Getting In To Bristol
Immediately on departure, on Thursday, twenty-ninth August, we passed through Hanham Lock. We managed to go straight in and as there was a wide-beam coming up the river, we were able to drive straight out again, heading down to Bristol.
At this point the river is wide but with high rising ground on either side. The scenery was pleasant enough but there was little else to see and what building there was seemed uninspiring, at best.
The Only Building We Saw Below Hanham
From here on there was nowhere we could moor if we had wanted to, until we got to Bristol, where there is no free visitor mooring at all. At Netham Lock, we turned off the main river into what is known as the Feeder Channel. At this point, although we seemed to still be a long way away, we were in the hands of the Bristol Harbour. We had been obliged to make a booking and the lockkeeper gave us directions to go straight through to where there was a pontoon we could pull onto. We were given a map and a short briefing about the harbour. Then we were left to head down the channel.
After a couple of miles, as we were preparing to turn sharp right past Temple Meads station, the main city began to appear around us.
Approaching The Turn To Temple Meads
It was a really stunning way to enter a very busy area that seemed huge and confusing while we tried to find our way to a visitor berth.
We spotted the pontoons at Arnolfini, turned in towards them and went past, trying to see where we should moor. We went under Peros Bridge and realised we would need to turn around. We tried that but soon found that, with the wind across the water, we didn't have enough room to get round. As we struggled with that, the lid from the plastic bucket holding our anchor chain suddenly blew off and disappeared across the water. We started to move further up, only to realise that two big, very fast, harbour ferries were flying up the inlet, right behind us, to discharge passengers at the end. We waved them past and then kept going and turned further up, away from the bridge structure and the moored boats but under the gaze of a huge crowd of gongoozlers.
Finally, back under Peros Bridge, we moored up safely on the inside of one of the pontoons, where the Harbour Master's boat suddenly appeared to take our payment and very helpfully, give us all the information we needed about water and services etc. They also went and retrieved our lid and brought it back to us so, at last, we were free to relax and soak up our surroundings, best described with a few images from Google Maps.
Bristol Floating Harbour
Our Mooring From Peros Bridge
Looking Up From Peros Bridge To Cascade Steps
Having gathered our wits, after lunch, Archie and I went out and explored the whole of the Floating Harbour between Prince Street Bridge and Cumberland Basin, checking out everything we had been told about and anything we might need to access during our stay. The area seemed absolutely vast.
Views From The Harbour Office
It was a hot, sunny, August afternoon, so there were huge numbers of visitors everywhere we went and it was hard to take it all in. Gradually, the pieces started to fall into place and a more intelligible view began to emerge.
Back at the boat, the hire boat moored on the pontoon ahead of us was struggling to get water. The pontoons had several electricity points along their length but for some reason, the only water point was a locked cabinet high up on the quayside and right up towards the main channel. A very long hosepipe was kept by the gate to connect and get the supply down to the mooring level but it would not reach most moored boats without connecting their own long hose to it as well. Of course, the hire company had not supplied "Spotted Sandpiper" with the in-line connector they would need to do that. Fortunately, we were able to help them out so they didn't have to go without. Then we settled down on Thursday night and we didn't really find the noise of the nightlife around us was that intrusive.
Our eventual journey plan was to go out of Bristol and enter the Gloucester & Sharpness Canal at Sharpness. That meant going down onto the tidal River Avon for about seven miles to Avonmouth and another eighteen miles or so up the tidal Severn Estuary to Sharpness. Because of our relatively low power and the nature of the tides we would have to do that in two legs, with a stopover in Portishead on the way. There was quite a lot involved in arranging this so, for those who are interested in all that, here is a link to a page with the details:
<The Bristol To Sharpness Crossing>
Those who already know all about that stuff should just read on.
A Weekend In Bristol
We had been told that another mooring, further down towards the locks, was quieter at night. Based on our experience on Thursday evening, however, we thought it simpler to head back to where we started, which may have been a mistake.
On this Friday night, the atmosphere around the harbour is probably best described as "vibrant". There is a security gate from the pontoons up onto the quayside but then you are right in the heart of the eating and drinking visitor centre of Bristol. The arrival of a live-aboard wide beam, on the opposite side of the pontoon, soon made it all the more lively. It was the home of a girl who had cruised into Bristol to celebrate her twenty-something birthday with all her old college friends. This first night was an opportunity for them all to come clip-clopping along the metal pontoon, at random intervals, crank up the music on what was, presumably, intended as a full-scale public address system and sit out on the top of the boat catching up at the tops of their voices.
The party did, eventually, die down and by then, the bars and restaurants all around were closing, so things became a lot quieter. Then, on Saturday morning, at seven o'clock, the clean-up crew arrived to muck out the "Ritorno Lounge", just across the water. Apparently, they felt things would go a lot quicker if they turned on some club music and played it at full blast through the speakers facing out over the docks. That put an end to any thoughts of a lie-in and didn't bode well for the rest of the day. Mercifully, they turned it off at about eight o'clock and this wasn't repeated on Sunday.
