A capricious October this, but yesterday the sun coaxed us out for a day trip and we followed our instincts West. Living on the western tip of Gower, it’s 15 miles going north east before we can leave the peninsula, and after following the coast road right the way round to the other side of the Burry Inlet, after about 30 miles we could stand and look right back to where we had come from. Standing on the soft blonde sands at Burry Port we could look south over the water to the soft blonde sands of Broughton where we we would normally be strolling along and gazing out to where we are now. Gower lay across our horizon like a cat on a sunny windowsill.
To say that Burry Port has risen like a Phoenix from its industrial past wouldn’t really convey its gentle hatching into the budgie coloured community it is now, with its little harbour tinkling with leisure boats and its ribboned streets of terraced houses holding their little faces to the sun. The place doesn’t bustle; it ambles, smiles and quietly prospers. It is like a jewel that is gradually appearing out of the sand and its glinting has been spotted. People are moving in from elsewhere. The Milennium Coast project has made the beaches a draw for holidaymakers and the coast path an easy cycle ride all the way from Loughor to Kidwelly. Last winter we were able to park up in the Hymer right on the beach front with a handful of other motorhomers. Now a new lifeboat station is nearing completion and the parking area is being redeveloped. It’s not clear whether motorhomes will have the same access to the harbour that we were so privileged to have earlier in the year. Hey, ho, all things change.
We continued West, heading for Ferryside, another sleepy little Carmarthenshire village snuggled into the hilly coastline on the Towy (Tywi in Welsh) estuary. The West Wales train line passes through here giving passengers a gorgeous view of the sea and of Llansteffan castle on the other side. The tiny station ensures that the community has an easy link to the bigger towns; Carmarthen, Llanelli, and Swansea.
There is a haunting connection to this area for me, looking across the water to where my Jones ancestors originate. My father used to tell us the story of a boyhood outing with his grandfather, by train from Swansea to Ferryside, my great-grandfather carrying a bag of cement, then across to Llansteffan on the ferry ending with a couple of miles walk uphill to Llanybri. There, they would make repairs to the family graves; graves which in future years we, their descendants, would take the pilgrimage to visit and reflect on our origins. Apparently we still have relatives there somewhere.
Apart from that sense of historic connection to the place, Ferryside draws Gareth and me at least once annually to the little Ferry Cabin cafe which serves fresh, and when available, locally caught fish, and the most delicious homemade fruit tarts (our favourite is blackcurrant). Paul has cleverly retained the simple vinyl table-cloth ambience of the cafe that he has taken over from his mother. It’s a great little business and a rare survivor in a world where sophisticated rustic dining is replacing simple, honest, unpretentious local style and cuisine. A plate of Paul’s fish and chips, followed by his mother’s homemade fruit tart with custard or ice-cream, is unrivalled in my experience. Harry Ramsden eat your heart out!
Tummy’s satisfied, we took the short walk across the railway line onto the beach to watch the newly reinstated amphibious ferry boat drive up onto the sand bringing passengers over from Llansteffan. A strange looking vehicle, Gareth learned that it was partly designed in New Zealand, and now, built in Pembrokeshire, through a funding project aimed at providing employment for coastal communities, it runs 15 minute crossings back and forth across the river mouth. Drawing in day trippers it will hopefully boost the tourism credentials of the area. I just hope, fervently, that Paul’s Ferry Cabin doesn’t change.
I sat, soaking up the sun as it slowly made its way down behind the castle and Gareth took photos of the ferry boat. The dogs cavorted happily on the sands while I thought about my great-grandfather, his migration as a boy from Llanybri to Swansea to find work in the foundries and how vital the original ferry had been for visiting his relatives back in the little hamlet above Carmarthen Bay. The communities either side of the Towy estuary have been cut off from each other for many years after the ferry stopped operating in the 1950’s when I was just an infant and he was an old man. Now the ferry is back, and I can plan an outing with my own grandchildren making the same journey by train along the coast and across the Towy to the land of our fore-fathers. Maybe I can make memories for our little ones that will pass down the line to new generations; memories that will evoke feelings of connection to their Carmarthenshire ancestry and ‘calon lan’ (Welsh for ‘strong heart’). My great-grandfather was strong-hearted for sure, in his efforts to repair those graves, but there’s no way I’ll be carrying a bag of cement with me, I’m afraid!
