Walking the Camino

A few months ago I walked the Camino, I’d wanted to walk the camino for quite some time ever since I read about it when planning a trip to South America, I had to my Santiago's geographically mixed up and was disappointed when I found out it was actually in Europe. So it would have to wait. Then back in New Zealand I watched The Way which renewed my interest and then I met Les the Mexico Kid who was the first person I’d ever met who’d walked a camino (Camino Norte). And so it was after finding myself back in Europe after many years down under it seemed the right time to walk the camino.


 I booked a flight to Biarritz and had two weeks to get everything I needed together - waterproof walking shoes, a comfortable lightweight backpack, a new waterproof, a guide, lightweight trousers, currency etc. I must have tried on 20 pairs of shoes in every outdoor and sports shop I could find, I bought and returned 3 backpacks before finally finding a suitable one. I was running out of time and thought I’d have to cancel the trip when I found everything I needed days before  departure - critically my 32L Osprey backpack which was perfect and Salomon walking shoes and liner socks. I hadn’t time to order a guide book from Amazon and it was also rather expensive so I made my own guide with the essential information I needed, which was basic maps with indications of where all the places to stay were with costs and distances between towns, this all fitted on 3 pieces of paper and into the side pocket of my hiking trousers. It turned out I had created the most useful guide on the camino!


 The camino spirit started before I’d even left Gatwick. I met two other pilgrims at the departure lounge, who ended up in the same Albergue as me on the first night. Claus asked how I was getting from Biarritz airport to St Jean Pied de Port, I had a transfer booked and said I could add him to my booking, which I did, this meant we arrived a few hours earlier than the train option and therefore had time to look around St Jean a little and have something to eat before heading up the hill to the Albergue. Claus had not booked anywhere for the first night and many Albergues in town were showing Completo, so at the Pilgrim office where we received our first Sello (stamp) in our credentials (pilgrim passport), they booked him into my Albergue which was 1km up the hill on the Napoleon Route, right on the camino. Accommodation sorted we enjoyed our first pilgrim meal which we were delighted with and then headed up the hill with such wonderful excitement to actually be on the camino, we were on the camino!!! And in after 500 miles of walking we would arrive in Santiago de Compostela.


 The camino has many names, and there are many caminos, they all lead to Santiago de Compostela where it is believed the remains of the Apostle St James are interned, but for most the walking of the camino is not religious but spiritual, a need for time out, living simply and calming satisfaction going on a really long walk brings. The main route to which all other caminos join and the most popular route is the Camino Frances, aka The Way of St James which runs through northern Spain from St Jean Pied de Port in France, over the Pyrenees and westward to Santiago de Compostela in Galicia. The route is approx 500 miles, or around 750 kilometers, I say approx because I found signage varied somewhat, but by any reckoning it's a fairly long way and takes about 4-5 weeks to walk consecutively.


 Upon arrival at La Napoleon we were offered a free welcome glass of wine, along with Cormac from Ireland who said he wanted to leave at midnight and planned to walk through the night to Roncesvalles, the first major stopping point and into Spain. The sun was setting over the foothills, the wine was delicious and the company was wonderful. And so to bed, tomorrow we’d all have to be up early for the first of many early rises, I soon got used to everyone getting up at 6am so the first days departure of 8am seemed leisurely by contrast. At breakfast I meet Robert from Canada, Cormac was still there and hadn’t left at midnight and Claus was spending an extra day in the Pyrenees. Cormac left at about 7.30 after breakfast and I left at 8am with Robert, who I would end up walking with all the way to Burgos.


 To say we were excited was an understatement, so fresh and energized, so ready for the 27km day over a mountain range, so much to talk about! We passed everyone on the way (and on this first day there are hundreds, a non stop stream) whilst telling each other we really should slow down as this is how people hurt themselves and get blisters, but we were too darn excited about the whole thing. At Orisson, after considerable amount of uphill and the first stopping point, we met Cormac again. Cormac lamented about the weight of his pack and how he had too much stuff and was looking to jettison some of it. Further on we saw him again whist having lunch, he had now chucked away his hiking books and sleeping pad and was looking very unwell. It turned out he was completely unprepared for the camino and was not enjoying the experience at all, by this point we were fairly near the top of the Pyrenees where it would be downhill to Roncesvalles. Cormac was complaining of chest pains so Robert offered to carry Cormac’s pack, and we continued together with Robert carrying two backpacks and Cormac using Robert's sun hat and walking sticks. In this fashion we all made it to Roncesvalles where at 2.30pm there was about a half hour wait at the Municipal Albergue for beds. Cormac was white a sheet but managed to remain on his feet, we finally reached the check in desk and got ourselves into the same 4 dorm cubical, the dorms are arranged in clustered of 4 beds but within one big dorm per floor. Next to our cubicle was our Dutch-kiwi friend we had made on the way up, and became part of the Cormac watch team.


