Chuffed

Finally we reached Broadhaven where we were to stop our walk and return home. 

We had to admit that our hike had a couple of gaps in it, but one thing that made our happiness complete was the wildlife.

The Pembrokeshire coast didn't disappoint. The flowers were lush, the insects extraordinary and we even saw on the path (at different times ) a fox cub and an adder.  A very fond memory will be standing on the clifftop watching a seal colony including several playful pups. 

However, my favourite is always the birdlife. There was a nesting colony of guillemots, some fulmar, ravens and kestrels, and a peregrine which glided and then stooped on its prey. All around were stone chats, linnets, larks. 

Best of all, we lost count of the number of choughs. We have come to characterise them as 'fun' birds because of their cocky call 'keeaw' and their playful way of flying.  They are generally out and about in pairs and busily probe the short turf on the cliffs with their long red bills. 

All in all, despite my failure to walk the complete path, we were chuffed.

Chough drawn by me

Wet, wet, wet

On a coast path, you are very exposed to the weather. Even worse, you can see it coming from a long way off, the cliffs whiting out as the rain storm approaches.

And Wales can certainly be damp.

On our Pembrokeshire trip, we had been so lucky with the weather.

But on our penultimate day, our luck ran out. 

The forecast said the vigorous rain would clear in the afternoon. It didn't.

It was like walking thirteen miles beneath a power shower. 

My boots were sloshing and Nigel, walking just behind me reports seeing froth coming out each time I took a step. I maintain that it was caused by the fabric conditioner in my socks. 

When we arrived at the Cambrian inn at Solva the concierge was very nice about mopping up the puddle we left in reception and gave us an industrial roll of blue tissue paper so we could sort ourselves out in our room. 

When we walked on the next day, our gear was still decidedly damp, but it didn't matter - there was only one day left of walking and the sun was shining again.

A not-so-well-deserved break

Last year, when Nigel and I walked the South Downs Way, we met another couple who were undertaking the same walk. They said something which stopped us in our tracks:

'We're not walking tomorrow.  It's our rest day.'

So one could take a rest day. It simply had not occurred to us. 

'We're going to have one of those next time.' 

So this year on the Pembrokeshire coast path, the plan had been to walk for five days, then take a break when we hit St David's. But thanks to my dodgy knees, when we reached St David's we had been walking for only three of those days - did we even deserve a rest day?

However, there was no way I was going to miss out on exploring this legendary tiny city.

The cathedral turned out to be a jewel, built improbably in a hidden hollow. Inside, the splendid ancient architecture was enhanced by thought-provoking contemporary art and poetry, adding to the spirituality of the place. 

It got even better when we explored the massive ruins of the bishop's palace. There weren't too many visitors so Stephen, one of the custodians, gave us a tour. He had supplemented his historical knowledge with a detailed study of the building and showed us details we'd never have spotted, like 'the disappointing staircase' which led only to a cramped garderobe.

After that, in generous sunshine, we walked out to St Non's head and perched on the ruins of a Celtic Chapel. While Nigel read, I painted a watercolour of the sea and a linnet sang to us from a nearby fence post.

So no, maybe we didn't deserve a rest day, but we certainly enjoyed it.

Back on the road

I thought the coastpath walk was over for me. My poor old knees were very painful after 16 miles of distance and 1240 metres of ascent. 

We would do tourism instead.

There are amazing things to see in Pembrokeshire - the wildlife and archaeology are right up my street. Yet all was dimmed for me by a pall of failure -  but for my knees we should have been striding along vertiginous cliffs, looking out for gannets and seals.

We visited Henllys Iron Age reconstructed village and Cilgerran Castle. There was a bit of scrambling about in ruins.

The next day we took a boat trip along the coast of Skomer Island, home to thousands of puffins, guillemots and razorbills. Afterwards, we went for a five-mile hike around a nearby rocky promontory.

That night I said to Nigel, 'Funny thing, but the last two days my knees have been perfectly fine.'

So next morning there we were, back on the coast path again, knees very firmly strapped. 

Because we had already booked our lodgings the logic of the trip meant we carried on not from where we stopped before, but from where we should have been. Meaning that one day we may feel compelled to return and fill in a two day gap near Fishguard. 

But as it is, I'm just happy we got back on the path.

Fun puffins

When my knees let me down and we abandoned our coastal walk, I said to Nigel, 'I remember you telling me about labrador dogs who train to be guide dogs for the blind. Some of them prove unsuitable and appear to live with a sense of failure ever after. Having dropped out of our walk I feel like one of those dogs.'

Nigel scratched his head to think what would cheer me up. 

He booked a boat trip to see the puffins nesting on Skomer Island.

There is nothing more cheering than a puffin. 

Like clockwork bath toys they bobbed in the waves with their clown beaks. Even better was when they flew, each flight so lacking in competence that it looked like it must be the first, their bright red feet stuck out at an ungainly angle, as if longing to land. 

So yes, the puffins made me smile, but even more cheering was the fact that they were part of a healthy colony.

The colony at Skomer is very successful as it is sited in a small no-catch zone where fishing is banned, as advocated by David Attenborough in his recent film, Ocean, and there is plenty for them to eat.

If we had more zones like that, my smile would run from ear to ear! 

With thanks to Graeme for his puffin photo.