The Castles of Ogmore and Candleston

 It was off to the polling station first thing on Thursday ... 

... and then on to Cardiff, to drop The Northerner at work, not because of a strike this time, but because the Severn Tunnel is closed for repair/maintenance and Network Rail haven't seen fit to lay on any replacement coach services, so train journeys between the Welsh capital and Bristol are necessarily via Gloucester and several times longer than usual. 

Rather than shuttling between the two cities in the morning and then back again in the afternoon, Cwtch and I drove on to Ogmore. Cwtch got very excited as we turned into the lane that runs down to the castle; I swear she recognised it from our previous visit.  

This time I intended to walk to Candleston Castle and the back of Merthyr Mawr Warren, which I visited with Son the Younger and our old collie, Ted, back in 2019.  This meant braving the long line of stepping stones across the River Ewenny - no mean feat with a collie who doesn't care for water. 

I unclipped her retractable lead - I'm not a complete idiot - and started across them but Cwtch remained paw deep in water and didn't follow. So I went back to the beginning, encouraged her onto the first stone and set off again. This time she pushed past to lead the way; that is, until she got to a pair of stones with a slightly wider gap than the rest and stopped dead in her tracks. I went ahead at this point, and for the rest of the crossing, could feel her nose pressed against the back of my leg, so close was she. But she did it. Hooray for the brave little collie!

On the far side, further challenges for a small collie to contend with, though my inner seven-year-old was in heaven. Horses! 

Looking back across the River Ewenny to Ogmore Castle

Our next obstacle was the River Ogmore, crossed by a suspended footbridge, which was easier for Cwtch to contemplate than the stepping stones, but still wobbled disconcertingly. 

River Ogmore

We soon reached the picturesque village of Merthyr Mawr with its thatched cottages. 

Our route took us up over a couple of fields. At this point, the guide book said the track can get overgrown and  hard to follow. Actually, it was the directions that foxed me: they didn't seem to bear any resemblance to what I could see in front of me. With time tight, I decided I couldn't keep making forays in different directions in the hope I'd find another waymark that proved we were heading in the right direction, so I reluctantly retraced our steps down the hill. 

pink hogweed

meadowsweet

a thrush egg

Back at the village I headed for the Church of St Teilo, which looked very neat in its very tidy churchyard - although a notice informed people who might think it not tidy enough that some nettles had been left uncut for Peacock, Red Admiral and Small Tortoiseshell butterflies.  

The current church building is Victorian, in the Gothic Revival style. It looks great but being comparatively modern, lacks much in the way of quirk ... 

... though this font dates from the 13th century ...

... and the preaching cross in the churchyard is also mediaeval. 

And then, on the north side of the churchyard, I found - what joy! - this hut housing a crowd of inscribed and carved early mediaeval pillars, slabs and crosses.

They were all found locally, and it's really good this is where they've stayed, but it would wonderful if they had more substantial housing, with user-friendly interpretation boards. Of course with a modern church, there's no spare chapel going begging, like the Galilee Chapel at St Illtyd's in Llantwit Major, which houses that church's collection of ancient Celtic crosses. 

On then, past barley fields fringed with Himalayan balsam and clumps of rough chervil, to the privately-run car park at Merthyr Mawr Warren, where we soon located Candleston Castle, despite the lack of maps and/or information boards there (apart from Have You Paid Your Parking Fee notices at every path leading out of it).

The castle - a fortified manor house - was built in the 14th century and fell into ruin in the 19th. Even in bright sunlight it was atmospheric.

We were now at the back of the dune system ...

... and the vegetation changed accordingly: here, restharrow and common stork's bill. 

I lacked the energy, though, to climb this dune - it's steeper than it looks - for a view of ... more dunes, probably, so we walked the mile or so back to the village and recrossed the River Ogmore via the footbridge.

The river is tidal here and the level lower than before, but even so, I decided asking Cwtch to cross a long stretch of stepping stones for a second time in one day might be pushing my luck, so we sought out the concrete footbridge that crosses the River Ewenny further upstream.

Hemlock Water Dropwort lining the banks 

Back at Ogmore Castle car park, we watched sand martins and one or two swallows dip and curve over the Ewenny before heading back to Cardiff, then Bristol and a long night watching Tory ministers - and one former Prime Minister - lose their seats. A good day! 

A bluster on the Ogmore estuary

I'm in solidarity with the striking railway workers, of course, even though strike days mean a round trip from Bristol to Cardiff in rush-several-hours traffic to retrieve the Northerner, who relies on the train to get to work. Last week neither the evening nor the morning train was running, and as His Nibs was working a slightly truncated day, I decided to brave the blustery weather and stay in Wales for the duration. 

Cwtch the collie came too, of course, and after lengthy discussion, we decided on a sit-down on the beach at Ogmore-by-Sea, followed by a wander up the River Ogmore to Ogmore Castle. 

Looking over to Traeth yr Afon ...

... and the dunes of Merthyr Mawr

When I say 'blustery', it was actually blowing a gale, and we soon decided that hunkering on the beach wasn't an option and headed upstream, where we hoped it would be more sheltered. It wasn't ... but at least the wind was behind us, which was as well as a very wet rain started falling. 

There was the distraction of some giant parasol mushrooms growing amongst the bracken, though, and a sheep who clearly recognised Cwtch as a gringa, by upbringing if not birth, despite her Welsh name.

As we moved further up the valley, it stopped raining but stayed windy, which meant the back of my jacket and jeans soon felt quite dry.

Just above the bridge that leads to the sewage works is the point where the River Ewenny flows into the Ogmore, and it was along the bank of the former that our route continued, just a short way, to Ogmore Castle, complete with an array of molehills.

We're told Ogmore Castle was initially built of earth and wood by William de Londres, shortly after 1100, being fortified with a stone keep in 1116, when a Welsh lord attempted to get his land back. A curtain wall followed in the early 13th century. The moat was designed to fill with water at high tide. It was in use until the 19th century, as a court and a prison amongst other things, since when it's fallen into ruin.

There were sheep here too, guarding the ruins and equally unimpressed by Cwtch, who was safely on the lead at this point on our walk. 

Below the castle is a set of stepping stones crossing the Ewenny. Even though they were relatively low in the water, they looked a lot easier to cross than many of the ones I've tried on Dartmoor, but I didn't fancy doing it with a collie who's afraid of water in tow. 

I decided to walk back down to the beach along the edge of the warth, even though it was quite slippery in places from where the sheep had churned the mud. It was interesting being down at the level of the river instead of on the footpath above it, and I found a curlew feather. It was a job keeping it from blowing away in the wind. 

The red plant I took for glasswort, though it was more prostrate in habit than other glassworts I've seen. 

Eventually I realised that I wasn't going to be able to get all the way around to the beach along the side of the river, and would either have to retrace my steps a fair way or climb a short but steep and muddy path up the side of the cliff. This photo looking down doesn't really give you an idea of how steep it was ... 

... but I had to resort to hand and foot climbing, and was reminded of the last time I decided I was way too old for this sort of thing.

Back at Ogmore-by-Sea it was gloomy east of the river, where we were, and fine to the west. 

There was just enough time for Cwtch to have a little play on the beach ... 

... before we had to make our way back to Cardiff with our small treasures.