Visiting Gower... again and again...

Whiteford Point's unusual cast-iron lighthouse can only be reached at low tide

Our first-ever mini break as a couple was a two-day hike from Rhossili, Gower to Mumbles, with an overnight stay at Oxwich. It therefore seems fitting that, six years later, Harri and I have just completed his third walking guidebook on this beautiful Welsh peninsula.

This latest book was by far the quickest to complete in walking terms. Top Ten Walks: Carmarthen Bay and Gower Peninsula was an absolute pleasure to research and easy to walk (the longest walk is just six and a half miles).

Picturesque Pwlldu Bay on the south Gower coast

The scenery on what Harri describes as ‘a small but priceless gem’ is stunning and astonishingly varied. In the introduction to his first Gower book (awaiting publication by Northern Eye Books), he expands, ‘Here are hidden coves and glorious sandy beaches, high cliffs and windswept downs, dunes, marshland, wooded valleys and picturesque villages. Almost every path on Gower opens up a new and rewarding perspective, a different aspect of the peninsula’s varied landscape.'

And he's absolutely right. In the twenty-first century, Gower remains astonishingly unspoilt, in large due to the long-time commitment and determination of the Gower Society, whose mission statement proclaims (or perhaps warns) it's ‘Guarding Gower for all its worth’.

The registered charity was founded way back in 1947. I won’t list all its aims here, just what I consider the most relevant ones:

• to encourage an appreciation and love of Gower
• to preserve its character and antiquities, and to oppose any threat to its amenities.

Harri, deep in thought on Rhossili Downs

No-one could dispute the Society's success in preserving Gower's natural landscape, despite what they claim was an unfair portrayal of members as 'the bad guys' in the 2012 BBC 2 mini series, Gower.

True, there has been substantial house building in villages like Llangennith, but on the whole the peninsula remains as wild and unspoilt as it was back in the 1940s, which is quite amazing when you consider its appeal and proximity to Wales’ third largest city, Swansea.

The Gower Society gets full marks for preserving what makes this little peninsula (the winding roads are deceiving – Gower is barely more than 15 miles (24 km) long and seven miles (11km) wide) so special - its incredible natural beauty. 

On that first weekend back in 2007, Harri and I booked into a small bed and breakfast in Oxwich, where the dour-faced proprietor was clearly a graduate from the Basil Fawlty School of Customer Service (either that or she disapproved of our obvious age difference). Despite its popularity, Oxwich, with its population of under 200, boasts just one eaterie, the Oxwich Bay Hotel.  When we showed up, on a Saturday night in June, without a prior booking, it was bursting at the seams. Seeing the dismay on our faces (surely our rumbling tummies weren't that loud?), a kind-hearted staff member (presumably a protégée of Sybil rather than Basil) said we could eat at a table in reception if we didn't mind. We assured him we didn't!

Since that first weekend, we’ve returned to the Gower many times. One memorable place we stayed was The Slope, in Middleton. This tiny space was originally built as a summer dwelling for the owners to move into during the summer when they let their neighbouring (and much larger) home out to holiday-makers. A local tenant farmer, Jack Gibbs, built The Slope in the early 1900s using cliff limestone, handmade bricks and some beach-combed timber. Sadly, he died in World War 1.

The Slope - small but perfectly formed

The building was converted into self-catering accommodation by the present owners in 1994 and the result is delightful. The ground floor combines a kitchen and diningroom and there's a shower/toilet cubicle concealed in an under-stairs cupboards. Upstairs, the open plan bedroom, with its television and comfy chairs, doubles as a sitting room. The Slope is small but perfectly formed; we stayed for four nights and would happily have moved in permanently. 

On another trip we stayed at Greenbank Cottage, Reynoldston, a B & B where the friendly owners have come up with the most brilliant and practical of ideas. Being hikers themselves, they understand how frustrating it is to have an early start thwarted by a slow-to-arrive cooked breakfast. Their solution? To provide a basketful of warm rolls and croissants outside your private French doors at an agreed time. And in case you get the 'nibbles' in the night, there is an assortment of biscuits and other snacks provided (there's a table and chairs and also a very useful fridge). 

Their simple idea means guests can set off as early as they wish (with some nice fresh rolls for lunch!). Other B & B owners, please take note.

