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Go backward to Tuesday 25th May -- St. Brides Haven to Dale
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Go forward to Thursday 27th May -- Pembroke Dock to Angle Village

Wednesday 26th May -- Dale to Pembroke Dock

WHEW! It might be a long way to Tipperary, but it's a bloody long way to Pembroke Dock from Dale as well!! My luck ran out with the tides today. I noticed as soon as I set off that the sea was lapping at the walls on the front. I had to take two long inland detours, firstly to get around "The Gann", and then to get to the other side of Sandy Haven. I reckon I've done at least 25 miles today. Still, I'm here now, washed shaved and fed, and I feel a lot better. When I set out for Pembroke Dock this morning, it was the first time I had worn track suit bottoms to walk in. I am usually more comfortable with shorts, but there was a cool South-westerly blowing, so I thought it prudent. Before long though, I changed the arrangement to shorts and waterproof bottoms as the grass was really wet. I followed the detour to Mullock, then down to the deserted Slate Hill Farm. I found and took the Southern footpath, although I wondered at first if it was a path as it had been ploughed and set right up to the edge of the field. When I reached the bottom of the field, finger posts told me I was right, and something should be said to that farmer! I re-joined the path at Musselwick and carried on to Monk Haven. In amongst the trees, I heard a bird singing that was far from common. I had heard it one or two times before on this walk. It was a very melodious song, a bit like a cross between a Sparrow and a Canary. At Watch House Point I took two of the few photo's I've taken today. A Victorian "folly" stands on the headland, and I thought it worth a snap. I also captured a lane lined with Foxgloves. The breeze was still strong now, but pleasant and welcome. The tall crops to my left were sculpted into some lovely patterns by it. The rain decided to turn up the juice, and I was forced to sheet up against it with the full suit. By the time I got to Sandy Haven it was coming even harder. I laughingly checked the tide situation and turned up the road to head for Herbrandstone. As I was walking through an avenue of trees, the sound of the rain was amplified and sounded quite loud and heavy. On my left I saw a covered brick shelter with the legend, "livestock weighing machine" written on a board above it. I though this was a good place to "weight" for the rain to steady off, so I stood under it and had a bite to eat and a drink. I looked at my watch... 11.45am already. I made a decision. "If it hasn't stopped by 12 o'clock" I thought, "I'm going". PIP PIP went my watch at 12 o'clock, and as if to order... it stopped!! (the rain, not the watch). Off I set, plod, plod, plod, up the old tarmac strip. I admit I put my thumb out at several cars, but I didn't get the offer of a lift, so my conscience is clear. As I re-joined the trail at the other side of Sandy Haven, I noticed to my great chagrin that the tide was now sufficiently ebbed to afford a crossing. If I lived in Sandy Haven, I would open a cafe and explain to walkers like myself that they could sit and have a nice cup of tea and a scone whilst the tide receded, or walk on roads for about 3½ miles to pass the time instead. I would make a fortune.

The Esso refinery is closed and, although it looks horrendous on the map, you see little of it while walking. The old gun emplacements are worth looking at though. The guns they held must have been monstrous, judging by the mounts. I entered the suburbs of Milford Haven and, after crossing the bridge, went into the tourist info' office. The lady told me what I needed to know and I set about getting some cash, buying a few new supplies, and sorting my appetite out. I had a meal in a cafe just down the road, and I must have presented a pathetic sight, sitting there dripping on the floor. I was wet right through but again, not really cold. As I left the cafe, I was pleasantly surprised to find it had stopped raining but I kept my wet clothes on to let the wind "blow-dry" them. As the rain had again penetrated the "state of the art" Gore-Tex, I resigned myself to the fact that they still hadn't perfected the waterproof/breathable idea... not when it's used "out in the field" anyway.

After crossing Black Bridge, (which was, err, black) I walked up the road and then headed South down the track to Venn. National Parks Authorities please go to the next paragraph, as you're not going to like this! At the end of the track, the path goes S/E through a field. The path line is completely non-existent here. When you get to the finger post at the other side, a very slippery simple wooden bridge has to be crossed; I would even class it as dangerous in wet weather. A little chicken wire wouldn't go amiss here. After the bridge, you have to negotiate a short upward section through what can only be described as a bog. It is so wet and glutinous, and ankle deep in places, but the worst part is that there is no escaping it, as the track is lined with cruel prickly bushes (I finished up with hands full of thorns). Surely a few stones or some lime chippings, anything would be better than the impassable state it is in now. Just twenty or so paving slabs would do the trick. I'd even volunteer to lay them. After this extremely disagreeable section, you bear right to skirt round another oil refinery. The surface underfoot is shale until it goes into the fields again. There is no real path line but it isn't a problem, as you follow the wire fence on the left. Hazelbeach is not a bad place, Llanstadwell too with it's lovely church. If you keep your eyes peeled, there is a quaint Victorian post-box (said in "the book" to be the only one left in Wales). It's just behind a lamp post before you drop down to the right to go to Brunel Quay. I followed Westfield Pill until I reached the Pill Bridge. A muscle tearing climb up a track gained me access to the Bridge. I crossed it and followed the road to the impressive Cleddau Bridge. The road sign "Pembroke Dock -- 2½ miles" hurts a bit, especially when your feet are sore (I'd been walking for about 9 hours now, and still one to go). At west Llanion I passed (well, nearly) the Welshman's Arms pub. I called in for a swift one, and the landlord asked me where I was staying. I told him "Roxana Guest House" and he asked me how much they charged. When I told him £13, he told me his was £12.50. I'd already booked and paid a deposit, so there was no way I was altering my plans. I'm glad that it never crossed my mind as Roxana is a very comfortable, cheery place. When I arrived at it, I was greeted by the daughter, whom I had spoken to earlier on the phone, accompanied by their dog. While I explained who I was, and the usual exchanges of what time breakfast was, etc, the collie was putting it's nose in every embarrassing place he could! I tried to placate it with a friendly pat or two, which quickly developed into pushing it's probing nose away from my groin... then it went round the back of me!! No matter what I or the daughter did, this dog was determined to sniff every inch of me. I don't know who was the more embarrassed... me or the daughter! She offered a lame excuse about "having the dog done soon", meanwhile Rover sank to even lower levels... he must have liked what he smelt, as he started "having at go" at my leg!!!! In total disgrace he was dragged through a door and despatched downstairs (I'm sure he gave me a wink as he went). The door was closed on him, much to my and the daughters relief! She finally showed me my room and I unpacked and did a bit of washing. Later I had a bath (loads of hot water) and the daughter dried some washing for me in the tumble drier. There was lots of tea/coffee making stuff, and even the first telly I'd seen since starting the walk. (There were others, but I didn't watch them). Along with a very fair price, I put Roxana right up there with the "nice places" I've stayed in. I'm staying in tonight -- I'm ready for a rest. I'm off to Angle tomorrow which is only about 15 miles away. My bed feels really comfortable, the room is nice and warm so I'm off to bed, its 10.30.


ltaber@pima.edu

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