Around Britain

I arrived in Milford Haven at 4.25 p.m. having started out from London Paddington at 11.15 a.m. Almost at once I had to don my waterproof jacket in a brisk shower. After negotiating the streets of Milford Haven above the waterfront, I went through an area called Pill. I then found a section of Welsh Coast Path (WCP) before a bridge took me over an inlet on the B4325. On the far side of the bridge I turned off the B road into an area of housing where numerous “Strictly Private” signs hinted that outsiders were not very welcome. Even some of the roads were private. I met a couple of middle aged walkers who directed me back to the B road to follow the WCP. By way of return I was able to direct them to the bridge I'd just crossed.

After a brief spell on the B road I turned off on the WCP to Venn Farm. Through a gate I entered a field where the path, strong until then, disappeared. I came to a belt of impenetrable woodland. By walking up and down in front of it I found the WCP on a clear path through the wood. To my left was a protected area cordoned off by a high wire fence topped by barbed wire. This area was marked on my map as a refinery. I reached the top of a cliff and the path ran above a great expanse of water called Milford Haven. The car ferry between Pembroke and Rosslare in Ireland sailed this way as I'd experienced myself two days previously.

Ahead there was a series of enormous wind turbines. Below there were several jetties. From one of these jetties multiple white pipelines ran up a slope inland through a deep cleft in the cliff. There was a pedestrian bridge over this made of stretched wire. Every time I took a step the bridge floor moved. It didn't feel very secure with a long drop down to the pipes. Later I encountered a similar bridge over a road with a board running along one side. This, I discovered later, was for dogs as otherwise their paws would slip through the holes in the wire. It was also used by badgers.

Soon after crossing the second bridge I heard a woman shouting at her dogs. I came upon them and one of the dogs, a cocker spaniel, rushed at me. I stood my ground. The woman completely ignored me and set off down the path at a great pace calling at her dogs to follow. It occurred to me that she was frightened of me. It was an isolated spot. The fact that I was steadily overhauling her possibly increased her concern. She never looked round but continued to shout at her dogs. These were one year olds, full of energy and out of control.

In an attempt to reassure the woman, I asked whether I was close to the Ferry House Inn. She said I was, still shouting and still not turning round. We had an intermittent conversation about the dogs, the political state of the nation and the lack of capable leadership. She yearned for the return of Margaret Thatcher despite disagreeing with her on some issues. When our ways parted she faced me and told me that my destination was down the hill about half a mile away. I said that I'd enjoyed talking to her. What I meant was that it was a relief to have any sort of conversation after such an unpromising beginning.

I walked straight past the Inn without noticing it. Some time later I met a group of five women who instructed me to turn round and walk back the way I'd come. They were renting a holiday home nearby. One of the women walked with me to make sure I didn't pass the Inn again. The sign was very discreet and in colouring not dissimilar to that of the building itself.

The friendly barman told me that the bridge had put paid to the car ferry. There'd been a fatal accident to workers during the construction which had delayed the opening of the bridge. The barman found on his phone a photo of the ferry in 1978 but it had stopped soon after that.

Distance today 4.22 miles; total 3039.56

I was the only person breakfasting in the restaurant. I set off at about 9.45. I walked along the Hazelbeach Promenade until I reached Neyland. In the High Street I bought a paper and settled in a cafe to start reading it over a cappuccino. The cafe was seeking temporary staff as an employee was pregnant. A man in his twenties came in to ask about the job. In response to questions he said that he'd never done this type of work before and that he didn't know how to operate a coffee machine. He offered no C.V. Nor was he asked for one. The woman in charge said they'd had other interest so would he leave his name and number. Did this man seriously want the job? If so, why didn't he offer a C.V.? A customer in the cafe described his experiences walking around Wales. When I said that I was walking over the bridge, he said that the wind would force me down onto my hands and knees. Thus encouraged, I made for the bridge.

