The tail end of Storm Gareth was still marching about, but we are nothing if not intrepid, me, Ted and the lad, so we set off for The Dark Side (of Bristol).
We were heading for a place we'd never visited, namely Troopers Hill, which looms high over the River Avon in the east of the city.
It's now a nature reserve, but in the past it's been mined and quarried, and housed a copper smelting works.
From the top of the hill there are extensive views over the centre and south of the city ...
... although the wild weather wasn't conducive to seeing them.
This is looking south-west, over St Annes in the immediate foreground, and (eventually) Dundry.
This is looking west towards the centre of the city. You can see the course of the River Avon by the shape of the tree-covered hill. Right in the centre is a misty spire belonging to St Mary Redcliffe. (You'll have to take my word for it.)
Looking east along the Avon valley
Since it was so bitter on top of the hill, and raining too, we decided to wander down through the workings, where it might be a little more sheltered.
Troopers Hill has had a number of names over the years. It was known as Harris Hill, Ghosthills and Trubody's Hill on 17th century maps.
'Ghosthills' is believed possibly to have been a local pronunciation for Gorsehills. Likewise, Troopers Hill could be a corruption of Trubody's Hill ...
... or a folk memory of its alleged role during the Civil Wars, when the Parliamentary Army, under the command of Sir Thomas Fairfax, camped there prior to the siege of Bristol in 1645. (It's less than a three mile ride from Wickham Court.)
The hill's pennant sandstone was quarried and used to build many local buildings; also, less predictably, St Peter's Church in Stow Bardolph, Norfolk.
It was also mined for fire clay and coal, being home to at least six mines out of the 400+ that formed the Kingswood coal field.
There was also a lot of industry down by the Avon (in the centre of this photo) at Crews Hole.
In the 18th century copper was brought in from Devon and Cornwall and smelted with zinc ore from the Mendips to make brass. Many of the brass products were exported to Africa to be bartered for slaves as part of the 'triangular trade' in which Bristol played such a pivotal role.
I'm glad the hill is a nature reserve now. It's good to see scrub, including gorse, growing in what is an inner city area. And to know that rare mining bees are continuing the tradition of digging into this hill.
We were enjoying exploring, although we did decide that that the path down to Crews Hole was altogether too muddy and slithery for me to risk going down with my track record.
I haven't found out what this stone - a marker? - is for yet.
We intend to come back again for a more extensive exploration when the weather is more clement.
Border collies are intelligent dogs. Ted's area of special interest is the English Civil Wars, so as we were once more in the Stapleton area of Bristol, we decided to put the Brexit omnishambles behind us and visit nearby Wickham Court, which has a connection with Old Ironsides himself, Oliver Cromwell.
Walking down Wickham Glen is like entering into Narnia, which, at the start of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, was enduring its own civil war.
Ted has a lamentable lack of respect for literature.
We crossed Wickham Bridge again ...
... but this time climbed the lane that led away from the river and behind the allotments.
It felt dark today, like the light had gone out.
Wickham Court is not the ancestral home of Heydon and Boleyn families since the 15th century, and definitely wasn't the backdrop to King Henry VIII's courtship of the enchanting Anne Boleyn, oh no; that's another Wickham Court in Kent.
This Wickham Court is reputedly where Oliver Cromwell held a council of war with General Sir Thomas Fairfax in 1645, on the eve of the 11th September attack on Bristol, which resulted in weeks of fighting, hundreds of dead and the end of one of the longest sieges of the Civil Wars.
The house itself does a nice line in curly-handled window catches.
Hang on, I thought Cromwell cancelled Christmas?
(Or was that Alan Rickman?)
We climbed onto the hill behind the Court. On the skyline, the Church of the Holy Trinity ...
... and, higher and farther away, the mast on Purdown.
As we descended to the river through the woods, my thoughts returned to another civil war, and the country being driven off a cliff by the Tories.
The lack of certainty is unsettling. It felt like even the trees were watching and waiting.
Another sunny, frosty morning in Stapleton. I decided to take a wander down by the River Frome.
So it was down Cut Throat Lane again ...
... and past Colston's School, with its carving on the gatepost of a bishop's mitre, for this once was the Bishop's Palace.
I'd hoped to get down to the river via Fry's Close, which runs around the back of the school, but it was plastered with keep out signs, so I went down Colston's Hill instead and doubled back along the boundary wall of what is presumably part of the school grounds.
There was a good, clear view through the trees of the weirs ...
... although the sun was so low and bright, it was hard to see who was about up ahead. (I had my trusty Ted with me, though.)
Our progress was slow, partly because the aforementioned dog had to pee on everything, and also because I had to take photos. It's much the same impulse, I decided. Just another way of saying I WUZ YER.
The Frome has a sensible concrete walkway along this particular stretch.
We opted for the unsensible muddy track, and I was reminded of how all the rivers of North Bristol - the Frome, the Trym and the Avon - had to cut gorges in stone at the end of the Ice Age in order to reach their destination.
This spot is called Black Rocks.
Instead of early 20th century picnickers, there were some women in neon lycra being hectored into moving.
One of the few times thanks to the gods of arthritis seemed to be in order.
We were now up by Wickham Bridge, which is variously described as mediaeval and substantially rebuilt in the 17th century.
One thing's for sure, the river crossing is much quieter these days than it used to be.
We wandered upstream.
On the far side of the allotments I could see Wickham Court, where Oliver Cromwell famously held a meeting with General Sir Thomas Fairfax on the eve of the New Model Army's attack on Bristol on 11th September 1645.
No time to go up there today, though. I crossed back over the Frome via the road bridge ...
... and headed up the evocatively named School Lane.
Even back up on the main road, between gaps in the traffic, you could easily imagine yourself in a very close past.
Looking east along the Avon valley
