Nudity on a Pembrokeshire beach

I didn't complete the write-ups of my autumn holiday in Pembrokeshire last year, and I think it might be nice to do a couple of posts on two day trips I made from the Club site at St David's, if only because they were done on brilliantly sunny days. It's good to remember all that sunshine, when it's so dull and rainy at the present time!

So, first, a post on my visit to Marloes Sands on 13th September 2019. Here are two location maps - click on them to make them bigger.

As you can see, Marloes Sands is a big sweep of sand below cliffs, bounded by Gatesholm Island in the north-west, and Hooper's Point in the south-east. Beach access is very limited. You can drive to clifftop car parks from the villages of Marloes or Dale, but actually getting onto the beach is difficult except from the car park west of Marloes. If coming from Dale, you have to be content with just the view, unless you have cliff-climbing skills. Though what a view! This is what it looked like on the first occasion I came here in September 1998:

I was here with M---. Having taken in the view, we noticed something moving on that hard-to-get-down-to (and therefore effectively private) beach. Two people. They had emerged from the rocks together, and were strolling towards the gently-lapping sea. And surely there was something about them. Ooooh...they had nothing on! Or if they did, it was very skimpy. We peered down, intent.

M--- had got her little 8 x 20 Zeiss binoculars out (a present from me) and confirmed that, in her opinion, the couple were nude. By now four more clifftop ramblers had arrived, and were also training their binoculars on the two people, who were no doubt oblivious of our keen interest. And anyway, they might well have thought themselves much too far away to worry about prying eyes. They could therefore indulge in a sexy paddle with an easy mind.

I took a shot.

   
You can just make out two figures left-centre, but I'm not convinced they are entirely naked. On the other hand, the film-era rendition is indistinct, and they might be!

Public nudity was still unusual in this country in the 1990s, and we marvelled at the couples' carefree boldness. Certainly, none of our little group up there on the clifftop would have discarded their togs and pranced about a beach, even one so empty.

But then, why not? It was a sunny day, and although a bit breezy up on the clifftop, it might well have been more sheltered down there. Nothing need have shrivelled, or become super-prominent. And clearly there was nobody in authority, no stout guardian of public morals, likely to intervene to protect the innocent eyes of children and maiden aunts from the sight of naked flesh.

In the end we just admired their pluck, remembered their entitlement to privacy, recoiled from seeming like salacious-minded voyeurs, and stopped watching. And perhaps secretly each of us wished we could be so free and easy.

Would I do what they did, now in 2020? For charity I might - but that's not a promise! I'm not a completely dreadful sight in the buff. No horses would be frightened. But if there were the slightest hint of a cold breeze - forget it!

We returned to Marloes Sands in April 2009, this time getting down onto the beach from the car park near Marloes village. But it wasn't the same kind of day. The sun was struggling to come out.

The rocks were jagged, askew, and full of holes. A metaphor for the fractured nature of our relationship at the time. The happy days were over, and would never come back. I didn't enjoy that visit in 2009, and stayed away for many years.

But ten years on, in September 2019, I made a point of returning. It was another bright day. Good. I wanted to walk out to where we had viewed the nude couple, but this time with only that fantastic view as my objective. I was on my own, of course.

The approach was via Dale, a pleasant little place at the entrance to Milford Haven. The one-way system imposed on the narrow local roads obliged you to drive past the old castle, although that was worth a momentary stop, to see it in its setting.

This part of south Pembrokeshire was in the possession of Norman overlords from quite early on, and they built many strongholds to give themselves bases from which the rebellious Welsh could be subdued. The area became distinctly Anglicised.

My route now took me up the steep and very narrow road behind the castle, and off to the left in my picture. I have to say, it was fingers crossed. It would have been impossible for two vehicles to pass each other, and I would have needed to reverse downhill for quite a way. But all was well, although there could have been difficulty, as a car and a van were parked in the first car park you came to up on that hill, either of which might have met me as I drove up.

I paused to admire the wide view, then drove on to the end of the road. There was space to turn here, but room for only two or three cars at most. I manoeuvred Fiona carefully into a spot where she ought not get bumped by any inept driver doing a three-point turn, although it left her canted up at quite an angle.

Time for another map. 

At first I kept close to the cliff edge, to enjoy all the lovely views. So exhilarating in the sunshine! Impossible not to feel happy! 

But I soon had to cut inland a bit, to skirt some holiday homes, and this brought me to the old airfield. It was one of those many coastal airfields constructed in World War II to accommodate planes and crew that patrolled the sea, looking for enemy submarines - and capable of destroying them. I find such places very evocative in their decay. Back in the 1960s and 1970s there were a lot of these airfields still around, often complete with all their old buildings, albeit gutted and open to the weather. They might well shelter sheep. But inevitably they became unsafe and either fell down, or got knocked down. Farmers took over a few hangers and Nissen huts here and there, and some of these are still standing to this day. But now in 2020 you are unlikely to see anything but the concrete runways, which have been very hard to destroy, although they are usually crumbling and unfit for their original use.

Nevertheless, still atmospheric. You can almost hear the drone of reconnaissance planes and bombers as you stand there, alone on one of these runways, with just the sun and the gentle breeze for company.

I walked westwards, and then turned a sharp corner towards the north, to regain the cliff edge and that special view. And there it was. Not the intense colours I remembered from 1998, and rather more pebbles on the sand than then, but still a wonderful view.

Mission accomplished!

And yet, as I stood there, I couldn't help dwelling on that earliest visit in 1998, when the times were good and there were no contentious problems coming between M--- and myself. I felt a pang of sadness for what had been lost, and was now irrecoverable. Few things are as sad as a vanished friendship, and ours was very close. I felt my expression become unhappy. It was worth recording, because I needed to remember this moment for any future visit.

The moment of pain subsided into reflection. Impossible to hold onto what has gone forever. Let it go. The here and now is what matters. And look what I had: a great view on a sunny afternoon, and really nothing at all to worry about.

Time to go. The mood had undoubtedly changed, and I didn't hear imaginary Wellington bombers in the sky as I walked back to my car. I was still thoughtful as I clambered into Fiona. I sat there for a minute or two. 

Ah, let's go. 

I had a brilliant drive back to St David's, via Little Haven, Broad Haven and Nolton Haven. How I love this section of the coast! 

Believe it or not, while at that spot above Marloes Sands I gave no thought at all to the nude couple we saw twenty-one years ago. But I remembered them later, and made a mental note to weave them into any post on this part of the Pembrokeshire coast. I wonder who they were. The precise date was Wednesday 23rd September 1998, and if they are reading this it would be rather nice if they put their hands up. 

I might wish to applaud.