Around Britain

My train journey from London went well. I took the 10.23 from Euston, changed at Birmingham International, and arrived at Aberystwyth at 3.20. My plan was to walk about 10 miles to my hotel in Llanrhystub. This would give me manageable sections for the next three days. Availability of hotel rooms is the crucial factor in determining the extent of each day's walk.

I walked away from Aberystwyth Town Centre on a minor road between River Rheidol and the railway. This road joined the A4120 and then the A487. I walked a short stretch of that to the village of Rhydyfelin where I turned towards the sea on a minor road. This soon crossed River Ystwyth. Both this river and the Rheidol discharge into Aberystwyth Harbour.

Just before I crossed the Ystwyth Bridge I heard a Welsh voice. I looked over the parapet expecting to see a boat but there was nothing. The voice carried clearly across the water but its source remained a mystery. As I walked away from the far side of the bridge I saw vehicles parked near the foot of the bridge. That dispelled the mystery.

The road tracked the river for a short while and then climbed well above it (165 metres at the highest point). Traffic was very light and the area almost unpopulated. I saw a few farms and a pets home. A turning off to Morfa Bycham gave access to a holiday park (caravans and campers welcome). An attractive but totally isolated house was for sale. Who would buy it? Perhaps someone seeking sanctuary from all human contact. It would require a powerful compulsion to drive one to accept the inconvenience of so remote a location. I couldn't see the extent of the land being sold with the house. The prospective buyer might be a passionate smallholder content with plants and animals as companions.

When I saw the hamlet of Blaenplwyf down below me I knew that I was close to rejoining the A487. Alas there was no pavement, just a broad white line at the edge of the road and a narrow verge. By now people were leaving work so the road was busy, a narrow two lane highway with cars moving fast - hell on earth for cyclists and pedestrians. I had to endure this until I escaped onto a minor road north of Llanddeiniol. The road was a dead end and had no traffic whilst I used it. It had a band of grass down the middle. As I neared the end of this road I heard a man shout 'Shoot' but I couldn't see him. Then a woman's angry voice exploded in a cluster of expletives. Again I could see no one although the voices were fairly close. I reached a gate close to where the voices came from. Unable to open it, I climbed over. Another gate gave me access to a track marked white with red dots (other route with public access according to my O.S.Map). This took me to the village of Llanddeiniol. There were several houses, farm buildings, a chapel and a church but I saw no one. I suppose one reason for these villages surviving is that property is so cheap that the inhabitants are prepared to drive elsewhere for everything they need and their work.

I now faced less than a mile on the A487 to reach my destination. There was a verge I stepped onto every time a vehicle approached. I turned off onto a minor road which meant that I missed the village centre. Penrhos Park was just outside the village. This turned out to be a Golf and Country Club with a hotel, swimming pool and gym. It also had both 18 and 9 hole golf courses and a driving range. My room was in one of several separate buildings away from the club house. It was mercifully quiet. When I was in the crowded bar for my meal there was a constant babble of noise. The staff were pleasant and the food was basic standard fare (lasagne, fish and chips, burgers etc.).

Distance today 9.69 miles; total 2937.44

After discussion with an authoritative man in reception, I changed my plan. I'd intended to walk minor roads wherever possible and endure the A487 when I had to. The advice I got was to use the WCP. Apparently a lot of money has been spent over the last ten years on WCP signage. I could access the WCP via a minor road leading from Llanrhystub to the sea. Despite adverse previous experience of the WCP, I decided to risk it.

In the village I stopped at the P.O. and Convenience Store to buy a paper. My mouth felt dry so I also bought perhaps the worst coffee that I've ever had. The machine released hot water into a plastic cup. At the bottom of the cup there was a protective layer of plastic that had to be lifted out to reveal the instant Cappuccino powder. I took my cup to a bench near the shop and discovered slimy globules floating on the surface of the tasteless liquid. I should have stirred it. Nevertheless I drank every drop, leaving only the undissolved material, as I felt that I needed it in the muggy conditions.

