DAY 27

Saturday 18^th June, 2016                                                        

Tenby to Weston-Super-Mare                                                           Miles 268

Today has been the longest day of my journey so far.  Too long perhaps, though some of it, for only the second time on my trip, included motorway driving.  We travelled through beautiful countryside and both ugly industrial and ugly seaside areas.  We drove from one country into another.  The final 80 miles of the journey equated to only 8 miles by seagull flight! 

Our hotel overnight, at Lamphey, was excellent.  We enjoyed not only a good night’s sleep, but also an excellent dinner last night and good quality breakfast this morning.  For the rest of the day, we ate nothing but fruit.

Tenby Walls and Gateway

We had to pass through once again the lovely little town of Tenby.  This is certainly somewhere that I would like to come back to and spend more than just a few hours. 

Saundersfoot 

Just on from Tenby is Saundersfoot.  Small town, big beach. 

Wisemans Bridge Beach

 

A little way further on brought us to Wisemans Bridge beach where we saw this unusual sign warning that soft sand had been reported on this beach.  Usually you don’t feel concerned about soft sand, you welcome it.  It’s the best for making sand castles.  Perhaps they meant something as sublime as your wellies might get stuck in it, or, was it possibly a warning of quicksand?

We also found ourselves in danger of getting run over.  There was an endless stream of joggers, some on their own, some with dogs, some in twos and threes and one with her husband on a bicycle urging his wife on!  Clearly the beauty of this area encourages people to go out and get themselves beautiful also.

Pendine Sand

Our next target was the 7 mile beach at Pendine.  These sands have been the scene for numerous high speed car trials, and land speed records.  Malcolm Campbell in Bluebird was the first person to set a land speed record on these sands in 1924 when he reached 146 miles per hour.  Over the next three years this record was beaten four times; twice more by Campbell and twice by J.G.Parry-Thomas.  With a record of 174mph set by Campbell in February 1927, Parry-Thomas attempted to beat this one month later, but he crashed and was killed.  His car, Babs, was buried in the sands after the accident, but was excavated in 1969, and restored by 1985 and is displayed in the Museum of Speed at Pendine in the summer months.

In June 2000 Malcolm Campbell’s grandson, Don Wales, set the UK record for an electric car of 137mph.  In September 2013 the UK speed record for a bicycle being drafted behind a truck, was set by Guy Martin.

Laugharne castle

The eastern end of Pendine sands is Laugharne where we came across another wonderful castle.  This was built at the estuary of the River Taf in 1116.  It was involved in a number of skirmishes and changes of ownership. Perhaps its most important owner was Sir John Perrott who was given the castle by Elizabeth 1 in 1584. The interest here is that Perrott was allegedly an illegitimate son of Henry VIII so this was a gift to her half brother.  Once again the castle owners chose the wrong side in the English Civil War and Cromwell had it broken up.  The famous Welsh author Dylan Thomas apparently loved this area and frequently visited the village and is said to have penned his novel “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog” while working in the castle.

We now moved on, skirting the industrial areas of Llanelli and Gorseinon and on to the Gower Peninsula.  Again we drove through very narrow lanes with tall hedgerows blocking the view.  We first stopped at Llanmadoc right at the far end of the Peninsula.  There were a number of caravan sites here.  I have no idea how anyone could drive a car and caravan down these very narrow lanes.  You would almost need someone to go on ahead and stop any oncoming traffic, as there could be no possibility of reversing.  If two caravans meet head on, how do they get out of the jam?

These small camp sites are unobtrusive and clearly provide a good service to the traveller.  What is a blot on the landscape are the numerous static caravan and chalets parks.  This is not just an eyesore in Wales, but all around the country.  I can understand councils seeing these places as a way to boost local tax revenue and I am sure that they create a few seasonal jobs in the area and the shopkeepers welcome them (and often the council members are local shopkeepers anyway) but they are contrary to why many people come to the area.  Have places for people to stay by all means, but don’t allow them to be placed right alongside a lovely beach or up the sides of a prominent hill.  This detracts from the beauty of the place. 

At the end of the war, when Butlins started up, the Holiday Camp provided working people with holidays beside the sea at a price they could afford and people greatly benefited from this.  Today, from having reviewed prices at one or two caravan/chalet sites, I can confirm that they are certainly not cheaper than many local B&Bs or houses to let.  I think people go to these places in the mistaken belief that they are the cheapest option and don’t check out other choices.  I once had an investor in a company I was involved with tell me that his income was so substantial, from just the one large caravan park he owned on the south coast, that he was now was fully occupied with determining how to invest the income. He was quite open about how much money there is in caravan parks.  Once the caravan/chalet sites are in place they form a new village and so they are accompanied by other “tourist services” such as shops, cafes and in many places, funfairs and bingo halls.  They of course bring large quantities of people together at the same time and in the same place and this of itself often over burdens the local area. 

