The barrage and links to the estuary

Under a steel grey sky with only the slightest hint of a watery sun, I embarked on my walk, starting at the Barrage. The sheer scale of this engineering masterpiece never ceases to impress. It certainly needs to be a mighty structure though, impounding both the Ely and Taff, as well as keeping out the estuary’s waters from the 200 ha freshwater lake behind. At just over a kilometre long and with multiple locks, five sluice gates and a fish pass, there’s lots to see. On today’s visit I had the good fortune, or rather I’d planned, to see the barrage operating at both high and low water, so I could appreciate the strength of this structure against the scale of our estuary tides. As you’ll see from my photos it was quite a different seascape at these extremes, even though these weren’t particularly large tides within our tidal cycle. 

The barrage was built to create an ‘aesthetically attractive’ waterfront to drive urban regeneration and revive Cardiff’s old dockland areas. It does however, play another key function now, providing some protection from upstream flooding. Each sluice gate can release staggering amounts of water, so if there’s a storm forecast, water can be released into the estuary to make room for further river flows. Even on my visit today, the most westerly sluice gate was open, and water was flowing swiftly out to sea.

Water was also swirling around in the fish pass at the end of barrage. This Denil Pass, which was the largest fish pass in Europe when it was constructed, includes a series of pools and weirs for the migratory fish to negotiate. Looking down at the swirling waters of the fish pass at low water, I’ve always hoped one day I might see some leaping salmon or sea trout, but February is out of season unfortunately. Anyway, I hope the many fishermen who’d set up camp at the end of the outer breakwater of the Barrage would be more fortunate in their catch, particularly given they were sitting out for hours in bitingly cold temperatures

The harbour offshore Cardiff Bay at high water

The harbour offshore Cardiff Bay at low water

The swirling waters of the fish pass at low water

The enormous crocodile bench/ Croc in the Dock, homage to Roald Dahl

Mock white sails brighten up views across the bay

Exotic planting along the landscaped barrage

The barrage promenade

After a most welcome hot drink at the café by the barrage and a quick look at our very own SEP display board, I took the ‘most popular’ stretch of the Wales Coastal Path, along the barrage towards Mermaid Quay. Unlike most previous visits, it was eerily quiet: there was only the occasional dog walker, tourist and cyclist and, apart from a few dishevelled skateboarders, all the play areas were deserted. Against the dark grey forbidding sky the white sails on the barrage really stood out. Although these are supposedly a reminder of Cardiff’s historic sailing tradition, as I looked out across an empty Bay towards a relatively new skyline of apartment blocks and other high-rise buildings, I struggled to imagine the scores of vessels which must have waited outside Cardiff Docks here to load up with South Wales’ ‘gold’: high quality coal. It was also difficult to imagine the scene here immediately prior to the barrage’s construction when you’d have been standing in (rather sinking into!) a sea of undulating mudflats on the edge of the estuary. I do remember well, however, the tortuous debate relating to the demise of these muddy areas before the Cardiff Bay Barrage Act was finally passed: to some these areas were deemed ‘aesthetically unattractive’ but to others they were a haven for wildlife, having been declared a Site of Special Scientific Interest due to their important population of over-wintering birds. No doubt I’ll come back to discuss this further when I visit the Newport Wetlands site, part of the mitigation for the barrage’s impact, in a future walk.   

On such a cold day it was difficult contemplating climate change. However, an information board drew my attention to Cardiff County’s first ‘Tiny Forest’ which has been planted to mitigate the effects of climate change. Currently, a somewhat unremarkable patch of saplings on the edge of the barrage, it is hoped this will become a dense native woodland of 1000 trees and will ‘support urban wildlife and reconnect people with nature’. Other attempts to attract wildlife include the landscaping along the barrage which incorporates plant species which can tolerate the demands of this highly exposed coastal environment and also attract key pollinators. Most noticeable was the tall ‘Flagship’ swift tower‘ which plays out quite loud (!) pre-recorded swift calls in an effort to attract swifts, now a red-listed species, to the artificial nest boxes. Penetrating the stillness of the Bay on my visit, I did wonder why the audio was still playing in early February given swifts are summer visitors. On reflection, however, I think the recording is powered by solar energy, which seemingly, even on a drab day in February, still works! 

Quay walls of the old dry docks

Litter challenges – can you see the heron?

The classic urban waterfront

Continuing along the trail I crossed the ‘Origami-inspired’ bridge, pleasingly colourful on such a dull day. This unusual structure spans the Roath Basin. Looking like a gliding giant red kite, it is quite a contrast in shape and design to the rusting lock gates of the adjacent Roath Basin. Beyond this, the Norwegian Church Arts Centre with its brilliant white wooden cladding, seemed to welcome me to the next section of the  waterfront – the spruced up ‘heart’ of Cardiff Bay with its many attractions, including Wales’ national art centre, the Millennium Centre, and The Roald Dahl Plass, a large plaza which hosts public outdoor events. With time no longer on my side, I had to forgo the delicious cakes on offer at the Norwegian Church. However, having many fond memories of family occasions and work events here, I should tell you a little more about this iconic building where Roald Dahl was baptised. Built in 1868, it provided a meeting place for Norwegian seafarers coming ashore from Norwegian ships, berthed in the docks. Interestingly, many of these ships were trading cheap timber from Scandinavian pine forests to service the south Wales coal fields. Having been moved from its original site, it’s now an important arts venue hosting an interesting variety of events and arts exhibitions. I’m certainly looking forward to hearing the Welsh folk string trio, Vri, perform here in a few weeks’ time.

Fortunately, the weather by now was improving so I could indulge myself in a few ‘classic’ photos of the waterfront. As you may appreciate from my photos, there’s an interesting interplay between the old and new here. In the muted afternoon sunshine the old wooden dolphins provided an interesting foreground to the contemporary skyline on the other side of the Bay, and the twenty first century Senedd Building, with its striking wide open glass and slate frontage, even complemented its neighbour, the late nineteenth century Pierhead Building, with its ornate red tiles and clock tower, our Welsh ‘Big Ben!’ 

