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.