UK Travel - Part 9

Breaking Codes at Bletchley Park

by Paris Franz

At first glance, the town of Bletchley, some fifty miles to the north of London, appears to be an unremarkable kind of place. For a long time, as far as the outside world was concerned at least, the town’s main claims to fame were the busy railway junction and the manufacture of bricks.

As for the manor house at Bletchley Park, just across the railway tracks from the town centre, it has been known to make architectural historians shudder. Its idiosyncratic jumble of building styles – the Italianate pillars, mock Gothic arches and rococo ceilings – can most charitably be explained as an architectural experiment on the part of the Victorian nouveau riches.

Yet it was the unremarkable nature of the place that turned out to be the key to its greatness. For it was here, far from the bombs pounding London and the attention of enemy spies, that hundreds of formidably brainy people broke German, Italian and Japanese codes during World War Two.

Careless Talk Costs Lives

Such was the strength of the veil of secrecy surrounding Bletchley Park that it didn’t begin to lift until the 1970s. Even those who worked here were forbidden to talk to each other about what they did. Careless talk could cost lives, and there are many posters on display around the park warning of the perils of indiscretion.

On descending from the train at Bletchley station on a bright sunny day, I thought of what it must have been like for the new arrivals, many of whom had never left home before. If they arrived at night, they would have needed a guide, for all that the park was just across the way, as the blackout plunged everything into darkness.

For the mathematicians and classicists, linguists, administrators and messengers who were posted here, it was an introduction to an intense and demanding world.

My arrival was a little less fraught. It was a short walk from the station to the fifty-five acres of Bletchley Park, although once there, it was a little difficult to know where to start. There are a range of films and interactive displays in the entrance block, Block C, where you buy your ticket, along with a fascinating exhibition on modern cyber security. There’s also a cafe and a bookshop, and I knew I would have to be disciplined, or I would likely get distracted and never see the rest of the site.

I eventually opted to walk across the park to the ornamental lake and the manor house beyond and then make my way back. The lake was pretty and peaceful in the autumn sunshine, with a breeze rustling the leaves and rippling the water. It was easy to imagine code-breakers taking a well-earned rest by the water’s edge.

Breaking Codes and Social Barriers at Bletchley Park

The lake used to freeze over in winter, allowing for skating. It was also the scene for one of Bletchley Park’s most famous anecdotes, concerning the mathematician Josh Cooper. He was walking by the lake one day, so the story goes, coffee cup in hand and deep in thought. He then threw up his hands, tossed his coffee cup in the lake, and shouted, “I’ve done it!” before racing back to one of the huts to crack another code.

Eccentric boffins are an integral part of Bletchley Park lore. The place seemed to deliberately foster an informal, slightly anarchic atmosphere, with little emphasis on rank, all the better to encourage lateral thinking. The Enigma machine was not going to be broken by going by the book.

As for the mansion, its style can only be described as eclectic. Sir Herbert Leon and his wife Fanny bought the house in 1883, and almost immediately embarked on an extravagant building programme, embracing a wide range of architectural fashions.

Inside, it is all warm wood panelling, stained glass windows, narrow passageways and chandeliers. Some of the new recruits, used to rather grander places, regarded it as a Victorian monstrosity, while for others it represented the kind of stately home they never thought they would enter. Aside from its code-breaking role, the Bletchley Park operation is emblematic of the social upheaval of the period.

The Government Code and Cypher School moved into Bletchley in 1938, as rumours of war gathered pace. The operation rapidly became too big for the main house, and a series of rather ramshackle huts and, later, somewhat sturdier blocks were built to accommodate the code-breakers and linguists.

The huts were spartan, utilitarian spaces, manned around the clock in eight-hour shifts. The evocative reconstructions, complete with soundtracks and images projected onto the walls, give a strong impression of what it must have been like. Inside, dimly lit rooms radiate off long, central passageways. Heavy blackout curtains are drawn over the windows, and piles of decoded messages, waiting to be translated, lie atop scuffed wooden desks.

Hut 8, which focused on breaking the Naval Enigma code, key to winning the Battle of the Atlantic, is a little brighter. The hut boasts a number of interactive displays, where you can test your own skills at seeing patterns and breaking codes. You can also visit Alan Turing’s office, where you can sit in his chair and attempt to look smart.