I took the road to the sea as advised encouraged by a finger post providing the distances to Llanon (3) and Aberaeron (7.25). A gentle rain began to fall despite the weather forecast having ruled out that possibility. At a parking area next to the beach there was another WCP sign pointing south along the coast. But there wasn't a path to be seen. Instead I was confronted by a wide bank of circular stones. I moved along the bank's flattish top and saw a couple more of the signs. It was impossible to walk at any speed as the stones shifted underneath one's feet. Then I noticed a strip of land between the stone bank and a barbed wire fence that might make better walking. The vegetation had been flattened there so others had probably used it as a path. I pushed through an area of shrubs in which the path disappeared. But then things improved. The WCP was never strong but it was apparent. It needed more doubters like myself to use it and all would be well.

In no time Llanon Church appeared ahead. I moved cautiously through a field full of docile cows to approach the church. The cows had massed near a gate as if expecting something to happen there. I edged past them and then had to climb over the gate onto a good path. I exchanged greetings with a couple of walkers with packs who'd stopped for a moment. At the church I paused and the couple caught me up. They were walking the WCP and had stayed at Penrhos Park last night. They were Germans speaking excellent English. On another trip they'd walked the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path. There they'd encountered other walkers about once an hour. On the WCP they hardly met anyone. The rain became a trifle more insistent. The Germans were covered head to foot in waterproofs but the man in particular was anxious to take shelter in the church. We parted amicably and I said that I looked forward to seeing them again later.

I walked through Llanon and found myself on a stony beach underneath a low earthy cliff. There were two metal staircases attached to the cliff. I climbed each in the hope that one of them would give me access to WCP but neither did. Eventually at a car park just above the beach I found a gate giving access to WCP which continued above the cliff.

I now enjoyed an excellent section. The path was clear and seemed well used. The views were superb and after a while I could see the peninsula and a white smudge that gradually transformed itself into New Quay. A succession of ascents and descents slowed progress but how much better this was than the alternative. I met a youngish couple who'd walked without packs from Aberaeron and were heading for Llanrhystub. Once there they'd either walk back or take a bus. I told them that they'd meet a German couple who'd fallen behind me when they took shelter from the rain. At this the man exclaimed “We're British!” implying that sheltering from the rain was something we'd never do.

I thought I'd reached Aberaeron but in fact it was Aberarth. There seemed to be a local festival as I saw models of crabs and a puffin around the back streets. I stopped at their War Memorial. On a simple column were attached metal disks with the names and years of birth and death. Four men had died in the First World War and three in the Second. As I studied the Memorial a black dog ran up to me barking aggressively. I adopted a defensive position and stared at the animal menacingly. The owners appeared and the man apologised. I was slightly slow to accept his apology. Clearly the dog was badly trained. I concede that dogs are bound to defend their own territory but I don't accept that dogs should behave like that on common ground.

At Aberaeron I stopped for a sandwich and coffee. The town was lively and full of tourists. There were numerous cafes to cater for them and prices seemed rather high. The cafe I chose listed various sandwiches and I opted for cheese. I asked whether some tomato could be added but the young man at the counter said that the chef had given strict instructions that nothing on the menu could be changed. I had to accept this so I did.

There's a large harbour in Aberaeron which I had to walk around to make progress. I saw a plaque nearby which commemorated the town's past in shipbuilding. Between 1793 and 1883 numerous Brigs, Brigantines, Ketches, Sloops, Smacks and Schooners were built here. The names of the shipbuilders and of all the ships they built were listed. Many people were sitting or walking around the harbour. It was a half-tide harbour and the section furthest from the sea was dry during my visit. There were many small boats in this area, leaning on their side.

