From Strumble Head, where I parked, the Strumble Shuttle bus takes a route through the narrowest of lanes, following all sorts of diversions and excursions. At one point I noticed us passing a sign - 'No Coaches' - well that's all right then, this is a fully fledged 23-seater BUS. Rather against my expectations, it deposited me safely at Abercastle just before midday in glorious Pembrokeshire sunshine.
The little harbour boasts a plaque celebrating the achievement of famous inhabitant Alfred 'Centennial' Johnson, who single handedly sailed across the Atlantic from West to East in 1876. In those days Abercastle was a bustling, important port. Now it is a sleepy picturesque village with mostly holiday-let cottages.
I headed off up to the cliff tops and once again walked past countless coves, only accessible from the sea, and looked down on the often needle-sharp rocks which poke their noses up all along the coastline. The clarity of the water meant almost as much was visible below the surface as above. In almost every bay where there was some kind of beach I could see one or two seals loafing about in the shallows, probably waiting for the mothers to give birth - I saw no pups.
A couple of kayakers were making their way along in the same direction as me, but I couldn't keep up: what a way to see all the caves and crevices which are concealed from the cliff-walker.
first Atlantic submarine telegraph cable in 1873.
An open stone shelter - like an animal pound - had been built on one summit while a cairn had been placed on another, presumably as a guide to boats, around this rocky, treacherous part of the Strumble peninsula - the headland beneath (Penbwchdy) has been the cause of many a shipwreck.
Civilisation was on the horizon I could tell - a well-placed bench (no plaque on this one) forewarned the intrepid explorer - and I was shortly looking down on Pwllderi bay. The caves, fissures and small rocky islands combine to make the bay very picturesque.
As expected, the views in every direction from the rocky peak were panoramic and I would have spent longer there had there not been about a million flying ants protecting the trig stone. Stone walls outlined enclosures on the summit, which I interpreted as part of the prehistoric fort marked on the map.
Rather touchingly in the ruins of a lookout hut is a stone inscribed with two WW1 names, and nearby another with the names of the two builders. Close by is a compass engraved on a boulder - not wholly necessary, I feel, as even I knew that Strumble Head lighthouse is pretty well exactly due north! And if the lookouts couldn't see the lighthouse about a mile away, how on earth would they see invaders coming from the west? A cold, lonely spot which didn't see much action is probably the answer.
The lighthouse might be a mile away as the proverbial crow / gull would find it, but along the path there was still about 3 miles. It was a stony and what I call 'grumbulating' route, as the lighthouse - which has the air of the sort of birthday candle you can't blow out - seemed to take an unconscionable time to reach (actually about 1½ hours).
I guess even a cairn needs sunglasses - and the colour scheme matches the heather!
Total walked: 142.5 out of 186
Hi there,
ReplyDeleteGreat photos! Do you know where along the coastal path the second photo down was taken?
Many thanks!