Sometimes, it’s the quiet things that remind you why you love where you live.
For me, Monmouthshire is more than a place—it’s a feeling. A sense of belonging that crept up gently and settled in. It wasn’t where I was born, far from it, but somewhere along the winding paths of the Wye, I realised it had slowly become home.
Caption: A quiet bend in the Wye, just before the dog makes a splash (not Will, mercifully he hates water!).
I love the rhythm of the seasons here. The way winter strips the trees back to their silhouettes, only for spring to paint the valley in colour again. Walking (or wheeling) along the river, you feel time slowing down. The rustle of wind through bare branches, the squelch of damp red earth under tyres, the occasional splash as a dog races joyfully into the water—it’s a soundtrack I never tire of.
I have often found myself drawn upwards, to viewpoints like Yat Rock, where the hills roll out like a crumpled blanket and the sky feels impossibly close. Frank Turner sings, “‘round here the sky’s a little closer”—he meant the Hampshire valleys, but for me, it’s true here too. There’s something about being high above it all that puts things in perspective. You feel small, but not insignificant. Part of something grand and beautiful.
Caption: One of those beach days where the sea glitters.
And yet, it’s not all wild hills and misty mornings. One of the things I treasure most is how connected this area is. Bristol is just a short hop away—buzzing with colour, culture, and the kind of people who make you want to create something. I love the contrast: slipping between city and countryside like changing coats.
The Welsh coast is close enough for spontaneous beach days—those salty, sunlit moments where the sea glitters and my trusty off-road wheelchair lets me skim along the sand, chasing the dog (who’s always faster). There’s freedom in those days. A kind of lightness.
Caption: Will, the best adventure buddy, mid-ponder.
And speaking of dogs—mine has become my little adventure buddy. Whether he’s dozing on a windowsill in town, perched on a rock by the river, or proudly leading the way across a suspension bridge, Will reminds me to appreciate the now. To pause, breathe, and look around.
Caption: Found the perfect rest stop in the woods—sunshine optional, but preferred.
Because that’s the heart of it, isn’t it?
Loving where you live doesn’t have to mean loving everything about it. It means noticing the bits that make you smile. The crooked path that leads to a secret view. The café where they remember your order. The ruined wall bathed in moonlight. The patch of sunlight on the riverbank where you sit for just five more minutes.
Caption: That moment you look up and feel exactly where you’re meant to be.
Accessible adventures aren’t always about perfect surfaces, ramps, or the quality of the toilets (though I’ll never say no to a Changing Places!). Sometimes, they’re about those unexpected spots that fit you just right. The ones that make you feel grateful to be in your body, in that place, at that time.
Caption: Local life. Morning routines. Warm windowsills.
So here’s to loving where you live—whether it’s for the nature, the people, the memories, or the moments you haven’t discovered yet.
Because adventure is everywhere. And sometimes, the best place to find it is just around the corner.
Caption: The Wye Valley in summer—green, lush, and waiting.
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