Mike's Natural Musings: A Day on the Celtic Fringes

Monday, 15 July 2013

A Day on the Celtic Fringes - Llanddwyn Island.

Woke yet again to a cloudless sky this morning but suprisingle it soon clouded over. Undaunted we continued with our plans and drove over to Anglesey and onto Newborough Warren. Unlike last September we opted to drive through the forest and park in the beach car park. As we arrived the tide and the fog both rolled in but it was still warm. As we walked through the dunes to the beach, we found good numbers of pyramidal and common spotted orchids but early purples were going over and past their best. Rest harrow was everywhere. We continued along the beach to Ynys LLanddwyn, or Lovers Island, with tendrils of mist playing round our ankles. The island is rich in legends, and in particular the association with Dwynwen. The name Llanddwyn means "The church of St. Dwynwen". Dwynwen is the Welsh patron saint of lovers, making her the Welsh equivalent of St. Valentine. Her Saint's day is January 25 and is often celebrated by the Welsh with cards and flowers. The remains of St Dwynwen's Church can still be found on the island. Although technically an island, it is connected to the mainland by a sand and shingle causeway and only cut off on the highest tides. By the causeway are groups of rocks; fabulous green coloured pillow lavas encrusted with grey and yellow lichens, remnants of volcanic activity from aeons ago.
As we walked over to the island we found sea holly with its grey, green spikey leaves and powder blue flowers. Bloody cranesbill proliferated in the dunes. Butterflies were on the wing as the fog cleared: meadow browns, small heaths and the occasional unidentified fritillary. As we wandered over the island and the low cliff tops the grasses had ripened to a dry gold and the ground was studded with yellow catsear. Vipers Bugloss was growing profusely in the gardens of the old pilots' cottages.
By now the sun had burned the clouds off but fog still lingered and wreathed around the hills of the Lleyn Peninsular across the bay. This is another magical place with a celtic atmosphere on the western fringes of our archipelago; a finger of rock thrusting out into the bay, cut off on the highest tides.
Soon it was time to make our way back to Bangor to pick up Beth and head back to the caravan for a BBQ. Oh, and a beer!