The devil's in the detail

Too big for the camera so just half of the Royal Crescent

Being in Bath is like walking around a set for a Jane Austen film while surounded by an Aga saga.
Every piece of architecture right down to the local Sainsbury and the public toilets is Georgian or pseudo Georgian while the shops are as resolutely upper-middle class as can be: designer jewellery, designer kitchens, designer clothes, you get the picture.
But, submerged by foreign tourists and surrounded by affluent living, it's easy to retreat to the local Wetherspoons (yes, there is one; even here). Instead we decided to try and get to grips with the city in the best possible way: go for a guided walk.

Fine frontage of Poultney Street Bridge

But look behind the scenes and the other side's a muddle

We've done it in Liverpool and again in York and now here. Those first two were excellent and so was this one. And free. Yes, free you penny conscious boaters. The City Mayor's tour guides are so free they won't even take tips.

Georgian stone and Nick Grimshaw glass thermal baths

What we got was two hours of fascinating insight into the history, characters and architecture of Bath. The hot springs that bubble naturally out of the limestone rock have made the city a place of pilgrimage since before Roman times but they made the first serious city here and a bath house whose remains are now the place's number one tourist atttraction.
But after they left, though folk came to take the waters for centuries, it was the Georgians who turned it from a health cure to a social centre, our guide John explained.

Fine frontage of Bath Abbey

Angels on the stairway to and from heaven

The wealthy Georgians loved flashing the cash and had more to flash than many knew what to do with. They gambled, gamboled with women, ate, drank and generally behaved like people with too much money do even today.
And Bath became the place to do all this thanks to a remarkable character, Beau Nash, who was the city's 'master of ceremonies'. Think of a cross between Simon Cowell, Boris Johnson and Bono. If you can! He was the ultimate p.r. man and networker. He set up parties, brokered introductions and, above all, laid out a whole code of behaviour that ensured the place didn't degenerate into an 18th century Magaluf. He also made himself shed loads of money and ran numerous mistresses.
Anyone who was anyone came to Bath and continued to do so. Every other house seems to have a plaque...Nelson, Dickens, the lot.

Dickens' house and The Old Curiosity Shop

But while Beau ran the show, John Wood built the theatre. He was the man who created the Georgian Bath we see today. His Palladian architecture is everywhere; his classical squares and crescents abound. It was extremely clever; he created squares with magnificent frontages which were actually sub-divided so that a visiting chap might have rented just a room but could still make a show of going in through a huge and imposing shared front doorway.
And these houses – like the Georgians – were all about show, about front. Wood drew up his plans for the front facade of his buildings and then let jobbing builders do what they liked round the back. So, walk round the back and you'll see a hotch-potch of heights and styles. Or look at the flip side of the famous Poultney Bridge and see what an ungainly mess it is.
 Even Bath Abbey has its amusing intricacies. Either side of the front are carved ladders on which angels climb, carrying souls to heaven. Okay, they have wings but they still use ladders apparently. But how do they get down to earth – why there's an angel going head first down again.
Climax of it all was the magnificent Royal Crescent which stands at the high point of the hill that Bath is built on and in its time looked out across farmland to the river below. If you fancy living there, the local estate agent has a two bedroom apartment for just £1.5m. Nice garden – but no parking.

Each floor has different columns but why...

To the casual eye there is a certain sameness to this endless parade of classical columns but as John pointed out, the devil is in the detail. As in The Circus where the columns are different on each floor – Doric, Ionic, Corinthian. Nobody knows why incidentally and there are a host of theories of the Dan Brown fashion to explain. Then there's the house with the odd-one-out Gothic porch on the next street. Oh, and lots more.
Thanks John for a fine tour.

This Bath is rather crowded

The thickly tree lined Avon and nowhere to moor

Tonight we find ourselves in Bath – somewhat accidentally as we didn't mean to come all the way up river from Bristol but the moorings along the Avon are few and all were full.
So we are here and startled by how busy the placce is with boats.We are moored on the river moorings below the first locks of the K&A. Two years ago we were one of only three or four boats here; tonight there must be 20 plus. Everything from little old wooden ship's lifeboat to great big Dutch barge. And all of us on what are theoretically 48 hour moorings. Hmmm.

