Tuesday 30 April 2013

Day 5: Neyland to Sandy Haven

Weather: Brilliantly sunny with gentle Northerly
Distance covered today: 17.8km (11.1mi)
Last night's B&B: Neyland Court
% Complete: Cumulative distance: 39.8%:  114.8km
GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 5 (click!)

Another perfect day for walking!  The temperature was around 15 deg C, with a light northerly breeze and wall-to-wall sunshine. The guidebooks were unanimously snooty about today’s walk, suggesting that the decimation of beautiful Milford Haven by the beastly oil industry had been cleverly obscured by the path builders, so that the best had been made of a bad job.

You won’t be surprised to hear that I really enjoyed the entire walk! I found it uniquely interesting; my first exposure to an LNG regasification installation, along with lots of ships, tugs and ferries as well as some lovely scenery in the sunshine. If anything, the walk was too short. I found myself killing time in the town of Milford Haven itself so as not to arrive too early at Sandy Haven!

In my enthusiasm, I’m getting ahead of myself. Yesterday was a rest day and I took myself off to have a good look round Pembroke Castle. I caught the bus back into Pembroke, and was unsurprised to learn that English bus passes are not legit in Wales. “We can’t use ours in England, so you can’t use yours here!” said the bus driver.  I’m not sure who really is responsible for this tit-for-tat beggar-thy-neighbour bit of regional lunacy, but it really is not that surprising.  Anyway, with all the talk around at present that people who can afford it should not be accepting freebies from the state, perhaps I shouldn’t even have tried it on?

Anyway, I was safely back on the other side of the border within the castle walls. Apparently Pembroke Castle was the only castle of many in Pembrokeshire to withstand the ravages of the Welsh for all its history after they were established by the Normans in the 11th Century. The Norman invasion of Pembrokeshire took place relatively soon after 1066, because they were apparently aware of the remarkable civilisation of this part of the world.  It is interesting that Pembroke Castle itself was never under royal control, being in the possession of powerful English barons throughout its history.

In fact, its walls were breached once, by Oliver Cromwell, because the then incumbent had the impudence to switch his allegiance to the King during the English Civil War. He paid with his life!  The castle was an interesting diversion, with a very impressive keep, but I am beginning to understand the reluctance of English kids to view yet another castle.  There is a certain sameness…..  Eventually, I found myself sitting in the cafĂ©, reading up on the history, which I found really much more fascinating. After all, it was my rest day!

Back on the trail today, I viewed the industrial history of the oil industry with just as much interest.  Along the way, I passed the site of the huge, decommissioned Exxon refinery, the still operating Murco refinery (Murphy Oil, an American Independent), and the two LNG regasification and storage plants, South Hook and Dragon.  I’ll spare you most of the details, as I can almost feel the yawns, but the scale of the operation does need a comment. 

It is estimated, that as North Sea gas rapidly declines, by 2020 30% of our gas will come through these LNG terminals, through the pipelines over and under which I walked today.   LNG is transported at -160 deg C (-260 deg F), at which temperature methane is a liquid. As a liquid, its energy density is almost the same as any other hydrocarbon (60% of that of diesel, for instance), and hence it can economically be transported by ship. In order to keep it at that very low temperature, it has to be stored in sophisticated, cryogenic tanks and significant energy is required first to liquefy it at the loading terminals, to refrigerate it on its travels and then to regasify it at its destination.  Its huge advantage is that most of the world’s unexploited reserves of conventional gas exist in places which are inaccessible by pipeline. This so-called “stranded gas” can be brought to market as LNG.

We are witnessing the fastest transition in history from one fuel to another for the provision of power and heating to human beings, and, including shale gas in the US, it is being accompanied by the biggest reduction in carbon dioxide emissions per unit of energy consumed since the industrial revolution began.  Essentially coal is being replaced by gas for the provision of base load electricity supply.  Only nuclear power and/or conservation in the form of Orwellian controls on the use of energy could compete, and neither is likely.

Just a few years ago, it seemed that this revolution would be still-born. Because of the huge cost and the immense lead times of both the liquefaction and regasification ends of the chain, not to mention the very costly tankers themselves, no-one would invest in an LNG plant unless both ends of the system were constructed simultaneously and there were binding long-term sale-and-purchase agreements. Given that the supply end of the chain is often in unstable regions of the world, this was hard to guarantee. 

The future of the industry required a huge leap of faith that eventually enough suppliers and customers would exist around the globe that a “spot” market would develop, in much the way that it has for other petroleum products and crude oil.  Under these circumstances, with lots of competing players, the market would determine the price and neither suppliers nor customers would be left with vast investments and no activity. It does now look as if the LNG business is assured for the foreseeable future, and this is presumably one of the reasons it is proving so difficult for potential nuclear electricity plants in Britain to secure reasonable long-term guarantees from the authorities.

