Tagged: roof
Ticking Off a Few Streets in Bedminster
31 Oct 2021
There were only a few streets left to wander in the more residential bit of Bedminster, so I thought I should target those today. The streets themselves weren't that notable, though Balfour Road has a contrasting mix of old and new housing. I tried to snap a few more interesting things along the way there and back, snapping all three of the familiar bond warehouses, nipping onto North Street to find some new street art, and finding a few pumpkins for good measure. It is hallowe'en, after all...
I went out simply wanting to knock off the very last little unwalked section of Clanage Road, over by Bower Ashton, which has been annoying me for a while as it's quite close by and I've walked the other bits of it several times. So, my plan was to nip over to Greville Smyth Park via a slightly unusual route to wander Clanage Road and tick it off.
Along the way, though, I inevitably got a bit distracted. I took a few photos of Stork House, a grand Hotwell Road building that's recently been done up a bit (I imagine it's student lets, though I'm not sure) and which I found a reference to in a book about the Port Railway and Pier the other week, and also tried to match up a historical photo of Hotwells before the Cumberland Basin Flyover System laid it waste, which included some interesting markers I'll have to do a bit more digging into...
I've always loved the bow windows; if you look closely you'll see the window frames are slightly curved to match the curvature of the walls. Must be quite pricey to have repairs done, I'll wager.
Stork House was the Stork Hotel back when the Bristol Port Railway and Pier, which connected Hotwells with a deep-water pier at Avonmouth, was in its heyday.
The Stork Family Hotel at Hotwells sought custom by advertising to seamen on ships arriving at Avonmouth, a combined rail ticket to Bristol and meal in this hotel. The same concern also advertised bed, breakfast, hot evening meal and seven days’ ticket to Avonmouth by BPR for sixteen shillings a week.
— Colin Maggs, The Bristol Port Railway & Pier, Oakwood Press, 1975
I imagine this would have been quite an attractive deal to a sailor, who could stay in Hotwells with its vast plethora of pubs and other entertainments and pop back to his ship in the comparative wastelands of Avonmouth when necessary. (There would also have been plenty of sailors who were already quite used to hanging around in Hotwells while their ship was in town rather than waiting around at the new pier at Avonmouth, and familiar with the local facilities. Thinking about what other "facilities" there may have been for sailors makes me wonder again if the bit of the Hotwell Road that ended up being called "Love Street" might've been a bit of euphemism at some stage or other...)
I was trying to recreate the angle of the old, pre-Cumberland Road Flyover System photo that comes next. I couldn't get the angle, mostly because of the height, but this seems to be shot from about the right direction.
Bower Ashton is an interesting little area just south of the river from me—in fact, the Rownham Ferry used to take people over from Hotwells to Bower Ashton, operating from at least the twelfth century to around the 1930s.
It's a strangely contradictory little area, with a cluster of old and new houses sandwiched in between the busy A-roads and significantly more industrial area of Ashton and the bucolic country estate of Ashton court roughly east to west, and also between Somerset and Bristol, north to south.
I've been around here before, mostly poking around Bower Ashton's arguably most well-known bit, the Arts faculty campus of the University of the West of England, but I'd missed at least Parklands Road and Blackmoors Lane, so I initially planned just to nip across briefly and wander down each in turn. On a whim, though, I texted my friends Sarah and Vik in case they were out and about, and ended up diverting to the Tobacco Factory Sunday market first, to grab a quick flat white with them, extending my journey a fair bit.
To start with, though, I nipped to a much more local destination, to see something that you can't actually see at all, the Gridiron...
(I also used this wander as a test of the cameras in my new phone. I finally upgraded after a few years, and the new one has extra, separate wide and telephoto lenses compared to the paltry single lens on my old phone. Gawd. I remember when speed-dial was the latest innovation in phones...)
The original entrance to the Ashton Court Estate, apparently. The Clifton Lodge entrance is rather grander.
I'm not sure I've ever walked or even driven past the Ashton before, and it's only a mile away from me—in fact, my mile radius line divides it roughly in half. Tripadvisor suggests that its solid 3-star review average is made up of people having either one-star or five-star experiences, which is sometimes the hallmark of a great place that's happy to be rude to idiots...