There was a bit of wind but at least it was dry. I found the WCP and left Neyland through woodland. I joined the A477 just before the first and lesser bridge which crossed high above a marina on an inlet. Just before I reached the main bridge over the Daugleddau it started to rain. I put my waterproof trousers on over my shorts. As I started my crossing a runner came off the bridge in the opposite direction to myself followed soon after by a walker. This was encouraging but the wind got up and the rain became heavy. I'd already removed my cap and held down the hood of my jacket as I battled across. By the time I reached the far side I was in a rain storm. As I struggled along the main road towards Pembroke, the rain intensified. The pavement was awash with water flowing downhill away in front of me. The road was flooded and I was repeatedly showered with water thrown up by the passing traffic. This didn't bother me at all as I was soaked through by the rain hitting me from above. Extra water swamping me from the side made no difference. I took cover briefly in a bus shelter to consult my map. Later I sheltered in the tunnel under a railway to re-pack my bag in a vain effort to protect my newspaper.

As I crossed the Pembroke River, the rain stopped. Suddenly there were people in the streets. Normality resumed. I was standing beside Pembroke Castle. The original castle was built in 1093 to fortify the promontory beside the Pembroke River during the Norman invasion of Wales. In 1189 Richard 1 gave the castle to William Marshall, an extraordinary figure in British history. He became Lord Marshall of England and First Earl of Pembroke and rebuilt the castle to create the stone structure which remains to this day. William Marshall was the younger son of a minor nobleman so he had no inheritance. As a young man he gained prestige by winning tournaments in England and Europe. Tournaments were staged battles, dangerous and often fatal. Success brought valuable prizes through capturing and ransoming beaten opponents, their horses and armour. William Marshall was a great tournament champion. On his deathbed he recalled defeating 500 knights in his tournament career.

In 1189 William Marshall, then aged 43, married the 17 year old daughter of Richard de Clare (Strongbow). Strongbow had been so successful in the Norman invasion of Ireland that he was seen as a threat to Henry 11. The marriage transformed Marshall from being a landless knight from a minor family to one of the most powerful men in England. He served five kings and was a leading figure in the nation until his death in 1219 at the age of 72.

I walked along the busy main street of Pembroke and saw a sign to Tenby (10 miles). I left the town on the A4075 turning right at a crossroads into Deer Park Lane. I now faced a long slog on a quiet country lane used mainly by farmers and local residents. After a few miles I stood at a gate post to eat the bread, cheese and tomatoes left over from yesterday's lunch. It was too wet to sit down anywhere. At the end of Deer Park Lane I turned right to reach the Ridgeway which was busier. I passed no villages or even hamlets after leaving Pembroke until I reached Penally. Then Google Maps took me to my hotel overlooking the harbour. I was almost outside the hotel when I tripped on the road kerb. Unbalanced by my rucksack, I fell badly, sprawling onto the pavement. My reaction was to get up as quickly as possible and keep on walking. Two separate men, observing my fall, came up to ask if I was OK. The second was a healthy looking man with whom I had a brief chat. He remarked that neither of us were youngsters and told me he was 80. I retorted that I was a mere stripling of 76 and asked him if he knew the whereabouts of my hotel. He told me that we were standing outside it.

My room in the hotel slept five. There was a double bed and a single and two bunks in a side room. There were no towels and the only light outside the bathroom that I could see was a weak ceiling light in the entrance lobby above a flight of steps that led into the main room. I pointed this out to reception when I went out in search of a restaurant. In fact I discovered later that there was a side light with a switch in a position which bore no relation to the fitting. At least there was a functioning radiator over which I draped my sodden clothes.

Distance today 15.86 miles; total 3055.42.

This was a soft walking day and the weather held until I reached my destination. Heavy rain was forecast for late afternoon.

It was a steep climb out of Tenby to reach a path on the WCP. I passed a couple of turn offs to Allen's View from land donated to the town by a local woman. After a long descent on artificial material laid to prevent slipping, I reached a road that took me to the A478. On the short stretch of this that I did, there was excellent provision for walkers and cyclists. I branched off at New Hedges onto the B4136 which took me to Saundersfoot on the coast. This was busy with holiday makers so I settled in a quiet cafe just away from the centre. They provided a cappuccino and a toasted tea cake. I read the paper for a while as I didn't want to arrive at my hotel too early.

