The ground on which we stand

I was back on midweek duty this morning, celebrating the Eucharist at St Catherine's with eight others. Because of the readings, I took the opportunity to reflect with them on the church's ministry of healing, making use of the laying on of hands. It's struck me how important that is in this day and age when medical treatment is all narrowly specialised and organised around tests and procedures. It may indeed all be very effective, but the process reduces the case load to patient and procedure numbers. The whole person isn't treated, only presenting problems and symptoms. The best medicine is holistic and some of it happens in GP surgeries where a real effort is made to care for people, but even those generalist doctors are obliged to be a specialist some of their working time. It's right and good that the Christian community addresses sick people as whole persons first and last. Ministry of Unction and Laying on of Hands represents this affirmation.

At least the rain has been lighter this past few days, but colder. The wind has been occasionally gusty, making my daily walk a little challenging on times. I was amazed to see a ten foot long branch on the ground along the avenue of trees across Llandaff Fields, which had blown down overnight. What was unusual was that it had completely disintegrated into rotten fragments on hitting the ground. How the dead branch had stayed attached to the tree for so long without breaking off is remarkable. It fell over the touch line of one of the rugby pitches. If that had come down during a match, the consequences could have been tragic. I can't understand why Cardiff Council's parks department tree officers didn't notice it before. It could have been up there decomposing for several years since it died.

Down at Blackweir Bridge, the river management crew has been at work since Sunday removing tons of silt washed downstream by the floods. There are tons more silt in dark red tide marks at the edge of the lower field as well, and huge reddish silt stains in the upper field where flood waters reached. It must be rich with microscopic organisms, as flocks of crows, starlings and gulls spend a long time on the ground foraging. The soil of the flood plain is for the most part greyish in colour, as coastal rock strata are Jurassic / Liassic Limestone. The waters of the Taff pass through a gorge to entre the flood plain, part of a long rocky outcrop at the southern end of the South Wales Coalfield. The strata in this outcrop are various ages of sandstone, some blue Grey Pennant, but also Old Red Sandstone, which is darker in colour than the New Red tends to be. It's fascinating. In the countryside on both sides of the city flood plain the soil tends to be red, reflecting what's in the rock below. The variety is fascinating. My Grandpa Kimber taught me all about local geology when I was still in Primary School, and for this lifelong interest I'm indebted to him.

Deaths in the family

This afternoon, I drove to the Ermita San Pascual de Baylon to collect some specs left there at last Sunday's Eucharist by Duncan, ready to taken them to him tomorrow at the Aljambra service. Then I walked up the hill behind the church look at the hamlet of Enmedio d'Agua from a different angle, and take a few pictures. Particularly striking are the exposed rock faces whose grey, orange, red and yellow layers, sometimes vertical, other times horizontal, are striped like a candy bar. Then I drove

along the winding coast road in the direction of Carboneras for several kilometres, taking advantage of the lack of road traffic to stop and take photos of the surrounding mountains, bathed in the light of the setting sun, plus some larger rock faces, similarly striped. I wish I understood the geology better. This is a rock face I spotted last year, driving along the road 50 metres higher up. I'm glad that I got around to snapping it.

Up at the top of the pass which overlooks Carboneras bay, still another 10km away, I stopped to admire the view, and spotted several swifts, taking advantage of the thermal air currents generated by the afternoon sun on the 100m rock face below. I've seen very few swifts around during my stay here, yet I do remember seeing them in the very same spot here last year so there may be something about this locality, like a good supply of flying insects which keeps them here.

When we talked in the evening, Clare told me she'd heard of two deaths among her relatives. Stella an older second cousin at 101, and Dorothy, wife of cousin John of at 83. We've been sending our annual newsletter and a Christmas card to Stella since we were married, though I don't ever recall meeting her. John and Dorothy we kept up with at family gatherings however. John, a Presbyterian missionary in Africa who became an Anglican priest, stood in for me for a short while when I was about to leave Monaco after my ministry there had been rejected. 

Dorothy was for many years active in the leadership of the Mothers' Union in Wakefield diocese, and they visited us in Cardiff on one of their holiday treks around the country, visiting family and friends after they retired and were still mobile, despite Dorothy being disabled by a stroke. Neither Clare nor I can make the funeral, but there'll be a Memorial Service on 15th December in Northowram Parish church, which was where they both spent many years in ministry. May she rest in peace.

Shoreline reminiscence

This morning I drove Clare to her study group in Dinas Powis, then drove to Penarth, for a walk on the foreshore from the path at the end of the barrage. It's an unusual beach, interesting due to the geological strata in the cliffs above. In some places marl layers take a grey or green colour due to differences in the minerals leached by water out of deeper rock strata. But red limestone beds of crumbly stone of the Upper Triassic era predominate, shot through with layers of pink alabaster. Said to be one of the largest deposits of its kind in this particular stratum of rock.

This beach is one of the most popular places in South Wales for fossil hunters, with a variety of marine creatures caught long ago as they died and sank to a sandy seabed, which turned to stone thousands of years later. I found a slab of rock with no fossil in it, but containing a perfect imprint of sea bed, as it looked when the sea went out and never returned, leaving the mixture of sediment and mineral rich water to dry out and solidify.

