Ladies and Gentlemen, I welcome you back once more, as my journey continued along the winding lifeblood of the Nant-Yr-Aber this time behind the familiar outlines of Gallagher Retail Park in Caerphilly. The stretch began quietly enough. The river here narrows, hugged close by concrete walls and forgotten fencing, its flow weaving behind the Aldi store where very few people ever bother to look. But I did. And I stepped into the water once more unsure, but compelled.
A Rising Reality
I hadn’t walked far when things changed. The air shifted, and the river rose. Within a few short hours, what had been passable terrain had become deeply unstable. The water levels surged, rising rapidly and with force. I had to exit the river sooner than expected not because I wanted to but because the risk grew too sharp to ignore. That was the first-hand moment I realised just how volatile these waterways have become. We often speak of change in theory slow shifts in levels or weather but this wasn’t theory. This was immediate. This was now.
Debris & Quiet Clues
Before I left the riverbed, I took note of what the water carried with it. The debris was deeply familiar: clipped hedge trimmings, grass clumps, children’s plastic toys, even the occasional household container. Things once kept in tidy gardens and domestic corners now tumbling through the current like forgotten memories. But perhaps most telling was the embankment itself. Unlike other areas, here it was largely intact. Strong. Stable. Holding on. And yet... that strength meant little when faced with rising forces and neglect.
A Moment to Acknowledge
There is something humbling in witnessing strength on the edge of surrender. That embankment, at the time, was in good condition—perhaps the best I’d seen along the Nant-Yr-Aber. But the message wasn’t one of safety. It was one of fragility, of potential change if no further action is taken. A good embankment today doesn’t mean a healthy waterway tomorrow. Without continued care, without regular observation, even the strongest points will eventually give way not just to water, but to indifference.
Reflection at the Exit Point
I left the river reluctantly, soaked and unsettled. Not because I feared the water, but because I felt it speak. It showed me what a few hours can do. What a season might do. And what a decade of inaction will certainly do. I didn’t go out that day searching for drama. But what I found was evidence of ticking change quiet erosion not just of land, but of our attention. This log stands as a small warning. A note in time. The river still holds. But it may not for long not if we wait to act until it's already too late.
Ladies and Gentlemen, until the next time... Take care.
Michael “Druid” Thomas
Lunacare Cymru | Media - Blog
