Tagged: wood
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...
A milestone, perhaps? And there looks to be a benchmark on the bigger bit.
Aha! A quick look at the historic OS maps on Know Your Place finds a marker right on this spot marked "B.S.", which the National Library of Scotland's helpful abbreviations page translates as "Boundary Stone". With that in mind I then had a look on the wonderful geograph site and there it is:
The front stone appears to be an old boundary stone, delineating the Administrative County, Parliamentary County and Rural District boundaries that were part of the Bristol limits in the twentieth century, possibly dated 1897? Behind it is a larger block of stones that may have been part of the Smyth estate further up the hill. On the latter is a partly hidden benchmark.
So I spotted the partly hidden benchmark correctly, too :) There is, of course, a benchmarks directory with an entry for the benchmark itself. What did people do before the internet?
EDIT TO ADD Nearly a year later, I watching a DVD Bristol Railway Stations by Mike Oakley and found out what the larger bit behind the milestone actually is: it's the last remnant of the Clifton Bridge Station buildings, which once faced out onto the road here.
View into the car park of the former stables/kennels. I just poked my camera through a big hole in the gate.
Quite the insult. This is in the underpass on the way to Ashton Gate. Normally I find it hard to make my way to North Street when coming from this direction, because of all the badly-marked underpasses that lead in improbable directions, but today I just followed the moderate throng of sports fans on the assumption that they were heading for Ashton Gate, which would take me in the right direction.
The more I research it, the more I find that Hotwells had far better transport links back in Victorian and Edwardian times than it has today. Along with buses that went to more useful places than the City Centre, there were trams, the funicular up to Clifton, the landing stage for paddle steamer services and two railway stations all within easy walking distance of me.
Today I took a day off work as preparation for doing the bookkeeping for my tax return1, and took a wander along to the site of what would have been my nearest station, Hotwells (or Clifton, as it started out in life), nestled in the shadow of the suspension bridge, the Bristol terminus of the Bristol Port Railway and Pier.
From there I wandered down the Portway, following the original line, until I got to the area around Sneyd Park Junction, where the tunnel from the slightly later Clifton Extension Railway joined up with this originally-isolated BPR line. Then I headed up to Clifton through the "goat gully" at Walcombe Slade, seeing the few above-ground bits of evidence of the tunnel (which is still in regular use) along the way.
It was a lovely day, and a good walk, and it was interesting to daydream of the times when I could have walked a few minutes from my flat down to Dowry Parade, caught a short tram ride to Hotwells Stations, and then headed from there to Avonmouth, perhaps even to board a transatlantic passenger service. The completion of the Clifton Extension Railway that linked the Avonmouth station with Temple Meads made relatively direct transatlantic travel from London via Bristol possible, with passengers travelling up from Paddington to Temple Meads, on to Avonmouth on the Clifton Extension Railway and Port Railway and Pier line, then perhaps catching a Cambpell's paddle steamer—which sometimes acted as tenders for large steamers—to a larger ship that was headed out for Canada, say.
1 I've learned that the best approach is to take two days off and deliberately do something that's not my bookkeeping on the first day, as otherwise I just inevitably end up procrastinating and feeling guilty on the first day no matter what. I have an odd brain, but at least I'm learning strategies for dealing with its strange ways as I get older...
2 Information mostly gleaned from Colin Maggs' The Bristol Port Railway & Pier and the Clifton Extension Railway, The Oakwood Press, 1975.
I'm pretty sure from looking at some maps that this is the gate that would have led to Prince's Lane, if it were still passable.
I didn't go inside, just shot through the gate with a steady hand. I have been in there, though, on one of the open day tours.
The acoustics are quite something. This is the traditional point on the Bristol Half Marathon where someone inevitably shouts "Oggy oggy oggy!" thus starting the familiar back-and-forth. Of course, it's closed to traffic on that morning, so you can actually hear yourselves shout.
There are no signs of the railway to be found between the gate and the nearest tunnel entrance further north, as you'd expect, really.
It's actually an electric kettle. I doubt it's contemporary with the railway :) Looks a bit more 1970s than 1870s to me.
I can't achieve the high vantage point of the next photo, and the sun direction wasn't exactly favourable, but I think this at least proves I'm in the right spot :D
I'm fairly sure I'm standing about where the train tracks used to be, facing the entrance to the station at the south platform end. To the left would have been the turntable for rotating the train onto the run-around loop to go back the way it came, and behind that the little stationmaster's house.
Interesting little sign of earlier civilisation. I don't see railings in any of the photos I've seen of Hotwells Station, though, so I can't really connect it with the station.
Having done even more research and a bit of eBay browsing, though, I ordered a postcard that might explain where these came from...
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 Babcock International Group do... things. According to their website, they're a "leading provider of critical, complex engineering services which support national defence, save lives and protect communities." That sounded a little euphemistic to me, and Wikipedia is a bit more revealing, calling them an "aerospace, defence and nuclear engineering services company". I have no idea what they get up to in Bower Ashton.