 Once in our dorm, Cormac got straight into his sleeping bag to have a nap and myself and Robert went off to our respective showers. Returning to the dorm Cormac announced he would be flying home the next day! He was really not well and had phoned his brother who had booked him on a flight from Biarritz to Dublin at 1pm. This would mean he had to get back over the Pyrenees again to France tomorrow morning, Cormac also asked reception to see a doctor and they had organised for him to be checked over. The Cormac watch team were most relieved that he was seeing a doctor but it now became our responsibility to organise transport for him to the airport, with the only option being a taxi departing at 4.30am the next morning as there were no suitable bus times so only taxis, but all the taxis take children to school from Roncesvalles to St Jean so it would have to be before then so they could get all the way to the airport and back again in time for the school runs. This arranged and after a very nice communal dinner, we went to bed with alarms set for 4am to help Cormac to the taxi. The taxi was right on time and myself of Robert waved off a very thankful and very weary Cormac. Bless him. And so started my camino! To find the spirit of the camino of the very first day, they way everyone looks out for each other, it was the best of human nature. Whereas in normal everyday life events like this are rare, because of the common purpose on the camino they were common and why the camino is such a special experience to which people return again and again to be part of.

Myself and Robert near the top of the Pyrenees, day 1

Bath

Let start with a nice camper van:

The classic kombi camper just like the one we used to have...isn't it wonderful!

And that was Bath.

Okay I'll tell you about Bath, firstly what a brilliant Airbnb - breakfasts included stewed plums and goji berries with yogurt, and that was just for starters, next was the best porridge I have ever had. In fact I can only remember one other time I had such great porridge, and it in somewhere like a hostel and it cost $8 or perhaps it was £8, I don't know, but it was excellent. My hosts also offered scrambled eggs, an array of juices, tea and proper coffee, and then there was Kez - the dog, who would roll over and invite you to give him a tummy rub. Kez is an unusual name for a dog, I used to have a motorbike I called Kez, named after our Kez of Bo Selecta, a completely silly comedy show.

    Bath was very very busy, it was a weekend, school holidays and one of the most visited places in England. Whats interesting about Bath is every street and every building is in keeping in stone and architecture, it must be one of the most consistent towns in Britain, and thereby lies its beauty, everything is just so tasteful. I walked into to town, and through Victoria Park which backs onto the famed Royal Crescent which leads to the Royal Circle, every street looked so clean and tidy and uncluttered. I visited the Fashion Museum which chronicled the changes in attire from 1700's through to 20th century, it was fascinating, except for the noisy student group who sulked and shouted their way through the exhibits seemingly oblivious to the quiet and the fact they were the only ones making a racquet and all other visitors were trying to listen to their audio guides. Back outside I found the canal and the longboat locks, from there I headed up the hill for a splendid view of the town before going back to town to go into the Roman Baths which were extremely busy so I couldn't really enjoy it that much, although I did find a plaque titled 36: Bryson, so I listened to Bill Bryson on the audio guide as he spoke of the wonders of looking out over bath from this vantage point of the baths, I'm sure it is wonderful minus the thousand other tourists bumbling around like human clutter, you might guess by now I don't like crowds, or people, its not that I don't like people, just not large groups of people over say 1 or 2, or loud people who mistake their existence for the sun or some other vital planetary body. I can probably cope with up to 6 people in one setting - but that's only if I know them, or most of them. So I vowed to come back, mid winter perhaps and hopefully there will be a few less people, hopefully none so I can enjoy it and really take it in.
   I walked back from town sharply just stopping to get an avocado and some salmon back to the peace and harmony of my airbnb.
   The next day was the last day of this trip, I thought it may be less busy in town but it was Sunday and perhaps only a fraction less busy, still having seen everything I wanted to see the day before it was actually much more relaxing just to have a wander around, I did however go back to my favourite spot - The Victoria Gallery, its just two gallery rooms, but beautiful rooms, its quiet and with a nice big green seat with information folders lying around about particular artists and artworks, for example I learned some artworks were painted on copper to lend a luminosity to the work. In the hall up the stairs is a sort of DIY cafe, with some comfy chairs and a coffee machine in which you can make yourself a tea or coffee from a selection for £1.50. It's a lovely space. Its the most tranquil and restful place in the center of Bath in peak season.

