Freshwater East to St Govan's Chapel

Walk no: 5 (I've got to stop calling them 'legs', it's too close to the mark) - about 7 miles. This was the walk to prove the weathermen wrong in their persistent dismal forecasts, but I think we'll call it a draw. I started out in the rain from Freshwater East, not cats and dogs, but definitely wet. As it was before 7 in the morning (how obsessive is that?), I was the only person on the beach and indeed it was about an hour and a half before I saw anyone else. After a while I gave up on my rainjacket; it was more like a black bin bag with sleeves and I was wetter on the inside with sweat than I was on the out. The bracken either side of the path in places made me realise how the Corsa feels in the automatic car wash, but eventually I arrived on open land and dried out a bit. I could see blue skies ahead of me to the west - it had to be better over there.

At Stackpole Quay I could see lights on in the cafe, but everything looked deserted - that's the trouble with setting off so early.




After Barafundle beach, which was deserted except for an early morning jogger and me, I made my way round Stackpole Head and across National Trust land, called Stackpole Warren. There are ponies grazing here - quite a number of them and foals. The National Trust is experimenting I believe with using ponies as part of their conservation plans. I hope they don't get on to the acres of ragwort I saw as well - very poisonous for horses. I am not a ragwort fan; it reminds me of many long hours spent in the sun on the farm pulling the stuff.


Today was the day of the blowhole. I saw four on my route, at least. A blowhole is a hole in the ground through which you can often see the sea beneath. The cliffs, fissures and caves I could see from the path were quite amazing. And the various rock formations just blow your mind away. These arches are to the west of Barafundle.

At Raming Hole, a very steep sided cove the noise from the sea birds was deafening - not gulls, some other birds with a loud, musical call. I saw a lot of different birds today, starting with gulls trying to frighten off a shag, which was drying its wings quite oblivious to the shemozzle of noise. Then there were goldfinches, chough, ravens (I think) and all manner of other birds which are as yet strangers to me.

I found a healthy crop of mushrooms up there too. I could hear my father's voice telling me never NEVER to eat fungus found out in the wild, but I did anyway. Then it was down on to Broadhaven (South) beach, which again was empty save for one man and his dog. By now I had beaten the weatherman, and the sun was shining.

Looking back at Church Rock from Broadhaven you get your last view of Caldey Island and St Margarets in the far distance. From Broadhaven it is a short walk across to St Govan's head and I was lucky that the path across this part of Castlemartin firing range was open. The army are also doing their bit in the conservation of the area, but it somehow seems rather organised with signs warning you not to stray off the path and any number of bunkers (?gun emplacements) in gullies along the way. I could hear the boom-boom of guns in the distance and indeed the red flag was up at St Govan's head, preventing me going on to Stack Rocks had I wanted to.


Instead I went down to St Govan's chapel, squeezed between the cliffs, down steep steps. I felt perhaps I should be going back up them on my knees as pilgrims do en route to Santiago de Compostela. But I didn't want to get my trousers wet again. As my guide book puts it - one thing is demonstrated: monastic life did not encourage obesity.

Then it was on to the Coastal Cruiser bus and a quick whizz back to Freshwater East, squeezing past a surprising number of lorries coming the other way, including one delivering Felinfoel Ales.

Total walked on the path: 25 miles+