That's quite some hefty kit. I presume the nearer thing is a heat exchanger for the transformer. Certainly a different look from the last substation I remember snapping.
It's always a treat to find a new alleyway, especially when it seems to be leading in the right direction. I reckon we're going to emerge somewhere near the far end of Parklands Road. This also might be a handy shortcut if I ever want to come back to The Ashton from home...
Well, it doesn't seem to lead into the school, and presumably it leads somewhere...
The whole little area here seems to be called Park Farm, and the area is marked as Park Farm on some fairly old maps. By the looks of it there certainly used to be a Park Farm here, but I don't know if any of it remains farmland or if it's all just residential now.
I think some of it, on the far side of these houses, is now the little estate where the Bristol Wood Project lives, where I once saw some pipers practising, and I suppose some of it may have been turned into the allotments, which would make sense for farmland...
Maybe I'll have to go have a look at the front of these houses; I think I missed them on earlier walks
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...
Interesting to see a flatscreen TV left out in the traditional "please take this away for free" place, even if it is only a little Alba.
So I might have missed the deadline a bit, then. Just as well I don't own any land around here...
Opposite Country Gates, which is the rather aspirational name for the office block there.
Out of sight to my right is Ashton Park School, which accounts for quite a few things that look like roads on the map, but which aren't public and which I'm not going to wander down.
As usual around here, I want to go that way but there's no crossing and no pavement, so we'll head back through this little green and head for that bridge you can see that spans the left-hand lane here.
I didn't realise I'd buggered up the focus on this shot until I got home and saw it on the big screen. They can't all be winners...
I've always wondered what this wheel is for. It's part of the Gridiron's cleaning system. Water is drawn from North Entrance Lock through a sluice channel and could be diverted one way and another across the surface of the gridiron. I wasn't clear from my conversation with the lockkeeper whether this would open the sluice channel or was the control used to divert the water first to the left of this central point of the gridiron, then to the right, but it's definitely part of the cleaning mechanism.
He said he also used to have to go down the ladder and hose it all down after sluicing it out, and that he found the whole process quite fun!
This is about halfway along the Gridiron. You'd sluice water back and forth from this point to rinse the silt off the Gridiron as part of its regular maintenance. This was still being done until around the year 2000, when it apparently became more trouble/cost than it was worth for the dwindling number of boats using it.
According to the lockkeeper, the last time a boat was on the gridiron was around the year 2000. He thought it might have been either the PS Waverley—a still-running paddle steamer I'm dying to have a go on at some point!—or the MV Balmoral, another vintage excursion ship. He had a recollection of the Balmoral needing to free something that had got tangled around its propeller.
Before then, he remembered the ship Samuel Plimsoll being on the gridiron in 1998.
So, this is all that can be seen today of a 200-foot long, 38-foot wide grid of wood, I think—at first I figured it was metal, but Nick Howes posted a historic photo on Twitter where the grid itself certainly looks to be made of timber—hidden completely by a simple build-up of silt.
Up until the year 2000, it had been in use since some time in the 1890s, I think. Grace's guide's copy of the Institution of Civil Engineer's obituary of John McCurrich certainly attributes the construction of a gridiron to him while he was Docks Engineer for Bristol, and he held that post from 1890 until his death in 1899.
I didn't take many pictures on this quite long wander, partly because Lisa and I wandered across to Bedminster via Bower Ashton, which I've snapped quite a lot of on the last couple of walks, and also because we lost the light fairly quickly, though spending a half-hour drinking mulled wine in the Ashton might have had a little to do with that...
Before we left Hotwells I wanted to visit a door I'd heard about on Cornwallis Crescent and also take a little look at a couple of houses in Dowry Square to consider the 1960s regeneration of Hotwells.
Not the front door we were looking for, but I like the hand-carved digit at 9 Cornwallis Crescent.
I have snapped this section of Cornwallis Crescent before, but apparently only en bloc.
When it's three doors in one! Apparently this door has had this trompe-l'œil effect since the summer, but the vine was only recently cut back, which might explain why I've not noticed it before...
Favourite detail: the American Gothic style family portrait. (Though I'm guessing it depicts the husband and wife of the family, as opposed to father and daughter, like the original...)
Well, seeing as we're snapping details. Lisa pointed this one out. It's pretty damn big.
I've snapped this before, but I wanted to give it a bit of context. Peter Ware very much helped to save Dowry Square, as one of a group of "Newcomers" to the Hotwells area in the 1960s and 70s. Hotwells was basically a slum before then, with many of the buildings in a terrible state, including Dowry Square and Hope Square.
As I've recently been reading in Hotwells - Spa to Pantomime, these newcomers took their chances on a very dodgy area and decided to buy and do up a lot of the grand old houses that were almost ruins in some cases.
