Siriol

Distance: 6.58 miles

Max Altitude: 98 m

Min Altitude: 4 m

Height Gain: 288 m

Height Loss: 255 m

Today’s theme is most definitely seals. Seals swimming, bobbing, sleeping, resting, flumping and frolicking.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back to the beginning.

I awoke to chunky sea fog which had descended upon Goodwick and made the visibility near zero. What a sight. I looked at the forecast and it promised that the fog would lift so I waited a couple of hours before leaving. No sense setting off when you can barely see your own hand.

Today was the day that I’d have to leave behind Chris and Richard’s wonderful hospitality. I had had a great time in their company, with many hours spent putting the world to rights too. It was a sorry goodbye and I felt sad as soon as I started walking. Thank you both so much!

So, a simple 5.5 miles on the Wales Coast Path to Pen Caer (Strumble Head) eh? Sounds like nothing, right? Wrong! It should have been entitled Struggle to Strumble. And yet it started out so positively overlooking the port.

Again, as with yesterday, the colours surrounding me seemed so vivid, almost hyper real. Should the water in a ferry port be this shade of luxurious turquoise at all? I marvelled at it.

Of course, I had the obligatory cannon to signal my farewell.

And with that I was off towards Pen Caer. It was difficult from the start. My feet pained me, it was muddy underfoot and the ups and downs were relentless. The whole time I was having to overcome the little voice in my head telling me to stop. It never seems far away these days.

I rounded a headland a couple of kilometres into the walk and spotted something moving in the water below. To my delight, it was a seal. It lifted my spirits and simultaneously had me cursing the fact that I didn’t have a better camera than my phone.

That black dot in the middle of the next photo is a seal. Honest.

And that’s how it went, pretty much until I stopped walking. Each cove I passed by had seal occupants enjoying various activities.

There were adults and babies, some more vocal than other side.

Some were swimming about, others were sleeping, while a large amount appeared to be just sunning themselves on rocks. A community of seals going about their business, whilst I had the privilege of looking on. These are sights I never thought I would witness.

I was so preoccupied with seal thoughts that I forgot to take a photo  at Carregwastad of a stone marking where French soldiers had landed during the last invasion of Britain. When I realised my mistake, I couldn’t face walking back so here it is from afar.

Once again I was checking my GPS every few metres. The sign back at the start of my walk had said 5.5 miles but I was already on 6 miles, and every step agony. How much more?

I can’t tell you the relief I felt when I saw the lighthouse flashing in the distance. I had made it. It was 6.5 miles (yes, the sign was a liar!) and a comparatively shorter distance than usual but because of my mindset it had felt like 26.5 miles.

I resolved to regroup and refocus over the coming days.

Luckily I had an offer of accomodation nearby from my friend Laura at her parents’ house. And so that’s where I ended up being treated like a queen thanks to Elspeth and Len. I had a bath, food, drink and rest. Diolch i chi’ch dau!

I felt very fortunate indeed.

Distance: 0.0 km

Max Altitude: 0 m

Min Altitude: 0 m

Height Gain: 0 m

Height Loss: 0 m

If I hadn’t slept well the night before last then last night certainly made up for it. I had virtually passed out at Chris and Richard’s house – I will never underestimate shelter, warmth and comfort ever again.

After breakfast I rejoined the Wales Coast Path at Trefdraeth. My intention was to have a quick bite at the Morawelon pub before setting off but it was shut, so on I walked. The tide was in so had a few sections which had to go inland.

It was one of those strange weather days on the coast. A light mist danced in the air making visibility poor, yet it was warm and muggy at the same time. Like walking into a bathroom after someone has had a shower.

Ynys Dinas (it’s not really an island though, but a peninsula) up ahead was shrouded in cloud. I made the decision not to circumnavigate it in such poor visibility.

Behind me though, the mist had risen to reveal the stunning colours of the surroundings.

I was making pretty good progress and was soon at the tiny beach of Aber Rhigian. I debated whether to stop but after a few moments elected to push ahead.

The sea glistened. The colour looked almost fake, like someone had coloured it in with a chunky crayon.

Aber Fforest was the next beach where I did stop to have a drink from the little stream. There were two older couples there with their dogs, Helga the German Shepherd and Lily a non-descript woolly one. If I had closed my eyes and just listened to the conversation, I could have sworn they were human children being spoken about, not dogs.