I climbed out of Saundersfoot on a steep road which led me to Wiseman's Bridge. I sat for a while on a bench overlooking the beach donated in memory of a long term resident of the village who loved this view. Wiseman's Bridge was also busy and ample provision was made for visitors. Riding on the beach was one activity and I saw a small group of horses being led out onto the sands with riders aloft.

The next village along the shore was Amroth where I stopped for a pot of tea and an cream scone. On leaving Amroth I joined the coastal path. I meant to follow it until Marros Beacon but I left it too soon and ended up back on the road just before Telpyn. Shortly before my hotel I passed through Marros. This had a church, a War Memorial and a Riding Centre but very few inhabitants. I saw hardly any houses and a study of the map revealed no more than five. Perhaps there have been new builds not shown on the map.

I reached my hotel situated just before Pendine at 4.30. There were only five bedrooms but the woman apparently in charge had no idea whether I'd booked. She seemed incapable of resolving this so I offered to find the confirmation of booking on my phone. (I stopped printing out booking details a while ago). Fortunately another woman on the staff came to the rescue, the booking was confirmed, my payment taken and I was escorted to my room by a boy of about 8. In response to my enquiry about towels, the boy said that I only had a hand towel. I asked him to fetch me a bath towel which he did.

At 7.30 I left my room for a meal and found myself in profound darkness. I felt around for a switch and found one that didn't work. I knew there were stairs nearby and falling down them was not the way I wanted to start my evening. I edged forward cautiously, sliding my feet along the ground a few inches at a time, hoping to get my night vision. Glimmerings of light showed from the ground floor. I clutched a bannister and descended.

I was handed a short menu. I read this several times hoping there was something I'd missed that might be remotely appetising. There wasn't. I had scampi, chips and peas. The scampi looked like small hand grenades. I smothered them with brown sauce and ate them all.

I was comforted by the sound of torrential rain outside. The sooner it started the better as the rain would pass thus improving my prospects for the hike to Carmarthen tomorrow.

Distance 10.63 miles; total 3066.05.

Breakfast can only be described as a failed assassination attempt by poisoning. My survival relied upon leaving the unbelievably awful tinned tomatoes, tinned mushrooms and insufficiently unfrozen hash browns. It had rained heavily overnight but, by the time I set out (8.55), although the cloud was low, it was mostly dry. I walked inland and steadily uphill. Throughout the day streams of water ran down the roads, often on both sides. The ditches were full and any stream was an angry torrent, desperate to burst its banks.

My direction was north west and the only hamlet on the way was New Mills. South of St. Clears I joined the A4066 briefly before crossing the Rivers Taf and Cynin just north of where they converged. Beyond the second river fields were inundated on either side of the raised concrete road. This road served an area marked as Works on the map. Missing a WCP sign off this road I approached the Works. A van driver was opening a gate to drive out and he started to close the gate as I came up. I asked whether I could go through. “No you can't,” he replied. This was disconcerting but the man had a wide smile on his face. “You've come off the WCP and a lot of people make this mistake.” I'd missed a WCP sign on a post indicating a stile through a hedge adjacent to a bend in the road. I thanked the man, who was very amiable and retraced my steps. I now had to negotiate a muddy field populated by a herd of cattle. I then encountered another stile with a “Beware the bull” notice. This was rather worn and of the bull there was no sign.

I had to pass to the right of a farm called Pant-dwfn. The WCP took me beyond the farm. I was looking for a Trig Point near which there was a path leading to a road junction near another farm called Lanfro. There was a clear path near the Trig Point but it disappeared in the middle of a large field. I walked the hedge/fence at the edge of this field but there was no opening except the one by which I'd entered. I got into an area of liquid mud. One leg went in up to the knee so I hastily retreated the way I'd come. I adopted another route (the WCP) from near the Trig Point although it was taking me too far south. I walked through a frisky herd of cattle some of which followed me menacingly with their heads lowered. I went over or under a few electrified barriers without receiving a shock. A muddy farm road led me to Lanfro close to the road junction I wanted.

