Siriol

Distance: 9.6 miles

Max Altitude: 57 m

Min Altitude: 5 m

Height Gain: 178 m

Height Loss: 169 m

I won’t lie to you, it wasn’t exactly the best start to the day. Due to my trainer-saving detour around the Valero refinery yesterday, I had finished my day on the wrong side of the plant. So I needed to find my way back to the Wales Coast Path in order to get on my way again. Easier said than done though.

I could see it across a couple of fields so off I strode, making a beeline for the path. There was just one problem, well two actually – a huge bramble hedge and a double barbed wire fence. I took my pack off and chucked it over the barbed wire and then climbed over. My jacket got caught and a hole was ripped. Curses! I landed on the other side and prodded the ground with my foot. It was spongy. I was actually in a bramble-covered bog. Great! Three days ago I would have just waded through the ditch, but with my new trainers on that wasn’t even an option. I exhaled, stared at the sky and wondered what to do. There was no choice but to take the long way around. So back over the barbed wire I went, this time snagging my trousers. And back I trudged across the field towards the road again. A whole 3.5km wasted!

Still, I was back on the Wales Coast Path, and leaving the heavy industry behind me.

It was a fairly straightforward path towards Angle, nice and flat and took me through this field of cabbages.

I arrived in Angle to sounds from the Castlemartin firing range booming in the distance. The tide was out, so I began so walk around the headland.

The joy I felt when I got to The Old Point House pub! The even greater joy of seeing the words ‘walker’s lunch’! At spring tides this pub gets cut off from the mainland. I’m sure the people inside really hate it when that happens….(!)

Although I had walked past this pub on a previously, I’d never been inside before. It didn’t disappoint.

As well as the fire, various nick nacks had been encased in the walls.

There were interesting things everywhere, not least this bottle of booze, which had pride of place on the wall. I learnt why.

In 1878, the schooner, Loch Shiel, bound for Adelaide with a cargo of 100% proof whisky and gunpowder, was wrecked just off Thorn Island (which I would arrive at later in the day), near Angle. The Angle lifeboat was launched and the passengers and crew were all rescued. As the ship broke up, her cargo began to float ashore. The locals arrived at the beach to see what they could find and quickly realised what was contained in the wooden cases! In order to avoid Customs officials, many of the bottles were stashed in nearby caves, into alcoves in cottage walls, in attics or boarded up completely. Some lay hidden for decades. There were some fatalities though – three men died, two of them drowned while trying to recover whisky from the sea, the other from alcohol poisoning after drinking the 100% proof booze. Divers are still pulling up bottles to this day and it’s still drinkable. The bottle on the wall is an original recovered from the Loch Shiel.

After deciding that this is one of the finest pubs on the Wales Coast Path so far, I got on my way reluctantly. I will be back to The Old Point House though.

I was pleased to see Stack Rock Fort in its full glory from the other side of the Haven. I continued walking, daydreaming about what it would be like to live there.

Moving through a gate I encountered this little fellow. I’ve never seen a sheep that resembles a teddy bear quite so much.

I heard a loud rumbling in the distance. On my right shoulder was the ferry on its way out of Pembroke Dock towards Ireland.

Another place I’ve previously walked past but never visited is Chapel Bay Fort. This was previously a military fort and is now a museum and cafe.

Built in 1891, it’s part of a series of defences along the Haven, some of which I’ve walked past and blogged about (included Stack Rock Fort!). Last year it was re-opened as a museum and cafe after having been restored.

There were interesting artefacts everywhere. Yet another place to return to.

As I proceeded around the headland I saw my ultimate home, even more so than Stack Rock Fort – Thorn Island, site of the Lock Shiel shipwreck.

This is also one of the former military defences of the area. The fort was built in 1854 with a casemated battery of nine guns. When it was decommissioned after World War Two, it became a hotel, accessible only by boat. It went on sale in 2011 and was snapped up quickly by the current owners. Who could blame them?

With my head filled with daydreams, I proceeded towards the western side of Angle.

