Tagged: landscape
It's been pretty dismal recently, weather-wise, so when Sarah called up to say that she and Vik had just left the swimming pool at the student union building up in Clifton, and would I like to join them for a trip to the Last Bookshop, also known as The £3 Bookshop, for reasons you can probably deduce, I leapt at the chance.
Not many photos on this walk, but I did manage to get down a little road I'd never been to before, basically just the access road to a car park at a block of flats, but it was on the map looking all tempting, so I figured I'd knock it off the list as we were passing.
This was basically the quick lunchtime jaunt I tried to do at the beginning of January, only this time I actually managed to get to roughly the viewpoint I'd been hoping for to recreate a historical photo of the Bristol International Exhibition.
I did this walk about a month ago, but I've been a bit poorly and not really up to doing much in my spare time, and it's taken me this long to even face processing even these few photos. Hopefully normal service will be resumed at some point and I can carry on trying to walk any roads and paths that I need to do to make this project feel complete...
From Bristol's Lost City, by Clive Burlton, available from Bristol Books; photograph from the author's own collection.
(And extra credit goes to my parents for buying me the book for my birthday! Thanks!)
The Bristol International Exhibition site, presumably around 1914 or not long after. You can see the Rownham Ferry in use, too. I still find it pretty amazing that there used to be a busy ferry and a significant railway station on this little scrap of land that I just used to know as the grassy bit at the start of the towpath, let alone a replica of Bristol Castle!
Unlike my last attempt I successfully managed to get somewhere near the vantage point of the historic photo this time...
I should probably have tried to get it at high tide to make it a bit more comparable, but you can't have everything.
You can see the White City Allotments—those glints of light toward the middle are mostly reflections from greenhouses—where the "White City" of the Exhibition used to stand. There's still a glimpse or two of the railway line to Portishead to be seen, too, along with a vestige of the Rownham Ferry slipway.
Mostly though it's the modern things that stand out—the long line of flats along Paxton Drive, the curve of Brunel Way across the river, and the roof of Ashton Gate Stadium...
The Colonnade, the Rock House, St Vincent's Parade and the old landing stages for Campbell's paddle steamers. The leftover fruit of bygone boom years.
There's a couple on the balcony taking a selfie in this direction. I wonder if I've been immortalised as a few pixels in the background of their photo...
I think this may be the "avonmouth monster"; a plume of outflow from the works at Avonmouth. I took a photo of it some years back and asked BBC weatherman Ian Fergusson about it in the comments on this blog post—I'd recently done a tiny segment for his show "Wild Weather of the West" on how to photograph lightning—and that's what he said it was. This looks suspiciously similar and is in the right direction.
Another workday, another quick lunchtime trip to get me out of the house. This time my flimsy pretext is a tiny bit of Clifton Vale Close that I'd apparently not walked, and the fact that although I'd walked down Church Lane at least once before I still hadn't taken a single photo of it. Really I just fancied a mosey through Cliftonwood in the sunshine, with the promise of a coffee from Clifton Village at the top of the hill.
The spire of St Mary Redcliffe, just left of centre on the horizon, is about the same location as the office I work in, at least a few days a week. I took the job half on the basis of the location meaning a lovely commute down one side or other of the harbour. And then a week after I started the first Covid-19 lockdown kicked in and I didn't get to do the commute again for many months.
You have to zoom way in to see it, and know what you're looking for, but having just done that I can tell you that one of my other favourite lunchtime walk destinations is sitting down there in the little access road between the marina car park and the clock tower of the former Charles Hill offices: Imagine That, who sell coffee from their cute little converted horsebox.
I needed to buy new walking shoes—my old ones were squeaking and it was driving me up the wall—so I ordered some for collection from Taunton Leisure on East Street in Bedminster, and decided to make picking them up an official wander.
I didn't cover any new ground within my mile, but I did take advantage of the trip to take in a few interesting things just outside my normal radius, mostly New Gaol-related. Along the way there are a couple of sanitation-related diversions, including a visit to a rare manhole cover. You can hardly wait, I can tell!
That can't really be anything other than a slipway for the old ferry, can it? Especially as there are steps down there from the road, albeit overgrown to the point of invisibility and with their entrance bricked up, as we'll see when we get to the other side.
This bridge was only put up to replace the ferry in the 1930s, so it's not surprising that the ferry facilities are still pretty obvious from this side.
We have, in fact, wandered down there on a previous walk.
Presumably this was the entrance to the stairs down to the ferry, long ago bricked up. There certainly seems to be a stairway behind it, though it's hard to tell for sure...
Well, it slopes down to the riverside at the top of the slipway. I presume there are still steps under there.
Leaning over the wall, we can see the overgrown steps from the bricked up gate leading down to the start of the ramp down to the ferry crossing.
The old ferry crossing, the newer 1930s bridge that replaced it, and the shiny new flats and shops of Wapping Wharf on the far side.
