Sunny Ullapool

Not too long ago I returned from a sun-blessed fortnight in Scotland – so sunny at times that even the residents could scarcely believe it.

Here's the view from our holiday cottage window on August 31st, the evening that we arrived.  It has been a two day journey from Gloucestershire, with an overnight stop in Penrith and a very good pub meal at the Boot & Shoe in Grayrig. 

The following morning I opened the bedroom curtains to this lovely view of a tranquil Loch Broom.  I called S--, "Get out of bed now and see this!"... and together we sat by the window in awe-struck silence.  I don't pretend to be an expert photographer, but sometimes I fluke a good one, so I'm going to print this and hang it on a wall...

... or maybe this one, 'enhanced' using the Google Photo app. (Click either of them to enlarge.) Do such enhancements class as cheating in the eyes of professionals, I wonder?

After the long drive of the previous two days, neither of us felt like wandering too far, so chose to climb Meall Mór, which in Gaelic means big round hill. All the locals I spoke to called it Ullapool Hill, but perhaps that was because they knew I was English.

Here's a view from near the summit, with the ferry departing Ullapool for isle of Lewis.  If I come this way again (and I really would like to) I rather fancy a few days on Lewis.

Turning the camera to the left, Loch Broom stretches a further 7 miles inland from Ullapool. 

This is Shore Street in Ullapool, where stood our delightful holiday cottage, with its magnificent views of the Loch.

During the week two cruise ships visited Ullapool. This one, the Amadea, was on a round-Britain cruise. One of its tenders is approaching to bring another boat-load of cruisers ashore, where some will board coaches for sight-seeing tours, and others head for Ullapool's famous fish & chip shop.  I hope they enjoyed themselves for, as you can see, the bright skies of the last few days had departed.

It was still cloudy on the following day, as I took a stroll along the shoreline, where the Ullapool River empties into Loch Broom.  Would the sunny weather return?  Indeed it would... but I'll blog about that next time.

Battered in Bathampton; Befuddled in Bath

My well-thumbed little book The Cotswolds: 40 Town and Country Walks has one called 'Backwater Bath' that looked ideal for a warm summer's day. It's a long time since I last saw Bath, so what could be better than a 3¾ mile walk, with a picnic on Bathampton Downs and an afternoon exploring the delights of Regency Bath?

Rather than park in the city, I had the brilliant idea of using my Just Park app to search out a quiet parking space in Bathampton, and found a perfect one – £7 for a whole day's parking on someone's driveway.

The parking place was near the right hand edge of this map. To pick up the recommended route I would have to walk along the A36, turn left opposite the yellow road and pass the pumping station (Ppg Sta). I had a better idea. Why not just walk a few yards, turn left up the first footpath, by the church, along a field boundary and join the the 'book' route at the bottom left of this map?

The path started well but soon became muddy. Clearly this was a route favoured by the cattle of Bathhampton Downs. By now I was regretting wearing sandals (but what else might one wear on a blisteringly hot summer's day?) but foolishly decided to press on, doing my best to skirt around the really muddy bits.  

Then disaster struck. I slipped and fell, grazing one of my legs on a branch and cutting my right arm for good measure. To make matters worse, S- lost both sandals in the mud and had to dig them out by hand. Defeated and very muddy, we returned to the main road and used our supply of water to remove the worst of the mud and inspect the damage.  Mine wasn't a pretty sight.

However, after the application of copious amounts of water and two sticking plasters, spirits (sort of) revived, so we walked along the A36 to the recommended footpath and climbed the hill onto the Downs.

And there, at the top of the hill and enjoying the shade, were the mud-producing cattle.  A thousand curses on your miserable hooves!

It's surprising how beneficial some well-directed cursing can be. The remaining mud on and in my sandals was gradually drying and I was beginning to feel pleased that we hadn't turned tail and gone home after the earlier disaster.  The sun was shining and the world felt good.

High on Bathampton Downs stands Sham Castle. As you can see, it's not a castle at all but just a row of turrets, joined by screen walls. It was built by one Ralph Allen, who wished to make the hillside look more attractive when viewed from the city. Unwittingly, he also created a lovely spot to relax in the shade and eat a picnic.

