Easter in South Wales

The Easter holiday, being an altogether mobile entity, can find itself cropping up in all sorts of seasons, and sometimes even provides a bit of all of them, excepting autumn perhaps. This year, falling in mid-late March, was no exception and provided the usual spice of sunshine, hail, snow and high winds. The University provides around a week of closure time, giving a nice little break mid-way between Christmas and summer. Our intentions had been to head to Pembrokeshire, via a couple of days in South Wales. The camping gear, along with wetsuits and climbing equipment was all loaded into rucksacks and suitcases in anticipation of an early seaside expedition. Over the first couple of days of our Cardiff visit we made it out for a sunny but windy day in the Brecon Beacons and met up with my Pentyrch crowd of friends at the wonderful Kings Arms village pub. The Axe Family base is currently a building site and we had the opportunity to view the progress on the new build, clambering around the interior of the timber-frame on ladders. It had progressed a long way since climbing the scaffolding on the exterior at Christmas.

Llyn y Fan Fawr, nestled below the sandstone scarp slope of the Carmarthen Fan in the western Brecon Beacons National Park.

On Saturday we had been due to move out west, to St Davids for the camping trip. However the weather forecast on Friday evening was promising a series of weather warnings for the coming few days with a return to heavy wintery showers and storm force winds, particularly around coasts. After some careful deliberation we decided to settle for the warm and dry option of staying put for day trips out of Pentyrch. The Cardiff half marathon was taking place on the Saturday, and Lindsey and Liz were helping out in the competitor base near to City Hall and the University. What a wild day for the runners. Imogen, Steve and I had elected to spectate in Cardiff Bay, and given the weather we certainly weren't fighting the crowds for a good view of the race. We pushed out towards the barrage from the imposing Pier Head building, intercepting the women’s elite race at the new(ish) Dr Who exhibition and attraction. After a section where the half-marathon route traversed the Port of Cardiff land, separate to the walking and cycleway that links the Mermaid Quay waterfront to the main barrage, it opened out onto the most exposed section facing right onto the Bristol Channel. We found plenty of space to obtain a perfect view of Mo Farrah and others in the mens elite race as they sped past us. Soon after, the main pack of the race followed, and rather unfortunately for the runners, they were greeted by the most violent of squalls battering across with almost horizontal rain carried on a ferociously cold wind!

Looking along Traeth Bach and Traeth Mawr towards Monknash on the Glamorgan Heritage Coast.

Sunday brought drier weather, with more sunshine and we explored the Glamorgan Heritage coast at Dunraven Bay, also known as Southerndown. Heading east from the ruins of Dunraven Castle and the more intact walled gardens the limestone cliffs leading to Monknash and Nash Point are particularly spectacular. The flat farmland comes to an abrupt precipice, dropping up to 30 m or so to the sands below. The Carboniferous limestone displays fine layering, and in places there is fresh evidence of slips and rockfall. All the more reason to keep a good distance back from the edge, especially in the swift NW wind. There are several locations where it is possible to access the beach. We dropped onto the wave-cut platform that extends out from the Monknash valley and headed back West towards Dunraven Head across the large area of sand exposed on a falling tide. The dogs had a great time bounding around on the massive expanse of beach, even Diva enjoying some off-lead time! Both Diva and Jess are not keen swimmers, Toffee on the other hand can’t be kept out of the water on beach visits.

