Sunny Sunday in Ironbridge Text only

Sunny Sunday In Ironbridge

Standing on the pinnacle of the Bridge and gazing up stream, the raging torrent flowing below, the ancient woods to the left and the town to the right encompasses Ironbridge for me.

The story for day starts at the tea emporium, where a hearty breakfast can be purchased and a mind boggling selection of tea is on offer. Sipping my brew I plan out my route, the two options a) a walk over the bridge, into the woods and up the woodland staircase with lunch at the Tontine hotel or b) walk down past the shops taking a right at the museum of the gorge passing by the quaint houses and going for lunch at Cherries Cafe. I choose option a, today the river has grown to a monstrous size and carelessly flowed over the banks. The bright February sun soaks into my cold skin and I stride confidently across the famous Ironbridge, the first one ever constructed, away from the tourists. A path cuts off to the right, upstream, through the dense foliage parallel the river. This deceptively traversable path leads to the power plant towers, which I personally greatly admire both for their size and distinct reddish hue.Once at the towers, I double back taking a left up a steep path up to the bottom of the steps. Looking down at Ironbridge, the town framed by the surrounding forest, looks like a giant sprinkled a collection of toy houses up one side of the gorge.

On the come down, descending a multitude of steps I find myself gaining momentum like a child being chased. The steps decrease in intervals. For the grand finale I jump two feet first off the last step and fly a short low flight into the mud and onto my arse. Appropriate footwear is highly recommended in winter months. Unfortunately I do not heed my own advice.

Muddy, bruised and tired I return like a soldier from war across the bridge. Looking up salvation awaits.I walk into the pub and spend £10 on a pint and a carvery. Sitting down my drink and taking my golden ticket to Nick(the pub owner and runs the carvery) who serves in a easy manner in a mild regional accent.The carvery is in one word epic. My only advice is get to lunch early, before 13:00.

After eating there are two choices available again a) walk down to the museum of the gorge b) Peruse the variety of shops on the main high street. I chose option b this time. I particularly like the Garden shop, the ‘The gift Emporium’ and the bookshop at the back of the ‘charity’ shop. Shopping in Ironbridge is good but limited to gifts and souvenirs.

Other interesting activities on offer are Canoeing on the Severn River and the old book shop is worth a visit, although in my opinion is slightly overpriced. A great place to eat at or just have a cup of tea is ‘Eighty Six’d’, I have been there on numerous occasions and thoroughly enjoyed the food and drink, the cafe has a great sense of vibrancy and authenticity. Eighty Six’d is an independent cafe run by two young women, the cafe is on the second floor of the building opposite the estate agents on the roundabout above the main high street.

My day of eating, walking and shopping ends back on the top of the Bridge looking upstream.

How to get to Ironbridge

By Public Transport

Travelling from West of Ironbridge

Trains run hourly from Shrewsbury to Telford.

Traveling from East of Ironbridge

Trains run from Birmingham New Street station to Telford Station hourly.

From Telford

Go to the bus station, which is a 20 minute walk away, then catch the 96,77,88 or 88a to Ironbridge. The buses are infrequent and take a convoluted route. Otherwise taxis are on offer from the station, although this could set you back at least £15. The final option is to take a bike with you and cycle, this takes only half an hour and is a scenic route passing through Telford Town park, check the cycle route on google maps(Telford to Ironbridge to see).

By Car

It is easiest to drive towards Wolverhampton and then take M54 towards Telford, then take the A442 to Madeley. From Madeley follow the signs to Ironbridge, A4169 turn left onto the B4373 following the road to Ironbridge.

Travel Article: Jiu Jitsu

Bodies Hit the Floor: A Look at the Randori Nationals

By Tim Dubbelman

Jiu Jitsu is all about control. It's about getting out of fights. It's about grace, balance, flow. And then sometimes, Jiu Jitsu is about pushing people over and lying on their stomachs. It’s Valentine’s weekend I am at the Randori Nationals at Northampton's Benham Sports Centre, a proving ground for over 40 Jiu Jitsu clubs around the United Kingdom.

