Newgale to Caerfai, Tyddewi

Stage 15: 19th August, approx 9 miles in 4.5 hours.

The path has now crossed an important line: from the English side of the county into the Welsh / Cymraeg. I've now changed onto a new map for North Pembrokeshire, and it is very noticeable on this map that from the north of Newgale (Niwgl) onwards, the majority of names (places, bays, rocks and so on) are Welsh. And so it will continue all the way from now on to Llandudoch (St Dogmaels). Gwych!

The start of the journey from Newgale beach was a switchback - or perhaps more like a bucking bronco trying to rid itself of me like a hapless horsefly - with countless steep ups and downs. The Park Authority has helpfully provided steps on many of the slopes, up which I dutifully toiled. But after a while I found myself using the unofficial 'escape routes' to the side of each set of stairs, as the risers of the steps seemed to get greater and greater.... I felt bad that I was probably adding to the erosion, but I am not a giant, or at least not incredibly fit . Going down again on the other side, I am like Christopher Robin, doing one step at a time.

The coastline on this part of the walk is like the frayed edge of a blanket - all rocky bobbles and ragged threads of rocks reaching out into the sea. Two adjacent peninsulas - Dinas Fach and Dinas Fawr - stick out into the bay. In between them is the National Trust's Pointz Castle - a mediaeval motte - and here there were once again photogenic ponies keeping the grass under control. As I was looking at my map to see how to reach the path to Dinas Fawr, the National Trust pony warden turned up. He had no idea where the path was but we had a good chat about the ponies - he looks after a lot of them for the NT and walks about 10 miles every day to do so.

The path out on to Dinas Fawr was not a lot further on, and I took the diversion out to the end of the point. What an amazing place: the path was very narrow, precarious and rocky. The lichen bore witness to the pureness of the air and the rocks were tipped with white edges. Magical. I tried not to look down too much. From the end of the promontory I could see back to Newgale and on to Solva. On the skyline to the south east the refinery chimneys of the Milford Haven waterway were still obvious.

And so on to Solva, past St Elvis's Farm where there is a small 'forgotten' chapel / holy place. I couldn't discern where it was - just remembered that it exists because I heard about it through PLANED.
Solva's small harbour is hidden away behind a couple of large headlands and I imagine it can be treacherous to navigate in by boat, but very sheltered once safely inside.
At one time Solva had 12 limekilns, a measure of what an important port it used to be. Now there are 4 left.

Del boy look out - parked on Solva quay, Will the Fish has a vehicle to rival Trotter's Independent Traders. I like the number plate. And I'm very partial to lobster & crab too...

The way from Solva to Caerfai (close to St David's) passed this impressive pre-historic fort at Porth y Rhaw. Quite often I find it difficult to make out the ramparts and other fortifications of the many forts along the coastline, as vegetation has claimed them. But I couldn't miss this one. Just before it, at Aberllong, there were the remains of three tugs which went aground on the rocks as recently as 1986.

Caerfai is a small beach at the foot of high cliffs very close to St David's. It has a wonderful mix of sand, rocks and caves to explore and a very steep path back up to the car park. I watched one dad arrive with a child on his shoulders: child dumped gently on the ground and dad immediately sat down too. Ah, those were the days.

Total walked: 110 out of 186

St Bride's Haven to Newgale

Stage 14: St Bride's Haven to Newgale - 12 miles taking about 6 hours on 16th August.

A journey through many havens: St Bride's, Mill, Little, Broad, Druidston and Nolton, not to mention the lesser known Madoc's and Davy William's Haven.

The sun was blisteringly hot when the Puffin Shuttle bus left me at St Bride's Haven, having woven its way from Newgale, where I parked the car, through all the villages I planned to walk to. Even though it was only 10 am, the thought of heatstroke did cross my mind as I turned my back on St Bride's Castle and set out northwards. Just to be safe, I unzipped the bottoms of my hiking trousers and faced the world in shorts. Out in the bay six tankers were calmly waiting in the heat haze - presumably the other two I'd seen the day before yesterday had nipped off round St Ann's Head into Milford Haven. Memo to self: must check if the price of oil rose yesterday.

