Day 84: Nash Point to Porthcawl

Armed with my new winter sleeping bag, effective down to -17C, this week’s plan is to sleep under a roof in Porthcawl and Swansea, and then camp for two nights on the Gower Peninsula, the first area in the UK to be designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

The bus drops me off at Marcross. It’s cold, but the sun is shining; a perfect start. After traversing a couple of valleys (or cwms), accompanied by the clanging of the bell in a sea buoy, I reach the magnificent Blue Lias rocks at Whitmore Stairs.

Unfortunately, my plastic Ground Anchor tent pegs, a contingency for strong winds, have pierced holes in the mesh pocket of my backpack; another rookie error. Time to break out the gaffa tape. It’s not the most elegant job, looking more like a mathematical formula.

Dunraven Bay is too tempting to resist, with a series of large flat rocks, knows as the Dancing Stones. A little slippery for that, unless you have four legs.

It’s not far to Ogmore-by-Sea, where the path turns inland, following the Ogmore River. Hardy fisherman brave the wind on the shingle beach.

The walk along the slopes of Ogmore Down provides lovely views across the river and valley.

There are stepping stones across the river at Ogmore Castle. A ghost, Y Ladi Wen (the White Lady), is said to guard the castle’s hidden treasure. There is a related tradition that the river contains the spirits of those who died without disclosing the location of hidden treasures. These spirits may only rest when their treasures are found and thrown downstream into the river; another incentive to explore the crossing.

Sadly, the stepping stones are not passable without taking my boots off and rolling up my trousers. There is no sign of any treasure.

I backtrack and take a path above the valley road. It’s hard going, along a narrow, deep, muddy ditch for horses, but eventually brings me out at a pretty bridge.

Having crossed the river, there is a country lane, winding back to the coast. Approaching Ton Farm, the road is closed off in both directions, with men in hi-vis jackets. Flames flicker through an upstairs window, with a fire-engine and ambulance parked in the farmyard. Will they let me through? It’s getting dark, and I have no time for a long detour. I put my head down and no-one stops me. I consider taking a photo, but am startled to see a body lying on a trolley, and realise this is no time for pictures. Only then do I notice the film cameras, and the trailers parked further along the road.

I pick up the pace, as I don’t want to be stumbling through dunes in the dark, and make it to Porthcawl just as the sun is setting.

I have booked a room in a two star hotel. The moment I step into the bar to pick up my keys, I realise it’s a bad choice. It’s a rough looking place, with some loud characters, all men, and pounding music. I look out of place with my backpack on. A few people stare. I won’t be lingering for a beer tonight. My room is basic, but fine, and I fall asleep easily, despite the booming bass beneath me. I can’t wait to get back to my tent, with only the noise of birds to disturb me.

Walk distance: 15 miles.

Total distance: 1,245 miles.