Clydach Gorge and the Blorenge – A Day of Water, Whinchats, and Wayward Wandering

Lower Clydach Gorge and Happy Paul

June in Monmouthshire is a month that seems to invite you outdoors with the promise of green valleys and the soft hiss of water tumbling over rock. It was on such a day that my good friend Paul and I decided to explore the Clydach Gorge – a place steeped in history and draped in nature

Our journey began near the Clydach Ironworks, where the old iron Smarts Bridge stood like a rusting sentinel over the river. Here, we set up the tripods for our first photographic stop. Long exposures smoothed the flowing water into silky ribbons, a contrast to the moss-cloaked stones and skeletal remains of industry that whispered of the gorge’s past. The gentle rumble of the water beneath the bridge seemed to set the tone for the day – unhurried, contemplative, and tinged with a little nostalgia.

Smarts Bridge

From there, we made our way to the lower Clydach Falls. Tucked into the folds of the gorge, the falls roared louder, forcing us to lean in to talk above the sound. Another round of long exposures followed, capturing the frothy cascade as it tumbled into its dark pool. Paul, ever patient, waited for me to fiddle endlessly with my camera settings while the spray dampened our clothes and the smell of wet stone filled the air.

The Lower Clydach  River Falls

Our final destination was the Blorenge mountain, a vast green expanse that rolls away into the horizon. The bracken here in June is chest-high and dense – a sea you wade through rather than walk across. We failed utterly to find any Whinchats and began to start sweating in the gloriously warm sunshine. It was time to head back.

But as often happens when I’m “in charge” of the route, our return journey took a turn for the… creative. My lack of self-direction became abundantly clear as we found ourselves hemmed in by an impenetrable thicket of bracken. In the end, it was less of a walk back to the car and more of a determined clamber. At one point, I had to lend Paul a hand as we both laughed at the absurdity of it – two grown men, cameras in hand, stumbling out of the undergrowth like a pair of dazed explorers emerging from the jungle.

The fittest senior citizen I know :)

By the time we reached the car, sweating, sunburnt and covered in the scent of crushed bracken, we both agreed it had been an unforgettable day. Clydach Gorge and the Blorenge had given us history, wild beauty, and a generous helping of comic misadventure – exactly the kind of day we cherish