Highs and lows

Hello you lovely people! Are you ready for the second installment of my travelogue? I know I am! 

And we were definitely ready for another day of adventure on Monday the 10th of June, even if the weather gods once again did their best to dampen our enthusiasm. Although we were woken up by the rain pitter-pattering on the cowshed's roof, the sun was out when we finally set off to our chosen destination, making our spirits rise and our hearts beat with excitement!

For the third year in a row, we'd ordered a National Trust Touring Pass, which offers excellent value for money. The difference this year was that we no longer had to obtain a physical pass, which could only be done at a limited number of properties. Moving ahead with the times, the Trust had gone digital and entrance to any property was now through a barcode and/or reference number supplied to us by email.

This meant that we weren't obliged to go to Powis Castle to obtain our pass. So, what did we do? Exactly! Same as we did in previous years, our first proper day would be spent at the red castle perched dramatically on a narrow ridge above its world-famous terraced gardens.

The property is just across the border in Wales, and getting there involves a leisurely drive of about half an hour, the road meandering along the border, welcoming us to Wales one minute and back to England the next.

Walking up from the car park to the castle's courtyard, taking a shortcut across a grassy knoll rather than following the tarmacked path (boring!), we were escorted by one of the resident peahens and her brood of pea-babies!

Powis Castle was built in the mid-13th century by a Welsh prince - Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn - who wanted to establish his independence from his traditional enemies, the aggressive princes of Gwynedd in the North-West of Wales. 

The castle has been rebuilt several times and underwent intensive renovations by Sir Edward Herbert (1542–95), who acquired the castle in 1587. In the 18th century the title passed to the Clive family, although part of the inheritance stipulated that they should change their name to Herbert.

Further refurbishments followed in the early 19th as well as the early 20th centuries, the latter by George and Violet Herbert. Having lost both sons - in WWI and WWII respectively - there was no immediate heir to inherit the estate, which prompted George to leave the castle, garden and part of the deer park to the National Trust in 1952.

Potted history lesson done and dusted, it was time to descend into the garden and explore the first layers of the garden terraces. Although this was no less than our fifth visit to the castle, we were still mesmerized by the breath-taking panorama with its backdrop of rolling hills, made even more glorious by the dome of blue sky and dramatic cloudscape.

One of the garden's most eye-catching features are its cloud-like clipped yews which tumble over the terraces and date back to the 17th century. In late summer and early autumn the estate gardeners spend several weeks trimming the 14-metre high topiary bushes aided by a hydraulic cherry-picker!

A statue by the famous 18th century garden sculptor John van Nost, of Hercules slaying the Hydra or many-headed serpent, is taking pride of place against the backdrop of cloudy yew hedge.

As our stomachs had started rumbling by now, we interrupted our explorations by climbing back up to the Courtyard Café. Regally striding into our direction was one of the peacocks who rule the roost here. I wonder if it was Colin, Alan or Perry? Or perhaps one of the later additions to the menagerie, Mr. Humphreys or Captain Peacock? Whoever he was, he didn't stop to pass the time of day and nor did he oblige by fanning out his tail feathers.

The moody sky spoke of imminent rain and indeed, while I was safely ensconced into an alcove in the café there was a heavy downpour which made the people who were enjoying cups of tea in the courtyard flee inside for shelter. It was over in less than 5 minutes and in fact Jos, who was queueing for food at the time, hadn't even noticed.

After lunch, it was time for a walk in the wilderness. Or rather: Wilderness, with a capital W, which the wooded ridge opposite the castle is known as.

On previous occasions, we were thankful to take refuge from the heat of the sun by walking under the canopies of the great oaks and exotic trees in this informal part of the garden. Now, at a mere 12°C, we were shivering in spite of wearing many layers under our leather jackets. At one point, I was even lamenting the fact that I'd neglected to bring gloves!

Passing the stable pond and the plunge pool on our way to the pet cemetery on the highest level of the ridge, we were stopped in our tracks by the sight of a giant foot. This is the Patagonian Foot, which was sculpted in 1987 by Vincent Woropay (1951 - 2002). 

As directed by the nice chap at the garden checkpoint, we were making our way to the estate's latest attraction, an impressive tree carving skilfully created by the renowned local artist, Simon O'Rourke. 

We were duly impressed by the two friendly dragons - well, they're wyverns, actually - guarding two eggs from which their offspring are hatching. Both adults carry saddles on their backs, so that you can let your inner child take you on magical adventures.

As we continued our walk in the Wilderness, we kept catching glimpses of the castle perched on the opposite ridge. Then, after making our descent into the lower reaches of the garden, we arrived at the edge of the Great Lawn, offering a magnificent vista of the castle and its frothing layers of terraces. 

The terraces at Powis Castle are said to be the finest surviving example of a 17th century terrace garden in Britain. 

When George Herbert, great-grandson of Clive of India, inherited the title of  Earl of Powis along with the castle and estate in 1891, his wife Violet persuaded him to let her improve the garden. 

