Go backward to Thursday 27th May -- Pembroke Dock to Angle Village
Go up to Top
Go forward to Saturday 29th May -- Bosherton to Penally
Friday 28th May -- Angle to Stackpole (Bosherston)
Well!!!! Where do I begin, to tell the story of how great today
has been would take as long as it took to walk it. The day started
late, about 9 o clock, as I was busy writing this diary, having
neglected it the previous evening. I walked up to West Angle
Bay in cloudy, cool but not uncomfortable conditions. I took
one or two photo's of the bay and the huge canon pointing out
into it. I guessed Robert was still somewhere on the point so
I walked at a steady pace knowing he would catch up with me.
This happened quickly. Just before you get to the headland,
having passed a sign telling you in no uncertain terms that
you are on M.O.D. land, you come upon an unused M O.D. building.
Now I've heard of doing things in triplicate, but this building
is a joke! I think the M.O.D. must employ someone solely to
put up signs, and here was evidence of him trying to justify
his existence. Every single wall had a sign on it. Moments later
Robert arrived and we stood laughing at it. The temperature was
already rising and the sun getting stronger so I took off my
fleece. The path again teetered on the edge of the cliffs. This
section is very up and down, but Sylvia's breakfast was doing
its job and we pressed effortlessly on. The cliffs seemed to
be made from several types of rock. One minute it's solid, then
it's crumbly, then it's red -- and the formation and strata waves
stopped you dead in your tracks. At East Pickard Bay, you are
confronted by some prehistoric looking formations as you round
the corner. It could be treacherous here, as your eyes are drawn
to the signs in front of you, but the ground underfoot is uneven
so a stumble is likely. We now saw Freshwater West. A breathtaking
sight it was too, with the surf running and the sun glistening
on the water. Our pace quickened and at the first opportunity,
we dropped to the beach. Off came the boots and it was paddle
and photo' time again. I got caught by the "seventh wave" (big
one) and got a good soaking. I wasn't bothered though -- it was
quite refreshing really. We walked the whole length of the beach,
marvelling at the sand dunes. It wasn't until we got re-shod
and left the beach that we saw the signs that told the sad story
of Freshwater West -- bathing and surfing are unsafe due to strong
undertows, and there are quick sands at the Northern end of the
beach at low tide. This was where we had paddled but luckily
the tide was high, so no problem. We inspected the last surviving
seaweed drying hut, restored by the National Trust, and took
to the tarmac again, as the M.O.D. "own" the coast from here
on for a few miles. (I have since found out that they are not
averse to walkers crossing it, if supervised by an accredited
leader. Write to the range officer for details). At Castlemartin
we decided it was time for lunch.. We stopped at the only pub,
a pretty and quaint pub inside, called the Blue Bird (or blue
something) I think, but we opted to sit in the garden and eat
the packed lunches that Sylvia had done for us. We sat in a little
sun trap at the back of the pub, sipped our pints and ate the
Tuna mayonnaise sandwiches, followed by a generous lump of that
home made cake (Chris will be furious). We both toasted Sylvia
and what must be the best value in Pembrokeshire, Bed breakfast
and a packed lunch. £13.!!! You'll never be rich Sylvia,
but you'll always be popular. We now tackled the long footsore
slog along the tarmac to rejoin the coast. The map in the guide
now switched to 1:50.000 scale, and it threw me totally. As my
mind was attuned to 1:24.000 it took a lot longer than I thought
it would. Bosherston range wasn't firing today, so we could go
to the Green bridge of Wales, a famous natural arch. Just before
turning South towards it, the most wonderful thing happened.
I spotted Buzzard perched on a fence post not 60 feet from us.
It stopped us dead in our tracks. We studied it, and it us, before
a car came and put it up. What a magnificent sight it was. Wings
fully unfurled, I did get a photo' of it, but it can't possibly
tell the true story (can photo's ever?). It landed and took
off again a couple of times, before going on to M.O.D. property.
At Flimston we decided to inspect the restored church, but it
wasn't really worth it. It was very tacky and unsympathetically
done, and I wouldn't suggest you bother to go. From the moment
we reached the coast, everything was just so perfect that words
fail me (well, nearly). The Green Bridge, supposedly Wales most
photographed natural feature, is superb. I took photo's of
it from all angles, and if the weather hadn't have been a little
too blustery, I would have risked going on to it. The Elegug
Stacks also supplied some dramatic pictures. This section really
does defy superlatives. It simply MUST be walked to be appreciated.
One wonder followed another.
Bullslaughter Bay was really wild looking with the white horsed
waves rushing to spend themselves on it's stony beach. There
was more flotsam and jetsam here than I had seen the whole way,
and when we discovered a difficult path down to the beach, had
no hesitation in going. We "combed" for a while, but there was
nothing of value. However, there was a lot of interesting stuff.
We decided that this would be one of the first places the Coastguard
would look for any unfortunate lost at sea. "The Castle" and
Huntsmans Leap came next. The Huntsman would need a hell of a
lot of nerve to jump THAT gap!
By now we estimated we had done easily 20 miles, if not more,
as we had done a lot of "off route" investigating. The next
detour was to St Govans Chapel, a little place snuggling into
a niche in the rocks. I wondered why worship had to be so spartan
and uncomfortable. We next crossed the impressively clean Broad
Haven. This beach must be perfect for bathing, as it's got everything.
Dunes, nice sand and a very gradual change in depth as it goes
out. We turned off the beach and made for our B&B, Home Farm,
along the famous lily ponds of Bosherton. We reached the farm
-- BINGO! Another good choice. Linda James was most welcoming
and showed us to our rooms. We showered, got ready, and made
our way to the village of Bosherton, which was about 1 æ
miles away. It was about 8.30 and the journey was alongside,
or across (via footbridges) the ponds. The birds were singing
their hearts out, and the cacophony of different songs was a
joy to listen to. We even heard the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of
a woodpecker. We soon reached the village and went into the
pub. I can't remember the name, but you turn left at the village,
and it's just up the road. It's a touristy place, but the menu
is good, so is the beer. I had the Cumberland sausage (with
French mustard) and it's one of the best I've ever had. At about
11.30pm we rang Linda, as she had kindly offered to pick us
up, and sank into comfortable beds for the night. This morning
the breakfast, along with everything else, was PERFECT. The
weather looks set fair Robert is setting off early to try and
push for the end today. My lift isn't due to arrive `till Sunday,
so I'm having two leisurely days to get there. I think I'll
investigate the ponds again, see if that big Pike is still where
we saw it last night. I must put some sun tan lotion on - yesterday
the sun really caught me out.
ltaber@pima.edu