“When members of the international jet-set get together and the conversation turns naturally to fun spots of the Western world it is probably safe to assume that the word ‘Newport’ does not crop up frequently in the conversation”.
I once read this attributed to the redoubtable South Wales Argus, a newspaper today inexplicably not barred from representation at White House press conferences.
The river Usk flows through the town where I was born and grew up.
There is much to see at either side of its mouth, shared with the Ebbw, out to the wonderful Severn Estuary, which the Romans called “Sabrina”. The Usk is about as far West as the Romans ventured in Britain.
West Usk – The lighthouse, where Carol and I stayed last weekend.
East Usk – West Nash. St. Mary the Virgin, in whose churchyard lies the grave of my brother, Garrick. The church still bears the high water mark from the Bristol Channel Tsunami of January 1607.
View across Uskmouth from West Usk to Goldcliff, of which I have fond personal memories. Romans first set putchers there, in the intertidal zone, to catch salmon from the fast-flowing Severn.