The Fountain Garden is one of the additions made by Violet, replacing a kitchen garden which she considered unsightly. On our previous visits, we thankfully made use of the pink and blue deckchairs bearing the National Trust emblem set out on the lawn here. This time around, they were conspicuous by their absence, so we sat down on a sheltered bench soaking up some welcome sunshine.

In 1912, Violet commissioned the spectacular wrought iron gates near the fountain garden as a present for George’s birthday. Above the gate is the Powis coat of arms, and surmounting each pillar is a wyvern (a legendary dragon-like creature), one of which is holding a severed hand in its mouth.

For those who are intrigued, the key difference is that a wyvern has two legs, whereas a dragon has four.

What comes down must go up, so eventually we had to climb up to the courtyard again via several seemingly neverending sets of stone steps. 

At the foot of the steps which lead from the Orangery Terrace to the Top Terrace (below, top right), we met the oldest peacock in residence, dating from the 1800s, cast in lead and with its tail feathers fully fanned. Having arrived at the top, two real life peacocks accompanied us on our way out.

After re-joining our car, we drove back across the border to England for a relaxing evening at the cowshed.

And look, I even braved the sub-standard temperatures to show you what I was wearing underneath that orange leather jacket!

Continuing with the highs and lows, we'd planned a day of charity shopping and sightseeing in Bridgnorth on Tuesday. 

This time, the weather gods tricked us into thinking it would a fair weather day by treating us to full-on sunshine from the moment we got up. More fool us, as we'd hardly started out on our 50-minute journey to our destination when the first drops of rain appeared on our windscreen.

Grey skies and sunny spells, with the odd spot of drizzle thrown in, would be our lot all day, and the prevailing blustery wind made sure that the mercury didn't climb higher than Monday's 12°C.

After parking our car in High Town, we trawled the town's many charity shops, searching in vain for some long-sleeved garments to join my meagre supply of cold-weather clothes. It was in the final shop that I came across this peasant-style embroidered long-sleeved denim blouse, which was new-with-tags from Sainsbury's Tu label.

Mission accomplished, we had lunch at the town's branch of Wetherspoon's, The Jewel of the Severn.

Bridgnorth, which lies in the south-eastern part of Shropshire, sits high on a sandstone cliff with spectacular views of the Severn Valley. The town is actually divided in two – High Town and Low Town.

Our first port of call after lunch was St. Leonard's Church, which stands in a peaceful close of its own at the highest point of the town. While I was taking photographs, Jos was already taking shelter from the biting wind inside the church porch. 

The red Gothic tower of St Leonard's dominates Bridgnorth's skyline. Inside, the church has the airy vastness of a cathedral. Seemingly medieval, it is in fact almost entirely a Victorian restoration. This is because disaster struck during the Civil War when St Leonard's was used by Cromwell's troops as an ammunition store. A cannon shot caused it to explode, and fire swept through the town. The church was repaired, and in the 17th century, the magnificent nave roof was installed. Most of the current church dates from the 19th century.

Eight sets of ancient donkey steps connect High and Low Town and we took the so-called Granary Steps leading down from St. Leonard's to the River Severn. 

We were sheltered from the wind here, so we ambled around the quayside, where I patiently waited for a break in the traffic crossing the Severn Bridge to take a photo of the iconic Ridley Seeds ghost sign.

Next on our itinerary were the sandstone rocks nestling beneath Castle Hill. These contain a number of caves, one of which is known as Lavington’s Hole, a 70 foot tunnel under Castle Hill dug by Colonel Lavington during the Civil War. Knowing that the Royalists stored their gunpowder in St Mary's, his aim was to blow up the church. However, the tunnel was never completed as the Royalists surrendered on the 26th of April 1646.

The tunnel's entrance is still on show today, but due to safety reasons it cannot be entered. Not that my claustrophobia would have allowed me to do so ...

What comes down must go up, part 2. But there was no way that we would attempt another set of those donkey steps! 

As the famous and much-loved Cliff Railway re-opened in March after having been out of action for 14 months, we were obviously raring to return to High Town in style again.

It might look quite steep - in fact it is one of the steepest funicular railways in Britain - but there's nothing to it really, even if going down is a bit more stomach-churning than going up. 

The railway operates two cars on parallel tracks. Connected by steel ropes, the carriages serve to counterbalance each other – as one rises to the top station, the other runs to the bottom station. 

I've made a little video while we were going up to give you some idea.

And surely the panorama which opens up when you're at the top, of Low Town and the Severn Valley beyond, is simply breathtaking ...

It was far too chilly to remove my jacket while we were out and about, but as I couldn't possibly leave you without showing my outfit, we once again briefly stepped outside when back at the cowshed.

I combined my groovilicious maxi skirt - last worn in May, here - with a pink cotton cable-knit jumper, a fuchsia leather belt and my wooden discs necklace from Accessorize. Even layered with a vest and long-sleeved t-shirt and with a cardigan worn on top, I was still feeling the cold ...

We had to be up early the next day as we had some very exciting plans ... but that, my friends, will be for next time.

See you soon!