Mille jours avec Duo

One of the joys of going abroad is having a go at speaking a bit of the language. Sadly, they didn't teach any foreign languages in my secondary modern school, but over the years I've tried to make good that deficiency in my education. Greek was tough, and I didn't progress much beyond sas efcharistó (thank you) but for France and Germany the Reader's Digest came to my aid with sets of cassettes that I played over and over again as I travelled to and from work. 

Those cassettes certainly gave me a grounding in French and German, enabling me to greet people, buy food and railway tickets, and ask for simple directions. I well remember taking a cable car ride in Austria and going into the mountain-top cafe. Ahead of me at the counter, an Englishman was trying to make himself understood by speaking loudly in English. When my turn came, I smiled and proudly said something like, "Zwei Apfelstrudel, ein Bier und einen Kaffee bitte."

However, despite such successes, those cassettes did little to help me engage in casual conversation. So back in 2019 I resolved to use some of my time in retirement to become reasonably fluent in French.  I briefly tried Linguaphone audio CDs but finally (thanks to my brother) settled on the Duolingo smartphone app. Since then, and after a brief break during a holiday where there was no Internet, I've clocked up 1000 consecutive days of lessons.

Here are some screenshots from this morning's Duolingo lesson...

Using a UK smartphone keyboard, it's not easy to include the French accents. Duo accepts this and I'm very pleased not to have to bother with them. 

The first of these asks me to type what I hear and the second requires me to speak.  Notice that Duolingo, being an American app, translates bonbons as 'candy'. Thankfully, though, it will accept 'sweets' and also allows us English to use 'town' for 'city', 'football' for 'soccer', etc.  However, I had no option but to accept American English for mon portefeuille est dans mon sac à main, which to me translates as 'my purse is in my handbag.' "No," says Duo, "it's 'my wallet is in my purse.'" That conjures up a very strange image indeed!

Long ago I tired of Duolingo's advertisements and subscribed at about £45 every 6 months. (It's priced in dollars, so fluctuates a bit with the exchange rate.) That's fairly expensive, but has been an incentive to spend longer learning each day, thus speeding my progress. Now, when I tune in to a French radio station or listen to one of Duolingo's podcasts, I'm beginning to pick out phrases and sense what they're talking about. After a lifetime of understanding little save my own language, that indeed is progress.

Tintern

Since taking this photo in 1969 the trees have grown, 
obscuring this view of the Abbey

I clearly remember the day I first saw the ruins of Tintern Abbey. It was early on a Sunday morning in the Spring of 1969, before we were even engaged to be married. We were travelling from Cornwall to Lancashire for a week's holiday in a Pontins holiday camp. Being good God-fearing folk, we'd both promised our parents that we'd have single rooms... though there's much that one may get up to in a single bed!

Anyway, in those days the M5 motorway was incomplete, which raised the prospect driving the notoriously congested A38 between Bristol and Strensham Services on the M5/M50 junction. Instead, we came up with the idea of crossing the recently-opened Severn Bridge, driving up the Wye Valley to Ross-on-Wye, then traversing the M50 to get us back on course.

The glorious scenery of the Wye Valley left us spellbound, beginning an enduring love affair with the Wye that would draw us back time and time again until, 43 years later, we made our home just a few miles away.

Here's an up-to-date view of Tintern Abbey, photographed at the beginning of another walk from my book Lower Wye Rambles, which promised "a fairly strenuous walk, visiting reminders of a rich industrial past."

Beginning our long ascent from the Wye Valley, we were treated to this splendid view of Tintern. The Wireworks Bridge (centre of photo) is part of that "rich industrial past" and featured in a post last May about my walk along the Wye Valley Greenway. (Click this link to see it.) 

On the opposite side of the path to that view stands the shell of St Mary's Church, which was burnt out in 1977.  Unfortunately, thanks to the sun shining on my smartphone display, I've mis-aimed and lopped off the top of the church tower. I shall have to return.

The Victorian church was built on the site of a medieval chapel, which may have been built for Cistercian monks in need of a spiritual break from life in Tintern Abbey.

With warm sunshine, heavy rucksacks, and a long climb ahead of us, thoughts soon turned to lunch. 

This would also have been a lovely spot for a picnic.  The pond used to supply water to wire mills in the Angidy valley.