As I wanted to get to the wetlands and back to the barrage before dusk, I’d only time for a quick diversion into Roald Dahl Plass to admire the imposing arched bronze roof of the Millennium Centre (or The Armadillo as locals call it), and to appreciate the scale of this plaza. Once the ‘Oval Basin’ and entrance to the old port of Cardiff, it is now completely remodelled with imposing concrete columns. Indeed, it’s attractive modern aesthetic/architecture might be considered the epitome of the ‘superlative maritime city’ envisioned by the Cardiff Bay Development Corporation back in the 1980s. However, I do find it somewhat disappointing that, compared with many other dockland redevelopments, only fragments of the maritime heritage remain here and you do have to look hard to find them. As David notes ‘our maritime history has faded from memory and the city turned its back on the docks and the estuary.’ However, in a discrete corner at the entrance to the Oval Basin I did notice an old water level gauge scored into the stone quayside. These must have been so useful to many a ship’s captain entering the old port. However, standing on the almost deserted concrete pathway, I struggled to contemplate the hustle and bustle of the docks in their heyday. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, Cardiff had been the largest coal port in the world – indeed the world’s first ever million-pound deal was struck nearby, in the Coal Exchange. No time to visit that today though, so I continued along the waterfront past a somewhat quieter than usual Mermaid Quay to the old graving docks, now home to Techniquest and some stylish and expensive-looking apartment blocks.

The old lock gates of Roath Basin with the Norwegian Church behind

The iconic wooden dolphins in Cardiff Bay

The Pierhead Building and the Senedd (the seat of Welsh Parliament, Senedd Cymru)

Water level gauge on quayside of the Oval Basin

A walk on the wilder side – Cardiff Bay Wetlands

Even on a relatively quiet day it was quite a contrast entering the Cardiff Bay Wetlands Reserve after seemingly miles of concrete waterfront. Apart from the distant hum of traffic, I really appreciated the relative tranquillity of this 8 hectare site as I wandered along the gravel walkways through the towering reed beds gently swaying in the light breeze. I was particularly enchanted by the elegant swans gracing the wetlands in front of the Windsor Esplanade and was thrilled to catch a few glimpses of other birdlife, including coots, grebes and Canada geese. I wasn’t lucky enough to see the Great Crested Grebes ‘exchanging courtship gifts of aquatic weed’ and ‘the stripe-headed offspring following their parents or even riding on their backs’ as described joyfully by Nerys, but today even the pigeons were keen to put on a display and pose for a photo! What a transformation has taken place over the years since I brought my first group of students to study this site. I must admit to having been rather sceptical about whether it would be possible to create a flourishing freshwater habitat here, particularly when it was replacing a saltmarsh prior to the barrage’s construction. However, thanks to the considerable efforts of the Cardiff Harbour Authority and others who’ve designed, maintained and enhanced this site, this new habitat really does support a rich diversity plant and animal species.

Wetlands in front of the Windsor Esplanade

Pigeons posing on the fence by the walkway 

Reed beds in front of the voco St Davids Hotel

Final thoughts

On my return to the barrage, I admired the estuary as the early evening sun and the ebbing tide made for a few last photo opportunities. I agree with David ‘being able to stroll along the Barrage embankment with a large freshwater lake to one side and a huge, ecologically important estuary to the other is a unique experience.’ Tonight, for me the evening sky across the Bay was attractive, but what a beautiful and peaceful vista across the mud flats as the light began to fade. Today these were certainly not ‘unsightly’ mudflats, but, then again, I was only able to appreciate them from the viewing platform afforded by the barrage itself. How ironic. Perhaps the construction of the barrage really ‘was the beginning of when Cardiff learned to love its waterfront again’ as David suggests.

An offshore dolphin emerging from the estuary’s mudflats

Introduction

On one of the coldest but clearest of days early in January, I ventured out with Geoff, my husband, to the explore the coast from Redcliffe Bay (Somerset) to Portishead Marina, taking in sections of the North Somerset Tidal Trail and the Gordano Round. Ever since sailing around the Upper Estuary on the Waverley last summer, I’d been intrigued to explore this stretch of coast further – I’d not only been surprised by the grandeur of the former National Nautical School from offshore but also the unexpected swathes of natural shoreline so close to the docks downstream of the Avon. Given the extreme temperatures and the limited hours of daylight, it was more of a Saga tour than an exhilarating walk, hopping in and out of our car to sample the highlights and then try to get warm. We even took the advice from the online Bristol Barkers’ walk and tested the delights of the Windmill Inn for lunch – to be recommended! 

Supplementing my impressions from our brief visit, I’m delighted to share with you more informed views from a couple of Portishead town councillors. Councillor Jenie Eastman (councillor for West Ward including Redcliffe Bay) has lived in Portishead for nearly 30 years, and like me, is a proud geographer with a passion for exploring the balance between the physical and human worlds. Councillor David Gunnell (councillor for North Ward including the Lake Grounds area) is an even longer-term resident of Portishead, who, as a retired clinician and academic, is passionate about mental wellbeing as well as being a volunteer on a local nature reserve.

Safety first: Lighthouses along the Portishead shore

One of the main attractions of the Portishead shore is the view across the estuary towards Denny Island/Ynys Denny, just three miles offshore. On such a calm day this tiny uninhabited island appeared little more than a dark hump emerging out of the still estuary waters at high tide, but as the tides receded further the full extent of the offshore sandbanks and muddy shores were revealed – this reminded us of more serious, safety matters and the need for navigational aids along this potentially treacherous stretch of coast.  Brunel’s great transatlantic passenger ship, the SS Great Western ran aground off Nore Point in 1838 and this was the impetus for the construction of Black Nore Lighthouse in 1894. Inspired by this, we made our way along the muddy but still slightly frosty path to the lighthouse. Gleaming in the winter sunshine and casting long dark shadows across the beach below, it was easy to see why this slightly quirky Grade II listed ‘pepper pot’ lighthouse is such an inspiration for local artists. Its white cast iron tower sits atop a skirt of six metallic legs, looking more like a Wallace and Gromit model spaceship ora ‘stilted steam-punk iron torch,’ as Matt Gilbert describes it in his poem ‘At Black Nore Lighthouse,’ than a serious piece of engineering. On such a calm day, however, this solitary sentinel exuded a calm authority and sense of comfort – after all, it had watched over this stretch of waters for well over a hundred years, until its decommissioning in 2010.

