The Centre that swims together… CEH Field Trip 2025

On the 18-19th of June 2025, members of the Centre gathered for our annual field trip, which took place in South Wales in glorious sunshine. Our first stop was the Big Pit National Coal Museum in Blaenevon, a former working coal mine that was transformed into an industrial heritage museum in the early 1980s. We began our visit with one of the Museum’s Underground tours, donning hard hats and removing all devices (including wristwatches – there is no time in the mine!) before descending 90 metres below ground in one of the original working lifts. 



Andre, our tour guide, led us through the network of mines, explaining the system of doors designed to create air flow and prevent miners from suffocating. He invited us to experience the total darkness that the children working in the mine would have been subjected to daily. And he showed us the stables where the horses lived for all but two weeks of the year, when they were taken up to the surface, blindfolded, to prevent eye damage, before the layers of their blindfold were slowly removed, hour by hour, until nightfall. 

From the cool darkness of the mine, we ascended to scorching heat, and to the heights of a coal spoil-tip, where we met up with entomologist and founder of the Colliery Spoils Biodiversity Initiative, Liam Olds. With his nets and vacuum (a cleverly-customised leaf blower), and assisted by eagle-eyed members of the group, Liam introduced us to various insects and plants. Many of these species are rare or endangered, and are flourishing as a result of the ‘mosaic of habitats’ created by the coal spoils, which are formed of the waste materials extracted from the mines. 


Liam showed us the bilberry bumblebee with its stylish yellow collar, delicate fairy flax, snail killing flies (!), and reindeer moss. We also learned about the vital work Liam is doing in ensuring that these rich sites of biodiversity are conserved and protected, and you can read more about this here. You can also read about Liam’s work in CEH member Michael Malay’s book Late Light, in the chapter on crickets. 

From Blaenevon we travelled on to Bannau Brycheiniog to the YHA Danywenalt in Talybont-on-Usk, where we continued the day’s conversations in the evening sun. 



The next morning, we headed into Talybont forest for the Blaen-y-Glyn waterfall walk, and as the temperature edged towards 30 degrees we found a perfectly sized swimming spot to cool off in. As with yesterday’s activities, we found ourselves cooling and heating, descending and ascending.


Field trips lie at the heart of our identity as a Centre – it is here we form our strong sense of community, have inspiring conversations that enrich our work as individual researchers, and plant the seeds of future research projects and collaborations. Gathering together at all career stages, from postgraduate taught students to senior professors, we learn a great deal from one another, and from the people and places we visit. 

Rachel Murray, CEH Events Officer and Lecturer in Literature and the Environment

Image credits: Marianna Dudley, Mingcan Rong, Rachel Murray

Rivers Old and New: Field Trips as Teaching Method in the MA Environmental Humanities

Every year on the MA Environmental Humanities we plan fields trips for our students, which are embedded into our core ‘Introduction’ and ‘Themes’ units. We see lots of benefits to incorporating field trips, which are not typically teaching activities in the Humanities (but are common in eg. Geography and Earth Sciences).

In the Centre for Environmental Humanities, we value field trips as a research method and plan at least one a year (see here). Bringing them into our taught programme is a good way of connecting our research and teaching. Field trips offer an opportunity for the group to get to know each other better, and as our field trips are local, it’s also a chance for those new to Bristol to explore and for residents to see familiar places with fresh, EH-focused, eyes.

This year’s first field trip has become a firm favourite. We join Mathilde Braddock of Steps in Stone on a ‘Rivers Old and New’ walk along the Frome on the eastern edge of Bristol. The walk takes us through woodland along amazing rock formations and Mathilde shows us how to see traces of recent and ancient history in the stone.

Fig. 1 Mathilde teaches us to see like a geologist. All photographs by Marianna Dudley.

Mathilde relates the deep time histories which have shaped the geology, and gives us a chance to think about the role of storytelling in communicating environmental stories.

Fig. 2. Finding coal seams in the rock.

Prompted by Mathilde, we also practice some creative responses to the places we find ourselves in. This year the creative writing practice felt particularly rewarding, and the words below have been shared by two current students on the course. The prompts, sunny autumn riverbank setting, and the quiet, collective moment shared with the group helped me to write a poem, something I’ve not really done before. I’m increasingly interested in exploring how creative practices help us to not just communicate, but also to think in new ways about our subject(s), and I look forward to exploring this with the MA Environmental Humanities students more. Thanks, students, and Mathilde, for a great walk.  

– Dr Marianna Dudley, MA Environmental Humanities Programme Director 

Fig. 3. Rae holds the dust of ancient deserts in her hand (now friable sandstone).

Rae Ferner-Rose  

Stones. 

I think often of an early death. In deep time the difference between twenty-two and one hundred is the blink of an eye. How can we ever say that humans are the only true agent within nature when one rainfall can leave a footprint more significant than any one person is able? But when I rot down into the earth, I feel my real work will begin. My life as a fossil will be my greatest achievement, against all my superficial moments of profound, the record making potential of my remains is beyond any word I could leave with this mouth or any word I could write with these hands. After breath and before the end of the world I will be content as a letter in a story so much larger than myself. 

In Judaism it is customary to leave a stone on a grave instead of flowers. Flowers die but stone can be carried into the afterlife. I like to think that in some time, the body I leave behind will have more to share with stone than flowers. Flowers are beautiful but transient, like life, but like death – lasting, meaningful, quiet – stone will carry me away into a time my body will understand in a way my embodied mind could never dream of. In health I feel like a flower in bloom, vibrant and alive but always with a view to wilting. In illness I felt like stone, static, peaceful ever closer and closer to the earth. Somewhere between twenty-two and a hundred I will drift back to that earth I arrived from. I do not dream of immortality but rather, living forever. 

Jo Ram  

It’s just so comforting walking around and looking, and also being taught how to look. That is what elders and teachers are for. To see a blank stoneface no longer blank. But there is a tension I feel between having to learn all the knowledge, to have expertise in order to connect and between feeling an emptiness when all that knowledge becomes facts rather than a way of knowing. Do we need to know all the facts to have a knowing? Do we need some facts? How many and how much facts do we need to start knowing? Or are facts at all relevant to knowing? But if it weren’t for facts, how do we know we are in the knowing? What is the practice of the knowing?   

Marianna Dudley  

Four seconds to midnight 

is when we appeared 

says the geologist, bending 

time with her words. 

Twenty-four hours of life on earth 

most of it behind us 

time spent in vastness. 

Mountains, faults 

delta plains awash with 

flora, air dense with 

oxygen, soil solid with 

carbon. Dragonflies with wings  

like birds, dragon-birds 

dart through the density 

we would never believe they lived 

if we could not see them 

in the stone.  

Mathilde Braddock 

I’ve always felt a particular magic in the cliff faces, towering trees and unassuming flow of the river in the Frome valley. For the second year in a row, I’ve seen this magic envelop the Environmental Humanities MA students and witnessed how sharing the deep time stories of the land opens us to greater wonder for the world. I am humbled by the words which the students and teachers share in response to the rocks, the river, the stories I tell, and the simple act of pausing and listening, together. 

Offering this walk as part of the MA is a pleasure because it feels like the perfect fit: an eager and open-minded audience, an opportunity for them to get out and about, and a chance for us all to feel connected with our shared environment.

 

Fig. 4. A parting message from the Frome.