Challenges and Deceptions in Block B

Block B houses the main museum on the site, complete with multiple Enigma machines, the largest such collection in the world. Each branch of the German military had their own version, modified in various ways to increase security. The settings were changed daily, and the addition of extra rotors and a plug board made cracking the Enigma machine a much more difficult proposition. Just thinking about it gave me a headache.

The other exhibits include motorbikes used by the despatch riders who carried messages from listening posts around the country to Bletchley Park, posters, multimedia displays and the story of the cracking of the Lorenz cypher. I particularly enjoyed the tales of the double agents such as Garbo, and I couldn’t help but wonder at their nerve. Some people like to live dangerously.

The exhibition also houses a display on the work of Alan Turing, as well as a reconstruction of a Bombe machine, a large, noisy and vital construction that decoded messages on an industrial scale. Women of the Women’s Royal Naval Service, the Wrens, tended the machines day and night.

The sun was sinking as I made my way out of Bletchley Park and headed back to the station for the train to London. The visit had given me a lot of food for thought, and made me regret, briefly, that I hadn’t paid more attention in maths class.

If You Go:

♦ Bletchley Park is easy to get to. The Park is a short walk from Bletchley train station, which is easily accessible from London Euston, Coventry and Birmingham New Street. The Park is a National Rail 2For1 Attraction, which means two people can visit for the price of one, provided they both have national rail tickets and a 2For1 voucher. You can find out more information about the scheme and download a voucher at www.daysoutguide.co.uk/bletchley-park

♦ For information on the latest news and events from Bletchley Park, you can check their comprehensive website at www.bletchleypark.org.uk

Historical London Walking Tour including Westminster and Entry to Churchill War Rooms

About the author:
Paris Franz is a London-based freelance writer. She has had work published in a variety of web and print publications, including The Independent, Wanderlust, Decoded Past and Europe Up Close. See more of her work at www.parisfranz.com

All photos by Paris Franz:
Bletchley Park manor house
Poster advertising Bletchley Park
Keep Mum, She’s Not So Dumb
The lake at Bletchley Park
Hut interior
Enigma machine

Literary London: Virginia Woolf’s Bloomsbury

by Lynn Smith

For those people who have a passion for literature, history and London, a London guided walking tour will combine all these interests. There are several such tours available, led by knowledgeable guides, most of whom have been trained by the London Tourist Board. The tours are also reasonably priced.

Several months ago, on a visit to London, I opted to take such a tour and chose the Bloomsbury walking tour as I have always been fascinated by Virginia Woolf and the Bloomsbury group.

I met the tour guide outside Russell Square Underground and we began the two hour walk from there. It was a beautiful summer’s day which allowed us to see the green and pleasant squares at their best.

Bloomsbury is in the Borough of Camden and is bounded on the north by Euston Rd, Gray’s Inn Rd on the east, Tottenham Court Rd on the west and High Holborn on the south side.

The area has a fascinating history. The name Bloomsbury is a corruption of “Blemonde” which was the name of Baron Blemonde, William the Conqueror’s vassal who received the land from William in the 11th century.

In the 18th century, Bloomsbury was open country and was considered to be very healthy. In 1660 the Earl of Southampton built his house there and laid down an attractive square in front of the house. The borough took shape as more aristocrats discovered the area; the Duke of Montague built a stylish house on the site of what is now the British Museum and the great landowning family of the Russells, the Dukes of Bedford, Gordon and Brunswick all built their mansions in the area.

In the 19th century, Bloomsbury lost some of its glamour – trade and industry moved in and the area was no longer considered to be fashionable. The British Museum was erected on its present site in 1823 and London University began in 1827.

The arrival of the Bloomsbury Group in the early 20th century gave the area its reputation as an intellectual, artistic and somewhat Bohemian area – a reputation which is still considered relevant today.

Virginia Woolf (born Stephen, 1882 – 1941) was the third child of Sir Leslie Stephen and his wife Julia. Virginia’s siblings were Vanessa, Thoby and Adrian. The family lived at 22 Hyde Park Gate, a large house always filled with children, friends and family.