Geoff walking along the coastal path at Black Nore Lighthouse

Not surprisingly given the coast’s proximity to the entrance of Royal Portbury Dock, there’s another lighthouse just upstream on the tip of Portishead Point, as mariners refer to it, or Battery Point, if you’re a local. Continuing our lighthouse crawl, we approached this 9-metre-high structure from the coast path and were immediately aware of its somewhat more unusual design than its cousin down the coast – with its black metal pyramid tower resting on a rather grey and weathered square concrete base, it looked more like a miner’s lamp than a navigational aid. Lying silent and still, it was also difficult to imagine this relatively small structure providing sufficient warning for shipping. This automatic navigational light, however, is still fully functional, being maintained by the Bristol Port Company and remains critical to navigation. Just as well, given that large ships pass closer to land here than anywhere else along the entire UK coastline! A local campaign has also ensured that the lighthouse’s original two-tonne fog bell, which was removed due to structural issues, is not forgotten. It’s now been re-erected near the town’s centre as a reminder of Portishead’s maritime past.

A distant view of Denny Island, Wales – an inspiration for Melania Trumps’ milliner?!

A close-up of Black Nore Lighthouse

Battery Point Lighthouse

Looking along the rocky shore towards Redcliffe Bay

Impressive geological strata near Portishead/Battery Point, glowing in the low winter sun

Supersized ripples along the muddy shores

Natural shore delights

Whilst the lighthouses are interesting, it is the natural beauty of the coast which is the main attraction to many locals, particularly given its proximity to people’s homes. Councillor Gunnell was keen to point out that ‘In Portishead, we are extremely fortunate to live close to such a lovely stretch of coastline, rich in wildlife, geology and fantastic views.’ Councillor Eastman also expressed her love of the ‘the wide variety of landscapes, beaches and rock formations’ here. 

Our trundle along the coast path south of the Battery Lighthouse towards Redcliffe Bay enabled us to sample some of these delights, although in such cold, slippery conditions we couldn’t clamber across the shore to really appreciate the varied geology, hidden coves and rock pools teeming with life for which this coast is so prized. Occasional glimpses of the geology revealed amazing rock structures, dating back to a major mountain-building period in geological history, the Variscan period, some 350 million years ago, when the supercontinent of Pangea was formed. However, the red rocks of Redcliffe Bay eluded us as we peered through the wooded cliff line into the sun. We’ll have to come another day to explore these ancient rocks and to search for fossil fish scales in Woodhill Bay.

We were, however, treated to some spectacular coastal vistas. Not only were there extensive panoramas across to south Wales, but, in the low winter sunshine on a falling tide, I was mesmerized by the intricate patterns formed as deep dark, gullies and giant ripples emerged along the muddy shores. Etched into the shimmering mud these ephemeral features were a reminder of the immense power of the tidal and fluvial currents along this coast. More accessible but equally attractive were our driftwood finds close to Black Nore Lighthouse. These mighty chunks of wood, strewn haphazardly across the backshore, looked particularly beautiful with a light sprinkling of frost.  Councillor Eastman clearly spends much of her spare time hunting for such natural treasures along the beach here and at Sugar Loaf Bay ‘The Glass Beach’ where locals scour the shore for polished glass. Indeed, she was proud to inform me that her bathroom boasts ‘a huge fabric banner painted with shells, pebbles, bird’s eggs etc, hanging from a huge piece of driftwood scavenged from the beach in front of the house’ in her bathroom. I guess I’m not the only person who goes home with pockets full of beach treasures! Perhaps you’ve some artwork from the Severn shores you’d like to share with us? – we’d love to hear from you if you have! 

Woodland framing a view along the shore towards the Prince of Wales Bridge

Trees sculptured by the offshore westerlies

Dog walkers along Woodhill Bay

Our lunch in the Windmill Inn enabled us to appreciate coastal views up towards the Prince of Wales Bridge in the warmth. We were reminded though, that wherever you are along this stretch of coast, you’re never far away from suburbia. The rapid urbanisation which beset our estuary’s towns and cities in the 60s and 70s is very much in evidence here – indeed the statistics for Portishead show a near three- times population expansion since the early 1960s. Councillor Eastman points out though that ‘not that much has really changed that much in the last 50 years.’ However, what would have been 60s/70s suburban uniformity, with ever-changing fashions and home-owner aspirations, now is a living museum demonstrating exterior household renovation and a triumph of individualisation. With the insatiable appetite for sea views, the pressure for further residential infilling continues. Nestling behind an old sea wall close to Black Nore lighthouse, we glimpsed the elegant façade of the National Nautical School modelled on the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth. This impressive building has now been repurposed and transformed into Fedden Village, offering desirable apartments with enviable Channel views and secluded coastal grounds.

Portishead is certainly much more than the ‘Bristol outrider and a suburb by the sea with a muddy beach’ as Peter Finch describes it. After lunch we ventured down to Councillor Gunnell’s ‘much loved Portishead Lake Grounds Park,’ the English sister of Cold Knap Lake at Barry on the estuary’s Welsh shore. As we circuited the sports fields and the marine lake admiring the ducks and swans, it was hard to imagine how this area had been transformed from the ‘thorny brushwood and stagnant rhines’ of Rodmoor into this very popular recreational area for residents and visitors. Even more challenging was the thought of the efforts of those employed in its construction – seemingly, it had been a job creation scheme back in 1910 for the Bristol unemployed and was to provide some sort of compensation for Portishead’s lack of a sandy beach. As we had walked around and tried to avoid the slightly flooded, squishy grassy areas, it was no surprise later to find that both Councillors Gunnell and Eastman expressed considerable concern about potential flood risk from sea level rise here. Councillor Gunnell suggested ‘another flood is overdue’ as ‘our old sea wall …has been breached in the past,’ whilst noting that the area last flooded in the 1990s ‘causing extensive damage to sports facilities and the café.’ More immediate concerns relating to the costs of maintaining the area alongside fears over introducing parking charges were also on the minds of Councillors Eastman and Gunnell. Certainly, even on our brief visit we’d appreciated the current efforts to keep this area so tidy and pleasant and had benefited from free parking. So indeed had the scores of other visitors who were enjoying the winter sunshine along the seafront and walking off their Christmas excesses (and some feeding post-Christmas scraps to the local avian population).    

