I turned left and followed the road above the beach, as the tide was in. I looked back across the bay and saw the most wonderful thing... a rainbow had formed and as I looked, it went from the left headland in a full arc, falling just short of St. David Head. The perfect start to a day.
I rose up a sandy track, surprising a very young rabbit which ran left, then right before heading right at me. It shot past me less than a foot from my leg. If I'd a mind I think I could have grabbed it, but I didn't try. My feet were already causing some concern as they felt as bad now as they had the night before. This in itself didn't worry me too much, but what did worry me was that they were feeling worse by the minute. By now I was walking on flat, open paths so in desperation I changed to the fabric boots I had in my sack. The relief was instant and all day they improved. All I must hope for now is dry weather or I will be forced to wear the leather boots and, although they are a year old and nearly worn out, it's obvious they just do not suit my feet. I decided I must get some new ones when I get back home.
With a new spring in my step, I pressed on, negotiating numerous stiles bearing the now familiar and most welcome "CODWCH" sign. This means "lift" in the local lingo, and other park authorities would do well to copy these stiles. Without a doubt it is the best design I have every seen. I rounded the point of St. John and immediately noticed that the sea was very turbulent just offshore. The last time I saw anything like this was off Portland Bill lighthouse in Dorset. As I approached St Justinians Bay, I noticed a load of divers with a truckload of the paraphernalia attached to their particular sport. It is a very steep drop to the "beach" under the lifeboat house, so I was intrigued as to how they were going to get the tackle down there. It was just then that I noticed the ingenious device next to them. It was a metal tub on rails. An engine in a little shed was started up, and proceeded to lower all the stuff effortlessly to the bottom... no problem! As I continued on, looking out for Castle Heinif, I saw the most unusual thing, a Wren sitting on top of a gorse bush, singing it's head off. Usually these little birds are very secretive and hide themselves away in the undergrowth, but this one really must have had something to sing about, and was letting the world know. A rare treat indeed. I also disturbed an Oyster Catcher, which flew away screaming it's call, which I like a lot as it is so much like my favourite bird, the Curlew.
I reached Pen Dal-Aderyn and saw the cause of the turbulence I had noticed earlier. Ramsey Sound was racing like a river. Obviously, when the tide is running, this is a dangerous place. The water was visibly racing left to right, and boiling and swirling at the edges. I took another picture of a portion of the path that looked in imminent danger of slipping into the maelstrom below. Also, some exceptional views of the Southern cliffs of Ramsey Island were committed to film, along with "the bitches", a collection of rocks at, and just above, the surface of the water. I can imagine how they got their name, as they must be perilous to the unsuspecting mariner.
The day was becoming increasingly warm, but the previous nights rains were causing a distant haze, which negated any long distance photography. A shame really, for as far as I could tell, the views must be terrific when it's clear. I walked down into Porth Lysga, where edible sea Kale grows, but decided to wait until I got to Solva for some fish and chips instead! I took a picture of the old Augusta lifeboat house (circa. 1869) and set off upwards once again. It was 10.40 and I saw my fist walkers of the day. The next loss of height was due to Porth Clais where I watched the antics of a couple of learner canoeists trying manoeuvres.
As I approached St. Nons church and well, I considered dipping my feet in it, as it is famed as a healing well, but by now my feet were feeling a lot better so I continued. After Caer Bwdy (a real war-like Welsh name, that), I came across four bodies sprawled out amongst the flowers just off the path. On closer inspection, they turned out to be alive (just!). It was the "fearsome foursome" I had encountered yesterday. We chatted and joked for a while (a good excuse for me to have a rest and a drink). I promised to send them a copy of this diary and they gave me their address. As I resumed my walk, I looked back at them... they looked like four students of Yoga, in an advanced state of relaxation.
