FOLKLORE OF THE AVON GORGE.qxp_Layout 2 25/07/2014 19:12 Page 1
BRISTOL | FOLKLORE
AVONA’S TALE From a time of giants and goddesses, Jennifer Hayes tells the folklore of the creation of the Avon Gorge
T
he creation of the Avon Gorge is a story as dramatic as the landscape itself. Set in a time long ago, when creatures of myth lived alongside the townsfolk of Bristol, the legend tells of a tangled love triangle in which two giants fought for the hand of the goddess Avona. Today, the legacy of their rivalry is etched in the cliffs, the rocks as silent and unforgiving as the giants who forged them. But the story lives on in the surge of the river that bisects them, namesake of Avona herself who, if you listen closely, will tell you this tale. Goddess of tides and protectress of animals, Avona was divine guardian of the people of Bristol, and they relied on her for their survival. She had long worried that the only source of water for her wards and their animals lay far off in the Mendip Hills, so when local giants Ghyston and Goram began squabbling for her love, she hatched a plan by which she could harness their power for the good of her people. She declared that she would marry the first giant who could drain the large lake, which stretched from what is now Bradford-on-Avon to Rownham Hill, creating a path for the water through Bristol and out to the Severn Estuary beyond. Ghyston and Goram, fuelled by this promise, retired to their respective territories of Clifton and Henbury to begin their labours. But as the sun rose higher in the sky, Goram grew so hot and bothered with the tedious toil he slammed his fist into the ground in frustration. Such was his tremendous strength, the impact left a deep indent in the land that flooded with water from the ground beneath, creating a cool, limpid pool that proved too tempting for him to resist. He threw down his pickaxe and stripped off his clothes, eager to soothe his aching limbs in the welcoming water, pausing only to hollow a smaller divot nearby in which to hold his soap while he bathed.
Goram’s Chair and Bathing Pool, Blaise Castle
❝ ... SHE DECLARED SHE WOULD MARRY THE FIRST GIANT WHO COULD DRAIN THE LARGE LAKE
❞ As the afternoon drew into evening lazy Goram, relaxed and replete from his soak, decided it was too late in the day for any more work. Instead, he settled down in his favourite stone-winged chair, poured himself a tankard of mead and drank deeply. But one cup led to another, and before the sun had set he was slumped over and snoring in his sleep. Across town his rival, Ghyston, was proving of very different character. From the moment Avona laid down her challenge his focus did not waver from the task ahead. Hurling his axe into the ground he sent boulders flying as he cleaved his path through the land, the fire in his muscles serving only to ignite his resolve. Down crashed the water in his wake, rushing through the valley until he reached Avonmouth and met the River Severn.
Goram’s Bathing Pool, Blaise Castle Images © Will Dodd Photography
46 THE BRISTOL MAGAZINE
|
AUGUST 2014
His industrious nature won Avona’s hand, and her heart. A creature of movement and progress, she saw no virtue in stagnation and recognised in Ghyston her equal. She gave her name to the river he had created and in partnership they forged the landscape we see today, the water from her river irrigating the gorge he had hewn so life flourished on the rocks. The day she married Ghyston, she carried a bouquet of this rare and beautiful flora, while Ghyston carved the rings that united them from the gleaming quartz he’d mined from the cliffs as he worked. Poor Goram, heartbroken over the loss of his beloved to his bitter rival, dragged himself to Brent Knoll – the highest point in the west country – from where he hurled himself into the Severn and drowned. But the river wasn’t deep enough to fully submerge his gargantuan frame, so the tip of his head and shoulder remained above water, petrifying over time to form the islands of Steep Holm and Flat Holm that still rise from the middle of the estuary today. And evidence of these giants can be found elsewhere in our city. Take a trip to Blaise Castle and see for yourself the pool that distracted Goram from his labour, his soap dish beside it, and the huge chair in which he slumbered. The very brave can even venture down into Ghyston’s lair, a cave stretching deep into the rocks of the gorge itself. Although the giant would scale the cliff face to reach his home, it is nowadays accessible to mortals through the observatory on the Downs. Yet the most enduring memory is that of the goddess herself, preserved eternal in the gorge that forms the beautiful backbone of our city. Like a beating heart, her love for the people of Bristol still surges daily through the land itself, carried in on the current of her river, the Avon. n