Trent Riverside Walk

Bit of a pleasant surprise this walk. I took my car to Gainsborough for an MOT, and being advised of a couple of hour wait, I decided to meander down to the riverside where there is an industrial landscape path and a few sleepy information boards. Thankfully no urban maniacs around. It was a lovely day with the sun dancing on the river, and illuminating the ochres of industrial brickwork and obsolete rusted machinery. The burdock and umbellifers had all but set seed and were nodding sagely to the passing river, acknowledging its majesty.

The River Trent also has some notable historical mentions including King Canute who stood in the River Trent in an attempt to hold back the tide. It was believed it was to demonstrate that power is vain compared to the supreme power of God. It was also here in Gainsborough that some of the Pilgrim Separatists fled from the town on a barge up the River Trent in search of religious freedom in May 1608. They met others at an isolated place along the coast near Immingham where they boarded a Dutch ship to Amsterdam. Some would later return and board the Mayflower in Plymouth in 1620.

From the Visit Lincoln website. 

 

Rhoscolyn Head

Setting out on foot from Hafod, you are right on the coastal path. Heading south, you are immediately thrust into a wonderland of breathtaking cliffs, idyllic coves, barren headland, distant forlorn mansions, and huge arches of rock gouged out by the sea. 

Initially, I made a few daily forays along the headland. I was suffering from plantar fasciitis which I did not allow to disrupt my enjoyment of the headland. Eventually I was able to take the full walk down to Traeth Borth Wen and back again. Further along the coastal path is St. Gwenfaen's Well an ancient holy well described by Dafydd Meirion as "One of the best preserved Holy Wells on the Island", and it's associated church. The highest point on the walk is on the cliffs at the Coastguard's lookout. All together, there is just about every kind of feature along the walk, of course at all times under the watchful and restless eye of The Cruel Sea. 

Bryn Celli Ddu Revisted... Again

I think you might be gathering by now that I cannot go to North Wales and not visit Bryn Celli Ddu. Whilst this may seem like an obsessional trait, I can reassure you I have moved on from my original fixation of the Druid's Circle at Penmaenmawr, which I must have attended a dozen times. Given the enormous number of neolithic sites in North Wales, I am ultimately optimistic for my mortal (and etheric) soul in the long run. On this occasion, Bryn Celli Ddu was particularly beautiful and the photography worked out better than ever probably due to lighting (ok, or familiarity). 

Hafod

We went for a family holiday to a 6 bedroom big old house which overlooked the sea, called Hafod, at Trearddur Bay in Anglesey. Hafod was once the summer home of the author Nicholas Monsarrat and his family. Monsarrat wrote many novels including the wartime classic The Cruel Sea (1951). Monsarrat said of his time at Hafod:

“We always enjoyed the time we spent over at Ravenspoint, there was an endless variety of things to do and to learn. Ravenspoint, standing high up on the southerly arm of the bay, commanded a magnificent view of the whole coast-line nearly to South Stack lighthouse. On rough days the waves, surging in with the full force of the gale behind them, swept past in successive mile-long crests, piling up until they broke in a white flurry and fell thunderously onto the beach”

I love big old draughty holiday homes. I occupied the top floor and took two rooms; one for an office, and the other for sleeping. The bedroom had a dormer window, out of which the sea was reassuringly within touching distance, and for the duration of the holiday I was gifted with waxing, full, and waning moonlight cascading through the window. The full moon imparted a swollen and at times angry aspect to the sea, which was a pleasure to enjoy in all of her moods. Watching an old black & white movie (I recommend The Cruel Sea 1953, dir. Charles Frend) to the crackling fire, warmed by red wine, was a poetic delight. Below is some photography I took from the bottom of the garden at Hafod. If you skip over the stone wall, you are on the coastal footpath and right on the cliffs looking out to sea.

Nicholas Monsarrat