Friday 1 December 2023

French Reflections

Almost three months have passed since I returned from a fortnight in France.  In the past I've promptly posted reflections on my holidays, so this one's long overdue.  It got off to a shaky start when all UK flights were cancelled due to a failure in the Air Traffic computer system, but we finally flew into Toulouse, one day late, on August 29th. 

The following morning we picked up our hire car and motored south - not directly via fasts roads, but by a meandering route on quiet, toll-free roads, stopping frequently to take in the sights, sharing the driving, enjoying French cuisine and trying out my French on unsuspecting café owners (who seemed determined to try out their English). The speed limit on most French roads is a leisurely 50mph (80km/h) which definitely helped me adjust to a gentler pace of life.  

We had booked a smart-looking gîte, with lovely mountain views, in Roquefixade, about 50 miles north of the Spanish border. Here I am, getting acclimatised with a glass of le vin français (of course).  

Most of the houses in Roquefixade nestle beneath a high cliff, topped by the ruins of an ancient castle.  It's a very quiet place, with no shops, which was a big disappointment.  On previous visits to France, one of the great delights has been going to the local boulangerie every morning for croissants and a baguette, then returning to our gîte for breakfast.  It's a wonderful way to start the day!

However, what Roquefixade lacked in commerce it certainly made up for in splendid countryside and well-signposted walks.





While we were enjoying the delights of France, Great Britain was enjoying (enduring?) a record-breaking heatwave.  I followed the Met Office forecast with interest, noting that daytime temperatures in Lydney were the same as ours, and higher at night. 

Looking for somewhere a degree or two cooler, we took a walk in a nearby forest that seemed oddly similar to the Forest of Dean. In this photo I may look like a real cool lady but, believe me, the appearance is deceptive. 


I've mentioned before on this blog that I've long regretted that my Secondary Modern school didn't teach foreign languages; that was reserved for the Grammar School kids. Of course, I may have hated learning French, but I'd love to have had the chance to find out.

A little over 4 years ago, I decided to do something about this deficiency in my education by learning French with Duolingo. I'm proud to say that, immediately prior to this holiday, I'd clocked up 1492 consecutive days on the app, and had held a place in the Diamond League (Duolingo's highest) for 68 weeks.  Angie was indeed a star pupil!


But  how would it all work out with 'real' French people?  Well, I'm pleased to say that I managed quite well, confidently ordering food in shops and restaurants, chatting with les serveurs and occasionally asking for directions. 

What I still lacked, though, was the skill to engage in 'small talk', such as on the day when I eventually found a boulangerie. Several people were standing around, chatting and waiting for a fresh batch of baguettes to emerge from the oven. They tried to draw me into the conversation, but to no avail. "Je suis désolé, mais je ne vous comprends pas," I confessed.  O well... don't give up yet on Duolingo!

However, there were funny moments, such as when I was looking for somewhere in Foix that sold fresh fish.
"Ils vendent même des cachalots là-bas," said one helpful guy, pointing up the road and giggling.  I mis-heard him. 
"Mais je ne veux pas une casserole (But I don't want a saucepan)!" I replied.  He burst out laughing... and that was the day I learned a new French word for a whale - cachalot.  

Sunday 15 October 2023

Nelson and the Forest of Dean

My last post, "The Trafalgar Walk", set me wondering why a colliery in the Forest of Dean might be named after Horatio Nelson's famous sea victory.  A trawl through the Internet failed to come up with an answer, so I'm suggesting one of my own. If I'm wrong then perhaps someone will be kind enough to correct me.  Here goes...

It's hard for us to imagine the enormous surge in national pride that followed Nelson's defeat of the French and Spanish navies at Trafalgar in 1805.  Not only did it confirm Britain's naval supremacy, it also thwarted for ever Napoleon's plans to expand his empire by invading Britain.  

37 years later, in 1842, Cornelius Brain was granted permission for his colliery, but work didn't start for another 18 years.  My guess is that Mr Brain needed to raise money for his new venture, and what better way than to tap into the nation's pride by naming it Trafalgar? In my homeland of Cornwall, copper and tin mines were often given names to encourage investors - Wheel Prosper, Wheel Fortune... I  wonder whether it actually made any difference?

However, Trafalgar Colliery isn't the only link with Nelson in the Forest of Dean. In 1802 Nelson visited the Forest to assess its ability to provide timber for shipbuilding. I was amazed to discover that 6000 trees were required to build Nelson's flagship, HMS Victory. So Nelson's fleet of 27 ships at Trafalgar would have required the felling of some 160,000 trees. Wow!  Nelson estimated that the Forest of Dean had the potential to grow 920,000 oak trees, which would produce 9,200 loads of ship timber every year. But there was a huge problem; the forest was, in Nelson's opinion, being grossly mis-managed. He wrote:

"The state of the forest at this moment is deplorable... Vast droves of hogs are allowed to go into the woods in the autumn, and if any fortunate acorn escapes their search and takes root, flocks of sheep are allowed to go into the Forest and they bite off the tender shoots."

