Our taxi drops us off in the small hamlet of Cwm-yr-Eglwys (it helps if you say it quickly) – the ruins of the little chapel provide a photo opportunity.
Behind the church is quite a substantial boatyard, it’s obviously a popular place to sail from. A man and his son are cleaning their boat, the father enthusiastically but the son looks like he’d rather be somewhere else.
Anyway, up onto the cliffs we go, stopping momentarily to watch a couple in wetsuits and snorkelling gear circling around a spot at the foot of the cliffs. I wonder what they are looking for. The huge flippers they are using along with the rest of the paraphernalia make them look like creatures from another world.
The first part of this walk today involves circling a promontory named Dinas Head and after passing Needle Rock the path splits into higher and lower – we take the lower as it is closer to the sea and a short while later reach the cairn on the tip of the headland.
Time for some more photos…………………………
Is this a masculine urge to conquer I wonder?
On we go, spurred on by the possibility of tea and cake in a cafe/bar a few miles away at Pwlligwælod. Soon we are looking down on the very place where cars are parked and there are tables outside the pub and it’s open! But we have only covered a third of the distance to our destination so we do not dally.
………………and here’s a picture of a snail that slowly crosses our path. I have recently been exposed to quite a few snails courtesy of my granddaughter, who is fascinated by them. Usually it’s the pretty shells she loves but this one would probably be a reject – it looks like it’s been bleached.
The next inlet we walk down into is another Aber Bach – the beach is deserted apart from a small boat which lies upturned on the shingle.
Climbing from the inlet the path leads us up onto a tarmac lane which provides car access for anyone coming from the nearest village – Dinas Cross. At the top of the lane is a gate and standing by it is quite a striking woman in a bright red skirt. She is holding a bottle of water and looks like she’s waiting for someone. It turns out that her son is a marathon runner and is running today from Newport to Goodwick (and back again) – a distance of roughly 20 miles! The water is for her son.
From here the path gets narrower, winding up and down through tightly packed ferns. At one point I cannot see my feet anymore which is not ideal as it is so easy to twist an ankle.
…..and then it starts to get a bit muddy in places.
Walking along, lost in my own thoughts, I jump when I suddenly hear panting behind me. I look round to find an athletic looking young man in extremely tight running gear and bright trainers slowing up behind me. We say hello and then it strikes me that this must be the SON – so we stop to chat. It turns out he not only runs marathons in the UK but is also involved in organising them all over the world. He walks for a while with us but after we have walked for 10 minutes he’s off.
This is Damian and the SON walking through a camping site a couple of miles outside Fishguard. Apart from the usual caravans and tents, the site also offers stays in these lovely chalets with a wonderful view out to sea.
Soon Fishguard comes into view so we stop a while and watch a group of boys learning how to paddle a canoe. The trainer is encouraging them to stand up on their canoes and then sit down again without losing their balance. Most of them manage with a bit of wobbling but there is one boy who flatly refuses to do it.
Slowly we descend into Fishguard harbour, the tide is out so it doesn’t look very attractive and the high street has its fair share of boarded up shops and run down pubs. There have though been attempts to brighten it up and we did walk past a few art and craft shops.
Slowly we climb the steep hill leading to the upper town and the continuation of the path leading round the coast and then down to The Shack, the only open pub in Goodwick. It hasn’t been a very long walk but I am still on auto pilot, head down, watching my feet when the path opens up onto the busy main road that links Goodwick to Fishguard.
Damian starts to cross the road and like a faithful dog I follow without looking right left and right again. Suddenly a feel a rush of wind followed by a very loud, angry male voice shouting abuse at me as he misses me by a hair’s breadth on his super fast racing bicycle. Shocked I stand and stare into space, my heart pounding as he runs towards me apologising for shouting at me – I mumble something incomprehensible including the word “fault” but all I want is to sit down. He runs off and Damian gets me a beer. I have a feeling that for all the people sitting watching my dramatic escape, this was probably the highpoint of the afternoon.
Distance: 8 miles