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| Copyright © Mark Kelly 2025. |
For me there are two such stand-out moments of 2024 - one in the cold, wintery beginning of the year, and the second during the sunny Spring.
Both took place whilst I walked, Chica, one of our Spanish rescue dogs, along the footpath that runs parallel with the local river (River Ely) that cuts through Talbot Green and into Pontyclun. It's a lovely walk that takes you past houses at various points with a small field in between. Great for dog walkers, joggers, or folks taking a stroll.
#1: JANUARY 2024.
I was due in work for an early shift at the hospital starting at 0700hrs, and as my way when on an early shift, woke up at 0500hrs to take the dogs for their individual walks to start the day. I headed down towards the river path with Chica, her harness fitted with the usual reflective-flashing light strips, and my pocket torch fully charged.
We strolled past the row of houses that faced towards the river along the tarmac footpath, the trees and bushes to our right muting the sound of the flowing river at the bottom of the steep embankment, but even that didn't block the sound of the river's fast flowing caused by the previous night's rainfall.
Chica and I approached the pitch-black underpass. No public lighting, so the torch was put to use.
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| Copyright © Mark Kelly 2025. |
Instantly I see something on our path ahead. Closer inspection reveals it to be a local store shopping trolley, the kind and size that would allow an adult to sit comfortably inside it.
*The photo above, X marks where trolley was dumped.*
My mind boggles as to what people get from dragging a shopping trolley a quarter-of-a-mile and dump it in the underpass?
Chica, being a very nervous and scared dog, even for her size (think a cross between large Greyhound and Wolfhound, and that's Chica), didn't want to go past the trolley. I pushed it next to the fence to clear our way, the trolley's rattling, clattering and metallic jingling adding to Chica's distrust of it. That done and Chica reassured, we continued our walk to the field, a further 50-60ft beyond the bend in the path. At the field, Chica did her business, which I bagged. We then turned and headed for home back the way we came, depositing said bag into a poop bin situated just before the bend leading to the underpass.
As we approached the underpass something isn't right - where's the shopping trolley? Gone. I looked over the fence with my torch to where the river flowed. Don't be stupid, I thought. My torch flicked left and right. How the fuck does a large shopping trolley vanish within five minutes of my passing by and make no sound? Over tarmac and gravel, then broken concrete slabs? No way.
There was nobody around on our way through, no sound of voices of people approaching. More disturbing was that Chica, being the neurotic nervous dog she is, would have reacted to the sound and alerted me - she can hear bicycles approaching before I even see them, that's how good her hearing is, and she always alerts me to anyone's presence, day or night. But no reaction from her at all?
No shopping trolley. No sounds of it being physically moved. No people passing us with said trolly, and no sounds of it being dumped in the river. Still a mystery to me to this day.
#2. MAY 2024.
The sun is out, it's a lovely Spring day and I decide to take Chica down along the river path and past the field for a walk. It's around midday, warm, but not uncomfortably so, and there's a slight breeze. All-in-all, a beautiful day.
Once more we're walking past the houses facing the river, and up ahead of us I see a woman with a small boy - I recall his mop of blond hair - and they are stood next to an old wooden telegraph pole, and the woman is helping the little boy, I guessed to be around 5yrs old, to take a pee. In her other hand she has a dog, a white, coarse haired Terrier breed, on a lead, which is busy sniffing the bushes next to it.
So I hang back, to give them privacy and time, plus, Chica is nervously staring, as she usually does around people, and is prone to slipping into 'flight mode' if people get too close, or we get too close to them. So we wait.
*The photo below shows an arrow indicating as to where the little boy stood, and the red oval denotes my position when I paused with Chica to allow the woman and the little boy to conclude nature's call.*
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| Copyright © Mark Kelly 2025. |
All done, the women tidies up the little boy and off they continue with their walk, moving ahead of us, probably also heading for the field, I assume. They follow the path for roughly 30ft and then disappear out of view as the path bends and dips slightly as it heads to the underpass.
Chica, as dogs do, has a brief sniff at the little puddle left by the small boy, and we follow on. I see the boy, woman and dog starting to turn on the path beyond the underpass as we progress into it. Once more they disappear from my view.
We reach the slight bend, and as the path open up before us I see the woman and the dog, stood next to the small field. I wait for the little boy to reappear, assuming he's playing in the tall grasses of the field. The woman pauses to bag her dog's business. Still no sign of the child. Also odd, no sounds of a child laughing, playing or even calling to the woman, who in turn doesn't seem the least bit concerned, or even calling out to the boy for his return.
Chica and I walk onto the field, deciding waiting could take longer than expected. But the woman turns and begins to head back the way they came. Still no sight nor sound of the little boy within earshot, neither does the woman call for him. She doesn't even look around. Just walks away casually with her dog.
I'm bothered by this, and thankfully Chica does her business almost immediately. I bag it and we head back. The woman is now roughly four minutes walking time in front of me, and by the time I reach that old telegraph pole she's a fair distance ahead, walking alongside the houses. And still no sign of the little boy, or any indication the woman is looking as to where the boy has gone, and at no time does she call out for the little boy.
So where the hell did the little kid go? The woman was the only other person in that area, other than myself. The footpath along the field is straight as an arrow, so I would have seen anyone else walking the kid if they had met up. To this day, I have have no clue to what I witnessed, or what occurred.
And there you have it - two accounts of strange experiences when out walking Chica down along the river footpath.
The shopping trolley was a bit of a freaky one, primarily due to the hour of the morning, the pitch black and silence, but the little kid encounter? That's on a whole other level for me.
As usual, I'll leave you with some music. John Murphy - "In The House - In A Heartbeat".
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