Tagged: water
I was originally going to head over to the Ashton area to see if I'd missed any bits around the football stadium—and also to grab some lunch from the Tobacco Factory Market—but in the end I got a little distracted by having accidentally chosen exactly the right time to see the Plimsoll Bridge swing on one of the first busy days of Spring, where a lot of pleasure trips tend to head out down the Avon (and possibly the New Cut) from Hotwells.
In the end I mostly snapped that, and just a couple of photos from the Ashton area where I grabbed some lunch but didn't do any new exploring.
The Plimsoll Bridge is definitely not the oldest swinger in town. In fact, it may be the youngest swinger in town. I think the only other functioning swing bridges on the floating harbour (side-to-side rather than up-down like Redcliffe Bascule) are Junction Bridge (hidden in this picture, it's on the far side of the Cumberland Basin, carrying Merchants Road) and Prince Street Bridge, built in 1925 and 1879 respectively. The Plimsoll Bridge is mid-1960s.
You don't often see this view of the brutalist bridge abutment, because the bridge itself is normally blocking and overshadowing the view here. Excuse me while I take far too many photos of it to be healthy.
I've always particularly liked the spiral staircases and the control tower, which looks like it's escaped from a prison camp.
You can see the man whose job it is to work the rather complicated-looking controls in the control tower has come out onto his balcony now the opening procedure is done.
I managed to go for a wander a while ago that was meant to finish off a little tangle of paths in Leigh Woods, or at the very least finish off my wandering of the Purple Path there. And I managed to miss doing either of those things through some kind of navigational incompetence.
Today I woke up with a bit of a headache, feeling a bit knackered as soon as I dragged myself out of bed, but at least with the energy to realise that I'd be better off (a) going for a walk in what looked likely to be the last of the Jubilee weekend sunshine than (b) moping around the flat until it started raining, at which point I could mope more thoroughly.
I had a look at my map, considered going to Ashton Court, but remembered that there was a music festival there today, and instead found these little leftovers of Leigh Woods and decided to have one more try at walking them.
Another day not dissimilar to my last wander: I'm feeling a bit tired and rather than just moping around the house I thought I'd find some tiny bit of somewhere that I'd not yet walked and get outdoors. This time I headed for the Tobacco Factory Market in Bedminster, as I often do, but went the long way around via Ashton Court Mansion as I knew there were some footpaths and a small section of road I'd not ticked off up there. Finishing all the Ashton Court footpaths will be quite a long job, but you've got to start somewhere...
I did feel rather better by the time I got home, and, pretty much astoundingly given the weather forecast, managed to avoid the rain completely.
Fairly typical Bristol scene here, as the traffic is held up for a bridge swing caused by a replica of a 15th century caravel.
I'd normally walk over those open lock gates she's just sailed through, but it's easy enough to walk down to the gates at the river end.
Trasparenza, by Andrea Greenlees, originally built for Burning Man in 2016. It has transparent benches inside, but it looked a bit of a tight squeeze, so I left the children of the family that arrived a couple of minutes later to it. They seemed to enjoy exploring. There's a view from the inside on Andrea's Instagram.
I think the Latin edging the doorway is "Pulchritudo Est Aliquid Incorporeum": "Beauty is an incorporeal thing", near as I can make out.
I've been pretty awful at reading so far this year, apparently averaging about one book per month. That's a far cry from 2019, say, where I got through 41 books in the year. Today's wander was prompted by my rubbish reading, as I needed to go hand back some books to the library, because I'd managed to renew them so many times that I hit the limit on renewals. Oops. Several of them were still unread.
So, off to the Central Library for me, tail between my legs. On the way there I did my best to recreate a historical photo of Dowry Square; while I was in the area I walked under the adjacent Norman arch and poked around behind the Cathedral, and I also had a little diversion to the city centre and came back along the south side of the river, hitting some trouble with the lock gates as I finally crossed the harbour back towards home.
Library business concluded, I decided that my feet weren't quite sore enough, so decided to head back home by completing a circuit of the harbour rathter than just heading back down the noisy Hotwell Road. Wandering past the Arnolfini, I spotted this from a viewpoint not far from where the status of John Cabot stands, surveying the docks.
While I was taking the last few photos I'd been hearing the two-tone alarm signal of a bridge swing, so I knew something would be going on at the lock when I got here. This time, though, I got more than I bargained for.
