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Swirls of silver and turquoise glimmer and dance across the horizon as you trek onwards through another field, thanking yourself for choosing walking shoes over sandals as you encounter yet another patch of mud. Crowds of vivid pink foxgloves and sunshine-yellow gorse adorn the cliff, their ability to withstand the inevitable mercilessness of the wind and rain catching you by surprise. The cliff was not so lucky you realise, noticing the haphazard leftovers that the sea has spared. Only a few steps closer to the edge and you too would become victim to the seemingly innocent watery depths below. This is the Wales Coast Path; a place where nature has the final say.
It is beautiful, a combination of the sun beaming down with the colours of the sea and fields being interrupted by the occasional splash of white from a scattering of sheep. The insatiable gulls wheel and shriek overhead in the hope of a morsel of food they can devour. As you set foot on your journey, the unique layering of elements within the landscape is the first thing you notice: the combination of sea, sky and fields in whichever direction you look.
Anyone who encounters something idyllic will inevitably want to capture it in some way, through a photograph or perhaps a piece of writing, or simply as a fond memory. I wanted to display the beauty of the landscape along sections of the Wales Coast Path through textiles, creating something that portrays the multi-sensory elements that stand out to me the most even months after experiencing it. A reminder of all of the other people who have experienced this same route comes with almost a softness to the well-used wooden gate beneath your hand as you enter the next field. You also feel an unexplainable connection to the natural landscape where the seemingly glittering sea borders an abrupt stop at the cliff; almost as if someone has sliced a piece off. This is the work of no human but instead the power and strength of the tides, cutting away into the rock to expose the layers and colours accumulated over thousands of years. Even the remaining fencing that was installed in a futile attempt to demarcate the edge of the path attempts to cling onto the edge, some stretches already having succumbed to the water below.
The forging of a connection between people and nature is something the Wales Coast Path is certainly capable of achieving. On its tenth anniversary in 2022, The Wales Coast Path Review Group published a report detailing nineteen recommended aims for the Path, one of which being that it should act as a ‘catalyst for connecting people to nature more often and for longer’, both in terms of pleasure and wellbeing. This quality can certainly resonate with you as you conquer another hill with an ache in your legs and a soreness in your feet. You feel alive, with a renewed sense of awe and appreciation for the environment. Yet as you pause to catch your breath, you also realise that walking is a more strenuous activity than you initially thought when you had set out that morning.
You begin the ascent up another steep section of the path where a few loose rocks tumble and slip beneath your feet. You are thankful that the weather is on your side today, but others might not be so lucky. Making your way along the edge of the Welsh coastline in the rain would add a further challenge. As you absorb the beauty of your surroundings you consider what it would be like on a less pleasant day – maybe in the winter when the ground is covered in frost and little icicles cling on to the cobwebs. The sea wouldn’t sparkle, but instead would be shrouded in mist casting shadows over the water. It would feel as if it were holding dangerous secrets, held captive deep within its waters. This is another way nature holds its grasp on people – the weather conditions determine what nature permits you to see along the Welsh Coast.
I am not alone in experiencing a feeling of gratitude combined with an overwhelming sense of wonder along these paths. In their book Slow Walking the Wales Coast Path, Eirlys Thomas and Lucy O’Donnell note how rewarding their experience was due to the views being ‘well worth the effort’. Yet they also recount the power and danger of the sea especially in the rapidly approaching tides and remnants of the path that goes ‘alarmingly near the edge in parts’. It is the appearance of the landscape but also the ups and downs of the path that determine your experience with the coast path, putting not only your physical strength to the test but also your ability to accept as beyond your control the mental challenges that you face along the way as a result of the beautiful yet often physically demanding environment.
After a much-needed lunch break you resume the final stretch for the day, yet there are signs warning you of cliff erosion and you are shocked to notice that sections of the path are missing, big chunks of land having fallen away into the sea. You recommence your walk with a wariness that was not there at the start of the day. Had you come another day, the landscape would have looked different, and you conclude that it will continue to shift in the future. It is the very shape of the landscape that is changed by the sea’s power; it feels almost as if the water decides when and where we are permitted to explore the Welsh coast, and what we are able to see and experience along the way.
Molly Clifford is in her final year at Aberystwyth University studying English Literature. She is interested in combining literature with textiles, particularly in relation to physical geography.
Further articles from Planet Platform:
‘I’m not lazy like those people’: How austerity rations our compassion
Reflections from the Wales Coast Path: Penrhyndeudraeth to Harlech
Dock to Dock: The Cardiff Bay Barrage
Retracing Wales | Discover the Shape of a Nation