My new patio

Many years ago, the father of one of my friends built himself a palatial new home.  Employing his great skills as a respected local architect, every feature was carefully designed to make optimum use of the plot.  As a final touch, he built a sun balcony on the north side of the house.  'Why,' I asked myself on many occasions, 'would you put a balcony where the sun never shines?'

The questionable skills of my friend's dad are not unique. Our home, which we bought 3½ years ago, came complete with a large patio, where we might sit out on balmy summer days, eat salads and sip refreshing, cool Sauvignon Blanc. There was only one problem; even on the longest of sun-soaked midsummer days the patio was in shadow from about 2pm.  So after a lot of thought, we — that is me, being the retired member of this partnership and consequently with time on my hands — marked out a new patio in the sunniest part of the garden and set to work, creating my own architectural masterpiece.

The stone was duly delivered — a kit of parts, reminiscent of a one of those Christmas cracker puzzles in which you have to piece together the bits to form a square... only this one was a circle.  I got some funny looks when I turned up at the builders' merchant to order 12 bags of sand and 2 of cement, but this girl was undeterred. And so, with frequent inspections and hints from S-, and the help of two instructive YouTube videos, I slowly set to work.

Here, at long last, is the result, complete with a shiny new table that I spotted on eBay. The old table was rectangular, but one really can't have a rectangular table on a round patio! It was also rather too large.

Last Monday evening, basking in the evening sunshine, we used the new patio for the first time. The Co-op was raided for chicken thighs, rocket (lots, 'cos we like that), things to stick on skewers, coleslaw and dips, and the pantry delivered of homemade bread, homegrown beetroot and a bottle of montepulciano. I fired up the chiminea and we settled down to 2½ hours of diet-busting, unhurried feasting.

Yes, the new patio is a great success.

Incidentally, I was going to title this post Christening the new patio until I discovered that, according to the Urban Dictionary, phrases such as christen the new car mean to have sex in it. Be assured, dear reader, that I have no plans to copulate on the patio... well not when I have the option of a Fern Ticket!

A Long Forest Walk – part two

The former treatise have I made, O loyal reader, of all that Angie began to do on her Long Walk until the time when she stopped for a well-earned rest and a picnic at Speculation — with apologies to St Luke (Acts 1.1) and Josephus (Against Apion). 

Reinvigorated, and with a good supply of refreshing orange juice, I asked S- to take me about a mile down the road to Cannop, from where I set out along the track of the former Severn & Wye Railway, in the direction of Parkend.

Cannop Ponds soon came into view. These were originally created to provide water for an ironworks in Parkend; now they are a haven for wildlife. The ponds are fed by Cannop Brook which, further upstream, is known as the Newerne and downstream becomes the Lyd. I wonder how many other watercourses change their name twice in just a few miles?

The photo below shows the popular picnic area between Cannop's two ponds. It's a place that's rather special to S- and me.  Back in 2012 we booked into a guest house in Ross-on-Wye and spent a few days looking around, wondering whether we might leave our native Cornwall and move to the Forest of Dean. It was here, at this picnic site, that we finally made our decision, drove home and put our little cottage on the market.  No regrets!

A glance back at the map of this walk reveals a sharp change of direction at Parkend.  This marks the spot where the Severn & Wye Railway's Coleford Branch once joined the 'main' line. Both are now pleasant paths for cycling and walking, but the Coleford one is less popular and hence a lot more peaceful. One imagines that the steady 1:30 incline for more than 3 miles is something of a disincentive to cyclists, though coming back down must be great fun.

Soon after leaving Parkend the faint course of an old tramroad can just about be made out on the left hand side. This was the Milkwall Tramroad, which predated the railway by several years and survived into the 1930's to serve Point Quarry.  This is the short tunnel that was constructed to carry the Coleford Branch over the tramroad at Point. After my brisk walk up from Parkend it was nice to wander into it and cool down a bit.

Point was also where I chose to rest for a while and drink my orange juice.

The next point of interest, about 10 minutes' walk beyond Point, is Darkhill Ironworks... or rather, what's left of the Ironworks. Here's a place that really made its mark during the Industrial Revolution and it's well worth stopping to read the helpful information boards. Most importantly, it was here that the Bessimer Process for making good, cheap steel, was perfected. Thus the age of STEEL began, a nearby plaque proudly proclaims.

