Day 14: Newport to Ceibwr Bay

Weather: Sunny and very windy, with a late shower

Distance covered today: 14.6km (9.1mi)

Last night's B&B: The Golden Lion Country Inn

% Complete: Cum distance:  98.5%: 289.6 (179.9mi)

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 14 (click!)

A strange metamorphosis occurs on these journeys. At first, exposure to the elements is a bit of a shock, requiring careful selection of clothing and lots of respect for the conditions. As time moves on, one becomes somewhat used, if not inured, to these external stimuli. I’m not talking about extreme conditions such as yesterday, to which everyone would react, but just the normal variation that takes place day to day. 

Looking back at the early photos in this blog, reflecting balmy weather  to start and contrasting that with the much harsher circumstances up here, I find that I am still wearing the identical clothes, and feeling just the same.  It must be that the body, in constant motion and being pushed quite hard, regulates its temperature internally. How hot I feel is more a question of how hard I’m pushing up the hill, how heavily I’m breathing and not so much on the external meteorology.

I’ve noticed for instance, people getting out of their warm, comfortable cars at the beach, and immediately hugging themselves for warmth, putting on copious extra layers and still looking decidedly uncomfortable, whereas I feel just fine in just a shirt. Veronica would argue that I don’t feel the cold as others do, and there is some truth in that, but this is well beyond that. After a few weeks of being outside all the time, some sort of adjustment must take place internally. It is an invigorating experience.

Certainly that change from the balmy South to the chilly North does seem to have occurred. It’s as if I’ve walked from the Mediterranean to North West Europe!!  It’s truly hard to believe that I’m only about 25 miles as the crow flies from my point of departure!  It is of course all due to the weather, but somehow the weather combined with these very high and isolated cliffs, lends a distinctly cool and slightly ominous feel to the journey.

Today, I passed just three walkers on the entire walk. Two old friends from Lancashire were completing a leg in a series going back ten years and claimed amidst gales of laughter that each year the legs get shorter!  Then, right at the end, I past a very fit German, carrying full camping kit and yomping down the path to Amroth, which he hopes to achieve in not much more than a week. Absolutely no-one else, not even a dog-walker was sighted.  What a contrast to the legions of visitors around St David’s, just a week ago!

Today the wind wasn’t as severe as yesterday, but it was still blowing a gale, and I was on much higher and steeper cliffs. I had to be careful, and I was very conscious of the advice I read somewhere that one is much more likely to take a wrong step when one is tired, and that this is a risk towards the end of this journey. I noted at one point when I was trying to change my map, while hanging onto my poles and my backpack, etc., that as something almost gets away in the wind, there is an automatic reaction to lunge after it, and on the edge of a cliff, this is unwise. It is so easy to misjudge your footing. I looked up at the birds, so assured in these conditions, as are the horses and all the other animals that live out here, and agreed that I might have been here for a while, but I still don’t belong.

 As I reflected on this information, I also had to admit to myself that this journey has been tougher than I had expected.  Despite having read widely about the trail, in my mind’s eye I still imagined that a stroll along a coastal path could hardly be more demanding than the Pennine Way or the West Highland Way.  Of course I did not anticipate the gleam in the eye of the mad contour man, and the statistics will reveal that this walk has been very arduous in ascents and descents, but that must await my last post.

For the last leg tomorrow, I will be joined by the Grumpy Hobbit himself and possible also by his wife, Her Nibs. I look very much forward to enjoying their company and learning more about this lovely country.

I will also see Veronica, and after just a few weeks without her, that will be a joyous reunion.

The Narberth River estuary; home to many seabirds

Yet another lime kiln, for Bridget

My favourite forest tunnels, heading up towards the cliffs

Looking back at the extensive Newport Sands

That's my first objective, and soon I'll be looking down on it!

Wonderful crags. This one looked to me like a woman's face in profile

Only the second warning along the path. The first was between Fresh West and Angle. Sobering!

Great shards of rock, agonised and rearing skywards. Richard will have a more informed opinion

A seabird, floating effortlessly on the howling updraft, observing me, curiously. "Why is he having such difficulty? Inferior species!"

Glorious colours on the bracken covered slopes

A 'lawn' on top of the cliff and then a vertical drop to the sea. Lovely

Looking back along the coast

Back down at sea level, the path crossed this rock "bridge" which the sea had carved out. It is called the Devil's Cauldron. Hard to capture, but you get the picture!

Looking back down the coast. The furthest headland is yesterday's Dinas Head

Voila! A manicured path on the flat. I couldn't believe my eyes!

That is Camaes Head, the last headland of the journey and tomorrow's objective

A lovely country stream to complete the day