This month, Andrew Swift explores the Avon Gorge, taking a closer look at how the introduction of a small herd of feral Kashmir goats has allowed rare plants and insects to flourish in the gully once again…
The Portway, flanked by soaring cliffs, with Brunel’s suspension bridge high above, is one of the most impressive approaches to any British city. The construction of this celebrated stretch of road, now only three years short of its centenary, came at a high price, however. The gorge through which it was driven is not only visually stunning but also one of the most important botanical sites in Britain.
Yet, despite the Portway’s devastating visual and acoustic impact, it carved a relatively narrow furrow through this once tranquil spot. For those prepared to put up with the Portway’s incessant noise, there are still many hidden delights to discover in the green spaces – and green corridors – that survive on either side of it.
A good place to set off in search of them is Sea Mills station, where the River Trym flows into the Avon, and where the Romans established a port called Abonae some 2,000 years ago. From here a riverside path leads, via the Portway, to a series of natural habitats, including a wildflower meadow, Victorian hanging gardens, an arboretum, a former deer park, and – most spectacular of all – a rocky gully grazed by feral goats.
Sea Mills station is served by half hourly trains between Temple Meads and Severn Beach. If you’re arriving by train, cross the line by the exit and go through a gate. If you’ve arrived at Sea Mills by bus, car or cycle, however, head for the station and go through the underpass under the line.
After both paths join up, they curve left past the Old Signal Station along a narrow track through grassland high above the river. After 350m, when you come to a flight of steps, carry on past it to continue along the riverside path for another 1,100m. The path ends at another flight of steps. Go up it and continue along a pavement alongside the Portway.
After 600m, when you see a brick hut by the entrance to a car park across the road, cross at a traffic island, carry on past the hut, and, after a few metres, when you come to a low fence, keep to the left of it. As it curves left, head for a footpath sign in the hedgerow and follow a path up through a kissing gate. This is the gully, shown on old maps as Walcombe Slade, and created aeons ago by water running down it. Today, though, it is as dry and uncompromising a landscape as you’re likely to find. Its steep sides shut out the sound of the Portway as you climb past a squat battlemented tower – the ventilation shaft for a mile-long railway tunnel under the Downs.
Because of its situation and the limestone of which it is formed, the gully has a distinct microclimate, making it warmer than the surrounding area. Add to that its poor soil and you have the ideal conditions for some very rare plants to thrive. Chief among these are two so specific to this area that their common names are the Bristol Rockcress and the Bristol Onion. The problem is that many of these plants are not only rare nationally; they’re not that common here either, and a few years ago it was realised they were in danger of disappearing altogether. Being diminutive, they can’t put up with much competition, and were being bullied out.
For centuries, the Downs and the rocky slopes below it were grazed by sheep, who not only nibbled the turf but also stopped trees, bramble and ivy getting established. When grazing was phased out in the 1920s, however, they could spread unchecked. This was clearly a case where simple rewilding – letting nature take its course – would result not only a loss of biodiversity but also in the potential loss of endangered species.
A solution to the problem was found in Wales, where herds of feral Kashmir goats had been keeping the slopes of the Great Orme clear of scrub since the 19th century. In 2011, six of them were shipped to Bristol and released into the gully to see if they could do the same job here.
If the goats of the Great Orme seem vaguely familiar, it’s probably because, during lockdown, they achieved notoriety after taking over the deserted streets of Llandudno and running riot. There was no chance of that happening in Clifton, however, as the goats in the gully were penned into a ten-acre site behind a goat-proof fence.
There was also no chance of them breeding, as they were all bucks or billies. Unfortunately, this meant that by 2019 the herd had dwindled to just two. To replenish it, in March 2021 four Bagot goats were brought in from the Street Goat Project – a co-operative community project set up in 2015 to establish a network of goat dairies on unused land across Bristol. Four months later, four more Kashmir goats arrived from the Great Orme.
Not only have the goats in the gully been a resounding success, with their determined browsing giving rare plants chance to flourish; they have also become an attraction in their own right. Needless to say, however keen visitors are to see them, they need to be given enough space to get on with what they’re doing, so the protocol is to keep to the paths, keep your distance, don’t feed them, and, if you take a dog along, keep it on a short lead.
Once you’ve explored the gully, go back down it to cross the Portway and start heading back. Instead of going back down the steps to the riverside path, however, carry on for another 100m. Just before the central reservation ends, use it to cross the road to a gap in the hedge and go through a kissing gate into Bennett’s Patch & White Paddock.
This twelve-acre plot was originally pastureland, but, after a short spell as an industrial site, was used to dump rubble from the Bristol Blitz. After the level of the ground had been raised several metres, it was converted to a sports ground, but when this closed it lay neglected until Avon Wildlife Trust took it over in 2015 as part of Bristol’s year as European Green Capital. Given such a turbulent history, it’s astonishing how tranquil and unspoilt it is today, testimony to the hard work that’s been put into its restoration as a crucial link in the gorge’s wildlife corridors.
After 100m, you pass a path on the right leading to Bishop’s Knoll – you’ll be coming back to this later, but for now bear left to walk along the west side of the meadow. This is where you’ll find Bristol’s wicker whales, first unveiled in Millennium Square in 2015. At the far end of the meadow is another sculpture, a memorial to the courage of the women of Bristol in the Second World War, crafted in wood and unveiled in 2019.
Head back along the east side of the meadow, past newly-created ponds, and take the path to Bishop’s Knoll you passed earlier. After going under the railway, you emerge at the foot of the terraced gardens of a mansion demolished in the 1970s. Long abandoned, this magical spot was acquired by the Woodland Trust in 1986 and is the gateway to an arboretum stocked with exotic and ancient trees and a labyrinth of woodland walks with views over the gorge.
After a leisurely exploration of these magnificent woods, go through a gateway at the north end of the arboretum, turn left and then right to head into Old Sneed Park Nature Reserve. The grassland of this former deer park is studded with ancient oaks, while over to the east lies an old lake. To return to the starting point, however, follow the path northwards and go up a steep flight of rough steps at the end. After taking a couple of left turns, head steeply down to the Portway, cross over, go down steps to the left of the railway bridge and follow the riverside path back to Sea Mills station.
