High Points in 2020

 "With what joy we welcomed 2020, and with what joy we shall say goodbye to it!" So wrote I in a Christmas letter to a friend. But despite the death, disease and disaster that have blighted our world, I feel very blessed in being able to look back on good times too. So, to end another year of blogging, here – quite literally – are some high points.

At the beginning of the March lockdown I climbed Coppet Hill, near Goodrich, from where there are lovely views of the River Wye. As we drove the 5½ miles from home, I recall wondering whether such excesses were really permitted. The worries soon passed.

A sunny Monday in May found me (appopriately) on May Hill – the first time I'd been up there. It turned out to be an interesting place, with ancient earthworks, cows with Swiss bells and memorable views of the Malverns and, nearer to home, the lofty spire of St Mary's Church in Ross-on-Wye. 

COVID having laid claim to our Irish holiday, we had a wonderful week exploring Dartmoor. Here I am on Haytor. It was great fun to climb, with a yawning chasm to leap over on the way up. (Well, that's the way I like to remember it.  In truth it may have been a little less dramatic.) 

One week later we were in North Devon. Here is the spectacular view from the Tarka Trail, looking down on Lynmouth, with the houses of Lynton just visible on the left. It's one of those views that stops you in your tracks. "Wow!"

In October I climbed Skirrid, three days before the first Welsh lockdown which cut me off from so many of my favourite hills.  Despite low-lying mist in the valleys, it was a memorable day and I congratulated myself on (for once) getting the timing right.

Five high points; five lovely memories.  That's that way I'd like to remember 2020.

Chicken Breasts with Smoked Salmon and Asparagus

In these worrying days of pandemic, one of life's special pleasures for us is preparing and eating fine food. A few weeks ago it was my birthday. I could have celebrated at a favourite Greek or Italian restaurant, but chose instead to stay home for a hitherto untried recipe from the hand of Master Chef Ann Long. 

Many years have passed since I last had the pleasure of dining at Ann's restaurant, but her recipes live on, thanks to her excellent book Ann Long's Dinner Party Book. I've already described one of Ann's recipes in this blog – Chicken Breasts cooked in Puff Pastry. 

My copy cost £12.95, back in 1988. Today you could pick up a new copy from Amazon for £3.27, or a second-hand one for as little as £1. Were I ever to lose mine, I'd willingly pay a lot more than that!

The easiest way to follow this recipe would undoubtedly be to get a copy of Ann's book, but I'll do my best to guide you through the steps. You'll need the following ingredients for each person:

1 skinned chicken breast
1 wafer-thin slice of salmon, about 4 inches square
2 small asparagus stems

And for the coating:

flour
fine breadcrumbs
1 egg

Brush a large sheet of clingfilm with water, lay a chicken breast on it, fold the clingfilm over the top, then beat the breast with a rolling pin until the chicken is about ¼ inch thick. Believe me, this is great fun, but don't get carried away and beat it too hard.  When you've finished, remove and discard the clingfilm.

Lay the salmon and asparagus on top of each chicken breast, then roll up from the asparagus end, tucking in the sides as you go.

It's at this point that I know I'll never make Master Chef – or indeed any sort of chef. I'm sure that Ann Long's looked exquisite; mine looked rather less tidy, especially when held together with cocktail sticks. If yours look like mine, don't worry! It's all going to work out fine.

It's now time to make a breadcrumb coating. You could simply buy some breadcrumbs (though not golden ones that are intended for fish) but it really isn't hard to make your own if you possess a food processor.  Two thick slices of bread in the top, wizz them for a while and - hay presto - perfect breadcrumbs. 

Break an egg into a bowl, add some flour and a little water, then wisk with a fork. I'm sure you can work out the quantities for youself.  Put the breadcrumbs in a second bowl.

Roll the breasts in the flour mixture...

... then in the breadcrumbs, and then in your hands to squeeze out the air. It's glouriously sticky, but very satisfying when the breasts are fully coated in breadcrumbs.   

Leave the coating to dry for at least an hour, then put a generous amount of oil in a frying pan and bring up to sizzling temperature. Cook for 8 minutes, turning regularly.

After removing the cocktail sticks, we served the chicken portions whole. Ann preferred to slice each portion into 5 wedges, and I think I know why.  As well as looking artistic, slicing ensures that no cocktail sticks remain hidden in the meat – an important consideration when ones guests are paying to dine. I had one stick lurking in mine, but had no-one to blame but myself. 

Cinderford's Linear Park, and a Cornish connexion

Cinderford's Linear Park is well known to residents of the Forest of Dean. It follows the course of the old Newnham - Cinderford branch line, which served some of the most important collieries in the area.  This walk follows the branch line, together with a track of the old Severn & Wye Railway.

Here I am at the beginning of the Linear Park, waiting for a train at Ruspridge Halt – a train that will never come.  The last one departed in 1958. The original station name board outlived the railway by many years, but mysteriously 'disappeared' about 5 years ago. The new one, as you'll see, isn't weathering too well.

I copied this map of the area's old railways from Jowett's Railway Atlas. The path follows the green line, running north from Ruspidge Halt, branches left just before the red line, and ends near the area marked as Churchway.

This model of a Great Western pannier tank and a couple of wagons has obviously seen better days. That's a shame and it surely deserves to be restored. Modellers will appreciate the time and effort that went into it.  

The Linear Park is becoming a wildlife and conservation area of some repute. Personally, I find it hard to work up tremendous enthusiasm for boggy marshes and ponds, though I imagine that a host of birds, small animals and creepy-crawlies will find them wonderful.  I must return in the Spring.

One line (indeed, one of many) that isn't shown on the Jowett map is the Crump Meadow Colliery Tramway. It crossed the Cinderford Branch here, on Letcher's Bridge... and now I have my Corish connexion. 

Click the map to enlarge it.

Edwin Marcus Letcher was born in Cornwall in 1816. He became the Bilson Staion Master and must have been quite a guy, for the nearby tramway bridge soon bore his name. A Google search revealed that his name also appears as secretary and collector of Cinderford Market Hall, secretary to the Bilson Gas Light & Coke Co, and that he went on to become the Great Western Railway's goods manager at Cinderford. 

Since moving to the Forest of Dean I've discovered several Cornish connexions. As the prosperity of Cornish copper and tin mines rose and slumped, then slumped still further, many mining families must have been drawn to the Forest in search of more secure employment. 

On with the walk. At Bilson North Junction (see first map) we joined the 'red' Severn & Wye Railway and headed up Bilson North Loop towards Drybrook Road Station.

Look closely at this photo and you'll hopefully be able to make out an old platform edge. This is all that remains of Cinderford's first railway station. If the Dean Forest Railway ever realise their ambitions, this may become their northern terminus.

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 train might arrive. The last one left in 1929. 

Before heading back to Ruspidge and civilisation, we made our way on forest tracks and part of the Wysis Way to the northern end of the Linear Park and Steam Mills Lake.

I searched the Internet in vain for the origin of this rather lovely lake. There were no previous workings here in coal mining days, so I presume that it was excavated simply to enhance the area and provide sport for local anglers. Rather lovely, really. The building on the far side is the new Cinderford Campus of Gloucester College.  What a long name!  In my day it would probably have been called Cinderford Tech.