Cwm-yr-Eglwys was my next port of call. I had been looking forward to arriving here because my guide book promised a snack van. Indeed, there it was so I got my money ready and strode up to it. When I got to the window I saw that it was closed. Monday really isn’t the best day to be walking on any of the Wales Coast Path when it comes to food places. So many seem to be shut.

Well, there was consolation to be found in the St Brynach church. Not for religious reasons, mind you, but for historical ones. Only the belfry and west wall remain of this building. The rest was destroyed in the Royal Charter storm of 1859, the effects of which I learnt about on Ynys Môn in Moelfre.

I had a lie down on a bench so that I could raise my feet above my heart for a while. My view was eerie.

It was in Cwm-yr-Eglwys that the Wales Coast Path split into two. One way sends you around Ynys Dinas, the other is a wheelchair accessible route that takes you to Pwllgwaelod. So I chose the latter, having made the decision earlier on in the day. On the flat, smooth path I got to Pwllgwaelod in no time, and just ready for lunch.

The cheapest thing on the menu at the Old Sailors pub was a £5 cheese sandwich, so that’s what I had, reluctantly. To rub salt in the wound, my phone did something to delete the entire morning’s GPS mapping, meaning my journey from Trefdraeth had been wiped out and created a dreaded gap in my cherished stats. Ah well….

It was good to rest my feet though. Plus you can never underestimate the glory of a simple loo while you’re walking a trail all day along.

On I continued. The ups and downs seemed to get much worse after Pwllgwaelod and I was suddenly glad of my sandwich.

A thin mist still hung in the air. Up ahead, I could just about make out the port of Abergwaun (Fishguard) in the distance. There was a ferry in port.

Flagging already despite my nourishment I had a quick sit down at Aber Bach. Somebody had left this stone sculpture there.

The trail suddenly became very muddy and challenging underfoot.

The ups and downs also continued. My knees were not happy with this situation.

Everywhere I looked there were interesting rock formations to spot.

Finally, I arrived at the edge of Abergwaun, at the old fort.

I descended into Cwm Abergwaun (Lower Town).

I stumbled about on my painful feet looking at the community art.

And the cannons. They do love a cannon here.

What is interesting about Abergwaun is the fact that it was the setting for the last invasion of Britain. I’m sure that most people would think it was Pevensey or Hastings or whatnot. But no, the last one occurred in 1797 and right here to boot. Yes it was a failed invasion but an invasion it was nonetheless. The very cannons I encountered at the old fort had been used to fire blanks at the French ships.

I don’t think any of this is terribly well known or publicised beyond the local area. I only know about it because my mother used to tell me the story. I particularly loved the part about a heroine called Jemima Niclas rounding up a group of French soldiers with a pitch fork and holding them captive until a surrender was given at the Royal Oak pub (which is still open for business in the town).

Another thing which isn’t terribly well publicised is the fact that the longest tapestry in Europe, which tells this epic tale, is housed in the town hall. Yes, it’s longer than the Bayeux Tapestry!

Even if you’re not into your needlework you can’t help but be blown away by the amount of planning, creativity and hard graft that went into making this tapestry. I just wish more people knew about it.

My journey through Abergwaun continued. Goodwick is a very short distance away. On the surface of the Marine Walk path, I spotted this plea for forgiveness. I’d love to know the story behind it!

And with that, I arrived in Goodwick which is where the Stena Line ferry port is located. Sorry, Fishguard, but you know it and I know it…the port is quite clearly in Goodwick!

It was to be my stopping point for the day. That evening, Richard, Chris and I had a farewell meal at the Royal Oak. It was the perfect setting. Tomorrow I would have to bid them both a sorry farewell.

Distance: 13.85 miles

Max Altitude: 178 m

Min Altitude: 1 m

Height Gain: 595 m

Height Loss: 697 m

It had been a difficult night’s sleep in the blustery weather. Bleary eyed, I started rounding Pen Cemaes.

What struck me straight away were the rock formations in the cliff, the layers, folds, colours.

Looking across, I was keen to get a decent photo of Ynys Aberteifi but in glum weather it was hard.

