I attracted some strange looks as I walked along in just tee shirt and shorts. It wasn't really warm yet, but it was showing promise. As I passed a row of cottages and set off into the first field, I met a farmer coming the other way. We stopped and whiled away a good half hour. I got a potted history of the place, as his Father and Grandfather before him had farmed there. When I eventually got to Pembroke, I was really taken by the place. It's the sort of town I could have spent all day in. I went to the tourist office, had my card stamped and bought a couple of tee shirts for my children. The lady in there and myself had a laugh trying to communicate with a Czech' lad who was on a walking holiday. Between us we got across what he wanted to know, and I went on my way. I took pictures of the castle and some of the quaint old buildings before following the road outwards. The day was now extremely warm and the sun strong. I had my shadow for company as I headed West into the "Valley of Power" where there are numerous large pylons in the fields around you. Just after Whim Cottage I attempted to cross a stile to further my progress. The stile was wet, it was slippery and for the first time on this walk, I completely lost control and crashed to the ground in a heap. No harm done, just a bad case of bruised pride. I picked myself up, cursed the stile, and continued along the most beautiful tree-lined avenue. When I reached a large lime kiln, I turned N/W and started to walk up what was described as the worst section of the coast path. Well, I take my hat off to the guides author, this really was muddy. The big difference though, between this section and the aforementioned section, is that on this bit you can escape! If you walk in the fields on your left, you can walk parallel to the track until the part where there is a stile. Re-join the track, and cross the stile. There is little mud here, as the farmers beasts can't get to this section. Where there is a "hairpin bend" in the path, it crosses some water via a sleeper bridge. Here, a tree had fallen across the track, completely blocking the way. It took me a good while to get through and I realised that I was the first person to do so since the tree fell. When I got past the obstacle, further evidence was the overgrown state of the path beyond. No crushed grass and no boot marks in the mud... nothing. How had other walkers gone on? I made a mental note to ring the path wardens about it.
On the outskirts of Pwllcrochan I saw my first Orange Tip butterfly. I had read that there were many on the path, but this was the first time that I had seen one. I sat on a stile and watched it flitting from flower to flower. I had elevenses and continued. Just to the North of the Texaco refinery I went through a field which contained an enormous bull! I was very nervous as he stared at me. There WERE heifers in the field with him, but as I was crossing the middle of the field (so there was no escape if he turned nasty) I was sweating and extremely edgy as I passed by him.
I next reached Bullwell Bay (apt name) and I noticed that the small beach was covered with thousands of sea shells. As my daughter had asked me to bring her some shells back, I stopped for a while and collected a bag full and, I must say, I enjoyed this beach combing interlude immensely. After the bay (and for a while before it) the path runs through what would be a very tranquil wood, if it wasn't for the constant hum of the oil terminal "goings on". What with the power station AND the refinery, unnatural noises were ever present on this section. As I was following the tarmac road around Popton Fort, day dreaming a bit, I was startled by the sound of an animals claws clattering on the road behind me. I spun round to see a large Labrador bearing down on me. I went into my best "good boy" routine and, after circling me a couple of times, it turned away and left without so much as a bark. After a few more steps I got my first view of Angle across the bay. I estimated about 1 - 1½ hours to get there. I walked at a medium pace, revelling in the cries of the many Oyster Catchers, enjoying the sunshine and what was described an "uncomfortable" walk. If you pick your way it's not too bad. I left the beach and followed the estate path towards the village. I reached Angle church in exactly one hour. I sat on a bench and changed into my fabric boots. I had a meal in the local cafe and they kindly agreed to look after my sack while I walked around Angle Point. This will take about 1 - 1¼ hours, if walking briskly. I walked back down the road I had come up a short way, before swinging left to cross the inlet. I took a photo' of the Old Point House Pub, where the fire is reputed to have been burning for over 300 years without being let out. It was closed at the moment, but I may 'investigate' it later on. I next passed the new lifeboat station and gave a thought to the heroes who crew it before going on. I came past Thorn Island (bit of a "boozy" reputation, this place... the talk of the village) and then descended into West Angle Bay. I took a couple of photo's and headed inland to retrieve my sack and find my B&B. I actually walked past it on the way back to the cafe, but didn't manage to identify it for certain. After I'd got my sack, I asked a local if he knew where Mrs Reece lived. He shot me a strange half-smile and said; "You can't miss it, just follow the noise of the dogs". "Oh no" I thought, "what have I got myself into this time". I can now answer my own question with authority. It's a mixture of home and your Mum's house. Talk about falling on your feel!! Sylvia Reece is my kind of Mum! All fuss and look after -- and the home made cake...MMMMMM!!!! I don't think Chris, (Mr Reece) was too pleased, as what I had, he didn't! I can't say I blame him. Shortly after I arrived there was a knock on the door. It turned out to be a chap called Robert, the 2nd "full path" walker I had met. He was tired, but had not booked ahead, and as accommodation in Angle is sparse, was struggling to find somewhere. Sylvia's mother instinct surfaced, and she just couldn't turn him away. She offered to let him sleep in her bed (stop it!) and she would have slept on the sofa I suppose. Anyway, as there were two singles in my room, I said he could have one of those and the situation was resolved. (I hope he doesn't snore). We went up to our room accompanied by yet more cake (scowls from Chris) and tea, and chatted. Sylvia kept us company for a while, before leaving us to get cleaned up and changed before going for a warm at the fire in the Old Point House Inn, When we got there, there were about seven or eight men sitting around the fire, talking and laughing. A very nice and welcoming atmosphere. We ordered a couple of drinks and got chatting to a chap who was sitting at the bar. I'd noticed that there were a lot of pictures and artefacts in the pub that concerned lifeboats and so I asked if the life-boatmen ever came in for a drink. Little did I know I was in the company of the very heroes I had revered earlier. We stayed much longer than planned. They were so matter of fact about the job they do. I really enjoyed the patter with them. What with all this, and Sylvia, I could easily spend a lot more time in Angle. We called at the other pub on the way back, just to "check it out" and for a game of pool. Once again we were made to feel like locals. We had to be up early for breakfast, as Sylvia was going to Aqua-aerobics and wanted to get away. I didn't mind, as I like an early start, and Robert had to go around Dale Point as he had been too busy finding accommodation to do it last night. Breakfast again was fit for a king. New laid eggs and HOT toast, another dream fulfilled by the simplest method... bread and a toaster on the table. We both agreed, as we worked our way through breakfast, that these toast racks were invented to cool toast, not to serve it! Two very satisfied customers rose from THAT table, and we collected the clothes that Sylvia had kindly dried for us overnight, and went to pack. We got ready to leave. Robert set off to do the headland, whilst I sat to write this diary. I'm off to Stackpole today, and the famous lily ponds at Bosherston. I must say I'm sad to turn my back on Angle. If you go yourself, book early, as I suspect Sylvia and Chris are another very popular choice for folk to stay with.