There's something quite magical about a beach at low tide

Of course, not all our overnight stays have been so idyllically located. Soaring fuel costs have forced us to look for cheaper accommodation, like the Swansea Travelodge just off the M4 (there's no breakfast but the rooms are clean and spacious and the reception staff are always wonderfully friendly and helpful (more input from Sybil Fawlty perhaps?).

So with Harri’s third Gower book done and dusted, we no longer have our bona fide, i.e. work-related, reason to wander alongside wild ponies grazing peacefully on the salt marsh and mudflats of the north Gower coast or to get wet feet walking to Whiteford Point at low tide. 

There's no pressing need to climb the long, high ridge of Cefn Bryn, struggle against the wind to reach the 193-metre summit of Rhossili Down or to photograph Gower’s amazing views.

There are no longer any work-related reasons to visit Gower, just spiritual ones. 

A friendly local on Harding's Down

Top Ten Walks: Carmarthen Bay and Gower Peninsula by Harri Roberts will be published by Northern Eye Books later this year.

                                                                                       

Birds of a feather

Low tide at Rhossili with Worm's Head in the distance

So Rhossili has been awarded third place in a list of best European beaches.

In a survey of worldwide tourists by TripAdvisor the windswept Welsh beach, popular with families and dog walkers alike, was beaten only by Rabbit Beach at Lampedusa, Sicily, and Playa de las Catedrales in Ribadeo, Galicia, Spain.

In the unlikely event that any reader hasn’t visited Rhossili, this magnificent three-mile stretch of sand lies on the tip of the Gower peninsula.

Thousands visit Rhossili annually to stroll along the beach, surf its waves and splash around in the sea.  As a tourist destination, Rhossili offers everything: miles of white sand, (at low tide) several shipwrecks, a public house, cafes, a National Trust shop, toilets, two small tidal islands and, most important, a large car park.

Two miles to the north, and tucked just behind Burry Holms, lies an equally beguiling stretch of sand but here the similarity ends. 

Whiteford Sands is largely ignored by the crowds

Unlike its buzzing, tourist-friendly, cash-grabbing neighbour, Whiteford Sands has no amenities and requires a ten minute walk from the nearest car park at Llanmadoc. 

Wild ponies graze the mud flats near Whiteford Sands

Our preferred route around Whiteford Point takes a good deal longer but passes some of the Gower’s most contrasting scenery and provides plenty of photographic opportunities, e.g. wild ponies grazing on the mud flats.

Now Rhossili has been crowned one of the top European beaches it’s likely to encourage even greater numbers to explore its attractions, leaving the peace and tranquility of Whiteford Sands to the locals and ‘those in the know’.

It’s the same story in the Brecon Beacons. The National Park's own website claims it is visited annually by ‘some 3.8 million people who spend around 4.2 million days there’.

So are the mountains thronging with hikers, trekking in convoy over the ridges?  The mere thought makes me chuckle.

Last spring and summer, Harri and I completed over 20 walks for inclusion in Harri’s forthcoming book on the Brecon Beacons for Vertebrate Publishing. 

Most days we saw hardly saw anyone at all, except when we ventured into villages and towns. Occasionally, we might pass a couple of hikers, or even more rarely, a small group of walkers, but more often we had great expanses of Welsh mountain all to ourselves. 

The truth is that the only places in the Brecon Beacons where you can reasonably expect to encounter large groups of walkers are on the well-walked trails leading to the twin peaks of Pen y Fan and Corn Du and in the popular waterfalls area at Ystradfellte. Hike anywhere else in the Brecon Beacons and it’s quite possible, and very probable on drizzly, grey days, that you’ll not pass another person all day. 

That’s right. No-one. Anywhere. There are more sheep than people in this part of Wales. 

I recall watching a television programme several years ago which rated the ‘must-see’ places in the world. No prizes for guessing which large American gorge came top of the list. Tourist after tourist gushed over the Grand Canyon – almost to a person describing it as ‘awesome’ – though few had done much more than gaze across the mile-wide chasm before turning their attention to the man-made attractions which line the cliff top.

Bryce Canyon, Utah with not a cafe or shop in sight

A few months later, we were there ourselves, having first visited the rather more accessible and equally stunning (if far less frequently raved about) Zion and Bryce Canyons in Southern Utah.

‘There’s only so much red rock you can look at,’ Alanna pronounced, at eight clearly unimpressed by this geological monster of nature.