I now had to cross the River Gywyn. This looked narrow on the map and there was a road bridge. As I walked down towards it I could see a massive expanse of water covering the valley floor. This was concerning but I pressed on to take a closer look. Before I reached it a car stopped beside me. The couple inside said they'd tried to drive through but didn't want to risk getting stuck with water entering their exhaust pipe so they'd reversed out. They advised me not to attempt a crossing as the flood covered a wide area of uncertain depth. When asked what I intended to do I said that my only option was to walk along the A40 hoping that there was a path for walkers. The couple then offered me a lift, brushing off my concerns that I was too muddy to get inside their car. I thought they were going to drop me off in Carmarthen but they insisted on taking me to the other side of the flood as that fitted in with their own plans. Their kindness was overwhelming. The man was an experienced walker so was sympathetic to my predicament. We had an animated conversation mostly about the walks we had done. The woman was fairly quiet as she was not a walker. We reached the far side of the flood to see a car hesitating on the brink of the inundated road. I don't believe any car took a chance on this. I shook hands with my saviours, thanked them profusely and resumed my walk.

I followed the WCP to Pentrenewydd. My map indicated a pub on route. All the windows and doors were sealed and the roof had completely gone. The Wern Inn acted as a potent symbol of so many rural pubs. I learnt later that it had been destroyed by fire and offered at auction for conversion into flats. It was in an isolated spot and there was no indication of any works to salvage the building. I stopped briefly at a War Memorial near Llangynog to eat a small biscuit and a tangerine thus exhausting all my supplies apart from water.

Later, as I walked past Cwrt Malle Farm, a small but sturdy dog of indeterminate breed emerged from the farm yard, silent, its tail wagging. I'm cautious about farm dogs so I pressed on quickly only to find that the dog was following me at a distance. When he saw that I'd noticed him, the dog came up and sniffed both my legs. The thick coating of fresh mud met with his approval and he adopted me as his companion. When he was ahead, he turned his head constantly to check that I was following.

When I sat down to consult my map, he waited beside me. After a while I began to get concerned. One or two cars went by and slowed down significantly when they saw a dog on the loose. I wasn't far away from Carmarthen and the approach roads would no doubt be busier. To what extent was I responsible for the animal? We reached a junction. One way led to Carmarthen; the other was a road that ran back parallel to the road we'd just walked along. The dog took the second option and I took the first without a backward glance. I realised that the dog had been taking me for a walk on his own territory and that we had just reached its boundary.

I entered Carmarthen and reached my hotel in the centre.

Distance today 15.87 miles (excluding flooded area); total 3081.92.

Friday 15th November 2019

Normally it doesn't make sense to do Around Britain so late in the year when it's dark soon after 4.30. However, I decided to do a couple of days over the coming weekend.

The train took me from London to Carmarthen with one change at Cardiff Central. The last part of the journey coincided with sunset. From about 4 o'clock the sun hovered near the horizon. The lateral illumination this offered revealed a bleak landscape either side of the River Towy. After Kidwelly the view was over River Gwendraeth. Across mud, sand and water there stretched a Danger Area of marshes and dunes invaded by tentacles of tidal water. Danger Area on the map usually indicated MOD activity but this land looked dangerous in its own right.

Salmon Point Scar, an area of rock and sand next to the shore, marked the start of the river. The fading light revealed nothing but low black hills rising from the far side of the Towy. In fact the village of Llansteffan was near the river mouth and the B4312 connected it to Carmarthen. This road ran alongside the river for a while before turning inland. After Ferryside all the vegetation turned black as the sun began to dip out of sight. Just before Ferryside I'd seen two separate individuals on the beach. After that village I saw not a soul nor any dwellings for man or beast. The only sign of agriculture that I saw was a grassy field just before Carmarthen.

