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.
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 ...
Holy Trinity Church at Marcross dates from the 12th century. The saddleback roof to its tower reminds me of churches in Wiltshire and Oxfordshire.
There's lots of Norman detailing, though. Including this huge font. Blimey.
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.
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.