) enterprise, the WWT being created in 1946 by Sir Peter Scott, son of the famed Antarctic explorer, and described by Sir David Attenborough as the patron saint of conservation. The staff explained that the reserve sees around 200 visitors a day, with more women than men coming through its gates. I found that surprising, although perhaps I should have expected it. Conservation is manifestly not a male preserve. Women seem to be leading the charge worldwide, often more attuned to the interconnectedness of ecosystems.

Wetlands and the city’s climate future

The London Wetland Centre is not just a pleasant place for a stroll, it is a working demonstration of how cities can adapt to climate change. Wetlands are natural sponges. They absorb excess rainfall, reduce flood risk, cool overheated streets, and lock away carbon in their soils. In an era of more intense downpours and hotter summers, this work is essential. London, a low-lying city threaded with rivers, needs wetlands as much as it needs housing, transport, or hospitals.

That the site was once a set of Victorian reservoirs only strengthens the point. Where industry once dominated, biodiversity now thrives. What could have been another block of flats is instead a refuge for birds, insects, plants, and people. This is urban rewilding at its most persuasive.

Otters, herons, and the rules of hides

I joined a small crowd watching the Asian small-clawed otters being fed. They seemed very well cared for, and a grey heron stood nearby, watching intently. It stole nothing, although I could sense it was tempted. Perhaps even herons have their moments of restraint.

The London Wetland Centre offers two main walking options - the West Route and the South Route. Most people head west, so being a contrarian, I took the South Route. Somehow, it felt right. Solitude can be scarce in London, and choosing the less-trod path gave me more of it.

There are several hides dotted around the reserve. I stepped into the Dulverton Hide and immediately discovered the code of silence. One does not make a noise in a hide. It is as sacred as a library, perhaps more so. Whispering encouraged, shuffling tolerated, but conversation? Out of the question.

Birds, buildings, and aircraft

I had been hoping for a kingfisher or even bittern, but neither obliged, although I was certain both were somewhere. Instead, I enjoyed coots quarrelling, a glossy ibis in the shallows, and shovelers, several wheatears, and a hobby perched on a fencepost, the sun catching its wings. Another visitor mentioned she had seen a spotted woodpecker nearby, although this brief exchange was the only friendliness I received all morning.

I greeted every fellow visitor with a cheery “Good morning.” That is what I do at my home in England’s Lake District. I expect a reply, but no chance at the London Wetland Centre. No one answered. Perhaps that is simply London.

The experience was never entirely natural. Buildings ring the Wetland Centre on all sides, a constant reminder that this is no wilderness. And overhead, the roar of jet engines was frequent. The site sits directly on the Heathrow flight path, so large aircraft passed again and again, dragging contrails across the blue. If you want a pristine experience, this is not it. But perhaps that is the point. The London Wetland Centre is proof that nature and city can coexist, even under the shadow of airports.

Accessibility and adaptation

Accessibility was clearly taken seriously. Disabled visitors could reach most areas, although not quite all. Boardwalks, ramps, and step-free hides were plentiful. A wheelchair user joined me in the Peacock Tower, scanning the horizon. It was good to see wildness designed to be inclusive. If climate change is to be properly tackled, then access to nature cannot be a privilege for the few.

Climate change and human behaviour

In one respect, the London Wetland Centre is a hopeful place. The staff and volunteers radiated commitment. Rangers adjusted sluices in waterproofs, volunteers updated sightings boards and intrigued children with toy otters, while café workers turned out tea and cakes. Conservation is often presented as a battle against climate change, but in reality, it is more about ordinary people quietly sustaining ecosystems, day after day. While politicians spout fine words, in the background, people are doing what they can to protect the environment. Some do not - shame on them - but I sense their number is shrinking.

Yet there were surprises, too. At least there were for me.

Around one blind corner, I stopped to talk with some volunteer gardeners who were busy raking grass windrows and dumping them into wheelbarrows.

“How did you cut the grass?” I asked.

“Power scythe,” one replied.

“Battery or fuel?” I queried.

“Fuel.”

“Oh,” I said, unimpressed, and went on my way. The volunteer took the hint, shrugged, hung his head, and carried on raking.

Without passing comment, I had made my point. I see no reason for using fossil-fuel-powered tools in gardening these days. Their carbon footprint is massive.

A lesson for the city

From the top of the Peacock Tower, my visit crystallised. Beyond the glittering pools and reedbeds, the city skyline jutted in steel and glass. Aircraft carved the sky. This was no wilderness, but a living argument. If a hundred acres in Barnes can absorb carbon, ease flooding, host birds, delight children, and educate visitors - all while surrounded by houses, offices, and planes - then other cities throughout the world can do the same.

Climate change can feel too large and too abstract to many. Yet the London Wetland Centre is a tangible example of a nature-based climate solution. Wetlands sequester carbon, store water, and cool overheated air. They do not solve everything, but they help. And help, in this global crisis, is not optional. Without water, wildlife vanishes, so wetlands are critical for mankind’s future.

Leaving the wetlands

I left without a kingfisher, without a bittern, although plenty of alternative sightings, and a question mark over the commitment of mankind to solve our climate-created, existential crisis.

Yet I also left with sunshine on my shoulders, the image of otters tumbling, and the knowledge that urban wetlands are among our best allies in a warming world.

Unremarkable mornings, ordinary birds, even awkward human encounters - all of it matters. What the London Wetland Centre proves is that conservation is not remote and not inaccessible. Sometimes it is in Barnes, behind a café and a scooter ride, asking us only to show up, pay attention, and recognise that the world can still be briefly, beautifully, different to ourselves. After all, mankind forms part of Nature. Nature is not here for our benefit.

If you go...

The London Wetland Centre is at Queen Elizabeth Walk, Barnes, SW13 9WT. It is inside the ULEZ, with its own car park, but on strike days your options may be creative - scooters included. Check the London Wetland Centre’s (wwt.org.uk) website for opening times, tickets, and up-to-date sightings. Bring binoculars if you have them, curiosity if you do not, and be certain to bring a camera. Step into a hide, stay five minutes longer than you intended, and look twice at the water. The city will wait. The wetlands, I feel certain, will adore your company.