I'm taking a photo a day. Each features a bridge, numbered according to the book:
From Brycgstow to Bristol in 45 Bridges
The map from the book is freely available as a two-page pdf:
I've also made a 12-minute documentary:
The design is based on using recycled dredging tubes, which had gone by the time it was built, so custom tubes were built to match. Also, there was a big bang near here in 1888. A boat with over 300 wooden(!) barrels of naptha blew up. Over 1000 windows in the General Hospital (where I live) were blown out.
It is a swing bridge that doesn't swing. The waterway under it was blocked off for safety in WWII and never unblocked.
This is a plain flat bridge, effectively widening the East bridge, but there's a gap, so it counts as a separate bridge. There is a 28 second timelapse video of the foundations being built.
This is a rather nice 1935 suspension bridge for foot and cycle traffic. It was supposed to be called Southville Bridge, but locals had other ideas. It replaced the ferry, and was close to an infamous gaol, of which only the gateway remains.
This is a steel lattice footbridge, with a newer extension over the road. The central tapered part is another swing bridge that doesn't swing any more. The bridge crosses the cut (artificial diversion of the Avon river) and the chocolate path (a towpath paved with little chocolate-bar-like tiles).
Originally, this was a double decker swing bridge, with railway underneath, road above, and control room on top. The bottom deck has been restored from dereliction, including a bus guideway. The guideway, just two kerbs to guide sidewheels on an ordinary bus, controversially "required adjustment".
This is part of the major Cumberland Basin road system. I would like to have snapped it from the other side, to show the elegant raised roadways and footpaths, but it so well designed, I couldn't find anywhere to stand to get the whole view, and you can't see the bridge for the trees.
It is also known as the replica bridge. The original was designed by Brunel, adapted and moved to the North Entrance Lock. The replica was made, and eventually the original became redundant and lies unused, with a sign on it saying "Brunel's other bridge".
This bridge is a modest but multi-functional concrete pathway. It provides access to the island on which tomorrow's major swing sits, and it protects clear water over which yesterday's bridge swings, so it is a bridge between bridges. And it also provides a buffer for ships going through the locks. A careful close-up was necessary to keep the other bridges out of the picture.
The Plimsoll Bridge is technically very impressive. It weighs 865 tonnes, yet swings silently in only 40 seconds. People think it spins on a bed of mercury, but it is just well oiled ball bearings. It has been in heavy use since 1965, and has only got stuck a handful of times.
This is the most famous Bristol bridge, of course, for very good reasons. It's history is long and tortuous. Here are my favourite bits. Brunel effectively forced through one of his designs, despite losing two competitions, supposedly because of the engineering difficulties. The project was mismanaged, and didn't get finished until after Brunel died. The design was tampered with to get the costs down. The builders put 500 tonnes of stone on it when it was finished to prove its strength. The bridge has only needed relatively light maintenance work since 1864.
I took a whole series of pictures, if you are interested. The suspension bridge walk was a long stretch. Bridge 37, the Avonmouth bridge, (happily) and bridge 38, the Portway Viaduct (sadly) are too far away and will have to be left out, for now anyway.
This is a double leaf swing bridge, in the rain. It is a technically a loop. Non-technically, it's a shortcut - you can get from one end to the other round the dock. The dock is Little Dock, between the now-built-over Champions Dock and Great Dock. The original surface grew a thin slippery moss, so it had to be replaced.
This is a steel swing bridge from 1925, over the major flood-defence lock gates at the junction between the Cumberland Basin and the Floating Harbour. On the left is Rownham Mead where I used to live, and you can see the tower of the Pumphouse which used to provide hydraulic power to the harbour before a bigger system was built in the Underfall Yard. In the foreground is a windlass looking like a canon.
I didn't want to go far today, so I will fill in bridge 41 later. This bridge has a clever hydraulic mechanism which lifts the bridge before swinging it. After two years of repairs when we had to walk over the top on scaffolding, it now has decking made of glass-reinforced-plastic. There is a fierce ferry in the foreground.
This is an easy bridge to miss, as it is like a short extension of the North Junction Lock Bridge. Note the row of pretty little dock workers' cottages behind. The bridge goes over what used to be the older, narrower junction lock. When the SS Great Britain was floated in 1843, it couldn't get through. The ship rode lower in the water than calculated, because of the weight of machinery installed in it. So the dock was redesigned, after which the ship still got stuck in it, and a team of workers took all night to get the ship through. There was trouble with the suspension bridge as well at the time, so Bristol was briefly known as the city with a bridge they couldn't finish and a ship they couldn't sail.