Residential area west of Sugar Loaf beach

The impressive clock tower at Fedden Village, the former National Nautical School

Feeding birds with the remains of a festive gammon at Woodhill Bay

As my husband commented as we passed the nearby Portishead Lido, ‘there’s a building that wants to be seen.’ Painted in bright yellow ochre and orange, this lido is quite a landmark but clearly a local treasure and inspiration for typographic prints and other artwork. Given it was the Christmas vacation only the lido’s café was bustling with activity on our visit and the pool itself was closed. However, a sneak peek at the Portishead Open Air Pool website afterwards indicates you can go for a cold water swim here at the weekend even in winter! It also informs you that the 33 m pool currently attracts over 50,000 visitors each year – quite impressive, but nowhere near the 250,000 visitors which were counted during its first two years of operation. Then, its unusually pleasantly warm waters were a key attraction – these, it seems had been heated by hot water, a by-product from a local phosphorus plant which was transported to the site by four to five tankers each day! Councillor Gunnell informs me that solar heating has recently been installed. A summer visit now seems likely …

Looking towards Battery Point the lido is clearly visible from a distance!

The early evening charm of Portishead Marina

Portishead Marina: now and then

As the sun was dipping below Battery Point and the temperatures began to plummet, we scurried back to the car and headed over to Portishead Marina for the last mini excursion of the day. A delightful recent dockland development awaited us – a great place for us to both to warm up and chill out, but only after quite a lengthy walk along the quayside to one of the few cafes still serving teas and coffees. In the now evening light, the design of the classy and coherently designed apartment blocks surrounding the dock could have fooled us to think we were somewhere abroad, not quite Amsterdam, but certainly continental. With some expensive-looking boats and yachts tastefully festooned with twinkling Christmas lights, the whole area exuded both a sense of calm and affluence. Such a stark contrast to the dock’s industrial years when not one but two power stations had belched filthy smoke into the air for a while until the early 90s when they were demolished.

All aboard to Flat Holm / Ynys Echni

This was no nail-biting excursion around the Bay with screaming kids like I remember from my last excursion with Bay Island Voyages for our son’s birthday treat years ago. Today, after a short burst around Cardiff Bay to amuse the one and only child onboard, we took our place in one of the towering locks of the Barrage, alongside a variety of other vessels, including a stately yacht and a fishing boat, to wait for the water level to reach that of the estuary. Having navigated our way through the lock, our rigid inflatable, the Celtic Pioneer, took ‘flight,’ swiftly escorting us into the wide expanse of sparkling blue water of the Channel. There were spectacular views to the islands, which brought back memories of my recent sail on the Waverley and flashbacks to other more adventurous maritime adventures on the old Maritime Studies Department’s (Cardiff Uni) inflatable years ago.  Within minutes, with 450 horses pulling us along/ oops, no – with the mighty thrust of the 450 HP of our outboard engines, we were soon dropping speed at the approach to Flat Holm, the most southerly location in Wales. We gently glided past striking grey-white limestone cliffs, admiring their contorted beds and curious shapes, which cast intriguingly long shadows across the bay in the bright autumn sunlight. These mighty natural structures not only frame the northern entrance to the island but also tower above the steep jetty. They certainly reminded us that this is a wild and potentially dangerous place with an immense tidal range.

Fortunately, there was no difficult landing today – just a small step onto the jetty and we were all ashore in minutes. This was nothing like some of the previous managers’ and wardens’ recollections: indeed, Dave Worral, former Flat Holm Ecologist and Project Manager, recounts the great team efforts required for deliveries, particularly in the early years of the Flat Holm Project as many of the buildings were being restored. He remembers the delivery of old telegraph poles which BT had donated to help with the construction of the barn. These had been ‘pushed into the estuary at Barry Dock, lashed together, towed out by the Lewis Alexander and then dragged ashore before being moved to the farm one at a time.’ Life on an island, even so close to urban civilisation, can certainly be tough.

Only a few miles from the noise and bustle of Cardiff Bay, we felt we’d really been transported to another world – so much wilder and quieter. It was quite difficult to get your head around the fact we were technically still in the domain of Cardiff. However, before we had time to fully take in our new surroundings, we had been introduced to the Flat Holm staff and were being escorted up a surprisingly steep flight of stone steps (particularly given the island’s name) to begin our short island tour, which, by necessity, had to be brief, given the tidal stopwatch dictating the length of our stay. 

All at sea: fast forward into the Estuary

Roof trusses ready for unloading on the MV Lewis Alexander, 1990 (photo: Dave Worrall)

Our group of day visitors listening intently to the tour given by Steep Holm’s warden

Remains of military hardware lie silent and unused

A celebration of the first-ever radio transmission over water in 1897

Island heritage and history

As we walked along grassy paths through the gentle slopes of bracken and scrubland to the other side of the island, we began to realise this was no toy town, neatly planned island, the stuff of story books. Instead, there was a seemingly haphazard assortment of historical artefacts, from rusting military paraphernalia hugging the island’s shores to farmsteads and other buildings in various states of disrepair strewn across the island. As we learnt from our tour and a quick visit to the museum (a v busy room housing a few curiosities and display boards in the old barracks) many of these remains are indeed cultural treasures which help tell the island’s unique and sometimes troubling story. 

