Mwmbles

No one is around on the pier as I stand mesmerised by a well-aged pink dinosaur and a disregarded fallen fiberglass friend. Both are framed by a small lighthouse on a low rocky point and steely grey ocean. We had risen fresh and excited but found early Sunday is not a thing in Swansea, the first buses are late morning. Wanting to explore we found a taxi that ambled along the grey foreshore. Across the far side of the bay are industrial structures in the mist, nestled in the farthest corner this side is our destination the village of Mwmbles (The Mumbles, say it first in Welsh). It is a quaint seaside village personified, older style homes, a few shops lined up tight, seaside leisure and penny arcades along the protected seafront. It is located just inside an outcrop that protrudes into the North Atlantic. In the most protected corner, is the pier with two serious boathouses perched over the water. ‘We’ includes my favourite friend and wanderer who with a priceless look of adventure now pokes around the old timbers for caches and takes a classic snap of a long row of gulls in front of the older unused boatshed. ‘Let’s go’ she had said whilst we paused in Perth halfway around a lap of Australia. Already homeless, we packed and stored our van. Now we were the Antipodeans on a later in life first time visit to the mother country. With a vigorous random jump from London to Wales, we found the next country in the family. Years later I told this story to my cousin, who exclaimed, you know Uncle Stanley lived in Mumbles. No I hadn’t, but as I took in lungful’s of fresh ocean air, I felt this place. I grew up by the sea and the salt air gets into you and stirs those connections. On this day the soft gloom of the Atlantic fits legends of ancient seafaring, journeys into the unknown. Being here feels connected and drawn by inspiration.

Just a few days earlier fresh off the plane from layovers in Singapore and Qatar these newbie world travelers dove straight onto a train in the depths of Heathrow to be deposited alongside a red and white low-set Central Line tube at Ealing Broadway. Due to depart in 8mins, it sat modest and unpatronised allowing us a quiet moment to absorb this initial aspect of London. It was a traditional older style station, open above with the tube sitting beside two mainline platforms. A backdrop of buildings and solid brick in places left it feeling closed in and partially sunken. Along a grubby facia on the far side, a sleek pointy dark green train with a yellow nose appeared in a blur, and with the swoosh of many carriages disappeared again in seconds. That’s fancy, we don’t have those in Australia, we have old clackity and not quick. In the few minutes pondering two of these expressed past, quirking our latent interest and not for the first time over coming day leaving feelings we were somewhat from another world. We had booked three nights in London and our grand tour was casual and intimate. A few rounds of the city on the classic double deckers and wandering to places my dad always talked about and it was enough. A brief fling for a place that can barely be known in a lifetime. Not being busy city types, less is more, and on day three rather than complicate our simple impressions, we asked ourselves, what next? Where were those fast trains going? Green is the Great Western Railway, years of tradition to the west country, Bristol, Bath, many carry on to Wales [1]. Another country, cool, and Swansea, I know people that were from there, Luvley (Lovely). They depart just around the corner at Paddington Station, home of the bear. Less than a hundred currency somethings to take two people to another country in about 3 hours, fantastic. They leave every 30 minutes, don’t even need to book. Really? again in Oz, you’re lucky if a country train goes once a day.

A routine earlyish start with bags demands a short cab ride. They are waiting outside the hotel. Yes sir, here’s your plain looking people mover…  Awww, I think we are going to need that London Cab, the tourist thing, but its second in line. There’s some subtle eye rolling, we understand but are happy to wait for this little tradition. The cheery London cab guy doesn’t want to wait, but he knows protocol and banters pointlessly with the intentionally confused van guy about history and tourism until another fare appears and everyone is happy. He wheels us away sharing London Cab insights in a colourful local accent. This is a new Chinese hybrid model, replacing the old originals, same design, big back seats, U-turns on a sixpence, now with a hybrid motor for London’s strict emissions zones.