There were few people around first thing and we quite enjoyed the relative peace and quiet to start with, watching the steady build-up as increasing numbers of visitors arrived to enjoy the pleasures of a summer Saturday in "Brizzle". We had Queen Square quite close by, a tree-lined lovely park for Archie and we took advantage of the many cafés around us to hunt out some freshly brewed coffee and a pain au chocolat. We couldn't find a good self-guided walk around Bristol but we set out shortly after noon and headed up to the Cascade Steps, where a small square housed a host of food trucks, offering every type of street food imaginable.
Having dealt with lunch we found our own way up to Cabot Tower in Brandon Park to the north west of the city. It was built at the end of the nineteenth century to commemorate the famous voyage of John Cabot in fourteen ninety-seven. He sailed west from Bristol in May and discovered land which he called "New-found-land" and claimed for England. He had been hoping to find a new trade route and believed he was in Asia, which seems, somehow, appropriately Bristolean. However misguided he may have been, this Victorian homage is both a useful landmark on the skyline and a fantastic viewpoint over the city.
Cabot Tower - Courtesy of Visit Bristol
From Brandon Hill we followed our best instinct through the city to the far end of Castle Park, to the north west. On the way, we did discover a number of interesting areas of Bristol and no doubt there was much that we also missed. We did find ourselves heading down the quaint Christmas Steps and explored the busy St Nicholas Markets around Corn Street, which were full of interesting stalls.
Christmas Steps
Keep your eyes open and looking up to see all sorts of things created on the buildings around you.
In Castle Park we noticed a strange character with a small backpack who seemed to be everywhere we went, as we wandered aimlessly around. Eventually we realised that he was working his way around the park, spraying some mysterious graffiti 'tag' on every litter bin he passed. Since the symbol was meaningless to us there didn't seem much point. Perhaps someone will understand it or perhaps it was just 'art'. We felt Banksie had nothing to fear.
After about three hours we returned to the boat and watched the activity around us. We were very intrigued by the queues outside a place called the Za Za Bazaar, they were far longer than for any other establishments and just seemed to keep growing as the day wore on. We checked it out online and found the explanation. It offers a vast, all you can eat, world cuisine buffet for around ten to twenty pounds a head. No wonder it was so popular.
Later, we went across to the King William Ale House, a lovely little pub by Queen Square with great service, for a couple of beers before picking up a takeaway for the evening.
Earlier in the day we had discussed whether to move round to the 'quiet' mooring but eventually decided it was more trouble than it was worth. That seemed to have paid off. Tonight, the birthday girl was celebrating out on the town with her friends and didn't bring them back with her, so the mooring was comparatively peaceful.
Sunday, the first day of September, announced the end of summer with a rather grey morning and spits of rain. We did do a bit more sightseeing and we had found a Heritage Trail we had thought we might follow after lunch. However, the promise of a couple of hours of heavy rain and thunder in the afternoon, which materialised about three o'clock, deterred us.
There were still plenty of people around, including a guy we had noticed the day before, sitting on the quayside with his legs dangling over the side just above the mooring pontoons. He was back again this afternoon, just as drunk in appearance, sitting in the same place, holding his bottle of beer. All of a sudden there was a splash and there he was, in the water, just as Sue had predicted. We were going to see if we could help him but he seemed to know exactly what to do. By the time we were outside, he had swum to a ladder on the side and started dragging himself out. A couple of passers-by helped him up and he just returned to his original precarious position, sitting on the side in his soaking wet clothes. It was not that warm today and he must have been cold. It seems the police were called and they spent some time trying to persuade him that he needed to go home, eventually leading him away, presumably to make sure he got there safely.
There was another round of confirmations that the arrangements we had made were all still in place for the next day. Then we went round the boat securing loose objects, taping up possible water ingress points, checking anchors and lines and generally preparing the boat for an early start in the morning.
Double Crossing The Severn
After such a long spell of fine weather up until Saturday it was disappointing that Sunday night was very wet and Monday morning was grey, murky and damp. We were due to meet the Bristol Pilot in Cumberland Basin at seven o'clock. We were ready to go by half past six, all in our life jackets and it was still dark when we cast off at six-forty. This time, we were well aware of the care needed when backing out toward Peros Bridge. Sliding out into the main channel, the first of several spells of rain and drizzle started as the dawn gradually came up around us. On the plus side the wind was dead calm and the temperature very mild.
Junction Lock was open for us and we entered Cumberland Basin on the dot of seven o'clock. We waited a few minutes for Huw, the Bristol Pilot, who was drinking tea in the Dockmaster's Office, to join us, then he came aboard and took the tiller. The Entrance Lock was so large that there was no turbulence or any real sense of movement as we dropped down. Then the gates began to open and we went out onto the River Avon.
This trip had been built up in our expectations to be something of a roller coaster ride. The boat would be plunging through the peaks and troughs of the waves on the estuary, whipped up by the wind, with white water breaking across our bow and the hull rolling violently in the conflict of the strong currents and the falling tide.
