Issue 153

Front abroad

26th February 2007

"How on earth are we going to get down there?!" I asked Jason as we stood at the top of Three Cliffs Bay and he said that he wanted to walk along the beach, at least 100 metres below. We made our own way down the middle of the steep cliff, despite my reservations, and reached the bottom after fifteen minutes of careful walking, me trying hard not to slip and slide down on my bum!

The beach was vast, clean and peaceful, very different to the first few heavily visited bays in the Gower if you start walking from the end of the Mumbles, like Langland and Caswell. A few brave people were rock climbing, and one man had reached the top. It is a wonder he didn't feel dizzy or just fall off!

My experience of walking up and down at Three Cliffs was mild compared to Rhossili, if only I had known beforehand! It was a weekend later, still sunny, when my parents had come down to visit, so we took them to Rhossili. The bay was the most dramatic I have visited, partly because the edge of the cliff has no fencing, or even bushes to stop you from being blown over the edge! The land was very flat, giving you an unobstructed view. The sheep eating grass were really cute as well, although you had to be patient to get any good photographs of them. I took one that makes the sheep look as though he's just going to jump off the edge!

Dad wanted to find the remains of an old radar station, which was fine, apart from the gruelling climb up a very steep hill to get to it! The wild ponies were friendly though. It was all very well getting to the top, but then my mum wanted to walk back along the beach, which involved climbing back down the other side of the small mountain!

My poor red shoes, my newest red shoes, broken! The mud and rough ground was just too much for them and it wasn't until I was throwing myself over a big gate, trying to avoid the mud on the other side that I realised. One shoe had come unstuck at the toe! That was it; I was annoyed now, and hiked back up the other side of the hill very quickly to get it over with. I had an excuse to buy some more shoes at least.

What confused me about Rhossili was the emergency phone for people to use if somebody is stranded on the Worm's Head causeway at high tide. The instructions were simple enough - 'dial 999' - but the phone only has the numbers one to three on it!

I got back from the Gower without any other mishaps, and played poker at a friend's house one night the following week. We were playing for coppers, as three of the four people there weren't that sure of how to play, myself included! I'm pleased to say that I won a couple of games, because my 'poker- face' is rubbish!

Midnight came and went, just like the last bus back to Brynmill, (our friend lives at the end of the Mumbles). Rain was pelting down outside and it was windy, so I wasn't that thrilled when Pete called for a cab, to find that the company had no taxi's in the area, and refused to give him the number for a Mumbles firm, as they were competition!

There was nothing else for it, Jason, Pete and I had to walk halfway along the Mumbles to the taxi firm and hope that they could take us. Armed with a borrowed hat and rugby-shirt to keep out the cold, we set off into the night. We arrived at the taxi company about fifteen minutes later, and luckily a driver could take us home.

"Great" I thought, a week later, "it's snowed at last, and I'll be able to make a snowman." Unfortunately there was to be no snowman for me this year, just a six hour journey to Bristol for the weekend, watching the snow disappear in front of my eyes as the car stood motionless on the motorway! The ten minutes it should take to reach Sainsbury's in Swansea took two hours from Brynmill, I couldn't believe it! Swansea's entire workforce must have been sent home at exactly the same time for the traffic to be so bad. I had the remains of a big packet of minieggs to keep us going, which I rationed out every hour!

Driving through the country to arrive at my town you would never have guessed that snow had been on the ground the day before, there was no trace of it at all. The roads were peaceful and the Indian takeaway was busy, just like any Friday evening.

Caroline Sutch