The 10am Saturday Morning from Paddington is a fully patronised buzz of intercity cultural outings, hens parties, football fans, family visitations. Within minutes we are the ones speeding through outer suburbia and not long before scattered villages flicker by as little rows of townhouses and gardens. My GPS speedo touches 200km/h, and with a little background, I learn of the 125mp/h Intercity vision from the 1970s [2].  The British are proud of their trains, they invented them, well some of them, more so they advanced technologies that built connected and industrialised empire. Soon to be crossing the Severn we would parallel the world’s first iron bridge. A result of the processes discovered in this area that changed lumpy pig iron into strong cast iron and steel. This led to engineering that redefined the path of humanity forever. Stone, wood, rope and basic metals lacked structural integrity. In the 1800s, the Severn River between England and Wales was the testing ground for several bridges that were dramatically higher and wider than had previously been possible. Most of these are still in use today. Every grand engineering span of the modern world has a connection to this place.  My home world has bridges, it just doesn’t seem to know how to make the best use of them. High-speed electric rail is effective and efficient, and our Great Western to Swansea smoothly served snacks as it slipped under the wide estuarial Severn and emerged minutes later in Wales. Not for the first time in Europe would I reflect on Australia’s car dependence and failure to embrace these obvious benefits.

Cardiff is a decent small city, the rail stops near the stadium, a different nation and different sporting identity[3], the rugby is on and most passengers dissipate. The final leg is quieter and more spacious at a more leisurely pace. Swansea is for locals and those seeking a more personal Welsh experience. The sleek green train comes to rest, looking slightly out of place on a curved end-of-line platform, with mixed cement underfoot and well protected by a sturdy old grey iron structure and tin roof.

With a little mystique, the road curves away downhill from the station towards the centre of town. Lined with simple stone brick two three story businesses and terrace homes it has a low key big small town feel. We arrive at the top corner of a decent town square, it is modernised, with a waterfall fountain, seats and thick foliage on unfamiliar trees. Small cobbles rattle the roll of our bags as our side the footpath widens to reveal the spectacular ruins of a castle, not detached or fenced, just right there along the footpath. It’s not huge but is stacked high with ancient stone and casts a reverent shadow over the space. Castelle Abetawe or Swansea Castle is 900 years old, first built in 1070[4] it has many iterations and histories. The age and feel are palpable. It is my first castle in the wild, London had old things, but they were busy and contained. This commanding structure is personable and draws your attention.  Standing beside its craggy grey stone you feel stories of lives and times seeping out. We find our digs, and stroll out in a cutting wind to explore the coast along the broad expanse of Swansea Bay. Seeking shelter in a sleepy modern museum along the refurbished shoreline, it notes a strong cultural disposition with all things Welsh and Swansea, an old tram, and the history of coal mining. Bilingual signs ‘Say it first in Welsh’ native words sitting proudly before English on all signs.

Evocative, emotive tones correlate to the character of this place and the next morning, standing on the pier, the local charms are warmly under our skin. The proud new building at the end is the local Lifeboat facility. As we approach, the door is open, but it is not an open house. We stand having a peek, and a group wanders up and gathers. No one else is around, this is a special morning outing. A couple of volunteers appear and usher them in, the tail end volunteer notices us not forthcoming, ‘no, we were just nearby’, ‘your welcome to join anyway’, Oh! Thank you, love too. At this oceanside point of a popular estuarial bay, Mumbles Royal National Lifeboats Institution (RNLI) station has been rescuing people since 1835[5]. Britain is an Island and relative to its landmass it has a very long and complex coastline, no location in the UK is more than 113km from the Coast. The Mumbles Pier seems simple enough, but closer inspection reveals dense pillars below the boatsheds. It sits protected in the corner of the bay, yet legendary Atlantic Ocean storms are just around the corner. 5m tides are ordinary, but extremes get closer to 10m. Today the water is about 10m down. Walking through an innocuous doorway, we arrive in the upper part of the building, with a centrepiece of a giant orange white and blue ocean-going rescue boat. Sixteen metres long, it fills the high ceiling and sits a level down in the depths of the pier. The Roy Barker IV is part of the Tamar class lifeboat fleet and can do 25knots (45km/h) in open seas in all weather. It is self-righting with a crew of seven and 44 survivors on board or can carry up to 118 survivors, non-self-righting[6]. As part of a fleet with many other vessels, 25 of these Tamar class boats are stationed around the British Isles. The doors ahead of it are open to a long, steep slipway. Given its size and the drop to low tide, this seems ominous and highlights its serious technicality and grace. The design of the building is stunning, bright and pristine, with a classic oceanic feel of polished timbers, shiny fittings, flags and boards noting those who have served. Sparing a moment to be stunned by this fortunate happenstance, small chats with the visitor group reveal they are a visiting men’s choir. Outfitted in spiffy red jackets, they seem to fit the space, and noting the finely curved roof, they ask if it might be appropriate to sing a tune. So, on day four of wandering the mother country, destiny had us on the edge of the Atlantic, in a Lifeboat Station with the rich tones of Worcester Male Voice Choir[7] filling this hallowed space with respect to the RNLI volunteers. I don’t mind admitting I had quite an emotional response!

