Between two bridges

 It was a clear, sunny day towards the end of a particularly wet, dark winter, so I put on my melt-the-ice solidarity hat and headed to Aust on the banks of the River Severn, for a dose of light and wide blue skies. 

It was very bright on the river, which wasn't great for taking photos of either the old Severn bridge (my favourite) or the cliffs, which were deep in shadow, but no matter, it was just good to be out and about somewhere - well, not new, of course, but different, all non-essential road trips having been limited of late. 

We picked our way across the muddy warth up to what passes for a beach and on to the old bridge. 

In the foreground, the remains of a wooden frame to which putchers (withy baskets) were attached, for catching salmon.

Aust is famous for its fossils, but I didn't find anything pocketable this time. 

On the return leg, a view of the rather less beautiful, but still impressive new Severn bridge, which isn't all that new anymore, I suppose.

The path that led to the ferry buildings of the Old Passage is gated now, and the gate chained, all the buildings having been demolished in 2019, but there's still a route through the reeds to the shore.

It's poignant to see the rotting remains of the jetty, the start- and end-point of a crossing that served for thousands of years, with the bridge that replaced it in the 1960s in the background ... 

... itself now largely supplanted by its newer, more windproof counterpart, three miles downstream. It's a pity the ferry buildings couldn't have been rebuilt, rather than pulled down, and repurposed as a Museum of the Severn and its crossings. 

Ah, Cwtch, a stick that's too big even for you

Chasing the moon in Charmouth

If it's the third weekend in April (or sometimes fourth when there's five weekends in the month), it must be roboteering in Crewkerne for Son the Elder and a bit of pottering around in Dorset for me. Like last year, I made for Charmouth to rehearse the poem I was due to read during the Lyra Bristol Poetry Festival closing event on Sunday evening in the sea's hearing. Unlike last year, it stayed sunny all day and was pleasantly warm.

Golden Cap in the middle distance

I also dug around in the shingle while I sat on the beach, amassing a pockeful of sea glass and some pebbles. A mindful trip through time and the rolling waves. 

Later in the afternoon, I decided to walk up the cliff path heading east, to see if I could get a closer view of Golden Cap from the top, and set off following the almost full moon that was just rising.

As I huffed my way up the steep path, I noticed a tiny piece of blue and white hoggin, which also made its way into my pocket.

I climbed and climbed past mounds and banks that reminded me of an iron-age hillfort, but isn't ... 

... and a ruined wall in the middle of a field to my left ... 

... and stunning sea views, with blackthorn and stitchwort, on my right ...

... with a steep drop on either side. 

a close-up of stitchwort

a scattering of bluebells

dog-violets

wild strawberries

first red campion of 2024

shining crane's-bill

gorse and the moon again

After about a mile and a half the path levelled out and skirted inland a little, a line of trees blocking most of the view up ahead, with the exception of the Isle of Portland. Sadly, I didn't have time to follow it or the moon any further, and what's more it was getting dusky, so I headed back downhill. 

Looking towards Lyme Regis and the Cobb

Although it doesn't show up in the photo, I could see all the way alond the coastline to Start Point in Southest Devon. 

more blackthorn and stitchwort

looking down on the River Char and a dewpond

Back on the beach, the last of the sun lit Golden Cap and the cliffs beyond. Maybe next time I'll even reach it.

 

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.