Maybe this is the place to have a celebratory meal when I finally decide I've actually walked all the roads within my mile...
It's got the grazing field at the front and school playing fields at the back, and the road it's on isn't manic. Does this count as a Somerset "country" pub I can walk to?
This used to be called The Dovecote, but was gutted by fire in 2014 and re-opened under the new name the following year.
It really is quite countrified all of a sudden. There used to be a couple of barns next to this house; the Bower Ashton Website has some interesting old pictures up.
Jersey Cottage is, unsurprisingly, the place the "cow man" used to live, according to this interesting bit of oral history you can listen to on the Ashton Gate House site.
Away from the A road it's very quiet, the loudest sound along this lane was the squabbling of the hosts of sparrows and other tiny bramble-dwelling birds.
The Gridiron and Bower Ashton Part Two
03 Dec 2021
On my last wander, to Bower Ashton, I was intending to knock Blackmoors Lane off my list "to-do" list, but got a bit diverted. I also took a little look into the history of the Gridiron, once a cheaper alternative to dry dock that was nestled just south of North Entrance Lock.
Today I had to go to send a parcel off somewhere, so I decided on going to the North Street Post Office via Blackmoors Lane. I didn't have much intention of anything else, but as luck would have it I walked out both at low tide and also as some lockkeepers seemed to be having a bit of a training session, and one of the more senior people was (a) happy to answer a few random questions on the Gridiron and (b) actually knew a lot about it, as Gridiron maintenance had been one of his jobs, more than twenty years ago...
You can see how this sluice channel entrance in the side of the Entrance Lock wall is about level with the control wheel we saw on the far side—if you look closely, you can see it immediately to the left of and behind the modern building in the background. Given what the lockkeeper described to me, I'm confident that this is where the water for sluicing the Gridion clean of silt came from—they fill Entrance lock, then open the sluice to carry water—which must be under reasonable pressure with a full lock—across to the far side where the Gridiron is, washing off the accumulated silt.
Clever, these Bristol engineers: no actual pumping required. Just tides and gravity.
And that's the last of my musing on the Gridiron. I'm not sure why I became so fascinated by a giant Victorian boat-sieve, but I did!
A Water-Based Wander
11 Dec 2021
I woke up on this Saturday with a headache, feeling like I'd not slept at all. As well as that, I'm still in some pain from the wisdom tooth extraction I had a few weeks ago. I moped about the flat for a while and then decided that the best thing to do was to force myself out on at least a small walk to get some fresh air and coffee.
Was there anywhere I could walk locally that I'd never been? Actually, yes! Although it's not a road, and I didn't walk it, there is actually one route that I've not travelled so far in my wanders. And it even had coffee near its far end...
The cross-harbour ferry "ties up" to the quay at either side by dropping a hoop over a short post fitted to the edge. The hoop is lifted and dropped remotely, by a line running to the little cabin aft. The passenger ramp is also remotely operated—you can see the little block and tackle arrangement running to a pulley with another line back to the cabin.
The boat's crewed by a single person, and they're usually accurate enough with their aim and their remote controls that they don't need to leave the cabin at all during their back-and-forth trips from here, the harbour inlet, to the SS Great Britain steps on the other side. These days they've stopped taking coins, and avoid corona cooties by staying behind their cabin window and holding up a card reader to take your £1.20.
Bristol has a long tradition of ferries. The Rownham Ferry near me was operating in the 12th century, and I was reading about the planned temporary closure of Gaol Ferry Bridge this morning, which fairly obviously is the bridge that replaced the ferry that used to run between Bedminster and the New Gaol.
Interesting how "new" is quite a stretchy word. The "New" Gaol was demolished in 1898, and of course the bridge spans the "New" Cut, the diverted section of river that was completed in 1809...
So I guess that's staying there. Good. I'd like to think that when the building work is finished, this narrow little alley will have been replaced with a nicer, more accessible path alongside the shiny new flats. I still miss the derelict McArthur's warehouse that was knocked down here, and the humming of the bees that thronged among its thick coating of ivy.