I now started today's final section which would take me to New Quay. Again the condition of the WCP was excellent. I saw a woman just off the path using binoculars so I asked her what she was looking at. She replied that she thought she'd seen a dolphin out at sea but wasn't sure. On the harbour wall at New Quay, she informed me, a Marine Conservation Group kept watch from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. to monitor the dolphins. There were also porpoises and seals in the sea around here.

As I entered New Quay I came upon a car that had been driven straight into a roadside wall. The wall had been destroyed. The accident was recent as the young men who'd been the passengers were milling about and one was making a phone call, no doubt to report the accident and summon assistance. Shortly afterwards I reached my hotel by the harbour. I learnt that Dylan Thomas had lived here for a while and local characters had inspired 'Under Milk Wood.'

Distance today 13.44. Total 2950.88

It was a steep climb out of New Quay on an already warm and sunny day. I followed the A486 until Maen-y-groes. There I turned right onto a minor road which passed through Nanternis, Llwyndafydd and Penbontrhydyfothau. The smallest of these villages had the longest name. At Pontgarreg I flirted briefly with the B4321 which then headed off to Llangrannog on the coast. There were substantial and well maintained houses on the road heading south west from Pontgarreg. Those few people that I saw seemed to come from the ranks of the retired and affluent.

At Penmorfa I came across a shop on the road with mobile homes ranged behind it. The shop had only opened for an hour earlier in the day but they had an outside tap which passers by were invited to use to top up their water. I gratefully took advantage of this. Without it my two bottles might not have been enough. I was having to stop for a gulp quite often as my mouth turned dry indicating dehydration.

The background today was the cricket World Cup. This has become something of an English obsession as they've never won it. Australians, who've won it five times, have been known to comment on this. We were playing New Zealand in the final. As the team in form and pre-tournament favourite, we had to win it this time. New Zealand had never won it either and were likely to put up a good fight as they'd beaten India in their semi-final.

Vodafone coverage in this part of Wales is patchy. During a period of coverage I saw that NZ were scoring at only about 4 runs an over and had lost a wicket. I then overheard a radio commentary issuing from a roadside garden. A wicket fell at that moment and NZ were 118 for 3, still struggling to score on a slow pitch. It sounded promising but an English batting collapse is never impossible.

I climbed and descended throughout the day. At Tresaith on the coast I turned towards Aberporth. I didn't have time to stop there as I harboured hopes of catching the last stages of the match on T.V. I passed two metal towers near a Solar Farm on an overgrown path. The towers were barricaded off with warnings that they were Government property and access was forbidden to the unauthorised.

I was now on the last long stretch to Cardigan. After Felinwynt I saw ahead of me a man going backwards and forwards on the road with a very noisy piece of equipment. He looked like he was mowing a lawn. As I came closer I could see vegetation cut down from shrubs next to the road. The implement turned out to be a sweeper. It looked rusty and very old. I hoped for some conversation but, although the man seemed agreeable, he showed no interest in me or in anything I might have to say. I can't blame him for that. It was just one of those days when no sparks are struck.

NZ scored 241 in their 50 overs. That didn't seem much of a total but England were 59 for 2 and scoring at an even slower rate than their opponents. Before Fenwig I turned onto the last section of road to Cardigan. A large People Carrier slowed down and someone shouted an offer of a lift. I politely declined.

English hopes were sustained by a 5th wicket stand between Ben Stokes and Jos Buttler but the scoring rate was still too slow.

The address of my hotel, the Red Lion, was in my rucksack so when I approached the Cardigan town centre, I prepared to ask someone for directions. The first man I chose asked me to help him find an address just before I spoke to him. He spoke haltingly with a strong foreign accent. I said that I'd been about to ask him a similar question. We both laughed. He thanked me perhaps because he didn't know enough English to say anything else.

When I did find it the hotel looked unpromising. It was away from the centre and the loud music in the bar made conversation an effort. However, my room was fine and money had clearly been spent on the shower cubicle.