For our Easter Monday outing we headed coast-bound again. This time, further west to the Gower Peninsula. The Gower has some great beaches and coastline. Most well-known is probably Rhossili at the far West, with a large expanse of sand stretching several kilometres from Rhossili Head to Llangennith Burrows and Burry Holms island. On the inland side, the land rises rapidly with the heather-clad Rhossili down providing a wonderful backdrop. Beyond Rhossili Head is a tidal causeway leading to the undulating Worm’s Head. We parked up at the Llangenith end and started our walk by ascending up and along the downs. The stiff NW wind was prevalent once again, and in the clear air that such airflows often bring, the Carmarthen Fan in the Western Beacons could be seen with fresh snow on top. After Liz had taken Imogen for a quick browse of the National Trust shop at Rhossili, we dropped onto the beach to walk back towards the Llangenith end. The long beach walk and some good timing on the part of the succession of showers was helping to conjure up sufficient enthusiasm for the first swim in the sea of the year. Added to this was the opportunity to try out Lindsey and Steve’s boot tent; a tarp-like structure that attaches to the boot of their Vauxhall Vectra estate, providing the ideal changing tent for cold British days at the beach. It wasn’t long before Liz and I were clad in the wetsuits and making our way back down through the dunes for the fresh plunge. Llangenith is a popular place for surfing as there is normally some form of swell coming in on this due-West facing beachbreak. The water temperature was apparently a little over 8ºC, but we managed a reasonable session of body surfing and wave ducking before retreating once again to the relative warmth of the changing tent.

Rhossili Down and Bay, lovely sunshine but the clothing and white breakers on the sands below say something about the wind!

Heading into the cold March water at Llangenith

Next up was a trip to the imposing ruin of Carreg Cennen Castle in Carmarthenshire. This involves a fair-run out west to the end of the M4 from Cardiff, before turning north to Ammanford and the increasingly hilly and wooded country of the western Brecon Beacons National Park. The castle is worth a couple of hours of exploration, most notably for it’s subterranean dungeon, an interesting blend of man made passageway and natural cave. Visitors are free to clamber down and explore but a torch is essential for the deep section as there are no lights down there! The castle sits proud atop a limestone crag with good views of the surrounding approaches. After looking around the castle, we took the signposted woodland walk that descends to the valley and follows the Afon Cennen river that runs along beneath the steep limestone cliffs. As we crossed a field of sheep and new born lambs, a heavy shower starting as rain but rapidly turning to sleet piled in. In order to make a grand circuit for the days’ tour, we took the country route back across winding lanes via Talybont Reservoir and Sennybridge to the A470 near Brecon. We had some good views in sunshine between the heavy showers of fresh snow on the hills.

Carreg Cennen Castle

For our final day of the holiday, we went for a lovely walk in the countryside that surrounds Pentyrch. It’s always nice to have a walk around the woodland and hills that were my immediate backyard when growing up. It was even starting to feel much more like spring in absence of the cold winds of the previous days. The valley that leads from the village of Pentyrch down to the Taff contains a lovely deciduous woodland, Coed-Y-Bedw, which is managed by the Wildlife Trusts. To the north is the mountain known simply as Garth, this, of course assumes you are using the definition of a mountain to be the most prominent point on any ground above 1000 ft. Indeed, the debate as to whether Garth is actually a hill or a mountain is played out in the film ‘The Englishman who went up a hill and came down a mountain’ starring Hugh Grant. Either way, the view from the Garth is certainly of mountain standard. As the first prominent high point north of the Severn Estuary at Cardiff, the vista extends from Exmoor and Brean Down through the islands of Flat Holm and Steep Holm, all of the South Wales valleys of world fame for the carboniferous coalfield that sits beneath right up to the twin peaks, Pen-Y-Fan and Corn Du of the Brecon Beacons.

A lovely Easter holiday and great to see Lindsey, Steve and Liz before our big wedding expedition to Scotland in April. We were certainly pleased to arrive back in Lancaster with nice dry and clean camping gear. No need for days of tents draped out in the kitchen for several days this time.

Speed to the West

This July, Imogen and I spent a long weekend in the South Devon AONB, experiencing a proper bit of sun, sea and sand. After a generally cooler than average Spring and Summer so far 'up north' in 2015, we were looking forward to something decidedly more 'tropical' down in the West Country. 

On Friday evening, we pulled into a warm Totnes on a CrossCountry Voayger and had just a short wander through the Tudor market town to a lovely little 'airbnb' on the banks of the River Dart. The accommodation was a Romahome camper, parked up in the leafy back garden of the hosts' terraced house. It was a very cosy and peaceful night, followed by a lazy breakfast on deckchairs in the sunshine by the Dart. 