A Constitutional to Burwalls and Back
21 Dec 2021
The recent lack of posts here is mostly due to my feeling very run down following having a couple of wisdom teeth extracted. Having had an emergency appointment yesterday1, hopefully I'll be on the mend now, though it does mean I'm on the kind of antibiotics where you can't touch alcohol for the whole of the Christmas period. I have tried to keep myself a little distracted from the pain by working on the nuts and bolts of this website—you should notice that the front page loads rather faster now than it used to, and that there's a shiny new statistics page that I'll probably be continuing to work on. Oh, and you should find that the tags below the photos are now clickable and will take you to a page of all other wanders that have photos with the same tag.
Today I felt like I needed to drag myself out of the house, but I didn't want to go too far, and I needed to get to the Post Office up in Clifton Village to post a Christmas card (spoiler for my parents: it's going to be late. Sorry.) As luck would have it, idly looking at the map I spotted that I'd missed off a section of Burwalls Road in the past, and that's basically one of the long-ways-round to Clifton Village, crossing the river to Rownham and walking up the hill on the Somerset side before coming back across the Suspension Bridge.
As I was heading for Burwalls Road I decided to make Burwalls itself the focal point of the walk, but unfortunately the mansion grounds are private and the place is hard to snap. Still, at least it gave me a destination. Burwalls was the mansion built by Bristol press magnate Joseph Leech, who I've mentioned before after buying a vintage book he wrote on a previous wander. There's a good article about the house on House and Heritage which has some photos from angles I couldn't ever get to. (Well, maybe with a drone, but it seems like the kind of area where they may be kitted out for clay pigeon shooting, so I probably wouldn't risk it.)
1 My dentist admitted that she probably needed to keep her internal monologue a bit more internal after we started the appointment with her staring into my mouth and immediately saying, "oh, that's weird." These are words one doesn't want to hear from a medical professional.
Our first close-up sight. Sadly the main building is disappointingly hard to take a photo of. Still, I suppose if I'd just bought a flat for one-and-a-half million quid I'd probably not want some plebe with a camera being nosy around the place.
The manor was originally built by Joseph Leech, a fascinating man who was owner of the Bristol Times. Among other fun things, he used to be the "Bristol Church-goer", publishing an anonymous and apparently quite funny column as a "mystery shopper"-style reviewer of church services.
There's a bit more about him on my blog, prompted by my buying a lovely old book by him in a secondhand shop on a previous wander.
I was just about starting to feel better—the antibiotics seemed to have kicked in for my dental issues, and it had been some days since I'd left the house, and I was at last starting to get itchy feet. So, a wander. But where? Well, there were a few industrial bits near Winterstoke Road in the Ashton/Ashton Vale areas of Bristol that needed walking. I knew they were likely to be quite, well, unattractive, frankly. So why not do them while I wasn't feeling exactly 100% myself? Maybe it would fit my mood. Hopefully you're also in the mood for a bit of post-industrial wasteland, for that's what some of this feels like...
Then, at the last minute, I thought again about the Bristol International Exhibition—I've got a book about it on the way now—and that gave me another goal, which could just about be said to be in the same direction, and I decided to walk significantly further than my normal 1-mile limit and try recreating another historical photo...
Sadly I don't know much about the Ashton area; it's just on the edges of my mile and I rarely have cause to go there. It's brimming with history, I'm sure: the whole South Bristol area rapidly developed from farmland to coal mines to factories to its current interesting mixture of suburbs and industrial work over the last few hundred years. As a more working class area less attention was paid to it by historians, at least historically-speaking, than the Georgian heights of Clifton, and much of it has been knocked down and reinvented rather than listed and preserved. I see here and there some of this lack is being addressed, but I'm afraid I'll be very light on the history myself on this wander, as most of my usual sources aren't throwing up their normal reams of information as when I point them at Clifton, Hotwells or the old city.
I do at least appreciate the fact that Bristol City Timber has a traditional wooden front door.
A Random New Year's Day Wander
01 Jan 2022
I picked a fairly arbitrary reason for a wander today. Really, I just wanted to do a New Year's Day wander just to get out of the house and to set a precedent for the year to come.
