Tuesday, 4 August 2015

Haverford West, Horses

Walt has booked a timber chalet near Haverford West for three weeks for him and Stella. I was to join them for their Week One.
buddlea and nostalgia coming into Newport




I left Leeds at 12.50 on Sunday, giving myself Unity Day Recovery time, changing at Manchester Piccadilly, next train going all the way to Haverfordwest West but stopping at all the big and little south Welsh stations.
The trainline from Newport to Haverfordwest was a solid line of butterfly bushes, purple buddlea. As I passed through Bridgend, the birthplace of my father I took a photo of the table, covered with all the usual suspects plus Gareth Edward's book, Proud. (Gareth initially famous for coming from and originally playing rugby for Bridgend).


Haverford West looked quiet at 9 on Sunday as I tumbled out of the train with my stupid new and awkward trolley rucksack. There was one taxi. I took it. Remembering I have no food we stopped to buy cream crackers and cheese, and milk for the teabags, and of course a celebratory red.



Dusk was being overtaken by night as Timberhill Chalet No 43 bobbed up on our radar, and John appears, welcomes me with wifi, and I settle to Night One.

Next day I hang around quite happily until cream crackers again loses its appeal. They have been supper, breakfast and lunch. Take a stupid long way round to Broad Haven, which is totally worth the walk and the wait. A cafe. A Londis. A walk along the beach. Jelly fish. Fungi. Take the Pembroke coastal path back and end in the campsite. Have a great late afternoon doing absolutely nothing till Walt and Stella appear, then do more nothing.
Tuesday Do nothing

Wednesday walk to Broad Haven again, meet up with son and granddaughter who have cycled down, walk home, more nothing.

Thursday they go off to Broadhaven; I take a 5 hour hike along the Pembroke Coastal Path to Nolton Haven. En route I descend into Druidston Bay. Unspoilt, almost empty, I sit in a cave and eat the sandwich Walt made me. Delicious.

Thus rested I climb the southerly path out of the bay when. A couple of horse hove into view. I stand to wait for them to pass, but more appear and then more. Eventually 50 odd of the critters appear, and the wait is longer than expected.

Around every bend the views are stunning. I arrive at Nolton Haven, take a tea and a bun at the Anchor pub, leave my cup and plate as requested in the sink, and return whence I came. Taking the road for a while I pass two quirky little buildings, one pictured, rejoin the path, and then, by now quite weary, sit awhile, drink and read.

Back at base more nothing then some badminton. Stella and Walt now own a body board and wet suits.

On Friday I am leaving on the long train to Manchester, which is about to take longer than I expected!

selfie at Druidston
Nolton Haven

no cycling, can barely climb or descend!

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