Nice and quiet self serve beverage area at the Victoria Gallery

The lovely Victoria Gallery

   I headed out of town on my way back to Sussex and contemplated what place to visit on the way, Stonehenge was en-route and even though it was English Heritage I could park for free with my National Trust sticker saving £5.
(Note, I recently tried to change my keyboard settings to a person now based in the UK and wanting £ symbols instead of $. After some fiddling about I now only have limited command of single and double quotation marks, and I still didn't have £ symbols so now I have to do: alt +(num lock on) 156 which produces a £ sign! Still that may help someone else wanting to write a £ on a keyboard set up for dollars!)
   Once out of town I stopped to pick up some German hitchhikers who also wanted to go to Stone Henge, when we got there we found it was £16.50 per person to see the stones!!! They queued up but I thought I'd just walk up and see how close I could get which turns out to be pretty darn close, I let them keep their big rucksacks in the car and collect them afterwards so they could enjoy the stones unburdened, so we agreed to meet back at the car in an hour. The stones are maybe a mile from the car park and if you pay you can get a shuttle up there, but there is a nice walk over National Trust land across fields to the stones, I could see hordes of people pouring out and into buses and starting their shuffle around the stones with hundreds of other people. There was a nice old man selling mixed punnets of stone fruits, strawberries and berries, so I bought a punnet for £6 which was fortuitous as I was both thirsty and hungry and this would solve both. I asked him if I could get any closer without a ticket and he directed me to a gate just nearby. Through the gate was a field directly opposite where I had a clear view of the stones and perhaps only 10 meters further away from the official walk. Seeing as you can no longer go near the the stones anyway I was very happy with this experience, plus I had a nice pile of delicious fruit to enjoy away from the crowds. A few other canny people had sussed this out too and I overheard one couple quietly rejoicing in their joint saving of £33! On my way back through the fields I saw another strange ancient man made land formation that looked a bit like a simple BMX park with gentle ramps up and down, from google maps it appeared to be a series of circles. I have no idea what it was, perhaps indeed an ancient wheeled fun folly park.

Look at that lovely selection of fruit!!! and some epic stones in the background with horrors of horrors - crowds!

From where I was standing across the fence to the crowds on the right was a difference of £16.50!

Google map at time of writing has an old location of the car park shown right next to the stones on the right, its actually where the yellow highlight is on the left, the red line is the walking path, the red x is where I bought my fruit and the blue arrow where I stood, pretty much next to the stones for free. The circled area is the ancient BMX track folly.

   Back at the car the hitchhikers were waiting and had managed to on sell their tickets for £10 each after they had been to the stones as the tickets were unmarked, they had caught the shuttle there and then walked back.
   I carried on sans hitch hikers without much other excitement or deviation back to Sussex. I arrived back a few weeks ago but have been slow at updating the blog, this was due to having a back log of posts that I had at the time made notes about on my phone in the notes app. Or sometimes scribbled on a bit of cardboard lying about in the car.
Hope you enjoyed this English adventure, more to come!


Mauri Ora!