The 'Romahome' camper in a lovely garden next to the River Dart in Totnes.

The Dart is still just about tidal at Totnes, but not by much. The proximity to the sea was exemplified by the presence of several yachts and boat trips down to the coastal town of Dartmouth. The town itself is worth a good look around. The buildings are finely kept and historic and there are interesting staircases, bridges and a semi-ruined castle. Totnes is also well known as being the founding location of the 'Transition' (pro-sustainability) movement and the first Transition Town. It even has its own currency, the Tones pound, with the aim of keeping money in the local economy. Definitely a place to come back to, but on this trip there was just time to grab a Devonshire pasty and a quick look around before the bus for the Coast. 

The village of Slapton is barely 12 miles from Totnes, but due to the Devon hills and country lanes (and layout of the towns), the bus journey took around 2 hours, with some spare time in the town of Kingsbridge. The latter is another functional country town, sitting at the head of the Kingsbridge Estuary.

We were staying the night with our friend Graeme who works at the FSC Slapton Centre (Field Studies Council). After pitching the tent in the garden of his staff house, we headed for the vast shingle expanse of Slapton Sands. It was true British beach weather by the time we got to the beach; overcast and a brisk, cool wind. Thankfully, I had lugged my wetsuit with me on this trip so the surprisingly cool water did not make too much of an impact. For Imogen and Graeme however it was a question of a brief dip will do. On Saturday evening Graeme took us to one of the country pubs in Slapton village. 

Greame bites into a home-baked calzone, perfect fodder for the coast path! The beaches of Bee Sands and Slapton Sands stretch out into the distance.

Sunday was an altogether better day, and a nice surprise too as it had been forecasting heavy rain all day earlier in the week! This was perfectly timed for our 20 km + jaunt around the South Devon Coast towards Salcombe. The sun was shining in true West Country form and we marched off along the dead straight of the shingle bank that separates the freshwater of Slapton Ley (the largest body of freshwater in the SW) from the salty English Channel. Apparently, the shingle bar is expected to be breached by the sea at some point in the next 50 years, and as you approach Torcross at the far Southern end of the Ley, it's easy to see how with the village being perched on a very narrow stretch of 'land'. The powerlessness of man vs. the sea is evident further along the coast with the Lost Village near Hallsands, where the remains of an old fishing village are just about evident on the wave-cut platform. This part of the world has suffered quite a battering from powerful winter storms in recent years, with the prime example being the breach of the Dawlish Sea wall, closing the Great Western mainline for a couple of months during Feb-March 2014. 

Our coastal walk took us right around Start Point, with its rocky finger like ridge, pointing out Eastwards into the Channel, and onto Prawle Point, with its National Coastwatch Institution lookout station. The Coastwatch stations are an excellent feature of British coast path walking, being a network of 50 former coastguard stations now owned by the charity and staffed entirely by volunteers. There are usually interesting displays about the marine vessels operating in the area, notable shipwrecks and local marine wildlife and bird sightings. 

The section of the SW Coast Path passes many interesting coves and beaches only accessible on foot. We made our way down the steep path into Gammon Cove, tucked in beneath the towering cliffs of Gammon Head. It was fairly busy on the beach, but most of the other visitors had come by yacht or motorboat, which they had moored in the bay. We had a lovely swim in the clear waters, just as well as there were a few jellyfish floating around. 

The wave-cut platform and classic raised beach environment is displayed on the section of coast just east of Prawle Point. 

Gammon Cove and the rugged promontory of Gammon Head.

