England Coast Path - Portishead to Clevedon

The old docklands at Portishead have been tranformed into a non-tidal marina

A long, tough day of inclement British weather and mixed spirits (though sadly, not of the gin and tonic type!).

We woke at 6.30am to brilliant sunshine and the prospect of a pretty long day's walking. Harri is usually meticulous in working out route distances ahead of us walking them, however work commitments up to the last minute meant that for once he didn't have time to properly plot our routes so our overnight stops were planned using Google directions (and road maps). Not something we will ever do again!!

I'd also made another massive mistake... wearing new and untested thick (and cheap) walking socks with my trail shoes yesterday was a really bad idea as it left my little toe (a hammertoe) very sore and blistered. Perhaps understandably, Harri and I had envisaged that flat walking would be so much easier than the hilly walking we're accustomed to in Wales that longer distances wouldn't be an issue. How wrong can you be? Those endless hard surfaces, with not a dandelion-filled meadow in sight, play havoc with your feet. My poor little toe resisted being squashed back into the same shoe that had done it so much harm the previous day but with just the one pair of shoes with me, I had little choice. It was that or barefoot walking...

We popped into the Lidl next door to grab some of their delicious croissants (the chocolate/almond ones are my favourite) and returned to our Travelodge room to eat. With no inkling that we were about to set off for a 30 mile stroll in sunshine, heavy rain and (almost) darkness, we lingered over a leisurely breakfast.

The marina lock at Portishead... the tidal range in the Bristol Channel is the second largest in the world

It was about 9am when we finally emerged to what promised to be a glorious day. We paused for a while to watch two boats passing through the lock at Portishead Marina and held our breath as a small dog, confused by the open lock gates (and temporary disappearance of the bridge), came close to plunging off the quayside to the waters and mud below.

The first point of interest today was the Royal Inn, though I only realised it was interesting when we read an interpretation board at the top of the hill above it. I pondered dashing back down for a photograph but even the shortest hill becomes Mount Everest with a large pack on your back so in the end I didn't bother.

The Royal Inn's curious claim to fame is being the only seaside hotel built by a public authority during the nineteenth century (it opened in 1831). The hotel also featured in Isambard Kingdom Brunel's ambitious plans to make Portishead the centre for transatlantic travel. A purpose-built pier would enable passengers to disembark from the transatlantic steamship, the SS Great Western (his ship), staying at the Royal overnight before heading onwards (presumably to London).

It never happened. Rather than flourishing as a tourist destination, Portishead expanded as an industrial port. A deep-water dock was built and when a pier eventually appeared (almost a decade after Brunel's death) it was used by steamers travelling to Cardiff, Newport and Ilfracombe. With the docks now gone and modern apartments and restaurants lining a yacht-filled marina, it seems that Brunel's vision for Portishead to be on the tourist map might yet be realised.

Battery Point, near Portishead

We rounded the headland to reach the esplanade and lake grounds, an area we've passed before on the Gordano Round and liked very much (there's an artificial lake, a lido and children's play area). We meandered past Battery Point, the closest land anywhere in the UK which large ships pass. There are great views across the Severn Estuary from here and if, like Harri and me, you know the Welsh coastline quite well, you can have fun spotting familiar landmarks like Aberthaw Power Station and Nash Point.

The coast path between Portishead and Clevedon is well-walked and easy to follow. It also remains delightfully close to the actual coast, which is always a bonus.

It took 60 men 18 months to build Clevedon Pier

What wasn't so good was the huge grey cloud which was heading across the estuary in our direction... talking about directions or one at least, Clevedon's most recent claim to fame is providing the location for One Direction's latest music video (it was filmed on Clevedon Pier, described by late Poet Laureate Sir John Betjeman, as 'the most beautiful pier in England'). While not a fan myself, I can see that the arrival of the world's most successful boy band might have caused something of a local stir.

By now, we were getting ever so slightly nervous about the weather. The wind was getting noticeably stronger and there was that cloud... yet in the other direction, there was sunshine and blue sky. We quickened our pace, for some reason looking over our shoulders every minute or so, as if we could somehow outwalk the storm cloud that was chasing us (just like Jake Gyllenhaal managed to do with frost in the very silly 2004 film, The Day After Tomorrow).

