Walk 373 -- Fishguard to Trefasser

Ages:  Colin was 73 years and 64 days.  Rosemary was 70 years and 206 days.

Weather:  Fine and hot to start with.  Gradually it clouded over, and then we had drizzle for a couple of hours.  This stopped, but it remained dull.  A cooling breeze turned to a gusty wind towards the end of the Walk.
Location:  Fishguard to Trefasser.
Distance:  10 miles.
Total distance:  3852 miles.
Terrain:  Cliff paths with gullies.  It was uneven and deeply undulating, but slightly kinder than the last two Walks.
Tide:  High water around 4pm.
Rivers:  None.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  Nos.886, 887, 888, 889, 890, 891, 892, 893 & 894.  (Nine in all)
Pubs:  None.
‘Cadw’ properties:  None.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  We were staying in our caravan in Letterston.  This morning we drove to Trefasser and parked at a viewpoint near the hostel.  We walked down to the bus stop at Trefasser Cross where we caught a bus to the picnic site where we finished the last Walk.
At the end we came to the car.  We had our tea, then returned to the caravan.

Once more we are walking on Annalise’s birthday.  Our lovely daughter is 43 today.  She has been happily married to Mark for twelve years and now lives in Petersfield.  Her two children have fled the nest and are both doing well.  Annalise is now entering a new phase of her life — that of an “empty-nester”!

We sat in the picnic site to eat our pasties before we started the Walk.  Then we descended a lot of steps to the beach at Goodwick Sands.

There we came across a mosaic memorial to the last invasion of Britain by a hostile alien force in 1797.  It ended pretty badly for the French — their ship was blown off course and they actually landed on a tiny lonely beach a few miles west of Fishguard.  There they found most farms and cottages stocked up with wine which the locals had recently salvaged from a wrecked Portuguese ship.  So the French soldiers helped themselves and got roaring drunk.  Looking up from their drunken stupor, they saw the tall hats and red cloaks of numerous Welsh ladies in the distance and thought that ‘thousands’ of British soldiers were bearing down on them!  One of the ladies, a formidable woman called Jemima Nicholas, strode forward pitchfork in hand and demanded their surrender.  She then marched them off to jail — an ignominious defeat for the French.

There was also a mosaic celebrating a steam railway, the local station was finally closed in 1982 but has recently been reopened.

In a shelter there were four lovely paintings of local scenes done by local children.  I love these initiatives!  We didn’t walk the harbour wall because it was a dead end and we had a long hike ahead.  As we walked round towards the port we saw a curlew on the beach — beautiful bird!

There was no ship in the port, but a few cars were there waiting for the next ferry.  There are now only two sailings a day, it was much busier back in 1978 when we sailed from here to Ireland with our four children for a camping holiday in the Emerald Isle.  The lady in the pasty shop this morning had talked about Fishguard being ‘quiet’ and ‘dead’ these days.

There was a metal footbridge over the port entrance so we didn’t interfere with the flow of traffic at busy times, if there are any busy times anymore.

Then we climbed steps and steps and zigzag paths up and up and up until we got to a dead-end lane at the top of the cliffs.  We were in a residential road, and encountered rather a lot of gnomes in one of the front gardens.

At the end of the road were some cannons, so we deduced this cliff was a fort at one time.  From there we watched a ferry come in from Ireland far below us.

We went through a gate and on to the cliff path.  We met a young girl of about twelve who had a very nervous dog with her.  She had great difficulty getting it past us because the dog was terrified of strangers.  I wonder what it’s history was.

The cliff path was more open than the one on the last Walk, we didn’t feel so hemmed in.  We hoped this ‘kinder’ path would last — it didn’t.

The views were spectacular, as always.

We met a spattering of people on this section of coast, but not as many as we had on Dinas Head.

We found some rocks to sit on to eat our sarnies, my rock was very comfy — it seemed to fit my bum perfectly!  I didn’t want to get up and move on.

We walked round a little bay called Aber Felin.

On the other side we met some people who said there were seals further on.  Then we saw them, right down the bottom of sheer cliffs so we didn’t get very good pictures of them.

I photographed some flowers and a honeysuckle.

We descended into a wooded gully to cross a stream and came across a tree swing.  I sat on it to eat my apple, and Colin had a swing on it before we left.

As we came out of the wood it started raining.  We donned wet-weather gear and put our cameras away.  Then I got mine out again to photograph an orchid which was looking very beautiful by the side of the path.

I put my camera away again.  Then Colin got his out to photograph a memorial stone to the French invasion of 1797 — apparently this was the actual spot where they landed.  He put his camera away again.

We plodded on in the rain which, thankfully, was only a drizzle.  We thought we were further on than we were which was a bit depressing when we found out.

Every time we topped a headland we thought we would see Strumble Head lighthouse — but we didn’t, just another headland.

We met an Irishman who was looking for the memorial stone we had passed about a mile back because that’s where he was supposed to turn inland towards his B&B — so he said.  He didn’t seem to have much of a clue, and was clutching one of those useless sketch maps which are just a wiggly line across a blank page, no detail.  We reassured him that he had about a mile to go, and moved on quickly before he told us the whole history of Ireland!  I worried about him later on, wondering if he ever found his B&B.

We plodded on, uphill and down.  My knee was becoming a bit of a problem despite me taking painkillers every two hours.  The rain eased off, but the wind got up making it a bit dodgy in places where the path ran right next to the edge of the cliff.  We sat on the end of a bridge in a gully to eat our first chocolate. 

At last we topped a rise and saw the top of Strumble Head lighthouse — we were there!  The last bus had long since left and there were only two cars in the car park.  We knew we were running late.  We walked straight through, a sign told us it was three miles to Trefasser.

We climbed up even higher.  Then the path went into a bog and we got a bit mixed up, but we soon extricated ourselves.  There were more spectacular views, but we had to watch where we were walking because the path was rocky and it was still windy.

There was a huge hill ahead, which we climbed — and there was the hostel which was very near where our car was parked.  It looked quite near, but we were fooled.  The path turned away and went a long circuitous route before it got there.  I was tired and in pain (my knee), so I went into “march-mode” to keep me going.  So we didn’t stop for our second chocolate when we should have — besides we couldn’t find a place out of the wind.  Colin was very quiet, he was tired too.  We couldn’t believe another gully!  It’s cruel!  After that the path turned round away from the hostel in order to keep to the coast.

But at last it led up and up and up, and out on to the road by the hostel.  Our car was parked at a viewpoint a few yards down the road.  It started to rain just a few minutes later, we reached the car just in time. 

That ended Walk no.373, we shall pick up Walk no.374 next time at the viewpoint near the hostel at Trefasser.  It was quarter to eight, so the Walk had taken us eight and three-quarter hours.  We had our tea, then returned to the caravan.