Big G, the salty old dog, has been sniffing round the coastal fringes again:
”Dear NWB readers,
It’s a fairly well established fact that all sea-caves, despite their dramatic architecture and atmospheric vibe are, from the boulderer’s viewpoint; inconvenient, limited, or simply... crap.
So how about this little affair; between Abrahams Bosom and The Range, on the cliché-swept west coast of the ‘Holy Island’?
Inconvenient it is. By the time you have found it with these directions the tide will have come in and pummelled you into the back of the cave like a piece of cheap sea-washed litter.
It is accessed by finding the north end of Porth y Gwyddel and then wandering aimlessly over nondescript fields, at whose edges you will encounter a type of thorn-bush which only grows here and consequently likes to make its presence felt.
Eventually an implausible fisherman’s descent path will be located running down a long ridge leading to a boulder beach. Wander hopelessly across the beach until you come to a prominent ridge sporting some airy fins. Below this our quest ends as our mission begins...
Limited it is; for it sports just one decent feature; a monstrous super-solid pre-Cambrian world class quartz flake, only to be reached by hard moves or a tower of exploratory mats. You will need to catch it on a dry, windy day with low humidity and a medium to low tide. Even then you will need a drift-wood ladder or a chalk-ball on a stick or someone good with you.
Crap...it is not!
Pre-Cambrian eh; just think - no life has ever been on that there flake!
A flake without life is as bad as a life without flakes!
Love, Big G”
Fishermen of Môn
There was a strong tradition on the island of the binding of the feet of fishing folk from an early age. Thus their tiny shoes dug deeply into the spongy grass and fitted neatly into the stupid narrow paths of utter death which grace the coast at so many points today.
Fingernails were also grown to such a length as enabled them to dig into marine flora as an added security.
The Lady-men of Môn (Oxford Press)
The History of Sea Mincing (Picador)
This harmless activity involves toiling up desperate ground with pieces of vaguely aesthetic sea washed timber. The wood is then left outside your house or in a garden where it looks out of place, or it can be made into a piece of awful art or used as firewood after a drying period of some years.