Flicking through an old guidebook recently, I read that almost all visitors to the Grand Canyon visit the South Rim (the hotels, cafes, gift shops, 3D cinemas, etc, are located here) where they spend just 40 minutes of their two-three hour visit looking at the canyon. North Rim is apparently just too far off the beaten track for the majority.

It’s exactly the same story in Madeira, where coach loads of tourists flock to Monte for the toboggan run or to Rabaçal for the waterfalls. Not that either of these places isn't beautiful and well worth seeing, of course, but so is the magnificent and largely deserted high plateau of the Paul do Serra. 

St Ives: the most visited resort in Cornwall

In Cornwall, the big draw is St Ives, where on a rainy day in August, we were hard-pushed to find standing room in a pub. 

In Pembrokeshire, it's St David's that attracts the madding crowds (Harri will never forgive me for having to queue twice in a heaving beer garden for two halves of cider because, as I maintain, ladies don't drink pints!). 

Everyone, it seems, flocks to the same places for no reason other than these are the places that people flock. In our hundreds, we swarm into the pubs, cafes and gift shops that spring up in response to demand, though in some instances the natural landscape is so inaccessible, the commercial landscape now appears to be the main attraction, e.g. Cheddar Gorge, Tintagel. 

It often makes me wonder if humans really are birds of a feather… or just sheep?

 Birds... or just sheep? 

Day 8 - And so it ends - Three Cliffs Bay to Swansea marina

A mammoth bench overlooks Three Cliffs Bay

Our last day of coast path walking this year.

Whenever my spirits plummet, Harri assures me ‘we’ll be back’ – he’s right, of course, because one of the bonuses of being commissioned to write an official Wales Coast Path guidebook is that you also get to devise the accompanying Top 10 Walks book. So, one way or the other, we’ll be back in Carmarthenshire/Gower before the winter’s over.

Harri’s stretch of the path ends at Swansea marina which posed us with the problem of where to park. Parking for anything up to ten hours is never cheap, but was likely to be even more expensive in a city centre.

Harri’s solution was to park midway along the Swansea seafront, catch a bus back to Pennard then walk past our car to complete the final three miles to the marina. There was one drawback – unless we wanted to pay two astronomical bus fares in one day, we’d have to walk back again.

While we were waiting for our bus, Harri spotted a car driver having a quick shave while he waited in rush hour traffic. I’m not sure if this is legal or not – the car wasn’t actually moving at the time - but can you really be paying due attention to the traffic when you’ve got an electric shaver pressed to your cheek? I'm not sure.

Enjoying the sunshine without a care in the world 

At Pennard, the stroll to rejoin the official path at Three Cliffs Bay was infinitely more enjoyable than it was the previous evening when we’d been tired and hungry.  The ever-present cows roamed contentedly around the golf course, completely uninterested in any human comings and goings.

There’s always something bitter-sweet about your last day anywhere and knowing we were gradually edging our way towards urbanisation didn’t help.

As we walked past the beautiful houses of Pennard, Harri spotted his former Masters lecturer, now semi-retired, and we slowed down for a catch-up. After we’d said our goodbyes, I sat on the grass while Harri went off looking for the poet Vernon Watkins’memorial stone at Hunt’s Bay below. Watkins, who died in 1967, was a lifelong friend of Dylan Thomas and the stone is inscribed with two lines from his poem ‘Talieson in Gower’: 'I have been taught the script of stones, and I know the tongue of the wave'.

Unfortunately, like others before him, Harri was unable to locate the stone, leading him to believe that it’s been subsumed by vegetation over the years. 

Explore the beautiful Bishopston valley behind Pwlldu

At Pwlldu, Harri took his final dip of the week and I dipped my toes in at the water’s edge. Higher up the beach, I leaned I closed my eyes and lifted my face, relishing the warm sun on my skin and trying hard to create sensory memories to sustain me throughout the winter months. There’s something magical about the sea; I don’t think I could cope with living in a land-locked country. I seem to remember reading that Bill Bryson was almost an adult before he had his first glimpse of the ocean but then the States is a lot bigger than little old Britain. Newport’s not the most scenic of cities (oops, nearly wrote town there!) but its location is ideal for travelling to the coast.