In our case, nothing could be further from the truth. The mist that shrouded the banks around us betrayed the complete absence of any wind. The magnificent sight of the Clifton Suspension Bridge was so lost in the fog that we were just barely able to make out the shape of the structure.
Clifton Suspension Bridge - probably
We couldn't miss the M5, though, being rather lower to the ground.
Huw chatted about his experiences as a pilot while tea and bacon sandwiches were served as he kept in touch with local shipping movements on his VHF radio. As we headed out of Avonmouth he took us a bit further into the estuary, to avoid getting in the way of an incoming car transporter, before turning back towards the south shore and Portishead Lock.
Approaching Portishead Lock
The lock was open for us so we went straight in, at which point Huw was no longer licensed to handle the vessel so we took over the tiller again. As the gates opened we were directed to the temporary staging pontoon, just beyond the lock gates, on the right. We turned around and tied up at about half past nine, just two hours since we had left Entrance Lock in Bristol.
We had to check in at the Marina office, where we were given a lock out time of five-thirty, which was later than expected and would see us arriving at Sharpness in the dark. A little later we had an anxious message from the Gloucester Pilot asking us to confirm that we had got the message that this had been a mistake and we should be ready to leave at four-thirty instead, which was good news.
Portishead Marina is full of sailing boats and motor cruisers. It is very well developed to be a premium leisure resort with shops, bars and cafés around and nicely landscaped residential apartment buildings alongside and leading down towards the head. Another map from Google shows how the place is laid out.
We now had seven hours to just wait for the next tide. The weather had improved, if not the visibility so, we had some coffee, then Sue headed off to find Waitrose supermarket and I took Archie for a walk out to the RNLI station at the entrance, around the Royal Inn and up to Beacon Point with its views out to the open sea. On the way, we had a good look at the approach and what it is you have to beware of if you don't know the channel and tides.
The Sandbanks Lurking Outside The Lock
Lunch at the Mokoko Bakery and Coffee shop took us through to about two o'clock but left us twiddling our thumbs for another couple of hours.
While we waited, we had one short burst of heavy rain around half past two but after that, it was dry but grey and humid. We were all set to go by four-fifteen and Carl, the Gloucester Harbour Pilot came on board about ten minutes later. The lock gates opened as we were introducing ourselves and we went straight into the lock from the pontoon. A few minutes later the bottom gates opened and Carl took us out into the estuary.
This leg, too, was slightly anti-climactic. It was a little less murky, with some hints of sun behind the clouds. There seemed a threat of rain chasing us up the channel but the winds were light and the sea was flat calm and apart from a brief shower off Sharpness, we got away with the weather.
We did have a better sight of the two Severn crossings than we had had of Clifton Suspension Bridge, first with the new crossing to the south
Prince Of Wales Bridge - Now Carrying The M4
and then the old suspension bridge further north from Aust to Chepstow, where the estuary narrows.
The Old Severn Crossing - Now Redesignated As The A48
Carl was an excellent guide, pointing out the various landmarks on either shore and explaining why we were taking the path we did. Considering that Sharpness was on the eastern shore and the same side we had departed from, it was interesting to understand why we were sometimes nearly in Wales.
It is usual for vessels, particularly commercial shipping, approaching from the south, to pass Sharpness on the starboard side and then loop round and work back to the lock and harbour entrance against the flood tide. The navigation notes are blandly worded but carry an implied threat to the unwary:
" The tidal rate should not be underestimated by small craft having limited power. On both flood and ebb tides there can be a strong flow across the entrance to Sharpness in excess of 4 knots. Between the piers a strong flow may remain, and adequate preparation and timely manoeuvring will be required to avoid being set up on to the piers."
By the time we did reach Sharpness, dusk was already falling. As the sea was still calm, winds were light and there were no commercial shipping movements in the area, Carl decided to go straight in towards the lock. He approached the task with the calm confidence of his immense experience but still, one could tell, from the change in concentration level, that this was a calculated risk. There was a quiet sense of relief, as well as satisfaction, when we were safely in the lock.
All the way up, Carl had been in touch with a beautifully restored, timber hulled "gentleman's launch" that was coming up from the south coast. As we passed our lines to the CRT lock crew the launch was already in front of us in the big lock chamber, so the gates closed behind us straight away. As we waited, I handed Carl his fee, in used bank notes, as requested. In return, Carl gave us a nice brass plaque to commemorate the crossing. It was unexpected and we will carry it with pride but set against all the costs involved, pound for pound, it really ought to have been made of gold! A few minutes later the lock was full and were able to follow the launch out into the actual Gloucester & Sharpness Canal in the deepening gloom.
The low-level swing bridge through the docks was already open for us and just beyond the channel to the disused Sharpness Old Locks was a towpath mooring where we could pull in and spend the night. It was fully dark by the time we were tied up and we were tired out. We still had to go round taking down the rather redundant tape and restoring things to their usual position but after that, we could relax and contemplate the days events.