A pub called Afron Gwy

The mouth of the Severn River neatly divides England from Wales. It’s also home to the world’s second largest tidal range where, at its highest point, the river rises 15 metres above the low tide mark. The eastern border of Wales is marked by the River Wye; one of the Severn’s largest tributaries. It’s here that you find the border town of Chepstow, often called “the first town in Wales”.


The name Chepstow comes from the Old English words Chepe and Stowe, which mean marketplace. Its Welsh name, Cas Gwent, means the Port of Gwent. During the 18th and early 19th Century a bustling river port and shipyard dominated the town’s economy. However, its industry was simply the latest in a long history of commerce and settlement. Iron Age settlers once lived in the area five thousand years ago, followed by the Romans, three millennia later. In 1067, the Normans built a grand castle on a cliff overlooking the Wye. Its ruins, the oldest surviving stone fortification in Britain, can still be explored today.


A short walk down-river from the castle is an elegant cast iron arch bridge. Built in 1816, it links England and Wales. The bridge’s access road is also home to a small, non-descript pub called Afon Gwy. A pub has survived on this site since 1735. My cousin Caroline recently traced the family’s history on my mother’s side to this quite corner of Wales. Her research found that two female members of the family ran the pub, known as the Full Moon Inn, from 1815 to 1826; and again between 1830 and 1876. It seems that a bankruptcy in 1826 prevented an unbroken period of ownership.


While staying in Bristol, Garry and I took a day trip to Afon Gwy to retrace the steps of my ancestors. I was keen to witness the passage of seven generations. Sadly, the owner of the pub was out when we arrived. I told the owner’s mother of my journey but she seemed disinterested. I was disappointed that such a personal pilgrimage meant so little and didn’t stay long.


Afterwards I walked across the Old Wye Bridge to reflect on my family’s time here. The tide was out, graphically demonstrating the Severn’s dramatic tidal range. The river scene was once the subject of a series of Turner paintings. He depicted Wye, the Afon Gwy and the nearby castle a number of iconic landscapes.


Garry and I then went on to explore Chepstow Castle. The ruins are well preserved. Its construction began less than a year after William the Conqueror was crowned King of England. For another three hundred years, new additions were progressively made until the castle reached its maximum size during the Tudor era. Its final occupants, an army garrison, abandoned the castle in 1690. The ruins then passed into state control in 1953.


Before leaving Chepstow we briefly stopped at the Priory Church of St Mary. My cousin’s research uncovered the story of pew inscribed to the memory of an ancestor in 1827. Unfortunately the church was closed for urgent repairs. It seems that my family history wasn’t a topic of interest to anyone in town. I left without ever truly connecting with my past, that is, until we visited the SS Great Britain.

In preparation for our trip to Bristol, I’d actually considered dropping it from our tourist itinerary. However, a slow morning saw us at a loose end. This grand old ship, was the world’s first ocean-going propeller-driven iron ship. It was built and launched in Bristol by Isambard Kingdom Brunel in 1843. Brunel is considered one of the nation’s foremost engineers.


Abandoned in the Falklands Islands in 1937, the SS Great Britain was salvaged in 1970, towed back to Bristol and restored to its former glory. Today you can visit the ship, sealed in a low-humidity dry dock. It's incredible experience, wandering along the rusty keel, past the ship's giant replica rudder and up to the solid cassion wall holding back the harbour's water.



In 1852, the SS Great Britain made the first of several immigration voyages to Australia. It carried 630 passengers to a new Antipodean future in Melbourne. Here we were more than 150 years later, wandering through its interior, experiencing the daily trials of first class passengers and those in steerage class. It was here, in the bowels of the ship, that I had my seminal family moment.


As I stood looking at the cramped, simple steerage bunks it suddenly dawned on me that this was exactly how my ancestors first ventured from Wales to the shores of a distance New Zealand. For the first time in my life I genuinely connected with my past. How ironic. I’d waited more than a year to visit Afon Gwy and was disappointed. I never expect to finally commune with my heritage on an iron ship I’d dismissed as just another tourist trap.