Just before Mill Haven this sculpture lies to one side of the path - one of a series of five by Alain Ayers entitled 'the Eyes of the Sea'.

For the first 2 hours of my walk I saw no-one. As I crossed the wooden bridge at Mill Haven, a small flock of Canada geese floated on the quiet sea. All were pointing in one direction, but when I looked again they'd all turned as one to float the other way. All was surreally quiet except for the odd small fishing boat moving from one location to the next.

Sounds of water ski-ers warned me that I was about to re-enter civilization; then I met three sets of walkers - always a sure sign that a car park is not far away.
At the harbour in Little Haven there were lots of people were doing different things in the water. And many others were having a pint outside the pub on the quay.

It would have been possible to explore the cave at Settlands point at the north tip of Little Haven at low tide, and then carry on across another sandy beach towards Broad Haven. This would have saved me the walk up a 1-in-5 hill and the equally steep descent to Broad Haven on the other side but, right at the start, I promised myself to take no short cuts, so perhaps it was as well the tide was up.

Tourism was booming at Broad Haven - good for Pembrokeshire's economy - but it's not really my thing. I have to confess, though, to wolfing down a Mr Whippy (with flake), before climbing up to the cliff top once again. Here I stopped to talk with a lady from the Midlands and the discussion turned to Photoshop - as you do when the small talk is about the weather, the crowds and so on. She had created a series of photos of her grandson as a pixie by adding dragonfly wings. By the time I moved on, I'd convinced her that she should write a story with her grandson as pixie-hero. Yep, really.

About 1/2 mile further on, there were two cyclists inching their way down the narrow stony track and I did an uncharacteristic thing: I told them that they shouldn't really be there. I can only assume I was having a guilt-ridden (no pun, of course) moment.

At Haroldston Chins there were two other cyclists canoodling on the bench but, as the path there is tarmacced and close to the road, I kept quiet. Close by is a plaque dedicated to the memory of Paul Blick, one of the founders of the path. I owe him a lot of sweat and enjoyment.

Many of the cliffs on this journey were covered in vegetation: grass, bracken, and so on, but in other places there were signs of landslips. The beaches at both Druidston and Nolton Havens were busy as I passed by.
Between the two are the arches at Madoc's Haven - they look like caves in my picture, but the clarity of the water gives away the view at low tide.

Ricket's Head, a vast crumbling rock marks the southern extremity of Newgale Sands.

Just before Newgale Beach, which is two miles of sand backed by a pebble bank, there is a hollow with a brick chimney and spoil heaps of coal - the relics of Trefrane colliery, and a reminder of the mining industry which thrived a hundred years ago in this area. There are seams of coal in many of the cliffs I passed today.

At Newgale there's yet another limekiln - every port locally seems to have had one.


Total walked: 101 miles of 186

Musselwick Sands to St Bride's Haven

Stage 13: 3 miles in about 1.5 hours on Saturday 14th August

Musselwick Sands is at the southern extremity of the wide bay called St Bride's, and across to the north I could see the hills close to St David's. I always think it's remarkable how the shape of this bay echoes the much bigger horseshoe of Cardigan Bay, which forms the coastline of mid-Wales.

The path today was not difficult at all (i.e. no massive ups / downs), the sun shone and out in the bay eight oil tankers were at anchor. I'm told that they make for this bay as a nice place to sit and wait for the oil price to rise. Once this has happened, then all they have to do is to turn around and enter the Milford Haven waterway to offload at one of the jetties.


Bob accompanied me on this stage of the path, and soon a discussion arose about the naming of a rocky outcrop we could see ahead. The map calls it Nab Head and my guidebook said this was a corruption of Knap, something to do with collecting flints in prehistoric times. Bob favoured Knob, a high bit of ground - and, having consulted the dictionary, I think he's right.

Along the way we met another traveller - this very large (not far off 3") caterpillar - as yet not identified. We also skirted yet another Huntsman's Leap, though without the legend attached to the one close to St Govan's Head (see Stage 6). We were quite glad to be horseless and therefore not obliged to attempt this one.

