This morning I woke up early about 5.00am. I thought it a bit early to be up and about, so I just opened the curtains to look at the river. It was nowhere to be seen, as it was pea soup foggy out there! I got back into bed and lay there wondering how I would go on, "walking blind" so to speak. When I decided to get up and make a coffee, it had cleared sufficiently to see the river. I got up quietly, as no-one else was about yet, and walked down the road to investigate a path I had seen going between the houses. It turned out to be a delightful riverside path lined with trees. It ran all the way up to the village of St. Dogmaels, which incidentally is the largest village in Wales, and I spent a very pleasant half hour following it. I made my way back to Nant Y Pele. No-one was about yet, so I had a bath, made a cup of tea and waited.
When Peter got up, he started my breakfast. We talked as he did so. It was one of the better breakfast I've had, and Three sausages!! After eating, I went and packed my things and said my good-byes to Peter, Laura and Rosemary.
I started walking about 8.30a.m. The early mist had completely cleared now. I passed the landing stage start of the path and continued on up the road. The bird song was loud and varied, lots I hadn't heard before. The verges were being trimmed, so the air was pungent and heavy with the smell of newly cut grass. The higher I climbed, the better the views were becoming. The wide estuary was calm and quiet except for the odd call of a bird. I passed the Webley Hotel and Poppit Sands, (photo' of plaque), before climbing up the road. It was getting steadily warmer so the fleece was consigned to the sack. Up and on I pushed as I passed what looked like a nice Youth Hostel. I then reached Allt Y Goed farm, where I promptly got lost! I climbed a stile (number 378) and the path just seemed to disappear. I went right, into a field, as there was the semblance of a path through it. It petered out so I turned back, noticing that the fabric boots I was wearing, and had so lovingly treated with waterproofing, were leaking already! Back at stile 378 I went left this time, with the same result. The only way left was straight on, but this seemed to head into a dead end barn yard. As I opened the gate, I saw the stile in the right hand corner... success! I climbed the stile and pressed on. The sun was even warmer now, but I was cooled by the constant breeze. I had applied sun tan lotion this morning, but I didn't think the sun would warrant it -- how wrong I turned out to be.
As I walked, I gained more height and the views were getting better and better. I took lots of photo's and was very happy. Although mostly past their best, the Bluebells were still profuse in places. I walked along headlands carpeted with them, their scent strong and heavy in the air. Also, the gorse formed many corridors which were a delight to walk through, the yellow of their flowers so bright it almost hurt my eyes. The wild flowers were so many and varied that I can't begin to describe them. Suffice to say I didn't know where to look next. The butterflies that were feeding on them were also numerous. Orange wings with black spots seemed to be the favourite rig-out. I saw lots of this type, but lepidoptery is not my strong point, so I couldn't put a name to them.
My nephew Philip, who is studying geology, would have a field day here. Anticlines, monoclines, synclines, submarine rolls, I was seeing it all. The rock strata was folded so drastically in places that it didn't look real. It was a fantastic show of bygone upheavals. I took a few photo's but could have used a whole roll of film.
The main thing that had struck me this morning was that, being a coastal walk, you could see right around the coast to distant objectives. This is a little disconcerting, as when you are just setting out for the day, you can see where you've got to get to. It looks a long way too. Although I've been walking for a number of years, it still never fails to amaze me when I can see how far I've walked, or unsettle me when I can see how far I've got to!! It looks a long way today, but with scenery like this... who cares? In the far distance the furthest point I could see (and see quite clearly) was Strumble Head Light house. This was to be passed on the second day, but it spent all day today winking it's light at me seductively.
The path climbed above Cemaes Head and I gulped as it came within six feet of the 400 foot drop sheer cliffs. It didn't do this a lot, but when it did my pace slowed respectfully. It slowed even more as descent then climb followed one another. The guide describes today as "taxing". By the end of the day I felt like a car... taxed for a year! Altogether I climbed well over 3,000 feet today, but as the old saying goes; "no pain - no gain".
The sun was a bit wishy-washy behind the clouds and previous days rains had made the going very muddy. Sometimes I was quite warm, grateful for the cooling breeze, at other times I was stifled in the becalmed air. It was how I would imagine it to be in a hot air balloon on a hot day. One or two times it just slipped on the uncomfortable side of cool, but only for about 15 minutes, then the sun returned and I was reaching for the towel again.
I was travelling South now, still marvelling at how far I could see and how clear it all was. I looked out to sea and down to the inaccessible pebbly beaches to see if I could spot any seals, but no luck. I passed the highest point of the trail, 575 feet, but if I thought it was all down hill from here, I was badly mistaken. The wet grass was really penetrating the fabric boots now, so I stopped and donned my leather ones. I was a bit apprehensive of them, as they had blistered my feet in the Lake District, but I had no choice. Instantly I could feel the extra support in my ankles, which were feeling a bit sore. In a lot of places the path is rocky and undulating and so works the ankles a lot.
I followed the muddy path down to Ceibwr Bay. Apart from "cliffs kill -- keep to path" the next stile had an extra sign... "Beware - Adders". My imagination went into overdrive as usual, and I had visions of treading on one of the damn things. As it was, they were all still tucked up under their stones, or wherever it is Adders go. Now I wished I had seen one to take a photo'.
At Traeth Bach I saw, and took a photo' of, what was to be one of the many natural arches I would see on this walk. This one was privileged to be the first, as within a short while any arch had to satisfy a sort of "criteria of excellence" before I'd take a picture of it. I next came across the "Witches Cauldron", a huge amphitheatre where a cave that used to exist had collapsed into the sea leaving a gaping chasm. All along this coast there are portions of slippage, or signs of instability. It all serves to make me a bit edgy (no pun intended) when the path is exposed or runs close to the cliff edge. I keep saying to myself "I must lose some weight" and breathing in, as if that would make me lighter.