I continued around West Angle Bay. My progress was hindered at one point by this friendly wild horse. After some nose petting, he let me pass.

Within a couple of miles, my phone conked out. I think it was the cold. I debated whether to carry on or turn back. I decided to walk the two miles back to Angle rather than proceed. The next stretch was tough and remote and I didn’t want to be caught out without communications so I did the sensible thing (I’m sure my mother reading this will be delighted).

A little disheartened at my retreat, I sat on the shore eating a Welsh cake. My spirits soon lifted as I watched the sun disappear over Pembrokeshire.

Distance: 11.1 miles

Max Altitude: 80 m

Min Altitude: 10 m

Height Gain: 305 m

Height Loss: 306 m

After a day off for medical purposes, I arrived back on the trail.

I had found myself a new pair of trainers on my day off. The treads on the others had worn down so much that it was like wearing slippers.

My walk started beside Pembroke Castle. The Wales Coast Path runs alongside it, almost right the way around.

This bench was placed here to commemorate the birth of Henry Tudor, who would become Henry VII of England. It was good of them to put a bin there too. Handy.

I left Pembroke and followed the road out of the town for ages, walking on the pavement. I’d had a good look around the town before I got going.

It wasn’t the most inspiring of paths. I walked urban areas and a housing estate until the path led me to a small country road. I could see the power station and traces of heavy industry around me.

Some scenes were more familiar than others. What would the Wales Coast Path be without cows?

I was being careful of my new trainers. Is it just me who doesn’t like getting new shoes dirty? I avoided mud as best I could and walked on tarmac and concrete if possible. I was determined to keep my new footwear clean for as long as possible.

I followed a road next to the power station which led me onto a forest trail, a muddy forest trail. No way! I turned back and walked on the side of the road, which led me on a path right next to the Valero oil refinery.

By the time I reached Rhoscrowdder, my feet were aching badly. However comfortable my new trainers were, they were not yet worn in and were starting to pinch my feet.

I stopped next to the church. For you Welsh poetry aficionados out there, this is where Waldo Williams composed the poem ‘Cofio’ in 1931. He was harvesting turnips at the time. There’s a remembrance plaque there to commemorate it.

I peeled my socks off to reveal some fresh blisters. I had managed to keep my trainers in pristine condition, but not so my feet, alas.

Distance: 13.7 miles

Max Altitude: 63 m

Min Altitude: 3 m

Height Gain: 354 m

Height Loss: 364 m

It was a windy day on the Wales Coast Path. My walk began in front of the memorial to a plane crash which happened during the Second World War. The memorial overlooks the site where Wellington IC, N2749, of 27 OTU, RAF Lichfield, crashed in the early hours of the 19th July 1942. There were no survivors.

I continued down Hamilton Terrace.

And I arrived at another memorial. This time a sculpture dedicated to the four workers who died in an explosion at the former Chevron oil refinery in 2001. 

The sculpture is made from bronze and stainless steel, with fossils embedded around the base.

A few metres further along the Wales Coast Path was a third memorial. This was a tribute to the fishermen of the area. The inscription read ‘thanks to them Milford Haven flourished’, which I thought was lovely.

I’ve heard many people complain about this stretch of the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, saying that it’s ugly and too industrial and so forth. And yes, maybe that’s true in many ways. However, today, to me, it looked glorious.

In another few metres I came to my fourth memorial of the day so far, and I had barely walked a couple of kilometres. This was dedicated to wartime mine laying operations and the port of Milford Haven.

I took a wrong turn and thought I’d found a fifth memorial. I hadn’t. It was a Celtic cross.

After rediscovering the correct route, I ended up at Black Bridge, crossing the tidal estuary.

From then it was a pretty dull trudge around the Dragon LNG terminal, which used to be an oil refinery. When I got to Llanstadwell I sat down and ate.

I found this sorry looking pair of discarded shoes. Would they ever be reunited with their owner?

I walked past houses along the side of the estuary until I got to the outskirts of Neyland at Brunel Quay.

in 1856 this place became the site for the western terminus of Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s Great Western Railway, hence the name. This whole area is dotted with information about the man himself and his most famous engineering projects.

