I needed to get out the flat this morning , the sun was beaming down with no threat of rain and being a Bank holiday I knew the atmosphere out would be pleasant. I had to do something but didn't really know what so decided on a stroll under the Clifton suspension bridge since I've never done that before. I normally walk to my allotment past the create center and through Greville Smythe park so it was going to be a familiar route simply turning right instead of left after crossing that spooky bridge with the 'no buses' and 'hippie scum' graffiti on it.
I just didn't realize how pretty the walk would/could be , I had an inkling but until you are there dwarfed by surrounding rock all your problems paling into insignificance you cannot appreciate the magnitude and the beauty that is Bristol. I kept walking along the riverside pathway occasionally waiting for families of polite cyclists to pass in unison until I came to an archway with the national trust emblem on a sign to Leigh Woods.
It was strange stepping into the woodland since it is not sealed off at all but I still felt like I was entering another world. The ground leapt up either side and all sorts of plants old and new sprouted from the healthy earth. Some plants further up the ridges would shiver and birdsong bounced off rock and tree. The pathway made up of dirt and jutting rocks snaked upward and over the un-flattened/unblemished natural contours of the land.
Maybe it was because I was surrounded by tall woodland as I walked into that small valley that I felt a little uncomfortable, perhaps a useful primitive mechanism of elevated caution as I was at a major disadvantage in the low ground. I imagined light agile creatures with talons silently leaping from high points , kites and kestrels swooping down toward me , death from quiet sources unlike modern man-made death from large caliber tubing. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience even if I might make it sound that way.
Quick stroll that this was I decided to head back and got to the Cumberland basin where loud ragga could be heard, others were stopping at the bridge and looking around to see where the source of the bass was. Two lads had parked up their push bikes carrying huge speakers next to that huge dis-used building next to the create center , as I passed them an elderly gent had decided to join them for a bit and was rolling up what I can only imagine was a cigarette. Such a contrast to the tranquility of the woodland and only 10 minutes walking difference.
After that little stroll it is hard to decide on what to do next with my day. The short little trip out has shown me how accessible the local woodland area is , that was a mere 20 minute walk to be surrounded by a more natural less tamed Greenland, there were plenty of bike trails and the promise of networks to quaint somerset villages all showing promise for future excursions. I love Bristol.
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