Walk 351 -- Nefyn to Towyn (Tudweiliog)

Ages:  Colin was 71 years and 334 days.  Rosemary was 69 years and 111 days.

Weather:  Persistent rain for the first few hours.  Clearing up this afternoon and eventually turning sunny.  A cold breeze in exposed places.
Location:  Nefyn to Towyn (Tudweiliog).
Distance:  7 miles.
Total distance:  3627 miles.
Terrain:  Some sandy beaches, but mainly grassy clifftop paths.  Undulating and boggy.
Tide:  Out, coming in.
Rivers: None.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  Nos.698 to 709 (12 in all) on the cliff tops after the golf course.
Pubs:  None — the only pub at Morfa Nefyn was closed due to a private function taking place there.
‘Cadw’ properties:  None.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  No.81 on the cliff top because of a landslide.  (We ignored the notices and walked round it, there was only one dodgy bit!)  We ignored no.82 as well, where some steps were a bit washed away — we walked on the beach instead ‘cos the tide was out.
How we got there and back:  Yesterday we towed our caravan from home to a site near Maentwrog in Snowdonia.  This morning we drove to Tudweiliog where we parked the car.  From there we caught a bus to Nefyn, and alighted at the exact spot where we finished the last Walk.
At the end we turned inland through a caravan site at a beach called Towyn.  From there we walked nearly a mile across very muddy fields to Tudweiliog.  We had our tea and biscuits, then drove back to our caravan.

We were both fed up with the awful weather this morning.  It was teeming down with rain, very grey and the visibility was poor.  But we started the Walk anyway, having come so far and set up our caravan.  It meant I took very few photos at the beginning of the Walk because it was too much bother to keep hoicking the camera out of it’s polythene bag and sheltering it under Colin’s umbrella while I took a picture.  I would like to have taken several photos of Nefyn Beach, but we could hardly see it in the mist.

From the bus stop we walked down the road past the War Memorial, then down a steep road to the beach.  The tide was out, so we were able to walk along the beach almost to the little harbour.  We sat under part of a building to eat our pasties, trying desperately to keep out of the rain.

We then took a very steep path with lots of steps up the cliff.  The path along the top was surprisingly sheltered — despite the dreadful weather it wasn’t actually very cold.  We were amused by a seat which supposedly overlooked a view, but it didn’t because the hedges surrounding it had grown too high.  (It was too wet to photograph.)  Colin noticed some unusual bright orange fungi, but it was too wet to photograph that too.
We came to a small headland and decided to walk out to the end of it as it wasn’t too cold.  The views were very misty, so it wasn’t worth it.  The view along Morfa Nefyn beach was much clearer, but I still didn’t photograph it.  We came to a notice telling us there was a diversion because there had been a landslide.  It explained in great detail how to walk inland in a great big loop to avoid the next bit of cliff.  We decided to ignore it because experience has taught us that you can often get by with care, and we could always come back if that was not so.  We came to a high fence blocking off the path, but people before us had beaten a path round the end of it.  We followed.  The path narrowed and was ill-maintained — we wondered if the diversion was just an excuse for not keeping up the path, but we had to take these ‘impure’ thoughts back as we came to a real landslide!

We could just about step round it with extreme care — it was a vertical drop to the beach if we got it wrong, but neither of us were fazed at all.  It looks worse in the photo than it actually was, though I do admit I wouldn’t have gone round it if I’d approached it from the other direction.

The blackthorn alongside the cliff path was in bloom, and looked lovely despite the rain.  Further on we realised we would have to descend to a road at beach level and then climb up the other side — this cleft was not apparent on the map.  The steps down were steep, and the path up the other side was “closed”.  Another landslide?  They didn’t say.  We could probably have got up there without much trouble, but we decided to walk along the flat of the beach instead.

It was really nice to walk along a sandy beach.  The sky brightened and at one time I even had a shadow (of sorts), but it was still raining!  There was a house on stilts built on a rock pile, and we had to get past it before the tide, which was coming in fast, reached the rocks.  We were amazed to learn, a little later, that the only access to this house by vehicle was along the beach at low tide!

 I photographed a car driving along there before we left the beach.  I certainly would not like to live in such a place, how do they cope in winter storms?

