Return to Merthyr Mawr and the Sirhowy Valley

One thing that has occasionally irked me these last two years was my failed attempt in 2024 to complete a triangular walk in the lanes and through the fields at the back of the pretty village of Merthyr Mawr in the far west of the Vale of Glamorgan, so when I noticed the same walk described in a different walk book I have, only in the reverse direction, I decided to have another go.

When Cwtch and I arrived at Candleston, it was to find a film shoot in progress somewhere near by, with a large section of the car park taped off, but there was no one about, so we slipped through and set off up the stony lane towards Candleston Farm.

Our route then took us along the edge of a wheatfield, following an old wall. So far, so good.

It was at this point that the path petered out and the directions in the book became very complicated. I felt, briefly, doomed to fail again.

We passed a fallen ash tree ...

... and some very curious young heifers, who were thankfully in an adjoining field.

hedge woundwort coming into bloom

Eventually we made our way to a tree-lined track, the trees being low and requiring me to duck under them. Past a farm and we were headed back down a long lane and along the road from Merthyr Mawr to the car park. We had completed the walk. The car park was still taped off, though, and there were more people about, so I decided not to hang about in the hope of re-visiting Candleston castle, but instead headed for nearby Traeth Yr Afon with Cwtch. This is one of the Porthcawl beaches and I was last there in  February 2019 with Son the Younger, although I've often seen it from the other side of the River Ogmore.

Sand Viper's Gloss

Small restharrow

It looks very pleasant in the photos, but actually the weather wasn't unlike something you might experience in February - at least, the wind was. I'd hoped to get to the end of the beach, where the River Ogmore meets the sea, but progress was slow and we had to turn back just before we reached it, staggering back to the car looking like extras from 'Lawrence of Arabia'.

A good day, apart from the £14 I had to pay in car parking charges, which is a scandal, frankly.

The following day, we went back to the Sirhowy valley, just outside Newport, where we did a short walk last year. I sort of had it in my head to do the longer route, but then I remembered how Son the Younger had tried walking it when he lived in Risca and the path petered out and he had to break his way back down the side of the valley, so settled for walking up and down the disused railway instead. 

honeysuckle and foxglove

foxgloves in every direction

hemlock water dropwort

Cwtch being very brave and paddling by herself

bluetit feather

Looking down on the River Sirhowy

Wall lettuce ... 

... and its wall

wood hawkweed

Down by the Sirhowy

And just like that, the two weeks of Severn tunnel maintenance were over, and hopefully - unless it floods or there are more strikes - my driving the Northerner to work is done for another year. Hwyl fawr, Cymru.

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. 

Traeth Yr Afon and Merthyr Mawr Warren

We had a few hours to fill across the bridge, so we drove through squalls of rain to Porthcawl.

Were we deterred? NO! Not one little bit.

And it did brighten up quite quickly. 

Traeth yr Afon is a lovely, dog-friendly beach. We decided to wander along to its end, where the River Ogmore enters the sea.

The tide was out and the sand pristine. There were really interesting ripple patterns left by the receding tide ...

... and extensive honeycomb worm reefs, which were new to me. 

They're spongy and intricate and the humans amongst us tried to avoid stepping on them.

Ted, meanwhile, was having a literal ball. 

Right down at the water's edge, the tide was coming in fast. 

Just time to chase a few gulls.

By now we were at the mouth of the river, looking across to Ogmore-by-Sea, which I last (and first) visited about 35 years ago. 

We decided to climb up onto the sand dunes, which are part of the Merthyr Mawr warren.

This is the River Ogmore from the dunes.

As at Kenfig and Rhossili, there's a story about a village lost under the sand dunes. Here it's Treganlaw, the 'town of a hundred hands'.  

I was also reminded of John Betjeman's 'sinkininny church' at Trebetherick in Cornwall. 

We needed to be heading back, however ...  

... taking with us a somewhat squitty dog who, for some unfathomable reason, had decided to revive his pupster habit of drinking sea water. 

You love me really, says Ted.