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Lunar Presence Reflections from a month-long engagement with the River Ogmore

Tracy Breathnach phd

An Introduction I have stayed close to home most of this year. I have become more intimate with the river Ogmore, which runs past my house. I visited the river every day for a moon cycle this autumn, from the source at the top of the Bwlch mountain down through the Ogmore Valley, through Brynmenyn, Sarn, the edge of Penyfai, past Litchard, Wildmill, Bridgend town centre, Newbridge fields, Merthyr Mawr and out into the estuary at Ogmore by Sea. I tracked the river along with my menstrual cycle. This ‘attending’, this ‘showing up’ each day or most days was a way of resourcing myself. I brought small clay offerings and discovered gifts each time. Nature is ever-giving, ever-present. Each time I go to the river I receive more and more of myself. Alongside my daily visits, I have met with people who have experienced birth or a bereavement this year - walking and talking, moving together at times. I have witnessed stories of grief, of hearts and worlds breaking open, of being stripped bare, of being alone, of being afraid, of being alive. On the final day of the cycle, on the Libra New Moon, I created a ritual performance on the estuary at Ogmore by Sea. Using the form of Authentic Movement, I step into the familiar space of not knowing, of moving from impulse, of staying in my body, of opening and feeling everything. The sun is shining and the wind is blowing. I am not alone and I am so grateful for this. I hear their voices as I listen to the river rushing to meet the sea. The sand is cool against my skin. I’m twisting and reaching and grabbing. There is so much effort, it is exhausting. I’m standing and I feel the light on my face. I feel light. I am light. There is a sensation of dissolving around the harder tissue outside my heart - loosening, softening, opening. The wind blows through me. My hair is blowing in the wind. It travels in the same direction as the river. Towards the sea. Lunar Presence is part of a wider project called Here Now Yma Nawr, which I undertook throughout Autumn 2020, gratefully funded by Arts Council Wales. Tracy Breathnach, November 2020 www.tracybreathnach.com 2

17/9/20 Day 1 Cycle Day 22 New Moon in Virgo

Bwlch Mountain, the source of the River Ogmore We didn’t know exactly where we needed to go. I’d rung a friend who had also looked for it but had never found it. The boys are in the car helping to scout for me. ‘It’s got to be that field there’ I pointed as we passed the peak. I park the car clinging to the edge of the road. We put on our wellies and set out with our little clay pot offering and a camera to take the photo. ‘Don’t run’ I tell my youngest as I help him to put on his boots. ‘The ground will be uneven. And don’t get your school trousers muddy, they’re the last pair of clean ones.’ He is gone by the time I finished speaking. I lock the car to the sound of his wailing. He’s fallen and somehow managed to get muddy everywhere. My eldest is off ranging. He’s naturally intuitive in wild places. I’m sure most humans probably all are, it’s just that we don’t all get to BE in wild places. He follows the ridge along. I spot a large tuft of green reeds. I ask my youngest what the reeds tell us. ‘Water must be there’ he said, in his best young Padawan voice. The reed bed is completely dry though. It’s been gloriously hot these past few days. Maybe the spring itself might have dried up. Were we even in the right field? We carry on. A bunch of sheep lead us to another reed patch. Still no water. ‘I’m looking for rocks’ says the eldest. ‘Yeah, good idea’ I say, guessing that perhaps a spring would emerge where there is a rocky outcrop. We are following our senses, following the dark green patches in the otherwise brown tufty grass. A tiny patch of buttercups. Must be water under here we say to each other. We spot a rock and stop. Still no spring. ‘Well this is as good a guess as any’ I say, ‘let’s leave our offering here’. I place the tiny terracotta pot on the grass next to the rock. A small weft of sheep’s wool. We exchange. This seems like a good idea. I’ll offer and receive. I can do this in each location. A marker of our co-mingling. The eldest has drifted away. The youngest wants to know what I’m doing and why. ‘It’s art’ seems the quickest answer, which leads him into a whole speech about what art is and what art is not and that he doesn’t want both his parents to be artists…. We are winding back down. An old spade in the grass. A stick. Another rock with a space underneath. ‘Anything there?’ I ask as they both peer under. ‘Nothing.’