My ostensible reason was to investigate what looked like a road on my map that quartered the lawn in front of the Ashton Court mansion. As it turned out, this is just a muddy footpath/desire line similar to a half-dozen other tracks nearby, and must be some kind of bug or misclassification with the mapping system I'm using, but that's not important. What's important is that I went for a little walk on the first day of the year. As a bonus, I did happen to wander down a couple of sections of new footpath, so technically I broke some new ground too, which is nice.
...and this is the Kennel Lodge itself. Presumably you'd want to keep your hounds a fair distance from the house just to keep the racket out of earshot.
We'll leave today's wander with a snap of the Patent Slip. I wonder if the newer timber closest to the camera is the greenheart that they're renewing some of the structure with? Hardy stuff, as Wikipedia says:
The wood is extremely hard and strong, so hard that it cannot be worked with standard tools. It is durable in marine conditions, so it is used to build docks and other structures... The Fram and the Endurance, made famous in the polar expeditions of Amundsen and Shackleton, were the two strongest wooden ships ever constructed and were sheathed in greenheart to prevent them from being crushed by ice.
Near and Far
05 Jan 2022
I took advantage of a rare recent day where it wasn't tipping down with rain to get away from my desk on a lunchtime workday and head up to Clifton Village. I'd hoped to snap a reproduction of historical photo which I'd worked out had been taken from the Suspension Bridge, but the gods were not smiling on me. Still, taking only a nice long lens with me worked out very well as the lovely haze of the day made more distant views quite dramatic...
The Nova Scotia pub bottom right, then behind it the chimney of the previously coal-fired pump house at Underfall Yard. In the background behind that and to the right is the Tobacco Factory, with what looks like a little red shed on its roof that I presume is actually a stairwell exit to the roof. On the left-hand side at about the same distance away is the large council block of Little Cross House. It always seems quite calm and tidy when I pass it, which is very regularly, but the Bristol Post painted a different picture in 2019 in their story headlined "Residents of 'forgotten' tower block demand council action over 'nightmare' living conditions":
People living in Little Cross House, a 13-storey council tower block in Southville, said their lives are plagued by poor living conditions, damp and mould, and neighbours from hell, drug dealers, discarded needles, vandalism and anti-social behaviour.
In the far distance, across the Southville rooftops, are the green hills of the Knowle West Health Park, I think.
Lunchtime Reproduction (of an old photo...)
17 Jan 2022
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...
Just think, I could upgrade to a flat just up the hill from me, with an extra bedroom, for only about three quarters of a million quid...
From Electric Arc Lamps in Bristol, by Peter Lamb, a supplement to the Histelec News, August 1997:
In looking at old photographs of late Victorian or early Edwardian scenes, many of you may have noticed very decorative street lights gracing the foregrounds. These lamp standards had long cylindrical shapes above the lamp, which distinguished them as being electric arc lamps. You may have wondered, like me, what was inside these housings. These cylinders, known colloquially at the turn of the century as “chimneys” were not chimneys at all, but housed the complex mechanisms regulating the carbon electrodes. Only two lamp standards of this distinctive design remain as street furniture on the Bristol streets and these are situated at The Mall, Clifton Village.
Given the long cylindrical shape and the fact it's on the Mall, pretty sure this must be one of the last two electric arc lamps still standing, or possibly the last one, as I couldn't find the other one.
EDIT: Having asked on Next Door, where there've been a few threads about historic lamp restoration, it seems the other one used to stand at the end of West Mall, not far away, was taken away for restoration a long time ago, and has yet to reappear.
There's another Bristol connection too, with Sir Humphrey Davy, as the article continues:
Sir Humphrey Davey is credited with inventing the first arc lamp, when he demonstrated his invention at the Royal Institution in 1810. It was powered by batteries and used charcoal elements enclosed in a vacuum. The vacuum allowed a longer arc with a much higher voltage. It was some years later (1844) that the principle was further developed by a Frenchman by the name of Foucault. He used carbons from the retorts of a gasworks, which were more durable. Thomas Wright devised the first arc lamp which involved adjustment of the carbons automatically as they burnt away, and W.C.Staite used an electric current for the regulation of the carbons. Foucault responded in 1858 by producing his regulating lamp.
(Yes, that is Foucault of Foucault's Pendulum fame.)