England needed 24 runs from the last two overs and had lost wickets steadily after the dismissal of Buttler. Stokes was still in. Then 15 were needed in the last over. Two dot balls were bowled so 15 were needed from 4 balls. Stokes hit the third ball high and far. A New Zealander caught it but, in doing so, stepped on the boundary so it was a 6. The next ball was hit and they ran 2. As he completed his second run Stokes inadvertently hit the ball with his bat and it ran away to the boundary. 2 + 4 = 6.

3 runs required in 2 balls. A single off the first and then Wood was run out going for the second run off the last ball. It was a tie! A super over was needed. Stokes and Buttler (who else) scored 15 for England. NZ had scored 14 after 5 balls. Off the last ball an NZ batsman was run out going for a second run. The super over also was tied! England were the winners as they had scored more boundaries in their innings than NZ. If ever a side was entitled to feel hard done by it was NZ today.

The hotel didn't provide an evening meal so I asked a man standing just outside the public bar for a recommendation. The man, in his own words, was pissed but he tried to help, albeit incoherently. I didn't want to arouse his antipathy by walking away. I listened patiently as he damned the Chinese restaurant and recommended an Indian operating out of a boat on the River Teifi. Having thanked him for his advice, I walked into the town centre. Most places had served Sunday lunch and then closed. In the end I settled on the Chinese and it was a relief to eat something as I'd had nothing since breakfast except a packet of hotel biscuits.

Distance today 18.83 miles. Total 2969.71

Another fine day. I was the only guest at breakfast. The chef was a young man who played for one of Cardigan's two football teams. His team had performed well last season but when it came to their last match they 'bottled it,' lost to an inferior team and missed promotion. He loved tennis and had watched the epic final between Federer and Djokovic yesterday rather than the cricket.

I left the hotel just after 9 o'clock and bought a paper from W.H.Smith in the High Street. The front and back pages were devoted to one photo – that of Buttler running out Guptill to win the match for England. I crossed the bridge over River Teifi and took the B4546 to St. Dogmaels. I passed four or five people between the two towns and all of them greeted me. That does make a difference. After leaving the B4546 in St. Dogmaels I climbed on a minor road. This passed the odd farm but no villages. The road peaked at 165 metres near an isolated cemetery.

Just before Moylgrove a sign to the Pavilion Cafe tempted me. I actually started to walk towards it but I changed my mind and carried on. Moylgrove itself was a delightful village. Streams ran through well tended gardens. By the old school there was a bench and, above it, a map of the village and the surrounding area giving the name and location of every house. This was a boon for the delivery men who might otherwise have made a nuisance of themselves knocking on doors for directions.

Soon after Moylgrove I went off map. My photocopying had missed out a section of 4-5 miles between Moylgrove and Newport (not the Newport). It didn't much matter as Newport was well signposted. I was walking high up looking out to the sea on my right. After Moylgrove there were no more villages and hardly any housing. The highest point on this section was 186 metres where there was a Trig Point.

Nothing happened for ages and then I saw a few vehicles parked together with two figures standing in the road. Maybe there'd been an accident? As I came up a rough looking farm worker gave me an instruction I didn't understand but it seemed that he wanted me to stop. I was baffled but I did comply. A young woman dressed in overalls explained. She was a vet and the cattle were about to be checked for TB. It was imperative that all of them should be checked at the same time. Two other farm workers down the road were trying to usher the herd down a track, across the road and into a farmyard. The farm worker didn't want me to suddenly find myself in the middle of all this. It might have been dangerous. A shout from down the road indicated that the cattle had turned around and gone back into their field. The road was clear and I was allowed to proceed.

After a while I saw Newport on the side of a hill ahead of me. First I had to cross the Nevern Estuary, a major spot for bird watching. I could see the WCP on the far side of the river but I decided to leave it until my next trip. I caught the bus from Newport to Fishguard as I'd booked my hotel there near the station

Distance today 10.63; total 2980.34.