In Bristol waterside development rushes on

We were sad to leave Bristol behind but at £26 a night time is definitely money. From the water is the best way to see the scale of the floating harbour – not just its huge size but how little of the original commercial docks remain. After the swingbridge that marks the exit from the main basin, there are more survivors of the old waterside warehouses but those that haven't been apartment-ised are in the throes of conversion – and the process continues on up the river to the very edge of town. Here the vast concrete skeleton of a Parcelforce office block awaits the wrecking ball as the next in line.

The concrete shell of an old Parcelforce block waits its turn

Once through Netham Lock that guards the inland entry to the floating harbour, maintaining its consistent height against the tides, we met the River Avon once more for a virtually entirely rural route towards Bath, cutting through steep sided valleys rich with trees.
A couple of miles upstream Hanham Lock marks the start of Canal & River Trust territory and time to ferret out and dust off windlasses unused since way back at Stourport.
The Avon locks are on a grand scale – 75ft long and 16ft wide and built out of rough stone blocks, as stately as stately homes. The big gates are not so much heavy as slow; they'll move but at their own measured pace.
The elegant yachts and fancy cruisers of Bristol were well behind us now: we soon saw our first ex oil rig lifeboat and the inevitable strings of timeworn moored craft.

You're never far from an ex-lifeboat on the waterways

We did spot some wildlife, though. No kingfishers, sadly, but a riverside deer and, remarkably, a huge terrapin the size of a dinner plate basking on a tree stump. So, a chance for some mega x65 telephoto work with the new camera.

Avonside: a terrapin the size of a plate and a young deer

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts at rough mooring we pottered on to Bath where frenetic waterside development returned on a grand scale. A huge 2000 home development is underway and even a river bridge has been chopped out and moved as part of it.
We've caught our first glimpses of the gorgeous Georgian stone architecture of Bath. Tomorrow it's time for a proper look around.

Making Sunday special

The jerk chicken and goat curry certainly tasted pretty good

Our last full day in Bristol has been a busy one. And a hot one – the sun shone and we heated ourselves a bit more with a couple of spicy West Indian lunches from 'Ada Spencer's Amazing West Indian Cuisine' stall at the Make Sunday Special event.
Unfortunately Sunday didn't prove as special as we expected. Last time we were here the whole city centre was closed off to traffic; bands played, there were street games, performers, kids' play streets, the lot.

From rhythmic drumming band

To melodic string quartet

This time it was a much scaled down event centred around the covered markets area and waterfront. Plenty of food stalls, yes, some kids' stuff, a flea market and a medley of musicians from a drumming band to a string quartet. It was fun but not as much fun as last time.

And a street market for flea enthusiasts

Apparently it's scaled back because it cost too much to run and the edge of town traders weren't keen on the loss of business as everyone was sucked into the centre. Now they spend an hour or two and wander off to explore elsewhere – as we did.

Fine views in all directions from Cabot Tower

But we started the day with a stiff walk to stretch Seadog Brian's legs as well as our own. After all, he would be left doing on-boardsecurity detail while we were enjoying Jerk Chicken and Goat Curry.
We headed up the steep Brandon Hill park to the 105ft Cabot Tower at its top, built in 1897 to celebrate the 400th anniversary of John Cabot who sailed the Matthew from Bristol and discovered what became Canada.

You can probably spot the SS Great Britain in the distance

And here's a x65 zoom of the top of its mainmast

I climbed the steep spiral staircase to the top and was rewarded with spectacular views in all directions. And several minutes of palpitations. Once recovered, it was a good opportunity to play with the ultra-zoom lens of my new Canon bridge camera.

Sometimes you have to bend the rules a bit

We rounded off our day with a walk up the steep hill (it's all steep hills in Bristol) that is Park Street, pausing to watch skateboarders practising their jumps over a ramp made of a bent-over "No Skateboarding" sign. And taking a look at one of the Banksy street art paintings that Bristol is famous for – now somewhat, er, modified in form.

Seems the paintballers have had a go at Banksy

At the top of the street is a fine University of Bristol building and next door to it an even finer building that is the Bristol Museum and Art Gallery.

The impressive exterior of Bristol Museum

Both, incidentally, were funded in large part by William Wills whose name every smoker will recognise from the WD & HO Wills tobacco empire, creators of Woodbines, Embassy, Gold Flake, Capstan Full Strength and a lot more that made me cough my student lungs out until I managed to kick the habit.

And equally impressive interior with its Bristol Boxkite

It's a fascinating place with a serendipitous collection of items from Egyptian mummies to stuffed sea birds as well as a fine collection of art from all eras.
An intriguing way to end a day that, while not as special as we'd hoped, turned out to be far from routine.

