Closing the Anglesey Circuit – The Trek

Day 21: Pentraeth Beach to Beaumaris

The longest day

Yesterday, during our taxi ride back from Pentraeth Beach, our driver, David, told us he wouldn’t be able to pick us up until 10:00am the next morning. He said he would be picked up at Manchester airport in the morning and had just found out the flight was delayed. He was another American coming from Atlanta to walk Angelsey.

David blamed Trump for the delay, but I didn’t understand the connection. Something about the massive security around the airport, although how US policy affects taxi pickups at Manchester Airport remains a mystery. (The assassination attempt had not yet occurred. We delayed these posts for our own safety.) When we didn’t respond, he talked about ticket prices for the upcoming World Cup and some sort of million-dollar fee to attend the games. Once again, it was Trump’s fault. Once again, we didn’t get the connection.

It didn’t matter. We like David and he seems to like us. He has been our driver four or five times since we arrived in Bangor two weeks ago. He has a passable American accent (he believes), having done some NATO and British Army tours in Western Canada and at Fort Huachuca in Arizona. We have enjoyed our walks with him. He shows up on time, is flexible about picking up early, and knows a lot about where to find food along the way. Those things matter to us.

We barely listen to his rants. All we heard was that he couldn’t come pick us up until 10:00. That mattered to us too. It would allow us to get a late start on a high mileage day.

When there is no plan B, opt for plan A

Our program called for 13.5 miles with a big climb. The delay in the start would hurt. We tried to find alternative ways to get to the trailhead sooner, but there were none. Our host’s husband left at dawn in his large vehicle to take his fishing boat to the pier. Our host was cycling around the island with her group of girls. David was the only taxi working in the area on Sunday mornings and he drove a long way from his house across the Bangor Bridge.

Kate began to think that maybe she wouldn’t participate in this. She was tired and didn’t want to rush. But I assured him that since the sun didn’t set until after 9:00 pm, we had plenty of daylight. As long as she thought she had 13.5 miles in the tank, we would be fine. I could set the pace and take breaks whenever I wanted.

As it turned out, David showed up this morning at 9:30, as previously scheduled. He told us that the flight was early after all… because everyone was in a hurry to get out of the United States… because of Trump. HA HA HA.

The walk

Today we completed our Anglesey Island circuit, the second leg of our Welsh Coast Path walk. We finished the day at the Bishopsgate Inn in Beaumaris, where we started twelve days ago.

Our trail followed the north coast to the easternmost point of the island at Traeth Penmon, a short distance from Puffin Island. From there we would make a 180 degree turn and head west across the Menai Strait to Beaumaris. We had a long climb and a lot of asphalt, so we expected to have sore feet, not only from today’s hike but also from 12 straight days of hiking without a day off. This may not seem like much by Appalachian Trail standards, but our feet disagree.

After leaving, we didn’t get further than the end of the parking lot where David dropped us off and we’d already had two «Are you Canadian?» meetings. Fortunately, without political sermons. The second turned out to be a strangely detailed and totally spontaneous review of all the bathroom options on our route. Plus some misinformation about our mileage. The woman promised us that Beaumaris was no more than 11 miles away.

Kate looked hopeful. Although I hated to crush his dreams of a shorter day, I had to warn him not to believe distance estimates from strangers. Whatever the actual mileage is, we would have to walk it.

Walk on the beach

We started with a walk on the sand along the top of the tidal zone. David called it a “clue,” something new to me. Fortunately, the tide was low and the asphalt was dry. And it remained dry, despite some light, intermittent rain (totally unforeseen, 0% chance). Weather in Anglesey.

The path alternated between sections of loose or packed sand, plank walkways, and a long concrete boardwalk. The walk along the boardwalk was new for Kate. I had seen something similar, although much, much shorter, on my walk to Church Bay. The wall was approximately 3 feet high and 1.5 feet wide. For balance, they had built a wooden railing that now covered my multicolored lichens and moss. Nice, but probably not sturdy enough to keep me from falling if I trip and put it to the test.

We walked towards a chorus of birds. We could hear their wild cries, but they remained hidden in the marsh grass beyond the road and the deciduous trees beyond us. After a few kilometers, a wooden staircase took us out of the tidal zone onto a remote, narrow paved road. And a public bathroom! One of the few we had seen within 200 miles along the coast. There he was, in the middle of nowhere, keeping us incident-free.

walk down the road

The road was barely higher than the marsh. Some remote cabins had been built among the trees at the foot of the surrounding hills. Most of them needed some TLC, but their location couldn’t be better for peaceful ocean views. Van enthusiasts had also discovered this remote spot, with a dozen vans camped on the cobblestones across the road. Despite the signs prohibiting camping.