Back in the days of the Bristol International Exhibition we'd have been standing about where the replica of Bristol Castle was, looking toward the Dominions Pavilion and a bandstand.
I had a lot to get done around the house, so as soon as I heard there might be a shiny new piece of street art near me, under the Cumberland Basin flyovers, I immediately decided that was all the excuse I needed to set off on a round-the-harbour lunchtime walk to get some fresh air and see if I could spot it. So, here's a circular wander that takes in graffiti, boats, wildlife and graffiti again...
There's a few tracks in Leigh Woods that lie within my mile and show up on my map but that I've not walked yet, so I decided to take one of my traditional big long walks through the woods on this nice crisp sunny morning.
For years—decades, even—I've been doing a similar route from my place, along the towpath to the far woods entrance, up the hill for a varied walk on one of the marked tracks and then across the Suspension Bridge to Clifton Village for a coffee-based reward. It's my default "long walk", really, and I almost always enjoy it. Today, at last, spring actually seemed to be springing, which made for some extra positivity...
There have been new plans put forward by the council for the Western Harbour Development The previous plans would have put a bridge in between here and the suspension bridge. I've not looked at the new ones yet.
I'm sure both the entire flyover system and its monument bench looked splendid when they were first put up, in 1965.
Here you can hear a live performance of the song Virtute et Industrial by Adge Cutler and the Wurzels that includes a brief reference to the then-newly-completed flyover system:
Hast seen our brand new bridge, up there in Cumberland Basin?
The cars go by like thunder, and up and round and under
Where they goes, nobody knows, tain't no bleedin' wonder!
The Campbell Brothers' White Funnel Fleet operated from the Hotwells landing stage up until relatively recently. Last week I bought an old timetable on eBay and popped it up on my blog for anyone who might be interested.
In 1965, the year of the timetable, there were regular sailings from here along the coast or over to Wales. You could go to Ilfracombe and Lundy Island, or head across to Barry, Penarth or Cardiff. All from within five minutes' walk of my front door.
The towpath is a lovely stroll in weather like this. Waterproof walking shoes help, though, as the puddles are often wide enough to span the entire width. I baptised my new walking shoes on this trip.
This is probably the most popular spot to take photos of the bridge from this direction. I'd guess the large majority of photos of the Suspension Bridge are taken from the other side.
There are several ways into Leigh Woods along the towpath, all underneath bridges of the Portishead branch line that runs above.
At the one before this, which is normally locked and leads into a disused police shooting range, a woman beckoned me over to where she was standing with her bike, looking through the gates. "I think I've found your best shot today," she said Sadly, the very wide lens on the camera would have made any picture of the young deer that was standing in the sunlit distance a bit rubbish, so I contented myself with a few moments just looking at the scene.
One of the things you learn as you improve as a photographer is when not to bother trying to take a photo because you can't do it justice, and to just be in the moment and enjoy it instead.
There's been a lot of logging in Leigh Woods recently. Some of it is to control Ash Dieback, some of it to make way for the reintroduction of native trees.
I mostly went out to hang out with my friends Sarah and Vik in Bedminster, but along the way I thought I'd take a closer look at something a little nearer home: the last crossing point of the Rownham Ferry.
You don't often see Entrance Lock cycle at this kind of tide, but a little boat like that doesn't need a lot of water in the river to manoeuvre.
There, hopefully you can see it now—the slipway of the last incarnation of the Rownham Ferry, in use from as early as the 12th century to 1932, when this particular slipway was last used.
There's not much to see at the moment, as the tide's a bit too high. I'm going to head over to the Tobacco Factory Market, meet some friends, do a crossword or two, and head back at lower tide.
Again, the slipway is easy to miss. I like these little barely-visible curiosities that hide such heritage. The site of the crossing moved around—it's fairly obvious it wasn't right here in the 12th century, for example, because the river was only diverted into the New Cut, which the ferry crosses here, in the early 1800s. Earlier it was further downstream.
The Tobacco Factory, Bedminster's will-known theatre and bar, bought a farm in 2018 and now has a farm shop attached. always trying to be innovative, bought a farm in 2018 and now has a farm shop attached. I sometimes pop in on a Sunday, though it's the Sunday market that pops up in the back yard that actually lures me over there.
Getting back to the Rownham Ferry, the Ashton Avenue Bridge is one of the reasons it was closed. On the excellent Bristol City Docks website you can find a photo called "Rownham Ferry c1906 with Ashton Avenue Bridge nearly built.".
As you'll see in that photo, at low tide the Rownham Ferry was basically just a bridge made out of boats, so it probably still seemed a quick shortcut compared to walking all the way to Ashton Avenue Bridge. I imagine the foot traffic gradually migrated to the new bridge as the ferry was a more daunting prospect at high tide, from what I can gather. Also, the combined road/rail bridge would have allowed people to get the train across the river, rather than stopping at Clifton Bridge Station and using the ferry, I think.