We continued on our way, eventually reaching the tarmac path that hugs the coastline from Caswell to Langland and beyond. Both are undeniably pretty places but they lack the rugged splendour of Rhossili, Broughton and Oxwich. I sensed I was dragging my feet as the Mumbles headland came into view – around that corner sprawled Swansea, its manmade landscape, its crowds, its queues of traffic. All too soon we were returning to civilisation – how I longed to turn and retrace our steps back to Rhossili.

Looking down at Caswell Bay 

Trying to stay positive, we upped our pace, reasoning that the faster we walked, the sooner we’d be finished. It was late afternoon and we still had the full sweep of Swansea Bay ahead of us, plus a nasty little sting in the tail – that return walk back to the car. At least I wasn’t running it, I consoled myself, remembering how ill-prepared (and over-dressed) I was for the Swansea 10k in 2010. 

As we neared the car park, Harri gave me the option of stopping but I knew we’d be sorry if we did;  aborting the walk with just three miles or so to go would have presented us with future problems. No, I insisted bravely, we’ll walk to Swansea marina as planned (Harri later admitted that he'd been half-hoping I'd insist on stopping!).

The boat park at the Mumbles

I’d forgotten that the docklands area of Swansea has been expanding rapidly in past years; the reality of walking to the marina meant passing block after concrete block of shiny new apartments with their bare, unloved verandahs, all crying out for some TLC. I’m at a loss to understand why anyone would want to live in one of these modern tower blocks when they could buy or rent a terraced house with a nice little garden for less, but each to his own I suppose.

By the time we finally reached the marina, my feet were in a sorry state and I was somewhat regretting my earlier magnanimity. It was, however, a beautiful evening and a cunning plan was forming in my mind.

So that’s how we ended five days and almost one hundred miles of coast path walking – sitting on a bench overlooking Swansea Bay, with a bottle of Sainsburys’ best dry cider and a large packet of Tyrells (definitely the best crisps ever) and (me) getting my hand kissed by a (drunken) stranger.

All in all, a very decadent end to a hard week's hiking.

We finally reached Swansea marina at twilight

Day 7 - Beach Bypass - Rhossili to Three Cliffs Bay

Romance is alive and kicking at Three Cliffs Bay

I knew I’d be complaining about bus fares before long.  Today, our bus driver’s embarrassment was all too apparent. A single fare from The Gower Inn, Parkmill to Rhossili was £4.30 each, he told us, so why not pay the extra 20p for unlimited travel all day? £4.50 per person and we could travel from Swansea to Rhossili all day long if we so wished.

Unfortunately, coast path hiking is a strictly one-way business and a single bus journey is all that is required; we had no choice but to count out the disgraceful £8.60 fare.

Still, not every business is as money-grabbing as First Cymru; the assistant manager at The Gower Inn very kindly allowed us to park at the rear of their car park free of charge. Nice pub, good value food, friendly staff.

More Swiss Alps than Wales Coast Path?

It was still a bit hazy when we arrived at Rhossili but there was a certain amount of excitement in the air. A lone dolphin had been spotted close to the beach and was attracting a lot of attention from visitors. Yesterday, we’d spotted a small, dead porpoise (at least we think it was a porpoise) on the beach so presumably dolphins are regular visitors to these waters.

Thankfully, Rhossili has remained relatively uncommercialised. The hotel, few cafes and shops are generally unobtrusive and, unlike Land’s End in Cornwall, the Welsh headland is blissfully free of highly-priced ‘attractions’. 

I presume this is because Rhossili is owned by the National Trust rather than a private owner who can sell it to whoever he chooses at whim. Long may this state of affairs continue.

It was just as busy this morning as yesterday afternoon but once we’d passed the coastguard hut opposite Worm’s Head the crowds disappeared and we pretty much had the coast to ourselves for the next few hours.

The coast is far more rugged from Rhossili onwards, with high cliffs and lots of rocky inlets, which sometimes involve a steep descent followed by an even steeper ascent (okay, I know that’s unlikely, but the uphills always feel tougher to me).

Culver Hole is well worth a detour

Harri climbed down to Culver Hole sea cave but my footwear – well-worn Brasher sandals – wasn’t really ideal for rock climbing so I was content to wait at the top. Culver Hole is owned and maintained by the National Trust and featured on BBC’s Coast programme a couple of years ago. It’s well worth seeing if your footwear is up to the vertiginous and difficult climb down.

The big beaches on today’s itinerary were the iconic Oxwich and Port Eynon, beaches I’ve visited many times with my children and walked on previous Gower expeditions.

