The Wales trip last weekend was great. Fresh air and fresh water, lots of green and countryside. We left on Friday for Swansea (city in Wales) and stayed overnight. Met some colourful characters on the train – 2 nice guys that were headed to Ireland – one Irish, one Welsh. They were asking what 2 girls from Canada were doing going to hike in Wales – “You left the Rockies to hike in Wales?”. They had a good laugh about that.
Spent Saturday morning walking around Swansea, a good indication of the hike to come was the abundance of outdoor shops in Swansea selling hiking and camping gear. A great sign! We hopped on a train headed to Tenby, where we were spending Saturday and Sunday nights. On the train we decided it would be far too boring to take the train all the way to Tenby, so we got off at Saundersfoot, another coastal town and hiked with our packs from Saundersfoot to Tenby. The hike was only 3 hours, but the terrain was like doing 6 mini-grouse grinds – lots of up and down and up and down. And mud, boy was there lots of mud! My first time hiking with a pack – mental note – next time pack walking poles as I need to work on my balance.
On the first day, we kept seeing these signs, labeled “Cliffs Kill: Keep to path”. With the tame trails on the first day we found these signs rather funny as we felt we were in no danger at all. For the most part from Saundersfoot to Tenby the terraine changed from hiking through the forest (what we’re used to in BC) to walking on footpaths through farmland (which we got used to in the Peaks district a few weeks ago). Finally, near the end of the trail, Tenby came into view – a former walled city and a striking candy-coloured coastal town.
Then, mini-distaster strikes. Beware of eating at restaurants that haven’t been recommended to you (especially in the UK). I ended up eating something that disagreed with me and could barely sleep that night with stomach pains. Argh. Sunday morning comes, our big day of walking and I’m sleep deprived with no appetite. Not a good way to start off. And it’s raining.
So I fill up on toast, put on my rain gear and we head out. The walks starts with a flat 4 kilometers walk on a beach. According to our guidebook this is a “great chance to take off your shoes and walk barefoot along the sand”. In gale force winds? Not a chance. Gale force winds may be an exaggeration, all I know is the wind was so loud I couldn’t hear anything and it felt like the wind desperately wanted to knock me over.
The rain let up just in time for us to climb a nice peak and walk right through the…wait for it…military firing range. Thankfully they barely use it on Sunday’s. Once walking through a few gates labeled “Military property, keep out” (“but the book said it was OK”), we stumble across a few horses. It was surreal, we’re on a clifftop, walking through a military firing range and now we have to walk past a few horses (with 10 feet between the horses and the cliff edge) and hope we don’t spook them and have them charge at us and force us off the cliff. Kim seemed worried, not worried enough to not stop and take a picture, but worried all the same. I was not fussed. My rationale “my sister is good with horses, therefore it must be some sort of family trait and therefore I’m probably good with horses too”. Not too logical, I just didn’t to have to walk across that damn beach again.
Inched closer to the horses – Are their ears flat against their head? – Nope. Can I see the whites of their eyes? – Nope. Ok, we’re good to go. Horses not going to bolt at all, just interested in eating the grass (military firing range grass that is).
We soldier on. We leave the military firing range and horses behind and can breathe easy again.
Until we look at the cliffs. Those signs, those multiple versions of “cliffs kill” signs – in words and in pictures, in case you didn’t get their drift. I understand them now. I look down – man that sea (ocean, body of water whatever it was) looks angry. The waves crash on the rocks and send white spray everywhere. Ah, cliffs, they kill. Not so funny anymore. Legs shakey. Cursing myself, “why didn’t I buy those hiking poles in Swansea for better stability?”. Oh well, nothing a milk chocolate digestive biscuit can’t fix. Should’ve brought a thermos along for tea, next time, next time…
Three point five hours into the hike, my body starts a conversation with me. “Remember that time when you were training for the marathon and ran 10km while you had a bad bladder infection before realizing something was wrong? Remember how you kept running and wouldn’t stop until you realized that it was 28 degrees and sunny outside and you were alternating between shivering cold and feverish hot? Remember how sick you got after it? Yup, well that’s what you’re in for if you keep this hike up with a sick stomach. And by the way, what’s with the chocolate covered digestive biscuit? You couldn’t have picked up an apple on your way out? Noooo, just had to eat the bickey”.
Time to listen to my body. We cut through a farm and head to Manorbier for lunch, shelter and rest. After 20 minutes in a restaurant and not being served, briefly considered leaving. But to where? One of the two other restaurants in the village? Odds are the waitresses are so slow because they are waiting tables at all three restaurants at the same time. Better stick to having lunch here, rather to leave and be ignored somewhere else.
What else did I do in Manorbier, you say? Well, outside of the three restaurants, there is also a castle. A small castle, very old, manned by a nice old lady who felt generous and let me pay the student rate (I guess the poor and dishevelled look really works for me). Alright, highlight of the castle? Seeing a little toddler watch by with a shirt on that said, no, demanded “I WANT CHOCOLATE, CHIPS AND CAKE”. Now here’s a person I can relate to! If it wasn’t completely socially inappropriate and creepy to take a picture of someone’s child, I would have been right there with my camera, taking a picture of this true little Brit.
I get the greatest feeling once I’ve hiked a mountain and am back down, standing at the base of the trail. I can say – “I made it all the way up there, all by myself”. It’s pretty gratifying. I walked all the way up there and all the way back down, without getting eaten by a bear or a cougar. Well done. I was looking for the same sort of gratification after my coastal walk, and didn’t quite find it. Especially after taking the 20 minute long, £2.45 bus ride back to Tenby. I guess I’ll just have to be satisfied with the fact that cliffs may kill, but they didn’t kill me. Current score Cliffs: 0, Me: 1.