Clevedon celebrated Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee with a grand oil-lit bandstand

If you haven't visited Clevedon, it's a great place with lots of interesting things to see (and an awful lot of benches). As we walked (for me, read limped) along the seafront, we passed a wonderful bandstand (built in 1887 to celebrate the Golden Jubilee of Queen Victoria) and a restored drinking fountain (also Victorian).

As I photographed them, Harri wandered off to find somewhere to stop for elevensies. Clevedon's planners clearly recognise the need to provide sheltered places to sit along the promenade - I couldn't believe my eyes when Harri found a row of benches facing away from the sea and protected from behind by a high wall.

We were delighted to find this row of sheltered benches on Clevedon's seafront

We had miles left to walk and the weather was about to change for the worse, but for now we settled in a (relatively) warm place to enjoy some Lidl chocolate (it's the best).

England Coast Path: Severn Estuary to Bridgwater Bay by Harri Roberts will be published by camau in ebook format in August 2014.

England Coast Path - Chepstow to Portishead

Setting off from Chepstow... where's the sun?

Our first day can be summed up in one word... bridges!! We might have been going nowhere near Bridgwater today but these man-made constructions certainly dominated our walk.

We set off on a blustery, grey day, relieved that the torrential rain of the previous day had stopped but fully anticipating another downpour before too long.

Our first bridge of the day was the Old Town Bridge at Chepstow. Harri's parents kindly dropped us off and, had the weather been more spring-like, they were planning to walk with us for the first few miles out of Chepstow. The threat of rain put paid to that idea and so we waved goodbye to them at St Mary's Church (the wonderfully ornate west doorway dates from the late 11th century when Chepstow Castle was built).

The first few miles through Chepstow were familiar as we followed the Wales Coast Path (the signage is much better than when we walked this section in June 2011).

Surprisingly, we seemed to be the only ones walking across the Severn Bridge

I'd been really worried about carrying a heavy rucksack for the first time but, whether I'm stronger than I realised or just packed wisely, the additional weight wasn't bothering me unduly.

I was childishly excited about crossing the Severn Bridge (the old bridge... pedestrians aren't allowed on the Second Severn Crossing). Building work started in May 1961, a month before I was born, and it opened in September 1966. There is a plaque on the English side which lists the names of the six men who were killed during the five-year construction period.

Half a century later, and with a second crossing just miles down the estuary, it's hard to imagine a time when people had to drive all the way Gloucester to cross the water or catch the ferry from Beachley (or perhaps travel underground via the Severn Tunnel).

Flat and easy walking along the promenade at Severn Beach

It's only when you're actually walking over the bridge that you realise how peculiar its design is (and the reason it frequently closes in high winds). At the centre, the part most exposed to the elements, the road is raised several feet above the pedestrian walkways on either side. I'm sure there must have been a solid engineering reason for this seemingly illogical decision but it escapes me.

We reached the far side - and England - windblown and cold, but in high spirits. There's really nothing like setting out for a long-distance walk, even if it's only for a few days. It's the promise of the unknown... the lure of new places and experiences.

Severn Beach is usually a lovely little place but at low tide and with threateningly grey skies, it didn't look quite as pretty as I remembered (I have mixed feelings about the rich alluvium silt that's so much a characteristic of coastal places along the Severn Estuary). Still, the walking was easy and much flatter than we're accustomed to in Wales.

At over 3 miles long, the Second Severn Crossing dwarfs its older neighbour

A few miles ahead loomed the Second Severn Crossing, which has an overall span of 3.186 miles and dwarfs the original. It's good to have a landmark in sight and for many hours this was ours; first, as we slowly approached the vast six-lane structure and later in the day when we'd turn around and use it as a way of gauging how far we'd walked.

The interesting footbridge over the M5

Our next few bridges weren't quite as spectacular...  we crossed the M49 motorway and then the M5 in quick succession during a long detour inland necessary to cross the River Avon. Then it was the 'big one' - we had to cross the motorway bridge (M5 again) over the river. We've done this before at the start of the River Avon Trail and it's such a high bridge that it feels a bit like being in a helicopter looking down on the housing below. Unlike the Severn Bridge, pedestrians and cyclists are completely separated from the busy (and very noisy) motorway lanes by a high barrier and the only vehicles you can see whizzing past are lorries and coaches.