18/9/2020 Day 2 Cycle Day 23

Waterfall on the Bwlch I make the turn off the small roundabout in Nantymoel onto the mountain road and the tears start. I’d been keeping them at bay all morning rushing around on the school run. I notice how grouchy and snappy I was with my youngest. It’s easy at times like this to take things personally, to feel like he is talking incessantly, demanding my attention just to ‘get to me’. I know it's not true and this morning I could see that my heart was feeling so tender that my snapping was an attempt to protect it. From who? From what? As a child I would hear the adults around me say things like ‘God give me patience’ in such situations, or even call out to ‘Jesus, Mary and holy saint Joseph’ to give them the resource they needed to deal with the behaviour. Crying helps to keep my awareness in my heart, the sensation of spreading across my heart and chest, softening, opening. I park the car on the first bend as you head up the Bwlch and walk to the first place where the Ogmore emerges down the mountain. This is a spot we’ve come to often. The river is fairly dry today – trickles of water here and there running off the rocks. I follow the flow upwards and wonder how far up I can walk. I clamber up wondering where I might place the pot. I step into the dry riverbed and see a tiny ledge under a trickle of water. There is a small stone on the ledge. I exchange my pot for the stone. I look up to the top of the slope, then look down again, my neck and my head following the pathway the river takes. I clasp the stone in my hand and descend the grassy slope, weaving down around the sharp bend to the car. I’m glad to have left the pot. It brings a release somehow. As I turn the car around the sun shines directly in my eyes for a second and I’m dazzled. I shut my eyes while I adjust my position. I can still see the brightness with my eyes closed.

19/9/2020 Day 3 Cycle Day 24

Nantymoel Forest We park in the layby on the sharp bend and walk down the forest road. My youngest is with me. He is an adventurer at heart and loves the fact that we are searching for the river now. We spot a small pool down the cliff and decide it’s too dangerous to climb down so we walk along the gravel path that leads us into the forest. Keeping an eye on the river down the steep hill to our left, I’m wondering if we will even be able to get close to the river today. A new path to our left appears and it slopes downwards. This must be it. It is very unsteady underfoot and we hold hands much of the way. He’s helping me not to fall. Our relationship has changed in this way. He’s five and doesn’t really want to be helped with anything anymore, so he creates these new stories where he is helping me We can hear the river and whoop with excitement. A rusty bridge appears - we have reached the ground level of the forest. We go to the right of the bridge and enter the river. He’s hunting around for a good spot to place our little pot. ‘How about over here?’ as he reaches the other side and gets tangled in a bramble. ‘How about here?’ I ask. He agrees. I’ve spotted the top of a coffee cup. I place my pot next to it and take the photo, then offer my prayers and take the plastic top away, leaving the small clay pot.Our journey back is slow. Uphill. All the way. Stopping. Waiting. He is gathering stones. And some sticks. I’m carrying some of the sticks. I find a small pine stick to make a present with for a friend. A small feather draws my eyes and I pick it up. It slots nicely into the lid of the coffee cup. We arrive at the car with our hands and our pockets full. Hot and thirsty.