My hotel served an excellent breakfast and I left around 9 o'clock. Carmarthen claims to be the town occupied continuously for longer than any other in Wales (2000 years). I bought papers in WH Smith in the centre and made for the river. I soon found the WCP. This passed underneath the A48 and I couldn't see any subsequent opportunity of crossing the river. This forced me to scramble up the side of the bridge to reach the road. The A48 was a dual carriageway with no provision for cyclists and walkers. At a roundabout I transferred to the A484. I passed a group of out of town shopping warehouses before turning onto a minor road leading to Croesyceiliog. This didn't look much on the map but there'd been a lot of building here. I was struck by the dozens of cars parked on the narrow road. They seemed disproportionate to the number of houses nearby. I surmised that there was a large gathering in the village, perhaps political or religious in nature. But everything was quiet. I was itching to ask someone to enlighten me but I saw no one and only heard two people. One was in the depths of his garage and the other behind a high fence. I didn't want to speak to someone I couldn't see. I passed a small modern building called “The Forge”. As I reached the end of the housing I saw three well dressed young people walking two well behaved and clean dogs. They lived locally but knew of nothing going on in the village. There was no village hall or other suitable place for a meeting. Car ownership must have been high due to the absence of any bus service.

Soon after Croesyceiliog I left the road on the WCP. I was moving onto higher ground and had views of River Towy to the west. The path became very muddy. Near Towy Castle Farm I passed ancient ruins. When I got home I tried to get information the castle. There was more information than I could possibly ever want about Towy Castle Care Home but next to nothing about the castle itself. After that there were WCP signs but the the path itself became very indistinct. I negotiated a series of kissing gates placed on concrete bases. No doubt this was to prevent the gates from sinking into the sodden earth. I reached some houses high up at the end of a lane. When I tried unsuccessfully to open a gate a kindly woman put me right. I hadn't spotted the next WCP sign.

I was now back on a minor road. The WCP soon left me as it struck out across country towards Ferryside. The road was very narrow and had sheer banks on both sides. There were no passing places or gates into adjoining fields. If I'd met a tractor one of us would have had to go into reverse. Luckily I met no traffic before I reached a T-junction providing access to a wider road.

I now had a cross country walk over uplands through farms and the odd isolated house. When I reached Kidwelly Road it seemed busy with fast traffic. At Broadway I turned off to Llansaint. This village smelt like a farmyard. On the road out a cheerful man stopped to offer me a lift. I told him I was walking the coastline and, if I accepted his offer, I wouldn't be able to make that claim any more. He chortled merrily and we parted on good terms.

Kidwelly is quite an extensive town. Unaware of everything it had to offer, I went into a convenience store offering coffee out of a machine. I was served by an obese youth whose sallow face registered no emotion. Serving a customer is not necessarily an emotional experience. However, his face didn't register anything else either, such as interest, alertness or animation. A woman in the store, perhaps a few years older, was quite different. She offered to make the coffee for me and, when the machine stalled, she asked this youth to give her the key and to hurry up about it. She also showed me round the store until I chose a flapjack to eat with my coffee. I reckon that someone was doing the youth a massive favour in letting him work in the shop.

Kidwelly Castle, overlooking River Gwendraeth, was built by the Normans to defend the town against the Welsh. It was taken by the Welsh several times in the 12th century. In 1403 Owen Glendower, assisted by troops from France and Brittany, laid siege to the castle. However, it was relieved after three weeks.

After leaving the town, I joined the A484 on a cycle way. This came to an abrupt end at a turn off onto a minor road which I had to take. Just before returning to the A484, I took a cycle path to Pembrey along the route of a dismantled railway. One final stretch of the A484 through a built up area saw me to the Pembrey Country Inn.

Distance today 14.45 miles: total 3096.37.

Pembrey Country Inn was comfortable and I was served a good dinner and breakfast. I spoke to the Manageress, Vicky. She was 58 and her husband, 47, was a brickie who'd lost his job in the financial crisis. Trade was down this year and Vicky only had four bookings for Sunday lunch that day. She told me that other local businesses were down as well. Vicky said she had worked hard all her life once going five years without a holiday. They'd run a Post Office, a holiday home and a pub. They'd done well enough to buy a property in Spain's Valencia province. Vicky was looking forward to “her time” soon. She expected to have ten good years before bad health started to spoil things. Two locals had died recently in their forties so she didn't want to wait much longer. She'd learn Spanish. Vicky had a daughter who had her own hair dressing business. Many of the local people didn't have jobs.

