Venerable trees and old stone bridges

I was hoping to get out for a few modest jaunts around the West Country this summer, but no sooner did the holidays begin than life kicked off with an entirely different game plan, and it's looking like I'll be staying more local that I'd envisaged. 

I did get to do a walk I'd been planning for years, which is the Leigh Woods veteran tree walk - in fact, I actually set out to do it some years back with my son, Samuel, and my oldest friend, Liz, but we chatted so much, we missed every waymark and ended up meandering around the middle of the wood, noticing very little. This time around, I found most of them, I think, although the instructions appear to have been written before a separate cycling trail was established in 2011, which makes them a bit confusing in places. But here they are:

veteran oak pollard

veteran yew

veteran oak

wild service trees, an indicator of ancient woodland

monolith beech, the branches having been removed because of a fungus called Ustulina

layering yew

a possibly veteran oak in a line of four, apparently, though all looking a lot younger than lots of other oaks we passed

this might have been another one in days of yore, when the walk was devised

veteran lime coppard on the rampart of Stokeleigh camp

re-pollarded veteran oak

There were quite a few trees we passed that seemed to me rather more interesting, by which I mean gnarly than some of the trees on this list. 

birch, and below some oaks

Stokeleigh camp

remnant wood pasture

another recent tree victim, presumably of climate breakdown

Cwtch in the woods

The other ne-to-us walk Cwtch and I did was the stretch of the River Frome that runs from  where we walk in Winterbourne to Frenchay Bridge, just above Snuff Mills - a sort of filling-in-the-gap type walk. One day I'd like to walk the Frome from its source near Little Sodbury to where it joins in the River Avon in central Bristol, but right now a piecemeal approach will have to do.   

There were lots of stone stiles ...

and stone bridges, the first of which was Frenchay Bridge.

Almost immediately our route took us away from the river briefly, past a house once owned by Edward 'Squire' Higgins, a wealthy gentleman by day and a highwayman, horse thief, house-breaker and murderer by night. He was transported to America in 1754, where he promptly robbed a house and paid for his return passage within three months, settling in what was then called Great House in Frenchay in 1763. He was finally hanged for his crimes in Carmarthen in 1767.

Grove House, formerly Great House

We then cut back down to the Frome and walked in its company as far as Cleeve Bridge ... 

... before then detouring away briefly.

An electricity substation masquerading as the earliest known branch of McDonalds. (It was actually a 19th century dovecote.)

Back down on the Frome we passed under the A4174 ... 

... whereupon I encountered one of the Frome's tributaries, the Ham Brook, which gave its name to the nearby village of Hambrook ...

... and the 17th century packhorse bridge that crosses it (here partially obscured by a fallen tree). 

The bridge by the former Hambrook Mill beyond the M4

plums

The bridge on Moorend Road

The last half a mile or so to our finish point, at the unnamed bridge near Mill Steps, was along road; once there, the gap was filled and it was a question of retracing our steps back to Frenchay Bridge, a lovely deep dive through the summer woods.

Frost and mist on the Frome

It was a misty and frosty morning, so Cwtch and I decided to have a wander down by the River Frome in Stapleton and Eastville.

Church of the Holy Trinity, Stapleton

First we headed down to the lake in Eastville Park. I had a hankering to see a heron ...  

... but the lake was heron-free and the fish breathed easy.

my favourite beech tree

I was a  bit surprised to see a tree in the water on the opposite side of the lake, assuming Storm Darragh, which was quite a while ago now, had brought it down, but when I got home, I read that it had fallen during peace time, so to speak, between Darragh and Storm Eowyn. As the water fowl are currently looking for nesting sites, it's going to stay put the time being.

purple jelly disc fungi

As the path on the other side of the lake was closed, I made my way back along a higher path through trees, from which there was a close-up view of the felled hornbeam. It's always sad to see a big tree downed.

There were several pairs of crows sitting about doing not a lot really ... 

... and near the favourite beech, three cormorants hanging out at the top of a tree. I took a video of the pair's courtship, but I can't seem to post videos right now, so here's a still instead. 

Back on the path, another look at the fallen tree, and ooh look, now there's four cormies.

magpie

Before we walked back up C*lston Hill, we made a quick detour to Wickham Bridge.

See, I'm a good girl and I don't chase bikes

lamp post base

Then it was back up through the lane with its ancient, buttressed walls ... 

... and past the church to the where our car was waiting for us. 

The next morning was much more dull, but we had unfinished business in Eastville park, namely, a walk to the hitherto-unvisited-by-us cemetery Ridgeway Park, which is situated at its edge.

Looking over to Purdown mast and Holy Trinity

Ridgeway Park Cemetery was established as a non-municipal cemetery in 1887, and was apparently wound up in 1949 ... 

... although according to this grave, James and Rosina Bywater, father and mother of Edna, who died aged 7 in 1910, joined her in 1963 and 1975 respectively. 

Now, don't you tread on those crocuses!

At the edge of the cemetery, it becomes wood with gravestones, much like its larger counterpart, Arnos Vale, in the south of the city. 

If we'd entered the cemetery through the main gates, we'd have seen that dogs are supposed to go in there, but having accessed it from the park, we missed the signs. In any case, Cwtch was well-behaved and respectful, unlike some of the vegetation. 

Tree eats headstone

Back down by the lake, the crows were still sitting about, wondering when it's time to start nest-refurbishing, but there was only one cormorant in the tree. Apparently they nest in Avon Gorge, so maybe the others were carrying out reconnaissance there.