20/9/2020 Day 4 Cycle Day 25

The Planka, Nantymoel Today is the first location I can walk to from my house. The first time I visited was only a week ago as part of the local Walk & Talk group organised by the inspirational mental health speaker Mark Williams, who also lives in the valley. The Planka is a big recreational field for the community and the river cannot be seen – it flows underground at this point. I’m not sure whether this was intentionally redirected, or that’s simply the natural path it took. But it’s curious to be visiting the river when I know I am definitely not going to see it today. As I walk down onto the field, I wonder what am I looking for in a sense? Two rabbits dash into the hedge to my left. My body leads the way through my senses. If I listen to my inner body there is also a sense of something saying ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ It’s in my sensations. I reach the spot where the rabbits disappeared and wait for another moment of knowing. A tiny acorn. I look up and find myself under a beautiful big oak tree laden with acorns. Such richness. I place my pot next to the acorn and take the photo that marks the moment of exchange, then place the acorn in my pocket. Once I rejoin the cycle path I can hear the river again. I am filled with the sound of the river as it re-emerges from underground. The sound fills my listening field as I walk back. I love this valley.

21/9/2020 Day 5 Cycle Day 26

The Heron’s nest, Ogmore Vale I don’t know exactly where I’m going today, but I am looking for something specific. A heron’s nest. Or two, if I’m lucky. Mark told us on our walk last week that they nest around here. I’d heard recently there are two nesting pairs, both with fledgelings. It makes my heart burst open knowing this. It’s the same feeling that I get when I see or hear a heron. When we moved to the valley last year, I occasionally spotted one flying over the river by our house. And in the winter after heavy rainfall my youngest spotted one on the rugby pitch stomping around in the puddles. More recently, I’ve been walking at dawn and dusk to the bends on the river as this seems to be where they stop to fish. I saw her one night. As I make out her still shape in the fading light, she jumps upwards and then, and this always makes me gasp, her wings come up and out and for a moment I wonder if she will be able to lift herself up, and she always does, and I am always amazed! A few nights ago, it was already dark when I went for my walk, so I resigned my heart to not seeing her and then I heard the screech! There she was again. I’m walking along the path and my neck is craning back, my eyes scanning the tops of the tall trees. Surely a heron’s nest must be pretty big to hold a bird of that size. I don’t see one. Then another bird calls me. A magpie. I look around to find him at the top of a thin beech tree. That’s the spot, I think. Below the tree there are some rocks I can climb down to get close to the river. I wait for another impulse towards an object. I spot something on a stick, paper perhaps. I go to pick it up and realise it’s a used sanitary towel. I pause. My mind gets involved. Do I pick it up? I have a tissue I could wrap it in. But then it will sit on my fireplace for the next three weeks. I decide it’s a bit too full-on to bring into my home, so I take a photo and wait for another object. A small white footshaped piece of polystyrene.

22/9/2020 Day 6 Cycle Day 27

Off the cycle track Ogmore Vale towards Blackmill I head out the back of my house onto the cycle path towards Blackmill - it’s been newly resurfaced and the boys love cycling here. It’s a busy path, filled with people from the local community and cyclists passing through. It travels along a beautiful native woodland at the bottom of Dimbath Forest, which has the more common forestry commission evergreen of the valleys. I know where I am going today. I will offer my pot to the river at the point we walk to most often. It’s the spot I come to when I need to put my feet into running water. The point I come to when I need the sound of water to be louder than my thoughts. The river level is low. A small shower has started, but as it’s been so dry this past week, it shows on the stony riverbed. I listen and wait. I walk slowly along the river edge. I notice that many leaves have fallen into the water. Like with the acorn, seeing the leaves brings my attention upwards to meet the trees which hang over. Oak, Beech, Ash. It will be a leaf I know. Which one? I wait again and the colour of an ash leaf draws my attention towards it. It’s a similar brown to the clay pot. I place the pot next to it. My heart softens when I notice how the shape of the leaf spoons round the pot. I take a moment to project myself onto the pot and welcome the sense of being held behind me. I feel my own tenderness. I thank the leaf and pick it up, twirling the stem in my hand as I walk home again.