The tour guide whisked us through the centuries. He told us about the island’s important strategic position and defensive role, not that we needed much reminding given the amount of military detritus lying around. From Victorian barracks and the remains of a Second World War radar system to a labyrinth of wartime bunkers and tunnels, there’s plenty for visitors to explore. There’s even an eighteenth-century cannon and four major gun emplacement sites. The latter form part of the Palmerston Forts, a chain of defences around the British coast to deter the French from invasion, when Anglo-French relations were deemed somewhat strained and there was increasing concern about the strength of the French Navy. Whilst never used and grossly expensive, these Palmerston Follies, as they’ve been sometimes been, are quite a tourist attraction. They may be even paying back some relatively meagre financial rewards. We were shown the Lighthouse Battery with its Moncrieff pit, an ingeniously designed stone pit for a huge, ten-tonne, disappearing gun. We were even allowed to explore this sunken gun pit and some of the surrounding stone tunnels, much to the delight of many in our group. 

Then we were taken to see an outdoor arts exhibit nearby which commemorates the first-ever radio transmission over water, between Flat Holm and Lavernock Point. Almost hidden by surrounding bushes and stunted trees, this sculpture is considerably more low-key than that recently unveiled in Cardiff Bay, a twelve-foot-high wooden analogue radio! May be just as well for Flat Holm, given Marconi’s supposed and misguided links with Mussolini’s Fascist Party prior to World War II. However, global communications wouldn’t be the same today without these humble beginnings of wireless telegraphy, and it’s thanks to the persuasive powers of George Kemp, a Cardiff-based Post Office engineer, that Marconi set up his experiments here anyway.

The unmanned Flat Holm lighthouse with a Moncrieff pit (for a disappearing gun) in the foreground

The disused foghorn, now a silent partner to the lighthouse, was restored by the Flat Holm Society in the 1960

After the tour, we explored a few more sites for ourselves. Unfortunately, time was getting limited, and we didn’t want to miss the one and only boat back, so we could only view the old farmhouse from a distance. Now the island’s social hub and home to the warden and volunteers, these tidy, white-washed buildings would once have been the centre of the island’s farming community before the turn of the nineteenth century when they were converted into the short-lived Flat Holm Hotel, replete with bar and skittle alley. Fortunately, we did just have time to quickly sketch and photograph the silhouetted chimneys and derelict remains of the abandoned cholera hospital. In use from the late nineteenth to the early twentieth century, this had defended the City of Cardiff, not from a military invasion, but from the throes of this terrible disease, brought here by unfortunate seafarers who’d travelled the globe.  Strangely alluring and photogenic, I struggled in the silence of mid-afternoon sun to imagine the cries of the poor souls, afflicted with cholera, who’d been kept in isolation here. I do so hope that Natalie’s dream world will come true and that eventually the cholera hospital will be fully restored. I’m not so sure about the buzzing residential visitor centre which she imagines, but some further recognition of these unsung heroes, particularly the amazingly dedicated and brave staff who’d worked here, would be good.

The dilapidated remains of the old cholera isolation hospital with views of the Welsh coast in the distance

Before – the farmhouse during renovations in the mid-80s

After – the farmhouse as the current island’s social hub and home to staff

Natalie meeting with John Craven to feature on Countryfile

An early school group helping with monitoring surveys in the late 80s

Wild leeks grace a view across the still waters of the Channel towards the North Somerset coast

The Gull and Leek, the most southerly pub in Wales

The island’s natural environment

Prized for its wildlife interest and being a Site of Special Scientific Interest and Local Nature Reserve, we had arrived with great expectations. But late autumn doesn’t make for a nature safari: the gulls, including the lesser black-backed gulls (Larus fuscus), for which the island is famous, had left several months ago. At least no hard hats were required to cross the island this time – I distinctly remember my last visit years ago, struggling to cross the island, huddled under jackets, trying to avoid the constant attacks from dive bombing gulls. In stark contrast, this time, we were treated to a few moments of solitude and island magic as we contemplated our lunch spot, gazing out across the serene blue waters of the Channel. No wonder so many have been lured to the island as a retreat, from the Vikings to the Celtic saint, Saint Cadoc who lived on the island in the 5/6^th century. Even our three former Flat Holm wardens still treasure their memories of feelings of ‘remoteness and isolation.’ Dave comments that it was the combination of the ‘island’s remoteness, isolation, it’s fascinating natural and cultural heritage, whilst also being in sight of the capital city of Wales and in the middle of a busy shipping lane for those using the ports and harbours of the Severn Estuary,’ which made it such a special place for him. 

As we sat eating our lunch, we were enchanted by the sound of waves lapping gently along the shore, only rarely interrupted by an occasional bird call from the elusive water rail (Rallus aquaticus) and the rustling of dried bracken, as rabbits hopped by only feet away. Fortunately, for me, with my phobia of snake-like creatures, we didn’t see one of the island’s unique slow worms (Anguis fragilis), famous for their large blue markings. Mercifully, neither did we encounter the rare special flesh and bone-eating beetle (Dermestes undulatus) which holds on here as its last stronghold in the British Isles. With such rare and important species, it’s heartening to know that there’s an active management programme on the island, the Flat Holm Project. This project, which has been going on for decades, makes its mission to try to conserve the island’s important natural and cultural features.  It’s a real success story. It’s featured on national TV, as Natalie Taylor, who’s in charge of projects including the Flat Holm Project for Cardiff Council, is keen to point out. However, for me its main success lies in its long-term monitoring of the natural environment. Through regular monitoring in all weathers and conditions, project staff, helped by armies of volunteers, having amassed an invaluable and enviable amount of quality data. From spring gulls counts to invertebrate and litter surveys, there’s data, and, now, as I understand you don’t even have to go to Flat Holm to explore some of the wildlife data (see: BBC News). Using an interactive digital map in Cardiff’s Techniquest science museum you can now access data updates on flora and fauna – all in relative warmth and comfort and without even having to worry about whether you’ll get cut off by the tides.  A great development which provides yet greater access to even more people.

