Berries by the Banwell

Wonderful Worle is where today’s walk starts from.  However, a word of warning for anyone expecting to find the toilets at The Maltings open for business – they are closed awaiting refurbishment by Weston Town Council !

 

When I did this walk earlier in the year it was a joy to see Magnolia Cottage living up to it’s name:  

The next 15 minutes of walking is less than exciting being through residential areas & passing the crematorium - but it is a necessity in order to gain access to the path which runs beside the River Banwell between Ebdon and St. George’s.

Gardens are like orchards at this time of year, full of trees laden down with rosy red apples.

The river is a favourite place for doggies in the height of summer and I saw several jumping in and enjoying the cool water.  The banks are lush with berry bushes – does this mean a harsh winter ahead?

 

A butterfly plays amongst the thistle flowers

Whilst sparrows and starlings fluff their feathers and relax amongst the brambles

At St. George’s it was a matter of finding my way through The Badgers and The Pastures before coming out on Queen’s Way and heading back home -

via Sainsbury’s which was the ONLY comfort stop en route.

Weston-super-Mare - Above the Cove

In Victorian times Weston was a booming seaside resort.  An area on “Flagstaff Hill” was landscaped and turned into beautiful gardens with a rest pavilion enjoying stunning views.   

The gardens were named Prince Consort Gardens in memory of Prince Albert.  In 2013, due to tireless efforts by a small group of volunteers, the gardens were designated a Town Green meaning the area is safe from development.

It is a delight to walk through the gardens in the early morning sunshine with hardly a soul to be seen.  Just a mile along The Prom. the beach is packed with holidaymakers but here all is peaceful.  The only sound is water trickling from a fountain in the lily pond.  But a sense of sadness overwhelms me - the Victorian Rest Pavilion is boarded up and looks decidedly neglected – a police warning notice adorns it’s once beautiful windows.

The map at the entrance to the gardens shows two small rectangles marked with the letters PC – these are just to one side of the lily pond.  What could these letters stand for?  Well, I reckon there is a fair chance that they once referred to a Public Convenience.  On looking around I see nothing that resembles a toilet block – but wait a minute, what is behind that very high hedge?  Further inspection reveals a padlocked gate but I can just see what appears to be a small building inside.  No doubt, these were the conveniences of days long ago but perhaps the area is now used by those who maintain the beautiful borders.

In 1867 Birnbeck Pier was built at the foot of the cliff joining a small island with the mainland.  In the 21^st. century the view from the gardens is still as spectacular as it was in Victorian times but regrettably Birnbeck Pier is now a crumbling old lady.  

What fun she must have seen in the past – what a bustling place it must have been.  Now, even the RNLI have had to retreat as more and more planks fall to the sands below.  Even in it’s state of disrepair – or perhaps because of it’s dilapidated state - it is a location which draws me back over and over again.  How I wish I could get a little nearer to photograph it’s crumbling structure close up.

In January 1868 just a few months after the pier had been opened a couple of fishermen were walking across when they heard a loud snorting beneath their feet.  Thinking it was a tipsy man they made their way onto the beach to investigate.  To their surprise they found it was a large seal left “high & dry” on the pebbles.  Do we still get seals in Weston?  I can only provide a photo of one from New Zealand.

Riversdale, Wairarapa, New Zealand

At one time the Pier Master was a respected and well known member of the community.  Henry Alfred Cole had moved to Weston as a child in the 1870s.  He spent a career working for the Pier Company first as “Collector of Tolls” then as Pier Master.  He died in the Toll-house on 5 June 1937 and was buried in the Milton Road Cemetery a few days later.  

Walking along from Prince Consort Gardens - at the top of the steps which lead down to Cove Café (another of my favourite watering holes) - I come across another set of boarded up loos.  Apparently these were closed in 2009.

Never mind – because a little further around the Marine Lake path can be found The Cove Restaurant & Bar and that does have a toilet block to one side?  Well – it used to have a Ladies and Gents to one side!!  In 2014 the Ladies has been boarded up and what used to be the Gents is now a pay-to-enter Unisex facility.  There is a queue a mile long -

so I just have to wait until I get home 

Up High at Uphill

This is one of my very favourite local destinations.  To climb the hill to the old church of St. Nicholas and photograph the headstones in the little churchyard is wonderful.  But then there is the added bonus of the stunning view across the bay to Worlebury Hill.  What beautiful places my search for graves (and loos) take me too.  

For those who tread in my footsteps and who may need a place to “Spend a Penny” without buying a lunch in a local restaurant or a pint in the local pub there is a place to head for.  Along Links Road, just on from the boatyard, the public convenience has recently been refurbished.  The gleaming colours of blue and white bear testimony to the fact that this facility is now operated by Weston Town Council.  

In the quaint churchyard atop the hill can be found the grave of a famous detective from New Scotland Yard.  It was the search for this grave which first took me to Uphill.  In a former, much younger life, I spent many years working in that iconic police building and I return occasionally to give talks to the Metropolitan Police History Society.  Perhaps one day I may tell the story of Frank C. Froest and show the photographs which I have taken in the churchyard of St. Nicholas.

Very briefly, Frank C. Froest spent a 34 year career with the Metropolitan Police working his way up through the ranks from Constable to Superintendent. 

 Sgt. Frank Froest

During this time he dealt with some very high profile cases – and got into some scraps. His body bore the scar of a knife wound given to him by a murderous Italian, but on retirement in 1912 he was described as being “in perfect physical condition, his muscles like steel and his sinews like whipcord”.

It was at the Ascot races that news of Supt. Froest’s retirement reached the King.  People were waiting to see the Royal party leave but suddenly messengers were seen darting left, right and centre in search of the Superintendent.  “The King wants him at once in the Royal Box – he will not go until he has seen him”.  Had there been a robbery?  Had there been an assassination attempt?  No - nothing like that at all.  Somebody had mentioned to His Majesty that Supt. Froest was about to retire and the King wanted to make certain that he was able to shake his hand and bid him a long and happy life.

Froest retired to Weston-super-Mare and took up a second career as Hon. Superintendent of the Royal West of England Sanatorium.  His wife died shortly after his retirement and is buried in Yatton along with their young son who had died back in the 1880s.  Frank Castle Froest MVO JP died on 7^th. January 1930 after an operation in Weston Hospital. 

On the day of the funeral it was snowing heavily as the memorial service was held in the Sanatorium Chapel.  Following the service the coffin was borne from the chapel by four Police Sergeants and two Constables.  In the midst of the snowstorm the cortege made its way up to Uphill Old Church where the coffin was laid in a grave lined with ivy and white asters.  There were many floral tributes amongst which was one which read “With deep sympathy from the Criminal Investigation Department, New Scotland Yard”. 

A few months later details of Mr. Froest’s will were published in the local newspaper.  His medals were left to his daughter to be retained in her family as heirlooms.  An anecdote to this story is that some 70 years later the medals were put for auction and made £1500.  Such is life in the 21^st. century. 

If on some winter’s day you should notice a lone figure making her way up the hill to the churchyard amidst a snowstorm then it might be me.  My photo archive is sorely in need of pictures of Mr. Froest’s grave with large sparkling snowflakes falling all around!!