I hopped over the wall of the Suspension Bridge buttress, and scrambled round to Burwalls Cave. I'd heard about it through the Flickr group, and had arranged to go exploring with some of them, but I was the only one there at the appointed time.
I slithered down a steep bank, then hauled myself up a bit of a crag with the help of a piece of rope that dangled down. And then I was there.
Lee was just finishing his breakfast. He stays here when he's in town. He was very friendly and nice, but rather shy; when we heard the distant crashing that announced the imminent arrival of some fellow-photographers, he decided to leave me to it. It felt a bit voyeuristic taking photos, but I did anyway.
It's a lovely place. And it's probably about the oldest dwelling in the Bristol area. And no council tax either.
Beautiful shots Dru.
ReplyDeleteThe voyeuristic aspect of photography is the one part of it that I don't like...
Stace
So Lee is a trogolite! Lovely photos, I love the colours in the rock.
ReplyDeleteThe dwellings we saw in Chinon were all boarded up, but I've got some postcards of them when they were lived in with their occupants.
You're lucky you live somewhere that offers such locations, here on the flood plains it's far too wet. Lee's abode reminds me slightly of the home someone had made in an abandoned cable drum I once encountered in an out-of-the-way spot near here. Its resident wasn't to be seen so I was unable to find whether he'd satisfied the 7 year residency requirement as a squatter to own part of the trunk road network.
ReplyDeleteI mean Troglodyte in the French sense of the word
ReplyDeleteNice photos. Nice cave. We on chalk. No caves. White water.
ReplyDeleteHo hum. No verbs.
Somehow it is nice to think there are little places of magic like this with people still using them; our world can seem so generic.
ReplyDelete