The beauty of the first day of any long walk is that your body will take anything you throw at it, and any punishment dished out, and I was still strong and well. The first day holds a lot of other firsts too. Another one was the first orchid I saw. I wondered at it's rarity, and took a photo' of it. I soon realised that I could open a market stall selling them, there were that many along the path.
I could still see the coast crystal clear in both directions and as I rounded the headland below Foel Fach hill, I saw the sands of Newport. The sea is a powerful shade of aquamarine blue and today, with the sun on it, looked beautiful. Most of the little coves have pebbly beaches, but here was something very different, a great expanse of sand! It looked even better as the tide was out. Good... I could walk across the sand and wade the Afon (river) Nyfer, as per the instructions. When I came to this raging torrent, I estimated it's depth to about one mile!! (well - above my knees anyway). My memory harked back to when myself and a tall, crazy friend forded a "stream" in the Peak District. It was a bit like that joke where the water "only comes halfway up the ducks". I decided discretion was the better part of valour, and started to move upstream. Now if you look at the map, you will see that the course of the Nyfer comes down the far North side of the beach before, halfway to the sea, going South to the other side of the beach and then resuming its Westward direction to it's termination at the sea. WHY????? All this serves to do is make a weary walker travel three times as far. Why don't the council come with a JCB and alter its course? (JOKE). When I realised what the river was doing, and I was criss-crossing the sands like some demented Robinson Crusoe, I gritted my teeth, took off my boots and socks, hitched up my sack and towel, shrugged off my fertile imagination (I was BOUND to step on a stone fish, or a great big crab with even bigger claws), and I waded forth. Now, at one point the water came above mid-thigh level, and I admit to swearing out loud. This tack seemed to work and the depth started to decrease. On the other side it was more squidgy mud than sand (I was bound to get sucked under!), but I managed to pick my way to a rock where I cleaned my feet and re-booted them, before pressing on (pausing for a two-fingered salute at the Afon Nyfer).
After some more common or garden stunning cliff scenery, I reached Fforest ( an 'Ff 'ing nice place! ). I met and chatted with a couple who were walking their dog. These were the first people I had seen all day. We chatted for a while and it became obvious that they were lovers of the area. I could see why. I could easily spend a week in this cove. Safe bathing, beautifully clear water, caves, rock pools and yet more natural arches. Just give me a boat, a barbecue and a beach mat, and I'd be a happy man. The guy, I didn't get his name, sent his wife and dog back the easy way to where their car was, and decided to accompany me back the way he had come. We followed the muddy path towards Cwm-Yr-Eglwys, which is described as one of Pembrokeshire's favourite beauty spots, swapping tales. Cwm-Yr-Eglwys is OK, but I think it's full of rich men's "bolt holes". There is no accommodation and, being mid-week, it had a sort of ghost town air about it. At this point my guide went west (literally) as he took the short route towards his car, which was parked at Pwllgwaelod. Although I too was headed there, my route ran around Dinas Head. When I reached the highest point, Pen-Y-Fan, I took a well earned break. I relaxed, minus my sack, ate and drank and looked out to sea for the still elusive seals. No luck still, but once again the views more than compensated. I headed down to Pwllgwaelod and those magic letters on the map "P.H.". The Sailors Safety is sitting on the fence between gaudy and quaint. I had a drink and, after realising that this was the only habitation, asked if I could use the 'phone. I was told the nearest public 'phone was up the hill in Dinas Cross. (It's always 'up the hill' ) So, after a further fruitless inquiry as to where Mr & Mrs Lewis lived, I set off -- "up the hill". ( N.B. Sailors safety has since closed). Incidentally, Dinas Cross is the longest village in Wales- almost two miles long. It also felt like the highest. This was my plan. Make for the middle of the village, (where there was another P.H.) and ask again. I called at the "Ship Aground", and I was headed in the right direction, but hadn't gone far enough. I think had I realised how far it was, I probably wouldn't have booked it. Having now met Graham and Dorothy Lewis, I would gladly have travelled further to stay there. WHAT a welcome! The first thing Graham did was to take the weight of my sack. As any walker will know, this is a great relief (now if only I can persuade him to take the weight for the rest of the walk). Then I got the guided tour with him talking in that lovely (lovely, lovely) Welsh lilt. Oh, I could sit and listen to him all night. Nothing was to much trouble, why he had even mown the lawn especially for me, (least, this is what he told me... it was my initiation into Graham's dry sense of humour). Later I went out for a meal. I was back in "Tresinwen" early and, after being invited into their lounge, sat talking to Graham and Dorothy 'till late. They told me all about the farm where they used to live, and how and why they had moved here (Tresinwen was the name of the place they farmed). Their house is of unusual construction, being a frame affair that was put up in only two days, but looks the same as any other house. I went to bed feeling at home. The next morning Dorothy kindly did me a 7.00a.m. breakfast... and WHAT a breakfast. Everything grilled (except the egg) and FRIED potatoes... MMMmmmmm!! A nice change from normal fry-up. She gave me loads too, and I felt a bit guilty as one of the subjects last night had been appetite, and I had said I had got a large one (OOO-er), hence the guilt trip. To completely spoil me, Graham got the car out and took me down to Pwllgwaelod beach. We said our good-byes, and as I started up the first hill of the day, HE took a picture of ME!!!