tempus fugit

By ceridwen

Perhaps not...

Sunshine at last made it a perfect afternoon for a long coastal walk, Strumble Head to Garnfawr and back by an inland route. The sea was sparkling and the sky mackerel with puffy white cloud. There were ponies and pillow lava, red-legged choughs and golden gorse, lichened walls and brickbuilt coastal defences abandoned after the war but remaining at their posts. The path was grassy, oozy, craggy, prickly and breakneck in an unpredictable sequence.

My biggest thrill was when I spotted, at a lower level, a shadowy entrance that seemed to disappear into the rock face.  I found a steep and narrow cleft, hardly wide enough for single human body yet clearly hacked away to allow 
?smugglers/fishers/swimmers access to the bay below. Steps had been provided but were almost lost under the sliding shale. I inched along and reached the other end where a single iron post marked the continuation of the path downwards - but the next post had fallen away and the path was little more than a crumbling slope. Damn!  
I could see concrete steps further down giving access to the rocky shore (no beach, this place could only be reached at low tide.) A rope would be essential to get down there - and back up. Noted for the future.

Extras: the entrance to the cleft, and the view from above, looking back. The dark crack  dead centre is the cleft through which the path leads.
(The tiny building on highest point is an old radar monitoring station, one of the 'Chain Home Low' network designed to detect low-flying aircraft.)

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