
Reading Bangor Promenade
Bangor Promenade Renewed
Bangor promenade was substantially remodelled as they also put in new flood defences and upgraded the storm water runoff tanks which are under the football pitch next to it, and I’m reading Bangor promenade after its renewal. As the new active travel route along it was also developed, I was in discussion with a local councilor. Here is the first email I sent:
Me, 24th May 2024:
I hope you’re well. I’m reaching out to share a safety concern about the otherwise wonderful new mixed-use pedestrian and cycle path on the Beach Road seafront and to ask for your help in addressing it. The new cycle path near the car park opposite the Nelson seems to resemble how it was set out before the work was done in that it doesn’t have enough separation from the parking area. I remember being quite worried about my children walking or cycling behind parked cars that could reverse out without warning or seeing children. If it is the same layout – which it appears that it will be, it could be risky for children, the elderly, those with disabilities and other vulnerable users who might use the route. This would be a shame, as it means the beachfront would be disconnected from the cycle path that goes up the hill towards the Lon Las Ogwen, at least for vulnerable users. Would it be possible to ensure that there are measures in place to protect these users from potential hazards posed by vehicles in the car park? What springs to my mind is having the path as a raised pavement between the car park and the wall or something similar. Would you agree with this, and if so could we reach out to the contractors responsible for building the path to find out what steps are being taken to keep cyclists and pedestrians safe from cars reversing in the car park? While I am highly impressed with the new seafront route, I also believe that this could be a major improvement to its safety, and while they are still working on it there’s an opportunity to strike while the iron is hot.
Cofion Cynnes, Owain
Reading Bangor Promenade now
Now that the concrete has set and the grass on the football pitches next to it has regrown, what is it like now? Spoiler alert – the cyle and pedestrian routes come disappear on arrival at Beach Road carpark. In fact, we could say that this active travel route is framed by carparks. This is an excellent opportunity to look at framing. This is an important concept in ecolinguistics as it is frequently used by those who wish to bring about change (Stibbe, 2015: 47). To take Stibbe’s definition for written or spoken texts:
A frame is a story about an area of life that is brought to mind by particular trigger words.
What are these triggers when you are reading Bangor promenade, a text that is neither written or spoken? As I take a short ride as an embodied reader of the promenade, let us see what the triggers are and how they frame the promenade.
Coming to a halt I press the button at the Beach Road Toucan Crossing (a pedestrian crossing with traffic lights that also allows bicycles to be ridden across). I watch people as they nip in to pay for petrol at the service station opposite as I wait. The green person and cyclist light up, I check the cars are stopping as they come down the long straight Beach Road, and that no one will pull out the forecourt and not notice the stop light as has happened often before, and I put my weight on the pedals, eager for the sea air. A sharp right on the other side, bumpy, uninviting tarmac sends vibrations up my wrists and I warily cross the forecourt exit.
The sound of traffic and petrol pumps fades as I navigate the access roads to the promenade and a housing development. The cries of seagulls evoke ice-cream and buckets and spades. There are also the haunting calls of oystercatchers and curlews. The promenade cycle route starts at the car park. There’s a sign that shows it is also the route of national cycle route 5. The cycle path is clearly marked, the tarmac is smooth and the route runs ahead in a wide arc.
So what are the trigger words here? Waiting at the toucan crossing or riding onto the cycle path by the car park is the opening sentence. I consciously read it after years of paying it no heed, the wait at the toucan crossing is a trigger that I read to mean ‘the cars are more important so they have priority and you must wait’. Next, the grotty tarmac, the absence of a grammar to guide my cycle across the petrol forecourt exit and the access roads suggest the narrative of the promenade as a place to relax free from cars has not yet begun. The car park is the topic sentence that introduces the paragraph of Bangor Promenade and locates it within the text of Bangor. Here you park you car, leave work or home in the glove compartment, and get out to enjoy yourself. The promenade is framed by the carpark and is constructed as somewhere separate and compartmentalised for leisure.
But as I ride onto the cycle path, a counter discourse emerges. The cycle path is marked like a road with fresh white lines, and I read this to mean that cycling is something serious. Furthermore, there is a sign which says ‘National Cycle Route 5’. This is a long-distance route across Wales that links up with the Holyhead ferry to Ireland. A trigger sign to frame this as a space through which someone might cycle a long way, albeit most likely for a holiday rather than to get home from work. I pass bicycle repair facilities and I’m grateful.
There are yachts in the harbour, and the cries of oystercatchers and the occasional haunting call of the curlew. Seagulls give a holiday feel, and people relax in groups, or walk their dogs. The thrump of a not-quite inflated football and shrieks comes from the football pitch to theright, and then the grinding of skateboard wheels at the skatepark.
I ride the long curve of this space slowly both because of the intermittent movements of the people there, and also to enjoy the sunny, airy atmosphere under an umbrella of seabirds while it lasts.
Cyclists Rejoin Main Carriageway
“Cyclists Rejoin Main Carriageway” commands the sign in advisory blue. Bollards mark the end of the promenade, and the fresh broken lines take away the privilige I’d enjoyed. A large carpark with no markings. Motorhomes sleep nose to the seawall on my left, and cyclists and pedestrians alike must creep behind their rear bumpers. I’m careful, there is little they can see in the rear-view mirror should it be the moment they awake and depart. To the right cars a parked. I take head of these too, they are quick to dart off and more come to fill their places. Like ants whose scent path has been scuffed, the people spread out in different directions. The carpark rejoins Beach Road, the seabird sounds give way to revving engines, and the salt-laden air takes on the hues of diesel and petrol fumes. I realise that my plea back in 2024 before the carpark reopend was unsuccesful. Reading Bangor Promenade, it is framed by carparks and leisure is compartmentalised into a few hours of free time on the promenade, or a long distance cycle tour to Ireland via Holyhead for the intrepid. If I need to cycle another mile to Screwfix or Tool Station to get some DIY bits and bobs, I might be better to rush down Beach Road running parallel to it. This will be more like the ride to the retail park on Caernarfon Road. If my children want to cycle or scate on the promenade, I should probably escort them across the carparks incase of reversing vehicles and supervise them while they play.

