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. 

Walking at Ashton Court and Ashton Hill

The last few days have brought the opportunity to walk at Ashton Court and Ashton Hill, which has been a real treat.  First, Ashton Court early on Sunday morning. 

'Freedom of Speech' by Hugo Farmer

I've never been inside the Mansion. It's owned by Bristol City Council, and many of the rooms are in a derelict condition. In common with the other mansions built of golden stone dotted around Bristol, it has an ugly connection with the slave trade, two young women from slaving families having married, in 1692 and 1757 respectively, into the Smyth family who owned the mansion, with both bringing some of that wealth with them in the form of dowries.

damage from Storm Darragh 

It was a hazy morning, but fine and quite warm. We headed for nearby Church Wood, where bluebell shoots are forcing their way through the remaining leaf litter ...

... which is what you would expect this time of year. I was a bit surprised to see this red campion, though - it's very early.

I was fascinated by the ancient trees, some still living and some dead, though no less magnificent for that.

We sat on a fallen tree for a while and watched the ravens nesting in the Scots pines.

This tree clearly fell a long time ago, but bluebells still sprout between its roots.

Back at the mansion, there was a misty view of the Victorian terraces of Clifton Wood and Cabot Tower ...

... plus this tower of avocado on toast for breakfast in the cafe, which proved more than I could eat ...

... but was definitely not something a Cwtch could safely polish off.

A few days later Cwtch and I were back in the same area, this time at Ashton Hill, which used to be part of the Tyntesfield estate, where we met some of my school friends for a get-together. 

I hadn't walked here before, but I had driven around the nearby roads with Son the Actor at silly o'clock in the morning, a fair few years ago now, when we were trying to find the drop-off point for the filming of a scene from Poldark in which he'd been cast as an extra. (For some reason the little neon cards they use to indicate a filming location failed in their purpose, as we weren't the only ones lost.) We found it in the end, and I'd always intended to return for a walk, but had never got around to it till now.   

The scene in question was the opening scene of the first episode in the first season, when our hero is in Virginia, having been dragooned into the British army and sent to fight in the American War of Independence in a deal struck to avoid execution for smuggling. This location was chosen to represent America on account of its stand of redwood trees, despite the fact sequoia are native to California.

 

Studying the information board

It's hard to look around you properly and socialise - at least, I find it difficult to walk and talk and pay attention to my surroundings at the same time - so I'm going to have to go back again for a proper wander about. Nevertheless, I did spot some nice views through the bare branches, and some impressive old trees.

.

And of course, even though they are a bit distracting, you can't beat the company of old friends, two of whom I've known since primary school, and one since nursery. (The other two are of much later acquaintance, dating only from secondary school - in fact, I barely know them.)