Tagged: wheel
Coming Home in the Dark
19 Dec 2020
A nice walk home in the dark early evening—we're only a couple of days away from the winter solstice—found me getting a bit lost in Southville as I tried to knock a few new streets of my list. Happily getting lost in Southville at this time of year is in no way unpleasant, and just lets you look at more Christmas lights, really.
Sunday Bedmo
20 Dec 2020
A long meander around bits of Bedminster, from the river to the north to Winterstoke Road to the south, taking a few roads I've seen before, and a few I haven't. The Christmas decorations were an extra bonus.
The original artist is John Tenniel (whose name I can never remember.) It was Stewy and homeowner Alison Larkman who did the work of putting it on the wall here, though.
I presume it used to be a shop. Under the ragged tarpaulin is, I think, a Ford Consul Capri, and in the past there's been a later Ford—actual—Capri parked next to it, so the owner clearly has a bit of a think for Capris.
If you look closely, you can see the single strand of tinsel around a balcony railing that appears to be the sole concession to Christmas cheer in this block.
In my upcoming espionage novel, Clarks Pies is the cover identity for a retired MI5 agent.
On Christmas Day in the Morning
25 Dec 2020
A Christmas Day walk with my friends Sarah and Vik, taking in the shipwrecked Shadow and a hilly chunk of Leigh Woods.
I went to have a peep at the giant sinkhole that's opened up in Canynge Square—ironically, having recently discovered the gardens were public I'd had the (triangular!) square on my list to re-visit for a few days, but now there's no entrance to the gardens due to the danger. The area was well fenced-off for safety, but I tried to get a couple of photos from behind the barriers.
I also explored the area around Camp Road, an real melange of architectures, one of the most mixed-up areas I've seen in Clifton, in fact, and confirmed my friend Claire's suspicion that an earlier snap of a sign from Manilla Road was in fact for a fire hydrant. Nice.
"Is this a... gallery?" I asked the man who coincidentally emerged from a door, out of shot to the left.
"No, it’s just someone’s private place that she lets people use, or..." he tailed off, not really knowing how to describe the place.
My historical research took a wander underground recently, partly inspired by the Canynge Square sinkhole, partly by St Vincent's (Ghyston's) cave and its tunnel to the Observatory, and I was surprised to find that there might be an intact tunnel from the Bristol Port Railway and Pier still just sitting there under Bridge Valley Road. A quick search turned up this recent video by an intrepid explorer, so it's definitely still there.
I went looking for the entrances today, and definitely found the south entrance, at the start of the Bridge Valley Path, the footpath that starts with steps at the bottom of Bridge Valley Road. It's easy to miss if you're not looking for it. I think I've figured out where the north entrance is, too, but it was getting dark at that stage and the Portway was still busy enough that crossing the road was still the normal nuisance, so I thought I'd leave further explorations for another day.
Despite its looks, this is neither of the two footpaths actually called the Zig Zag (the Zig Zag itself, closer to town, and the New Zig Zag, further out.) This is in fact the Bridge Valley Path
I have other pictures of the Bridge Valley Path from other days; it's not entirely photogenic, though it is a nice walk if you're okay with hills. I skipped the photos this time until I emerged at the top, in Clifton.
To show the lights off better. It seems to have a jury-rigged battery pack and solar panel, so for all I know, it's still there, saying hello in the night...
A Promenade on New Year's Day
01 Jan 2021
I wandered along the gorge today and found the entrance to the disused Portnalls Number 1 railway tunnel of the Bristol Port Railway and Pier. The door was unlocked, but as soon as I opened it I felt a sense of current habitation and decided discretion was the best option. There's a lot of people homeless in Bristol at the moment, and they don't need disturbing. For the same reason, I've omitted posting some pictures of a little encampment somewhat off the beaten track of the new Zig Zag, where I reversed direction as soon as I realised I'd come across a current habitation of some sort.
Up in Clifton it took me a little while to work out that the picture of the Promenade I was trying to reproduce was taken from the viewpoint I'd thought, it was just that the Alderman's fountain was moved from the top of Bridge Valley Road to the other side of the promenade in 1987, so trying to use it as my initial landmark wasn't very helpful!
Finally I swung past the Society of Merchant Venturers, who presumably still own most of Clifton, having bought the entire manor, including Clifton Down, in 1676, and I imagine aren't in much danger of running out of money. That's true to their motto: indocilis pauperiem pati is apparently from the Odes of Horace, and translates as "will not learn to endure poverty"...
The odd green thing is apparently something to do with the gas pipline running underneath.
Prince's Lane
06 Jan 2021
The International Grotto Directory website says:
Prince’s Lane might have been one of the original ancient tracks from Hotwells to Clifton, in the Avon Gorge. The site later formed part of Rownham Woods which comprised some thirteen acres. By the end of the 18th century and the early 19th century, the Society of Merchant Venturers granted to Samuel Powell a building lease, for The Colonnade (1786), St. Vincent’s Parade (1790), Prince’s Buildings (1796), and Rock House. Rock House is generally considered to be the oldest surviving building associated with the Hotwell (see Chapter 20). John Power conveyed part of the woods to William Watts for the construction of Windsor Terrace (1790-1808).