Imogen and I were booked into a small camping and yurting site called Higher Nature, near East Portlemouth on the Sunday night, an ecological campground set in a lovely peaceful meadow with waist-high flowering grasses. Graeme had carried his bivi-bag around with him and planned to bivi on the coast path prior to walking back to Slapton early on Monday. The Higher Nature site has a cooking cabin for preparing meals, so we made use of that before joining Graeme again for a trip to the pub in East Prawle. It was a good 45 minute walk along the typical hedgerow lined Devonshire lanes to the Pigs Nose at East Prawle, but well worth it. The pub had a very typical West Country feel to it, with several beers and ciders available from the cask. For our return walk to the campsite, the mist had come in, making for an atmospheric wander in the darkness. Graeme set off eastwards to the coast path to find an appropriate bivi spot.

The mist was still in on Monday morning, although by the time we were on the coast path again, bound toward the Salcombe Ria (deep flooded estuaries that typify this section of coast), it had lifted slightly and we caught glimpses of Bolt Head forming the next section west of the yachting town where our journey came to end. The beaches on the east side of the estuary are lovely and sandy and would no doubt be lovely for swimming on a sunny day (but also likely busy in high Summer). We caught the little launch across to Salcombe from the East Portlemouth ferry landing and launched ourselves into the bursting streets of one of the South Wests most 'executive' holiday towns, the size and grandeur of a super yacht moored in the centre of the Ria gave a good indication of the wealth of many of the visitors. The high level of second home ownership and infriltation of high-end clothing shops probably makes for a fairly non-vibrant local economy out of season. We grabbed ourselves some chips for lunch but passed on ice cream until back at Kingsbridge where we once again changed buses for Totnes. It was great to be supporting the local buses given all the cuts to local authority funding, but a shame to be strongly in the minority as 'full fare' paying passengers. The lack of funding has resulted in fares themselves being set at cost-prohibitive rates for families with cars etc. This is something that has to change in areas like the SW, which just become clogged with cars in the high Summer. This was demonstrated perfectly as we queued on the approach to Totnes station for around 10 mins in crawling traffic. 

A misty last day on the coast path leading into the Salcombe Ria.

It was raining and quite cool whilst we awaited departure at Totnes, I was still in my swimming shorts and was feeling quite chilly so paced up and down on the platform to warm up. The journey back north to Birmigham was a treat aboard one of just 5 CrossCountry HST's (Inter-City 125's), the finest way to travel to and from the West. The train was fairly quiet through Devon and Somerset and the HST made for an excellent viewpoint of the Dawlish Coastal section and fine Devonshire countryside between Exeter and Tiverton with its large windows and spacious carriages. It was a case of from the veteran class to the youth with the change at the nearly revamped Birmingham New Street onto a sleek 11-car Pendolino for the journey back to Lancaster. 

Summer comes soonest in the South

Or so once said a promotional poster produced by the Southern Railway in 1936. The vintage print itself depicting a young boy dwarfed on a sunny platform whilst gazing upwards at a gigantic green locomotive of the Southern Region. Far from the metals of the former Southern, and indeed far from the sweltering southern summer months, Imogen and I found ourselves on the UK's southernmost point for the second weekend in December. Keeping up an annual tradition of pre-Christmas excursions, this year we managed to get away for a long weekend in the village of St Ruan, near Cadgwith Cove. Classic Cornish seaside territory.

Gateway to Cornwall; the I.K. Brunel Royal Albert Bridge at Saltash.

We set out from Lancaster in the usual pitch-dark that a December Thursday evening brings on a Pendolino to London. But to brighten up our journey south, I had received a free upgrade for the two of us to First Class from Virgin Trains. What a great treat! We enjoyed fine on board hospitality as we raced south adding to the sense of adventure of setting forth on a great railway journey. We broke the journey overnight in Twickenham with Rowan before continuing towards the West. This gave us the benefit of enjoying the spectacular Great Western mainline to Cornwall entirely in daylight hours on Friday. The journey from Reading brought me onto familiar Great Western turf and of course our outstanding First Great Western HST did not disappoint with a faultless run via rolling Devonshire hills, the South Devon coastal section and the highlight of all, the Royal Albert bridge over the Tamar at Plymouth. For the latter, the HST slows to a crawl for the sharp curves leading onto Brunel's masterpiece. This is where the 1970's HST design comes into it's own, with the slide down windows at the ends of the carriages allowing that true nostalgic railway pastime of observing the goings on without the restraint of a pain of double glazing. Fantastic for photos and views! Long live the HST on the far West route, if we're lucky they could still be with us well into the 2020's.