Who knew that Brunel modelled himself on Willy Wonka though? Uncanny.

On the waterfront was this helpful plaque with all the various surrounding locations.

And I got my first glimpse of Pont Cleddau.

Prior to building of the bridge, the river Cleddau divided the area. The towns of Pembroke Dock on the south side and Neyland on the north side were less than 1 mile apart across the water but a 28 mile journey apart via road. Incidentally, the people of Aberdyfi and Borth still feel this pain (as do certain walkers who recently had to travel up and down the Dyfi estuary for two days!). The Pont Cleddau was opened in 1975 and these days costs a princely 75p to cross in a car. However, people on foot like me get to go over for free, which is marvellous.

First up though I had to walk across the smaller Westfield Pill bridge.

I arrived at the Pont Cleddau but started to wonder if someone was trying to tell me something with this omen hanging from a lamppost. I mean, it was a gusty day….

Across I went.

I got to the other side and carried on along the side of the water.

I was rather thrilled not only to reach this gun tower but also this multicoloured bench.

This is known as a Cambridge Gun Tower and was built in 1851 to protect the Royal Dockyard. It’s one of a chain of forts known as ‘Palmerston’s Follies’ built to encircle the Milford Haven waterway during the Napoleonic Wars. It’s now a museum, but it was shut when I walked past.

Passing through the town I spotted this rather timely piece of street art.

My stopping point for the evening was Penfro (Pembroke). In 1093 Roger of Montgomery built the first castle at the site when he fortified the promontory during the Norman invasion of Wales. I considered going in but it was too late in the day. Another for the return list.

Henry Tudor (the future Henry VII of England) was born here in Pembroke Castle in 1457.

I’ve seen many many memorials on my travels (not least today), and I’ve walked past hundreds of memorial benches in particular. However, I hadn’t seen a memorial bench dedicated to an English monarch until today.

My day was at an end. It wouldn’t be long until I was leaving the industrial parts of the Pembrokeshire coast. Barafundle, Manorbier, Tenby and Saundersfoot beckon….

Distance: 8.9 miles

Max Altitude: 56 m

Min Altitude: 1 m

Height Gain: 289 m

Height Loss: 271 m

->

My day started in St Ishmael’s. It was a short walk to find the Wales Coast Path at Monk Haven.

Yet again, I was fortunate enough to be experiencing one of those perfect Pembrokeshire days.

Up and down the coast, everything looked so idyllic. The going underfoot was pretty easy too. Not too many ups and downs.

On the way, there were further signs of Pembrokeshire’s military past.

In the distance were the industrial areas of Aberdaugleddau (Milford Haven) and Doc Penfro (Pembroke Dock).

Arriving at Lindsway Bay, the Wales Coast Path was at its best. Quiet, sunny, remote.

There were just three people and a dog on the beach. Nobody else was to be seen for miles.

One of the best things about walking the trail at this time of year is the abundance of blackberries. The Wales Coast Path seems to be flanked by burgeoning brambles. My pace slows down as I pick off the fattest berries to gorge on.

I was certainly nearing the industrial and shipping zones, as I arrived at this radar station.

There were two men renovating a house right on the tip of the headland. This must be one of the remotest and weather-beaten dwellings in Britain. 

I had timed my walk so that I would arrive at Sandy Haven at low tide. It was very important else I’d have to take a detour of several miles away from the tidal estuary.

There used to be a set of stepping stones here to enable people to cross the river without getting their feet wet. It’s now been replaced by this new level crossing point.

And then it was onwards towards Milford. At South Hook Point I was level with Stack Rock Fort, a structure that has fascinated me ever since I saw it. A fort was built on these rocks between 1850 and 1852. Disarmed in 1929, it was first placed on the market in 1932 and sold for £160. In 2005 it was sold for £150,000. And I have to say, that I would love to own it!

Pondering a potential life on Stack Rock Fort, I arrived at the South Hook LNG terminal.