This felt all the more relevant as Welsh choirs are renowned and highlight the colourful local linguistics. There is a traditional local language as reflected in the bilingual signs. Still, the subtle irony is that not many speak it, a fact that locals accept with good-natured, self-sustaining and self-deprecating humour. This is buoyed by Welsh English being scattered with quirky colloquialisms such as I’ll do it now in a minute (soon). The local linguistics have many phonetics that are not found in any other language[8]. It is a recognisably warm and colourful accent with a rich range of tones, notably often tagged with a high-pitched stressed last syllable. Sometimes, this leaves outsiders confused as to whether they have been given a statement or left with a question.

Sunday seaside entertainment in Mumbles had still not kicked off, and the curious aging Penny arcades are full of lights, bells and whistles yet mostly deserted. Allowing time to wander and be tempted by moving shelves that with the addition of your coin might tip a barrage of coins as a reward, or bumping throwing shooting for the promise of stuffed toy. Along the shore, the Sunday morning action is a big modern seaside eatery, a combination of old school self serve cafeteria, or we serve you café style. Inside is big and cosy for all year round, but today the late summer weather was clearing and nice for an outdoor sitting. Out front was a little wharf launching spot where novelty craft were being assembled for The Mumbles Lifeboat 34th Fun Raft Race later today, more great traditions of the seaside.

The mumbles region beyond the point is renowned for miles of rolling coastal hills and coastal parks. For us, the local bus was now underway and as it circled back to Swansea it gave us a hilly tour up and around mixed residential Mumbles, where older simple grey homes were interspersed with small modern bright pastel villas. Early risers like a early afternoon rest, then the need for a load of washing is an opportunity to get into the real heart of town. Here, Swansea continued to intrigue. One simple square building had  windows with closed net curtains along its entire length, above was simple square neon writing stating Michaelangelo, Ping Pong, Ambition, Sibelius, and Girls. Dinner at the Eli Jenkins local pub would add some final charm with classic pie mash veg n gravy and fish chips peas n gravy.

On this evening, two days after a spontaneous inspiration to follow the Great Western Rail,  we scratch together tomorrow’s plan. Now familiar with country-wide public transit, we excitedly check options and connections. Eventually, deciding on the simplest fast intercities across the country. Back to London then take the East Anglia rail to Colchester, on route to Harwich and a ferry to Rotterdam. Week one is nearly done. Homeland visited: Tick. Catch ferry to Europe, sounds good.

[1] Great Western Railway, ‘Great Western Railway - Network Map’.
[2] ‘InterCity 125’.
[3] Hitt, ‘Welsh Rugby & Identity’
[4] ‘Swansea Castle’
[5] Royal National Lifeboats Institution, ‘The Mumbles Lifeboat Station - RNLI Lifeboat Stations’
[6] Royal National Lifeboats Institution, ‘Tamar Class Lifeboat’
[7] ‘Worcester Male Voice Choir - Gallery 2019’
[8] ‘Welsh Phonology’

References

Great Western Railway. ‘Great Western Railway - Network Map’, September 2024. https://www.gwr.com/.

Hitt, Carolyn. ‘Welsh Rugby & Identity’. This Is Wales. Accessed 19 May 2025. https://www.wales.com/culture-and-sport/sport/nation-built-rugby.

‘InterCity 125’. In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 19 April 2025. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=InterCity_125&oldid=1286421088.

Royal National Lifeboats Institution. ‘Tamar Class Lifeboat’, November 2022. https://rnli.org/what-we-do/lifeboats-and-stations/our-lifeboat-fleet/tamar-class-lifeboat.

———. ‘The Mumbles Lifeboat Station - RNLI Lifeboat Stations’, 28 April 2025. https://rnli.org/find-my-nearest/lifeboat-stations/the-mumbles-lifeboat-station.

‘Swansea Castle’. In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 16 December 2024. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Swansea_Castle&oldid=1263430325.

‘Welsh Phonology’. In Wikipedia The Free Encyclopedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 21 May 2025. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Welsh_phonology&oldid=1291519135.

‘Worcester Male Voice Choir - Gallery 2019’. Accessed 19 May 2025. https://www.worcestermalevoicechoir.org.uk/gallery-2019/.