The ground in front of the 'castle' slopes towards the city; hence the 'keystone' effect in my photo, making the whole structure appear to lean backwards.  When I returned home I attempted to correct the distortion with my PhotoPlus program.  I'm not sure which one I prefer.

Turning the camera in the opposite direction, here's the view of the city.

After Sham Castle came an easy walk downhill to the city, past the palatial residences of Great Pulteney Street. Rightmove has a nice one on the books, a snip at £4,625,000.

I'm now going to confess my deplorable ignorance of Bath and can well imagine my friends shaking their heads in mournful despair. As I walked down Great Pulteney Street I wondered where the bridge over the River Avon - clearly marked on my map - might be. Befuddled is what I was, for there was no sign of it.

cc-by-sa/2.0 - © John Winder - geograph.org.uk/p/5195700

It was only as I walked beside the shops in this photo, studying my OS map, that I realised I was standing over the River Avon!  And, oh look, some steps.  Down I went.

What a wonderful place; so much to explore and so little time to do it. I resolved that, one day in the not too distant future I would definitely return for a day in this fair city – and doubtless to write a blog post or eight about it.  

For now, though, I abandoned my earlier plans to venture further into the city. It was the curious looks from passers by that probably did it, as I was eyed up and down – sticking plasters on leg and arm, mud-splattered feet and shoes...  "Poor old woman," I could almost hear them saying. "At that age, once they start falling they just get worse, you know. Mind's probably going as well."  

The route back to Bathampton lay along the Kennet & Avon Canal. It was in September 2003 that I was last here, enjoying an amazing canal boat holiday that took us as far east as Hungerford.  I can tell you that there's no finer way of arriving in Bath than by canal boat, but something tells me that I'll probably never do it again.  Instead, other canal adventures are on the horizon but they, like my exploration of Bath City, must wait for another day.

Contrary to my 40 Town and Country Walks book, this one turned out to be 4¾ miles long, 

plus an extra ½ mile for the muddy false start

Over the boulders to Lancaut

This Ordnance Survey Pathfinder Guide has been a good source of walks over the years. I bought my copy many years before moving to the Forest of Dean, so it doubtless played its part in my falling in love with the area and choosing to retire here in 2012.

One walk that I've done a couple of times in the past, but never blogged about, goes from Chepstow to the 'lost' village of Lancaut. Time to rectify that deficiency! 

The walk begins in Chepstow, crossing the Old Wye Bridge into England. Until 1988 this bridge carried the main A48 road to Gloucester and was a notorious bottleneck. Now, thankfully, the A48 traffic speeds over a new bridge a little further downstream.

I didn't take a photo of the bridge this time but here's me, trying to look elegant in 2014, with the Old Bridge in the background. 

The bridge's lamps were bought from Sheffield City Council and installed in 1969. I think they're rather lovely, though I'm surprised that permission was granted for them to be added to a Grade One listed structure. "Well done," whoever it was who was able to cut through the bureaucratic red tape.

Here are two views from the bridge, the first looking upstream with Chepstow Castle on the left, the second downstream with the new A48 bridge in the background.

After crossing the Old Bridge our route followed the Offa's Dyke path for a while. When I passed this way in 2021 this lookout tower was surrounded with scaffolding.  Depending on which website one consults, it's either of Anglo-Saxon origin or was built in the 16th century.

The path to Lancaut eventually leaves the Offa's Dyke path and descends to the River Wye through Lancaut Nature Reserve. For most of its length the walk through the Nature Reserve is easy-going, until one encounters this...

High above the path lies the disused Woodcroft Quarry, now a favourite haunt of rock climbers. In its active days, though, the quarry company chose to dispose some of its unwanted debris by rolling it over the cliff towards the river... and here is lies.

My OS Walks book assures me that the best route is marked by yellow painted arrows, but they have long since disappeared.  However, I'm pleased to report that I made it safely to the other side, which I attribute to decades of practice, skipping over rocks on the beaches of Newquay.