As I wandered along the coast of Milford Haven this morning, seeing in practice for the first time the things I have known about in theory for decades, I felt strangely elated and somehow privileged. I am fairly certain that I am almost unique amongst the customers of the coastal path to feel these emotions on this stretch!  That, though, you will be relieved to hear, is all I intend to say about the business!

As I turned the corner into the lovely Sandy Haven Bay with not an oil installation in sight, my problem was to time my crossing of the Sandy Haven “Pill” correctly.  I had been pre-warned that the stepping stones across the water are only accessible two hours each side of low tide. With the tide table in my back pocket, I timed my crossing perfectly and was on the lovely porch of Skerryback Farm B&B by 3pm, drinking tea in the sunshine. Tomorrow, I have to set out by 5am to catch the tide at the next obstacle at Dale Sands.

With these crossings, the character of my journey changes yet again and somehow I'm leaving my career behind and heading for unknown wilds.  I can't wait!!

The stone dome of the keep in Pembroke Castle. Most impressive and apparently unique

The huge keep from within the walls

Wogan's cave, deep under the castle. It has been occupied since the Stone Age

Vast storage vessels for crude oil for the Murco Refinery

Finally some half decent bluebells (for Bridget)! After our hard winter they are late and poor.

The impressive main street of Milford Haven; most up-market compared to the surrounding towns

And, of course, the Lord Nelson Hotel!

I felt amused and very welcome!

The ferry from Ireland passing a vast LNG tanker unloading at the quay

Purple Campion (I think??!)

Rolls Royce path, courtesy of the oil installations!

LNG pipelines out to the tanker on the left. Note the huge expansion U-bends, built to accommodate the enormous stresses of temperature change from -160deg C to ambient temps when there is no ship

Interesting security: fence, barbed wire, electrified fence and CCTV. Not very surprising
 

Huge gas storage tanks within the LNG processing plant

Another world. Tomorrow I have to round that far distant point, St Anne's Head on my way to Marloes

What is this? Yarrow? Today the flowers have been better on the North Shore, in the sun and out of the bitter, North wind

A display of Yarrow (?) on a bluff above the sea

Gorse above a very blue bay

Cornflowers????

The stepping stones across the receding tide at the Pill in Sandy Haven. The Haven has one of the more extreme tidal reaches in the UK. Fortunately, my timing was perfect



Sunday 28 April 2013

Day 4: Angle to Neyland

Weather: Drizzly at times with strong South Wester
Distance covered today: 25,8km (16.0mi)
Last night's B&B: Little Neath Barn
% Complete: Cumulative distance: 33.6% : 97.0km
GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 4 (click!)

In the seventies the international oil industry consisted of seven major players known as the “Seven Sisters”.  All the “majors” owned integrated upstream and downstream businesses, which usually involved the refining of crude oil in most of the countries in which they operated. Milford Haven was a particular focus for their activity in the UK, and over time Exxon, Gulf, Texaco and Chevron owned and operated refineries here (i.e. four of the five US majors; only Mobil was absent. The other two sisters were Shell and BP whose refineries were elsewhere in Britain).
 
The attraction of Milford Haven Waterway was firstly its great depth; formed from glaciation during the last ice age, it is one of the deepest natural harbours in the world. Even Lord Nelson praised it as “the finest port in Christendom”, second only to one in "Ceylon". This means that it could easily accommodate VLCCs (Very Large Crude Carriers), whose enormous draft meant that they can otherwise only discharge at offshore single-buoy moorings, a process that is subject to interruption by adverse weather conditions and is also otherwise inefficient.

The commotions in the Middle East in the Seventies onwards meant that the Suez Canal was unreliable and crude oil from the Gulf increasingly made its way around the Cape in VLCCs bound for European and American ports. Because of its depth and its location, Milford Haven was an ideal recipient. As is often the case, a concentration of industry attracts other participants (flowers in Holland, IT in Silicon Valley, finance in London and New York) and before long Milford Haven was the locus of a significant proportion of the UK’s crude oil imports and refining activity.
  
Now it is in decline. Two of the four refineries have been closed.  All of the majors have gone, (reflecting their decline on the international stage as well, of course).  True, they have been replaced by two shiny new LNG (Liquefied Natural Gas) import terminals and some storage and trans-shipment facilities, reflecting the general change in British commerce, where we now import foreign products through specialist terminals rather than make them here ourselves. Few people are required for this activity. 

The change is significant. According to Cardiff Business School, the industry now supports employment of 3,800 ftes (full time equivalents) or 40% of employment in the economy surrounding the Haven. I don’t have a figure for the local population, but it is certainly at least an order of magnitude larger than this.  The scale of unemployment is therefore immense and today as I trudged through the towns and villages that surround the Haven, the scale of deprivation was obvious. No-one was on the streets (even though it was a Sunday). Pubs, shops and business premises were boarded up; there is almost no activity at all. It is all very depressing and reminded me of my observations in parts of England during my LEJOG walk.