We really do like Bristol

Bristol - it does what it says on the can

The billboard says it all. We loved Bristol the first time we visited and second time round it's maybe even better.
The harbourside is so vibrant and full of energy; from the crowded, noisy bars and restaurants ranged along by Pero's Bridge to the streams of boats enjoying the water, everyone's having fun in the sun (when there is some).

Harbourside variety from chic houses...

Personally we're happy to give the football crowd like roaring noises emanating from Wetherspoons and Pitcher & Piano a miss and stroll along the harbour walks, taking in the architectural enterprise that's converted the redundant area into everything from ritzy little houses to massive apartment blocks.

...to blocks of apartments squeezed into every inch

There's certainly money in property here: virtually every square foot has been redeveloped or is in the throes of being done. Not surprising when a flat with a decent harbour view commands nearly half a mill!

Deceptive frontage of the cathedral is actually Victorian

But there's more to the city than young people with trendy haircuts clutching bottles of designer beers. On this trip we've visited a few highlights we didn't have time for previously. First was Bristol Cathedral, a a large, handsome but oddly boxy building standing on its own between the library and a big Marriott hotel rather than surrounded by the traditional ecclesiastical grounds with their bishop's houses and the like.
Very strangely, though it looks medieval, half the cathedral was built in Victorian times - including the huge twin towers that are its major feature.
This all replaced an original nave which had been demolished back in the 16th century.
It's a splendid building inside but I'm afraid we didn't warm to it. Too many of the memorials and tombs seem to be of bishops and it leaves the impression of the church simply commemorating itself. The exception being the tombs of various Berkeleys who we met back at Berkeley Castle and whose wealthy empire clearly enveloped Bristol as well.

The elegant St Mary Redcliffe church

By contrast, a far more interesting church is the St Mary Redcliffe which Queen Elizabeth number one described as "the fairest, goodliest..parish church in the land". Can't say fairer than that.

It boats a stunning vaulted interior

It's a terrific building with a magnificent spire and luscious detailing inside. Dating back to the 13th century in places it is full of interest including the lavish tomb of William Canynges (or Cannings), a 15th century Bristol merchant who was arguably the richest man in the country at the time, with nine ships manned by 800 sailors. (Incidentally there's also a floor slab to his cook, William Coke, compete with engraved colander and knife.)

Sir William Cannings

And his cook

There's also a tomb to Admiral William Penn who at his death was owed some money by the king. As he was a touch hard up he gave his son a few thousand acres of America instead.
We haven't just been looking at churches. Today we trekked up the steep hills out of the city to the delightful Georgian suburb of Clifton. It has always been one of the most affluent areas of the city, built from the ignoble earnings of the tobacco and slave trades.
Today it has a serious dose of affluenza. with its posh designer kitchen shops, 'artisan' butchers and bakers, wine bars and restaurants, all of them teeming with the well heeled elite who, the cynic wonders, are probably employed in today's equivalent of those Georgian era high earners - banking and marketing.

The great man dominates new visitor centre

Topping off – in the literal as well as metaphorical sense – the walk was the famous Cilfton Suspension Bridge of the great Isambard Kingdom Brunel.

Seen from the bridge, our route into the harbour

We've been there before but having boated up the river below it gave the views a special extra this time round. As did a visit to the brand new Visitor Centre, opened only this week by Princess Anne to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the bridge's opening.
It's a great Centre, with plenty of historical and engineering background about the bridge which was only completed several years after Brunel's death.
To round off our weekend we have 'Make Sunday Special' to look forward to when the city centre is closed to traffic for a day of fun, food and entertainment. Can't wait.

Because it was there

Our little fleet of narrowboats lines up for the Severn Bridge

We started off loving the Kennet & Avon; by the end we were thoroughly fed up with it. Sadly, I don't think we'll be rushing back. That's what I wrote after our last trip down the K&A.
So why, less than two years later, are we back? To be honest, I'm really not sure but we spent a few days staring out at the Severn Estuary from Sharpness and kept thinking "we'd love to do that" so now we have!
Like mountaineers, we did it because it was there.
The only date in our diary is mid-September when we have to be back in the Midlands. Originally we'd planned to go from the G&S to the Avon and see how things shaped up from there. But, looking at the estuary, I mused "we could go down to Bristol, up the K&A, the Thames, the Oxford, a bit of the GU, the southern Stratford, down the Avon and up the Severn to the Midland canals once more." It's just a bit of a longer way round!
The estuary isn't a simple trip – and not a cheap one either. It can only be done in favourable weather (which is light winds; even lighter ones if they're from the SW). It's a two-leg trip, using the ebbing tide from Sharpness, then a lay-over in Portishead to pick up the incoming tide carry one up the Avon to Bristol itself.