23/9/2020 Day 7 Cycle Day 28

Blackmill I walk over the small bridge and wonder if I can drop the pot somewhere close by. I’m feeling irritable. I see the path to my left and know I have to walk. It ends up being more of a stomp. To my left I can hear the river, but I’m separated by a thick rusty iron mesh barrier and deep folds of brambles. How far am I going to have to walk before I can get close? A tiny gap in the hedge. A way to the river. I drop off the cycle path and I crouch to get through trees and undergrowth. I reach the river although I can’t get down to it. I squat down and take a breath. Something in my diaphragm clicks. I feel a tiny stream of sensation flood upwards. I breathe again. I see an empty wine bottle. It’s out of reach. Then a tiny flicker of soft white near my feet. A small, scrunched feather. I place the pot next to it and make the exchange. A heavy sigh emerges from my belly and chest. I stand up and make my way back to the path. I can feel the fiery anger now. Maybe even fury or rage. A pair of bulldogs come and sniff me. I growl back. A runner appears unannounced from behind. Startled, my jaw and fist clench. I’m clasping my fingers so tightly round the feather that my nails are digging into my palm.

24/9/2020 Day 8 Cycle Day 29

Brynmenyn, River Garw tributary There’s an interesting network of little streams further down the cycle path from Blackmill when I look at a map. And if it wasn’t pissing down then I would have walked there. As it is I’m already wet, my body is feeling more pre-menstrual tension as my cycle stretches out and I just want to get it done today. I park on the turn off towards Bryngarw and cross the road at the bridge. The smaller Garw river is running underground here. I follow it along a path and I can hear the Ogmore as we approach it. I stand over the river at the point where the Garw floods in. I’m surprised at how much wider the river has become here. I can’t reach the river unless I walk further along. I’m not in the mood today. So, I find an object nearby and leave my pot. As I leave, a dog walker comes and stops in the same spot. Perhaps this is a kind of destination point for people who just need a glimpse of the water.

25/9/2020 Day 9 Cycle Day 30

Llansantffraid Church I head for the next confluence, where the River Llynfi enters the Ogmore. When I look at the map, I notice it's next to St Brides Minor church, Llansantffraid, or St Brigid. This feels really special as Brigid is our patron saint in Ireland and I speak with her very often. In the past I have popped down to St Brides Major and sat in the grounds of the church there, and when I have more time I pop up to Llansantffraid near Crickhowell in the Brecon Beacons. I get to the church grounds in the sunshine. The small road down is tucked away and dotted with expensive houses. I pass some retired adults walking their dogs, walking each other. The church, of course is closed due to the pandemic so I wander round the graveyard. My youngest is with me and he’s very excited. He can’t remember ever being in a graveyard before and is full of questions. ‘What happens to our bodies when we die?’ ‘Who is in this one here?’ ‘What about this one’ ‘Why is that stone fallen down?’ ‘Why does that one have a big lump of earth and grass?’. The mood is light and playful. I hear the traffic whizzing by on the dual carriageway a mere 100m away. It feels like we are in another world. ‘Look at these!’ He’s found some crab apples, ‘Can we take one?’ I agree on the condition that we leave a little pot here in exchange. It wasn’t where I planned to leave one today but given part of this project is contemplating life and death this feels like an anchor point. He sets up the photo, then runs off with the apple.

26/9/2020 Day 10 Cycle Day 1

Confluence with River Llynfi I’m back at St Bride’s Minor. Today, I’m alone and I walk past the church and down to the river’s edge. There is a Y-shape in the water as the Llynfi and the Ogmore come together, although I suppose in river terms I should say the Llynfi comes into the Ogmore. I enjoy watching the confluence. There’s an excitement from both rivers as they approach each other - the water runs fast and bubbles. Then at the meeting point there is a quickening and a gushing on the far side of the riverbed. But the section of water next to me is completely still and is flowing backwards. I enjoy sitting with the movement and the stillness. I am glad to have both. I connect to my own womb as it opens and releases and feel a deep rootedness in my tailbone, stretching down into the earth. I connect to a sense of me, here now. Before I leave, I find the outer shell of a beech nut and make the swap. I look down the river and sense how it changes from here on. It will move towards the town now, growing wider and deeper. I have a sense of momentum in my cells watching it go on its way.