We enjoyed our brief encounter with the island’s nature over lunch, short though it was. Many of the cliff tops were graced with beautiful displays of autumn colour. Most memorable were the stately seed heads of the rare wild leek, Allium ampeloprasum. I certainly agree with Peter Finch’s description of them as ‘triffid-like and magnificent.’ On our visit their slightly dishevelled pompoms rose a metre or so above the cliff tops, framing spectacular views of the Channel behind and affording me lots of photo opportunities, as you’ve probably guessed from flicking through this article!  No wonder too that this is Cardiff’s County flower and part-inspired the name of the island’s only pub, the Gull and Leek.

New perspectives

Having finished our lunch, we spent a few moments savouring the spectacular wide-open vistas of the Estuary and Channel from our unique vantage point. Hopefully, these pictures capture a little of the essence of these views. As I watched sailing boats gracefully glide across the water, I reflected on how boundaries drawn up for management purposes might appear somewhat arbitrary and theoretical. However, since my involvement with SEP, I’ve been very aware of the importance of this location from a management point of view. I also was reminded of what is generally regarded as the technical edge of our estuary, an imaginary line between here, Steep Holm, Lavernock Point and Brean Down. Indeed, this represents the approximate seaward limit of most of SEP’s interests. It also marks the edge of the estuary for other management purposes, particularly related to water quality and natural coastal processes. In this context, the exact position of this boundary has been the subject of many an academic article. It hasn’t gone uncontested by local communities either, who’ve frequently identify winners and losers across the boundary divide. This imaginary line is also now very much in my mind, as SEP Chair, given that the Severn Estuary Commission is currently exploring the potential for sustainable energy from the estuary’s tides for the Western Gateway pan-regional partnership. As the Commission has no capacity to do new research and has to rely more-or-less entirely on previous evidence, I gave more than a passing thought to the conclusions of the 2010 Severn Tidal Power Feasibility Study as I looked across towards Steep Holm.  This study’s report suggested a ‘Cardiff to Weston Barrage’ was ‘feasible.’ Was I looking at what would become an historic landscape?

Returning across the island at pace, hopefully by the same grassy paths as earlier, we were relieved to find the one and only signpost on the island, reassuring us of the route back to the jetty (not that there weren’t some obvious landmarks easily visible all around us!) With a little time in hand, the signpost became a key photo-opportunity and talking point for us and our fellow travellers – clearly, we’d all been bitten by the magic of the island and were intrigued by our new offshore orientation! Even though I’d been aware of the origins of name Holm (which means ‘island in an estuary’ in Old Norse), I certainly didn’t know that there is another island with a lighthouse, with an almost identical name, Flatholmen, off the coast of Norway

Looking across the Channel towards Steep Holm

An artist’s paradise – sketching the view towards Brean Down in glorious sunshine

Relieved to find the one and only signpost on Flat Holm

A glimpse of the Penarth coast between the mighty limestone cliffs at Castle Rock

The stone-clad water catchment, supplying the island with freshwater

Some final reflections on island challenges

As we approached the jetty area, we passed a small flock of endangered Boreray sheep. These shaggy, almost feral beasts were introduced to the island from Scotland a couple of years ago. The hope is that these new grazers will create ‘critical nesting sites’ for the declining lesser black-backed gull colony, but I hope they won’t suffer from lead poisoning either. Unfortunately, the seemingly wild grasslands are not as pristine as you might think. A legacy from former silver mining has left some island soils polluted with lead and other heavy metals. This means that the land is suitable only for grazing for land management and not for food farming possible, even centuries after the short-lived mining activities ceased. Human endeavours to stem other pollution-related issues on the island have met with varying degrees of success. The restoration and capping of some of the massive urban landfill sites, such as Lamby Way and Ferry Road in Cardiff, over the last few decades, must have stemmed the botulism issue. However, there’s still a constant tide of litter despoiling the island’s shores every day according to the staff member who was waiting to see us safely off the island.  Amongst the items picked and recorded each month are lots of plastic dog toys, presumably mislaid by dog walkers on local beaches. Messages in bottles and creepy dolls have also been found alongside a miscellany of other plastic discards from modern society.  

However, it’s the day-to-day existence on this remote isle, with its exposed climate and extreme tides, which creates the biggest challenges for those living, visiting or indeed often just visiting Flat Holm. Looking down the steep steps towards the jetty it was clear that even providing basics, such as drinking water, power, heating, food and waste disposal, never mind internet access, is fraught with difficulties and logistical problems. Natalie, who was the warden for several years, informs me how power, heating and water have to be ‘managed carefully, because we have no mains services and have to rely on PV (photovoltaics – solar energy), driftwood, rainwater and back-up gas and generators.’ Clearly, even just staying warm can be challenging at times and the weather dictates how much power we generate.’ Natalie even recounts her memory of listening to the shipping forecast on the VHF especially on those dark, windy, rainy wintry days early in the morning was really comforting.’ Slightly difficult to imagine on our visit on such a calm and warm autumn day!   Dave remembers the hard times before the water catchment area was renovated when they had to transport the island’s entire water supply in water jacks. Nowadays, fortunately, the island’s water supply comes from an ingenious and impressive water catchment area, which we’d been able to see first-hand earlier in the day. This mighty stone-clad structure catches rainwater which then runs down slope to feed a large underground storage tank housing the island’s water supply. Waiting for our return boat, one of the current Flat Holm staff somewhat sheepishly told of us of the team’s excitement when a Chinook helicopter once did an extra special pizza delivery whilst officially doing a practice landing on the island. I’m sure such guilty pleasures are forgivable though, as life on Flat Holm, whilst only four miles from Cardiff, is pretty tough at times, especially in the long dark winter months. 