Five narrowboats and a clutch of cruisers at Sharpness

The expense? Well you need a Severn pilot for the channel is pretty zig-zag and the tidal swirls are daunting in places. That's £190. A four hour lay-over in Portishead Marina was £22; it'll be more if you have to stop overnight and three nights mooring in Bristol floating harbour is an eye watering £79. You can stay for fewer but there's a lot to see and do (and spend even more money on).
So, to the trip. After several days of unfavourable winds there was quite a gaggle of us waiting at Sharpness at 8 a.m. on a flat calm morning: five narrowboats, with three pilots, and a clutch of high speed cruisers doing it DIY and heading for Cardiff.

Tim our Severn pilot knows its every tricky inch

The tide races in high and fast up the Severn and this was a Spring tide so of the higher and faster dimensions. Under the guidance of Tim Butten, our pilot we pushed out of the lock and turned to face the last of the incoming tide. Even hugging an inshore route it was slow going for the first 20 minutes until the ebb began. While the others raced ahead I chugged along at the rear, unwilling to over-exert the grand old JP3 too much.
Tim directed us on a course diagonally across the river towards the west bank. Everything is done by steering for markers. These are critical on big ships: Tim, a former merchant navy captain, told tales of easing big ships up and down the estuary in fog with barely any clearance either side of the channel and not a lot from the bottom either.

The old bridge with the new one in the distance

Or of taking one of the tall ships up to Gloucester and hoping he'd got his sums right as crew members stood in the mast 'tops' while they passed under the Severn bridges with not too many feet to spare.
Soon we were aiming towards the old Severn road bridge and passed under this slim and elegant suspension bridge about an hour into the trip. From here we were into the 'Shoots Channel' where the waters from the River Wye meet the Severn and create a turbulent stretch.

Beneath its span is a turbulent maestrom of waters..

..which pushed and pulled this huge baulk of timber in our path

But that was nothing compared to what was ahead. Swirling around the new Severn Bridge was a turbulent mass of eddies, back eddies, calm spots and fast flows, like an underwater launderette all churning at different points of their cycle. Tim was helming now, thankfully, and even he struggled to negotiate a massive baulk of driftwood which floated back and forth and refused to get out of our path wherever he steered.
The bridge is an impressive structure though less elegant in its design I think. All the legs that carry the road out each side to the central structure actually stand on solid rock above the water line at low tide, which demonstrates the proportions of the tidal change. Interestingly, the nearby Severn railway tunnel which is four miles long has only its central 400 yards fully submerged at low water.
After the bridge things got a bit choppier as the headwind increased, though never to any uncomfortable extent, and soon we had the distant cranes and buildings of Avonmouth docks in view away to our left and, further in the distance, the modern blocks of flats that surround Portishead.

To the right of the small lighthouse hides the Avon entrance

Just keep clear of stuff like this when you're near the docks

There are actually two docks here, Avonmouth to the north of the Avon and Portbury just beyond it. Both can be busy but the only sizeable ship we saw was a harbour dredger that plods in and out of Portbury.

Off the Severn and into Portishead's huge lock

And so, little more than two and a half hours after leaving, we were lining up to enter Portishead lock. And what a huge lock it is, easily swallowing all the narrowboats. We tied up on floating pontoons that rise as it fills – a Niagara of water pouring in but still taking a good 15 minutes to raise us up. Pilot Tim didn't bother to wait: we paid him and he was off, up the lock ladder.

Tug Harry among the glossy plastics of Portishead

Portishead is another former boatyard now transformed into a glossy coastal marina where we steel cigar tubes looked seriously out of place. But they still took our cash!
Four hours later we were locking out once more for the final dash to Bristol. Cautious boaters might want a pilot for this bit (another £150) but there's really no need. Tim pointed out the route to the Avon's mouth on our way in and it was easy to follow. It seemed extraordinary, though, to be steering at 30 degrees upriver to counter the incoming tide as it kept pushing us strongly towards the shore.
As we turned right close to the north wall of the Avon a couple of tugs were coming out of the dock and, looking back a few minutes later, I watched a big cargo boat cross what had been our path. I'm glad we didn't meet him!
The Avon follows a twisty route that gradually narrows as it nears the city. I expected more push from the tide but was having to run quite hard to keep anywhere near the boats ahead.

