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Pebbles on a beach, kicked around, displaced by feet... Photos: Big G




In keeping with the summer holiday season, this month Big G offers us a topical entry for the ever-expanding canon of BotM venues. Don’t forget to holler ‘Hi-de-hi!” if you go…

Dear NWB readers,

There are some remote rocks in this quirky corner of the world; waiting for us in the mountains far-flung nooks, waiting for us in field and forest, but this month it is a coastal feature we shall admire, whose remoteness is no less marked for its position in a visited place, and no less worthy for its modest profile.

Here is an odd tale indeed of people and rocks, and it begins - one would guess - with their initial discovery by those souls who saw fit to venture to Pen-ychain gr 436 353 (you have to wonder what their original intention was in rocking up to such a place).

Anyway, the positive nature of these particular outcrops, the aspect, the pebble-landing and its minimal disturbance from the sea must have brought such crowds to bear that other attractions inevitably popped up around it. The commercial opportunities were not lost on holiday firms and soon a complex was established.

What is so odd is the subsequent loss of focus - most visitors tending to lose their way and let themselves down in so many ways, often failing even to reach the rocks as a result of inebriation, sun-worship and sing-alongs in what was to become Butlins of Pwllheli.

Ironically with these rejected treasures enclosed by the camp boundaries, things have gone full circle; any scrawny boulderers deigning to pursue the original cause should probably anticipate a barrage of abuse. Larger cans will be thrown, pizza pieces frizbied.

Be strong; you've evolved - they haven't.

Blessed are the uncoordinated.

For they shall enjoy more sequences.

Love, Big G

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