Why wasn't I surprised that the official Wales Coast Path directs walkers around the back of both. So mind-boggling are the constant detours around some of Wales’ best beaches, that I’ve just checked the Countryside Council for Wales website to see what criteria were used to determine the official path.

The website states that the path is ‘as near to the coast as legally and physically practicable, whilst fully taking into account the needs of health and safety, land management and conservation’.

I'm still none the wiser. I understand the need for conservation, but presumably a beach that attracts thousands of holidaymakers, local people and dog walkers every week isn't going to be adversely affected by a small cohort of Wales Coast Path hikers. One thing Harri and I can vouch for, is that with a few notable exceptions (Snowdon, St David's, Cader Idris, Pen y Fan), Wales really isn't in danger of being overrun with hikers any day soon. 

However... Harri is writing the official guide so the official path we followed, even if it mean missing almost the whole length of Oxwich beach in favour of the burrows behind (which are very pleasant but have no sea views). An exciting new addition to the landscape is a smashing little footbridge across the pill between Oxwich and Nicholston Burrows - there's even a sea view at this point though not for long. Soon we were heading inland, on a steep, sandy path running between trees.

A welcome addition to Gower's gorgeous coastline

And here I must raise the question of accessibility. I know, of course I do, that a coast path can never be completely accessible. People with mobility problems, those in wheelchairs, families with pushchairs - I'm sure they understand that, even with the best will in the world, there will be natural landscapes which remain inaccessible to them.  

What I cannot accept is an official footpath that’s almost completely inaccessible to everyone – and I include the super-fit Harri Roberts. 

In the midst of Nicholston Woods, there were several instances where we were literally scrambling up sand dunes with overgrown vegetation, including brambles, attacking us from either side. At one sandy ‘crossroads’ there was no signposting at all and we had no idea which path to take. This lack of signage could, of course, be down to sabotage as we had earlier spotted several official signs with graffiti scribbled on them. Still, it was extremely frustrating, especially as there wasn't a beach or wave anywhere to be seen to lift our flagging spirits.


We had planned to walk to Pennard today but hobbling across Three Cliffs Day, we decided to call it a day and head inland instead, past the spectacular ruins of Pennard Castle. 

Scrambling through the burrows
behind Oxwich

We were descending through more woods into Parkmill at around 7.15pm, when a couple approached us and asked us how long it would take to walk to the beach.  Given the distance, the terrain and the fast-disappearing daylight, we were incredulous. It was clear these two weren't hikers - not feet-aching, armpit-smelling, stomach-rumbling, cider-longing hikers, definitely not official Wales Coast Path hikers like Harri and me.

Day 6 - More bog than blog - Llanridian to Rhossili

The majestic Rhossili Bay with Worm's Head in the distance 

The full splendour of the Wales Coast Path was finally revealed today, no doubt helped by the glorious autumn weather.

With the lure of the open sea and the majestic Rhossili Bay later on, it wasn’t difficult to believe that Harri has landed one of the best jobs in the world.

A concrete path weaves its way around the coastline for several miles from Llanridian and, from the amount of dead crabs scattered in the grass alongside it, we deduced that a recent tide had been particularly high.

Gower's coastal landscape is richly varied

Fortunately, there was no sign of sea water as we made our way past the spectacular Cwm Ivy and North Hill Tors and through the dunes around Broughton Bay. The beach, though stunningly beautiful, is unsuitable for swimming due to the strong tides at the mouth of the Loughor estuary so Harri resigned himself to waiting until we reached the magnificent Rhossili beach for his daily dip.

While he enjoyed splashing around in the sea, I paddled in nearby rock pools, amused by the antics of two dogs who were running in and out of the largest pool and seemed to be having even more fun than Harri. Bbbrrr! I get cold just looking at him.

I’m always astounded at the iciness of the sea around Wales, actually around the UK generally. Years ago, when I lived on the Isles of Scilly and had a beach on my doorstep (literally), I found the best time to go for a swim was after my evening shift as a silver-service waitress. The sea always felt much warmer at that time of day and there was the added incentive of a brandy and babycham in The Atlantic Hotel afterwards – lethal for the legs but definitely one to warm the rest of the body. Does anyone even drink it these days?