Much of our route ran to one side of a substantial wall, which is the estate wall for St Bride's Castle and we followed this all the way down to St Bride's Haven.

This is a magical little bay, which looks nothing at high tide but, when the tide is out, the beach is made up of rocks, sand and pools - what proper seaside should be in my view. In the background can be seen yet another set of 'Stack Rocks'.

Close to the beach is a large, well restored lime kiln, where lime brought by boat was burned to be used in agriculture and for painting buildings. We also wandered into the church, which was simply beautiful - certainly dating from the 13th Century.

Total walked: 89 out of 186

Dale to Musselwick Sands

Stage 12 - aptly 12 miles, taking roughly 6hrs on August 12th.

At long last the path led away from the Milford Haven waterway and out round St Ann's Head to the 'proper' cliffs facing the Atlantic.

Before I left the River Cleddau, though, there was much to take in. Above Dale I found strange tipi-like frames in a field - I assume for drying bracken - ?perhaps to burn - not sure. Maybe for something quite different.

The path dipped down into Castlebeach Bay and awaiting me was a driftwood throne, fit for a king. But it was at the next but one bay along, Mill Bay, that the real king had arrived in 1485 and changed the course of history. Harri Tudur (Henry VII) landed here and started his march to Bosworth Fields where he defeated Richard II and founded the Tudor dynasty. A plaque has been erected in the potato field above the bay to record the event.

Not far from here the path passes the West Blockhouse, which still appears to be manned (and flagged), but most likely with holidaymakers. This is the final fort in the chain which runs both sides of the Cleddau.

There are two lighthouses at St Ann's Head, one of which makes a superb holiday cottage. What really took my fancy though was a walled garden to the southeast of the settlement - completely derelict and full of brambles, but what a challenge!

Before I turned my head northwards I took a look at Cobbler's Hole - it wasn't the hole which grabbed my attention.

So then it was on to West Dale, where you can see right across to the other side the peninsula around which I had just walked. There I could see the village of Dale and all its boats bobbing about at anchor, which I had left more than two hours before. I could understand why the builders of Dale Castle built it where it lies, between the two bays, but can't help feeling it must be jolly draughty.

It must have been most exciting landing and taking off from the old Dale airstrip, which lies right on the cliff top, but is now just a collection of weedy concrete strips. Much more scenic is Marloes Sands, a huge expanse of sand and jagged rocks which lies beneath the airfield. I thought I was going to get away without descending from the cliff top to sea level (about 150 feet), but not a bit of it - down we went, and back up the other side.

Not long after this I began to think about life at the edge and to recall Tim Smit's words in his book about the Eden Project :if you don't live at the edge, you're taking up too much space. In a nutshell, the path was precipitous, and I would have liked a bit more space. The cliffs had moreover changed from being sandstone to a black rock, which looked smooth enough in places to slide down.

Adjacent to Martin's Haven a mile or so further on is a promontory called Deer Park - not that deer have ever grazed here apparently. However there are several National Trust ponies keeping the grass so you could play billiards on it. The names for the different bays, coves, headlands and so on all along the coast path are wonderfully descriptive - in a short stretch I passed Raggle Rocks, Watery Bay, Little Castle Bay, Rainy Rock, Pitting Gales Point and, more sinisterly, Deadman's Bay. Facing the treacherous Jack Sound between the mainland and Skomer Island is Mouse Haven, with the first natural arch I have seen for quite a few miles.

On the way down to the jetty at Martin's Haven (departure point to Skomer) is a 'ringed' Celtic cross, which has been set into the stone wall. Discovered relatively recently it is evidence of the use of this area by early Christian Celts.

My destination was Musselwick Sands some two miles further on, where I peered down on a few holidaymakers, who were all in the shelter of the north end of the beach as the wind had risen to be quite strong.


Total walked: 86 miles - 100 to go!

