Day 31: Pentowyn Dunes to Abersoch
The breakfast crowd
We started hearing laughter in the breakfast room almost an hour before the announced opening time of 8:30. I had been awake for hours, as I usually wake up around 4:30.
At home I have breakfast as soon as I wake up. Waiting four hours to take the first seat for breakfast has been difficult. I usually write to avoid thinking about how hungry I am. So when I heard the other guests, I nudged Kate awake and we headed downstairs.
When we walked in, it looked like a western bar scene. Everyone stopped talking and laughing. Did the pianist just stop? I felt them staring at us as we walked to our table.
At the other tables sat four couples who clearly knew each other and were dressed for golf. At last they began to talk, now in low murmurs, with furtive glances at us.
Kate broke the tension with a cheerful «good morning» and then asked, «So, which one of you is the better golfer?» The raucous laughter returned, this time with Kate joining in.
More about beach bars
They didn’t quite understand what “walking the coast path” meant, so they kept offering suggestions about where we should go today. Above all, they said, we should make sure to visit the Ty Coch Inn, “a really good beach bar” on the other side of the peninsula.
I told them we had been there and then asked if they knew why it was the third best beach bar in the world. I got the same answer as the other day: “Well, it’s on the beach.”
When I was not impressed, one of them added that this could only be reached by sailing or walking. You couldn’t drive there. That elicited a nod from everyone. Plus, another added, they serve good beer.
The mention of beer took them in a different direction, asking us if we had been to various pubs across the UK, including one in a cave once frequented by crusaders before they headed to Jerusalem in the Middle Ages. They even came up to our table to show us photos of their favorite pubs on their phones.
I was still stuck on “third best.” Couldn’t you navigate to any beach bar, just because you’re on a beach? This one did not have any type of dock to accommodate the sailors, but it did have a paved access road that we walked along when we left. That, and several vehicles parked behind the bar, seemed to negate the «I can’t drive there» theory.
Nor did «you can get good beer there» make them particularly unique among bars, at least from my understanding of how bars work. But, since I was the only one thinking along these lines, I exclaimed and exclaimed about the bar photos with our new friends. But the basis for “third best” remains a mystery.
alone again
Kate will probably be on an every other day schedule for the rest of our hike to help her manage her leg problems. She also seems to have caught a cold. Today was a day of recovery for her.
As for me, this was the first day of the entire trip that I went out without taking painkillers. My hip is much better, except for an occasional twinge if I rotate it correctly. And I’m over the worst of my chest cold. I feel better, but I sound pretty much the same.
gate of hell
Our semi-bilingual taxi driver dropped me off at Pentowyn Dunes Beach, which I learned is also called «Hell’s Gate.» Presumably not by those trying to attract tourists to the beach.
A sign next to the parking lot said that around 100 boats were wrecked at the bottom of the bay due to hellish winds, tricky rocks and devilish currents. The sign also warned swimmers of dangerous rip currents and monster surf waves.
I believe in the story of shipwrecks, but my eyes told a different story about surf waves. Maybe they should have gone with «third most dangerous place» or «Heck’s Gate». The bay was completely calm. Heavenly, you could say.
No photo means it didn’t happen… but it did happen
I took the dune path through the tall grass and gorse along the top of the beach and came face to face with a beautiful red fox. He paused and stared before disappearing under some gorse growing along a drainage ditch.
Some of my previous wildlife sightings have been met with skepticism by certain family members. The phrase “no photo, it doesn’t happen” may have been thrown at me more than once.
All I can say is that I saw what I saw and there is a photo of a fox below. If it looks like one on the National Trust website, I’m sure it’s purely coincidental.
Climbing on promontories
Today’s walk was basically a big climb over a majestic promontory that separates the deceptively placid gates of hell and harbor from the heavenly valley of Abersoch. It was a tremendous rise and a tremendous fall. In the middle were all the mansions of paradise. Puns and spelling errors are intended.
The views, the views, the views. The clouds. The wind and the sea.
And sailboats, islands and flowers. Breeding bulls and shorn sheep. More cliffs and climbs, each worth a dozen photographs.
And pigs. Pigs? We were offered a lot of bacon, but these were the first pigs I saw. I guess that’s the explanation too.
Grateful
The green pastures. The calm waters. Peaceful roads. Dark valleys. Kindness and mercy. I had everything I wanted. A psalm of thanksgiving and praise arose from deep memories of my childhood as a Covenanter, and I sang it aloud to the gorse and the sheep.
I am so grateful to walk these hills and beaches. What a privilege!
And thanks for reading. I love being able to share it with all of you.
Touring Abersoch with Siri
I came down from the lonely hills to… a golf course. Duffers and electric cars. The trail ran for half a mile between streets. My pace stuttered, interrupted by practice moves, incoming cuts from two directions, and friendly greetings. We carried different poles, but our walks were not ruined.
After a practice green, the path became a footpath through one of Abersoch’s fashionable suburbs. I switched from my slow tracking app to Siri’s familiar voice to guide me left, right, and «slightly right in 200 feet.»
Siri doesn’t do any better than I do with Welsh street names and tells me to turn left onto LO-circumflex-N Guy-dryen (Lon Gwydryn). In fact, he said «circumflex.» I asked him if he was Canadian, but in return I only got an offended silence.
Abersoch
Abersoch is a wealthier town than most we have visited, full of second homes for those escaping for the weekend and summer in England. So, I dodged Jaguars and Audis on its narrow streets, and a better kind of sweaters and scribbles on the sidewalks.
Some call Abersoch the Welsh Riviera, but it seems more of a knock on Wales than a compliment to the town. Like calling a university the “Harvard of Appalachia.” I feel offended on behalf of this nice port city.
We saw more of this type of old fishing village in Pembrokeshire and Cornwall than in North Wales. The new wealth has changed it, no doubt, but it still has enough of the old to maintain its quaint charm.
Evening
Kate was waiting when I arrived at the B&B. She said she felt rested, despite doing some laundry and writing. She says she’ll probably go on a hike tomorrow, so we head out in search of dinner and fuel for the hike.
Also this
Happy Mother’s Day to the wonderful mother of my three children. I rise with them and call her blessed. The best mom, teacher and role model they could have ever had. And a bomber hiker.