It may not have puffins or seals or golden sands, but sometimes simple industrial symmetry has its own sort of beauty.

The locals certainly have some quirks.

My finishing point was in the town itself, just above the marina. I was just in time for a beautiful Pembrokeshire sunset too.

Distance: 7.2 miles

Max Altitude: 58 m

Min Altitude: 1 m

Height Gain: 210 m

Height Loss: 225 m

 

It had been almost a fortnight since I had last walked.

To cut a very long story short, I had been fortunate enough to meet a retired consultant on St Ann’s Head, who was on holiday from London; this was all courtesy of my kind (and worried) host, Frans. When I told the consultant my symptoms (which I shan’t go into here for fear of boring you to death) he was very concerned and told me to see a doctor pronto. So off I toddled to my GP, who then dispatched me to the hospital for tests. They found my brain, my heart and a few other defects, but fortunately, nothing that can’t be helped with a series of injections and tablets. I will need some further investigations when I finish my hike, but all in good time…

Whilst all this was happening, I also caught some kind of fever, had a birthday and slept an awful lot.

Still shattered (and on my much-lamented rubbish feet) I decided to return to the trail in order to finish what I had started, and to hell with any medical conditions. Hurrah!

And so I found myself back on St. Ann’s Head on a beautiful Pembrokeshire day complete with blue skies and crisp sunshine. My welcome was complete when this fellow came to say hello. The Wales Coast Path just wouldn’t be the same without a bovine or two.

I fed the cow some grass and got on my way, past the lighthouses on St Ann’s Head.

It’s hard to believe that this is where the Sea Empress disaster happened in 1996. This entire coastline was awash with black oil for a long time afterwards, but twenty years on there’s no trace that it ever happened to the naked eye. Nature is amazing.

A short walk and I arrived at Mill Bay. In 1485, Henry Tudor arrived in this very location, with his 55 ships and 4000 soldiers landing at nearby Dale. Just two weeks later he defeated Richard III in the Battle of Bosworth Field to become Henry VII.

I struggled to imagine the scene here and wondered whether Henry got his feet wet coming ashore. He must have, I concluded.

My next destination felt very personal to me. I knew that my grandfather was stationed at St Ann’s Head with the Royal Artillery at the beginning of the Second World War. But I didn’t know much more than that, other than the fact that he operated the search light.

This bit is known as West Blockhouse Fort. The site is now derelict but there’s plenty of evidence of the buildings that would once have stood here, including concrete gun emplacements, bunkers and so forth. I imagined my grandfather here as a young man. I felt sad.

 

I continued on towards Dale. On the way in to the village, I walked past a series of driftwood sculptures by local artist, Sean Kehoe. I was impressed.

I couldn’t have asked for a better afternoon to be walking. The sea was calm at Dale and the tide was low.

It was a short walk across the Gann from Dale, which saved me a lengthy detour inland fortunately. I arrived at St Ishmael’s, my stopping point for the evening. I had managed more than seven miles under foot despite not feeling the best. All in all I was pleased and ended the evening with a smile on my face.

Distance: 12.24 miles

Max Altitude: 80 m

Min Altitude: 9 m

Height Gain: 302 m

Height Loss: 273 m

It was mid morning when I set off from St Bride’s. Next to the beach here is a church and also a non-obvious building. I stepped inside to discover that it’s a pump house.

I discovered that it had been built in 1904 to provide fresh water to St Bride’s Castle. This is an imposing building and had been visible to me most of yesterday (though I have failed to get a decent photo of it with my phone). The water comes from a nearby spring and amazingly the engine and pump are still in working order.

Satisfied that I had learnt something, I started walking.

As ever, there were wild ponies grazing. This beauty kept me company and accompanied me across a field.

One thing I’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks on the Wales Coast Path is an upsurge in fungi. This one had grown to the size of a palm tree (no, really).

I began seeing oil tankers out at sea, an indication that I was nearing Aberdaugleddau (Milford Haven) and Doc Penfro (Pembroke Dock).

