It was the end of a beautiful Spring day, but as the sun set the air took on a clammy chill. The route back from the pub took us past the deserted grave yard opposite the towering gatehouse of St Briavels Castle. Cobbles, rounded by centuries of wear, led us through the gateway, lined by heavy studded oak doors. A folder by reception listed ghostly experiences witnessed in the castle, so it was with some trepidation that we climbed the stairs to bed!
Dave climbed the narrow creaking stairs to the top of the East Tower and his room for the night, along with several other members of our group. As they settled down for the night there was no inkling of the horrors to come.
Snuggled down in his duvet, it was the early hours of the morning when Dave became aware of a hideous apparition that materialised next to his bed. The pale outline of a shambling bearded figure could be seen in the moonlight slanting through the window. It was accompanied by a deep sigh and an eerie gurgling sound that echoed round the stone walls. Dave exclaimed in horror and the spirit responded “Sorry. It’s a bottle. I couldn’t face going down all those stairs to the loo”. As Dave settled back into a deep sleep, the action was just about to get started in the ladies dormitory.
The State Apartments are known for shadowy apparitions and ghostly violin playing. It was midnight and the temperature in the room had plummeted. As Cressida stumbled out of bed for a trip to the loo, she tripped on a single cloggie that had mysteriously transported itself from Esther’s bed to the middle of the room. Almost certainly evidence of a poltergeist. It was also apparent that Esther had vanished in the night! By coincidence a sinister sheeted figure was seen haunting the sofa by the toilets. Dashing back to the safety of her bed, Cressida hunkered down until eventually rays of sunshine announced daybreak. We thought the terror of the night before was finally over when a haunting, insistent tune crept through the dormitory startling all the women into instant wakefulness. It only stopped when Lynn answered her phone.
On Sunday before we left, the Manager threw back the rug in the East Tower to reveal an oubliette dungeon complete with the remains of a hosteller who didn’t complete his chores. A great weekend and a horrible time was had by all…. Ha, ha, ha, ha – imagine sinister laughter at this point.
Ali
Canoeing on the Wye
The river Wye is famous for its canoeing and is very close to St Briavel's Castle, so eight of us paired up in four Canadian canoes to paddle the 8 miles from Kearne Bridge to the steep gorge and rocky outcrop of Symonds Yat. After being each kitted out with a bounancy aid, paddle and waterproof barrel, we were taken upstream by road to paddle back down. We joined a steady stream of fellow paddlers being taken down river by the current, including some gentle rapids. We picniced part way on a beach by the river below the mighty Yat Rock before continuing onwards to Symonds Yat and journey's end. Nobody got wet except for the downpour just before the end. To complete the day, we drove up to Yat Rock view point for a tea and cake with spectacular views of where we had just canoed.
Jim
Go to the Devil
For most of us our Saturday walk in the Wye Valley included a stiff climb up to the Devils Pulpit. Situated on a limestone ridge high above the River Wye, the Pulpit is a rocky outcrop with a magnificent view of Tintern Abbey. Legend has it that the Devil used the Pulpit to taunt the monks below in order to tempt them away from their holy vows. Or possibly it was just a good place for the English to have a go at the Welsh from. It certainly was a view to envy.