Pero's bridge is another loop. You can get from one end to the other round St Augustine's Reach. The bridge is named after an African slave. It is a bascule bridge (drawbridge). The horn sculptures act as counterweights when the middle section is raised.
This is taken from the top of the red cliff. It was built in 1939, and it looks a bit brutalist, but the 'towers' is a pair of control cabins, each only semi-circular. It is another bascule bridge, with the small part that rises weighing 450 tonnes.
Designed in 2017, this bridge has attractive curves in all three dimensions. The middle section, foreshortened in this view, makes it feel as if you are walking along the river rather than across it. The curves lengthen the bridge and reduce the slope, so that you are barely aware of the seven metre height difference between the two ends. All the weight of the bridge has to be on the piles, not the fragile bank. The piles go down through seven metres of silt, then six metres into mudstone bedrock. They were screwed in rather than hammered, to avoid disturbing local peregrine falcons.
Bristol bridge is on the original site where Brycgstow, the place of the bridge, was founded, around the year 900. There have been many changes of spelling since then to reach Bristol. The first bridge was wooden, the second had houses and shops over it, and the current one had stone toll boths and balustrades, now gone. The widening 'improvements' cover up much of the remaining stonework and, in this photo, put it in the shade. In the foreground is part of the Merchant Navy memorial.
This is a mundane replacement for the celebrated Ha'Penny bridge (named for its original toll price) which was the only bridge in Bristol to be hit by a bomb in WWII.
This is another loop, because the ditch doesn't go anywhere much. The ditch could be a remnant of the old castle moat, so there is an attempt to make this little bridge look a bit like a drawbridge.
This was built to carry Temple Way, opening up the eastern side of the city. Temple Way was originally going to be called Temple Highway, but they thought is was too suggestive of Dick Turpin. The original half of the bridge (1939) is riveted, but the new half built in the 1970s to double the width is welded. The whole thing counts as one bridge because there's no gap.
Valentine's is another curvy modern bridge, this time suspended. It makes a clickety-clack metal noise when commuters wheel their cases across it on the way to Temple Meads station. Most views of the bridge are confusing, because the mast that holds the suspension cables is not vertical. So in this shot, I've hidden the mast behind a tree.
This award-winning footbridge is called the Cheesegrater by some locals, because of the 55000 holes. They vary in size, matching the stresses in the steel. It is said to look good at night, lit from the inside. The builders put in the wrong surface, and it had to be replaced when cyclists had too many accidents. One bright spark tried to drive a truck over it, leading to a year-long repair. This and yesterday's bridge were privately funded as part of the development of the surrounding area.
This is described in the book in one sentence. "Bath bridge was doubled with a dull western bridge in 1959 to relieve traffic congestion." The bridge may be dull but photographing it isn't. It is at a junction which is "hostile to pedestrians", though more negotiable now than usual.
This is the real Bath bridge, which has just been repainted. The original bridge here, Hill's bridge, was completed in 1806 and promptly collapsed completely. It's replacement was hit by a runaway steam barge (called John) in 1855 and again collapsed completely. It's replacement, despite still being made of cast iron, survived until widening was needed in 1910, when the current steel version was built to the same design.
Here's a bridge that goes nowhere. It was built in anticipation of the Arena, which has moved, but the area, renamed from Arena Island to Temple Island, will soon enough be developed for something else. The bridge is currently closed off, so according to the book it doesn't count - you have to be able to freely walk over it. It was built from a kit of parts on the bank, and cleverly cantilevered over the river. If it doesn't look flat, that is because it isn't!
Here's another bridge that goes nowhere, and is currently closed off, for the same reasons. It is Y-shaped, with both steps and a ramp at the lower end. The clean lines hide a complex and clever design which copes with the severe lack of space on the downward side. This one was prefabricated in light materials and dropped into place with a crane. Unfortunately, its current disuse makes it a target for graffiti, so I've cleaned it off. (There is a before picture, if you must see it.)
The Relief Line or Avoiding Line bridge is a smart Bristol blue 1892 hand-riveted steel rail bridge with three spans. Only the middle span counts, crossing the river and having an integral footbridge. The big cylindrical pillars (see other photo) were pressurised with an airlock for working inside during construction. A wooden bridge was built and used during development, then the steel bridge was built using the wooden one for support, then the wooden one was removed. I wonder what the footbridge is like when a train goes through.
