HHH Chapter 22 The Sea! Another country completely.

The Teifi Trail ends at the Estuary and I have now started walking the Welsh Coastal Path, as has another Trek blogger called Jon-fuller. I wonder if we will cross. Last night I had excellent Internet access and had a loving video call with my husband, son, and daughter. There’s a lot to catch up on and it’s great to see your faces. Afterwards I felt quite discouraged, a little nostalgic, a feeling the Welsh call hiraeth, a lovely word that evokes longing and attachment to one’s home. I have begun to wonder how long I can continue, questioning my endurance and strength.

A gloomy beginning

This morning it was so foggy that I couldn’t see the sea, which was to my right, at all. In the distance you could hear the rustling of waves and signs telling of dangerous cliffs and steep paths. Naturally, I followed the advice to follow the marked path, cliffs are scary, especially when you can’t even see where they are. It reminded me of the path in Bunyan’s book The Pilgrims Progress, where the righteous have to adhere to the “straight and narrow.” My mood went up and down and so did the road. Puffing upwards I doubted my strength, on the way down I was disconcerted by very steep rocky sections, where I doubted my balance and worried about tripping over the edge of a cliff. On any even or flat section I felt calmer and more cheerful. As the fog gradually dissipated, the landscape changed dramatically. It was very different from anything I have hiked so far. This cliffside coastal walk is another country all together. Wide open views, no trees, no birdsong, just a few seagulls. In some ways it is less complex, with large blocks of sky, sea and coast. The flowers were pretty and it was disconcerting to look at the sea. I kept my eyes on the road unless I was really still.

Looking down was disconcerting at times.

Slow down, notice the details, find my own rhythm.

There were a few walkers on the path today, all moving much faster than me and jumping lightly over places I found slow and difficult. Slowness is one of the gifts of age. The warm sun and incredible views cheered me up. Tomorrow I will meet a dear friend. We have done many exciting walks together in the past and she will be with me on the last leg of my trip to Wales. Fishguard is only 2 days away which I can’t believe. I have already booked my ticket to Ireland, where there will be many holy wells to explore. At a bend in the road I stopped to have lunch and rest, absorbing the beauty of the landscape. I took my time. Being able to enjoy the scenery and stop has been the glory of this trip. I would like to maintain that feeling of calm and space at home, the feeling that life can be experienced in both contemplation and action.

Where does my journey take me?

To Fishguard and the ferry to Ireland is the easy answer. However, I have been debating the possible Irish and Scottish legs of the trip. In both places the trails are hard, with few accessible places to stay and long stages. I have been learning to push my limits and also respect them. The next two days are long and the coastal path has challenged me with the constant uphill and downhill walking. Will I be able to complete my route to Fishguard? Many decisions need to be made over the next few days and over the next week or so. I reflected on how hard I had to try. So I made this really bad drawing of some rocks to distract my brain. I immediately felt calmer as I began to observe the world instead of trying to manage it. The process of drawing is more important than the result on the page.

My daughter wisely told me “you’re doing this for the fun of it, right?” I think I was regretting how slow I am compared to the past. So does speed matter? For me, joy does not depend at all on speed, but on intensity. So I’ll adapt what I do next to follow that principle. More joy, less speed, stick with what amuses you. I descended gradually to the beach and then climbed steeply up a path to my bed and breakfast, in a comfortable old vicarage. Tomorrow is another day, “your care is enough for the day.”

A little further down the road, where my route would take me inland to reach my bed for the night, I came across this rustic bench. It was the ideal place to look at the coast, enjoy the flowers and leave my mind empty of worries and simply be in the wonderful place I had arrived at.

The bench is dedicated to Susan Fisk and the plaque had the good advice to “rest for a while, enjoy the view, keep traveling.” As on the road, so it is in life.

The signs along the way always invite you to explore the next section.

I descended little by little to the beach, where a river flowed into the sea, with a view of the distant horizon. I then climbed steeply up a path filled with birdsong, to my bed and breakfast in a comfortable old vicarage. Sleeping on my thoughts about next steps will make things clearer.

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