Outwards on the old 118 again but this time no foreigners, perhaps they take Fridays off. Forecast was for rain but it stayed away which helped as I had a long one today to get to the finish I originally planned at Crofty. Detoured to a coffee and crepe van that was in a corner of a caravan park and recommended on the Google. Wasn’t open. Can’t trust them or that fuckbook. They lie!
Here we are at Rhossili again, going north this time. Time to choose. Along the top of the dunes or along the sand. The beach starts are a nice change from the hard climbs that I normally get.Looking up at Rhossili and the Worm’s Head. The sand of course – provided it’s hard. The feet want what the feet want. Not sure if that bundle in the centre belongs to the fisherman or to someone who has gone for their last swim.That small gap between the island and the head was going to be a wonderful shortcut but no, denied again.At the end of the beach and quite a pleasant hour long it was. Dark but still no rain.I’m up through the dunes for a few miles and hoping for a coffee break. Fool.These are the rare Swansea shore-hugging sheep. They persist on a diet of ice cream cones, candy floss and snickers and are often fleeced by holidaying barbers keeping their hand in.Broughton bay and I’m taking the high road this time.Apparently I’m not going out to the point of this one.Pembrokeshire across the estuary. What the F is happening, about a hundred runners have been coming at me in groups of ten or twenty and I’m about to get stuck trying to get down off this huge dune by another hundred or so walkers jamming up the narrow path.Poor dead trees in the marsh. I’m heading for some coffee now to get away from the constant stream of running f’ers coming at me.A woodpecker glory hole. Christus but these bastards are doing my head in. Thank fuck they are not coming up behind me.A bee hive? These people are all following paper signs with a blue arrow on. I bloody hope that they don’t think I’m one of them.Some sheeps doing the sheeps thing and being mighty economically about it.Sensible bridging technique. But as we have learnt recently, nothing new. The Romans were doing it Pompeii two thousand years ago.There is a lot of this marsh. Some of it populated like the Serengeti.Crofty but many more miles to go before she holds me in her arms.Ahhh! Who is my father then?Very polite road users just pulling off to let me pass.I’ve won. Must have, no one passed me.Just passed an entrance to this castle’s grounds and all has become clear. The LiveTrails festival is being held here. Not sure I get it but OK. What do the thousands of trail sweaty people do before trying to pick up a bit of strange at the music bit? Just say, to hell with it we all stink anyway.Now that I am through the finish I see that the arrows have changed. The pride peeps are running in the opposite direction! The way I’m going!Multi-coloured horse society living in peace. Puts us to shame. She’s desperate to get to Tesco afore they shut. Now, what is the symbolism of the ace of spades? Has this pole claimed a victim and begun wearing it as a trophy?Many, many questions, How will you know if the cat you see is the blind one? Why is your blind cat roaming out and free? Could they not have extended the traffic calming measures for another few metres? Can you be incautious of non-blind cats? Are just some of them.More miles of marshes.That big pyramid dune – if you can make it out – is where I was first accosted by the LiveTrails shits. Thankfully I’ve been free of them for the last four miles.Crofty finally looking closer.If they aren’t wild horses, how do the owners get them back into the barn?And the Gower Peninsula is done.
After yesterday, I didn’t think I’d manage such a long trek today but I surprised myself and would say that this is the best of the walks this week albeit spoilt a little by the oncoming tide of festival goers.