Final thoughts

As we skimmed across the water away from Castle Rock, it wasn’t difficult to imagine the ships which had run aground or the smugglers who’d plagued the island in previous centuries. Within minutes, however, these thoughts and the wildness of Flat Holm seemed so far away as we stepped back onto the busy quayside in Cardiff Bay. However, my head was still buzzing with thoughts about the island and its future, especially given its inherent vulnerability, lying so close to Cardiff and the other urban centres around the Estuary. Although Flat Holm has been described by Wyn Mason as a ‘wild haven in a human-centred world’, humans have already made a significant and lasting impact on this small isle. Indeed, all the previous warden have expressed to me their concerns about future pollution and climate change impacts. And yet, perhaps surprisingly they were all relatively hopeful about the island’s future, as am I. As I’ve realised from my visit, some really creative innovations have been stimulated by tackling the island’s challenges. The hope is that new sustainable solutions will continue to be developed here and that the fine balance between hosting visitors, like me, and the island’s ecological needs will continue to be maintained. As Natalie stresses, we certainly need people to show an interest in ‘maintaining safe and thriving environment and caring about nature and heritage here.’ May be the island will become that sustainable icon and a ‘prime example of sustainable living’ and ‘beacon of nature conservation, heritage and educational opportunity’ and an ‘ongoing retreat centre for those wishing to have a respite from modern life and amenities’, as Natalie, Dave and Jan hope.

I recommend a visit if you’ve not been there before – it really will change your perspective of the estuary and your place in it. Before you go, I’d suggest you explore the Flat Holm Art Project’s website, which Natalie’s rightly proud of. Here you can undertake a 2D tour of the island’s landmarks as well as enjoy a wealth of poetry and other place-based art, inspired by the island and its heritage.  There’s even the Singing Lighthouse, a sonic odyssey, of intriguing sounds recorded on a visit from Cardiff – and it’s nearly as good as going there in person! I certainly hope we’ll be brave enough to visit in person again, but next time during the gull season, earlier in the summer, when we’ll also be able to see the wild leeks and the rock sea lavender in bloom and may be even have time to visit Wales’ most southerly pub.  

The Celtic Pioneer returning to Flat Holm to take us back to Cardiff

Back ashore in Cardiff Bay, delighted with memories from my retirement present (photo: Geoffrey Ballinger)

Established nearly nine hundred years ago, in 1136, just outside the then city walls of Gloucester, the priory was built to house retreating Augustinian canons who had been given a hard time from the locals around their ‘parent’ Llanthony Priory in the Vale of Ewyas (now within the Brecon Beacons National Park). They liked it in Gloucester and stayed. Indeed, the priory became not only a significant religious centre but, also, like most other medieval religious sites in and around Gloucester, it grew into an important education establishment. As well as running schools in the local area, the priory’s canons also provided hospitality to locals and visitors. However, it was for its cheese-making that were best known in the early sixteenth century. Not Double Gloucester cheese (sorry I haven’t researched that), but ‘Lanthony’ cheese. This, alongside the first lamprey of the fishing season, was sent to the sovereign at Windsor every year. Today, the view to the river is blocked by various industrial premises and other buildings, so, unfortunately, the only reminders of the Severn’s proximity are exhibits in the Information Room: a reproduction of John Speed’s 1616 ‘map of Glocester’ and a copy of Thomas Harral’s 1824 illustration which shows sailing ships in front of the priory’s remains. Clearly the river was a vital resource here for many centuries. Indeed, Speed had highlighted in his supplementary text the ‘special glory’ which the Severn bestowed on the good gifts of the land.

Thanks to a major recent restoration project, you now can begin to appreciate the significance of this site and you can admire some of the recently restored medieval structures, especially on a lovely sunny afternoon. However, given the site’s complex history since the priory’s dissolution in 1539, the remains you see today are only a small portion of the original buildings, and, as the caption below indicates, even the original function of some of the buildings is a bit of an enigma. According to Ray, there’s also the faint possibility that the nursery rhyme ‘Humpty Dumpty’ may have its origin from a supposed incident on the priory walls during the Siege of Gloucester during the English Civil War in 1643! Hmmm… I’m not that convinced, even though Ray was quite persuasive – it seems like Colchester also lays claim to this momentous event!

The half-timbered range of Llanthony Secunda Priory – this building poses more questions than answers in terms of its original use– was it a storage facility or even a stable?

Reflections of the impressive Victorian (1830s-40s) warehouses of Main Basin

One of the many colourful narrow boats along the canal close to the Docks

Although I’d love to have had time to visit all twenty or so other sites which form part of the Gloucester Medieval Trail, I needed to explore the Docks and their connection with the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal, as I’d intended. Well, if Purton had seemed like a neat model village on my last walk, Gloucester Docks could have been a backscene for a model railway, or even a film set for a Victorian thriller. They were certainly impressive. Imposing, tall and slender brick-built warehouses rose proudly from the quaysides and their long reflections shimmered in the grey still waters of the canal and docks – quite a photographer’s dream even on a greying afternoon. No wonder these are considered the best-preserved example of Victorian Docks in the country and recently have been awarded the highly prestigious Heritage Harbour status earlier this year. Studying the names of the narrowboats kept me amused for quite a while –Nut Cracker, Amber, Evolution, Wildlife, Little John and Sabrina, to name just a few. However, it was the combination of slightly quirky public art sculptures and actual historical artefacts dotted around the docks which made me curious to find out more about the history of this the most inland of ports in Britain, where inland waterways and seagoing vessels have come together to define the maritime edge of the estuary.

As I was to discover from display panels around the Docks and a fascinating visit to the National Waterways Museum, there are nearly two hundred years of maritime history here. There are innumerable superlatives too – back in 1847 the largest wet dock in the world was constructed here; at their peak, the Docks employed over 3000 people. Certainly, the completion of the Sharpness Canal in 1827 was a turning point, enabling Gloucester to compete with Bristol as a port, given that the treacherous waters of the Severn could now be avoided between Sharpness and Gloucester.   Gloucester Port had other advantages compared with its southern rival: its proximity to the Midlands, its superb rail links and lower costs. No wonder that it became a major hub of activity in the 19th and early 20th Centuries, boasting significant trades in grain, timber, wines and more, including petroleum products in its later years.

A striking crane on its old tracks in front of North Warehouse. This was the first warehouse to be built in 1826/7 and had stored corn, wines and spirits

The Candle, or the Rusty Needle as some locals refer to it, rises 21m above the quayside and has lines from the poem, Requiem, by Gloucester Ivor Gurney, engraved around its base (and, as you can see, was quite tricky to photograph!)