This early gentrification was important enough that John Boorman, of Excalibur fame made a BBC documentary about it called The Newcomers.)
It's currently set up as a set of separate serviced offices. If you're interested in buying the freehold, they're looking for offers in excess of £1m.
As well as being the former home of Master of Ceremonies of the Hot Well, William Pennington, it was for a while The Hotwells Nursery and School for Mothers. Later it looks like it turned into Social Services' Hotwells Day Nursery, if the footage in this BBC documentary, starting at around the 20-minute mark.
It was this notice that finally let me figure out that this strip of land was called Ashton Gate Depot and find out a bit more about it.
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...
This is a LeeSan LeeStrom LS200W Pump Out Station, I believe. It pumps things out of boats. You would probably rather I drew a veil over the details.
I love the way Spoke & Stringer's deli window with it predictably-hipster type choices and logo are somewhat put into perspective by their wonky big-arse OSB sign with PASTIES daubed on it.
There is a time for fancy marketing, and a time to just shout "GET YER PASTIES 'ERE" at the top of your signage.
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.
My friend Lisa texted me to see if I wanted to pop down and take a photo or two of the event she was taking part in: Santa SUP. SUP Bristol organise stand-up paddleboarding on the floating harbour, and their annual Santas-on-paddlboards event is quite the sight.
On the way there, I grabbed a historical photo I'd been wanting to recreate for a while of the shiny and new Cumberland Basin flyovers back in 1965, because I reckoned I could fit finding the same viewpoint into my outbound journey. Also, after having only used it on a wander for the very first time yesterday, I managed two crossings in the cross-harbour ferry today to get to the best locations for snapping the paddleboarders...
So, then, this wander is mostly a bunch of photos of paddleboarding Santas. Tis the season... Enjoy!
At this point they'd left me behind heading east up the harbour, so I decided to jump on the cross-harbour ferry to the inlet, grab a coffee and a pasty at Spoke and Stringer (their sign definitely worked on me!) and wait on the that side for their return, as knew they were heading widdershins around the harbour.
I took a moment to snap this little fella in the artificial reed bed between the inlet and Hannover Quay.
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.
Maybe if I'd got interested in this project before the university sold the place, I'd have been able to pop in and have a look around. Still, I can't blame them; when the estate was on the market in 2012 it was Bristol's most expensive house, valued at £5m, according to the Daily Mail.
That was for the main house and the old stables and lodge, which have been converted to the housing we're looking at. Given that by 2017, just a single one of the five aforementioned lateral apartments in the main manor house was on the market for £1.5, I think the developers probably did quite well...
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.
It's lovely backing paper, but a bit bare. Not so much to advertise in the current climate, I suppose.
Joseph Leech doesn't appear to have had a coat of arms, and it's not the University of Bristol's (they were another former owner), but I struck lucky with my third guess: the Wills family crest apparently features three martlets around a chevron, as on the right, and three wyverns, as on the left... Can't find anything that's exactly like this one, but them I'm not exactly au fait with heraldry.
George Wills, of the Wills Tobacco family, was Burwalls' owner after Joseph Leech.
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 think the whole of (admittedly-short) Albemarle Terrace had wreathes on the doors. Nice.
Raised section of the Metrobus route. I've been this way before on a Wander, but also, on a day when there weren't any buses, actually walked that ramp. It was fairly underwhelming.
Here's a working office that I'd heard of: V Cars are one of Bristol's biggest cab firms, and the only one whose phone number I have memorised. On my first trip in one, back in 1999 (in a differently-named, earlier incarnation, I think), the driver said to remember the number as "Christmas Day, Boxing Day, Boxing Day". Most (all?) central Bristol phone numbers were prefixed with a 9 back then, so you just needed to add 25, 26, 26...
There was even a cab dispatcher at work behind the window, from what I could see. It reminded me of my childhood, when my mum worked as a dispatcher at Radio Cars in Ilford.
I do at least appreciate the fact that Bristol City Timber has a traditional wooden front door.
I may have been speaking too soon when I said that earlier picture was the arse-end of nowhere. This is the delightful end of East Court, which I think is actually a public road and therefore on my list of roads to walk. Rarely have I been so unexcited to see the end of a cul-de-sac.
Okay, it's not very well-hidden, and it's not particularly treasure-y, either. I think, in hindsight, this was the most excruciatingly boring bit of the walk.
I thought from the map there might be a way across the line here, too, but it looks like it's all locked up.
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.
This sounded like a fragment of poetry to me. All Of Ending Bicycles, perhaps a work by Keats?
However, it just leads you onto a footpath at the edge of the playing fields I wandered across last time I was in the area. Still, it's nice to know where it goes.
It's quite a dramatic sign, colour wise. Given that it seems to be written in Sharpie on the lid of an old tub and drawing pinned to the post I imagine it's a temporary measure :D
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.