Introducing Mumbles Myths

A number of years ago I had a Good Idea. (I should write a book entitled Liz's Good Ideas That Never Got Anywhere.)

I live in a beautiful part of the country. Gower was the first designated Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in the UK and is a popular place with tourists. There are various guides around and photo books about Gower but they tend to be quite factual and what I like to read is more personal, an insider's view or story. So my idea was to collaborate with a photographer and come up with such a book.

I spoke to one well-known local photographer and then another. Both expressed interest, especially the second, but neither pursued it eventually. In the meantime I'd got on and written a few bits and pieces to inspire their photographs.

I came across my writing the other day when I was looking for something else so I thought I may as well post it here. I'll subtitle all the different posts Mumbles Myths.

That's another thing about walking on my own: I write blog posts in my head while walking and then splurge them all out. 

Another first for me!

Today we walked out to the end of the Worm. It took us one and a half hours to get out there and one hour to get back. From the base of the cliff that is. Add another 20-30 minutes on each way for climbing back up the hill and walking to and from the car park. No wonder we're all - George included - ready for bed.

You have to time your visit carefully as the headland is cut off at high tide and it's further and trickier than you might expect. Well, really there's only one tricky bit that is between the first and second headlands. On the way out we scrambled up and down sharp rocks made slippery by the hundreds of boots that have tramped over them no doubt. George really struggled in places and occasionally husband had to give him a bunk up and once we had to find an alternative way. Mostly though he acts as though he has mountain goat blood.

On the way back we took the flatter - and seaweedy - route. 

I'm not certain but I think this might be raw laverbread.

Every now and again George decided he had to retrieve a stone from the bottom of a rock pool and bring it with him. 

One of the highlights, apart from actually being on the Worm after all these years, was seeing seals sunbathing on the rocks.

The view to the end from the first headland. As you may imagine the scariest bit was crossing over that 'bridge', a narrow rocky passageway, in the wind. I had to pretend I was Indiana Jones.

The only disappointing part of the day was the tea and cake afterwards. The only cafe open is a little bistro that may very well do excellent home-made burgers but its cakes are mass produced.

Last time I had Victoria sponge. I never normally have sponge out because my home-made is too good! But this one looked nice so I thought I should break the habit of a lifetime; I shouldn't have. Today it was chocolate brownie. It was probably all right as shop brownies go but mine are much better. In a place like Rhossilli there just should be a marvellous little tea shop. Toilets are pretty manky too. The public ones that is not the ones in the cafe.

Before we made our way home I returned again to visit the tiny little church of St Mary the Virgin. On the wall inside is a plaque to local man Edgar Evans, who died in 1912 with Captain Scott on their return journey from the South Pole.

There's also a lovely window dedicated to the first bishop of Northern Nigeria.

Taking the plunge

Yesterday morning Husband said, 'Let's go for a swim in the sea this afternoon.'
'O-kaaay.'

We've not been in the sea in the UK for some time (in my case baptisms excepted). That's the problem with having your own swimming pool: you're disinclined to make the effort to join the heated throngs battling for car park spaces not to mention space on the sand. I spent the rest of the morning psyching myself up for what I was sure would be a chilling experience. Husband said, 'We don't have to; I just thought you might like to.'
'My younger self would never forgive me if I turned this down.'

As children, my friend, Maggi, and I would stay in the water until we were blue. 'A-a-a-en't you c-c-c-c-coming in?' I'd ask my mum and be shocked when she'd decline. Now I fully understand.

So it was with trepidation that we strolled down to Pobbles in the afternoon.

It wasn't too crowded and the water was so good we went in twice!

George couldn't quite see the point of going in the sea if you weren't chasing a stick but he grudgingly came with us.

A sunny Sunday afternoon

The trouble with a photography workshop is that it makes you (me) realise how rubbish you are (I am) at taking photos. Even the ones I took during the afternoon. I can't say there's one I'm really thrilled with.

But the good thing is that I've learned a lot including more about how to use my camera and most of all been given the confidence to experiment, try out different settings. I can't pretend I understand shutter speed, exposure, depth of focus completely - but I know a bit more than I did before and I'm going to practise. And it will take an awful lot of practice, believe me!

Pete Russell, who ran the workshop, is a professional photographer and a very good teacher. Explains things simply and has limitless patience. 'Pete, tell me again: do I need the shutter speed to be fast or slow for this?'

There were only three of us on the course, but each of us had a different camera/knowledge/interest. One absolute added bonus was the fact that we spent a gorgeous sunny Sunday afternoon tripping around the top spots on the Gower beauty parade. 

Here are what I think are the best of the bunch. Sadly my camera battery died just before sunset at Rhossilli so I had to switch to my tablet, which meant a lot of wobble and less control.

Trying to grasp the rule of thirds as well as leading into and out of photos.

This would have been better if I'd caught it a moment or two earlier while still in the sparkly bit of sea.

