Distance: 5.5 miles
Max Altitude: 74 m
Min Altitude: 14 m
Height Gain: 182 m
Height Loss: 123 m
I am writing this blog with my feet elevated and with more than a little frustration, as I’m on enforced rest due to the ongoing injury to the tendons in my feet.
However, let’s go back to the start of the day.
Over scrambled eggs on toast, I got chatting to a very friendly couple from Solihull, Sue and John, who are on their first visit to Ynys Môn. They were interested in the Welsh language and in where to visit. It was nice to have company over food. After breakfast, they were kind enough to drop me off at my start point for the day, Porth Amlwch.
The day was already warm, with the sun beating down. Not a cloud was in the sky. Perfect!
After being without a signal, I managed to find a nearby park bench which had three whole bars of 3G. Delight! I got on my way before midday, with everything uploaded.
I had to find my way out of Amlwch on the Wales Coast Path, across a playing field and through industrial areas. These friendly horses came to greet me as I ambled past their paddock.
The terrain soon changed, and the Wales Coast Path suddenly resembled somewhere in the Mediterranean. I found myself stopping every few metres to just stare.
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I arrived in to Porth Llechog, so named because it provides good shelter. In English, it’s known as Bull Bay, but what an ugly title that is.
Back in the distance was Porth Amlwch.
It was a glorious day above me. Nothing could wipe the smile off my face. Nothing except the narrow kissing gates which left me jammed and helpless like an upturned turtle. I cursed my enormous rucksack.
I continued and made my way past the various coves and bays which followed Porth Llechog, still stopping every few metres to marvel at the beauty of it all.
All along, the pain in my foot was increasing. I took some Vitamin I and tried to put it out of my mind.
I spotted the ideal lunch stop on the cliff edge. There wasn’t a soul around. Just me and my food.
— Siriol (@siriolg) July 18, 2016
I could have stayed there in the sun all day long but forced myself to get on my way after I’d finished eating. The pain in my foot was greater than the strength of the Vitamin I.
I heard a chug chug in the distance and stopped to look. A fishing vessel pootled around the bay below me. Seagulls followed behind. I thought of Eric Cantona.
I hobbled onwards and rounded the headland. I was greeted by a structure which looked like ruins from the Byzantine era from a distance.
It’s actually a disused Victorian brickworks.
I badly wanted to explore the site further but the pain in my left foot was too great and I was forced to sit down, leaning against my rucksack. I checked my pack and I only had 500ml of water left.
I had two choices in such hot weather – carry on somehow on my bad foot and find a water source, or quit walking and call it a day. I didn’t want to give up but the sensible part of me told me I had no choice. I could barely stand on my foot for one thing, plus the need to keep hydrated was paramount.
So, I found the nearest road and that was that.
Again, the sensible part of me tells me I need to rest my foot and let it regain strength. But the other part of me is angry with myself and wants to get back on the trail no matter what.
What will happen is a compromise. I’ll rest for a couple of days, ice my foot, compress it and strap it up. And then I’ll get back on the Wales Coast Path.
I may not get to the end of the journey in lightning time but I will get there in the end.