I set out in fair weather again. It became colder later in the day but I didn't need gloves. I followed the B4311 to the start of a country park reclaimed from an industrial area which had included a power station. It was wooded and had become a nature reserve. At one point I looked out over the sea from Burry Port. There was an asphalt track through the park much used by runners, walkers and cyclists. Inland there was housing, the A484 and hills beyond. Towards the end of this area there was a water park in the village of Pwll. It all made for excellent walking.

In the late 18th century Llanelli was a small fishing village. The industrialisation of the town and Burry Port along the coast to the west is linked to the arrival of an Englishman, Alexander Raby, in 1796. Due largely to his influence Llanelli became one of the major industrial towns of South Wales. It had the coal needed for the ironworks. Raby pushed for increased output during the heightened demand driven by the French wars. The population grew from 500 in 1795 to 3,000 in 1801. Raby built cottages without privies for his workers. A public house nearby (the Raby Arms) did have a privy.

Despite his apparent success Raby became insolvent and, ultimately, the Raby family empire collapsed. However, in 1886 Llanelli had seven large tinplate works, a large copper works, four large foundries, a lead and silver works, a ship building yard, three steam powered saw mills and six collieries exporting 87,500 tons of coal in that year. Raby's business may have failed but he must have much of the credit for the town's transformation.

I reached the B4304 and entered an area of dense housing. My target was the bridge over the River Loughor but I made a serious mistake. I starting walking on the WCP away from the bridge. There were no directional signs and I was walking south so my mistake was not immediately obvious. The sea was out of sight. Alarm bells did not become deafening until I'd walked rapidly for half an hour. I had to turn back or run the risk of road walking in the dark. Eventually I found the correct branch of the WCP with a sign to Loughor on the far side of the bridge. I asked a couple walking their dogs to confirm that I was heading towards the bridge. They said I was but that my actual destination was only half a mile away across the water. “I'll swim then” was my response.

After the bridge I found the minor road under the A484 to Gowerton. I'd lost so much time that the light was beginning to fade. It was 3.30 as I turned onto the B4295 towards Pen-Clawdd. I depended upon there being a pavement and, thankfully, there was. That was enough for safety as dusk advanced with sunset at about 4.30. At about that time I was in Pen-Clawdd and I found Estuary - a bar with rooms quite easily.

The dour bearded manager took me to my room. He was justly proud of the establishment. It had been opened by a local couple in July this year. The couple already had a cafe and a restaurant in the town. My room had a nespresso machine of which I made much use. The capsules were a light year better than the nescafe sachets. Unfortunately the machines are prone to flooding in quite inexplicable ways. The Manager flung open the doors of a balcony and led me out into an area with its own furniture. I admired the facility, unlikely though it was that I'd be using it.

Distance today 12.19 (excluding the section of the WCP walked by mistake): total 3,108.56.

I'd planned to start again much earlier in the year but Covid changed everything. I was now keen to clock up some miles before winter and my wife, Polly, was desperate enough to accompany me. She suffers from an arthritic knee so can't walk far. However, she identified Aberglasney and the Welsh Botanical Gardens as well worth a visit.

Last night we stayed with friends near Stroud to break the journey. This was the first time we'd stayed away from home since pre-Covid. We arrived at the Estuary Bar with Rooms early afternoon. I was already changed and quickly set off from Pen Clawdd. We planned to stay at the same hotel for four nights with Polly driving to drop me off and pick me up each day.

A large expanse of salt marsh stretched out north of Pen Clawdd towards the River Loughor. It was intersected by muddy channels which filled with water from an incoming tide. Sometimes the location of these channels was marked by the upper section of boats showing above the banks where they were moored. At Dalton's Point the waters of the estuary lapped against the wall protecting the main road through the town.

At Crofty I left the B4295 on a minor road. A notice warned that it was sometimes flooded at high tide. There was little traffic. I passed walkers often with dogs. Three horse riders went by. A sign announced that Jones was in business as a vehicle engineer and sheep farmer. The only notable cluster of houses with its chapel was at Wernffrwd. I reached Llanrhydian which gave its name to a vast salt marsh to the north.