Some of these places, such as the one in Exmouth, are built out of site of the town and fulfill their function without detracting from the beauty of the area.  Others, like at Porthcawl in South Wales and Ingoldmells in Lincolnshire are so dominant that any beauty of the coastline is completely spoiled and the areas can only be described as ugly.

 

Rhossili

We continued on further narrow lanes (I think Samantha was determined to give us a hard day) and eventually reached Rhossili.  This is a charming cliff top and beach owned by the National Trust.  With my Scottish NT membership we entered the car park, a large field that was absolutely packed with cars.  This is obviously the place everyone wants to come to.  There were a lot of Japanese tourists here taking pictures with cameras on selfie sticks. 

After making a cup of tea and eating some fruit for lunch we drove back along the lanes and on to Port Eynon.  In the churchyard, right by the road, is a distinctive memorial to three lifeboat men who lost their lives during a rescue in 1916, when the lifeboat twice capsized while trying to assist a vessel in distress.  It seems as if you cannot travel anywhere on the British coastline, tiny village or large town, without seeing an RNLI station.  This memorial in this tiny village in West Wales is a good reminder of the fact that these men and women, all volunteers, put their lives in danger to save others.  They will go out onto a stormy ocean in terrible weather to save the lives of boaters that the same bad weather has already brought into peril.

 

RNLI Memorial at Port Cynon

Not too far away was the little village of Oxwich where there was a nice sandy beach and yet another ruined castle.

 

Oxwich Castle

We drove around the Mumbles and continued along the coast until we came to the city of Swansea.  This is where the prettiness and tidiness stopped.  Whereas the Pembroke Coast and the Gower Peninsula looked cared for and were clean and tidy, for the next 30 miles we saw nothing on the coast that was attractive and the places were decidedly scruffy.  Rubbish on the sides of the roads was very evident. Bob my native Welshman who grew up not too far from here described these areas as being in sharp contrast to the prettiness of the countryside that we had been driving through. 

Port Talbot, further on from Swansea, is dominated by the large steel works and it must be a very difficult at this time for the people working there and living in the area, as Tata, who own the steelworks, are seeking to sell it.  The cost of making steel in the UK is too expensive in relation to steel from China, which is effectively being dumped on the markets.  At this time no buyer has come forward.

 

Porthcawl

We continued on and drove into both Porthcawl and Barry Island.  The sea looked uninviting and so did the towns.  Here there was an enormous caravan park and funfare that dominated the town as you drove in.  I remember coming here as a child on Sunday School trip and playing on the sands.  I could not see any beach today, only black rocks.  No doubt the sand is part of the chalet/caravan park.  I certainly would not want to take Sunday School children today to Porthcawl.

 

Barry Island

The next area is called the Glamorgan Heritage Coast, with the main town being Llantwit Major.  Again, in comparison with the Mumbles and the Gower coast lines, this seemed to have little to offer by way of coming here for a vacation.

Many years ago on a Bank Holiday Monday, when I was about 19, four of us took a day out and drove to Barry Island as we had heard that it was a exciting place to visit. We parked our car in the main car park and went into the funfare.  We were quickly disillusioned and felt that it was an untidy and not very inviting place, so we decided to drive somewhere else.  We returned to the car only to be stopped along, with other cars by a policeman who stood in the exit, blocking cars from leaving. We waited and waited, but he would not leave. In the end after about 15 minutes, myself and 2 or 3 other drivers went and spoke to him and asked could we please be let out.  He said that his sergeant had told him to stand there and not let anyone out until the traffic on the road had reduced.  He was waiting for his sergeant to come back and tell him we could go.  He would not budge and kept saying he had to wait for his sergeant.  After almost an hour of increasing frustration with PC Ivor Nobrain we and 2 other drivers decided to declare UDI and take the law into our own hands and just ignore him and drive out.  Unfortunately the driver at the head of the queue was less bold and would not drive out.  It took us about 10 minutes to persuade him to back–up and move his car so that we could go for it.  Eventually we maneuvered him out of the way and we and three other cars blew our horns and drove past the Policeman. He put his hand up to tell us to stop, but we ignored him and continued forward.  He moved out of the way and we drove out. The traffic on the road gave way to us and then we were followed by most of the other cars in the car park.  I’m not sure what this constable said to his sergeant by way of explanation as to why the car park was empty, I never heard.  We also never heard anything further about having committed any traffic violation.  Anyway, Bob and I decided not to park and find out if this same policeman was still in duty in Barry.  We decided that Barry Island is just one big and gaudy funfare.  It was still busy, so clearly some people enjoy it, but it was definitely not to our taste.  Barry of course featured in the successful comedy TV program Gavin & Stacey, Stacey being from Barry and Gavin from Essex.  The obvious similarities of Barry and Southend are therefore quite tru.