Why has this decline happened? There are a number of reasons. North Sea Oil (itself now in decline) favoured refineries on the East coast. Intense volatility in oil markets has reduced the size of the optimum ship, because the risk involved in buying a cargo of crude oil on a VLCC is huge, despite its efficiency.

Perhaps the most important reason is the rise and rise of huge, efficient refineries in the oil exporting nations. It takes a significant amount of oil to energise a refinery and this can be supplied by “free” surplus gas in the Gulf. Moreover, product sales don’t count against OPEC crude export quotas, so there is an incentive to sell product at highly competitive prices.   Finally, the UK refineries were designed to maximise petrol production, yet now we use mostly diesel; an expensive option for our refineries.

As a result of intense competition, the majors have lost faith in the downstream market and are putting most of their eggs in oil exploration and production. There is no money left for downstream investment. Even the efficient specialists who have absorbed their castoffs are struggling to make a go of it and I understand they are running at a loss. The virtually unmanned product import terminals and the LNG importers are now the only game in town.

When I was a kid, a friend of my father’s advised me to become a Chemical Engineer.  He hadn’t seen “The Graduate” (“Plastics, my boy, plastics!”), because it hadn’t yet been released, but I promise that the film reflected my own scene with him precisely! (though, to be fair, I never did meet Mrs Robinson!)

The lesson from me to all youngsters is that they should not listen to their elders about career choices. No matter how wise they are, they will always be basing their opinions on a world which already no longer exists. Though, for the same reason, this is probably also wrong!!

Incidentally, tomorrow is a rest day for me, so you will be spared my trivia, unless of course my planned visit to Pembroke Castle so inspires me that an interim post becomes mandatory!

The largest refinery still operating in Milford Haven, now owned and operated by Valero, a specialist refiner from the US, after a number of changes of ownership

Mayflower, or hawthorn blossom in profusion

No-one can persuade me this isn't beautiful!!

Two small product carriers at the loading gantry

The path through the trees between the refinery and the sea

An underview of a pipe-rack

A ship in the valley!

Wild garlic

The path was growing less used. Apparently, most walkers don't share my enthusiasm for the smell of hydrocarbons!

A newly-born foal, very unsteady on its pins!

By now the path had virtually disappeared. It got even worse. Eventually, I had to ford a river on a fallen tree, only to discover that the actual path lay 50metres downstream!

I never would have believed I would have seen this reference to England in Wales!

Pembroke Castle, my destination tomorrow!

Hard times in Pembroke Docks as elsewhere on the Milford Haven Waterway

I was about to go and read them a lecture on the concept of contour paths when I realised it was Sunday and they were all out walking!

The Cleddau Bridge, A fellow in a pub told me it fell down as they were building it, killing some of the workers

One of us! He gave me a discreet wave as he saw me, as if in some secret society. We nutters have a grudging respect for each other!


Saturday 27 April 2013

Day 3: Bosherston to Angle


Weather: Wet, then sunny with bitter north gale
Distance covered today: 30km (18.6mi)
Last night's B&B: Cornerstones 
% Complete: Cumulative distance: 24.7%: 71.2km
GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 3 (click!)

The met forecast said it would be clear by the time I set out. It was; for about five minutes! Then the heavens opened, albeit only for a few minutes. So it was going to be one of those days when one is forever packing and unpacking the backpack, donning and doffing waterproofs, all of which didn’t improve my mood. I was feeling grumpy anyway, as a result of a poorly equipped B&B, and a rather indifferent dinner experience last night.

As I arrived in the B&B, I was informed that I would have to eat at 6pm, because it was a special night at the pub.  This turned out to be “curry night”; a very popular institution, and the feeling was that despite having booked, I wouldn’t be able to get in if I dallied.  Off I went, interested to see what all the fuss was about.  I should have guessed!  People descended on the place in their legions. A queue formed opposite the till and everyone had two things in common; they were all in an extremely good mood and they were, every single one of them, hugely overweight, way beyond obese. A special counter was set up with huge urns of at least a dozen different sorts of curry, basmati rice and naan bread.   One pays one’s money up front (£8.95), and then one can eat as many helpings as one wishes, until there’s nothing left. On my enquiry, I was told that no matter how much they cooked it was almost always all consumed.  People just keep on returning for another helping, because it’s free.