I took the 9.20 bus from Fishguard centre to Newport (a small town on the road to Cardigan). The journey took 15 minutes and I took a coffee and flapjack in the cafe I'd patronised on my previous visit. At 9.50 I walked down to the coastal path on the south side of the Nevern estuary. Soon I came to Sands on the coast - a place dedicated to the delights of boating. Almost everyone wore a life jacket. Either they had a boat moored just offshore or they aspired to get a ride on someone else's. A woman in a life jacket stood on a stony shore wringing her hands and exclaiming 'You are my deliverer.' She addressed another (also in a life jacket), submerged up to his waist, hauling in a boat from its mooring.

The Coastal Path picked its way amongst this activity, circumvented a busy camp site, then headed westwards. The day was sunny but a stiff breeze saved one from the heat. Progress was laboured as I would head inland and then back to get around inlets and coves. Often the path followed the top of a precipitous rocky cliff. Hedges on either side provided the illusion of security but certain death was only two steps away. The Coastal Path was well used on this stretch and people were in a cheerful holiday mood. Some were staying in campsites nearby. A father walked alone to meet up with his adolescent child and five friends to provide support. I told him I'd passed the group resting in a cove not far away.

On the eastern side of Dinas Head I stopped at a bleak church yard with a few scattered tomb stones. The 12th century church at Cwm-yr-Eglwys had been destroyed in the great storm of October 1859. Only the belfry and the western wall supporting it remained standing. The same storm had wrecked the Royal Charter and 133 smaller ships. The Royal Charter had been built in 1855 and was a steam/sail hybrid that could make the voyage from Australia in a record 59 days. On board were many miners carrying gold extracted from Australian fields worth tens of millions in today's money. The ship was driven towards the rocks but became stuck on a sandbank. Local people got a line onto the ship with a view to taking the passengers ashore. About 40 were saved but the tide lifted the ship off the sandbank and it broke up on the rocks. All the rest of the passengers and crew died.

On the western side of Dinas Head there was a cove and a car park that had drawn many visitors. Some of them were walking onto Dinas Head. As I climbed up from the cove on the Coastal Path I saw a lizard, browny green, 4 inches long, on top of a gate post. We stared at each other. The lizard seemed nervous but, at the same time, curious. It didn't seem as scared as I would have been if confronted by a creature so much bigger than myself. Eventually it took cover in a clump of ivy.

Fishguard had now come into view in the far distance. I could see the white Ferry moored in Fishguard Harbour. Later I could make out the words 'Stena Line' on the ship's side. The ferry backed out of the harbour leaving a white line of wake stretching out from the bow. Once out into Fishguard Bay the ferry started to go forward and soon disappeared on its way to Rosslare near Wexford in Ireland.

Back at the hotel the Finnish proprietor (Christina) asked me whether I knew the French had invaded here in 1797. There was a tapestry to commemorate this in the Library on the first floor of the Town Hall. The tapestry was conceived to celebrate the bicentenary of the invasion in 1997. It was a fine piece of work designed by a local artist and stitched by local embroiderers. It was similar in style to the Bayeux tapestry. However, this invasion had been less successful. 1400 French troops landed, got drunk, ransacked Llanwnda church, raided local homes before surrendering unconditionally to the local militia without a fight. The French all went to prison.

Distance today 8.44; total 2988.78.

Christina had placed me at the communal breakfast table almost opposite the man of colour (David) that I'd seen around the hotel yesterday. He seemed to be on friendly terms with Christina and I understood that he was buying something in the shops on her behalf. We both had newspapers but it seemed rude just to say 'Good morning' and then ignore each other. David explained that he was staying in the hotel as he'd sold his house and was waiting for his new house to be ready. He'd worked in the City as an Investment Banker for Barclays. He found the pace of life in Fishguard a relief after the work he used to do. He did some consultancy work locally. This included the financing of a project to harness the power of the tides to bring extra energy to the town. He said that the wires bringing energy from the grid were at the limit of their capacity. We had a good talk.