27/9/2020 Day 11 Cycle Day 2

Under the M4 Iâ€™ve parked in a small layby under the M4 bridge. I feel slightly uneasy as I get out of the car. It's something about edge places, no residents, not much passing traffic. Who comes here, I wonder as I notice two cars parked at the edge of the road. I find a small path at the side of a bridge that takes me down to the river. It flows quietly, peacefully this afternoon. I appreciate the design of the bridge and briefly wonder who built it before I notice thereâ€™s someone on the bridge looking down at me. Without thinking I pat my pockets for my phone and my car keys. I noticed the object when I first came down, a thin empty plastic wrapper from cigarette filters. I quickly scan the ground to see if anything else presents itself. Nothing. I place the pot next to the wrapper, take the snap and leave quickly.

28/9/2020 Day 12 Cycle Day 3

Across the M4 to Wildmill I’ve crossed over the M4 today. It marks the centre of the county from north to south. I’ve also crossed to the other side of the river – yesterday on the west, today I’m on the east. I’m headed for Wildmill. Another mill. I wonder if there was an old mill here? I’ve only once driven through Wildmill but I write about it often when I’m doing funding applications for Bridgend Town Council as it is the most deprived ward in the town and one of the most deprived in the county. I experience this immediately when I drive past the houses which are small and cheaply built with flat roofs. I grew up in a council house without heating and for a time without a bathroom, toilet only. In recent years I have noticed how my body feels different when I am in substantially-built houses compared to houses built with paper thin walls, cheap fixtures and flooring. In the former I feel more solidity in my body. I feel more supported by the solidness in the materials around me. I feel safer. I park the car on River Road and walk along in the rain. The river runs down below the wall. I won’t be able to get down to it from here. I stop and watch a pair of ducks happily swimming upriver. Underfoot is a smattering of acorns, a beautiful oak and then a beech standing overhead. I come to an area with some metal benches. I wonder who last sat down here. I notice a twist of twine on the wall and it seems obvious that is the object. I place my pot on the wall and wonder about the rightness of this. Am I intruding? Am I vandalising? Leaving these little pots everywhere. I remind myself that the material is natural, that it will disintegrate, that no-one will probably notice it, and that if they do they might like it, it might make someone curious, ask a question, ‘I wonder…’

29/9/2020 Day 13 Cycle Day 4

The Pedestrian Bridge I retrace my drive through Wildmill, down Quarella Road, passing the Mental Health clinic that I never knew was there. It’s a leafy road and I can hear the river to my right. I park in the old Tesco’s car park and walk onto the top pedestrian bridge – it used to be an exit route for cars, but it’s been blocked off now. It’s sunny and the river is gurgling along. I look upriver and smile. Gorgeous green broadleaf trees hanging over the water. It’s lush here. I notice that there are tiny padlocks tied to the side of the bridge. Lots of them. And some coloured ribbons too. Something to do with suicide awareness I wonder? I’d never heard about it before. I spot a bottle top and do my exchange. I notice a rainbow painted on the path and take a photo of that too. As I leave, I look downriver and I gasp slightly at the difference. Why do I feel so differently looking in opposite directions off the bridge? I look up and down a few times and notice how the trees disappear as the river enters the town at this point. And the defence wall has begun. Like a huge gash in the riverbed.

30/9/2020 Day 14 Cycle Day 5

Back to the Bridge I come back to the same bridge today. My youngest wanted to know what bridge I went to. I spoke to a friend from the town last night and she thought maybe the padlocks were from pairs of lovers, which apparently they do on the Seine in Paris. It's not quite the same here in the Tesco car park in Bridgend. And the metaphor of using a padlock to represent a healthy relationship is lost on me too. The pot I left yesterday is gone. It’s been raining and the river is higher, muddy brown with all the restless soil. I notice another bag of rubbish to my right which wasn’t there yesterday. Loads of old DVDs spilling towards the riverbank. We look for an object that we can swap. Lots of dead leaves. We find a brown sycamore leaf on the railing. My youngest doesn’t want me to leave the pot there in case it falls. I remind him that it’s ok if it falls. It’s part of the game I tell him. A stranger passes us as we take the photo. “Don’t do it” he says smiling “river’s still not high enough for us” he laughs “probably ok for a child though.” The suicidal joke goes over my son’s head as a sycamore leaf swirls from the tree into the swirling brown water below us.