As ever, it was pretty idyllic on the trail. I couldn’t believe the colour of the sea, a purest turquoise.

I looked back at my day’s progress so far. Not bad. Incidentally, that black dot below is not a bit of grit on the lens but a divebombing bird. The birds in these parts don’t muck about, I tell you.

I was flagging. Luckily though, the hedges were brimming with blackberries. My progress slowed as I gorged myself on fat, tangy berries every few metres. A much needed sugar boost.

I got to Martin’s Haven around lunchtime. Boats to nearby Skomer Island all depart from the small jetty in the photo. There were none leaving today due to rough seas. I had visited Skomer in my teens whilst on a biology field trip. I saw puffins, seals and all manner of wildlife. I suddenly wished that I could visit again. I felt that it would happen soon, somehow.

As I walked up the road, I noticed this strange-shaped stone jammed into the wall. A nearby inscription said that it was discovered in 1984 in the foundation course of the Victorian wall. The ring-cross stems from the 7th to the 9th centuries and more than 30 have been found in Pembrokeshire. The speculation is that it marks a prayer station or burial location.

My guidebook had alerted me to the presence of Lockley Lodge, a small visitors’ centre also selling refreshments and the like. I was hungry and looking forward to eating. But as I strode up to the building, I saw that it was shut. When was it open again? April 2017. Oh.

With my belly complaining, I decided to walk into Marloes in search of grub.

Here I am.

After walking some two miles down the road I got to Marloes.

I made a beeline for the Lobster Pot pub and practically inhaled a cheese and onion baguette. I was the only person in the pub. I also had my shoes and socks off in order to try to get some life back into my trotters. Sometimes, needs must.

I picked up some supplies at the shop on the way out of Marloes and got on my way.

Just as I was leaving I got a message from Terry to tell me that accommodation was all sorted for the evening. A very kind man was welcoming me into his home on St Ann’s Head. Excellent, I thought.

I found a bridleway and eventually got back on to the Wales Coast Path. The route took me across the disused Dale airfield. This was one of eight airfields that were built in Pembrokeshire during the Second World War. It opened in June 1942 and for a year operated Wellington bombers of No. 304 (Polish) squadron. They flew on convoy protection missions as well as bombing raids on ports in occupied France. Back in Marloes in the church, there is a roll of honour to the Polish aircrew who served here.

Looking at the satellite image, Dale has a pattern of three intersecting runways in a triangle. This is impossible to discern from the ground, of course. I found myself walking down one of the runways, and ended up on the cliff edge looking out towards Skokholm island. I was the only person around for miles.

The views were, as always, spectacular.

As well as the runways, there was evidence of other buildings too. A quick look on Google showed me that buildings such as accommodation blocks were sited on farms and other areas well away from the airfield as this offered better protection from enemy action.

I wanted to stay and explore further. But I had to push on. Needless to say, it has been added to my return list and I also have a lot of historical reading up to do on it too.

When I got to west Dale beach I was amazed at the scale of the landslides that have occurred there.

I possibly should have taken advantage of the fact that I was the only person in the vicinity. But I needed to get to St Ann’s Head.

How perfect is it here though?

For quite some time, these wild ponies followed me as I made my way along the trail.

At one point they began galloping together. I could have filmed them doing so but I just absorbed the scene with my eyes instead. Soon they were silhouettes on the horizon behind me.

St Ann’s Head was looking stunning in the late afternoon sunlight.

I was so happy to see the lighthouse in the distance. I had almost reached my destination for the evening.

I was given the warmest welcome imaginable at The Officer’s House by Frans. Over dinner that evening we discussed the local history, politics and architecture amongst other things. I can’t thank him enough for opening his fascinating house to me and being so hospitable.

Distance: 12.67

Max Altitude: 81 m

Min Altitude: 3 m

Height Gain: 475 m

Height Loss: 475 m

My flip flops finally gave way after months of trusty service. Despite my best efforts with gaffa tape, they could not be saved. So I decided to get another pair in a surf shop before I left Newgale. I found some I liked, bought them, had a cup of tea and started walking.

