Around the Edge of Wales (15)....Cemaes to Llanddona

Around the edge of Wales (15).....Cemaes to Llanddona

Back at Cemaes, first thing in the morning , and people are walking dogs on the beach, happily ignoring the seasonal dog ban notices.  I set off eastwards again. Dead rabbits are strewn across the headland and the reason becomes clear as one rabbit lollops slowly away from a kissing gate, its bulging eyes a telltale sign of myxamatosis. The dog barely sniffed at it before turning away. No chase here, just the smell of lingering death.

I was glad to leave Cemaes with its memories of bleeding fingers, dying rabbits and jubilee flags in cold rain. Fortunately I quickly came across some wonderful sights – a large patch of purple sheep’s bit flowers mixed with deep green  growth of young gorse tips offering a perfect colour combination along the path, the beautiful Llanbadrig Church sitting at the edge of a cliff and the superb kissing gate made by a colleague of mine, Joe Roberts - its design based on the strings and shape  of an Irish harp.

Choughs flitted and fulmars chortled along this first section of cliff but only another solitary walker had decided to brave the rain. In the distance the sound of the seabird colony on Ynys Badrig sounded like the creak and heave of a rolling ship.  The section of cliff east of Cemaes offered a fascinating glimpse of past industries – remains of stacks, kilns, winches, wheels and other buildings were all visible reminders of the industries I’d read about on the interpretation panel at Cemaes and the brickworks at Borthwen were stunning, even in the hazy rain.

I  stopped to watch 3 sea kayakers near the outdoor swimming pool built by the 2^nd Marquiss  of Anglesey at Porth Llechog, feeling slightly envious as my feet were now aching in wet boots. I caught up with them again at Amlwch, where the day was generally looking brighter. The path through coastal heathland east of Amlwch was soft and springy underfoot. Gannets were plunging off the shore and three porpoises accompanied me all the way to the lighthouse at Trwyn Elian, their soft, watery ‘whooshing’ sound clearly audible from the path as they gently dived and looped a leisurely path along the shore.

Above Bae Elian, where an intrepid swimmer was taking a break from his cycling trip, the fields south of the lighthouse were a glorious sea of yellow rattle, red clover, trefoil, yorkshire fog and sweet vernal grass. The path detoured inland at Dulas then led to one of the most beautiful estuaries I’d seen, on a rapidly ebbing tide. Two decaying boat hulls  seemed to be keeping watch over the mouth of the estuary and two egrets stood still and white amongst the russet colours of the saltmarsh.  I would have stayed for hours to take photographs, but the day was fading fast. The next section was familiar – along grassy clifftops with wonderful camping spots to the sandy sweep of Traeth Lligwy, then on to Moelfre, and past Benllech to Traeth Coch which was vast and coppery in the dying sun.