The Stephen children grew up in a literary household – Sir Leslie was a journalist and had a well-stocked library, to which Virginia had unrestricted access.

When she was thirteen, Virginia’s beloved mother died and this traumatic event caused her first mental breakdown; this was followed by another breakdown when her father died in 1904. After Sir Leslie’s death the Stephen children decided to leave Hyde Park Gate (with its unhappy memories) and move to Gordon Square, in the heart of Bloomsbury, just north of the University of London.

Gordon Square is on the corner of Gordon Rd and Tavistock Place. No. 46, the house the Stephen children moved into, in 1904, was a large, elegant building, fronted by the pretty garden square. The Stephens’uncles and aunts, however, frowned on the move as Gordon Square was not considered a desirable address.

Gordon Square soon became a meeting place for Thoby Stephen’s Cambridge friends. Other visitors were Lytton Strachey, Clive Bell, Duncan Grant and later, Leonard Woolf. Virginia and Vanessa both took part in the lively discussions at these meetings, which could be described as the beginnings of the Bloomsbury Group.

After Thoby’s death from typhoid in 1906 and Vanessa’s marriage to Clive Bell shortly after, Virginia and Adrian left Gordon Square and rented a house at 29 Fitzroy Square.

Fitzroy Square

Although still in the Borough of Camden, Fitzroy Square is not strictly Bloomsbury but Fitzrovia, just further south of Tottenham Court Rd. The area was originally developed to provide houses for the aristocracy and many elegant mansions were erected, designed by Robert Adam. Building began in 1792 and was eventually finished in 1835.

In 1907, when the Stephens moved into 29 Fitzroy Square, the area consisted mainly of offices, workshops and lodging-houses. These unpretentious surroundings suited the brother and sister; they carried on with the Gordon Square intellectual get-togethers and the circle soon grew. An important addition to their gatherings was Lady Ottoline Morrell (1873-1938) – that eccentric and Bohemian patron of the arts, who lived in nearby Bedford Square.

The years at Fitzroy Square were eventful ones for Virginia – her two nephews (Vanessa’s sons) were born in 1908 and 1910 and in 1909 she accepted Lytton Strachey’s proposal of marriage but, by mutual consent, the engagement was cancelled almost immediately.

When the lease of 29 Fitzroy Square came to an end in 1911, Virginia and Adrian leased a four-storey house, No 38 Brunswick Square, which they shared with Maynard Keynes and Duncan Grant. While living in Brunswick Square, Virginia became engaged to Leonard Woolf and they were married on 10 Aug. 1912. The Woolfs went to live in Sussex where Virginia had taken a five-year lease on Asheham House. It was to be another twelve years before Virginia moved back to Bloomsbury.

The intervening years 1912 -1924

During the years that Virginia was living elsewhere, she published four books and had, unfortunately, another serious mental breakdown from which she was slow to recover. The Woolfs moved to Hogarth House in Richmond and in 1917 they bought a hand-press – and so began Hogarth Press; soon they were printing pamphlets, books and slim volumes of poetry, mainly the works of the Bloomsbury Group.

In January 1924 Virginia bought the lease of 52 Tavistock Square and the Woolfs, together with the Hogarth Press, moved into their new premises in March, where the Press was established in the basement. Tavistock Square was part of the Russell family, the Dukes of Bedford’s estate and No 52 was a typical terraced house.

The years spent at Tavistock Square were Virginia’s most productive and she became much sought after as a guest speaker at various prestigious universities.

Today, Tavistock Square is surrounded by a number of famous buildings, all of which are worth investigating. The Square was also the scene of the suicide bombings in 2005, in which 13 people were killed.

Mecklenburgh Square was Virginia Woolf’s final Bloomsbury residence. Like Brunswick Square, Mecklenburgh Square was part of the grounds of the Foundling Hospital and was named after King George III’s wife, Queen Charlotte of Mecklenburg.

The 2 acres of gardens are beautifully laid out, with lawns, trees and pathways. The gardens are only open to the public on two days a year. The rest of the year, the gardens are only open to resident key-holders.

No. 37 which the Woolfs leased, was once again, a large terrace house facing the square. They operated the Hogarth Press from No 37. The house was badly damaged during the bombing of London in 1940.

