Druids, a urinal and frost on the Frome

I usually make promises to myself and promptly forget them, but the one about trying to walk somewhere new at least once a month through the winter, even if it's just somewhere in Bristol, I have remembered; not only that, I've exceeded my goal, as I've walked to two new - well, newish - places in the last month.  

First, the Bristol suburb of St George, in the east of the city. I parked next to St George's Park, which I don't think I'd been to before, though it's hard to be sure, as it reminds me very much of nearby Eastville Park, which I definitely did visit as a child. 

After walking through the park, I headed for Troopers Hill, but detoured slightly on the way in order to walk along Marling Road, where, for a couple of years, as a very small child, I learnt to ride, thanks to two elderly women who lived in our street but who kept a stable of ponies across the city. The lock-ups just visible through the gate in the photo below occupy the site of one of the stable blocks. I can still remember some of the ponies' names: Chloe, Penny, Buttons, Dinky, Bambi, Oberon, Bubbles, Aramis ... 

Before I got to Troopers Hill, I accidentally got locked in at some allotments, through which I thought (mistakenly) that l could access the hill. Luckily, my incarceration didn't last long, and I did see some quite picturesque sheds.

please don't make me go there!

Cwtch was keen to go down the track into Crews Hole, but it looked steep and slippery to me, so I promised her we'd go there next summer.

It wasn't the first time I'd been to Troopers Hill, but it was a much brighter, clearer day than my previous visit, so I took a few minutes to enjoy the view of the Avon valley and the centre of the city in the distance. 

We made our way along a couple of footpaths and then emerged into Avonview Cemetery, which doesn't actually have a view of the river, at least not while there's (still) leaves on the trees, but which was nevertheless quite beautiful in the November sun.

This is the grave of Henry Hodge, who died aged 65 in 1912. It was, it tells us, 'erected by the officers and members of the Bristol and West of England United Ancient Order of Druids, in recognition of faithful services rendered for 30 years as District Secretary.' Even Druids need administrators, it seems.

A cast-iron Victorian urinal, uncomfortably close to the chapel and bearing - on the inside - the legend 'Please adjust your dress before leaving'. 

Back at the entrance to the park, I noticed a plaque commemorating the pub and florist just over the road, the Elizabeth Shaw chocolate factory, and one Bob Hope - yes, that one - who was born in London and lived briefly in Bristol, on nearby Clouds Hill Avenue, before emigrating to the United States with his parents at the age of four.

My second walk took me to Winterbourne, and down the footpath to Huckford viaduct. I've been there a few times this year, but the prospect of getting to the hill fort at Frenchay always lures me downstream; this time I headed north towards Frampton Cotterel.

Strange how trees you walked past without noticing in summer are suddenly stunning in early winter

It was a frosty morning, which are just rare enough on the edge of a southern city to bring out the child in me who thinks it a bit magical. Even better, the sky had just enough cloud in it to make it interesting, and the sun was bright but not so high that all the ice had melted.

Our walk took us past fields on the opposite bank of the River Frome where I went riding for a couple of years as a teenager. And yes, I can still remember some of the ponies' names: Musket, two Cognacs (one bay, one skewbald), (Puffing) Billy, Jamie, Buster, Treacle, etc ...

Our walk came to an end when we got to a wooded area near Watley's End. The path by the river was blocked by a fallen tree, which meant we had to take a higher path through the wood. After about twenty minutes of scrambling up steep muddy slopes in my wellies, I remembered I'd have to slither back down again, and decided that maybe that was enough for one day. The Frome is definitely best walked in the summer.

Mist rising from a little stream in the wood ... 

... and from the Frome

A foliage-bombed kissing gate

The Frome encroaching on part of the path

The path back out of the valley

Elsewhere is a state of mind

We've been walking out on the fields these last few months, and through the Small Dark Wood of the Mind, and around the Field of the Hollowing Oak. Much of the time the weather has been dreary, but there have been days of great beauty, which always lift light-deprived spirits. 

It was mid-autumn when I last wrote about this precious place, and there were still some days of sunshine and colour to come.

The hollowing oak, 24th October 2024 and ...

... 15th November 2024

Out on the fields, looking across to Henbury ...

... and walking up the far side of Far Field, 17th November 2024

Field Maple, 26th November 2024

There was also a little early snow on 21st November,  when it was still autumn, which was a bit strange ...

... and rather more days when it was stormy. We risked it, Cwtch and I ... 

... and spent quite a large part of at least one walk sheltering from a sharp hailstorm under the hollowing oak, which didn't really have enough leaves left to be fit for purpose. 

There was a strange day of mist blowing up the Severn at the end of the year ... 

... days of frost, which made everything the colour of a hand-tinted daguerreotype ... 

... and foggy days when the oak tree seemed to be the only thing pinning the world in place.

Storm Darragh seemed to cause relatively little damage, but Storm Éowyn caused some flooding out on the development site and on the golf course, and downed a couple of trees. 

There was even a sunrise one day, though the field of the hollowing oak faces north-west, so it comes up behind it.

As always, I've had excellent walking companions ... 