Not far to go now.  After crossing a busy road at Milkwall, the line continues its relentless climb towards Coleford. Only in the last few hundred yards does the green and pleasant land of fields and a golf course give way to factories on one side, then houses on the other. 

Two railways once had their termini in Coleford but almost every sign of them has been obliterated. The one survivor is the old Great Western goods shed, which now houses the Coleford Railway Museum. Whilst on holiday, several years ago, I had a look round and impressed the curator, Mike Rees, with my knowledge of signalling practice. I've got connections, you see... and once learned, 'tis hard to forget.  Now how did it go....?

One ring on the block instrument: call attention of the signal box up the line.

3 bells, pause, then 1: is line clear for a passenger train?

Give the single-line token to the driver

Pull off the starter signal, then the advanced starter.

2 bells: train entering section.

Easy!!

A Long Forest Walk - part one

Now that Spring has sprung, I look forward to a 7-8 mile walk in the Forest of Dean every Thursday.  Last Thursday, however, was a little different as I tackled my longest one for many a long month — 11½ miles. Since it included a picnic stop, followed by short ride in a car (not included in the 11½ miles!) I'll describe it in two parts.

Nowhere on this walk was new to me and several bits have already appeared in my blogs. I chose to write this account, though, as it sums up, for me, the fascination, the history and the undying beauty of the Forest. I hope you enjoy the journey in words and photos, as perhaps will I when old, infirmed and in the mood to reminisce on times past.

As is usual on these occasions, I hitched a lift to my starting point; this time Harrow Hill in the northeast of the forest, from where I joined the Wysis Way and headed west.

Here I am, near the start, beside what's left of a railway bridge that once carried the line to Drybrook. Last time I came this way the undergrowth was daunting (to put it mildly) and may well be again when summer suns rejuvenate the brambles. Not the most photogenic spot, I admit, but I had been tempted to witter on about the odd history of said railway.  In kindness to my long-suffering readers, many of whom I count as friends, the temptation was resisted... for now, at least.

A short diversion from the Wysis Way brought me to Dam Green, once an opencast mine but now a haven for wildlife and anglers. I watched this family of Canada Geese for several minutes, fascinated by the way mum and dad kept their brood of goslings safely between them as they navigated their way around the lake. I recall that we used to do the same when introducing our kids to longish hikes — dad in the lead, children in between and mum at the rear, encouraging the stragglers... just like mummy(?) goose is doing for one little gosling, who's falling behind the pack. 

Back on the Wysis Way again, this time following the course of a tramway that once carried coal from Trafalgar Colliery. My pace slowed, as I've seen deer here in the past... but sadly not this time. There are mile upon mile of paths like this one in the forest – quiet and beautiful. Even in high summer it's unusual to see more than a couple of other walkers on this stretch.

A friend once commented that I must be very brave, wandering alone in so remote a spot.  I guess there's wisdom in their concern but, as I recently remarked to another friend, I refuse to be a slave to over-caution. If I felt unable to venture into such places, much of the joy of the forest would be lost to me and I would cease to be the person I am. 

On to Trafalgar Colliery — a good place to indulge my interest in the forest's industrial past.  Here's a 1923 map and a photo of how it once was, when 800 men and boys worked here.  The tramway nearest the top of the map, on the right hand side, is the one I walked along.

The winding gear for Trafalgar Colliery's two shaft is clearly visible above... and below is the scene today. The buildings and tramways have gone.  Trees and grass have triumphed, together with two standing stones to mark the old shafts. What a transformation!

If you look closely at the map you may spot a tunnel to the right of the quarry. I decided against fighting my way through the undergrowth for a closer look this time, but here's a photo of it that I took in December 2014. The tunnel linked the colliery to the delightfully named Strip And At It on the other side of the hill.

My last stop before joining S- for a picnic lunch was Mierystock bridge and tunnel. There are plans to open up the tunnel for cyclists and walkers, avoiding a dangerous road crossing. In preparation for this, four local residents successfully secured a lottery grant to clear the cutting on the other side of the hill. However, since that clearance work in 2008, nothing has happened. One imagines that the Forestry Commission, who filled in the 'dangerous' cutting with 30,000 tons of colliery waste in the first place, are not as enthusiastic as are the locals to see it reopened. One day, maybe.