Brunel's marvellous Clifton Suspension Bridge is under repair

Finally we came out of the woods and the mud banks and into the gorge where coloured dots on the rock face turned out to be climbers inching their way up the sheer face. And I thought we were daft.
Under the Clifton Suspension Bridge, one tower bandaged mummy-like for repairs, and we were at the huge lock. It's a complicated operation to let boats into the harbour: the two gates of the lock, then a hefty road bridge to be swung and a further flood gate to open. A lot of work for maybe just one little boat.

Marine mayhem. Boats of every sort at play in Bristol dock

Finally at 8pm we were into the harbour – to be met with  marine mayhem. Every sort of boating activity was underway: dinghies, wind surfers, paddle boarders, eagerly rowing sea scouts, kayakers, a rowing eight, plastic cruisers. We threaded our way carefully among them, tied up on the floating pontoons opposite SS Great Britain and I scurried off to find some fish and chips.

A wonderful sight to end the trip, the SS Great Britain

Which made me think about rushing off for fish and chips after our last estuary crossing: The Wash. I have to say that one was a much more memorable trip - watching the seals on the sandbanks, the cockle boats, beaching on the sands to wait for the tide change and the sheer sensation of being properly out to sea.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the Severn estuary; I'm glad we did it and I'd recommend anyone to give it a go but, as lifetime experiences go, it's not in the same class.

An alternative view

The pretty hillside town of Stroud

I have a soft spot for the Sixties. I can't remember much about them but I know I was there and after spending the 'summer of love' as a student in London, listening to the likes of Pink Floyd at the UFO Club I have a lingering liking for all things alternative.
Like Stroud, the town we tripped out to (in a manner of speaking) yesterday, courtesy of our Granny Passes. Google 'where do the hippies live today' and Stroud comes up not far behind Glastonbury and Totness. There's a sizeable Green Party representation on the local council and the town even boasts an Organic Hairdresser whatever that means.

Alternative enough even to claim an organic hairdresser

On Saturday it was enjoying itself at all its alternative best with street markets, a farmers' market and and buzzing crowds of 'alternative' types with plenty of bushy beards, cheesecloth shirts and dyed hair on view.
It's a pretty little town, set on a steep hill on the edge of the Cotswolds and over the years its slightly off the beaten track location and fine surroundings have attracted artists, writers and crafts people of all types – there's even a 'Made in Stroud' shop.

Beside the restored canal lock is the Trust's Visitor Centre and a cafe 

I must admit that, for all its great beauty, I'm not a great enthusiast for the Cotswolds – too many Cabinet ministers and tv celebrities for my taste – but Stroud is a different matter.
After enjoying the town and an organic burger and sausage roll at a market stall we wandered down to the Stroudwater Canal where the Cotswolds Canal Trust has a lockside Visitor Centre and there's a nice  little cafe too. Which meant we could enjoy some scrumptious cake and a drink as our 'pudding' before walking a few more miles of the canal towpath.

An impressive example of what's been achieved is this canal diversion

Work nears an end on one of the final locks being restored on this section

We headed for Brimscombe, the inland port where goods were trans-shipped from the wide Severn barges to the slightly narrower Thames ones for the rest of the journey. The canal is largely in water, if a bit reeded up, and only some final work on a couple of locks needs completing.

A glimpse of the future, the canal heads into the glorious Golden Valley

The walk gives an insight into what a glory this canal will be when it is one day open, running in the 'Golden Valley' as it's known which cuts through the lushly wooded Cotswold hills.

Augustus Gloop, the Trust's dredger at work near Brimscombe

At Brimscombe, though, things come to a complete stop and, sadly, there's precious little left of the inland port whose pool could hold a hundred boats. Just a large mill and a smaller building: the port itself is now a carpark and industrial estate, the last buildings having been demolished as recently as 1965.

This car park was once a huge expanse of water holding up to 100 barges

Now there is just a sign on a dreary sixties office block

Still, the Trust has a plan and judging by what they've delivered so far – including an impressive and expensive looking diversion on the edge of Stroud and some nifty squirming round the town itself – I don't doubt they will deliver.