Wales Part III -> Gower and Cardiff (And Home)

November 21, 2022 by libertatemamo 16 Comments

There’s snow in the Pyrenees today and the air is wet with the first touches of true winter weather. My now seems such a long time ago from then, yet my thoughts still cast back to the last few days of September and the end of my trip to Wales. Such is blogging life sometimes, real yet not always up to date.

So lets go back in time together, shall we?

Along winding roads to the south of Wales, out to the mysterious Gower Peninsula where pirates once roamed and surfers now flock for waves that travel for miles on the second highest tidal range in the world. Then over to the coastal city of Mumbles with its Victorian pier and finally away from nature to the very, very big city, exchanging empty trails for crazy traffic, cafes for restaurants and (of course) seeing a last grand castle to complete the mix. I got lost, I got blown away and I finally got to eat that curry I’d been dreaming about since I landed in the UK.

This is my last blog on Wales, the end of my epic trip and a fine finale to my time in this gorgeous place.

The Gower Peninsula

If you look at a map of Wales there’s a rather interesting squiggly bit that sticks out into the Bristol Chanel about half way down the southern coast.

It’s the last “green” bit before you hit the denser parts of the country around the big cities of Swansea and Cardiff, a teeny outcrop of only ~70-square-miles (180sq km) that looks almost deserted on the map with only a vague network of roads and plenty of parts that seem impossible to get to. But it’s also famous, both for its epic tides and also for its distinction of being the first area in the United Kingdom to be designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in 1956.

All of which makes it irresistibly intriguing, of course.

When I get here I find that everything is different, yet again. Still wild but perhaps not as rough as some of the other parts of Wales I’ve been to so far. The hills are a smidgen softer and more rolling, weather beaten but not as raw as the North. The beaches are larger, much larger (especially when the tide is out) and there are more sheep than anywhere else I’ve been to so far. In fact for the first time ever I’m blocked along several roads by herds who saunter as nonchalantly as princes, clearly in charge of the place.

The forecast is intense too, a call for strong winds and scattered showers, both of which deliver decisively during my stay. Nonetheless my day here became one of my longest so far, with 7 separate stops and plenty of dubious drives down narrow roads to random places that I just had to see.

The type of day I just love.

Pirates & Surfers

“Come on Nina, you can do this”

I’m trying to motivate myself out of the sheer panic of having climbed down a ridiculously narrow path on a cliff in lashing rain to a unmarked prize. I got here because of a pirate story, which I can never resist, and ended up sliding on my *ss down the trail because….well….I’m terrified of heights, but determined and stubborn as a mule. Still I had to admit this felt adventurous and I basked in adrenalin when I finally found the hidden cave sealed behind a 60ft stone wall.

“This is soooooo coool” I shout, to no one but the wind

Culvers Hole was my first stop in Gower, a dovecote believed to have been built in the 13th or 14th century and steeped in smuggling lore. Some say it was just created for pigeons and eggs, but legend has it the powerful local pirate John Lucas used it as a storehouse in the 18th century and even created a secret tunnel big enough to ride a horse to the nearby Salt House. I’m partial to the second story of course, but either way they don’t mark the trail here, so only the most adventurous (or stupid) try to find it.

I guess that means I’m both?

When I make it back to town I’m soaked, so I buy a coffee and a pastie to warm up and chat to a local who tells me I’m lucky I hiked when I did.

“You should have checked the tides, love” he chides “They’re the biggest in the world here, you know. In spring surfers ride the bore up the Severn River for 10 miles. Don’t be hiking without knowing!”

I find out later that he was almost right. The tides aren’t quite the largest here (that prize goes to the Bay of Fundy in Canada), but they are impressive and can be as much as 50ft (15.4m) putting them in 2nd or 3rd place worldwide, depending on exactly which website you look at. And he was spot on about the bore. Apparently it is quite popular to watch surfers tackle it in Spring and Autumn when it hits 4 or 5* size.

What a cool event that would be to see!

Windy Worms, Castles and Stones

My second stop in Gower takes me out to Worms Head and Rhossili Bay, an island and beach on the western tip only accessible at low tide and (apparently) one of the most popular attractions on the peninsula.

When I get there the wind is blowing so hard I can barely stand up and it takes all my strength just to pull out my camera for a pic. Still, the view is staggering, a gorgeous cliff adjacent to a massive (enormous) beach where the sand seems to ripple like waves. There’s a single house on the opposite cliff and a few brave ant-people who look like they’re miserably hiking out there.

I walk the 1 mile across the cliff-top to the island getting blown sideways the whole way, decide not to cross (bad tide-timing, I checked!) and simply hike back. A short, beautiful outing, but absolutely exhausting against those gale-force winds. I buy a coffee and cake to replenish the bodily drain.

Any excuse for cake, really….

My last stops that day are 14th century Weobley Castle which is more of an old high-society home than an actual castle, and Arthurs Stone, another Neolithic burial chamber in the middle of nowhere.