Lovely Shetland Ponies on the SW Coast Path near Cadgwith Cove. 

Our base for the weekend was the loveliest of converted Cornish Barns. Before Friday nightfall, we just managed a short jaunt to poke our fingers into the biting waters of Cadgwith Cove and explore the interesting rocky promontory known as the Todden, a solid piece of Cornish rock jutting seward several hundred metres effectively cutting Cadgwith into two coves. The Little Barn provided a cosy little retreat upon our return.

Saturday had been forecast as sunny and still all week, a real bonus for our the timing of our trip. We set out under clear blue sky on a remarkably mild sunny morning headed for the SW coast path leading westwards around the Lizard Peninsula from Cadgwith. The Lizard is an area of stark contrasts, a result of unique geology, climatic conditions and vegetation. The Eastward facing coast, is relatively sheltered, sporting dense vegetation and thickets of gorse and sea buckthorn. The locals, make the most of the mild climate, and put on fine displays of sub-tropical ornamental plants in gardens backing onto the clifftop. Our route took us right around the headland of the Southernmost tip of Great Britain passing the lifeboat station at Kilcobben Cove and the scattered assemblage of tourist huts selling all manner of memorabilia. The warmth of the sunshine even permitted the shedding of jumpers at certain points on the walk. Just beyond the Southernmost tip, we stumbled across a worn groove leading down through broken shale to a rickety looking metal ladder. This in turn gave access to a beautiful little rocky cove un-named on the OS map, but at low water forming an extension of Polpeor Cove, accessible from the road leading to the shore from the Southernmost Point. We spent a lovely long lunchtime in almost spring-like sunshine on the cove, prior to clambering back up onto the coast path, and on to Lizard Point proper. At this point, the Lizard coastline turns North West, and the large expanse of Mount Bay opens up towards Penzance and Newlyn in the far distance. This is the rugged, west facing coast of the peninsula, battered by centuries of westerly storms, creating spectacular coastal features in the tough Serpentine rock.

Lizard Point, the most Southerly Point on the British Mainland.

Sunday was much more typical for December weather-wise. Still mild, but the area was battered by a classic westerly storm with super strong winds and heavy showers. We checked out a few beach spots, first on the eastern side of the peninsula at Kennack Sands and then by handy use of the number 37 bus, skipped across to the western side to check out Church, Poldhu, Polurrian and Mullion Coves; all wonderful in their own ways, particularly under the influence of an exciting Atlantic westerly. For Sunday evening, we settled ourselves in at the cosy little Cadgwith Cove Inn, for some fine Cornish fayre, and most importantly, ale.

Church Cove of St Gunwalloe under the influence of a fine December westerly surf.

Monday was our return travel day. First thing, we did manage a quick jaunt down into Cadgwith and around to the Devils Frying-pan. However it was soon time join the number 37 bus once again for the trip inland to Redruth. Our connection to the train at Redruth gave us enough time to check out the small North Cornish mining town and visit the station buffet for a hot chocolate. At 13:31, our royal blue class 43 growled in to Redruth ahead of the long-haul up the Great Western to Paddington. We were riding all the way in to the big smoke, so settled into table seats on the 'coast side' of the train to make the most of the scenery. Given the time of year, it was dark soon after Exeter which gave me the opportunity to settle into my Bradshaws Railway Handbook and read all the descriptions of Great Western towns from a Victorian-era perspective. The final leg of our journey was the usual belt north from Euston aboard the Pendolino. No first class upgrade this time but enjoyable, as ever!

As I drifted to sleep back in our little northern terrace on Monday night, it was with a small smile as brought about from such a majestic excursion deep in the southwest always brings. Cornwall haste-ye back!