Uphill Salt Marsh

The Old Church of St. Nicholas, Uphill

  

The weather at this time of year is perfect for walking and the nature reserve to the south of Uphill village was my destination.  I presumed the village was so named because of the hill upon which sits the Old Church of St. Nicholas but apparently this is not the case.  The Domesday Book of 1086 records the name as “Opopille” whilst the Pipe Rolls of 1176 show it as “Uppehill”.  In Olde English “uppan” means above whilst “pyll” is a tidal creek – so it is more likely the village was named because it was above the tidal creek.

Uphill Salt Marsh

The muddy banks of creeks wind their way through the salt marsh providing a safe haven for small craft. 

Uphill Pill

The Wharfside Tea Rooms is perfectly located for a refreshment (and comfort) stop.  Thank goodness because the public convenience just down the road is still non operational – this time the notice reads that it is closed due to vandalism.

Black clouds were gathering overhead but as a bus had just left a walk along the beach back to Weston seemed like a good idea.  It was difficult to believe that we are in August – the height of the summer season – because the beach was deserted apart from a few kite surfers.

Kite surfers at Weston-super-Mare

Deserted beach at Weston-super-Mare

Carters Steam Fair has set up on Beach Lawns in readiness for the August Bank Holiday weekend and it was fun to see the vibrant colours and listen to all those wonderful rock n roll tunes from the 1960s. 

I smiled reading the sign on the Victory Dive Bomber which recommends that pregnant ladies and people with weak hearts should not attempt this ride.

 I am neither but still could not be tempted on !

Down low at Uphill

 

It was the perfect summer’s day for a walk to Uphill - there are SO many lovely walks in the area that it is difficult to stay away.

On this occasion I walked along the beach from Royal Sands and never fail to find another perspective for photographing the posts in the sands. 

Before leaving home the news was reporting that more people had been trapped in the sinking mud and had to be rescued – why do they not read the signs? The view of Brean Down is sorely tempting but as yet no cycle or walkers path across the River Axe.  If only the ferry were still operating.

The day trippers had not yet arrived at this part of the beach and all was calm and peaceful as I headed on around the salt marshes.   A few small boats were berthed in the estuary and their bells tinkled softly in the breeze - it could have been a million miles from civilisation.

Across the tributary lay the boat yard and the Wharf Side Tea Rooms - a very good place to stop for a pot of tea (and comfort stop).  The staff were friendly and service excellent.

A previous post mentioned the fact that Weston Town Council has refurbished the public conveniences in Uphill.  It had been my intention of ‘paying a visit’ to these but I was met by a notice telling me they were “broken” and would be opened as soon as possible.  

 “So sorry for the inconvenience”!! 

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!!