Adventures on the A49

The best day weather wise in the Long Mynd was the day I was leaving, it made for a pleasant drive south to Bath on nice roads. At around lunch time I was getting hungry and needed to stop somewhere to use the facilities, so as ever I used my preferred method of finding refreshments and nice toilets by consulting my trusty National Trust hand book to see what places were en-route and by which means I found Berrington Hall just off the A49 near Leominster. I have found this method my preference over going into a town and finding a park and then public toilets and or a cafe as it involves traffic, time and getting lost and sometimes having to shuffle along at the pace of shoppers, waiting for lights and it turns into a boring chore. It is far nicer to park easily at a nice country manor, the cafes are always a good standard and the coffee reliable, there is usually a cream tea available and of course it's all set in some beautifully landscaped garden.
    This garden was Capability Brown's final landscape, with long vistas down to a 14 acre lake and rows of round trees that lined the paths. The interior was surprisingly homely and there was an exhibition of some excellent embroidery work, with little 3D embroidered garden worlds in tea cups and other creative works, I never knew the craft could be so exciting. I would recommend it for anyone who thinks embroidery is boring and just a way of putting labels on things or making things lacy. My favourite space which was just a strange off cut of space with nice wallpaper in an otherwise unusable space had been lined with shelves and made into a sort of curved narrow library alcove. I had gone round the house in the wrong direction because I couldn't find the entrance and had gone in through the servants' quarters, the entrance was on the other side of the courtyard, in the main hall a lady was talking to one of the visitor volunteers in that area about her hyperhidrosis and therefore she wouldn't be going upstairs because she would get too hot because of her hyperhidrosis, I moved through the hall into the ground floor rooms and when I came back out into the hall again she was still there talking in earnest about her hyperhidrosis, eventually her husband managed to persuade her out of the door and back outside where she continued to talk to him about her hyperhidrosis as they shuffled along. I suspect this is a regular event on their outings, still, it gives them something to talk about.
   The house itself was built for a London banker for his retirement estate in the late 1700's, he obviously did pretty well for himself as a banker as by his mid 40's he had commissioned Lancelot 'Capability' Brown - the most fashionable landscape designer of the era and Browns son-in-law Henry Holland to create this French influenced Neo-classical mansion and gardens, there is certainly an air of Versailles about it. Neo-classical is one of those expressions I don't really know much about, so I looked it up, it is a revival of classical architecture but simpler and less fussy, taking the essence of the style but without the busyness and fuss. Thinking about it, architecture was simple in the beginning, then it got bigger and grander with more materials and more and more fussy with lots of shiny bits until you got to the Rococo style that originated in Paris - that was all about how decorative and fancy could you make any and every space, until like a snowflake, it can't divide anymore and had reached peak decoration, which was also reflected in the attire of the same time. Just type in Rococo into Google and you'll see what I mean, after that there seems to have been a simplifying down of the style which then passed through some nice periods of still classical but less over the top styles before sliding into ages of austerity, necessity and then into the abyss of modern magazine minimalism where by a concrete box with massive window with some square furniture with perhaps a brightly coloured cushion with matching colour crockery and picture on the wall has become the height of modern hip architecture.
   I headed out of the car park and herded a large group of sheep away that were covered the drive and back on the the A49. My direct route went via a lovely river side road through the Wye Valley which passes Titern Abbey, a huge shell of an abbey with the walls intact but no roof or glass and neat short grass on the ground instead of tiles. Without anything inside it appeared magical, and I thought made for a far more interesting space than somewhere cluttered with pews and alters. It was just one material - stone.
   Moving on over the Severn bridge after a bit of going in circles in Bath I arrived at my next Airbnb, my last stop for this trip.

Titern Abbey

Leaving Berrington Hall

Berrington Hall, imagine this place being your house!

The alcove library

Embroidered wonders in a teacup

Lovely gardens

Happy sunflower with bee!

The Long Mynd

On leaving The Mumbles the front right tire had gone down again, I had only pumped it up two days before at  Laugharne in the church carpark, I had a fairly long drive ahead to Shropshire and didn't want to have to keep pumping the tire up so I found a tire garage and got a new one fitted. I also finally found the waterfall I was trying to find previously - Henryhd Falls, down a steep path but well worth it, it was like a mini Niagara what with all the rain. The force of the falls was so strong that it created it's own clouds that rose up like steam and drenching everything.

Henrhyd Falls

The Long Mynd is an upland heath and moorland plateau in the Shropshire hills in the shape of a triangle narrowing into a point at the southern end, on the western side the hills descend steeply onto the patchwork of fields and on the east a series of valleys with streams running down them. There is a shuttle bus service over the hills for walkers but this only runs at the weekends so I made my walks into loops starting and finishing at the Brow Farm campsite in Ratlinghope on the West side of the Mynd.

The campsite ducks

The Spitfire Solo with addition front step upgrade. So I could stand on it and take my shoes of.