The latter is a relic dating from 2500BC with a 25-tonne capstone which legend has it was a stone in King Arthurs shoe that he threw across the Loughor Estuary to Cefn Bryn, by which time it had grown to an enormous boulder. There’s obviously a wee smidgen of a date miss-match here (Arthur, a mythical figure in his own right, would have existed more around ~6th century) but the story is cool nonetheless.

I end the day at a very quiet Airbnb in Oxbridge Beach, too puckered out to do much except eat and sleep.

Mumbles At The Beach

The next morning I make a few final stops in Gower.

First up a last hike in Three Cliffs Bay, described as the most beautiful beach in Gower by a man who’d walked the entire coastal trail (which honestly, hats off to him). It ends up being a lovely final nature walk for me, down a steep trail to grassy dunes and a lovely bay. There’s even a motorhome park here (on the clifftop) which looks absolutely spectacular. Definitely a place I would stay.

From here I drive to Mumbles which is a cozy, medium-sized town known for it’s Victorian Pier, a very run-down 1794 lighthouse and Oystermouth Castle. I park at the far end of town and end up walking the entire bay, enjoying a coffee in a superbly bohemian café (Creoso Lounge) perusing the little high-street section and exploring the long historic pier at the end which advertises itself as “835 feet of fun”. It has an arcade and is touristy but quite cute, actually.

The Castle is my final visit, a lovely 12th century specimen with a very good orientation video. It’s dog-friendly too, which immediately warms me to it. I decide Mumbles is a cute little town with  a bit of everything.

As I finish my walk I people watch a bit, a favorite pastime of mine for many years. I spot a van playing hard rock in the parking lot, a young hippie couple living their dream on the road. I also see people out walking everywhere, and I can’t help but eavesdrop a bit as I walk past:

“Not once in our five years together have you taken me to the mall” I hear a middle-aged lady complain to her companion, close to tears “not once!”

I think about that comment for the next 20 minutes, wondering where modern relationships are headed in this world. Somehow I must be a rare case, or just an abnormality, but I simply can’t imagine that would ever become one of my woes. Not ever…

Cardiff, The Big City

Back to “real life”, big city life.

My final stop in Wales is Cardiff where I arrive to the most horrendous traffic I’ve seen this entire trip. There are people everywhere, cars backed up for miles, and the noise is an affront to the senses after so much time in the wilds. But it’s also bustling and exciting, with a multicultural city vibe that’s very appealing.

My hotel is called the Coal Exchange, an historic building from Cardiff’s significant coal roots. It’s magnificent and has piping so old you have to run the water in your room for 20 minutes just to get anything warm from the decrepit boiler downstairs. On the plus side my room has a spa bath. I’m definitely using that later….

I spend the rest of the day exploring this vast city, from it’s port area (which now hosts the dramatic Millennium football stadium) to the center of town by the castle. I learn that Cardiff was the biggest coal exporting port of its day, with over 11 million tons of coal shipped in 1913, at its peak. I also learn it was the port where Captain Scott launched his fateful expedition to Antarctica in 1910 on the Terra Nova. Interesting stuff.

By the time I reach the center of town it’s raining like the dogs.

I explore Cardiff Castle, a magnificent medieval castle with a Victorian Gothic revival mansion that has wonderfully ornate rooms. At the top of the old keep I take a selfie in the grey over the great city, a view that would be quite pretty on any other day. From here I walk the old town, discovering some lovely Victorian and Edwardian-era covered arcades, the likes of which I’ve never seen outside of Paris. And as darkness falls I escape the rain to a curry shop where I finally, blissfully get the curry dinner I’ve been dreaming of since I got to the UK. So good, so good….

Homeward Bound

My final days in the UK I leave Wales with a lump in my throat. I’ve had a good 10 days in the wild country and I feel sad to leave the red dragon behind. I manage a few more interesting stops on my way out however.

First up on my drive east I stop by a fabulous arboretum (Westonbirt National Arboretum, in Gloucestershire, England) where I enjoy a long walk and see the first colors of fall in all their glory. A sign of change and changing times which I find rather poignant. The grounds are (of course) impeccable and many folks are out enjoying them as I am. Not to be missed, English gardens…

From there I head to an overnight in the cute and historic town of Cirencester in the Cotswolds. It’s a great walking town famous for its Roman history and excellent cream teas (which of course, I partake of). The grounds of the largest amphitheater in Britain can be found here, built in 2nd century AD and rumored to have held 8000 people in its day. There’s not much left of it now except for the earth it stood on, but it’s still rather cool to stand there and imagine what once was. Plenty more to this place that I didn’t mange to see in the short time I was here.

The next day I pass by and visit an old friend (hi Andrew, if you’re reading this!) and then take the 4 hour ferry back to France. My trip is done!

It’s Been An Awesome Trip

There’s nothing that revives the soul like the company of old friends and the wilds of nature, and this trip encompassed both of those things.

Admittedly I knew little to nothing about Wales before I went, but I have to say the place blew me away both literally and figuratively. I’ve rarely seen such gorgeous coastline or explored so much in such a little area (so many interesting squiggly bits!). Over 400 castles, 870 miles of coastal trail and endless places to get lost. What’s not to like? It was both invigorating and exhausting and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Diolch to you, my Welsh friends. Here’s to when we meet again.