In 1941, Virginia, fearing another onslaught of her mental condition, committed suicide by drowning herself in the River Ouse.

A walk through Bloomsbury is certainly an experience not to be forgotten. There is so much of interest – graceful, elegant architecture, quiet, peaceful gardens and the all-pervading atmosphere of intelligentsia.

It is no wonder that the Bloomsbury Group put down roots here and kept returning to the area throughout their lives.

After my walking tour was over, I certainly felt that I’d come to know Virginia Woolf and her group on a much more personal level.

References: 1975. Lehmann, John. Virginia Woolf and her World. London: Thames and Hudson.

If You Go:

♦ Contact www.walklondon-uk.com or www.walks.com for information about the tours, what is on offer, where to meet, etc.
♦ Wear comfortable shoes, take an umbrella and something to drink if it is hot.
♦ Don’t forget your camera and be prepared to walk for a good couple of hours, although the pace is not fast.
♦ The guides are knowledgeable and enjoy answering questions. Now is your opportunity to get answers to those questions you’ve always wanted to ask.
♦ Make the most of the tour and enjoy it.

Photo credits:
Gordon Square, London by Paul the Archivist / CC BY-SA
Virginia Woolf by George Charles Beresford / Public domain
Bloomsbury group blue plaque by Edwardx / CC BY-SA
Gordon Square park by Stephen McKay / Gordon Square, Bloomsbury
Tavistock Square by Ewan Munro from London, UK / CC BY-SA

Browse London Historic Walking Tours Now Available

About the author:
Lynn is a retired librarian who lives in Durban, South Africa. She lived in London for some time many years ago and has returned to visit several times in the past few years. Her last visits overseas were to Eastern Europe where she fell in love with Prague and Budapest. When not travelling, Lynn enjoys writing articles for the internet and does freelance editing and proof-reading. She is a keen gardener and shares her home with her six beloved cats.

A Day By The Sea In Brighton, England

by Paris Franz

My trip to Brighton was both a response to the end of an excruciatingly long winter and an exercise in nostalgia. Brighton had been the destination of choice for many a day at the seaside during my childhood, and would be forever associated in my mind with windswept, pebbled beaches and ideas of escape. It’s been said you should never go back to places where you were happy, lest the reality not measure up to the memory, but how could I not? It’s less than an hour from London by train, and the sun was shining.

I set out from London Bridge Station and the chaos of its extensive refurbishment, prompted by the arrival of the gleaming and unlikely Shard next door, the tallest building in the European Union at 1,016 feet. It was, briefly, the tallest building in the whole of Europe, until the Mercury City Tower in Moscow overtook it.

My train left from platform five, departing smoothly with cool and quiet glory, so different from the noisy and stuffy trains of yore. The landscape was one of increasing greenery, complete with allotments and ponds, sheep and cows and horses. It struck me again, as it does every time I travel across England when the sun is shining, just how many shades of green there are, and how pretty the country is.

Taking the waters in Brighton

Brighton’s train station is still magnificently Victorian, with its soaring iron roof. The formerly sleepy fishing village of Brighthelmstone began to be transformed towards the end of the eighteenth century when the aristocracy arrived ‘to take the waters’, but it wasn’t until the arrival of the railway in the 1840s, that Brighton really put itself on the map and became the destination of choice for toffs and day-trippers alike.

I can’t remember my first visit to Brighton. It’s all a jumble of memories – sunshine, wind, ice-cream on the pier, an unsuccessful experiment with candy-floss (I was a fastidious child). I remember stumbling across the pebbles and paddling in the sea with my grandmother, and swimming farther out when I was older and bolder and getting caught by a wave just as the seabed beneath my feet gave way. My grandparents met in Brighton, and my mother was born there, and it’s always felt a little like home.

Brighton has been called London-by-the-Sea, and it’s easy to understand why. For all its relatively small size, it has that busy, big-city, cosmopolitan vibe, with many a language to be heard. Queen’s Road, which leads directly from the station to the sea, was lined with cafes and supermarkets and a gratifyingly large Waterstone’s bookshop, and was as crowded as any London thoroughfare.