I then had a short section on a busy road to Oldwalls before taking a lesser road which passed Weobley Castle, a 14th century fortified manor house given to the State by its last private owner in 1911. This was open to the public and outside I was impressed to see a bus stop with a timetable. After Landimore I reached Cheriton. The church was closed even for private prayer although the church at Langennith was open 11-12 on Sunday for that purpose. In case of urgent need a priest was available. After Cheriton Church I left the road on a steep path which enabled me to avoid a long loop in the road. Shortly afterwards I came across water tankers connected to hoses. It wasn't clear whether they were taking on water or discharging it.

I rejoined the narrow main road to Langennith and soon encountered a row of three water tankers. A man standing nearby explained that they were discharging water to top up the mains. Perhaps a leak had caused a shortage. There's been no lack of rain recently.

In Langennith the King's Head roadside garden was full of customers. Polly drove past me in the village and went on to Hillend, the end of the road at a caravan park. When I caught up with her, she drove me back to the hotel. I'd been on the road for 3 and a half hours.

Distance 10.86; total 3119.42

Polly dropped me back at Hillend. I entered a caravan park. A weathered notice at the entrance declared that the toilets were closed. My map showed the WCP going through the site but the route wasn't clear even though no go areas were clearly indicated. A man asked if I needed help. When I said WCP he pointed to hills inland. I replied that it was a coastal path and walked towards the sea. A woman carrying a surf board came into view. She'd not been surfing, just splashing around. There was a Surfing School vehicle nearby but she said it wasn't operating. The path was soft sand and I made only slow progress. A man walking his dogs suggested I walked on the beach where the sand was hard. That was so and I made good speed towards Rossili where the houses stood out on the crest of a hill. People were out on the beach, some with multiple dogs. One of these animals took against me and ran at me barking. The animal was rebuked by its owner but I had no acknowledgement or apology as I turned and stood still to stare down the threat. A friendly man assured me that there was a clear path up to Rossili and so it proved.

Rossili had pubs and cafes that were being patronised. Many Brits are taking their holidays in the U.K. due to the risk of being quarantined at short notice for 14 days on return from a foreign trip. I stopped for a hot chocolate taking an outside table. The rain started and continued steadily for some hours. I walked out of Rossili into Middleton and turned off at Pitton onto a track headed for the WCP. Arrows directed me through fields where heifers made way for me. I reached the WCP but it was on the far side of a shoulder high barbed wire fence. Although I needed no extra deterrent, the fence was electrified. I walked beside it hoping for a stile or gate. The fence turned inland taking me with it away from the WCP. The fence was then replaced by a single electrified wire backed up by a dilapidated dry stone wall with a rusty wire fence with rickety wooden posts running along the top. I climbed onto the wall avoiding the electrified wire only to be confronted by deep brambles on the far side. I was wearing shorts so wanted to minimize the damage. I moved gingerly along the wall hoping to find a gap in the brambles. There was none but I saw an opportunity to get over them using the brambles themselves as a springboard. I did manage that at the cost of a few scratches.

I was now on the WCP and a few hardy souls were out wearing full waterproofs. I had a good jacket and, by wearing shorts, I was able to maintain a decent speed. I made good time to Overton and then took an unwanted detour to Overton Cliff. A narrow nettled path took me back to the village. The next place was Port Eynon. As I entered I saw a white sculpted figure standing atop a memorial stone adjoining the road at the edge of a churchyard. The Port Eynon lifeboat had gone out in 1916 to assist a ship in trouble. The lifeboat capsized twice and the coxswain, the second coxswain and a lifeboatmen had been drowned.

Near the front there was a field of caravans and a row of poor cafes offering fish and chips, burgers and sausages and chips in a paper cone. I wasn't tempted. I moved onto Horton where I ate the banana and pastry I'd saved from breakfast in a bus shelter. The rain had now eased and I climbed out of Horton onto an unfrequented road. The clip clop of a horse preceded its appearance with a woman rider. I missed the path to Oxwich and found that I'd taken the road to Penrice. It would have taken too much time to retrace so I proceeded into a deep dell, crossed a small river and entered the grounds of Penrice House and Castle. There was a notice saying “Private” but it was marked as a public right of way. I passed between a grand house and a ruined castle.

