This was not a walk for vertigo sufferers. It started peacefully enough in brilliant sunshine with an amble across wonderful Freshwater West beach, where I met one of my Narberth students (Welsh learner), who was watching her children have surfing lessons. Ahead of me I could see a procession of walkers starting up the hillside on to the cliffs - the numbers indicating that the holiday season has started. I joined them, and soon found that the path became steep and steeper.
From the past I could hear in my brain the voice of Chaim, an Israeli guide on the Mencap Cycle Ride across the Sinai Desert, saying 'There are no uphills, only downhills'. He was lying. And today the downhills were every bit as challenging as the uphills on the other side. I would not dream of taking a mountain bike down any one of them. The National Park sign rather belatedly called my attention to the matter.
The limestone cliffs of the previous bits of coastline had been replaced by sandstone - a sumptuous red colour, which is found in many of the pebbles and rocks strewn on Freshwater West beach and in all the coves I passed on the way to Angle. The cliffs were often stripy and many appeared to have folds and pleats.
Out on the blue, blue sea I could see the pilot boat flirting with a huge tanker, which finally left the Milford Haven waterway and turned for the Atlantic. On its way into port was the Irish Ferry (Isle of Inishmore), racing for Pembroke Dock, no quarter given. Small yachts were enjoying the breeze and over ahead was St Ann's Head.
It was quite nice once the boom-boom of the Castlemartin range guns gave way to the usual sea noises. All was at peace in my world, with birdsong and many different coloured butterflies and the rasping of my breath at each summit. Eventually the path became more gentle and I passed Sheep and Rat Islands on my way round to West Angle Bay. Scattered along the coast here are various military buildings. The one I coveted was built right into the westernmost point of the headland. It had a semicircular front, so that a good lookout could be kept at this strategic site.
Over on the other side of the waterway lies St Ann's Head, with its white lighthouse and other buildings, all looking perfect today. Now that I've walked this route, I realise more than ever the scale of the devastation following the Sea Empress's wreck off St Ann's in 1996, and also of course what the Gulf of Mexico is currently suffering.
It was almost time to leave the Atlantic / Irish Sea and start the walk inland along the Waterway to the Cleddau Bridge. First of all though I dropped down into West Angle Bay where the great British seaside holiday was in full swing, with ice creams, sand-sandwiches and wind shelters. The sea had gone way, way out.
I sat for a while on the sea wall and ate three rather stale Welsh cakes which I'd found in my freezer. They probably gave me enough calories to sustain me for the next three days. Then it was off on the next leg, from West Angle Bay round to East Angle Bay. The erosion of the sandstone is quite obvious: it doesn't do to be too close to the edge just here.
The first bit of fortification to pass is Thorn Island, now a grand hotel for very loud screaming seagulls. Next, out in the river is another circular fort on Stack Rock, its shape echoed by the gas terminals at South Hook on the other bank. On my side next was Chapel Bay Fort, lovingly restored complete with big guns by a private individual.
I neared the end of my walk at East Angle Bay and looked across to the refinery, where the flare I saw from Castlemartin range was still bright in the sky.
Total I've walked: 42 miles / 144 still to do.
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