1/10/2020 Day 15 Cycle Day 6 Full Moon in Aries

Reaching the Beach I’m half-way through the cycle today. I was going to return to the town centre but the full moon energy lifts me and we drive to the beach instead - the place where the river will emerge into the sea eventually. We are crossing county lines to come to the beach, which is more in my awareness with local lockdown restrictions. “It’s for work” I tell the boys, in case they tell anyone we went to this beach. The beach is empty apart from a fisherman standing in his waders in the estuary itself. My youngest is running around on the sand with me. I walk along the river edge looking for the place to put the pot. I stop where the river widens to become the tidal line. I see a white feather and I make the swap. Within a few seconds a big wave has swooped in and knocked the little pot over. We whoop with surprise and run back to the car.

2/10/2020 Day 16 Cycle Day 7

Embassy Bridge I knew I wanted to come to this bridge as it was part of a heritage project I managed in the town a couple of years ago marking the role that Bridgend played in World War 2. We had explored putting metal cut outs of a spitfire and a submarine on the railings here, but we couldnâ€™t get it through planning. Quite by accident one of the mock-ups looked as though the submarine was on the wall opposite the railings and everyone loved it. So, there it is now, a mural of a 3m U-class submarine called the HMS Urge, paid for by the people of Bridgend. When the river is high the water mark comes up to the bottom of the painting, as though itâ€™s floating. I wonder if I will ever get to see it fully submerged?

3/10/2020 Day 17 Cycle Day 8

The Rhiw Carpark This hotly contested car park plays an important role for town centre trading. Opposite from Evergreen Hall, a charity for older people that I supported through a period of development a few years ago. The members, mostly aged over 70, were still unhappy their parking spaces had been taken away next to the hall and the spaces in the Rhiw carpark were too narrow to park easily. They reminded me every time I met them! Today I look over the defence wall and find a fisherman in the river. I wonder if they catch any fish in the town centre. The river is relatively low today. I spot a small broken piece of frosted perspex on the wall. I place the pot next to it and as soon as I have taken the photo the wind has blown it off. I leave it there on the ground. Is this littering?

4/10/2020 Day 18 Cycle Day 9

Newbridge Fields I emerge from the walled-river zone and meet the lush green trees that announce the beginning of Newbridge Fields – the town’s generously sized recreation field. There are 3 bridges that cross the river here. The first one is a narrow footbridge that takes you over towards St Mary’s church, past the spot that is used by local drug-users, where local residents complain of finding needles. The river is bulging today, filled with the rainwater that has been falling this last few days.

5/10/2020 Day 19 Cycle Day 10

Newbridge Fields & Gorsedd Stone Circle I spot a squirrel under one of the giant oaks and I follow him along. He scampers away, leaving me to find a thick carpet of acorns. I clamber down to the river edge and reach my hand into the fast running flow. This is one of the spots we see teenagers jumping in during the warmer months. The swirling patterns mesmerise me. I feel my energy pulled towards the darkness of the riverâ€™s depth. I look around my feet and canâ€™t see any objects here - some mugwort, all dried out, but still attached to the plant so I decide not to take this. I climb back up under the oak tree and settle on a single acorn from the many. Across the way, I spot the Gorsedd stone circle, built fairly recently when the Eisteddfod came to town. Used now by families playing hide and seek. It was also the setting for the recent Black Lives Matter peaceful rally.