The sheer cliff on the left is Wintor's Leap. According to local legend, during the Civil War Royalist Sir John Wintor was being hotly pursued by Parliamentary Forces.  He escaped their grasp by leaping off this cliff, landing in the river below and swimming downstream to Chepstow Castle. The fate of his horse is unrecorded.  

The little 12th century church of  St James in Lancaut lost its roof and its box pews soon after its closure in 1865. Today it's well worth a visit, not least for the fine view of the river from its main door.

The village of Lancaut was never large, but by 1931 the population had dwindled to a mere 10 people. Today, apart from some farm buildings, little remains of the village, though I did find this old lime kiln as I walked up the steep path behind the old church.

Finally, here's the view from the top of Wintor's Leap. Near here we rejoined the Offa's Dyke path and returned to Chepstow.

4½ miles

Newent's canal that became a railway and will be a canal again

Once upon a time the Hereford & Gloucestershire canal ran past the little town of Newent.  The canal had opened between Gloucester and Ledbury in 1798, at the height of 'canal mania', was extended to Hereford in 1845 and then, having cost far more that its enthusiastic promotors expected, immediately tried to sell itself to a railway company. 

In 1881 the Great Western Railway took over the moribund operation and made plans to convert the Gloucester-Newent section to a railway – the Gloucester & Ledbury – that opened in 1885. 79 years later it too closed, a victim of the infamous Beeching Axe.

In 1983 a society was formed with the aim of restoring the old canal. Since a large length had been obliterated by the railway and the rest had descended into an extreme state of disrepair, this was going to be a huge undertaking that would take decades to accomplish.  Many a doubting Thomas would surely have dismissed the society's plans as an over-ambitious pipe dream, but preservation societies like this one clearly don't understand the meaning of 'impossible'.  Moreover, they have the backing of the Canal & River Trust, who are responsible for maintaining our existing network and have seen over 200 miles of derelict canals returned to use in the last two decades. 

I'd heard that the preservation society had been active around Newent, so went to investigate. First, I walked along the Geopark Way, hoping to get to the mouth of Oxenhall Tunnel (near Holder's Farm on the map above). I have a fascination for tunnels and this one had the bonus of an arched structure nearby called "Leggers' Rest" where, according to the society's website, a gang of men, retained to assist boats through the tunnel, would await their next job. 

The first part of the Geopark Way was easy walking.  I saw a restored aqueduct and plenty of evidence of the canal channel having been dredged.  The highlight, however, was the restored House Lock (top left on my first two maps) and its lovely lockkeeper's cottage.  In a hundred years' time I'd love to come back, live in that cottage and sell ice creams to passing canal boaters!

Beyond House Lock there's a lovely stretch of path beside a large lake – Furnace Pond – but after this the path deteriorates, with muddy stretches and rampant undergrowth.

By the time I reached Cold Harbour Lane Bridge I was battling 10ft high undergrowth. Would I ever make it to the tunnel?

NO. A sign just beyond the bridge declared that there was no public access beyond that point, so my exploration of Legger's Rest will have to wait for the hard-working preservation society volunteers to clear a way.

I made my way back towards Newent, partly by road to avoid the mud and weeds, then set off to find the old railway station.  This is what it looked like in its heyday...

Photo: Wikipedia

... and this is what it looks like in 2024, though only after preservation society members had expended an enormous amount of effort to remove 50 years' worth of rubbish and undergrowth.

Here the canal restorers have a bit of a problem as the old canal lies buried about 6 feet beneath the track bed. In order to cross the B4125, west of the station, canal boats will have to be raised to track level, then higher again, before being lowered at the other side.  I imagine that three locks would do the job, but it seems that the associated earthworks would be rather too intrusive. According to Wikipedia —

In 2019 they therefore proposed the use of an inclined plane, using a cradle running on rails to raise boats from the canal level up to the station, with a level section between the platforms, followed by another incline to reach the height required to cross the road and another incline to return boats to the level of the canal on the other side.

Now that should be impressive!  Though I doubt that I'll live to see it. 

Photo: The Forester