It was overcast and washed out, weather-wise. But the geology was astounding.

It didn’t take me long to reach Nolton Haven.

I got down to the beach and decided that it would be the perfect time to try my  flip flops on. I walked about the sand exploring and taking photos in my brand new footwear.

What I hadn’t realised was that I had trodden in dog muck, considerately left behind on the beach by some ******* (insert applicable term) dog and its owner.

Disgusted and traumatised I began to scrape the foul-smelling material from the sole, gagging every couple of seconds.  I cleaned until every trace was gone. Then I doused them in anti-bacterial hand sanitiser for good measure.

On the up side though, I found a stone on the beach that looks like a sombrero.

I continued.

Not long out of Nolton Haven, I ambled past the so-called ‘Teletubby’ house, named Malator. I had no firm opinions on it whatsoever except it looks like a huge eye.

I was more excited about this washed-up buoy to be honest.

This is a memorial to Olympic swimmer, Glyn Charles, who died at sea. He wasn’t from Pembrokeshire but he loved it, according to the inscription.

And then I encountered this huge beast. How grateful I was that there was a fence separating me from him. Look at the size of the horns!

Broad Haven was empty but for a few people wandering about. Imagine the same spot just three weeks ago…. throngs of tourists everywhere no doubt. I was glad to be passing through on a quiet day.

I had a quick coffee and a bit before continuing to Little Haven.

It was also very quiet. It suited me.

How chuffed I was to encounter seals yet again on my walk. I heard them calling before I got to the cliff edge and sure as anything, there they were on the shore. Joy!

Nearby was another family member bobbing about in the sea. Granted these are not the most detailed photographs!

Did you know that in Pembrokeshire they have cows which faithfully point you in the right direction?

I didn’t have long to go. Dusk was on its way. Meanwhile, I thought this bit of the cliff looked like a steak (rare).

Around the headland was my stopping place for the evening, San Ffraid (St. Bride’s Haven). Relief.

My feet were swollen and painful. But I had a treat awaiting me so I almost didn’t care. Tireless Terry had organised a bed at a nearby B&B for me. I arrived at Pendyffryn in Little Haven before it got dark and was shown to my wonderful room by Rosemary. What a welcome and a surprise!

I had a shower and watched the news (which I goggled at in bemusement; I am a little out of touch with current affairs by now). I fell asleep exhausted but glad to have a roof over my head.

Distance: 16.3 miles

Max Altitude: 108 m

Min Altitude: 2 m

Height Gain: 535 m

Height Loss: 548 m

It was another fine day on the Wales Coast Path and I started walking from the Tyddewi (St Davids) Lifeboat Station. The forecast was favourable and I planned to make a proper assault on the trail.

Ynys Dewi (Ramsey Island) opposite was bathed in sunlight.

I was curious about this line of buoys in the photo, and wondered whether they were there to denote a wreck of some sort. Anyone reading who has an idea, please tell me.

I had miles of rugged coastline ahead of me. The terrain underfoot was pretty tough going, I must say. I was careful about where I trod and watched every step carefully. I didn’t want to give my feet any further reason to hate me.

I came around the headland into the narrow Porth Clais.

There was plenty of evidence of its industrial past.

I continued onwards after a break to elevate my feet. I came past Bae Santes Non (for those of you who don’t know, Non was St David’s mum), and noticed a group of coasteers having a whale of a time. Like lemmings they leapt from the rocks into the sea below.

Bae Caerfai was my next port of call.

I could scarcely believe the variety of colours in the rocks.

There were signs warning that there were wild ponies grazing about the place but I hadn’t seen any. Just as I started to wonder where they all were, I saw this pair happily munching away next to the path.

The wild coastline continued. Each cove took my breath away.

One thing that struck me in particular was the nature of the grassy terrain. It was wavy and looked like someone had laid carpet over a set of office cables.

Late afternoon was starting to produce that distinctive Pembrokeshire sunset.

