Early October at Southerndown and Llantwit Major

Another day, another rail strike. (Solidarity.) Faced with the prospect of two round trips from Bristol to Cardiff through heavy traffic, I decided to spend the day with the dog on the Glamorgan coast instead, and having dropped The Northerner at work, set off for Southerndown, which I last visited 40-odd years ago.  

It was high tide when we arrived, so we walked up through Slade Wood and across several fields to the edge of the village of Southerndown. 

On the way we saw this tree, which appears to be flourishing despite clearly having fallen some time ago ... 

... plus these intriguingly wind-warped whitethorns.

Our route involved several stiles ...

... and a bent old kissing gate (always more picturesque than the modern variety) ...

... although this  newer one wins the prize for best tune.

The return leg of our short walk took us along the cliff edge, with views along to Porthcawl ... 

... and ahead to the cove of Southerndown, which also goes by the name of Dunraven Bay. Poor Cwtch was kept firmly on the lead in case she tried to chase a seagull over the cliff edge.

Meanwhile, across the rain-squally Bristol Channel, the coast of Exmoor.

En route I found these young puff balls, but decided to leave them for someone else to have a fine breakfast once they'd grown a bit bigger.

As we descended to the car park, you could see Dunraven hill fort on the opposite cliff and so-called Dunraven Castle, which is really just a manor house that was castellated in the 19th century. 

Cwtch and I decided against labouring up the long flight of steps to the fort and set off for our second destination, Llantwit Major. Having last visited - inadvertently - at the end of May, during the summer dog ban, I was looking forward to letting Cwtch run on the beach, but just three days into the season of the dog, there were diggers on the beach and it didn't feel safe to let her run. Instead we climbed up the steps up the cliff to Castle Ditches Camp, a second iron-age hill fort.

From here, we could see the lighthouse at Nash Point, where I walked with Son the Younger, his then dog, Lucy, and my old collie, Ted, back in 2018. 

The coast path took us up and down over the ramparts of the fort and then along the edge of a large arable field. 

After a while we turned inland, passing a large piece of farm machinery surrounded by sunflowers, and some sheep, at which Cwtch directed a hard stare. 

At this point we had to make a sizeable detour as our path was blocked by a load of sheep and a lorry, and we ended up in some hellscape of mock wooden cabins. We eventually found a way out and back down to the sea, following a footpath that ran alongside the little River Col-huw. All the whitethorns that were still just blossoming back at the end of May were now clotted with berries, with dashes of white provided by Old Man's Beard.

Back at the beach, we walked out a little way on the limestone pavements the receding tide had uncovered, steering well clear of the cliffs, which don't look all that stable. 

A shower of rain forced us into the car for the last hour of our stay, much to Cwtch's disgruntlement, then back to Cardiff and the eventual drive home.

Another day our in Wales brought to you by the RMT union and ASLEF, but a far better and cheaper prospect than spending twice as long sitting in heavy traffic. I hope they get a resolution soon. 

Major fun in Llantwit

Solidarity with everyone on strike, especially the rail workers. Last week it meant driving several return trips to Cardiff to get the Northerner to work, and on Wednesday I decided to stay in Wales and make a day of it. 

I'd already walked a fair bit of the Glamorgan Heritage Coast, betimes with Son the Younger and our old collie, Ted, more recently with Cwtch. This time Cwtch and I decided to explore the area around Llantwit Major, starting at Cwm Col-Huw beach. 

Looking west towards St Donat's

Looking back to where the river flows through a gap in the cliffs onto the beach

I'd checked before our trip and found the beach described as dog-friendly; it was only when I got back home that another website informed me dogs were banned from May to September; anyhow, we didn't get told off or escorted from the area,  and we definitely left no trace.

After we'd wandered down to where the River Col-huw meets the sea, we made our way back to the steps at the start of our walk, looking for fossils on the way, but the best one we saw was far too large for our mantelpiece.

Our walk started with a climb up the steps to the path that leads inland, along the high valley side of the River Col-Huw to Llantwit Major ...

... with views looking back to the coast.

Speckled wood butterfly

The first obstacle we encountered was a picturesquely bent kissing gate, which I had a job squeezing through with my backpack on my back. There then followed a series of stone stiles the length of the walk, but which I'm posting pictures of now. Needless to say, Cwtch is now a dab paw at scrambling over them. 

We then walked along the narrow and appropriately straight path called Church Lane. Cwtch was very interested in some sheep we passed. They remained unimpressed. 

A 13th century dovecote

I'm making an exception for this stile and posting a larger picture of it because I love how worn the stone steps are, how much use it must have seen over centuries.

Ogney Brook by St Illtyd's Church

The 9th and 10th century Celtic Stones housed in the Galilee Chapel

Unfortunately, the floor of the church was being stripped, so it wasn't possible to get right inside and have a proper look at all of its treasures. I did get a glimpse of some of its mediaeval wall paintings ...  

... the Norman font ... 

... and a couple of its effigies, but I'm really going to have to go back for a proper look, maybe when the dog beach ban ends in October. (Sadly, I expect the railway workers and train drivers will still be on strike, unless we get a change of government.) 

Incidentally, Llantwit Major has been targeted recently by far-right activists trying to foment discord over a nearby refugee facility. Good to see the town resisting by offering them Welsh cakes. Seems like a sound place.

Mediaeval preaching cross in the churchyard

Leaving the church, we retraced our steps to the mediaeval grange, which included the dovecote we saw on our outward journey. The grange belonged to Tewkesbury Abbey from the early 12th century to 1539. 

Our route then took us back to the coast over a series of stone stiles between fields. At one point I heard a roll of thunder, which turned out to be a herd of very curious, very persistent cows. 

chamomile

Back by the sea there were more sheep, these waiting to be sheared in the ruin of Sheeplays Barn.

After a short stretch skimming a wood, our path took us back along the edge of the cliffs to the beach, where we were careful not to get too close to the crumby edge or tread on this Lackey moth caterpillar.

Back at the car park, a final glance up the beautiful Col-Huw valley and it was time to head for the horror show of the M4 and Cardiff on strike day. We'll be back.