Walk 390 -- West Angle Bay to Freshwater West

Ages: Colin was 79 years and 38 days. Rosemary was 76 years and 180 days. 

Weather: Sunny with a light breeze. Turning hot. 

Location: West Angle Bay to Freshwater West. 

Distance: 6 miles. 

Total distance: 3964 miles. 

Terrain: Mostly grassy cliff paths. Very undulating — up and down almost vertical 'paths' with few steps cut in. It was dangerous! A flat sandy beach at the end. 

Tide: Going out. 

Rivers: None. 

Ferries: None. 

Piers: None. 

Kissing gates: No.957. 

Pubs: None. 

‘Cadw’ properties: None. 

Ferris wheels: None. 

Diversions: None. 

How we got there and back: We were caravanning at Freshwater East. This morning we drove to Freshwater West where we parked. We caught the bus to West Angle Bay. 

At the end we came to Freshwater West car park. We bought delicious crab rolls from the mobile cafe there and ate them ravenously. Then we drove back to our caravan at Freshwater East. 

 

A notice at the top of the beach at West Angle Bay told us that coal used to be brought in from South Pembrokeshire and used in a limekiln alongside the small harbour. Locally made bricks were exported from here. There were a string of forts around here to guard the entrance to the estuary, the oldest of which dates from the 16^th century. 

We left West Angle Bay car park on a good path along the edge of a grassy field. We noticed that a group of girls ahead of us were taking short cuts across the field where the main path led. But we stuck to the field edges on the official path and the one nearest the sea. We were rewarded with magnificent views across to St Ishmael's and St Ann's Head. 

Colin was having trouble with one of his boots. We both bought new and expensive walking boots a few weeks ago. Mine have been 'walked-in' and are super-comfy. Colin's are too except that they rub on one ankle bone making it sore. I said that with use the leather would become more supple and it would cease to rub, but that didn't solve the immediate problem. Several times we had to stop while he adjusted a foam pad he had inserted. Later it ceased to rub as I had predicted, and he was comfortable. 

We came to the westernmost point of our Walk and turned south. There was the scant remains of an old fort at the end, and some horses with very long manes were grazing. 

Further on we came to a Second World War gun emplacement. Obviously the entrance to Milford Haven Harbour had to be very well defended in the past. 

We were about a mile into the Walk when I remarked to Colin that the notice on West Angle Bay beach had described this walk as “challenging”. But we hadn't found it to be challenging at all, in fact we were enjoying it very much. I should have kept my big mouth shut! For next thing we came to a very deep cleft and the paths down and up were nigh on vertical. No steps had been cut in, yet it was as steep as a ladder! But we negotiated it without mishap — I used my poles and took it very slowly at my own pace. 

We passed Sheep Island where there are a lot of very interesting rocks pushed up horizontally and vertically. A geologist's paradise! 

We met a lot of walkers on the way going in both directions — everybody going in our direction was faster than us, but they were also much younger. A couple of men we met stopped for a chat. They were looking at a small flock of birds circling round and wondering if they were choughs. But they were too far away to identify. Later on they flew nearer and Colin said they had orange beaks, not red. I suggested they were youngsters, but then I know very little about birds. 

These two gentlemen expressed concern about us 'oldies' walking on to Freshwater West. Did we know that the going was quite tough? We thanked them for their concern and assured them we had encountered worse in Scotland. What we hadn't taken into account was the fact that walking in Scotland had been quite a few years back — twelve years since we did that epic Walk to Cape Wrath! We were much older now. We walked on full of confidence, blissfully unaware of what lay before us. 

We turned a corner at the remains of an old lookout post, and very soon came across another deep cleft. This one was worse than the first with almost vertical sides and no steps! For the much advertised Wales Coastal Path we thought this was bad. These clefts consumed us for the rest of the Walk — we lost count of how many there were (it turned out there were seven!) and each seemed to be steeper than the last. We were no longer enjoying our Walk.

We weren't the only ones having difficulties. One lady we met told us she had climbed out of one of the clefts on her hands and knees because she didn't feel safe!. Colin said that it was more like rock scrambling — except that the terrain was sandy with loose stones, hence quite unstable. 

We were coping okay until the penultimate cleft. On my way down this one I slipped and fell. Fortunately we had moved off the 'path' into long grass beside it because there we felt we could get a better grip, but I didn't and fell headlong. I rolled a bit and wrenched my right thumb. I yelled into the grass which was in my face, “I'm all right except for my thumb!” It must have looked drastic from Colin's point of view. I think I must have bent my thumb right backwards and it hurt like hell. I wasn't sure if I had broken it. But apart from that I was completely unhurt because of the soft grass. 

There was nothing to be done but carry on, there was no other way out. I couldn't use my thumb for anything, but I found that by putting the palm of my hand on top of my walking pole I could actually use it — just about. My poles were essential for getting up and down those slopes. 

We could see Freshwater West beach in the distance, it looked so near yet so far. It got very hot and we were both sweating like pigs! (We don't do hot! The thought of spending a holiday sunbathing on a Mediterranean beach is our idea of hell!) At last there were no more clefts but a more gentle path down to the dunes. There we had a choice — either cross the dunes to the road or go straight down to the beach. We chose the beach, of course! It was firm sand and it was flat! 

A mile of firm flat sand next to the rolling surf — what could be better? But we were both too tired, too hot, and I was in too much pain to enjoy it as we should. It was with relief that we reached the car park at the further end of the beach. 

 

That ended Walk no.390, we shall pick up Walk no.391 next time at Freshwater West car park. It was ten to three, so the Walk had taken us five and a quarter hours. We bought delicious crab rolls from the mobile cafe there and ate them ravenously. Then we drove back to our caravan at Freshwater East. 

By the next day half my right hand had swelled and turned black. But I still think the thumb was only sprained, not broken. It's amazing the simple things I can't do. It would have helped if I was left-handed, but I'm not. 

I began questioning whether we are too old to continue with this Trek. Fit as we are, we can't get away from the fact that Colin will be 80 in less a year and I will be 77 before the year is out. We have both slowed up considerably. But we can't give it up now! Perhaps I'll feel better when my thumb has healed.