Milford Haven to Dale

Stage 11 - August 10th - 10 miles, taking 5 hours (including a half hour wait for the tide to go out at Sandy Haven)
I'd been so looking forward to this walk after the urban flavour of the previous three stages that it was bound to be something of an anticlimax. That's not to say it wasn't a pleasant ramble, but that it didn't take my breath away in the way that some of the previous walks have done.

My battle with the weather forecasters continues to the point where I think that the only level on which you can trust a forecast is when it's talking about the past. From which it may be understood that I started (and continued for about 3 hours) in dispiriting drizzle, instead of promised sunshine. However, the dampness did have the effect of making the Milford Haven waterway eerily silent. And when the sun tried to force an entrance into the sky, a ghostly grey mist appeared, blocking out the view almost completely. Most photos I took in this period had to be deleted. It's good, though, that we don't have to worry about film getting damp nowadays.

From Milford Haven there was one more section of suburban walk to complete through Hakin but this was quick and the way dropped down into Gelliswick beneath yet another Victorian fort (Hubberston) and sheltering behind one of the huge oil-jetties. The village - most un-Milfordlike and rather picturesque - is home to Pembroke Haven Yacht Club, but there were no yachts or boats of any kind moored there. Lots in the club's boatyard though, including a couple of longboats (rowing boats), both with the sort of punning names which now are everywhere in the maritime world: 'Son of a Beach' and 'Oooo...PS'.

To cross the next beach at South Hook I had to walk right beneath the pipelines of one of the two of the Haven's huge liquefied natural gas terminals. There was a massive tanker moored at the jetty. Above us reared up yet another of the forbidding forlorn coastal forts - one of the so-called 'Palmerston's follies'.

At Sandy Haven the path crosses the creek by way of some 25 stepping stones and a low footbridge, which are only passable for about 2 hours either side of low tide - I'd been very careful to time my arrival there to coincide with this window of opportunity, as the alternative is a detour of about 3 miles by road. In the event I was early and so I waited for 1/2 hour for the water to expose enough of the stones for me to venture across. I watched a seagull catching crabs while I waited. The bird would find a crab sheltering under the low bridge and peck it out. Then followed a farcical few moments when the gull dropped the crab, it scampered away, was caught, dropped, ran again, was caught, was eaten. When I eventually reached the bridge all that remained were a few lonesome limbs.

On the cliffs again after the dip to sea level, my way often lay between two high hedges of gorse / bracken / thorn / bramble, which gave me the car wash experience again, and restricted my view of the Haven. I met four National Park rangers trashing parts of the path, which will make it better for my successors. Occasionally though I broke out of the jungle - the pic is a modern nautical navigational aid.

After passing the time of day with two codgers sat on a bench close to St Ishmael's, who needed to hear full details of my life to date, I followed the path down into Monk Haven. This small cove is so named because it was here that Cornish and Irish monks would land and proceed on foot to St David's. They gave thanks for their safe arrival at the church at St Ishmael's. The cove has a massive wall at its head with rings set into it for tying up boats. The most striking thing about the beach is the red colour of all the pebbles and rocks.

Up on the cliffs once more, Dale Bay came into sight with perhaps a hundred or more (mostly small) boats riding at anchor in what by now was a sunny day. I was heading for the bay to the north of this where the tide was way out and I could find my second set of stepping stones and footbridge to avoid yet another mammoth road detour. This time almost the last stone to cross was partly under water and looked slippery (see the view looking back on the 'naughty step'). So I braved wading past it, testing my much prized and generally waterproof walking boots beyond reason.

Total now walked: approx 74 miles / 186

Pembroke Dock to Milford Haven

Wednesday 4th August - Stage 10 - 8.5 miles, 4hrs 15 mins. The Bridge Walk.

To celebrate my birthday, I decided to get the last urban section of the Path out of the way for good. So, in a light drizzle I made my way across the Cleddau, thanks to the windswept, exceptionally noisy bridge and then over the adjacent and equally unpleasant-to-walk-across Honeyborough bridge.