I stopped for a coffee and a sandwich at the Beach Hut overlooking the sea, where I was able to sit and look out over the expanse of beach and sky. There were stacks of evenly placed deck chairs ready for hire, a sandy volley-ball court, and a plentiful array of restaurants and cafes, stretching all the way to the pier and beyond. I didn’t recall it being quite this organised, or tidy.

It seems to me that Brighton doesn’t quite know what it wants to be, so it’s a bit of everything. It is certainly family friendly, and has also acquired a reputation as an arty, bohemian kind of place. The architecture is mostly Georgian, with an abundance of pale stone and wrought-iron balconies. There’s a hint of art deco about the casino and a timeless innocence about the pier, while the Royal Pavilion, with its domes and its silks, is an Orientalist fantasy come to life.

The Fishing Museum

I took a walk along the sea-front, breathing deeply of the sea air, and made a nostalgic detour to the pier, complete with funfair and fish and chips. I visited the small but perfectly-formed Fishing Museum. The fishermen of Brighthelmstone were not best pleased at the arrival of all these new visitors, but they made the best of it.

The museum houses a full-sized fishing boat, along with plaques and photos and anchors, and delights in telling visitors of the broad-beam hog boats, or hoggies, known locally as ‘knock-arse boats’. Sleek they are not, but they remained stable in rough seas. There’s also a section honouring the boats that went to the rescue at Dunkirk – I can remember my grandmother telling me you could barely see the sea that fateful summer in 1940 for all the boats.

The Royal Pavilion

When it came to mistresses and houses, the Prince Regent was a lover of excess. ‘The more, the merrier’ would appear to be his motto. His mistresses were plump and matronly, and his houses extravagant.

George moved to Brighton in 1786, escaping both his creditors and the stultifying dullness of the court of St James. He soon rented a farmhouse on the river Steine and, once his financial troubles were sorted out (he had to sell his horse-racing stud) he instructed the architect Henry Holland to convert the house into a dwelling more suitable for the Prince of Wales, as he then was. The result was a beautiful example of neo-classicism.

The Pavilion soon became an alternative court, where a colourful aristocratic circle surrounded the Prince. They were, according to contemporary biographer Robert Huish, “a set of titled cardsharpers.”

But it was not enough. By the 1820s, the house had been transformed into a grand Orientalist fantasy by the architect John Nash, who also designed Buckingham Palace and Marble Arch. The flamboyant mix of Indian and Chinese influences really shouldn’t work, yet somehow it does.

The interior is a riot of chinoiserie, at its most flamboyant in the magnificent Banqueting and Music Rooms, rooms dedicated to two of the Prince Regent’s passions. In the Banqueting Room, the walls are decorated with murals and the table is set for the dessert course. The lamp stands, blue jars of Spode porcelain, are original, as is one of the sideboards, veneered in satinwood and with carved and gilded dragons.

The room is dominated by the dazzling chandelier, a ton in weight, grasped in the claws of a silvery dragon suspended from the ceiling. I’d read that, hidden among all the chinoiserie, are a number of Masonic symbols, and I set about looking for them, the sun and the moon and the All-Seeing Eye. The Prince Regent was the Grand Master of the Prince of Wales Lodge, mostly made up of his friends.

The Music Room is likewise a sumptuous space, lit by nine lotus-shaped chandeliers. The Italian composer Rossini performed here in 1823, by which time the Prince Regent had become King George IV. The room has been fitted with a hand-knotted carpet, a reproduction of the original, made using evidence from surviving fragments and contemporary illustrations, and visitors wearing high-heeled shoes are requested to take them off before entering.

Other rooms are rather more restrained, in an elegantly sumptuous kind of way. I was reminded of a Jane Austen novel, and it occurred to me that I could really do with a chaise longue.

Upstairs are the guest suites and private rooms, complete with heavy silks and four-poster beds. There’s also an art display, including a set of irreverent cartoons satirising the Prince Regent – he was a cartoonist’s dream – and the delightfully cheeky painting HRH The Prince Regent Awakening the Spirit of Brighton, painted by Rex Whistler while he was billeted in Brighton in 1944. I think the Prince Regent would have approved.