    The forecast wasn't the best and it rained off and on for most of the first day, I walked up the hill from the campsite to the top of the Mynd and then descended into the Carding Mill Valley into the village of Church Stretton. I needed to get some cash out of the ATM for the campsite, opposite was a cafe that looked inviting enough, I ordered a coffee and a sort of apple turnover pastry. The pasty was inedible and the coffee was burnt, as I went up to pay I said I was only paying for the coffee because the pastry was gross! Another Gordon Ramsey Hotel Hell moment, I could just picture Ramsey sitting there making his usual comments, but sadly all of them would have been true. The day before I had gone into the Tourist Information office to buy a map, when I went up to pay and offered my card the man at the counter just said 'Oh no, we don't...' looking at my card like it was a small fart, so I had to pay in cash which is how I ran out of cash, I had forgot at the time I had got out enough only for the camping and that was it, so essentially I walked 11 miles to use an ATM.
    But really it was a nice walk, through the rain, other people walking were cheery enough and after ascending back up Ashes Hollow valley to the top of the highest point on the Mynd, there were some breaks in the weather and some lovely evening light over the valley. I felt like I could carry on walking for hours but it started to rain again so I hurried back down the hill to the campsite and into the safety of the Spitfire Solo.

Welcome and very nice shelter to have lunch and dry out.

Ethereal tree in Carding Mill Valley

View from the top of the Mynd's trig point.

    A walking route passing directly near the campsite, so the next day I walked in a large loop to the top of the start of the Mynd at its northern  point and then down its length past the summit again and to a Gliding club, I thought about walking the whole plateau but I'd still have to walk back, so descended about two thirds the way down and walked to a tiny village of Wentnor, where on the map it shows a pub symbol, it was 3pm and I'd been walking since 10:30am so was keen for a cool drink but the pub was closed despite a sign saying 'Open Seven Days'. At this point I met some walkers I had passed at the top of the Mynd who were walking a similar route but in reserve, I took their advice and headed up over what I call a Mini Mynd that lead directly to Bridges, the nice pub just before Ratlinghope. The Mini Mynd offered great views of the whole length of the Long Mynd, just as I reached the pub I was approached by some people asking to look at my map for directions back to Church Stretton - where they had just come from but didn't want to drive back that way because of the precipice. Surely it wasn't that scary? I thought the roads looked pretty good for driving as it was open you could see if anything was coming from a distance. It was certainly the most direct route on my map but there was a larger road that could take them on a roundabout route there instead.
    The day I was leaving I had earned the right to drive the short cut over the Mynd to get back to the A40 but before I did that I went to Stiperstones as recommended by the neighbouring campers. Stiperstones is  a quartzite ridge with a lot of scattered stones with some larger rocky tors on a hill that offers even more splendid views of the Long Mynd and surrounding area. It was well worth the visit, it was during the ice age that the rocks here were shattered into their current forms through constant thawing  and refreezing. I drove back to Ratlinghope and up to the Mynd the quick way this time - by car and into Church Stretton and onto Bath.

Llareggub

Laugharne which is pronounced "Larn" was the final home of Dylan Thomas, a Welsh poet and writer. He had a fairly short interesting life and spent most of it drinking too much. He grew up in Swansea then spent some time in London and managed to avoid conscription by having a dodgy lung. His fortunes went up and down and at one point he visited the home of historian A.J.P. Taylor and stayed for a month even thought Taylor disliked him intensely and Thomas spent most of his time drinking, despite this he turned up again homeless a few years later and Taylors wife Margaret let Thomas and his wife stay in the garden summer house, later Margaret bought them their home in Laugharne for £2,500 in 1949, perhaps that was the only way to get rid of them.
    He was invited by John Brinnin, an American poet and literary critic, to New York to tour art centers and campuses and give talks, during most of which time he seemed to be drunk and this in itself became part of the appeal for the audience. On return he wrote the first thing I ever knew about Dylan Thomas which was 'Under Milk Wood'. It was to be a 'play of voices' about characters that inhabit a small village - Laugharne, set within a 24 hour  period. I only know of Under Milk Wood because during an arts foundation course we had to illustrate a some writing. I think, I hope I still have my illustrations of Under Milk Wood, which at the time I thought was Undermilkwood, all one word.
    So of I went to Laugharne to visit the home of a poet of who only one piece of work I had heard off. I parked at the church car park at the top of town and walked in through the neat and tidy houses to the waterfront and then down the lane to Dlyan's Boat House, first is the writing shed perched on the edge with a fantastic view over the harbour and then a little bit further down the lane is the house itself. The bottom half of the house was now a tea room. After the house I carried on down the lane with turned into the Welsh Coast Path, after a while I turned up a lane which came back to the church again, Dylan Thomas is buried here and in a sunny field are the newer graves and the poets stands out as a simple white wooden cross. I then went back into the village again to look around the castle which has an exciting turret that you can climb all the way up via a narrow staircase. It was a lovely day so hard to see where the rather gloomy inspiration came from for his fictional town of Llareggub which is 'bugger all' spelt backwards.