The castle was built in the 13th century on land granted to the de Penrice family for their part in the Norman conquest of Wales. The mansion was built in the 1770s for Thomas Mansel Talbot to house his collection of antiquities and art works. This was assembled during his time in Italy between 1769 and 1773. He bought a statue of Minerva wearing a bronze helmet and a funerary monument (now in the Courtauld Institute in London). He also bought modern furniture and sculpture. He commissioned busts of himself and Pope Clement XIV from Christopher Hewetson. The one of the Pope is now in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Finally he bought paintings by Rembrandt and Hackert and drawings by Poussin. Much of the collection was later moved to Margam Castle and sold at auction in 1941.

The mansion is now occupied by the Methuen-Campbell family who are direct descendants of the de Penrices.

Just beyond the mansion, a building resembling a coach house resounded to the sound of modest industrial activity. I took a signed footpath to the A4118. I now had a disagreeable interlude dodging fast traffic on a road which had no more than 100 yards of pavement in several miles. I'd arranged with Polly that she'd pick me up at the Gower Heritage Centre just short of Parkmill. I met her there at 4 pm.

Distance today 12.42; total 3131.84.

Polly dropped me off at the Gower Heritage Centre. She'd taken against that establishment as they'd charged her for parking yesterday when she went in for a cup of tea. She then discovered that they would close at 4 pm so she'd have insufficient time to drink the tea.

I set out at 10 am and was able to leave the A4118 almost immediately on a well made path with good signage to Southgate. I made satisfactory progress until I reached a golf course where the path disappeared. I checked the compass which showed I was headed North East instead of South as I expected. I must have inadvertently changed direction after the path disappeared. I asked a couple walking their dog for help. They'd thought that I'd looked lost. They directed me to a white stone next to a directional sign. A series of white stones led me to the Club House on the edge of Southgate. Taking a route across the golf course, it was hard to relax. I prepared to shield my head if anyone shouted “Fore” but no one did.

The ruined Pennard Castle is placed on the edge of the golf course. It was built above the Pennard Pill, a stream discharging into Three Cliffs Bay. That position protected the castle with cliffs on the north and western sides. In the late 1060s the Normans were pushing into Wales. They built castles and created regional lordships. Pennard Castle was built in the early 12th century, once Henry de Beaumont, the Earl of Warwick, had conquered the Gower Peninsula. The original wooden palisade was replaced by stone around 1300.

I took the road through Pennard and reached Bishopston where I turned off towards Caswell Bay. This was a sandy beach with cliffs on either side. I took the asphalt path over Newton Cliff to Langland Bay. The path was placed belong the cliff top and provided spectacular views of craggy coves. Many people were taking this one and a quarter mile walk. There were even a few cyclists but they had to carry their bikes, cyclo-cross style, over the steeper sections. Langland had an astonishing number of beach huts in serried ranks overlooking the bay. I sat on a bench on the promenade to eat the pastry and fruit that I'd saved from my hotel breakfast. Nearby, noisy work was being undertaken to restore one of the beach huts.

I continued on the WCP around Rams Tor until I reached the road to Mumbles Head and Bracelet Bay. An enormous parking area for cars and coaches looked out towards the lighthouse on the headland. I passed a lifeboat station at the beginning of a long walk around Swansea Bay. I could see where Swansea was right from the start of this section but it took me an age to reach it and the City Bus Station. One of the seats on the way was given in memory of a woman who died in August 2019. The seat had attached to it a flower holder. Fresh Chrysanthemums had been placed in this holder which also held water. This woman was so well loved by her friends that they'd kept fresh flowers on the seat for over a year.

I was well over half way when I passed the University. Once I'd reached Swansea I caught the bus to Gowerton Station which was only a few miles from the hotel. All the passengers wore masks but two passengers tried to board without masks. The driver wouldn't allow it and a youngish man pleaded without success for leniency. As a last desperate measure he turned to the passengers and asked whether any of us had a spare mask. No one responded. He only needed to walk two stops and he looked fit so it was hardly a tragedy.

The driver told me where to get off the bus and I then had a few minutes walk to reach the station. I'd already been in touch with Polly and she duly picked me there after a short while.

Distance today 13.52; total 3145.36.