Sailing Sunset Cruise from Brighton

If You Go:

♦ Brighton is easily accessible from London by fast train, departing from either London Bridge or Victoria Station. Rail passes and tickets can be booked at Britrail online.
♦ Apart from trains, some travellers prefer private transfers from London for a smoother ride, especially on day trips. Services like London Wheels Limo offer direct, door-to-door travel.
♦ Information on accommodation, restaurants and Brighton’s plentiful events calendar can be found on the comprehensive Visit Brighton website.

Brighton Pier Tour with Lunch at English Pub

About the author:
Paris Franz is a London-based freelance journalist. She has had work published in a variety of web and print publications, including The Independent, Wanderlust and Europe Up Close. See more of her work at www.parisfranz.com

All photos are by Paris Franz:
Ferris wheel
Fishing Museum
The Royal Pavilion
The Lanes shopping area

England: Remembering Jersey In War Time

by Ana Astri-O’Reilly

The seagulls circle above the cliff, their cawing muffled by the wind. That same wind that irritates my eyes and makes us to walk slightly bent forward at some stretches of the coastal path at Les Landes headland. Down below, the Pinnacle Rock and the remains of prehistoric settlements are clearly visible. To the untrained eye like mine, it looks like a bunch of rocks thrown haphazardly. I’m glad I brought my guide book so I could tell what is what. It’s not the first time I’ve encountered traces of the Neolithic man in Jersey but it still fascinates me to think that all those millennia ago people were living here, going about their business like us do today.

On top of the cliff, the concrete observation tower built during the German occupation of the Channel Islands stands at attention and fixes its martial gaze into the distance. Below, at the bottom of the cliff, covered by the high tide, is the graveyard of the guns. These are heavy artillery weapons captured by the Germans during World War II and thrown over the cliff by British forces after the liberation of the islands. This is within living memory. There are still people who remember those terrible times.

The German occupation has left indelible scars on the landscape, like hideous observation towers or gun emplacements, and in the history of the islands. I’ve seen many plaques and memorials marking events from that time scattered around Jersey. Especially poignant were those that marked spots from where groups of youngsters tried to flee the island and go across to Britain in row boats and were either captured and imprisoned or drowned.

Germany’s capture of the Channel Islands (Jersey, Guernsey, Alderney, Herm and Sark) in 1940 not only had strategic importance for Hitler’s plans; it was an emotional triumph for him in that he had finally invaded a portion of his enemy Britain. The islands became thus part of the Atlantic Wall, the line of coastal defence stretching from Norway to the Pyrenees.

Manpower was needed in order to build trenches, anti-tank walls, bunkers, gun emplacements, observation towers and tunnels. The Organisation Todt was in charge of providing workers. Its primary source were prisoners of war in mainland Europe, political prisoners and even men rounded up on the Continent. These poor men were treated worse than slaves. The Russians bore the brunt of Nazi cruelty as they were considered sub-humans. Many tried to escape the labour camps in search of food and some locals, running enormous risks, gave them food and shelter.

One of the structures that these slave workers built is he Jersey War Tunnels, which are part of a planned network of defensive tunnels also known as Höhlgangsanlage 8 (Ho8), the Underground Hospital. The Germans never used it or even have time to finish the tunnels before the end of the war. The liberation of the Channel Islands took place two days after the unconditional surrender of the German High Command on 7 May, 1945. The underground hospital is now a museum showing what life during the Occupation was like. Harsh, for sure.

Visitors can see the original operating theatre, the boiler room and telephone exchange. There also other exhibits, like the clandestine crystal radios people used to listen to news from the outside world at the risk of imprisonment or even death. There’s even an Enigma machine on display, which reminded me of World War II movies and made me smile.

When we visited the Jersey War Tunnels, I learned that among those slave workers were Spanish Republicans. My guess is that they were transported from the concentration camps on the coast of occupied France where they had been sent after the end of the Spanish Civil War. The Republicans, a mix of anarchists, Marxists, moderate socialists and communists supported by the Soviet Union and International Brigades had lost the bloody civil war against the Nationalist forces of General Franco in 1939 and had been harshly punished thus.

It occurred to me that my own grandfather could have been among those labourers in Jersey had he not been rescued by the Argentinean government just in the nick of time. He was in the concentration camp at Argelès-Sur-Mer, close to the Spanish border. He is an Argentinean national but he was living in Spain when the war broke out and since his parents were Spanish, he was considered a Spaniard and recruited by the Republican side without further ado.