The next day  I went to Rhossili beach on the Gower peninsula for a walk, it's a very dramatic coast line with a headland called Worm Head only accessible for 2 hours at low tide over a causeway. I walked up to the headland in the pouring rain, it was too wet to do any other walks so I walked back again. Later I watched on You Tube a 1972 a Richard Burton film of Under Milk Wood filmed in Fishguard.

Wales

The Mumbles
I arrived at my house sit at the Mumbles in Swansea and there were two tabby sibling cats and an old golden retriever called Woody to look after, all very agreeable animals although the owner was rather worried about Woody when I arrived as he had gone off his food, he was fine 24 hours later but did look a little sorry  for himself initially. First I went to explore the Mumbles which is a nice village on the peninsula of Swansea bay with some fishing jetties at one end and a pleasant walk around the headland to a sandy bay with a row of beach huts, I made this into a circular walk back to the high street again where I saw a nice shop selling replica 50's dresses and shoes, I went to buy something but the payment portal machine was just read 'communication error', which indicated it perhaps wasn't plugged into to whatever it needed to communicate. The lady in the shop was getting in a slight flap about it.
    "Oh I don't know what to do, I was on the phone about the internet yesterday and perhaps I unplugged something because I remember them asking me to unplug some things, I'll have to phone my son and it's Saturday tomorrow!" She said.
    "Does your son know much about these machines? '' I inquired.
    "Not really but I'll have to phone him and he won't be back from work till 5".
    I suggested the machine is probably unplugged from telephone line and traced the telephone cable from the machine to nowhere, it was unplugged. She tried to plug it back in under the till cabinet but couldn't reach so asked me to help so I plugged it in and we tried the machine again. This time is did dial which was progress but after second dialing it gave up, which was most certainly fixable by the number one way to fix things you don't quite understand - turn it off and on again. I suggested this would probably fix it as it most likely needed to reset, see it now had all its cables in which case it would probably work. At this point she thought I was an expert on these machines. We turned it off and on again and hey presto it worked.  My work here done I went off to buy some fish, thankfully I still had about 5 avocados.

    That evening I learned in a program by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall that seeming recyclable takeaway cups are not recycled because even though they contain elements that can be recycled, by the way they are put together with the plastic lining they actually cannot be recycled currently, so really are not recyclable at all. We've all just have a big old load of wool pulled over our eyes by Costa lot and Starbucks and the like.  Shame.

Woody

Walk around the headland from the Mumbles

Brecon Beacons

The next day after animals duties I headed to Aberdulais Tin works and waterfall on my way to the Brecon Beacons. There's a waterfall at Aberdulais which was used to turn a big waterwheel which powered the machinery of the tin plating works which were built on flat land next to the waterfall. Essentially they were making tin sheeting for use in food packaging. They started with iron bars which were squashed flat and then chopped into foot square pieces, then heated and squashed and folded and flattened a number of times more to achieve a thin sheet. These sheets were thin dipped in molten tin, heated again and cooled and polished . The finished sheets were then ready to made into biscuit tins and so on.
    It wasn't much further to the Brecon Beacons, the road passed over a nice sheep covered moor, it was obvious when I'd reached the tourist spot to go up one of the popular hills, it was clearly too popular so I carried on to a car park with half a dozen cars in and walked up an opposing hill instead which looked much more interesting which looked back to Pen Y Fan where everyone else was snailing up. From the top of my hill with only a few other people on it I could see people at the top of Pen Y Fan, I'm sure it's lovely walk, but there was people in it. The other benefit was I could enjoy a nice alfresco pee without anyone seeing me whilst at the same time being on the top of a hill, you couldn't have done that today in privacy at the top of Pen Y Fan.

