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.

Nash Point Lighthouse and St Donat's

On, then, from the loveliness of Llancarfan, past St Athan where my father was stationed after the war,  to the coast, hoping it would stop drizzling. Or at least I was. The dogs didn't care; Son the Younger had a sensible weather-proof coat with him; mine proved not to be in the boot of my car after all, but back at home.

We parked by the cafe at Nash Point, where a buoy with a bell heaves and subsides, heaves and subsides.

Exmoor was just visible across the Bristol Channel. 




The lighthouse station consists of two towers, the low (west) and high (east), which were both completed in 1832. 

The west tower saw service till the early 1920s.

The east tower became fully automated in 1998.

We were off amid soft rain and lark song ...

... soon to encounter a series of extremely dog-unfriendly stiles that blighted our route. 

Young puppers like Lucy can be carried over the ones she can't jump or squeeze through. 

For more señor dogs like Ted, who begin to resemble part of the landscape as they age, they are a Trial and an Indignity. Moreover, I couldn't have hoisted him over without help, and this would make this route impossible to walk alone. 

There was some bright fuzzy fungus, though ... 

... and some black mustard which is actually yellow and looked well against the unremitting grey of the sea. 

Red soldier beetles on hogweed

We left the coast just past the bottom of St Donat's College, skirting it as far as the road and then entering the grounds and walking down to the eponymous church ... 

... which is overlooked by the castle, which once belonged to William Randolph Hearst and was Much Visited by Famous People. (It's now an international Sixth Form College.) 

Fourteenth century churchyard cross

The thing I liked best inside the church was the Norman font, which is somehow very pleasing to the eye. 

And the thickness of the walls - I loved that too.

We were heading back towards Nash Point now, through more woods ... 

... over more uncompromising stiles ... 

... along field paths ... 

... and more bloody stiles ... 

... and another bloody church, thought everyone but me. 

Holy Trinity Church at Marcross dates from the 12th century. The saddleback roof to its tower reminds me of churches in Wiltshire and Oxfordshire. 

It's really plain inside, rather like a Methodist chapel.

There's lots of Norman detailing, though. Including this huge font. Blimey. 

South doorway

Chancel arch

Detail of 13th century tomb

And anyhow, God must have been Watching all that church-hopping because the rain stopped. In fact, it was threatening to sun. 

We crossed Cwm Marcross and climbed the gully. Another high stone stile had us clambering over a broken fence instead, though it was way too close to the cliff edge for comfort. 

It was a lovely if tussocky stroll for just over a mile along the cliff tops to Cwm Nash, and then about turn to walk back to the car park. 

The layered rock and limestone pavements reminded me strongly of Kilve, which isn't surprising given it is just the other side of the Channel (and up a bit) from here. 

Poets are always instructed to show, not tell. I'll let the rest of the photos do that.

Our drive home was extended by two hours following a fatal car crash on the M4, a quarter of a mile ahead of our car, and it made me thankful for my beautiful day and any to come.