Day 5: Porth Eirias to Llandudno
We have a choice
We left The Milverton House, wearing only jackets, no raincoats. Today there is a 65 percent chance of rain. After 9 p.m.
Half an hour into our hike, we stuff our jackets into our backpack as the sun breaks through the fluffy clouds.
We have a choice. Walk on the sidewalk or walk on the beach.
The tide is low. Although we’ll have to trudge through soft, dry, shoe-resistant sand on the way there, the moist, packed sand near the water’s edge looks promising.
Jon tells me to walk as flat as possible on the soft material to minimize the effect of sand in the shoe. I proceed to move forward, feet flat as a duck’s.
We have chosen wisely. The compact sand is both solid and spongy, ideal for hiking.
When you can choose between pavement and beach, choose beach.
The number and type of shells increase the closer we get to the water.
We have seen shells in cities before this. Right on the road or in the middle of the sidewalk. We wondered why until we saw a seagull drop a closed oyster, cockle or mussel shell (alive, oh oh?) from a great height, splitting it open and then swooping down to eat the insides. Fascinating.
But all kinds of projectiles have appeared here. Some are arranged in small groups or small circles, as if a small child had carefully placed them there and then had to leave them there because “we don’t want sand in the house.” Or maybe: «Shells like to live on the beach, love. It’s their home. Now say goodbye! Quietly, because I think they’re sleeping.»
Anyway, I can see and enjoy the children’s art. I wonder what it is in nature and in human nature that makes us want to reproduce the beauty we see.
Waves and sand and water art
I am transfixed by nature’s designs in the sand. The waves have gently sculpted their own images as they hit the beach.
To my delight, I notice that the dividing walls echo this pattern. Wooden waves undulate along the paths.
Nature is restorative and inspiring.
My daughter-in-law, Natalie, is an artist. One of her fabric art creations reminds me a lot of the undulating waves I see. It shifts and changes depending on where I stand in the room and how the light hits it.
Art imitates life, imitates art to infinity. Choose nature. It’s art. Make art.
Lambs and puppies
We went up to “The Little Orme”. Big Orme (hill) to come. Our trail research so far has shown flat line graphs. Now, a peak. I’ve been a little nervous about the extra effort. Climbing feels good. Until now.
Along the path we see bits of white clinging to the flowering yellow gorse bushes. Conditioned by the urban paths we have taken to get here, I think “Oh, plastic shopping bags.” But not. It’s wool.
Sure enough, as I round the bend I see them, with their backs to the ocean, happily perched on a precarious green slope and chewing grass rhythmically, almost in unison. The sheep. His is the wool of the bushes. Did you even feel the thorns tearing it out?
Its wool is dense. Heavy looking. They look like bewildered old women who have put on too many layers and don’t have the skills or common sense to take them off. Or Midwestern kids bundled up on a snowy day, practically motionless.
I stop. I could watch animals all day. Two sheep and two – not three – lambs. To my surprise, a lamb staggers towards me, its large curious eyes intently fixed on me.
I don’t move. It’s getting closer. I take out my phone to record. Maybe this lamb could take care of me all day. I guess I live here now.
To watch my lamb friend, click on the video hyperlink below.
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But soon Mom shuffles forward and they follow. Sigh. I guess I’ll follow it.
We have been told to look for seals and their pups in Angel Bay. We see a path that goes down near the beach.
A temporary barricade blocks access to the trail. A sign reads «STOP: Do not disturb molting seals.» I often think that strange word combinations would give good names to bands. «The dumb seals.» And why do I now have the need to bother molting seals?
I decide to look for «muda» after the walk. I have an idea what moving entails. (It does. Both skin and fur. I think of sheep, shearing, seals, shedding and humans and all the shearing and shedding we do or should do…)
In the cove below there are large grey, beige and speckled rocks lining the water’s edge. Then one moves. Well played, Seals. Smart camouflage.
A sign informs us that the light-colored ones are the puppies. They are not significantly smaller than adults. A seal swims the entire time we watch. What is your problem? (Seal Deal lol) Maybe he’s a rebel or maybe he’s a seal guard, patrolling.
I could watch seals all day. Although they don’t look at me. Sometimes he chooses nature from a respectful distance.
The trail delightfully follows the curving coastline, allowing us to see where we are going and where we have been. