Day 29: Porth Oer to Aberdaron
Go out alone again
Kate needed a day off. Our slower pace yesterday got her through the night, but not completely.
I probably should have taken a zero day too, but I’m too stubborn. I could have slept all day, but I chose Tylenol, fresh air, and a healthy walk.
That’s the downside of having a pre-established walking schedule. Either we walk or we lose that day. The bonus is being able to book a beachfront room like ours on a busy holiday weekend.
Hikers have to walk, so I stayed outside and waited for our taxi driver. Do you remember the first time you heard a native speaker of Spanish, French, or German after earning an “A” in your first foreign language class in high school? That’s what it’s like to try to talk to our taxi driver.
I listen as loud as I can, but everything happens too fast. When I finally catch a word, I repeat it out loud. Then he smiles and repeats it too. I say «Yes!» and the almost indecipherable conversation continues again.
After four minutes of attempted communication about tomorrow’s pickup, followed by seven minutes of blessed silence, we arrived at Porth… Whistling Sands.
When he dropped me off, I think we reached a consensus that I didn’t need to be picked up that afternoon. I would walk back to our inn in Aberdaron.
More genius from Llyn
My route today took me to the other end of the Llyn Peninsula and then back to Aberdaron on the south side. Some call it the Lands End of Wales.
The ride was magnificent. It had all the colors, climbs, clouds, cliffs and cows. As well as sheep, woolly, shorn and partially shorn (never disrespect the barber during a haircut, my little furry friends).
The weather was perfect. 50s. Sea breeze. Sunny. Puffy clouds. Wonderfully out of Arizona for this time of year. Ideal for the long climbs between Porth Oer and Lands End.
At one door, a movement in the bay caught my attention. I stood and watched a lobster boat pull and empty its traps before each of us moved down the coast in opposite directions.
Have you had any contact with farm animals?
I also dodged a lot of animal droppings. A staggering amount, even by normal Coast Path standards.
Kate made up a little song that I catch her singing in some of the worst moments when she’s around. It’s to the tune of Give Me Oil in My Lamp, if you know that one from Christian summer camp. But his lyrics are not appropriate for the Christian field.
“I have poop in my shoe in the morning, I have poop in my shoe all day…”
I’ll probably throw away my shoes when we get to Porthmadog instead of putting them in a suitcase with my clothes. They have done their duty.
After hiking the South West Coast Trail and flying back to the United States a few years ago, the customs agent asked us if we had had any contact with farm or corral animals. We both laughed and said «More than you can imagine.»
He had barely looked up when he asked the written question, but he was in shock after we answered. “No,” he clarified, “I mean, have you had any close contact with his feces?” We smile and repeat: “All day, every day, for two months.”
He seemed a little lost. I doubt I’d ever gotten a yes before. He blinked and tried again. «Well, do you think you have something with you now?» Probably, but we found out the answer he wanted was “no,” so we tried and he let us pass.
Did I mention climbing?
I had some great ones today. The guide described them as “stable,” but they were also steep and long. But well marked, which I really appreciated. I could see the road and signs a quarter of a mile away.
Another thing I appreciate about this trail is that we almost always have a wide view. Even on cloudy days we can see a mile or more out to sea. Unlike the AT where long views can be days apart.
I love being able to look down or back along the coast and see where we will be in a few days or where we were last week. There is no long green tunnel here.
Amiga-Llyn-Ness
Llyn’s friendly tolerance toward Americans continued. On a long descent I stopped to ask a couple about their dogs. I assumed they were harriers, but he said they were a rare breed of European dog.
I had been in Phoenix on business and knew a little about Arizona. He was polite. We shared the common path and that was enough. We could be friendly with each other. We didn’t need to look for disagreements. It was refreshing.
Then two women with a mini doodle stopped me to ask me about the next climb. One of them asked me if I had been in Caerfarnon last weekend waiting for a taxi next to the castle. That was a little unsettling, but much better than being questioned about politics. I haven’t been ashamed of the United States for days and I like it.
End of the lands
I reached the end of the peninsula long before lunch. Somehow getting there felt like an end. An achievement. For the first time I felt like our trip was coming to an end. So I found a place with a view of the sea, sheltered from the wind, and sat down to take in everything.
Some sheep came over to help and convinced me that this was a great place for an early lunch. We saw a motorboat ferrying tourists to Bardsey Island, the end of the North Wales pilgrimage route.
Beyond that, it was just the Irish Sea. I always wanted to go to sea. Being so far away, there is no land or light. Just ocean. Perched above Lands End gave me a sense of that, but not enough. Some day.
Smell the barn…in a good way
Thinking too much on a cold, windy morning after a long, sweaty climb left me cold, so I got up and headed back down the other side of the peninsula towards Aberdaron.
It was beautiful, but I was in go mode. I wanted to finish this hike and take a nap. I walked the nine miles in less than three hours, including my lunch break.
I didn’t take a nap, but I spent a lovely afternoon sitting in our room listening to the gentle waves and the laughter of families playing on the beach.
We’re in the home stretch now.
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