After a day indoors, I'm out and about again. Going eastward, I am coming across more places I haven't been before, and Sparke Evans park (7 acres) is one. Sparke Evans was a tanner and philanthropist who gave the land to the city in 1902. The bridge was built as part of job creation in 1933 with the same designers as the Gaol Ferry bridge (and a bridge in Patagonia, apparently). This suspension footbridge is surrounded by so much greenery that it is hard to find a vantage point for a photo.
This is one of a twin pair carrying a major bypass. The road, originally called the Spine, is elevated, to cross two waterways, several power lines, two roads, and five railway lines.
Here's the twin - can you tell the difference? The concrete pillars holding up these bridges were not driven in as usual. Vibro-displacement was used. A nozzle was forced into the ground by vibration, which also settled the soil. Then liquid concrete was injected, to form a bulb for the pillars to sit on.
This bridge is very rural-looking. The stonework is from about 1900, and the span from around the 1960s. It is over the Feeder, the canal which takes river water into the floating harbour. It is an industrial area which has been regenerated by volunteers, with trees and fishing. The bridge is near another unvisited park. I feel a picnic coming on.
The locks are at the junction of the Feeder and the Avon. The area used to be a giant chemical works. Kids used to play in "the brillos", multi-coloured mounds of industrial waste (reminding me of somewhere I played a couple of times near Watford in my youth). The Feeder used to be full of barges carrying industrial goods. The clean-up since the 1950s is remarkable. The circular tour ordering of the bridges in the book means that I'm not due to visit the West partner bridge until Monday.
This is quite a nice metal design, built in concrete instead to save money. (Apparently the Romans invented concrete.) The bridge was both a job-making scheme and a way to help people (including employers of the builders) commute to work.
Today was picnic day, visiting this easternmost bridge and stopping off to eat in Netham Park on the way back. The bridge is a replacement for an 850-year-old ferry taking pilgrims to St Anne's Chapel (now gone). It was apparently a very important destination in the middle ages. You can still do a mini-pilgrimage to St Anne's Well. The walk along the river to the bridge and back along the other side is exceptional.
This is the partner to bridge 16. There's a pretty lock-keeper's cottage nearby. Fortunately, the Netham Monster has gone. That was a 91 metre industrial chimney stack.
Now I am going back along the Feeder, filling in bypassed bridges. The need for this bridge was established in the long depression of 1873-1896, but the GWR wouldn't sell the land until 1901.
This is the fourth bridge on this important spot, and was the site of a historical incident. In 1872 it ceased to be a crime to belong to a trade union, so inevitably there was a Great Strike Wave in 1889-90. There was a gas strike in Bristol, and the gas company drafted in 300 replacement workers from out of town without telling them they were going to be blacklegs. The incident came to a head on Marsh bridge where there was a huge barricade and crowd to greet the blacklegs. Fortunately, nobody had much experience with violence and, apart from a few stones being thrown, the situation was defused without bloodshed.
This bridge sounds as if it won't last, but it looks sturdy enough. It connects Totterdown to St Philip's Marsh. The debates, legal issues and red tape took 10 years to sort out before the bridge was built - second only to the Clifton suspension bridge. Some people (not me) think the metalwork with pipes behind is ugly, so they have added creepers on netting. I like the overall effect.
It is, of course, always known as the banana bridge. It was once other colours, but has been yellow now for many years. The design is very unusual, with the decking bowed upwards and covered in flagstones. There's a technical description here. It was originally elsewhere - used temporarily while the second Bedminster bridge was being built. To move it, four barges were lashed together to make a 300 ton raft, a wooden superstructure was added, the whole thing was slipped under the bridge at low tide, the rising tide lifted it off its supports, it was swiftly towed to its current location, and the falling tide lowered it onto its new supports. That last drop had to be controlled to millimetre precision.
This is a twin of tomorrow's bridge. But not an identical twin. It is one of those modern dull extension twins. I had to use both of my photography skills - photograph the sunny side, and include some greenery.
This is the real deal, from 1883. The cast iron railings have a rope theme, and the flowers below are attractive too. Photographic it meant crossing onto the middle of the roundabout, but early on a lockdown Sunday morning, that's quite easy. And that's all the bridges for now. I may think about the two further away, but I'm not in any hurry.