Christina offered me a second rasher of bacon this morning which I took as a sign of her approval. She sometimes wears a blanket over her dress. A small white Scottie type dog trails round the ground floor, barking half-heartedly at strangers. The ground floor is very untidy. The reception desk is covered with papers. Christina has a small corridor-like room, presumably her office. She often sits in there with the light off. I could see her silhouetted against the small window at the far end away from the door. She was very willing to talk about her life and how she came to buy the hotel. She'd meant to buy a B & B but the hotel was available cheap after a bankruptcy.

I walked to Goodwick then climbed westwards on a steep hill. I found the minor road headed south west at a junction after walking a couple of miles. The road sign indicated the hamlets of Rhosycaerau and St. Nicholas. These were both set away from the road. I was high up and looked down on the landscape inland. I passed one or two solitary houses but generally no one had chosen to live there except farmers. It was too isolated.

Today I walked along many sunken lanes with high banks on either side. I assume these have been used for centuries. Before roads were paved the mud on these roads would have dried and been blown away as dust. Over the course of time this would result in the road level falling below that of the adjacent countryside. This had the effect of protecting travellers from the wind and the worst of the weather.

I passed near Tregwynt woollen mill, Morfa Farm and Trefelyn to reach Abercastle, a small village set above a sea cove but there was no sign of any amenities there. However, there was a board with an arrow indicating a pub and Tea Rooms in Trefin. Trefin was a larger village with children playing in the street. I'd almost reached the end of it when I spotted the Ship Inn. I entered the empty pub with a young boy sitting behind the bar. “Did you want to see my mum?” When I asked his mum for a sandwich she said she only did bar snacks without saying what they were. She did tell me that I'd get a sandwich in the Tea Rooms next door. These were full of customers with nowhere to sit down except outside where the rain had started to fall. I stood by a table laden with equipment. I asked the man at the table whether he was a musician setting up to play. He said he was a mobile post office and he was just packing up so as to be ready to leave. Whilst waiting for him I checked Google Maps and was delighted to see that I only had about 7.5 miles to go to St. Davids. After a pot of tea and a sandwich I set off again.

I walked through about four showers during the afternoon but none was severe enough to justify waterproof trousers. My shorts got soaked but dried quickly. I walked through Llanrhuan, Berea and Rhodiad-y-Brenin. By good chance I entered St. Davids by the road upon which my Guest House stood. It was bang in the centre near restaurants and a newsagent. The place was full of visitors and at 7 p.m. I had to book a table for 8.30 in a pub to secure a meal.

Today's distance 17.89 miles; total 3006.67.

I enjoyed another fine day although I was often walking into a stiff breeze. I left St. Davids at 9.20 on the A487. At a school on the outskirts I diverted onto cycle route 4 on a minor road. At Whitchurch an elderly man bearing a stick returned my greeting. He was the first person I'd encountered apart from cyclists. Five roads converged on Middle Mill on the River Solva. The water mill dates from 1781. Behind it is a commercial woollen mill (Solva Woollen Mill) which currently specialises in making stair carpets. It opened in 1907 and is the oldest working woollen mill in Pembrokeshire.

I crossed the river on a stone bridge possibly dating from the late 18th century. Of the five converging roads I took the one running parallel to and to the north of the A487. I only passed one house on the road from Middle Mill to Rickeston Hall airfield. At the airfield I turned left past a substantial camp site. At a T junction I turned left into a dead end road to find a path to the A487. This saved me about half a mile. Access to the path was indicated by a sign but it seemed that no one ever used it. By following the hedge of a massive field I reached the road near Penycwm. This was one of those places with a name sign before and after but little in between. I was now back to my old game of dodging traffic. The descent into Newgale was steep which slowed everything down. At Newgale I stopped at a cafe for a hot chocolate and a piece of Bara Brith (fruit loaf).