Looking towards the popular walk of Pen Y Fan

Map of the walk I did instead that was nice and quiet

Aberdulais Tin Plating works

On the way back are a number of waterfalls not far from Aberdulais, I couldn't find the one I wanted to go to but there were plenty in the area so I had a nice walk to a falls and then to the top of the falls and down a sort of Winnie the Pooh-esk woodland stream, until it got too boggy to go much further and so I returned to Bluey and back to the Mumbles we went. I took Woody out for a walk, he did 3 poops, you probably don't need to know but there it is. You can write that down if you like but I doubt it's of much use.

Winnie-The-Pooh like place

Nearby waterfall

Tintagel and Lydford Gorge

It's 160 miles from St Mawgan to Weston-Super-Mare via Tintagel and Lydford gorge which are approximately en route.  As usual I underestimated the distances and how much I can actually do in a day, by 10am I had arrived at Tintagel 28 miles away and it was mostly empty of visitors at this time. There seemed way too many car parks for a village of that size, I parked in one with an attendant just across from the old post office building for £2. The toilets on the high street cost 20p to go in, but if you go up the road to outside the information center the toilets there are free, although you do get a nicer experience in the 20p toilets.

    After visiting the old post office building I went down to the Tintagel castle built half on the mainland and half on the island headland with steep steps connecting them. King Arthur was born here and Merlin's Cave is under the island, Merlin supposedly engineered the birth of King Arthur. His cave wasn't accessible today because the tide was in. There was an archaeological dig going on when I visited, with people brushing away at a series of low stone walls that could have been for anything but I'm sure they will be able to make up what their precise use was based on finding some old bit of metal or pottery buried in the soil, but I could tell straight away they had uncovered  a compound knitting elevator.  

    After returning from the castle the town was heaving and all the car parks were full with queues of people to get into them, I really wanted a Cornish pasty and went up and down the length of high street to find a cafe which firstly sold pasties and secondly didn't charge an extra £1 to sit inside and eat it. Thats $2 extra dollars to eat in! That would buy a flat white in Happy Cafe in Cuba Street Wellington, only Happy Cafe moved to Newtown a while back which is far less convenient for a lunchtime coffee stop. I really dislike the whole practice of opening a nice cafe, making it look inviting with nice temping food and comfortable looking dining spaces but only displaying takeaway prices and then appearing surprised when you want to sit in and enjoy your food at the cafe. Especially at 25 - 30% increase in price. After asking in 5 cafes I found The Cornish Bakery right back where I started at the castle end of the high street which had friendly staff and only charges 20p extra for sitting in. This I could handle so I sat in with my pasty and a cup of coffee and read one of the papers lying about.

    I also discovered in Tintagel the dogs I just call Total Bears are actually called Newfoundlands. There was one slumped like they do waiting patiently with its owner.

    Next it was 39 miles East to Lydford Gorge, after a lot of coast it was nice to get back to some waterfalls and forest. First I had to get past the kiosk welcome staff who pointed out all the 20 or so points of interest along the walk and how the gorge is laid out and etc and so on but I really just wanted to use the toilet and get on and start walking, in essence you just walk in the circle one way.  Its about a 3mile walk around the gorge, first along a path higher up through the trees up to a waterfall and returning back next to the gorge at water level before it narrows and there's an exciting bit with some exposed stone steps that lead to a dead end where the gorge closes in. Then it was a fairly boring motorway drive up to Weston-Super-Mare, there was nowhere to park need my airbnb which was much more central than I expected so had to park half a mile away and walk down. I had intended to explore the town but had ran out of time for the day.

Lydford Gorge

The next day it looked like the car had a flat tyre, but it was just almost flat. So I got the foot pump out and after just a few pumps the pump un-built itself and exploded apart, so I needed to find a garage with an air pump. At the nearby BP the pressure was 16psi! It seemed to have gone down during the long drive. The car was also rattling alarmingly and had been for a while but I was able to rendezvous with parents on their way back from the Long Mynd just north of Bristol, the rattle turned out to be nothing more than a loose plate under the engine and nothing to worry about and so on to Wales for a house sit in the Mumbles near Swansea.