 

Penarth Pier

Bob took me about two miles further on to Penarth, which is just around the point from Barry.  Though close by Penarth is the complete opposite of Barry.  It is smart and clean, without rubbish in evidence.  Here houses were still houses and not turned into doughnut or fish and chip shops.  Though close together they clearly serve different markets. At one time Penarth was an “overflow’ dock for Cardiff and coal was loaded and shipped from here.  Bob told me that there is a pedestrian tunnel under Cardiff Bay that allowed dock-workers to come back and forth between the two docks.  It is now boarded up and not used and apparently not many know of its existence.

Cardiff is a modern day success story having reinvented itself from the downturn and demise of the coal industry and the decline of its docks.  It is now a tremendous commercial and cultural success story.  It is an example to many other places in Britain as to what can happen if industry changes.  This obviously did not happen overnight, but the energy and determination of the local people and council to attract investments and new businesses and rebirth the city has certainly paid off.  There are similar success stories around the UK, such as Portsmouth and Newcastle, but there are also places that have yet to make the decision that change is necessary.

From Cardiff I left the water (which was now estuary rather than truly coastal) and we took the M4 and headed for Bristol and a train for Bob back to Wargrave. This meant going over the “new” Severn Bridge, which crosses the River Severn and is built less than a mile from the “old” Severn Bridge, again demonstrating the commercial significance and growth of Cardiff and South Wales.  There are no tolls on this bridge if travelling from west to east.  It’s free to leave Wales, but you have to pay to go in.

 

Houses at Portishead

I said goodbye to Bob at Bristol Parkway, backtracked down the M4 and onto the southbound M5, leaving this after the Avon bridge and driving into Portishead.  I must admit that I had not been to Portishead before but was genuinely impressed.  It is another place that has had a rebirth, centred on the old docks.  It is almost a complete new town that appears to have been designed and built almost as if it were an “old” town. It has a village green. Different styles and colours of houses and around the docks, which are full of modern yachts and power boats, there are new architecturally attractive blocks of flats (condos).  The area seemed to be thriving with young professionals and their families enjoying the marina. 

Portishead Marina

From Portishead I followed the coastal roads to Clevedon, where I stopped for dinner.  Clevedon was a popular resort in times past before the railway came.  Unfortunately the town council decided that they did not want dirty trains coming into Clevedon and refused to allow access to the railway companies.  These in turn built a railway link to Weston Super Mare and Clevedon declined almost overnight as a holiday destination.  It is now basically a dormitory town for both Weston and Bristol.

My room was booked (at the last minute) at a hotel in Weston on the sea front right by the RNLI station.  It turned out to be a hotel whose clientele are almost exclusively pensioners on coach tours.  The hotel staff were pleasant and helpful, especially Olla the receptionist from Poland who gave me her parking place.  However, though clean and functional and with a sea view, my bedroom was the smallest one I have ever stayed in.  I measured it at 8 feet by 15 feet!  WiFi was non-existent in the bedrooms and I had to sit in the TV room to get any signal, hence once again this blog is late in being posted.  At breakfast in the morning I sat at a table that had a notice on it which said that “this table is required for breakfast service from 8.20am”.  As it was 7.45am I sat there.  The waitress asked me for my room number and I was then told that I could not sit there as my table was somewhere else.  I can’t understand why they would have such an irritating policy.  Perhaps coach parties need to have their lives controlled in such a way and can’t be left to make independent decisions about where to sit and eat their breakfast..  Anyway this independent, non coach party customer certainly felt that this was a stupid rule.  I ate my (actually very good) breakfast and then left.  My original table remained empty the whole time.  Clearly the hotel management know how to let guests leave without a smile on their face and with a determination not to stay there again.

Tomorrow I enter Cornwall and will be joined by another good friend Pete, who was also from Wargrave, but now lives in Cornwall.