When we went to Gwent (and Cardiff)

Once again, it was the time of year when the Severn tunnel is closed for maintenance - very important - and whoever it is who runs the railways these days fails to put on an even half-decent replacement coach service between Cardiff and Bristol. Not wanting the Northerner to have to return home via Gloucester and, per chance, Swindon, I drove him to and from work on the days it was possible for me to do it - four in all.

Although eight hours is a long day out, I wanted to stay in Wales if I could, to reduce costs and my carbon footprint, but one day was forecast to be full of heavy rain and thunderstorms, and another over 30°C, so on those days I made the two round trips, regretting my decision the second day when it took me two and a half hours to cover the 36 miles from home to his workplace on Newport Road in extreme heat. 

The other two days were hot but not oppressively so, so Cwtch and I pored over walk books and websites and found two places in nearby Gwent for us to visit.

First stop, the Sirhowy valley, in the next valley from where Son the Younger used to live, so full of familiar skylines. The outward leg of our circular walk started just south-west of Crosskeys and took us along a disused railtrack, the former signal box now seeing service as a toilet. 

high above the River Sirhowy

sycamore and whitethorn

foxglove

It's an easy walk through the woods, though given the number of little streams crossing the path, I imagine it must be muddy in places when it's not summer.

There were some quite steep steps to climb at the point where our route turned back on itself, which caused my knees to grumble a bit, but we made it. 

Cwmfelinfach

Returning along a higher path, there were some lovely views along the valley to where the Sirhowy meets the River Ebbw. I was thrilled to hear both a cuckoo and a curlew.

non-native fiddleneck

enough hemlock water dropwort to poison the entire population of the British Isles

one of many self-seeded alders lining the path

broad-leaved marsh orchid

marsh valerian

The worst bit of the walk was right at the end when our route took us down an extremely steep, stony path to our starting point, but again I managed to negotiate it without doing myself any damage. I think I might try the longer walk through Sirhowy Country Park next time, as it's definitely worth a revisit.

Our second destination in Gwent was Wentwood , formerly ancient woodland that was part of Chepstow Castle's hunting grounds and is now mostly conifer plantation (though the long and laborious job of replanting native species has started). I was following a walk I'd found online that would take me to the Curley Oak, reputed to be between five hundred and a thousand years old.

                                                   

distant view of England adrift across the Severn

Our route took us past not one but two Bronze Age round barrows in a truly lovely spot.

Fallow deer slots

The track through the woods was still quite muddy in places, despite the warm and (mainly) dry summer weather we've been having.

heath-spotted orchid

honeysuckle

yellow pimpernel

Our route to the oak relied heavily on waymark posts, rather than giving estimated distances between instructions, which was a shame as many of them were no longer in place. Much of the time I had to guess whether a path was the right one, and we did get a bit lost, but not in that trackless-middle-of-the-wildwood way; it was more 'well, I'm pretty sure the car park is back in that direction so I'll take this path for now and head left when I get a chance'. I made a few of my own waymarks for the return leg. 

Eventually - having been distracted by its fence and missed it altogether - we looped back around and reached the Curley Oak. I have to say, it looks rather older than five hundred years to me.

As is the custom with ancient trees, people had left little gifts for it, the most striking of which were limpet shells. I'd picked up a bit of blue pottery earlier on our route, so I left that.

I felt a bit of a pang standing there, as Curly was my father's old nickname and the name his grandchildren called him. I'd have liked to have learnt about this tree thirty years ago, when he was still strong and I could have walked to see it with him. But in any event, it was a stunning high point for a walk.

Since I was in the area with time to spare, I did stop off in Cardiff to visit another memorable tree, this one a London Plane near Roath Park that's in the process of eating a Victorian pillar box. 

And I also got to while away a couple of hours in a favourite spot in Llandaff, namely the wild bit of the graveyard in the Cathedral precinct. Even under the trees it was hot, though, so Cwtch and I headed down to the River Taff where there was a bit of a breeze.

Cwtch is still too scared of water to chase the ducks, thankfully.

It must have been during the 1980s that I last stood in this spot. Much water over the weir since then. 

Llandaff Cathedral and the Senghenydd Mining Memorial

And so to Cardiff to take Son the Elder to an audition.  I lived in Cardiff, briefly, 20-odd years ago, and my younger daughter was born there.  It also happens to be my ex-husband's former home city, and although I have been back and forward over the bridge regularly these last four and a half years, this was to be my first trip to Llandaff since. But nothing daunted - time to overlay all those bad memories with some good ones.  

So, after dropping the budding thespian off, I parked in Pontcanna, in the street where I used to live, and walked my swain over Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields to Llandaff village, where we had coffee and flapjack before visiting the Cathdral.  It was early but already sweltering, so the Cathedral felt like a very comfortable place to be.  And it was great to catch up with some old friends.  There are Arts and Crafts favourites, like Rossetti's triptych 'The Seed of David', Morris & Co and John Piper stained glass,  and the lovely Della Robbia ceramic panels depicting Edward Burne Jones' 'The Six Days of Creation'. (Unfortunately the side chapel in which the latter live was roped off, but you can just glimpse them here, the far side of this rather fetching knight's tomb, still with some original paint, look.)

Today, however, it was the vistas that struck me, perhaps because the great West door was open, bringing the outside in.  This is looking east towards Jacob Epstein's Majestas (Christ in Majesty) which was commissioned to commemorate the ... well, resurrection seems the most appropriate word ... of the Cathedral after it was partially destroyed during the Cardiff blitz. (Only Coventry Cathedral sustained more damage during the war.) 

 This is the rear view of the Majestas looking towards the West Door - and look, there's reflected heart on the arch, which is mighty pleasing and which I am taking to be A Sign.  

This is a view through a Norman arch of the Lady Chapel, from the other side of the High Altar.  

And this is the Lady Chapel's beautiful painted roof.

Llandaff can trace its line of bishops back to c500AD, which is most impressive.  This mediaeval memento mori is postively modern by comparison, but I find myself drawn also to the contemporary, particularly the bold way in which the Cathedral was restored in the 1950s following the bombing.

Here's one of my favourite post-war parts, the Welch Regiment Memorial Chapel.  I love the red lettering on the walls of places around the world where the regiment has been stationed ...

   ... but best of all are the copper panels set into the floor, which were engraved by my former brother-in-law. I like to think of them as the shining footprints of the dead ... except that sadly, only officers are commemorated thus.

Then it was time to walk into town along the banks of the River Taff.  The first part of this walk takes us through an old part of the cemetry, where the grass is allowed to grow tall in the summer.  It was almost like being under water in parts. 

Out here nature was in competition with all the artists who have work inside the Cathedral, and giving a good account of itself too. 

Talking of water, the Taff looked quite inviting for once, and we did see one or two local sirens bathing.  

As we were whiling away time until the auditions ended by slaking our thirst in a hostelry, we were treated to lusty renditions of some mining songs by a choir who were raising money for the Welsh National Mining Memorial, which will pay tribute to the legacy of coal mining and commemorate the 8000 people who died in Welsh mines and the many more who succumbed to mining-related illnesses.  The statue in a garden of remembrance is due to be unveiled on 14th October near the site of the former colliery at Senghenydd.  This date marks the 100th anniversary of the UK's worst ever mining disaster in which 440 men and boys died. 

Oh but it did my heart good to hear some socialist songs in these politically dark days, and for such an excellent cause also.  Money is still needed to pay for a national memorial pathway so if the spirit moves you, please call 02920 830444/5 or email senghen.heritage@btconnect.com to make a donation.