The above development of the Avon Gorge cleared Rownham Woods, and created a triangle of land on the north side of the gorge, that became enclosed as a result, by Mansion Houses, whose garden walls all entered on to Prince’s Lane. The Lane started at the bottom of the gorge, at the base rock of Windsor Terrace, and came out half way up Sion Hill. It is clearly shown as a public footpath, dotted with trees, in Ashmead’s map of 1828. Some of the gardens were quite steep in parts and therefore, had to be terraced, because of the gradient of the gorge.
I've passed Prince's Lane literally thousands of times in my life, every time I've walked past the Avon Gorge Hotel, which itself started (in 1898) as the Grand Clifton Spa and Hydropathic Institution and pumped water up from the Hot Well for its hydropathic treatments. I've never actually ventured down it until today, or at least nothing like as far down it as I did this afternoon—I may have poked my head around the back of the hotel to see the original pump rooms at some point in the past.
This was a great wander, though it does very much feel like a private road, and frankly I may have been pushing my luck a bit by winding my way between the astoundingly big back gardens of the houses of some presumably very wealthy Cliftonites, but I felt vaguely justified in exploring the history of one of the oldest footpaths in my part of Bristol...
Or the first sight of them in the distance, anyway. The terrace on the left is Prince's Buildings; we'll be walking being their gardens in a bit...
I always enjoy peeping down Prince's Lane on the way past and enjoyin the view of distant hills.
This was a pretty astounding space, by all accounts, in the style of a Georgian "long room" or assembly room, with the added bonus of a fountain of the Hot Well water being pumped up from the spring below. There are some pictures here of the interior.
It seems someone ignominious for it to end up boarded over with cars and portaloos scattered around it.
A Little Local Wander
07 Jan 2021
Which included a literal "local", the Pump House, to try out their shop/deli/cafe. A flat white, some apples and a New York Deli toastie. Eleven quid, mind, but the Pump House was never a cheap pub...
I enjoyed the fog, and wandering down a few more out-of-the-way back alleys and what-have-you on the Hotwell Road.
I'm thinking of getting up early and going for a morning walk tomorrow, weather-depending, but at the moment my motivation to do things like this seems to be much strong in the evenings when I'm just thinking about it rather than in the morning when I actually have to do it. But it's going to be cold, and low tide is quite early, so there's always a chance of getting some footage of the hot well actually being visibly hot; you never know...
I seem to recall from the community newsletter that when coming to plant trees and flowers and generally make Cumberland Piazza a bit more pleasant, the local team of volunteers found that they had no easy access to a water supply. This is one part of their cunning plan to provide one—see the adjacent phtoo for the other part that feeds the rainwater butts.
I liked the slightly flying-saucer curve of this bit of Poole's Wharf. I like the Lloyds building on Canon's March, too, which is pleasingly circular.
I understand that the man who first wanted to open this as a fish & chip shop suffered a heart attack not long before the planned opening. That was a couple of years back. Hopefully he recovered and is now running the place, but either way, it's nice to have a fish shop in the area again. The owner of the combined Chinese/Fish & Chip shop closer to me up the road retired a few years ago, and I've been missing it.
I didn't realise this was just a car park and an entrance to a couple of the flats. I exited quite quickly once I'd worked that out. I did spot a gate that looked like it might lead through to the rest of the estate, but I didn't try it.
Morning Walk
08 Jan 2021
Tempted by a hopeful repeat of yesterday's weather, I got up early this morning and went for a short walk up into Clifton Village, around Observatory Hill, back down the Zig Zag and home. Instead of beautiful and mysterious fog and crisp freezing brightness I got some murk and slight dampness which included witnessing a road-raging van driver and finding that it still wasn't cold enough for the hot well to be even gently steaming when I got down there. I've still never seen it steaming, but I've been told it does, on colder days.
The van driver, who'd nearly driven into the side of the motorcyclist while doing a three-point turn just this side of the blind bend at the top of Sion Hill, became increasingly aggressive in the ensuing "discussion", including pointedly shouting that it didn't matter who was right, because he was in a van and the other man was on a bike, "so who'd be working afterwards?" in the event of a crash.
I'd stopped to make sure nothing terrible happened; when he got out of his van, walked right up to the motorcyclist and started shouting in his face, I started walking back towards them, taking the occasional photograph in the hopes that realising his actions were being witnessed and documented might make him think twice about turning physically violent. I don't know whether it helped, whether it was the car coming up behind us, or something else that made him get back in the van. Whatever, he got back in and screamed off far too quickly down the hill.
As you can tell, I didn't have time to change the camera settings. Getting the monopod back unfolded was also not much of an option :)
Mirror Maze
10 Jan 2021
Went for a wander with my friend Lisa—the current lockdown rules seem to be that one local walk for exercise per day with a maximum of one person not in one's "bubble" is fine—up to the University of Bristol area right at the edge of my one-mile perimeter to see the Jeppe Hein Mirror Maze, among other things. On the way we mused about Merchant Venturers, the slave and tobacco trades, and dating in the time of Covid.
One of the roads I used to walk down regularly on my way home from a job at the top of Whiteladies Road. I used to enjoy cutting through here and crossing through the closed-to-cars bit just around from the Lido at the far end.
The pillar vents next to double-doored pavement covers are a dead giveaway. Many of Bristol's electrical substations are hidden underground like this. If you're brave enough to put your nose near the vent and inhale you'll get a whiff of hot, dry air with the metallic taint of a large electric transformer.
If it's trying to blend in with the neighbourhood, what on earth are the green windowframes about?