This was Tintern Abbey Ironworks, where iron was refined for those wire mills. With my inexpert eye, making any sense of the ruins wasn't easy, but I think I've photographed it from the left side of the information board illustration (below).

From the ironworks the path continued to climb, with a brief respite at the hamlet of Fairoak, until after 2½ miles we were 700ft above our starting point at Tintern Abbey. That's hardly mountain climbing, but it was nice, soon after, to have a rest in the churchyard of St Mary's Church, Penterry. 

I wish that I'd read the Wikipedia article on Penterry before setting out on this walk, for the church has a fascinating history. It's most noticeable feature is that it's in the middle of nowhere - not a house in sight. Tragically, the community that it was built to serve was wiped out by the Black Death in the 14th century and a nearby grove of trees marks the site of a plague burial pit. 

 

From Penterry Church our path began its long descent to Tintern. The walk book suggested a short diversion up to a hill fort, but the prospect of ice creams at Abbey Mill was too hard to resist and we decided to save the fort for another day.

Whitebrook Ramble

Nine years after moving to the Forest of Dean, it's become something of a challenge to find new walks close to home.  Thankfully, a few weeks ago an elderly friend, whose rambling days are sadly over, gave me several books of local walks, including one called Lower Wye Rambles, produced by members of the Ramblers Association. 

I like the book's short Forward by Janet Street-Porter.  She makes the important point that these locally produced walking guides can really bring our countryside to life.  Large glossy walking books are better suited to life on a coffee table, rather than stuffed into a rucksack.

Our chosen walk from the book began at Bigsweir Bridge – one of the few crossing points on this section of the River Wye. 

When Bigsweir Bridge opened in 1827 one had to pay at this toll house to cross.  Now, in common with its big cousins that span the River Severn, we may all pass freely between England and Wales. The traffic lights are necessary as the bridge is only wide enough for one vehicle. 

The first part of the walk followed the course of an old railway line that once ran between Monmouth and Chepstow.

Here's a sure sign that the line was once part of the mighty Great Western Railway. I've doubtless blogged about similar bits of ironwork before, but I do find these relics of a bygone age fascinating... and I like to show off a bit.

This U-shaped Bridge Rail was used by I.K.Brunel on his famous broad-gauge railway lines. Unlike modern lines, the sleepers ran longitudinally beneath the rail. When the Great Western eventually opted for more conventional track, they were left with huge quantities of bridge rail, some of which ended its days as fence posts. 

Bridge Rail near Didcot

Enough of this irrelevant rambling!  I'm supposed to be describing a walk along the banks of the beautiful River Wye. 

Spring sunshine made for pleasant walking. Before long, off came my coat, which I rolled up and stuffed in my rucksack. Thoughts then turned to picnic lunch, which we spent here.  According to Google, the building on the opposite bank is the Florence Tea Shop (temporarily closed). 

Until looking at this photo, I thought I was doing quite well at losing weight and regaining my former elegant profile (8lb lost since January). Now I'm not so sure.

The path climbed steeply out of the Wye valley, then descended to White Brook, which we followed for  almost ¾ mile. I walked this section in March 2018 and was especially interested in the ruins of an old paper mill, since I once worked for a company that supplied china clay to the paper industry. (Click this link to see the post, which includes a photo of a slimmer Angie.) 

Here I am, looking confused in the middle of White Brook.  For reasons that are not easy to explain, I was expecting a bridge. 

After crossing White Brook the path climbs steeply again, this time through Margaret Wood Nature Reserve. The Gwent Wildlife Trust's website has this to say about Margaret Wood:

"Sitting within the Wye Valley Area of Outstanding Beauty, these atmospheric woods feel old and weathered. Dense green mosses and lichens blanket the gnarled branches and ferns sprout from the thick leaf litter.

"Spring is a great time to visit when a mass of native wild daffodils carpet the open slopes below the woodland. The Wye Valley is a stronghold for this species, absent from most other areas of Wales."

 

More daffodils, this time beside a lane that descends towards Whitebrook. 

Having descended, we crossed another brook, then climbed again. Here's the view from the top, looking back towards our picnic spot. 

This circuit was only 5 miles long but, thanks to those three climbs, felt somewhat longer.  It was a great walk, though, and one to which I will doubtless return.