The next couple of miles were spent dreaming of fish and chips in Solva and marvelling at even more superb examples of geology, natural arches (yawn) and slippage. I saw the remains of a tug Ron had told me to look out for, but didn't take a picture as there was so little of it left. I approached Solva and decided to make for the upper part of town, a mistake as there were no shops, no chip shop, and only one pub, which was closed up and for sale. I would recommend you to drop straight down to the quay side as there is a pub, the Ship, that does a very good Chilli. I settled for this when I realised it was Sunday and the chippy, if there was one, wasn't going to be open and I would have to perpetuate my fish and chip dream for at least another day.
(N.B. No chip shop at Solva, and pub in upper Solva has since re-opened). As Solva fell behind me, I dropped into Gwadn and it's picturesque sewage farm! After this, I wished I had a felt tip pen with me. Plenty of foot path arrows here (in all directions), but not a "Coast path" one among them, so I became temporarily deviated (not a pretty sight). All it would take is "PCP" on the right signs to remedy things. It's such a shame this bit of neglect is apparent, as on the whole the rest of the path so far is faultlessly marked. I passed the peninsulas of Pen Dinas and Dinas Fach before catching my first glimpse of the glittering golden expanse of Newgale Sands. I was supposed to leave the path at Penycym Bay to 'phone my B&B host for the night, but the best laid plans of mice and men, etc. My sore feet were being drawn inexorably towards that cool, refreshing and restorative surf foot spa in front of me. As a sort of "admission charge" there were a couple of stiff climbs to negotiate, the one out of Penycym being the hardest. I climbed up the hillside, via those annoying steps that always seem to be one and half paces apart, skirted around Pwll March, and dropped to the sands with not a moment to spare.
I took off my boots and socks and walked, albeit a little painfully as the sand was hard, towards the inviting waves. AHH... sweet bliss. Just close your eyes for a minute and imagine the satisfaction I got from that moment. I was a child again, splashing and jumping in the waves, and it was Soooo cool! I walked very leisurely Southeast along the beach. I chatted with a couple of local sea anglers who told me that the beach changed it's characteristics at regular intervals. Sandy, stony, rocky, peaty and sea-weedy after certain weather conditions. As Ken Cross, my B&B host, so eloquently put it; -- "The most wonderful moving picture I have ever seen". I had reached Newgale a lot quicker than I had estimated, due to a mileage miscalculation, but this was no bad thing as it turned out, because I enjoyed an hours paddling in the sunshine, after which I sat and wrote a few postcards. When I was ready, I rang the Cross residence as I was being spoiled and picked up. Ken duly arrived and we set off to "The White House". He is opening a Youth Hostel in mid 1993, and showed me around the nearly-completed structure. It will be one of the nicest hostels I've ever seen. Everything well planned and executed. He well deserves to succeed, and my hopes and best wishes are with him to do so. He then showed me into the house... WOW!!! That's the only word I can think of to describe my first impression of the place. Ken and Pat are well travelled people and this is reflected in the furnishings and decoration. A truly fascinating house with an interesting and/or unusual object wherever you look. Evening meal was at 7pm so I went upstairs to shower and change. My room was in keeping with the rest of the house, and I felt I was dirtying the place by just being there. When I went downstairs, another couple, Leonard and Helen, were present. Apparently, tonight was a bridge dinner party night, and to my astonishment I was included. This was typical of the welcome so far. We all sat together at the large dining table with Ken at the head, and a most convivial evening was had by all. I was treated to a sumptuous meal accompanied by a couple of glasses of good red wine. After dinner, I sat to write the diary whilst Ken and Pat bowed to a couple of rubbers of bridge. God once again heard my prayer, and spent the night issuing thunderbolts, lightning flashes and torrents of water.
This morning looks a bit changeable, but the wind is warm. After a really smashing breakfast (which Ken was denied by "weightwatchers" A.K.A. Pat) I decided that I must have hit on some sort of "buy two -- get one free" promotion by Pat and Ken, as either one was worth what I had paid, but all three??? This is value for money gone mad. Allied with the very warm welcome, this is one B&B I'll never forget and I can wholly recommend you try it (but watch out for Ken's 'beanfeasts' if staying in the hostel). Oh dear... I think it's just started to rain again. ( N.B. Hostel has since opened, plus second hostel building, and is doing a roaring trade).