I was coming up to cross at these lock gates like normal when I saw that the lock keeper operating the hydraulics was having some difficulties. Sure enough, after a few attempts at closing the gates, it became apparent that they just weren't having any of it. They were getting this close to closing and then jamming.
...which was good in some ways; I've always been curious about the control panel for the lock gates, and as the lockkeeper went to have a closer look at the gates themsevles I took this snap and, in the next photo, a close-up.
As you can see, there were quite a lot of boats waiting to leave Bristol for a jaunt down the river, most notably the Matthew, and Bristol Packet's Bagheera.
As a pedestrian I have a few alternative routes to cross. I decided to stroll down to the outer lock gate and get back to my side of the harbour there rather than going the long way around over the Plimsoll Bridge.
In the distance you can see a lockkeeper fishing in the water with a grappling hook on the end of some blue line to see if he can figure out what the gate is fouling on.
I was expecting them to pull a shopping trolley out at any moment. They weren't managing to snag anything, though.
While I was tempted to hang around to see if they eventually pulled anything out of the way, the heat of the day was beating down pretty hard by this point and I didn't want to risk sunburn, so I headed home. As did all the boats in the lock, who returned back into Cumberland Basin and presumably eventually back to the city, refunding/rebooking their passengers.
I found out that my decision to leave had been a good one two days later, on Tuesday evening, when I happened to be on my walking commute home during another locking out, this time with the lock gates working. I asked the lock keeper about the problem, and apparently they'd tried hooking out whatever was fouling the gate for quite some time on Sunday, but eventually gave up and sent divers in on Monday, who pulled out a large section of chain-link fence that was fouling the south lock gate and got everything working again.
I'm in the habit of going over to the Tobacco Factory Market on a Sunday. I think I've walked all the routes around that way, but as a Plimsoll Bridge swing let me cross the road to the far side of Brunel Way on my return journey and I took a couple of photos of the brownfield development at the old Ashton Gate Depot site I thought I'd call it a Wander and pop some photos up.
"STEEP DROP INTO MUD AND FAST FLOWING WATER".
This sign has been mildly annoying photographers since it was put up, getting a bit in the way of several alternative views from this bit of land. I presume it was installed in response to some kind of accident, but I'd hazard a guess that whatever difficulties someone got into probably wouldn't have been prevented by a sign that stated the completely bloody obvious.
I took two shots from the south side of Brunel Way, a slightly different vantage point from my usual snapping point at the end of Spike Island down below. I'm not sure if I prefer this colour one...
An enormous walk today, or at least it felt enormous. My feet are sore, anyway. I started off recreating a couple of local historical photos in Hotwells, but then headed for my traditional walk along the towpath in the Avon Gorge to the far extreme of Leigh Woods, up and through the woods to the height of the Suspension Bridge, finally crossing into Clifton Village for a well-deserved vanilla latte.
I say "traditional" because this used to be a very regular route for me, first walking, years and years ago, and later jogging—this route combined with a circuit of the Downs on the other side used to be my way of making sure I was fit to do a half-marathon (I did six of them in total, between 2010 and 2014).
I miss the routine of this walk, even though it's a long way and it used to pretty much wipe me out when I did it—I'd come back home and collapse and do very little for the rest of the day. But perhaps that's what Sundays are for, and I should try to remember that.
Doing this walk regularly was quite a meditative experience. Not so much of that today, but once I got to the further extreme of the towpath, where the roar of the Portway traffic on the other side of the river dwindles and I turned into Leigh Woods to climb ever closer to birdsong and further from rushing cars, I did seem to recapture a little of the feeling of previous walks. (I would say my mind cleared, but I was mentally singing along to Life Without Buildings' The Leanover for most of the wander. There are worse songs to have stuck in one's head, though; it's a great track...)
Anyway. Apparently the walk made me more likely to ramble in words, too. I'll stop now :)
I love the terracing between the back of Rock House/the Colonnade and the heights of Clifton
The roofed area below the Suspension Bridge is called The Gallery; it's there to prevent rocks from the particularly friable cliff face below the bridge from falling onto the Portway. It's also the rough former location of the Hotwells railway station on the Port Railway and Pier, which I explore in more details on a later wander.