What the museum perhaps lacks in genuine historic vessels, however, was made up for by an interesting selection of smaller artefacts and most particularly by a display featuring a series of short video clips from old sailors who’d lived and breathed the waterways. Drawn in by their rich Gloucester accents and their passionate delivery, I sat alongside a huddle of other visitors to listen to their fascinating stories. Chris Witts painted a vibrant picture of his life on the river and canal. However, for me, Roy Beckett’s recollections were particularly poignant. He vividly describes his working life on the waterways, which began when he was only fourteen years old. He makes no bones that it was a hard life – ‘you never stopped, never… working in all weathers,’ being paid ‘by the trip and tonnage.’ However to Roy, the Docks in their heyday had been ‘really something special,’ and ‘in every way… magic,’ including the ‘sound of the mills’ in the evenings, ‘the gas lighting’ and even ‘the smell around the dock.’ 

I came back out onto the dockside by the museum reflecting on Roy’s comments. Had the ‘magic’ really gone? Those very ‘magical’ docks had fallen into disrepair in the 70s before finally closing the following decade, as ship size and competition from road transport increased, and petroleum works were relocated further south on the estuary. Whilst many may just get a romantic interpretation of Gloucester’s maritime past from the nearly scrubbed up quaysides today, I was delighted to discover that there is still an active maritime industry here. The rich maritime history lives on with a number of specialist companies undertaking ship restoration and historical ship building. T. Nielsen and Company with its extensive facilities and dry docks, has not only achieved worldwide recognition for its work with historic timber ships but has also earned a reputation for its provision of specialist skills for film and TV studios requiring specialist marine structures, boats and rigging. The hulls of some of the historic vessels undergoing maintenance and restoration certainly made for quite a picturesque photo. However, the masts of the most notable vessel in the basin, Kathleen and May, the last remaining three-masted topsail trading schooner, were clearly under wraps, as the vessel undergoes routine maintenance. What a sight it must have been during the Tall Ships Festival earlier this year, when this and other schooners were afloat in the Docks! I’m excited to learn that the next one, in 2027, will be an even more impressive celebration, to mark the bicentenary of the opening of the Gloucester -Sharpness Canal and the docks.

A dry dock facility dating back to 1853 is still used for boat restoration by the  T. Nielson Company

Historic vessels, including the hull of Kathleen and May, moored in the Main Basin

A blend of old and new off the Main Basin in Gloucester’s Historic Dock area

New apartment blocks complement converted warehouses with around the Main Basin

The Docks – a redevelopment triumph?

As I walked back to the hotel I was surprised to see that the areas of dereliction and scruffiness, which I vaguely remember from a previous visit years ago, had all but disappeared. An immense redevelopment programme has clearly taken place here to restore and showcase this special architectural and historic site. I was struck by the cohesiveness of the redevelopment, particularly compared with some other maritime redevelopments in the UK where you have to look hard to discover any maritime past between featureless modern retail units and apartment blocks. Here old and new effectively complement each other (although I do have my own views about retail outlets and chains which might jar here). It is a thriving area– even on an October afternoon, there was a constant hustle and bustle as people went about their sightseeing, shopping and other recreational activities. Certainly, on the surface it seems like the multi-million restoration project, which was one of Gloucester’s ‘Magnificent Seven’ regeneration sites following an unsuccessful bid to host the 1992 Olympic Games, has been more than worthwhile. As I understand it (from reading more widely around the history of Gloucester’s redevelopment) there have also been many lessons learnt from the process of regeneration here, particularly ones associated with the complex interplay between the various interests at play, aptly described by Atkinson and others as a metaphorical ‘bowl of spaghetti’.

I was very aware of the continuing restoration around the Docks as I detoured around cordoned streets and alleyways to find my way back to the hotel at the end of my first half day’s exploration.   Bakers’ Quay and environs are the last piece in the redevelopment jigsaw, having lain vacant for over a decade. Apart from the much-needed restoration of a malthouse and warehouse, the construction of a 10 storey tower as part of this final redevelopment scheme, has been, and is probably still, controversial. Described as both a landmark and an eyesore by the local new media, it was no surprise to learn from a BBC Gloucester News story that permission from the planning committee for the developers to go ahead had only been granted by the smallest of margins. I certainly hope it will complement the existing Dock area.

Some of the most recent developments in the final phase of Dock regeneration

Part of the Bakers’ Quay redevelopment site – the c1838 Pillar Warehouse projected over the dock to enable cargoes to be directly hoisted off ships

Industrial vistas and pollution along the northern section of the canal

Scenic reflections of modern industry along the canal

Sitting comfortably, waiting for ‘anything to bite’ (probably bream)

As the sky darkened further, the prospect across the canal of a warm Costa was most appealing but I continued on my mission to reach the river itself. As I quickened pace, I was overtaken by various canal users – narrowboats, kayakers and keen rowers from the Gloucester Rowing Club, some of whom were practising their timings alongside their buddy cyclists… hmmm, yes, on the tow path! As I walked south, the urban landscape gradually gave way to pleasant woodland areas and attractive banks replete with almost ornamental russet autumnal plants bearing a multitude of different seed heads. I learnt later this is part of the Gloucester Nature Park, a new project masterminded by the Gloucestershire Wildlife Trust and partners, which will transform some of the undeveloped land around the Severn to create new accessible habitats alongside other environmental benefits. Clearly, the local people I spoke to are very much in favour of such an endeavour. Just before I took the turning off along the road towards the river itself, memories of the Sharpness canal section came flooding back –  swing bridges, gaily decorated longboats with their pretty flower pots and even a bridge-keeper’s house almost identical to the one I’d photographed at Purton.

The Sims Swing Bridge and some more narrow boats

Teasels and other autumnal foliage form fascinating natural art creations along the canal bank

Chris Witts’ ‘adolescent’ Severn near Elmore

The first flotilla of debris following recent rains