Confusion in Lydford

Cornwall is a long way from home. Well, not that far compared to (say) Tim Peake's journey to the Space Station, but far enough.  At my age it's nice to break the journey... and anyway, I've always believed that a holiday begins when you leave home, not when you arrive at your destination.

So it was that S- and I dropped in at Lydford Gorge, in Devon. I think it's the fourth time we've been there, but this time there was a special connection for now we live but a few minutes' walk from the River Lyd — Gloucestershire's River Lyd, that is — and Lydford Gorge is (surprise, surprise) also on a River Lyd.

When we arrived it was raining heavily; surely a good sign that there would be plenty of water in the gorge. Looking decidedly unhappy, though, were a couple whose car had broken down in the car park. They'd called the AA and were assured that a man in a yellow van would be there "soon". That was 2½ hours ago. The AA had dispatched their guy to the wrong Lydford — Lydford in Somerset.

I didn't know there was a Lydford in Somerset and neither did the disgruntled couple but it's there, sure enough.  It's on the River.....  ah.... the River Brue!  Funny lot, those Somerset folk. (Actually, if you read the Wikipedia article, it all makes sense.)

White Lady Waterfall (pictured above) was looking as lovely as ever. At 90ft, it's the highest waterfall in the South West and gets its name from a ghostly white-robed lady who appears there from time to time. Honestly. I read it on the Countryfile website, so it must be true.

I began to regret the leaden skies as they rather put a damper on my photography. The river also looked ominously tame, compared with previous visits. There was no denying its beauty, though.

At several places along the gorge the footpath gets quite narrow and tricky. I wonder how many people have fallen in here and gone floating back to White Lady Falls? I hung on tightly and congratulated myself on donning walking boots.

Finally, near the top of the gorge, is the Devil's Cauldron. I've seen this as a raging torrent, but not this time. Perhaps the Devil was having a nap — confirmed by the fact that the rain had abated and the sun was breaking through the haze.

We made our way back to the car park, where a man with a yellow van was packing away his tools.

Neath: absolutely fabulous

I've never been to Neath before but, in my mind, associated it with its near neighbour, Port Talbot and the grime of the huge steel works.  In truth, Neath is a pleasant, clean town with some lovely shops, a great market... and a very friendly ukulele group.

Neath Ukuleles came along to our Ukulele Festival in the Forest of Dean on 28th May and put on a great performance. Last Saturday was our chance to return the compliment.  Only a few of us could make it, but we all had a great time.

Here is the lunchtime Mass Busk in Neath Town Centre. I'm the one in the bright yellow shirt; other members of the Ukes of Azzard are hiding somewhere around that tree. For me, this photo sums up the joy of ukulele playing — singing and having fun with lovely people who instantly become friends. Why did I wait so long before learning to play? Too busy working, I guess.

Earlier in the day, our little group had their own 40 minute slot.  Few in number we may have been, but several people said that we harmonised beautifully. Here we are, enthusiastically knocking out the 12-bar blues classic Johnny B Goode. The photo is a bit blurred as I 'acquired' it (thanks, guys) from a video on Neath Ukulele's website. I rather like it as it features our very own Gerry (orange shirt) in full swing!

Half way through the afternoon I slipped away and found S--, laden with goodies from the market. We wanted to sample some of the delights of rural Neath, so scanned the 1:25000 Ordinance Survey map on my phone for a good spot.  My eyes settled on Melincourt Waterfall, so we headed up the Vale of Neath to take a look. We were not disappointed.

The World of Waterfalls website describes it as "one of the unsung waterfalls in an area of South Wales known as Waterfall Country."  Again, the photo isn't great but in my enthusiasm to pack ukulele and song book, I forgot the camera, so this one was snapped on my smartphone.

I definitely plan to return to this area – with my camera! – as there is much to explore. Indeed, it may well warrant a couple of night in a B&B. Then there's the whole of the Western Brecon Beacons to explore too... so perhaps I'll make it a week.

For this all-too-short visit, we contented ourselves with a short walk from the Waterfall car park, across the River Neath to a disused canal that I'd spotted on the map. Only after returning home did I discover it to be the Neath Canal and that both upstream and downstream of our chosen spot a preservation society is hard at work, restoring it to working order.  Indeed, if we'd had the time to walk a little further, we would have seen the new Ynysbwllog Aqueduct. Next time!

Having enjoyed several enjoyable holidays on English canals, I wish the Neath and Tennant Canals Trust well. It would be lovely, one day, to hire a narrow boat in Neath and potter up the navigation to Glynneath. I hope though, that the wildlife survives the transformation as I spent much of my time there watching dozens of vivid blue butterflies dart in and out of the reeds.  Back home, I tried to identify them, from memory, on Google Image and quickly found a likely candidate. Hoping for a name, I clicked the image... A dark blue butterfly, it informed me. Yep, that's the one!