This place evokes lovely memories of time spent here three years ago with granddaughter Jasmine (8 at the time) and Rachel her mother. Jasmine was fascinated by the variety of colours and odd shapes in the pebbles. We found a few partial fossils, but nothing special. We came home with five kilos of stones, and she was most disconsolate that she wasn't allowed to take them back to Arizona in her luggage, so reluctantly she left them behind, and later we returned them to their home on the foreshore.

I understand this pink alabaster, much of which is far paler than the above sample, is a popular feature decorating local gardens. It's soft as alabaster goes, and tends to break up with attempts to carve it. It's a striking feature of this stretch of South Wales' Jurassic coastline.

After lunch, I drove Clare to the Heath hospital for another post operative eye check-up, then I returned home and walked around Pontcanna. Today, I picked up fourteen assorted items of rubbish, just six from the beach, including a five litre plastic 'can' washed up by the tide. I could have collected more, but hadn't taken a bag with me, maybe just as well, as I would have ended up being late, and not having time to enjoy the geology.

Day of amazing views

This morning, I drove out to Los Galliardos to meet Fr Alan and travel together to Aljambra for the Eucharist. It was great to have the company of a fellow priest for the day, as I did in Malaga with Doreen last month. There were sixteen of us for the commemoration of St Edward the Confessor, and the singing was again enthusiastic.

After the service, we were invited by Lay Reader Duncan and Jean his wife, to visit their place for lunch. The house is perched on top of a mountain to the east of the valley in which the village of Aljambra is situated. It's at the end of several kilometers of steep winding unmetalled road, quite a challenging drive, so Duncan took us there, plus friends John and Ann in his six seater four wheel. It's at roughly the same altitude as Mt Snowdon with wonderful views in all directions, down to the sea plain in the east and even higher mountains to the west, and north.

The track affords many remarkable views during the ascent, and winds through a fascinating range of geological strata from different eras exhibited in exposed rock faces. The soil is mostly pale grey soft slate, but there's also streaks pushing through of old sandstone, limestone and volcanic rock, all mixed in a chaotic way, evidence of a turbulent ancient history. How I wish I'd been in a position to study geology properly when I was young, after initiation into what underlies the landscape by my Grandpa John Kimber in childhood.

Duncan and Janet's house is called Nido del Aguila - Eagle's Nest - a natural choice, since there were golden eagles riding the thermals above the ridge on the day they first visited twelve years ago. The house is way off grid, self supporting, sustained by solar electricity and rainwater storage. It even has a terrace with a swimming pool! There's an adjoining old house that's been renovated by the Spanish landowner to which the modern one is attached. Such an impressive building project with all the logistic complexities this entails is a true labour of love for a retired civil engineer. It's a delight to all who visit. Best of all, as we were leaving, I spotted an eagle soaring high overhead and got this photo, which is better than I could have hoped for given the difficulty of scanning overhead with the 50x zoom of my Sony HX300.

After a splendid meal and conversation on the terrace, Duncan took us back downhill, though not to Aljambra where the car parked, but to Albox, to take the road north for our promised visit to the Sanctuario de Nuestra Señora de Saliente perched on a terrace high on a south facing mountainside beneath the peaks at the end of the 20km valley.

It's the principal locality for Marian devotional pilgrimage for the people of Albox, and has been recently renovated, receiving Papal recognition this year, for the third centenary of its foundation.

The site is referred to as a monasterio. There are many auxiliary buildings and a couple of cloisters. The church and sanctuary, however, is a larger version of the layout in many other Ermitas, with no monastic choir or presbytery, causing me to wonder if it ever had been run as a monastery.

As a place of pilgrimage offering hospitality, it may have been looked after by an 'active' religious community of men or women. Evidently, Mass is being said there regularly, no doubt baptisms and weddings as well. New signage as you enter the domain from the parking lot calls it a 'hospederia', a place to stay. Auxiliary buildings attached to the church have been restored to provide modern accommodation and there's a restaurant on a lower terrace with amazing views. We called in for a drink, and the proprietors greeted Duncan with delight. They're his hill top neighbours although for them it's a second home.

Again the valley soil here pale grey, almost white in places and orchards of almond trees pattern the landscape. Tree trunks are either blackened by flame or painted with a product (I don't know which) for protection from pests. At the moment, leaves are yellowing or have fallen, but across the end of the year, the valley will be transformed by pink and white almond blossom. I wish I could be here to see that.

As there'd been thunder and rain an hour or so before dawn, the morning was overcast, but clouds began to lift by the time we set out for Saliente, so we were fortunate to enjoy a sunny afternoon under cloud decorated skies. I'm just so glad to have been told about this place, and being taken there by Duncan. So nice not to have to drive, to be able to take photos on the move. I only posted one that was shaky and out of focus, just to show how amazing it is to look up to the destination from the pilgrims' way. People walk the 20km from Albox, and there's a stepped pathway that climbs up the last fifty metres elevation, for those who want to walk up, or go on their knees. Our visit was all too brief, as we all needed to get home before dark (or the Archers in my case), but there are more photos to look at here.