A day of opposites.

I was out walking today – yes, I know I do a lot of it – and I enjoyed one of the finest sights of nature and sadly saw one of the stupidities of mankind.

Lets start at the beginning. I was walking later in the day than normal and had decided to set out along the river, climb up to the suspension bridge and descend through the woods on the other side before returning home. Now for those of you unfortunate enough not to know Bristol and its environs, the river Avon flows out of Bristol down the Avon Gorge (odd that, isn't it?). The suspension bridge crosses the gorge from Clifton, which is full of beautiful old houses, to Leigh Woods, which apart from the actual woods themselves is sparsely populated with a mix of large, old houses and modern monstrosities. Perhaps the real difference between the two sides of the river is that there is a major road running along the river bank on the Clifton side, whereas there is a muddy foot and cycle path on the Leigh Woods side.

Now there are two obvious options for getting from the bottom to the top of the Gorge on the Clifton side. There is the ZigZag, a footpath which meanders up the side, or Bridge Valley Road, which is slightly less severe since it is designed for traffic but that has a footpath on one side. From town, choosing the latter option makes the walk slightly longer and so I headed for the slightly less pleasant climb. But using my eyes for the first time as crossed the road, I noticed a small flight of steps which climbed steeply up the hill. This seemed far more desirable than a car-fume choked road, so I started, very slowly, to ascend. The steps were clearly little used as they were covered in twigs and even the odd branch that had blown down but someone had been up there recently as some of them had been snapped. After a short while the steps ran out and a steep path took over.

About half way up the Gorge the path petered out, due to a lack of upkeep, but there was a muddy track that carried on up. Going back down seemed like a lot of work but I was uncertain whether the track would continue to the top. The lazy side of me won out, so I continued upwards through the trees. I emerged at the bottom of a small clearing and looked up, panting. There, crossing the glade and oblivious to me, despite the racquet I had been making, was a fox. He was so at home there amongst the trees on that steep slope that he felt safe and secure. A master of all he surveyed, occupying the wild spaces amongst our urban chaos. It is wonderful that nature finds a way to occupy the niches that we have created. We seem to destroy so much but nature will always survive, adapting to the new conditions.

When I reached Isambard's wonderful bridge the lights had just come on and for the first time I could see how the old light bulbs had been replaced. It is a glorious sight, Clifton Suspension Bridge at night. It reminded me of my student days when I would walk there and look out over the city. Unfortunately, these days they consider it necessary to have a high protective barrier so you can no longer rest your elbows on the parapet and look at the view for hours on end. But the view is still good, if a little obscured.

The walk to Nightingale Valley from the bridge is not very far, about 10 minutes for me, but by the time I got there it was definitely twilight. I did think twice about whether it was sane to start down a dark, muddy slope with rocks, tree roots and slippery, rough hewn steps covered in rotting leaves. But the alternative route home was boring and there seemed to be a reasonable amount of light, so long as I looked straight down. It was one of the most exhilarating but scary descents on my life. I slipped once, but ended up with nothing much worse than dirty trousers. I kept expecting the light to deteriorate but I could just about see all the way down, even though it was cloudy with no moonlight. As I emerged onto the riverside cycle path I could see why. The low cloud was trapping the city lights and reflected back to illuminate the view, as bright as a full moon.

Now I know that light pollution isn't devastating. In its own right it isn't going to cause global warning, aggravate asthma in children or poison the food chain. It might be my job that makes me sensitive to it, after all I work in the space industry. But I think I'd feel the same if I were a postman or a celebrity. Walking at night should mean being able to see the stars, or being in the dark on a heavily overcast night like tonight. And, in fact, generating light uses power, so if we are wasting that much light we are wasting a huge amount of energy too. So can I ask you to think twice about the number of lights you burn at night and to close your curtains to keep it in. And I'd like to ask any of you that read this to petition your local council to use directional street and decorative lighting, which is not only good for the environment but should also reduce you council tax over the long run.