In a similar situation to Ynys Seiriol in the north, Ynys Aberteifi was once the home of puffins and Manx shearwater. But when a ship ran aground there in 1934, rats made it ashore and subsequently wiped out the island’s population of puffin and Manx shearwater. They’ve never returned. At least on Ynys Seiriol an effort was made to eradicate the island of rats, meaning that the puffins have returned.

I made my way past an abandoned Coastguard’s lookout and suddenly felt a ‘whoosh’ overhead. I looked up but saw nothing but then from the corner of my eye spotted two peregrine falcons jousting in sky. I had almost been collateral damage. Plus I wasn’t quick enough with the camera.

As I came to the crest of yet another cliff top I noticed a mass of rocks perched on a ledge. How vulnerable the coastline is, no matter how rugged the cliffs look.

The route certainly wasn’t forgiving. Lots of steep climbs, flat sections, steady downhills and then back up again. I didn’t enjoy it.

On one of my descents I saw yet another rock formation. It was at times like these that I wish that I had paid more attention in geography.

This section of the Wales Coast Path is notoriously remote, with very few facilities. However, due to it being the famous Pembrokeshire Coast Path, there were walkers everywhere. In fact it was busier than most other places I’d walked through.

I caught up with a group of ‘proper ramblers’, as I call them.  I come across them most days. They are identifiable because they’re always in big groups, wearing the same kit, usually have maps inside plastic pockets worn around their necks, and generally give me looks of disdain or ignore me completely. I think I could write a sociology book about the various types of walkers in existence when this challenge is done.

I was finally homing in close to Trewyddel (Moylgrove). As I approached I could hear the waves crashing in the cove. Around the last corner was a bench, with a memorial plaque on it advising me to sit and observe the view.  So I did as instructed, took a seat, listened to the waves and watched them smash against the rocks.  I then followed the path down to the beach at Ceibwr.

It was a melancholy little beach, compared to others. It made me a little sad so I didn’t stop for long.

I stopped for a bite to eat and got mesmerised by the rhythm of the crashing waves once more. I find it so hypnotic. The sea looked almost like ice.

I had read about Pwll y Wrach (which mean’s ‘witches pool’) but it wasn’t what I was expecting. It’s certainly one of those natural phenomena best seen rather than explained.

It was, without doubt, confusing.  On the seaward side, there was a ledge above sea level, so no tide seemed to be coming from there.  There was a small cave, but the flow of water wasn’t enough to produce the tide within the pool.  On my flying visit I was unable to solve the  mystery. I think another visit and some prior reading will enlighten me.

I then passed a natural arch created from the cliffs by the water. In the distance was Pen Caer (Strumble Head).

By this time I was starting to flag. I had plenty of water and supplies, but the weight of the pack coupled with the ups and downs were taking their toll on both my legs and my morale.

With my spirits waning I walked past a field of cows. They were the curious types and stumbled towards me wanting a better look. I stared at them and they stared at me.  I even tried feeding one of them a handful of fresh grass.  To my amazement, the one on the right below took me up on my offer and seemed grateful for the face-height offering.

Then I spotted the odd one out – different colour, different hairdo and a different swagger to the girls.  Yes, it was a bull and as you can see he wasn’t too happy with my appearance. If looks could kill…

However, there was a fence between he and I. Talk about relief.

I was nearing Trefdraeth (Newport) and was literally counting down the metres, staring at my GPS constantly.  I then looked back and realised just how far I had come from Pen Cemaes.

It started spitting with rain and I had to pick up the pace. But I stopped in my tracks when I saw this little character and his personal surroundings. He wasn’t with the rest of the flock and seemed quite content with his home. More bahjou than bijou (terribly sorry, couldn’t resist that one).

My attention returned rather sharply when I was faced with this view. The path gave way to this drop a little too quickly for my liking.

I found my way on to the nice flat sand of Trefdraeth.

The tide was out so an easy stroll to the village? No. I hadn’t accounted for the Afon Nyfer and gotten a bit too excited about finishing walking for the day. I conceded that as much as I wanted to take the short cut and wade across the river, it wasn’t going to happen.

So I linked back up with the coast path using the main bridge to cross the Nyfer, which is known for its variety of bird life.

I made it to Trefdraeth banjaxed.

Fortunately, my bed at Richard and Chris’ house was waiting for me.