One of the best-maintained buildings was a riding center, where a sign above an arched door proclaimed: «Equestrian Reflections.»

No, not a bow. Two huge mirrors. I wasn’t looking through an arch. The reflections were literal, not metaphorical. If I have horse girl readers, please explain.

Hill walk

At the end of the beach path and after a 100 meter path over a pebble beach, we climbed another set of wooden stairs to a long section of hilly pastures separated by kissing gates. And about 500 feet of constant climbing. With no breeze and humidity facing the ocean, we were a little humid when we peaked, even though it was only 61F. That’s wintry, jacket weather in Phoenix, but we seem to have acclimatised to Wales.

The climb had more than enough flowers, sheep, cows, mud and forests to keep us entertained. And many curves, most of them well signposted.

Walking between the cabins

As we approached the top of the long climb, we moved from the pastures into a semi-residential area with some very nice, well-kept houses. I expected to see farms in what looked like a remote part of the island. I wasn’t expecting the luxurious cabins and estates.

Apparently some of the island’s wealthiest residents live in these hills above Beaumaris. David had pointed out Roger Moore’s old house on our way to the island and had recited the names of other English celebrities who meant nothing to me. It wasn’t Malibu, but many of the properties had nice, manicured lawns and gardens, with large stone, wood or hedge privacy fences.

Despite the narrow, winding roads between the posh houses, the area had a large number of fast cars that had us running into the hedges whenever we heard them approaching.

After beginning our descent towards the end of the island and the Trwyn Du lighthouse, we realized that we had been walking for three hours without a break. And it was also past lunchtime. So, we found a spacious spot along the road near a walled property, sat down, and took out our bag lunch that our B&B host packed for us.

And I realized that I had forgotten to pay him. Oops. I knew she was out riding her bike with friends, so I didn’t call her at the time. But I got a message from him later when he also remembered that he had forgotten to charge us. After we discovered that Wales and the US do not share common electronic payment systems, we were told to send the cash with David, our taxi driver. He was a family friend.

When we sat down, we thought we would just have a snack. David had told us that we would find a nice cafe near the lighthouse, which was just two miles ahead. But somehow, our lunch bags didn’t last as long as our break.

Don’t walk

Two more miles, mostly downhill, took us to the lighthouse and a small cafe on the beach that served pizza, burgers and cold fizzy drinks. I was still hungry so we ate lupper. A pretty decent Hawaiian burger for me and a pepperoni pizza for Kate. We staggered out full, happy and more than a little sleepy.

Another walk down the road

The way back to Beaumaris was mostly a road walk. We passed the historic Penmon Priory with its charming stone buildings, but didn’t have the energy to take a tour. We look out and move on. In a climate with so much rain, salt, wind and vegetation, it is surprising that there is anything left to see after so many centuries. Just beyond the priory, we saw a building digested by vines.

Another walk on the beach

Eventually the trail took us off the road and back into the tidal zone. Just as good. Long stretches of the road had no sidewalks or shoulders, but plenty of fast traffic on its blind curves.

Fortunately, the tide was out again. We made our way across the cobbles to the hard, wet sand and stayed there until the sand was torn away by the highly eroded sea cliffs. Two other pairs of hikers followed our trail but kept their distance. At first we thought one of them was Canterbury. They had started the day a little further down Pentraeth Beach than us and must have been well ahead of us all day. Ellie has also disappeared, no doubt wandering happily, collecting treasures and thoroughly enjoying her walk.

Another path

As we approached Beaumaris, the walkable beach disappeared, so we escaped to the road. Fortunately, it had most of the sidewalk for the remaining miles. We passed huge fenced cow pastures and some very large properties.

And then came the unfinished towers of Beaumaris Castle. And we finish.

Back to the Bishopsgate Hotel

Our host had a room waiting for us. This time, he said, he gave us a “big room” to make up for our last stay in the “small room” with the very low ceiling. The room was definitely bigger. The door, not so much. But it had a large bathtub with hot water jets (which we were warned didn’t work). But the water was hot and the bathtub was deep. The steaming water felt great on our sore feet. We hadn’t seen a bathroom big enough for a bathtub since we left home.

We collide. We don’t write. We barely spoke. We didn’t even go get dinner. Our coffee lupper on the beach was enough.

We fell asleep early, proud to have finished our tour of Anglesey.

Following

Tomorrow we begin the third leg of our journey, a 110 mile walk around the Llyn Peninsula.