What a difference a day makes. The Mumbles looked glorious under blue skies. The journey to Pembrokeshire, via Rhossili, was carried out under grey, crying clouds. At least the rain stopped at Rhossili leaving a level of low mist to cover the peaks around arguably the best beach in Wales, if you have the legs to get down to it with or without your surf board. It was eerie and ghostly with swirling wisps of cloud revealing secrets to the remarkably high number of visitors, considering the weather.

The rain and drizzle continued through to Pembrokeshire. That righteous part of my clean living did me proud again with the skies clearing on arrival to to the prettiest converted barn imaginable overlooking Dinas Head and the village of Newport.

Having provided a glimpse of what’s on offer, the clouds drew in overnight. Wet weather could be heard on the skylights. In the morning, during a respite in the cloud-dumping sessions, I opened the back door. The glory of the silence that squashed against me was overwhelming, only disturbed by the bleeding of the occasional sheep in the neighbouring field.

The rain was not going to cease completely today and so it was out and at ’em, what ever the sky threw down. Newport is a lovely village with picturesque cottages, pubs, restaurants and unique, independant craft & tourist shops. Parrog beach runs along the side of the mouth of the River Nyfer. With the tide out it is like a wet snake, slithering through the muddy, sandy squelch of the estuary.

Crossing the river to the north, the road rises around to the golf club and down to the town beach on the opposite side.

Greys of clouds darken in the distance and approach relentlessly, waiting to dump their loads on the sands. Human activity continues unabated, providing endless entertainment for an appreciative audience – those attempting to remain upright on their new paddle boards, dog owners loosing control over their excited, pedigree, designer-dogs despite calls, whistles, treats and leads. Have a look at these atmospheric images:

I couldn’t resist this one. This little girl is anxiously waiting for her granddad who has been down to the sea with a bucket and spade in which to collect water especially for her and their sand castle-building efforts.

The title of the blog and the first image might give you a clue about this road trip.

A large concrete block, with consonant-heavy words, short chomped hill-grass and a couple of rather manky mountain sheep with tattered fleeces give it away. I am on my way over to the west coast of Wales and breaking the journey for a day in The Mumbles.

Once across the southern-most bridge over the Severn and past Cardiff, it is a right turn up into the hills and valleys of the Rhondda and Wales’ industrial past.Along the top of the valleys the road passes through countless mining communities with relics of their industrial past, tall chimneys, lift machinery, foundry buildings, standing empty, usually dilapidated, but still proud above the strings of workers’ terraces that line the road and lasso up and down the hillsides. Even this aquaduct shouts out its heritage, built in 1827 to carry water to an iron works three miles away.

Above the mining villages the road rises to the Brecon Beacons with parades of wind farms behind, their upper rotations hidden by haze and whispers of cloud. On the edge of a ‘long and winding road’, overlooking the valley communities, stands a rather sad, lonely single ice cream van selling coffee, icecream and home-made Welsh cakes (well we are in Wales!). It still gets customers – some more interested in the surrounding grass than the ice cream.

Following the head of the valleys eventually brings us down to Swansea and, by folowing the coastline, to The Mumbles, the guardian of the wonderful Gower coastline. Down to the Bay, looking left and right, respectivrly, along to Swansea and to the two RNLI lifeboat stations at the end of the pier.

Here’s a close up, with the lighthouse behind on the headland.

More about The Mumbles, tomorrow.