Not quite a silhouette and spoiled by the people in it.

Discovered the camera could do panoramas! Also never before noticed how much Arthur's stone resembles a dog.

The colour of the light is warmer now. 

Last photo with my camera. 

Taken with tablet.

'You're not really going out like that, are you?'

And I'd just spent ages showering and getting ready.

But, glancing down at my falling-apart walking boots and Eric Morecambe shorts, I had to admit Husband had a point. I still went out like it.

Inspired by the BBC programme Countryfile that featured it recently, we were going to the north west corner of Gower, a part with which I am unfamiliar. I've stayed at St. Madoc camp and explored that side but had never ventured around Whiteford Point so that was our planned destination.

It's off the usual tourist map and the only parking is a farmer's field with an honesty box. (Apparently it was broken into recently and was ripe for breaking into again as it was ram-jammed full of coins.) Our walk took us along the beach,

 through the dunes, 

across the marsh, 

and into the woods,


 carefully avoiding potential unexploded bombs.

Who am I trying to kid? Of course we didn't avoid it; we went out of our way to inspect this round metal object. I didn't go so far as to kick it though. Just in case.

Whiteford Point is home to the last remaining iron lighthouse in Europe.

And the marsh is home to a herd of Welsh mountain ponies.

After three hours walking we felt we deserved a piece of cake and a cup of tea on our way home so we stopped at Siop y Bobl (literally shop of the people - community shop run by volunteers). You just know the cake is going to be good when you see a white-haired and slightly trembly granny figure in a pinny clearing tables. And it was. Carrot cake for Husband and rhubarb and custard cake for me.

Having enjoyed a good day out we once again resolved to spend more time enjoying ourselves in future!

Glorious Gower

Crawley Woods down to Nicholaston Burrows

Rhossili

The remains of the Helvetia, shipwrecked November 1887.

From the Explore Gower website:
Rhossili was not a stranger to profit from shipwrecks, previous centuries had witnessed the violence of the Rhossili Wreckers - who lured in unsuspecting ships caught in troubled seas to be smashed against the rocks, in order to acquire their cargo. Such purposeful wrecking confined to the past, the locals would still always make good use of the wreckwood from the beaches, and nearly all of the surviving old farm buildings down the far end of the peninsula are constructed from such reclamation.

A basket of hope

It was a glorious Spring morning, ideal for a walk to Pwll Du.

 Where I hand-picked about 30 big and 30 small stones to bring home. Husband, trying to be helpful, grabbed a big handful and dropped them in my bag. 'No, no, they can't be just any stones; they have to be just right.'

And here's my basket of hope for Zac's this afternoon, our very first Sunday meeting.

A summer evening stroll

Last evening's walk took us along the cliff path from Brandy Cove to Pwll Ddu. Looking back on Caswell.
And on Pwll Ddu.

Come for a walk with us

On Sunday we parked at Southgate and walked along the headland down into Pobbles. When the tide is out - as it was - Pobbles and Three Cliffs become one big bay.

This is especially for Sometimes Saintly Nick who said he would like to join us on a walk.

World environment day

A very quickly put together video to show you my environment on World Environment Day. Long may Gower stay untouched and as beautiful as it is now.

Summertime and the living is easy

Brian and me on the top of Cefn Bryn this afternoon.

xxx

Around Gower on a quilt

As I said, we have several quilting groups that meet at Linden. Swansea Quilters recently won first prize in a national competition, for a group entry, which is now hanging on the wall inside the church building. It's a collection of individual quilted 'postcards' from Swansea and Gower, so come, take a tour of our beautiufl area.

xxx

SOS

Photo on the left, taken some time probably in the 60s, of my mum on Rotherslade beach.

Photo below taken last month of the same beach.

It's changed. They've taken away what had become a ramshackle old structure and made it safe and easily accessible. But the major change isn't man-made, or rather, not intentionally.

The ratio of sand to stones on a beach changes slightly week to week; that's inevitable. But the change on this particular beach now is striking.

It's 'my beach', the one we nearly always went to as I was growing up. it was the closest within walking distance of the village, and it wasn't that popular with tourists, being more of a locals's beach. There was a band of pebbles at the top and then patches here and there but it was a sandy beach. All that has changed.

In the colour photo you should be able see three different bands of pebbles. On high tide the sea comes up to the top one - even higher on occasion. Below this mark there should be sand; there was sand. Now as you see the stones go much further down the beach.

The big rock on the left is called Donkey Rock and is popular for diving from (when the tide's in!) Again in the photo you can see it has a darker grey bit around the bottom; when I was growing up that band of rock was covered.

Many people blame sand dredging off the coast for this change in our coastline: it's affected a number of beaches, such as Port Eynon, on Gower. There is even a Save Our Sands campaign. Seeing the impact for myself has made me think that I must get in touch with them.