We wanted to be in Bristol for K’s father’s birthday on 2nd April so we decided we would try again to find a nice spot somewhere in the Forest of Dean. Our original plan was, as usual, to leave after work on Friday night but in the event we were both tired after a busy week and so we decided to wait until Saturday morning, leave early and have brekkie on the road.
We left Cleeton St Mary at about 9.00 and headed down to Symonds Yat in the Wye Valley, scene of some of T’s less successful rock climbing antics in the days of his youth – adventures which included picking his climbing partner out of the top of a tree after he (the luckless partner) had plummeted from the top of the cliff, his fall being arrested by the welcoming boughs of a large oak. The poor bloke had already suffered after T had stuffed his chalk bag with holly leaves. The chalk is used to coat the hands and fingers, soak up sweat and give an extra bit of friction in moments of panic. T had decided to prove to his 'friend' that artificial aids were unnecessary on such simple climbs
The Rosabella was cruelly treated on the lane up to the big Forestry Commission carpark, it being narrow enough to pull the rubber insert from her offside trim. (It is noticeable that Rosie’s nearside is far cleaner and ‘dinge’-free – probably something to do with a left-hand drive vehicle being used on UK roads). There was no real damage and T was able to replace the trim quickly with the aid of his best Pound Shop mallet.
After breakfast we wandered down to the river where we spent a lovely hour in the early spring sunshine, watching the antics of novice canoeists on the rapids just down from the hotel. A lovely young chocolate Labrador lived up to his breeding by making a beeline for the water despite the exhortations of his owner. There were swans on the river too - although we saw no one with a broken arm there was a woman from Birmingham who was out of breath.
While we were on the way back we heard a crashing in the undergrowth behind us. Our first thought was that it was a dog having fun but it was a beautiful doe clattering up the track behind us. We stood stock still, but she vanished into the trees before we could reach for our cameras.
We sat and ate ice creams in the picnic area before heading off deeper into the forest in The Rosabella. T was remembering various Dennis Potter plays, especially ‘Blue Remembered Hills’ in which the children were all played by adults including Colin Welland, and Helen Mirren. The author was born in the Forest of Dean and this autobiographical piece is set there. It made a great impression on T at the time (the early 70s he thought).
We eventually found a nice spot by the side of a stream at a Forestry site called Wenchford. There was a family using one of the barbecue grills provided at the site but we pulled along the track to a little clearing and decided to stop and at least have dinner in the beautiful setting. There was a sign on the barrier saying that the carpark was locked at 8pm – it was only 5 so we knew we had loads of time. T fettled, trying to find the cause of a leaky tap while K sat and relaxed, between passing tools and ignoring T’s bad language.
A young couple who had pulled up close to The Rosabella and walked their dog seemed to be having a problem closing the bonnet on their Clio. T, unable to resist either the challenge or his nosiness, sallied forth with WD40 primed. A bit of a spray and a waggle with a screwdriver and they were sorted. They also told T that although the Forestry Commission Ranger would be around at some point to close up, he was a nice bloke and would probably let us stay.
K prepared supper – smoked haddock, broccoli, and a crème fraiche and chive sauce, helped down with a beautiful Sancerre – and just as we sat down to eat the Ranger duly appeared. He told us that he had to lock up and that we would have to leave. T asked him what time the barrier would be open in the morning and was told that it would be about 6.30. T suggested that we wouldn’t mind if he locked us in but he replied that he could lose his job if he did that. T then put on his sad face and explained that we’d just settled down to dinner and asked him what would have happened if we’d been out walking when he came. He said that he would have had to put a letter of explanation on our windscreen and lock us in. When T then suggested the obvious, the Ranger said that, as we looked like ‘normal people’, that would be ok providing we realised that if we had an emergency in the night the barrier would be locked and there was little mobile signal. The only emergency that T could imagine was running out of Sancerre so we duly accepted all responsibility, he gave us the bit of paper and we all ended up happy.
We settled down again to our beautiful supper. It was almost dark by now so we lit candles and ate our meal accompanied not only by Maria Callas on the stereo but also a nightingale in the bushes next to us. It was a sublime duet and will remain an abiding memory of a moment of paradise.
We slept well, as usual in The Rosie, but woke early to a fantastic dawn chorus, with percussion provided by a woodpecker. Whatever the aural version of spectacular is, this was it and we just had to get up and make the most of it. We had a cuppa and went for a walk along the old railway track that the Commission has converted to a waymarked walk, stopping to record the birdsong along the way. Back along the bank of a stream, spring flowers starting to appear and even a rope swing to amuse us. A beautiful standard poodle, out for a bounce with his owner, came ‘pronking’ towards us, lifting off vertically with excitement and then carrying on his exploration with gusto.Back to The Rosabella for breakfast and then on to Bristol for the birthday lunch. Just a few little glitches to iron out and then all systems go for our planned trip to France over Easter. What a great weekend!
View Forest of Dean, April 2011 in a larger map
No comments:
Post a Comment