At one point during our visit, I was overcome by angst and despair and my chest felt tight, I needed to get out and breathe. It could have been the fact that I was underground in what felt like a tomb, and probably was for some, and made me feel claustrophobic. Or it could have been that I was feeling the angst and despair labours felt then and still linger in the tunnels.

If You Go:

♦ There are daily flights from London (Gatwick and London City), Manchester, Southampton, Amsterdam, Zurich, Exeter, Bristol.
♦ Ferry crossings from Portsmouth, Weymouth, Cherbourg (France), St.-Malo (France) (Please note that some routes are seasonal.)
♦ Jersey War Tunnels: Address: Les Charrières Malorey, St Lawrence, Jersey, JE3 1FU (March to November)

About the author:
Ana Astri-O’Reilly is originally from Argentina and now lives in Texas. She worked as a translator and foreign language instructor in her native Buenos Aires. Now she is a contributing editor at PocketCultures.com and writes about travel on the blog Ana Travels anatravels.com She speaks fluent Spanish, English and some Portuguese.

All photos by Ana Astri-O’Reilly:
Observation tower at Les Landes
Battery Moltke, St. Ouen Parish
Bunker in St, Ouen Parish
The boat in which a young Jerseyman managed to row to Britain on display at the Jersey War Tunnels
A view of the naval coastal artillery battery Lothringen command bunker (Leitstand) Noirmont

Aberystwyth, Wales, Where The Hinterland Begins And Ends

by Marc Latham

A woman in a ruby dress sits upright amongst golden marsh reeds. Her red hair hangs past staring eyes to her arms. Her dead body is found by two boys walking a white horse. The wide expanse of marshland is framed by grey mountains and blue sky.

That is how the fourth and last episode, The Girl in the Water, of the first Hinterland series started. The crime drama followed in the footsteps of Nordic noir, and was filmed around Aberystwyth on the west coast of central Wales.

Aberystwyth is a Welsh language word meaning mouth of the Ystwyth. The town is unofficially considered the capital of Ceredigion county, and often called Aber by locals, as it’s the biggest Aber in the region. Its population of 15,000, supplemented by thousands of students in term time, is the largest for seventy miles north, east and south; Ireland is much farther west, beyond the Cardigan Bay horizon and over the Irish Sea.

Hinterland was the first network television series (a combined Fiction Factory production for Welsh language channel S4C and the BBC) filmed in Ceredigion; probably because its lack of motorways makes it difficult to reach for film crews. Its stark location was part of the appeal though, according to series producer Ed Talfan on the BBC Hinterland blog page:

‘We ended up going with Aberystwyth because there is a stark beauty to it. It feels like the last place – it’s the end of the railway line and there’s an inherent drama to it because of that.’

The Cambrian railway line links Aberystwyth with England via Shrewsbury or Birmingham. The journey west becomes spectacular for natural scenery lovers after Newtown, when the wild unpopulated Cambrian Mountains tower over the line to the south. As their highest peaks are passed, the Dovey (Dyfi) estuary takes over to the north. On the other side of the water, whether the mountain horizon is commingling with cloud or sky, it captures my imagination until the seaside town of Aberdovey comes into view on the other side of the Dovey mouth.

I wrote an article about the Cambrian line railway journey still available on what was Suite 101 years ago, and this year wrote a poem about a possible railway journey from Scarborough on Britain’s east coast to Aberystwyth on the west.

In-between, I walked around Aberystwyth Castle for the first time. I usually visited the north beach to look out at Cardigan Bay if there was time between arriving in Aber at the end of the train line and my bus departure taking me deeper into the hinterland.

A legend first written down in 1250 tells of a sunken city in Cardigan Bay; a Welsh Atlantis; called Cantre’r Gwaelod (The Lowland Hundred).

The story was resonant on a December evening in 2013, as a stormy sea enticed me beyond the pier, and I walked around the promontory housing the castle for the first time as far as I remember.

Arriving in daytime the following year, the sea was even wilder, with Cyclone Dirk already having caused extensive damage to the Aberystwyth seafront. It would cause much more destruction a fortnight later.

