Glam rockers
survivors. And this…,” she explained as we made our way underneath the canopy of beech trees draped with vines, “would have been the path they used to get down to shore. They say it’s haunted by the souls of those lost to sea, and even today many fishermen refuse to use it after dark.”
Walking in the daytime, listening to the cascading water from the adjacent river while shards of sunlight pierced between the leaves, the place felt distinctly spirit-free.
As we neared Nash Point, Nia told me about the most famous of all the shipwrecks – the Frolic. This paddle steamer sank here in 1831 claiming the lives of all crew and 80 passengers onboard. It was this incident which finally saw the Victorians build the lighthouse and was the last in Wales to be manned (it is now electric and rented out as holiday accommodation).
As we neared the final landmark on this section, known as St Donats (a 12th century castle that is now an independent sixth form college), I remarked how low the water had fallen since the high tide
we’d witnessed that morning.
It was then I learned another fact about the Vale of Glamorgan – they have one of the highest tidal ranges in the world (around 49ft – the highest are found nearly 3,000 miles further west in Canada’s Bay of Fundy).
After that revelation, Nia revealed another of Glamorgan’s many claims to fame.
“It’s here at this college in 1962 where they conceived, designed and built the original RIB (rigid inflatable boat) which is still used by lifeboat organisations around the world.”
They say that if they had earned royalties on the design the college would be one of the richest in the world.
Yet the headmaster gave away all rights to the Royal National Lifeboat Institution for £1 – a cheque he never cashed. That thought stayed with me right until the end of the Heritage Coast at Aberthaw, yet I continued on to finish instead at Rhoose Point, Wales’ southernmost spot.
The following morning I would head further east still, to the other side of Barry Island, to where the ‘grandfather of radio’ Guglielmo Marconi made history by passing radio waves over open water in 1897 – an invention that was also responsible for saving countless lives at sea, including the 700 passengers rescued when the Titanic sank. But for now I stood silently on a jigsaw of limestone, watching the sun set over the stacks of blue lias rocky cliffs, while the waves lapped the shore.
It was a suitably sedate way to end what was a thrilling journey across this wild and unassuming coast.
It was like someone had partaken in a recordbreaking game of Jenga