One of the few laws of economics that still seems to apply is the simple law of supply and demand.  If the price is zero, demand will be infinite.  It’s true of the NHS and it’s depressingly true of curry night. I looked around me, though, seeing all these rural folk, all of whom knew each other, having the time of their lives; greeting, laughing, hugging,  sharing intimate stories (some of which I could overhear), being a real community, getting fatter and probably getting diabetes.  Their lives will be shorter, against the trend. Surely they know this, but they don’t seem to care. They are food addicts, just like drug addicts or alcoholics; only far, far happier.  Who am I to judge them?

I helped myself to a really rather small helping of curry and a large glass of red wine. There were no salads and no vegetables.  Hardly had I cleaned my plate than no fewer than four members of staff descended on me, one after the other, trying to persuade me to have some more. My behaviour seemed disturbing to them. I watched conversations about me behind the bar. Finally, when I was paying my bill, extortionate given what I had eaten, the delightful girl at the till asked me in a wide Welsh accent, “You’re South African, aren’t you?” I agreed and asked how she knew. She said her Mum was a Saffer and had had elocution lessons to lose her accent.  My depression deepened.

No wonder I was grumpy this morning!  My mood worsened as I trudged through the Castlemartin Firing Range operated by the British Armed Forces. They don’t shoot on Saturdays, so there is access to the public, and this is essential if one is going to be able to see some really rather special features on the coast of the range.  The range itself is a comment on the state of relations between the government and the armed forces. Of course, all military installations are Spartan, almost by definition. There is though a degree of decay in the local apparatus of the forces which has to be seen to be believed. It is hard to realise that this is still a country at war, even if that war is almost lost.  This is not the fault of the armed forces; they do as they are bid. They simply have not the resources to succeed. Though I am no supporter of militarism, I realise that the politicians who would have the nation “punch above its weight” in pursuit of human rights and democracy have systematically denuded the forces to the point that their credibility must be in question wherever lurk those who would wish us evil. Castlemartin is said to be one of the most important training grounds in Europe for Nato.  It looks pathetic.  Presumably the fancy bits are hidden from the public. We had better hope so!

I got even grumpier when I got to the coast. St Govan’s Chapel was underwhelming in the extreme, after such a build-up in the guidebooks.  Then I completely missed Huntsman’s Leap.  Legend has it that a huntsman, after a night on the town, took his stead to the coast and leapt the Leap. He returned next day to see in daylight what he had achieved, and got such a fright when he saw the gap that he had a heart attack and died of fright! Anyway, I missed it! I trudged on morosely, obeying MOD instructions not to wander off the jeep track, seeing very little…  At least it was flat, courtesy of the limestone.

Then my luck turned. The pictures below do not do justice to the magnificence of Stack Rocks or the Green Bridge of Wales. These magnificent extrusions of limestone have to be seen to be believed.  My mood lifted and I was able to face the bitter northern gale with renewed vigour and determination.

Unfortunately, shortly after I passed the moody splendour of the beach at Freshwater West (to my Saffer friends; Noordhoek without the waves), I ran out of limestone. It was back to the relentless sandstone!  Before I knew it, I was bouncing up and down like a demented yoyo!  I passed a sign that informed me, with typical understatement, that this 5km stretch of the way was “challenging” and that there would be no escape. So it was. The sandstone reared and bucked, twisted and collapsed. In parts the path just disappeared in landslides. In wet weather it would have been lethal, but by now there was bright sunshine and a gale-force and bitterly cold northerly holding me erect as I pushed against it.

Despite these geographic and meteorological impediments, my mood gradually lifted. Once I had successfully reached the end of the “challenging” bit, I was tempted to take a short cut to my destination in Angle, but I was enjoying myself so much that I just kept bouncing along. I reached the pub which was my destination in a state of elated exhaustion after a very long day, to be greeted by a sight for sore eyes. A couple of sailors had moored at the pub and had been just a few minutes late in departing. Given the huge tidal reach, they were too slow to weigh anchor and their yacht is high and dry!  They have to wait for the next tide to try again. All the locals were in hysterics. They have booked into my B&B for the night, but as I write this, they are still down the docks battling to secure their yacht.

It seems feet are the trustier form of transport!

The functional but delapidated control rooms of the Firing Range
They shoot people, don't they...

Delapidated personnel carriers as target practice

Lambs to the slaughter
 
The underwhelming St Govan's Chapel
The wonderful Stack Rocks

The incredible Green Bridge of Wales

The lovely Freshwater West Beach (or Fresh West as the young locals know it)

Landslide right on the path. Fortunately, before I got there!

The notice informing me that this would be challenging and with no exits!

And so it was!! A typical example. One of many!

Another one!

Pyramids of sandstone, tilted skywards!

An LNG tanker leaving the sound

A lamb for Phyllis. I was between it and its Mum, so I was getting it's full attention!

At last, a refinery. More my territory!  This one used to belong to a Major but is now owned by Valero

My B&B companions and their stranded yacht. They have just this second arrived back here!