Nelson also took a dim view of the Forest's Free Miners, accusing them of taking Crown Land for themselves: 

"A sett of people called forest free miners... consider themselves as having a right to dig for coal in any part they please."

How satisfying it is that, despite Nelson's protestations, 121 years later oak trees, free miners and sheep still proliferate in the Forest. So do the hogs (bore), but that's another story.

The government took Nelson's report seriously, and in 1808 passed The Forest of Dean (Timber) Act, paving the way for the planting of 11,000 acres of trees.


This HMS Victory Plaque, commemorates an oak tree that was planted in 1808.  In 2004 the tree was felled and its wood used to refurbish part of HMS Victory, in preparation for the bicentennial celebrations of Trafalgar. 


To mark that bicentennial year a grove of 200 oak trees were planted nearby. Here's me, trying (unsuccessfully) to look casual,  with a couple of 'Nelson' oak trees behind me.

At about the same time a whole avenue of oak trees was planted on the track that leads to Nelson Grove. Were he around, I hope that Nelson would be pleased with their progress... despite the sheep and hogs!



Thursday 5 October 2023

The Trafalgar Walk

Many a month has passed since last I blogged here. I confess to completely losing the desire to write this stuff, but a few friends have been kind enough to say that they're missing my posts... so here I am again.  Whether I shall succeed in matching my previous output remains to be seen.  My last post ended with the words, "For my next post I'm planning to take in the other end of Mierystock (or Mirystock) Tunnel, on one of my favourite forest walks."  If you've been patiently awaiting that post, your wait is over!

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Regular visitors to Chez Angie rarely have to wait long before being cajoled into experiencing one of my favourite forest rambles ― a circular walk from Speculation carpark, taking in Meirystock tunnel, the remains of Trafalgar mine, the site of a tiny railway station in the middle of nowhere and the very strange Trafalgar Arch. Every part of this walk has appeared in this blog before, but never in a single post... so here we go.


This rather nondescript place is Speculation carpark, which takes its name from a colliery that once existed here abouts. I haven't found any photos of it, but it's clearly marked on old maps; already 'disused' by the 1880's.

From here our path heads north along the course of the old railway line that once ran through Lydbrook to a junction with the Monmouth to Chepstow line at Stowfield. One of the lovely things about walking in the Forest of Dean is that most of these old lines have been turned into very pleasant footpaths. There'll be plenty of those on this ramble.


Before long, we come to the elliptically-shaped southern portal of Meirystock Tunnel, here viewed through Meirystock Bridge. As mentioned in my last post, there are ambitious plans to reopen the tunnel, though at the present rate of progress, I doubt that I'll live to see it.

Our route crosses the bridge, passing between slag heaps that may have come from Meirystock Colliery, though they seem rather small.  Over the centuries many small coal mines have come and gone, so perhaps these are much older than Meirystock, which closed in1959.


Skipping along a bit, we come to the site of Trafalgar Colliery.  Here's a photo of it in operational days...


... and this is what it looks like now. The two stones mark the site of two shafts; the ones beneath the winding gear in the old photo, perhaps?



This splendid plaque to Sir Francis Brain has appeared quite recently; I don't recall seeing it before taking this photo last May.



On one side of the colliery site is a tunnel mouth.  It's appeared on this blog before (here). Its gloomy bore linked Trafalgar to the delightfully named Strip and At It colliery on the other side of the hill.



Trafalgar Colliery was served by a tramway, and later by a long siding off the Cinderford line. Both are shown to be operational on this map dated 1888-1913.


Here's the course of that tramway.  A few years ago Forestry England carried out a lot of tree felling in this area, turning the path into a mud bath but, as you can see, it soon recovered its charm. Such are the joys of rambling in a working forest. 


Moving along a little from the previous map brings us to the site of Drybrook Road Station. The tramway we've been following is at the top of the map.


In the best traditions of stations named 'road', Drybrook Road Station was nowhere near Drybrook, and accessible only on rough forest tracks. I'm told that it only really existed as a place for trains from Lydney to reverse on their way to Lydbrook Junction.  Here's little me on a winter's day in 2014, wondering when the next passenger train might arrive. The last one left in 1929, after which the line only carried mineral traffic.


This photo, looking east towards Cinderford, was taken in the mid 1950s, presumably after closure of the line to Cinderford.


And here's roughly the same view in 2023. The station line ran to the left of the tree in the centre of my photo, whilst the broad cycle track follows the line that used to curve to the right.


Inspired by something I read on the Internet, I spent some time battling trees and undergrowth in the hope of finding remnants of the old station platform, but to no avail.