Boardwalks - my favourite terrain 

But I digress. At Broughton Bay, we were unsurprised when the official route took us high above the beach and along the edge of Rhossili Down – the views across to Worm’s Head were superb but, even so, I longed for the feel of that fine, white sand between my toes. There's just not enough beach walking on the official coast path - it would be interesting to know the rationale behind some of the more baffling route decisions.

From Rhossili, Worm’s Head looks deceptively close and it’s not unusual for people to underestimate the time needed to walk there and back across the rocky causeway and end up stranded there, Dylan Thomas apparently one of them.  Fortunately, there are now volunteer coastguards who display each day’s ‘safe to cross’ times prominently so there’s really no excuse anymore for cutting it too fine and having to call out the emergency services.

We reached the village of Rhossili in plenty of time for the bus to Reynoldston and killed some time in the National Trust shop. Not for the first time, we mused on how we can walk for hours and barely see a soul then arrive in a popular tourist spot and find ourselves in the middle of a throng. It was exactly the same on the Pembrokeshire Coast Path when it seemed like all Pembrokeshire’s tourists congregated in and around St David’s and Tenby.

There isn’t a bus from Rhossili to Llanrhidian so Harri’s plan to get off at Reynoldston and walk the short distance over Cefn Bryn seemed sensible. At this point alarm bells should have been sounding in my head, but lulled by the warm sunshine, stunning scenery and the promise of another cider at the Dolphin Inn, I agreed enthusiastically.  Reynoldston is one of those sleepy, affluent Gower communities that I never tire of visiting.

A few years ago, in nearby Burry, we experienced one of the most imaginative bed and breakfast arrangements at Green Bank Cottage. This is a place that understands hikers! Instead of the usual unwanted cooked breakfast (as well as being problematic in terms of slowing us down, catching buses, etc. a big breakfast makes us feel sluggish for hours), the wonderful hosts at Green Bank provide a fridge and nibbles in the room and leave a continental breakfast (with hot croissants and rolls) outside your room at an agreed time. Perfect! Other bed and breakfast owners please take note.

Anyway, the day seemed to be going well. All was idyllic on the short, early evening walk to the top of Cefn Bryn. Below us, in Reynoldston, sheep grazed contentedly on the village green and cows predictably gathered around road side signs; we climbed the backbone of Gower on a wide grassy path, barely raising a glance from the wild horses which roam the slopes, foals at their side.

Having a scratch - wild horses mingle with
walkers above Rhossili

I didn’t think anything was amiss until I noticed Harri looking anxiously at the map – this is a sight so far that it should immediately alert me that something is wrong. His verdict? While the path under our feet was wide and distinct, it wasn’t taking us in the right direction and, unless we veered downhill towards the treeline, we most definitely would not end up in Llanrhidian.

There was just one teeny, weeny problem, i.e. what lay between us and the treeline. It was then that I experienced that awful feeling of deja vue – hadn’t we been here before, on this very hillside, facing the very same problem? That problem being how to traverse a bog without a boat/thigh waders/water skis or very long legs? Given that my available accessories were shorts and sandals and very short legs, I instinctively knew this was not going to be pleasant!

Now readers of this blog will know that I’m not too keen on mud or very cold water. Mix the two together and you get icy cold runny mud – my idea of hell on earth! After lots of prevarication (for some reason, Harri prefers to call it 'whingeing'), during which I struggled to think of some solution which didn’t involve holy intervention or a helicopter, I finally accepted I had no choice but to wade through the filthy, revolting bog. And so began one of the most unpleasant experiences of my hiking life.

Just when I’d think it couldn’t get any worse, Harri would study the map again, shake his head and announce that we had to retrace our watery steps and attempt another ‘route’.

After half an hour’s desperate floundering, we finally made some headway and managed to fight our way through to a farmyard – only to have several barking dogs come running at us. Fortunately, their friendly owner came rushing out to assure us their barks were louder than their bites.

Determined to have our cider come what may, we ‘cleaned up’ our filthy, scratched legs on a pavement a few yards from where a man was mowing his lawn. He didn't seem too bemused by our antics so I'm guessing getting stuck in the local bog must be a regular occurrence in these parts.

A few days later, Harri stumbled upon a news story about a woman who’d got stuck on Cefn Bryn last year and had to call the emergency services out to pull her out.  Lucky escape or not,  Harri knows he’s not heard the last of today's misadventure! 

High above Rhossili beach are spectacular 360 degree views