Brunel Quay in Neyland celebrates Isambard Kingdom Brunel's connection with the town - he chose it to be the embarkation port for his transatlantic crossing ambitions. This life size statue celebrates his two achievements for the town - the bringing of both the railway and the port - a steam ship in one hand and a railway engine in the other. I think it's his outsize hat which makes him look rather small.

Neyland went into a decline following the rise of Milford Haven docks, the closure of the railway station and, finally, the building of the Cleddau Bridge which by-passes the town. The newish Marina has brought a bit of prosperity once again.

Another mile or so on the road took me past Llanstadwell to Hazelbeach. I love looking into other people's gardens as I go along and am constantly amazed not only by the gorgeous plants and flowers, but also by the individuality and inventiveness I see.

A fireplace in the front wall - why not?? And top it off with some exotic succulent, why don't you.

All morning the smell of buddleia was intoxicating and the colour magnificent.

At last I left the road, and clambered back up on to a grassy path which circuited the Murco refinery (at Waterston) and a number of liquefied natural gas storage tanks.

On my way I passed an apple tree complete with windfalls, so I loaded up my pack with a few handpicked samples. The fields here were definitely set-aside, but no worse a view for all that. A gentle breeze brought a flurry of thistledown across my face.

Now the route became like the Bridges of Madison County. I expected to come across Meryl and Clint canoodling at any moment. I crossed 2 mesh bridges (one of them 'covered'), 1 metal covered bridge, 3 wooden footbridges and a bog-standard road bridge between here and Milford Haven. Being able to see through the mesh bridges to the ground beneath made me feel vertiginous, but I liked the way the kindly builders had considered dogs, and provided planks for paws to walk over along one side.

A dice with death on a minor road with fast-moving traffic, and then I was in Milford Haven with the next bridge in my sights. But I don't cross this one until the next walk towards Dale.

Total walked to date: 64 miles of 186

Hundleton to Pembroke Dock

Walk 9 - about 5 miles, 2 1/2 hours, 3rd August.

I knew this was going to be a not very exciting walk, but necessary to get me close to the Cleddau Bridge. Surprisingly, much of the walk was in fact not on tarmac but on paths along the river bank. Early on I met a lot of eye-level ragwort, knotweed and nettles which indicated to me that not a lot of people do this part of the Coast Path.

Not far from Hundleton there's a dip down to the Pembroke river to a place called Quoit's Mill - a water mill which only exists in name now. A small boat lay abandoned on the low tide mud and on the other side of the lane was a huge tap with water gushing out. This would be a great rival to Thomas the Tap, which Dŵr Cymru / Welsh Water used to take to the Eisteddfod to amuse the children.

A mile of road followed from here which took me through Monkton and down into Pembroke. According to my guide book legend has it that there is a tunnel from Monkton vicarage garden down to Pembroke Castle, though quite what for I'm not sure. Pembroke changed sides to the Royalist cause in the Civil War having originally supported Cromwell. The latter didn't take kindly to this and laid siege to the town for 48 days, ultimately dismantling part of the Castle and punishing the turncoat town mayor by death.

However, today the castle was looking grand in the sun, all decked out with tourists on every battlement.

It must have been an intimidating experience to arrive by water at the castle and go through this gate - rather like the Tower of London.

The route to Pembroke Dock involved a number of stone 'squeeze' stiles, plus two sets of stepping stones across small streams. A steep climb then took me up to Pennar, at the western end of Pembroke Dock.

Bits of Pembroke Dock feel as if you are in a massive museum, with so many restored naval / military buildings - but somehow they lack any pzazz or charisma. Perhaps that's not what such buildings should have, but they do look a bit forlorn without any personnel. The Garrison Chapel is now looking lovely, thanks to the Heritage Lottery fund - let's hope that some use is made of it once the works are complete, not just leaving it to be gawped at from the outside.

One of the distinguishing features of both Pembroke and Pembroke Dock are the rows of Pembroke cottages - single storey, double fronted houses - built as workmen's / dockyard workers' dwellings in the early 19th C. Not very glamorous perhaps, but very much part of the local architecture.

Total now walked: 55.5 miles out of 186