Newgale is popular with holiday makers, windsurfers, surfers and canoeists and there's a large camp site separated from the beach by the A487. The beach is backed by a large pebble bank created by the storm of 1859 mentioned in the last Monday's entry. Although this acts as a defence against the sea, it's often breached. When that happens rocks are washed onto the main road. In the storm of January 2014 the pebble bank was thrown onto the road and a large wave washed a bus onto the field beyond. I suspect Newgale will be vulnerable to any rise in the sea level.

Newgale has a pub and a couple of cafes but little accommodation apart from the camping. There was a public loo but I don't know whether the campers had other facilities. I saw a couple in wet suits walking towards the beach with their surf boards. Beyond water sports there's little to do here but it does seem very popular.

One thing I noticed along this coast were the Lifeguard Stations. These are housed in standardized white cubicles above the beaches. I'm sure there's a vital need for them and that many visitors probably owe their life to these life guards.

I now followed the minor road down the coast going directly south. I passed through Nolton Haven, Druidston Haven (the site of a significant hotel) and Broad Haven. Broad Haven is a resort with a fine beach. It is linked to UFO sightings. On 4th February 1977 a yellow cigar shaped object is believed to have landed in a field next to Broadhaven Primary School. A group of 14 children playing football saw the craft and a silver creature. The headmaster asked the children to draw what they'd seen and he was surprised at how similar the drawings were. On 17th February 1977 the same craft was seen by some teachers at the school and by some dinner ladies, one of whom saw a creature make its way onto the craft.

Broad Haven's beach was far from crowded. A few stalwarts had erected wind breaks and set up chairs on the leeward side. I resisted a coffee stop and pressed on uphill and then down again to reach Little Haven. This was crowded with people pulling small boats along the street, sitting at bars and restaurants and strolling about. I strode through, feeling very much the odd outsider, unable to stop walking and enjoy a relaxing life like everyone else seemed to be doing. I continued through Talbenny, over Slatemill Bridge to reach Marloes and the pub where I'd booked to spend the night.

The polite young man behind the bar asked me whether I'd mind waiting as the person in charge of B & B wouldn't be back for 15 to 20 minutes. I said I'd walked a long way so would it be possible to ring that person. He did without success but showed me to a room anyway for which I was grateful. However, I did think that for £95 they might have left a couple of biscuits in the room.

Distance today 20 miles; total 3026.67.

At about 6.15 I realised that my room had not been supplied with loo paper. I went downstairs to raid the bar toilet but the bar was locked. That was fair. The owner didn't want me stealing any alcohol in the small hours. The unsmiling, almost hostile, face with which he'd greeted me last evening when I went down for my meal suggested that he already suspected me of some heinous crime. At 6.45 I rang the hotel phone number which was on message only. I left a remarkably restrained message. I left a second message later (equally calm) but then I started to ring repeatedly at short intervals leaving no further message. This provoked no reaction. At 7.30 a door opened in the corridor outside my room. I leapt out to confront a bearded man, heavily built. 'Are you a guest here?' I asked. 'No, I make the breakfast.' I mentioned the problem and he produced a loo roll within seconds. The bearded man cooked me such an enormous breakfast that I couldn't eat it all even though I expected it to be my main meal that day.

At 9 am I set off, stopping at the village shop to buy a paper. I had to walk round Sandyhaven Pill as there was no bridge over this inlet. Shortly after Herbrandston there was a sign to South Hook Terminal. This is the largest LNG (liquified natural gas) terminal in Europe. It receives from Qatar up to 25% of the LNG we import. The LNG is re-gasified at the terminal and then transmitted to the national gas network. The first LNG tanker unloaded there in 2009.

Soon afterwards I was in Milford Haven and found the station. My intended train had been the 1508 to Cardiff Central but I was about 40 minutes early for the 1308. An elderly couple had taken cover in a small perspex shelter on the platform to wait for the train. I chatted to them for a while and then went off in search of a coffee.

Distance today 8.67; total 3035.34.