6/10/2020 Day 20 Cycle Day 11

Return to Newbridge Fields I walk into the large field today. The rain has abated. There is a spot that marks the corner of the field where the river bends on a right angle. A tiny sandy river-beach that we often stop to throw stones in. I love watching how the river changes shape so easily at this pointâ€Ś.the body of water that was going along in a fairly straight or gently curving line, swings left suddenly and the current adjusts itself within a few metres to find its new straight path. There are some giant mushrooms growing out of the incredibly tall sycamore tree. A green and yellow leaf lies on top. We swap.

7/10/2020 Day 21 Cycle Day 12

Flotsom in Newbridge Fields Another walk to the fields. More squirrels and rugs of acorns. I am pulled to a spot where I can see the river clearly. I notice objects racing along on the fast current. Polystyrene, wood, a box. I try to grab my phone to take a picture, but they pass too quickly. By my foot is a small white feather. I mark my stopping by leaving a pot here today. I wonder what the squirrels will make of it.

8/10/2020 Day 22 Cycle Day 13

Newbridge Fields and beyond I’ve come to the last stretch of grass beyond the fields towards the speedy A48. Before crossing over via the underground tunnel, I nip in through the trees on my right and come to the edge of the river. I climb down onto a huge tree trunk and notice a line of barbed wire tied around the trunk. Around the barbs are bunches of old sheep’s wool, discoloured and matted. I remember the first day of this cycle and the sheep’s wool up on the mountain. Once more I take a small pinch of it and leave my pot as an offering. What am I offering?

9/10/2020 Day 23 Cycle Day 14

The Dipping Bridge, Merthyr Mawr It started lashing before I set out this morning but by the time I reach the river it has stopped. Today I’m by the Dipping Bridge at the edge of Merthyr Mawr - one of the most idyllic parts of the county. Obviously designed for farmers to throw their sheep off for a ‘dip’ it is mostly used by teenage boys to jump off in the Summer. Gangs of young people sit around half naked in the sunshine bathing in the heat and the hormones. I wish we’d had somewhere like that growing up – I lived next to the sea so we did have water, but it was in a village so it was too public. Here, they can get away from the censorship of adults' eyes. I enjoy looking at the stone arches under the bridge. Once again, the river is high and fast and muddy brown. It is also becoming wider at this point.

10/10/2020 Day 24 Cycle Day 15

Heron at Merthyr Mawr We take the narrow road down towards Merthyr Mawr village. “Look out the window boys” I say as we peer out through the steamy windows. It’s raining again. We approach a bridge. “This must be it, can you see it?” Yes, they both chime. We cross over, find a spot to turn around again and double-back on ourselves. I find a narrow verge of grass to tuck into. “Ok we have to be quick” I say. My youngest, and most loyal companion in this art-adventure pulls on his boots and jumps out with me. We walk onto the bridge. As we do so a dark grey heron flies in front of us. “Oh” I sigh. Ever awed by the majestic bird, I am sure that I am in the right spot today. We can’t get down to the river, all privately owned land here. So we scan the walls of the bridge. Everything is so clean and ordered here, but we spot a couple of tiny pebbles. We make our swap and run back to the car.

11/10/2020 Day 25 Cycle Day 16

The Swing Bridge, Merthyr Mawr I head for the Swing Bridge today- it’s one of those that wobbles as you walk or jump across it! On the way, I drive over the bridge where we left the pot yesterday and look to see if it’s still there. It’s not, but in almost the exact spot is a navy blue cap! I imagine that someone else is now playing the game with us, swapping the pot for their hat… I walk under the Swing bridge and I am surrounded by bright objects – pink swimming goggles, the back of a wooden chair, a blue trainer, an old leather belt…spoiled for choice today! My eye reaches towards a small piece of ceramic. This is the one. Old pottery for new. I’m on my own today, and there’s no rush so I stand and listen to the depth of the flow. I close my eyes and the sound rushes over my skin. My hips start to sway. When I open my eyes, I notice the rhythm of my swaying matches the pace of the river. I feel the strength in my hips and pelvis. I notice the softness of my flesh between my hips. Bones and soft tissue. Riverbanks and soft river. I am fluid.

