Animal

Country diary: against a sky of virtually flawless blue, a fulmar soared


The air was almost still, and only the smallest of ripples marked the edge of the receding tide; the only artificial sound was that of a single boat engine far out to sea. At the back of the beach, a jumble of boulders lay at the foot of cliffs topped by tangled mature trees newly in leaf. I stuck close to the water on the hard wet sand, keen to shorten the route around the bay as much as possible.

It was warm, and grew hotter still as I turned inland along the bank of the narrow Afon Llethi. The hedgerows, sheltered by the low hills, were rapidly gaining their bright, full-summer foliage, with violets and bluebells adding abrupt points of brilliance in the shafts of sunlight.

The long climb through the woods.



The long climb through the woods. Photograph: John Gilbey

Welcome patches of dappled shade cooled the long climb through the low woodland beyond Cei Bach. Pausing at a familiar gate, I noted how far removed the scene was from the harsh February day I first passed this way decades ago, buffeted by the storm force winds and bitter, wretched sleet that had roared in from the west.

Above the woods, the route cuts across the steep, open slopes towards Craig Ddu. Rafts of dead bracken still covered much of the rough ground, but stunted hawthorn trees in full leaf and blossom, carved into strangely elongated shapes by the wind from the sea, stood out against the dull brown detritus. Stonechats called from the cover of gorse bushes, moving quickly away when approached, before circling back around to their preferred perch.

A clump of sea thrift (Armeria maritima) on the cliff edge near Aberaeron.



A clump of sea thrift
(Armeria maritima) on the cliff edge near Aberaeron. Photograph: John Gilbey

Against a sky of virtually flawless blue, gulls and an occasional fulmar soared and squabbled, their nest sites happily concealed from the trail and inaccessible to all but the most persistent interloper. The path, edged by orchids, dropped in a series of steep turns towards the waterfalls of the Afon Drywi. Over the years, the passage of countless feet has worn a matrix of elliptical steps in the turf, suggesting the scales of some mythical creature.

Sitting on the warm, smooth turf of the clifftop, surrounded by clumps of sea thrift and the sounds of coast and river, I tried not to recall that I was only halfway to my destination.



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