Now the tide's lower, we can see the end of the slipway we looked at earlier poking out from the Somerset side. According this article from the Bristol & Avon
Family History Society:
In 1793 the ferry was identified as being used by many passengers to "cross the river at Rownham ferry and walk to the sweet and wholesome village of Ashton to eat strawberries and cream"
At an earlier site, the ferry was mentioned in the Proceedings in the Court of the Star Chamber in the Reigns of Henry VII and Henry VIII after a dispute between a new competitor and the existing ferry, which was run by St Augustine's Abbey. Presumably the crossing was used to get to and from the abbey property at Abbots Pool, which I've actually swum in, from the Abbey, now Bristol Cathedral.
Looks like the stones at the bottom corner were replaced with some simple poured concrete with grip lines drawn across it at some point.
I wanted to have a wander along to the Tobacco Factory Market for some shopping, and checking the map for any leftover nearby streets I noticed a tiny curve of road on the way into the modern flats at Paxton Drive that it didn't look like I'd walked down before. I wouldn't take me too far out of my way, so I decided to head there first and then across to North Street to get my groceries and a coffee...
Here we are at the tiny loop of road that looked like it hadn't been walked. It has very little to recommend itself in any other capacity.
Paxton Drive always reminds me of Blake's 7, but in fact in the episode Stardrive it's actually Doctor Plaxton's drive that's the MacGuffin.
It's better than no daffodils, but they're still rather swamped by the rather industrial setting.
Work on the New Cut, this man-made diversion of the river to allow the harbour to float free of the tide, was officially started on 1st May 1804 and finished on 1st May 1809, with something of a party:
On 1 May 1809 the docks project was certified as complete and a celebratory dinner was held on Spike Island for a thousand of the navvies, navigational engineers who had worked on the construction, at which "two oxen, roasted whole, a proportionate weight of potatoes, and six hundredweight of plum pudding" were consumed, along with a gallon of strong beer for each man. When the beer ran out a mass brawl between English and Irish labourers turned into a riot which had to be suppressed by the press gang.
I noticed I had a few things on my "potential wanders" list that could all be done relatively close to home, and in a fairly straight line, so I set off at lunchtime to recreate a photo of a now-defunct pub, wander behind a Spar (which turned out to be more interesting than I'd expected, but I admit it's a low bar) and spend some time browsing in Dreadnought Books before coming home via a coffee from Spoke & Stringer, a little diversion up Gasworks Lane and a tiny bit of the Rownham Mead estate I'd somehow previously skipped.
And here's the detail of Gasworks Lane I find interesting.
Part of my preferred walk to work is over the cobbles below Redcliffe Parade. It's not one of my favourite bits, because the going is treacherous and you have to look down at your feet all the time to make sure you don't come a cropper on the old and very uneven cobbles.
Here in Gasworks Lane things are different. Apparently the council used an interesting new technique that, according to Bristol247, they've experimented with in a few places across town.
The idea is to keep the classic look of the cobblestones but smooth out the ride for pedestrians and cyclists by taking the existing stones, cutting them in half to give a nice flat edge, then re-laying them lumpy-side down.
I'd not noticed it until I read the article, but I appreciate this technique now, and it'll be interesting to see how much more it gets used around the city.
On my way home I popped through Rownham Mead estate and snapped a few things, starting with this house number that I've always enjoyed. This used to be my regular cut-through to the commuter ferry service back when I used to get the boat to work, so I'm very familiar with this little area.
As usual, the somewhat bland housing estate is elevating itself by means of the horticulture—I really do like the job their landscapers do in general, but most of the houses also seem to take a lot of pride in the individual gardens, too.
And again—imagine it without all the rampant shrubbery and tree blossom. Great job, landscapers.
I didn't really set out with a theme of flowers and gardens in mind for this walk. I just fancied heading up to Clifton Village to get lunch. As it turned out, though, Spring was springing, so a minor theme emerged as I started off with the graveyard flowers of Hope Chapel and wandered up to see the beginnings of the new wildflower garden at Clifton Hill Meadow.
A lovely garden. Sadly a little lacking in facilities at the moment, after some scrote (or presumably a team thereof) had it away with their cast iron table and chair set at the end of March. This is why we can't have nice things, etc. etc.
This is the south end of Camden Terrace's little private garden, seeing as I seem to be on a bit of a garden and flower theme at the mo.
This is one of the three experimental areas. Nothing too apparent so far, but it's early dyas.
I left it a bit too late for a host of golden daffodils, most are on the turn. So here's a close-up of a selected still-perky individual.
Moving on from Clifton Hill, I fancied wandering through Lime Walk.
I always take a look for interesting graves as I wander through St Andrew's churchyard, and there's been quite a lot of ivy clearing recently, so there's more on display.
...doesn't sound like the kind of man who would appreciate the somewhat lax attitude his gravestone is taking to uprightness.
I rather like the stone drape across the funerary urn on the pedestal. Plenty more flowers on show, too. This is the bit where most of the squirrels hang out; I imagine they're in favour of the new dogs-on-leads rule.