12/10/2020 Day 26 Cycle Day 17

The Stepping Stones, Ewenny River I always thought the Stepping Stones next to Ogmore Castle were in the Ogmore river until I looked at the map this morning, but it’s the Ewenny! I go there anyway today. They are such an incredible part of the riverscape I can’t not include them. When I got married to a Bridgend man 15 years ago we came down here after the ceremony. He carried me over the steps. Today I’m on my own and I can’t get past the first step as the river is so high. Just under the surface of the water running over the second step there is a brown leaf. Submerged. I swap it for my pot and wonder how quickly it might disintegrate in this flow. As I walk back to the car I think of Bryan Shambler, the very talented local watercolour artist who died this Summer. He is well-known for his paintings of this landscape - we were given one as a wedding gift in fact. I think of other artists I know who have engaged deeply in places and I am glad for their work. I look down river as the Ewenny takes her last few hundred metres in her own name before she will join the Ogmore, carrying a pair of swans.

13/10/2020 Day 27 Cycle Day 18

Waterplant I want to get to the point where the two rivers meet but I can’t access it from the road – if I’d walked along the path on the edge of the sand dunes I might have had a closer view. Instead I settle for a small patch of hedgerow to the side of the entrance to the Dwr Cymru waterplant. I look over the field with horses from the riding school and I spot the pair of rivers merging. I’m still wondering who decides which river gets to keep its name – why is the Ewenny a tributary of the Ogmore? I’m sure there’s geographical logic to it, I just don’t know it. I colour match the terracotta of the clay with a leaf on the grass.

14/10/2020 Day 28 Cycle Day 19

On the road towards Ogmore by Sea The car park is sealed off. It's been full of huge potholes so maybe they’re going to repair it. Or perhaps it’s another measure to deter people from mingling. I pull onto the grass verge in the layby and hop across to the river. The river is low enough today, revealing a good few metres of clay-covered stones. I pick my way across them slowly to avoid slipping. I am by a small weir and upriver there is an orchestra of birds gathered – swans, ducks, gulls, geese, more of whom are still arriving at the party. I realise that the water must slow at this point before it drops over the weir which makes it a perfect location for fishing. I turn downriver and tiptoe along the edge of the water, eyes down on the allgrey surface scanning for something that I don’t know yet. After a minute or two I spot it. A large ring. When I pick it up, I realise it’s green glass covered in clay. I rinse it off in a small pool next to me. I hold it up and look through it. I look backwards from where I’ve come, and I turn to look ahead in the direction I’m travelling. I can hear the sea from here.

15/10/2020 Day 29 Cycle Day 20

Ogmore Estuary I’m at the estuary. I can see the sea and the river running into it, but I head back upriver for my final exchange. I notice a huge shift in my awareness now that the horizon is visible to me. I sense the space all around my body. I feel myself expanding both inside my chest and outside. It’s harder to focus my eyes, so I keep soft focus and drift along. I pass a fisherman in the river, then notice something glistening by the water. A tiny fish! It’s got a hook in its back and a swivel on top. It’s a piece of tackle. Having grown up as the daughter of a line of fishermen I have attached many such creatures to fishing rods during long Summers. It’s squidgy to touch. As I look at the hook in its back I remember a dream I had last night – where I had lots of hooks in my back, tied to leather ropes, held by some overweight, pompous king who’d caught me with his ‘fishing line’. He was laughing at me as I tried to escape him. I shudder now as the points on my back where the hooks were attached come alive. Before I leave, I spend a long time alternating between looking upriver and out to sea. This is my last day on this cycle with the river. New moon tomorrow. I’ll reach the sea.

Design & Layout by Rosie McConell