Heading down the track in the opposite direction, we soon come to Trafalgar Arch - truly a bridge to nowhere. Trafalgar Colliery was to the right of my first photo and it seems that there was a real danger of its slag tips encroaching upon the railway track. Hence, the 'bridge' might either have been designed as a buttress against those tips, or intended to carry a tramway to new tips on the other side of the line. 


One clue that it was probably an elaborate buttress is to be found on the west side (below). If you look carefully, you'll see that the arch brickwork has been left unfinished, which would make it much easier to lengthen the bridge as the slag tips grew.  In the event, they didn't grow and Trafalgar Colliery closed in 1925.


A little way west of Trafalgar Arch was Serridge Junction, where our line to Speculation, Lydbrook and Stowfield diverged from the one to Lydney. 


Fallen trees slow our progress, but I had no difficulty getting through. For less hardy (or more sensible) souls there's an easier path slightly to the right.


Finally, emerging from the trees, and only a few hundred yards from Speculation, Forestry England have been busy felling trees.  And at my feet... 


... a sole surviving railway chair, evidence that this tranquil spot was once home to a mighty industry, providing employment for hundreds of people.  




3.6 miles

 

Wednesday 3 May 2023

A Ramble around Brierley

Once upon a long time ago a truck, carrying a piano, was making its way along the road between The Pludds and Brierley. It came down the hill and round this bend with undue haste and the piano fell off.  We may suppose that the piano was never quite the same again, and ever since then the site of this catastrophe has been known as 'Piano Corner'. 

Our short ramble began on the left of this photo, where there's room to park several cars.  From there, a path runs beside Greathough Brook which, since 2018, has been the site of the Forest of Dean's very own bever enclosure.  This ambitious project got off to a shaky start when one of the original bevers caught an infectious disease, then a replacement died. However, judging by the obvious amount of bever activity in the valley, the present pair appear to be living happily. 


When the enclosure was first created it looked rather unsightly, but after 5 years it's blending in nicely. As well as keeping inquisitive folk like me at bay, the fence is boar-proof. 


Bevers are great tree-fellers.  This activity looks fresh, so presumably the residents are alive and well. 




This just has to be a bever dam.  According to the helpful notice (above) bevers dam the stream when the water flow is low - which presumably happens frequently during the summer - to provide a habitat to their liking. 


On the opposite side of the path lie the remains of the Favourite Free Mine - one of dozens of Free Mines that once existed in the Forest. My walk book Exploring Historic Dean mentions that there was once a carving here of St Piran, the patron saint of Cornish Miners.


It was created by Vanilla Beer in 1976 but had deteriorated badly when Exploring Historic Dean was published in 2009. I could find no trace of it


This little bridge once carried the Severn & Wye Railway over a much older tramroad. Both have now passed into history, but the railway line has become a lovely cycle track and walkway. Turning right would have taken us down to Lydbrook, but we wanted to go left.  Unfortunately, in the 1970s the Forestry Commission decided (for safety reasons) to fill in the steep-sided cutting that led to Mierystock Tunnel with 30,000 tonnes of colliery waste, rather than erect a safety fence.  Consequently, the cycle track now diverts to cross the busy A4136 on the brow of a hill - hardly the safest of arrangements. 

www.forgottenrelics.co.uk/tunnels/mierystock.html

Back in 2005 these fine gentlemen decided to do something about it, securing a lottery grant to clear the cutting.  The work was completed in 2008 and hopes must have been high that Mierystock Tunnel would soon reopen.  Unfortunately, since then there has been little progress, though - according to the Mierystock Tunnel Society's Facebook page - funding is now coming in and Forest England are lending their support. They certainly have my support too, though I doubt that there much of use that this old woman can contribute.


I thought it would be fun to explore the cutting, so made my way along the old track bed, as far as this fence.  It would, of course, would have been highly irresponsible to continue, would it not?


Well perhaps if I had passed through the fence, then that would explain how I might have taken this photo... but I'm admitting to nothing!

Back on the trail, we crossed the busy A4136 and made our way to this rather lovely unnamed pond. It's not marked on old Ordinance Survey maps, so I presume that it was formed when the coal mine over Mierystock Tunnel was cleared.



Beside the pond there's an impressive memorial to a mining disaster that had a happy ending. Back in 1949 miners in Waterloo Colliery accidentally broke into some old flooded mine workings. The water burst into their own mine, trapping 188 men and the colliery cat.  Thankfully, every one of them was rescued.




After scrambling up a bank at the end of the pond, a broad track took us back to Brierley, where we recrossed the A4136. From there, we followed a lovely woodland path back down to the bever enclosure and Piano Corner.


For a walk of just 3 miles, this one certainly had plenty to see. For my next post I'm planning to take in the other end of Mierystock (or Mirystock) Tunnel, on one of my favourite forest walks.