I was delighted to see yet another natural arch at Porth y Rhaw. I started to wonder how many there were around Wales’ coastline. And then I started to wonder whether it was possible to kayak through all of them. Was this another hair-brained adventure scheme I was dreaming up?

Finally I had reached Solfach (Solva), one of my favourite harbour-side villages.

Even better was the fact that I had a yarnbombed waymark to guide me in.

It was promising to be a beautiful dusk.

Here’s a pointless local fact for you. The musician David Gray moved to Solfach when he was eight years old. His parents ran this craft shop in the village.

A quick drink and snack at The Harbour pub and I was back on my way again.

It wasn’t far out of Solva when I encountered this beautiful wild pony right on the track.

I kept having to stop to look at the sunset.

By the time I arrived into Newgale, the sunset was a true work of art.

The sea was calm with no surf whatsoever. I sat on the beach and watched the sun disappear.

Distance: 12.36 miles

Max Altitude: 103 m

Min Altitude: 1 m

Height Gain: 484 m

Height Loss: 471 m

My day began at The Sloop Inn at Porthgain. A mighty breakfast to start the day.

It’s hard not to like this place or not be fascinated by its contents. Everywhere you look there are bits and bobs, various sorts of memorabilia, trinkets, maritime odds and ends, photographs and ephemera. And the food is great too!

Before I re-joined the Wales Coast Path I decided to look around the village and harbour.

These white beacons were placed here as markers to guide boats into the harbour.

On the green in the middle of the village was this washed up float from a catamaran. I was about to do the research on where it had come from when I saw  The Sloop’s Facebook page contained all the information already, thus saving me the trouble! This float washed up at Abereiddy and was moved here by staff from The Sloop. It was competing in the Transit Jacques Vabre race when it struck a shipping container. The two crew members made their way safely back to France, while this bit of their vessel made it all the way here to Pembrokeshire.

It was time to move on. I was sorry to say goodbye to Porthgain. It continues to be one of my favourite places.

I walked past these dilapidated buildings and wondered what they looked like when they were in use, who worked here, what happened to them…

It was a wonderful day outdoors. It was all I could do to carry on walking instead of stopping to gawp at every sight I encountered.

I arrived in Abereiddy in the aftermath of the Red Bull Cliff Diving. I had tried to get tickets for the event but they had long since sold out. Apparently thousands of people had crammed into the environs around the so-called Blue Lagoon to witness the spectacle. But by the time I came through it was empty, with just a couple of security guards hanging about.

My breath disappeared from my lungs when I saw the diving boards. Look how high up they are!

And the Visit Wales ‘EPIC’ slogan was also still there. But so was the miserable security guard sitting in the car behind, ruining my shot!

By the time I made my way around the path to the bottom of the cliff, Miserable Security Guard was sitting on the actual sign. I was destined to not get an epic shot by the looks of it.

My next encounter was with a group of hay bales. Or at least, it could have been. They appeared to have rolled down the hill and onto the Wales Coast Path. I began imagining scenes from Indiana Jones, only with me in the title role instead of Harrison Ford.

The last time I had seen the sea this blue was on Ynys Môn weeks and weeks ago.

Just as I was comparing the Pembrokeshire Coast with the Greek Islands, something burst my bubble and reminded me that I was, indeed, still in Wales…. yes, cattle. My nemeses.

They were scattered across the path, blocking my way. ‘Oh no’, I thought to myself, ‘not again’.

As I got closer I saw that they were trying to have a drink in a stream. It was a hot day, so who could blame them. I tried to moo and chat to them (three months alone on the trail will do this to a person), but it was no good. So I had to raise my voice, and shoo and clap them out of my way. For some reason I felt bad for doing so.

And I was walking again. Unscathed.

Porth Mawr (Whitesands Bay) was strangely quiet when I got there. Just a few surfers dotted about in the waves. I continued.

Yet more delight was about to greet me as I heard the now familiar sounds of seals. I peered over the edge of the cliff and there they were, lying down having a chat.

Ynys Dewi (Ramsay Island) was up ahead. What a relief. My feet were barking at me to stop walking.