The world looks very different from a higher vantage point

We reached Portishead marina at about 6pm, the perfect time for a day's hiking to draw to a close. The whole area was once a busy dockland; however, like many coastal towns, where there was once industry and grime there are now pristine apartments and moorings for yachts.

21 miles later we arrive at Portishead

Our feet were aching but we'd survived a 21 mile hike carrying heavy rucksacks. Just another four days to go...

Channel hopping

Looking down towards the Severn Estuary from Portishead

The hot weather’s coming in from India, my 16-year old daughter informed me earlier this week, interpreting the term ‘Indian Summer’ a little too literally.

Whatever. The source of this week’s delightful spell of autumn sunshine is immaterial, the important thing is it’s here and it’s a great excuse to ignore the housework and other home-based tasks and head for the great outdoors.

Once we’ve decided we’re definitely going hiking, the conversation in our house goes something like this:

Harri: So where do you want to go?

Me:    The seaside.

Harri:  What about doing something local? We could walk from the house.

Me:     I want to go to the seaside.

Harri:  I thought you might like to try this new circular walk I’ve read about.

Me:     I wanna go to the seaside.  I wanna go to the seaside.

Harri:  So you’d prefer to go to the coast?

No prizes, then, for guessing that we’ve walked most of the Welsh coastline within two hours’ drive of our home – and we’ve done lots of it several times.

Keen to keep me happy while venturing to new pastures, Harri put on his thinking cap and after extensive research, i.e. checking out our walking bookshelf, he suggested doing the longer loop of the Gordano Round in North Somerset. 

The route involved a long stretch of coastal walking so I agreed. Unfortunately, there was just one little problem – the walk started in Portishead.

Now, for the past 30 years – and based on the verbal say-so of just one disenchanted former resident – I’ve imagined Portishead to be an ugly and industrial place; somewhere to keep away from at all costs.

I couldn’t have been more wrong and I hereby retract all my previously stated views about it.

Portishead is a lovely place, very reminiscent of Minehead, with the same interesting high street shopping and a magnificent, sweeping esplanade (which we viewed from our higher position on the coast path). 

Like other resorts along this stretch of the Severn Estuary there’s a lot of mud at low tide, but on the whole, it’s a very pleasant coastal town, with a marina, a lake, independent shops, distinctive architecture, and plenty of woodland and green areas.

The stretch of coastline towards Clevedon is much easier on the legs than Amroth–Pendine; it’s also popular with dog walkers so keep glancing down to avoid a close encounter with the squelchy stuff.

During the morning, we got talking to an interesting older man who told us how he’d sold his permanent home in the area some years back to buy a £40,000 camper van, and how, on the night of the purchase, he lay awake in bed wondering, ‘what have I done?’  He’s had a great and varied life since, living in different European countries and enjoying the sort of freedom most people only dream about.

Afterwards, Harri and I pondered the UK’s national obsession with bricks and mortar. The Thatcherite dream of home ownership has blighted millions of lives and condemned many people to mundane (and often badly paid and insecure) jobs for one purpose – to service the massive debt that is their mortgage. Why are we Brits so prepared, so enthusiastic, to sell our lives, our energies, our souls, in return for four walls and a patch of grass?  Anyone selling a camper van?

Staying on the subject of over-priced property and frenetic lifestyles, there was evidence of both in Swiss Valley, a stunningly pretty area near Clevedon, where you take your life in your hands just trying to cross the road.  

Fortunately, crossing the split-level section of M5 motorway in the Gordano Valley was easier, though looking down at six lanes of fast-moving traffic from the high-level footbridge was a teeny bit vertiginous (a good word, that one, and acquired in Madeira where almost every hike is vertiginous). 

Nearing the end of our 15-mile loop, we stopped for a thirst-quenching glass of Aspinal’s cider outside The Black Horse, a drinking hole of the very best kind.

Hiking and cider drinking. Could a more pleasurable way of passing an Indian Summer be known to man or woman?