A Desolate beauty

The beach at the northern end of Braughton Bay on the northwestern tip of the Gower peninsula of south Wales is at first glance dull and featureless. However, a long walk from the car park at Llanmadoc north toward Whiteford Point lighthouse on a wet afternoon reveals a different, desolate beauty which is just as captivating as its far more popular neighbouring beaches.

We left the car park just as the sun broke through the clouds on a blustery afternoon in July. The previous night's storm had turned the path down to the Nature reserve into a small torrent, tumbling pebbles down the roadand making the steep road treacherous. It was not a great start to a beach walk, but as we gingerly picked a path down to the gate marked "National Trust" the air took on a salty tang and the mud underfoot gave way to sandy soil. Past a few trees, round a rocky outcrop and immediately we walked out onto the middle of a vast expanse of flat sandy shoreline stretching in wide arcs for several miles in both directions.

We found we had the dunes and shore to ourselves, with not another soul in sight. Just the cawing of seabirds and the wind whipping at our clothing disturbed the stillness. A thin line on the sand marked the high tide line, comprising flotsam washed up the night before. As we walked along it the tideline took most of out interest. At first it was the usual plastic odds and ends, ropes of varous colours and small pieces of driftwood, but pretty soon we came across huge jellyfish, 2 foot across and more.

At first we looked with a bit of fascinated horror, but there, beneath the scudding clounds, this corpse took on a beautiful aspect. The every changing reflections flitted across the surface while beneth that an infinite variety of blue and milky shades played tricks with my eyes. The jellyfish was not a regular little one with the four circles on the dome, but a pelagic variety. It looks like a 'shiff arms jellyfish' which is a non-stinging variety

We saw oyster catchers, sand martins and gulls all fighting against the storm winds.

The wind and tide had unearthed the remains of a different corpse. A small hoof and leg looked to be the remains of a pony. Now normall I would never photograph such a thing, but on this day, in this weather on this beach, i didn't see something to shy away from. This was not a morbid fascination with death, but a chance to see the beauty in the hidden aspects of nature. The decomposition that usually happens below ground was laid bare for us to see. We paused and looked at the bones, still in places covered in skin and hair, while in others bleached white already.

Danger sign

The wind picked up and the oystercatchers headed off toward the dunes.

We decided to do the same but were now confronted by a large danger sign.

 

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