We just about made it past the house before the sea started lapping at the rocks in front of it.  Then Colin stopped to photograph sand martin nests in the cliff.

I rushed on to establish whether or not we could get off the beach behind some stilted sheds that we could see at the end of the little bay.  If not, we would have to get back past the stilted house before we were really cut off by the tide.  But I found an archway leading under one of the houses to a road, so we could relax and take our time.  We agreed that neither of us would like to live in any of the houses there — fine in the summer, but too close to the sea in stormy weather.

We went through the archway looking for a place to sit down and eat our sarnies.  But there was nowhere, and it was still raining!  Even the pub was closed because there was a private function going on in there — a funeral party.  Twice we met young men wearing posh suits rushing through the rain from the car park to the pub, no wet-weather gear anywhere to be seen.
We carried on.  After about half a mile we came to a narrow headland and decided to miss it out because the weather was so poor.

We turned on to a golf course and followed the coast as closely as we could.  It wasn’t very clear where the path actually was, but we kept to the very edge of the greens when we came to them.  We came to a teeing-off point where there was a seat at the end.  It was for golfers really, but since no one was about and it had almost stopped raining we made use of it.  The sun was trying very hard to come out while we were sitting there eating our sarnies.

Colin noticed a wooden hut up beyond where we were sitting, and speculated that it could be a toilet.  When we got up there he was delighted to find that it was!  It was for golfers, of course, but we both made use of it — it even had separate sections for ladies and gents.  I was amused by a notice on the wall in the ‘Ladies’ — “Changing the toilet roll does not cause brain damage!”

We exited the golf course through a kissing gate feeling that it had served us well!  The path led down through a marshy area with irises growing up everywhere, even through the slots in a duckboard bridge.

As we ascended a steep slope to the clifftop path, the sun finally succeeded in coming out from behind thick clouds.  The sky cleared and we felt infinitely more cheerful.

The views were fantastic, we could see Holyhead in the distance if we looked back, also Y Eifl, the mountain we had almost climbed on the last Walk back in March.

But the walking was challenging, mostly because of the mud — thick gooey mud which, in many cases, couldn’t be avoided.

There were lots of gullies — steep down and steep up the other side, often slippery as well.  I wished I had brought my walking poles, but I hadn’t.  It took me a long time to negotiate these obstacles.  I felt very stiff, as if I was an old woman!  (No! No! No! I am NOT an old woman!!) 

The way sometimes narrowed between gorse bushes and a barbed wire fence.  Occasionally the path sloped sideways making it very difficult to walk, especially if it was slippery.  Stepping stones had been washed away and streams were in spate.  There were lots of minor landslides — this has been a major problem for the Wales Coast Path because of the excessive rain we have experienced in recent months.  Everywhere is waterlogged.

But the streams, waterfalls and the waves crashing over rocks below the cliff were dramatic in themselves — we found them exciting!  There were celandines everywhere, and the occasional patch of early bluebells.  Views of the bays in the sunshine were magnificent!  All of this made our trials and tribulations worthwhile.

We came across a couple of hooks cemented into the top of the cliff and wondered what they were for.  Presumably to haul things up from the beach far below, or perhaps to let down a boat?

Then we saw seals!  There were several of them in the water eating fish, and poking their heads right out of the water by resting on their tails.  It is frustratingly difficult to photograph seals like this, but we managed a few poor shots.  Two young ones were playing in the surf, and humphed themselves up on to the beach.  I love seals!  It was wonderful to watch them.

Towards the end of our Walk the mud was made worse by sheep and cattle using the paths before us.  I felt extraordinarily tired, as if I had no energy.

I felt fatigued as I used to do occasionally before my under-active thyroid was diagnosed.  But that is sorted now, my levels are normal with the medication I take, so I couldn’t understand why I felt that way.  My legs ached so.  I was really glad to get to Towyn.

That ended Walk no.351, we shall pick up Walk no.352 next time at Towyn where the footpath from Tudweiliog emerges.  It was twenty-five past four, so the Walk had taken us seven hours exactly.  We walked nearly a mile across very muddy fields to Tudweiliog.  We had our tea and biscuits, then drove back to our caravan.