And here was my stopping point in Porthstinian (St Justinian’s), at the Tyddewi (St David’s) Lifeboat Station. A new station is under construction. The old RNLI station below on the left was being sold as a holiday home (ah, Wales, country of holiday homes….).

I sat and looked out on Ynys Dewi opposite me and contemplated my walk. I concluded that it had been yet another perfect day on the Wales Coast Path.

Distance: 14.3 miles

Max Altitude: 136 m

Min Altitude: 3 m

Height Gain: 590 m

Height Loss: 624 m

Bless me, bloggers, for I have sinned. It’s been….er, quite a few days since my last post. My last walk, although only 10km in distance had left me banjaxed in mind and body (or feet more specifically). So I decided to rest. That coupled with never ending technical troubles have led to a shabby upkeep of this blog.

My feet have never warranted this much attention in my entire life. But each night I peel my socks off and stare at them wondering exactly what is going on beneath the surface. I don’t think I want to know. All I do know is that they hurt, badly, constantly.

As for what’s going on in my mind, well, that’s also a blank. I am feeling a little more refreshed than I had been. But in truth, I am shattered. I’ve been walking since June and yes, it has taken its toll. However, I shall plough on to the finish line even if I have to do it on all fours at 1 centimetre increments!

Back to the trail then….

The starting point for today was, as ever, where I left the Wales Coast Path a few days ago on my rubbish feet – Pen Caer or Strumble Head.

What a location eh? Yet another lighthouse to add to my burgeoning collection too. And you know how I love a lighthouse, reader.

I wasn’t the only one to appreciate the area either. Dozens of people had come for a visit, armed with cameras, tripods and binoculars. With the sun shining and the skies a happy blue, who could blame them?

I couldn’t hang about though and got on my way. Every few steps I kept looking back to see what I’d left behind.

It wasn’t hard to be in a good mood today in spite of my feet. I mean, just look at the surroundings.

A few days ago I was lucky enough to have a seal-filled walk. I encountered them around every cove and corner. And although they weren’t quite as prevalent today, I did spot them once again sunning themselves on the secret beaches below me. Delight!

It was a truly glorious day, rugged and wild. How lucky we are in Wales.

How about this for a view to eat your sandwiches to. Better than a computer screen eh?

I didn’t see many people, just one or two. It felt as though I had the entire path to myself.

I was approaching the twin little and large beaches of Aberbach and Abermawr.

I had another sit down here.

Now, although I was surrounded by glorious scenes of nature throughout the day, the going was tough underfoot. And that’s no exaggeration. It was up and down constantly. And boy did my feet know about it.

And as well as the ascents and descents, the nature of the terrain was at times tricky. It alternated between rock and stone, and muddy sog due to rain.

It was evening by the time I made my way into Abercastell. The terrain and the state of my feet had slowed me to a snail’s pace. But hey, I was still going!

One thing I love to see on my travels are the various types of houses on the Wales Coast Path. So many and so varied. I adore to see gardens decorated with the various maritime gubbins of buoys and ropes like this one on the way in to Abercastell.

I could have stopped in Abercastell, and in many ways I probably should have. But I decided to continue. Don’t ask me why. Maybe it was the sunset beckoning me onwards. Maybe I just wanted to go ‘a proper distance’.

As I rounded past Trefin the sun sank deeper into the sea in a deep honey and russet. I decided to walk the extra mile or so to Porthgain. After all, it would be foolish to waste such a sky. I definitely made the right decision.

And so it was that I arrived into Porthgain as the last beams of orange sunlight spread out across the water. I stopped and just took in the scene before me.

Only now did I decide to stop. I watched the sun disappear completely and hobbled towards The Sloop for a drink. In spite of the pain, I felt content. Yes, I had managed to walk more than 14 miles and climbed almost 2000 feet. But really, that was beside the point almost. I had seen some of Wales’ finest coastline in its best light, witnessed seals in their natural habitat and experienced an epic sunset too.

Pretty much a perfect day’s walk.