The only sheltered spot for an early lunch at Mynydd y Graig was olfactorily enhanced by some nice fresh horse manure. Horses aren’t as daft. If only the same could be said of me.
I seem to be a little premature in visiting the Bluebell Wood.
Impassable clifftop at Hell’s Mouth, further enhanced by Storm Doris.
It would be pretty tricky to escape up these slippery clay cliffs if the tide came in.
Hell’s Mouth – another busy day on the beach.
Disturbingly high nurdle count at Hell’s Mouth.
Plastic strandline.
I carefully optimised the front of the tent to match my forehead.