143. Rhoose to Monknash

Having set up our bell tent at the Heritage Coast campsite in the late sunshine last night we then sheltered from a short downpour.  By the time the sun comes out over the sea in the distance, Jenny, Dean, Doug and Raffie the dog have arrived and we enjoy a well-earned rest and supper.

The campers are up early, packing a picnic then being dropped off at Rhoose train station to retrace our steps the short distance back to the coast path.

We stop for a group photo before embarking up the steps and take the path between a low scrubby field and a hedgerow full of juicy blackberries. Before not too long a large building appears, at first, I think a small industrial estate but then realise it’s a kind of club house with a roof balcony serving the caravan park.

The coast path leads along the cliff top beside an extensive parade of plastic-clad dwellings with a fascinating array of garden gnomes, penguins, plastic palms and ivy all lovingly arranged on and under the lodge balconies.  Resident dogs practice their policing patrol as we wander along.

The sea is now beyond an array of meandering pools and set in the trees to our right is the ruins of the East Aberthaw lime works.  The path continues up and down wooden steps until we’re running (well walking) alongside the break water, or for Nigel, on top of it!

We discover an apple tree laden with ripe, almost sweet fruit and proceed to fill our tummies and rucksacks for later.  For our next course we enjoy the ripe little orange berries of sea buckthorn.  They’re not to everybody’s taste but I down a few.

The sun is beating down on us, with a lovely breeze blowing inland from the sea, then what do we discover?  The remains of a barbecue on Leys beach, still smouldering, presumably from last night.  One questions their wisdom and commonsense, especially since Andy, our new prime minister, gave out the advice about no portable barbecues or fires so loudly on our phones, just last week!

Our conscious doesn’t allow us to ignore this potential fire so we stop and dial 999 to report it to the South Wales fire and rescue service.  We would have tried to put it out ourselves but the log that’s smouldering is probably 40 cm + diameter and at least 10 metres long, oh and the sea is a good 50 or so metres away.

Moving on we take the concrete bridge over the River Thaw, then the path between a “too high to see over” breakwater and the high chain-link perimeter fence of Aberthaw power station. The previously coal-fired and biomass power station is mid-way through a demolition and phoenix-like creation of some kind of sustainable future? We’re pleased to hear and see the arrival of the fire brigade at the what-three-words location we gave earlier.

The coast path opens up into a car park then along a very large pebbly beach (both the pebbles and the beach are large!), with an impressive row of large square concrete blocks – presumably war defences. We stumble on and off the beach discovering some fabulous art works emerging from three of the blocks – a pair of dice and a colourful Rubik’s cube.

Our chosen lunch stop is atop a former pill box; it’s just the right height for dangling my feet over the edge.

Once our tummies are full, we head for the sea briefly alongside a field of maize before stumbling over more over-sized grey pebbles then a very tedious array of massive fields.  The first few are bare of crop, short tufts lying amongst the crumbly soil, the next field contains beet, their leaves wilting in the midday sun.  The farmer is busy ploughing the next, birds a buzz around him.

It’s now 2 pm, time for a short snack stop.  Across the widening Severn estuary we can make out the cranes of Hinkley Point power station where we camped last May. Not at the power station, but in a campsite very close by where we could hear the hum and see the glow throughout the night.

Ahead, I admire the horizontal strips of the cliff formation.  The fields turn more and more scrubby before we arrive on top of the cliff overlooking the Col-Hugh River valley and a large car park, café and stony beach.  It’s always strange to arrive amongst hustle and bustle when you’ve been out in the wilder landscape.

We stop long enough for an ice-cream and comfort break before taking the steep steps onwards. It feels good to be back on the cliff tops.  A pill box is a fabulous photo opportunity for Jenny to do a yoga pose.

Rowers are enjoying todays extremely calm sea water, maybe they’ve been exploring the Tresilian Bay cave, below the promontory ahead, which I can see marked on the map?  Maybe they are attempting to throw a stone over the “bow of destiny” arch to predict when they will marry?  Apparently, your wedding day is one year further away for every time you miss!

Arable fields turn to sheep fields then a slight detour inland through woodland before arriving at St. Donat’s Bay. A concrete quay and slipway to a little beach is attracting a few swimmers and dog walkers. Peering through the estate gates we can see a swimming pool and what turns out to be the UWC training college and the site of a National Coastguard Institution station.  Apparently, also where the Rigid Inflatable Boat (RIB) was invented.

It feels good to get out of todays intense sunrays in the woodland ahead with its stunted sycamore’s, wilting ferns and glimpses through the branches to the blue sea.  It’s not for long though, we are soon back out in the open and approaching Nash Point lighthouse.

Built following a paddle steamer disaster in 1831 this lighthouse has shone it’s light every night since 1^st September, 1832, not far off 200 years! After posing for photos, we pass by the now retired foghorn and smaller, also retired west lower lighthouse and out of the metal gates.

The clifftop café, just below the lighthouses, looks very enticing but we are not far from our campsite now and starting to feel weary. Raffie, the dog, is recovering from an infection and this is the longest walk his little legs have done for months.

A grassy path alongside a field full of stubble takes us to the next dip which we descend then walk back up the valley. Just a trickle of water runs through but we’re assured that normally its gushing. Now off the coast path, it’s a half hour stroll through the pretty valley to the welcome of our little tent and the prospect of a pub meal at the Plough and Harrow this evening.