... who've been fully engaged with nature and what they can see around them, such as ... 

various fungi and mould

Green- and gold finches; a roe deer; crow; badger (dead, alas); and badger, fox, roe deer and muntjac prints, plus ...

 ... buzzards!

... a raven!

... a baby yew in the Small Dark Wood of the Mind!

... signs of spring!

... and marcescence!

'Mar- what?' I hear you say.

'Marcescence': the phenomenon where some trees keep their leaves through winter, rather than shedding them. I learnt the word just a few weeks ago, from a Goodwill Librarian post on Facebook that my cousin in New Jersey had shared. I'd noticed the phenomenon, of course, but its technical term had evaded me for all my life. Then, as so often happens with words, it popped up again, days later, in one of poet Clare Shaw's writing hours.

It's good to learn the scientific names of things (though these days, remembering them is something else altogether). I love the two sets of twin oaklings in the field, and have long been intrigued by the fact that despite sharing what must be almost the same conditions, and being of a similar size, the right-hand twin of each pair prefers to keep its clothes on, while the one on the left strips off with alacrity. I'd assumed this was down to the necessary contrariness of being a twin and not wanting to dress the same ... but maybe not.

The development is still pretty much restricted to the Skylarks Field - now Challenger Way - and the common, which continues to be suburbanised. 

The goat willow at the bus stop

Charlton Common

We're resigned to the eventual loss of all the fields here to housing, though we grieve them, as we knew it was going to happen before we ever started walking here. And as a city, and society, we need more houses. The loss of the most of the Common as a wild and overgrown refuge for nature is harder to bear, as it was one of the few places the local wildlife could live undisturbed. A local councillor promised years ago that only paths could be cut through it, to compensate for the loss of the fields to walk in; this hasn't proved to be the case. 

Also promised was the retention of the Field of the Hollowing Oak as part of a 'green corridor for wildlife' - which is, of course, a horrible idea, confining wildlife to a 'corridor', how dare we? - but it was good to know it would be safe and able to continue to beautiful process of rewilding that it's been undergoing since it stopped being a practice field for the golf club. Until I walked into it a few days ago. 

I asked the tractor driver what was happening, and he said the field was being turned back into a practice field for golfers. I said it wasn't the golf club's land. He said they'd rented it for five years. I said it was supposed to be a green corridor, and he said I don't know where you got that from, and I said a local councillor (yes, the same one), and didn't the golf club think wildlife was under enough pressure around here as it was, with the building of Brabazon? And he put a lugubrious look on his face and said it is what it is, and I resisted the temptation to smack it, but only just.

The Northerner went one further and emailed the club, and got an answer saying: 

 

1.  We are leasing from YTL not airbus over an agreed period of up to 5 years. 

2. We are aware that a public right of way traverses the field, and we are consulting with South Gloucestershire Council to ascertain the actual course of the path and to weather this is open access land.  The reason we are going to use this as a practice area temporarily is to accommodate plans for other parts of the golf course.   

3. This field has been a practice ground for the course in the past with the agreement of airbus. 

4. The only Public access is on the footpath not the field as we understand it.   

5. Working with South Gloucestershire we will clearly demarcate a public access path and take the necessary precautions to satisfy health & safety regulations. 

6. We fully appreciate the points you make about the 'little Oasis of Nature' and part of the way we intend to use the field has left a large area untouched for the local wildlife.  Development plans for the full golf course require that we take in to account the Biodiversity Net Gain. However, we are not privy to the plans YTL have for this area in the future.

This is only a temporary measure for the golf club, and we will move off it as soon as possible, we feel we are a socially and environmentally responsible organisation. 

There are a few things that are odd about this. While it is very close to the border between local authorities, according to the OS map, the field is in Bristol, not South Gloucestershire, and the path is clearly marked on the map as running diagonally across the field, so shouldn't need confirmation. And when I contacted Bristol City Council just last year about making the footpath passable, they said the field was owned by BAE. Which makes me wonder if we’re being fobbed off by someone who knows even less then we do.  

If the field is owned by YTL, the company that’s developing Brabazon, that’s really worrying, as they would certainly be intending to develop it into more housing at some point, should they get planning permission. None of the plans that are public – that I’ve seen – show that field being developed. 

Anyhow. The upshot is that I haven’t had the heart to go there since. I can’t bear to see it fenced off while they reseed it, and then a swathe of sterile green grass where there were anthills and self-seeded oaks and thorn trees, patches of cuckoo flower and cowslips, yarrow, wild carrot and betony, dragonflies, butterflies and moths, bumblebees and honey bees, foxes, badgers, and and a fawn hidden in the long summer grass. And in my nightmares, they’ll cut the hollowing oak down too, to which I think I must be trauma-bonded.

The Northerner, on the other hand, thinks we should keep going to piss the golfers off. But Cwtch is a collie and needs somewhere to run, not another place where she's on a lead and liable to have golf balls hit in her direction. (It has happened.)

And so, along with Dartmoor, which we lost when the caravan site where we kept the biscuit tin by the sea was turned into a park for luxury holiday lodges, another bolt hole is gone. Maybe I'd be better off trying to make a refuge for myself in my head, one that can't be taken away.