Circling the headland again, I saw the waves looked even higher as they crashed onto the south beach and defensive walls between the sea and harbour. So I walked down as far as I could, and was rewarded with excellent views and photos of the sun setting over the highest southern peak; between swirling grey clouds and above seawater flying high into the air after battering the promenade.

On the way back I entered the castle grounds for the first time, and thought it was more impressive than it is renowned; having grown up in Ceredigion I wasn’t really aware of Aber’s castle. Although there are only three towers and walls still standing, there is enough left to imagine the castle’s size and scale.

The castle dates from the late 13th century. It was built by Edward I after he invaded Wales to subjugate it. The town grew up around the castle in the 14th century, but the castle was already deteriorating.

A Welsh uprising against the rule of Henry IV under Owain Glyndwr captured the castle in 1404. He crowned himself Prince of Wales, and held a parliament at Machynlleth. Mach is a few stops on the trainline east of Aber, where the train can divide into two: one continuing east-west, and the other riding the south-north coast line to Pwllheli. The rebellion lost the castle in 1408, and order was restored under Henry V by 1415.

There were fortresses in Aber before Aberystwyth Castle. A fort was built just south of the current town in the 12th century after the Normans swept west from England on the way to Ireland after defeating Harold at the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

Also on the southern outskirts, overlooking modern Penparcau, a Bronze Age hillfort has been found and partially excavated on Dinas Maelor. In Penparcau, evidence of Mesolithic Age flint knapping suggests the area was populated in the Stone Age.

Aber town centre is quite small and easy to navigate. Walking out from the station the north beach is straight ahead past a pub sarcastically named after Lord Beechings. Lord Beeching’s report closed down the fifty-miles long Aberystwyth to Carmarthen train line linking mid and south Wales in 1965.

Since Aber’s harbour was built, the River Ystwyth doesn’t actually run through the town, but the River Rheidol does. Aberystwyth is at the confluence of the two rivers. There is a scenic Vale of Rheidol train line from Aber to Devil’s Bridge on a narrow gauge steam locomotive climbing 700 feet (200 metres).

That railway line was opened in 1902, a year after the third bridge at Devil’s Bridge. That iron bridge was built on top of a steel bridge built in 1753; the latter was built on top of the original bridge, which was built between 1075 and 1200.

Under the bridges, the Mynach falls 300 feet in five steps to the Rheidol. The Devil’s Bridge name was inspired by a local legend that thought the original bridge was too difficult to build, so the Devil must have built it in exchange for the first soul that crossed. An old woman tricked the Devil by sending her dog onto the bridge. It’s a nice story, but a shame for her dog!

Devil’s Bridge was the setting for the first episode of Hinterland, when a missing woman’s body was found on one of the steps under the Mynach water.

If I was Hinterland’s protagonist, DCI Tom Mathias, investigating the series evidence mentioned in this article, I’d think the water, women and horses clues point to important symbols in Celtic mythology; while red is the symbolic national colour of Wales. I’d conclude that Hinterland used ancient symbolism and cultural folklore in a modern Welsh crime drama, and that its brooding gloomy characters and storylines mirror the normally grey weather and proud chequered history. Most of the Hinterland action took place in the countryside inland from Aberystwyth; a natural world altered very little since tribes first travelled the Cambrian Mountains after the last Ice Age.

If You Go:

♦ Aber tourist office: www.visitmidwales.co.uk
♦ Webpage for the steam train: http://www.trainavapeur.com. It runs daily from April 1 to August 31 then until November for 5 to 6 days a week. An adult return fare was €11 and a child’s was €7.50. One way takes 40 minutes.
♦ Cambrian railway line info: www.aberystwyth.org.uk/attractions/cambrian-coast-railway-line.shtml
♦ Vale of Rheidol railway info: www.rheidolrailway.co.uk
♦ Aberystwyth castle: www.castlewales.com/aberystw.html
♦ Hinterland website: www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03pqypt
♦ My east-west railway poem: fmpoetry.wordpress.com
♦ My Cambrian railway article: suite.io/marc-latham/1a4b2yv

About the author:
Marc Latham travelled to all the populated continents during his twenties. He studied during his thirties, including a BA in History, and has been writing during his forties. He writes out of the www.greenygrey.co.uk website.

All photos by Marc Latham.

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