[The Randori competitions are a series of fights, split into three groups. The first group, gatamae-waza, concerns groundwork, two competitors fighting from kneeling on the ground. The aim is to push your opponent to the mat and pin them so they are unable to escape; if you pin them for twenty seconds you score an “ippon” which wins the match.

The second group is the nage-waza competition, a high-energy fight for green belts and above. The two competitors fight from standing and the aim is to throw each other to the ground; two properly-executed throws win the bout. Since your opponent is trying to do the same to you, however, it's more difficult than it sounds.

The third group is the open competition, which starts similar to nage-waza but involves groundwork once one fighter is thrown to the mat. If a throw is not properly executed but still floors an opponent the aim becomes to pin them.]

I am there with the rest of my club, Coventry University Jitsu Society: another novice, two yellow belts, two green belts and a light blue. When we get there it’s like some strange nature documentary, the rhythmic pounding of hundreds of feet on the mats akin to a stampede of buffalo. The sensei stands in the middle barking orders. “Change direction!” he yells; the response ripples out from the middle as everyone turns around to run anti-clockwise. “Faster!” he orders; everyone pounds their feet a little harder, finding a burst of speed from somewhere. We’re a little late, so we join in and hoped nobody notices our sudden appearance.

When the warm-up is done we’re split into our grades – standing at one end of the mat, the white belts, and at the other end the browns and blacks; in between, a rainbow of colours from yellow through to blue. Two senseis command the novices, telling us to gather round before sorting us into lines to practise breakfalls. Breakfalls and wrist locks – it’s like starting all over again, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s been a while since I last had to put on a wrist lock; the practise does me good, and the technique comes flooding back into my memory. After half an hour of basic Jitsu techniques we gather around another sensei, everyone this time, to learn some groundwork techniques. The first thing we learn is Mune-gatame, a simple pin which, done well, can be incredibly difficult to escape from. We partner up and practise the technique before moving onto Kesa-gatame. After practising these mat holds we break for lunch. The green belts and above stay on the mat, learning their techniques for the nage-waza competition.

When we get back it’s time for the first round of the competition. We are sorted into our groups and the matches begin.

For me, the competition is over quickly. I’m taken out in the first round, struggling underneath the weight of Kostas, a white belt from Essex University who’s far stronger than me. After twenty seconds the match is over, and I’m out of the competition. In contrast, Adam – the other white belt from Coventry – fares much better, powering through his first round before he, too, is taken out by Kostas. “At least he put up a fight,” I think.

Cut to the next day. Everyone is a little hungover, thanks to a night out after Saturday’s competition organised by the Jitsu Foundation. We’re late, as usual; it took a while to check out of the hotel, thanks to the crowd of jitsu clubs in the lobby. But we get there and we warm up again, and then we settle in for the finals.

A lot of the bronze fights go pretty quickly. Usually one person pins the other right from the start and they can’t get out, or in the case of the higher grades they get in an armbar and the opponent taps. As for the gold medal fights, they are harsh brawls in comparison to the relative speed of the bronze bouts. The fighters lock horns and grab at arms, legs, whatever they can reach in an effort to throw each other to the floor. By the time they finish, both winner and runner-up are exhausted.

But it is the novice finals which are the most impressive. These are the longest by far, the white belts showing more skill in their final fights than they have done at any point before. They tussle and twist, and roll around on the mat as they try to get the upper hand; more than one bout is halted as they roll out of the ring. Finally, it gets to Kostas, and we’re rooting for him. If he beat us, I reason, he might as well take the gold. And after a few minutes of struggling, he pins his opponent and ends the match. Exhausted and ecstatic, all the white belt finalists line up to collect their medals. Kostas is unable to hide his delight, grinning from ear to ear as the gold medal is slipped onto his neck. I congratulate him afterwards, and we leave as friends. As I join up with the rest of my club and we stuff ourselves back into our two small cars for the journey home, I’m already thinking of the next competition, and the next chance to win gold myself.