I continued on, through the most delightful lane, flanked by flaming yellow gorse and guiltily wading through the masses of flowers encroaching onto the path. I just stood for a while and sucked in the air. What a pleasure. Again the views prompted prolific use of the camera. I was like a junkie with his fix. The walk barely two days old, and I'm up to two rolls of film a day. How long before I overdose? Just when I thought it was safe to put the camera away, up pops Hescym Cove. Now THIS is where I want to live. The azure blue water looked so inviting, and with the cove cut so far inland, it was well protected and calm. It's sides were made up of rock walls, with interesting caves and natural arches that looked worth exploring. I was now taking photo's at such regular intervals that I dare say when I have them developed, if I hold them in my hand and flick them, I will get a sort of "what the butler saw" type movie... a bit flickery, but with not much missing!! Just after Hescwm I came upon the most impressive natural arch so far. It far exceeded the criteria, so I took a photo'! The guide says the best way to view it is to "scramble down the slope below the path". When you have seen the sign "cliffs kill... keep to path" several thousand times on all the stiles, "scrambling down the slope" doesn't seem like the greatest of ideas. But ever the intrepid photographer, I descended. My heart was in my mouth. Not because of the danger, it wasn't dangerous, but because of the APPARENT danger, plus that old fruitful imagination of mine again. (My extra weight was bound to make the cliff collapse). I must admit though, I got some brilliant shots of the arch and Needle Rock, after which I scurried back to the safety of the path.
As I made my way towards Fishguard, I realised that I was paying for yesterdays exertions. The second to fourth days of a walk usually throw up all the aches, pains and problems. I had a painful blister on my right foot, and a black toe nail on my right. Also the rucksack was digging into my back, causing two sore spots. This could be temporarily relieved by placing my hands between the sack and my back, but as soon as I let go again, the pain returned. I assured and assuaged my conscience that all this would disappear by the fourth and fifth day. After calling at the tourist office in Fishguard, I took on provisions, as my next two nights were to be self-catering in Y.H.A.s. Just what I needed... extra weight for the sack!! Ah well, one door shuts and another one opens. The door that opened took the form of the "Marine Walk" above Fishguard. I could have missed this bit out, (an easy option when you're tired and/or footsore), but I'm not one to shirk and I'm glad I didn't. I don't remember ever having heard more birds in one place all singing at once. Coupled with the strong sunlight, it was perfection. I climbed out of Fishguard, pausing to watch the ferry coming in, and on to Carnfathach. Again words fail me to describe the beauty and majesty of this coastline. Everything around me was either blooming, buzzing or singing, and some of the places they chose to do it defied gravity. As I was walking round to Aber Felin cove, I noticed a colony of birds perched on a cliff face. One in particular took my attention. It stood sort of tall, and I cursed at not having any binoculars. I wondered if it was a Guillemot or something similar. Curiosity got the better of me (no, I didn't "descend the slope") and I clapped my hands. What happened next stunned me! It was a Peregrine Falcon, and it soared, twisted and dived in a display of aeronautics I had never before witnessed, all the time it emitting its screaming cry to add to the excitement. It was like a jet plane among biplanes as it masterfully threaded through the flock of gulls. I watched for ages before moving on.
I rounded the cliffs and dropped sharply into a wooded glade called Cym Felin. A right little garden of Eden, this is. I stood the camera on a tree and set the self timer so I could be included in paradise. I followed the rising path out of the valley and up to Carregwasted Point. 1,200 Frenchmen landed here in 1797, in what was to become known as "the last invasion of Great Britain". They landed here because they had seen an Englishman standing on the point, but it was a trap... there were two more in the bushes!!!! I continued on along the coast and when I reached Penrhyn, saw the most romantic, solitary cottage nestling into the niche at the top of the cove. A well kept, whitewashed little gem, it is. I envied its owners and returned to my goal. On my way to Strumble Head, I rounded an inaccessible cove with high cliffs surrounding it called "Porthsych". A woman stopped me and pointed out a seal basking lazily on the rock below. At last I had seen one! Then, just like busses, another three or four appeared at once! I watched them for a while, feeling smug that I had at last seen them, before pushing on to Strumble Head. At this point the weather changed... just like that. Clouds rolled in, and I could see the prospect of one of Pwll Deri's famous sunsets sinking without trace (no pun intended). The couple of miles to the hostel were spent watching visibility decrease and the weather close in. As more and more coastline was swallowed up, I knew the rain was coming. The question was, would I beat it? The first spots prompted a spurt from me and I just reached the Hostel as it came. I walked in at about 4.30pm, and it hasn't stopped since! I hope it clears for tomorrow, as I'm making for St. David's over twenty miles away... Oh, my poor feet!!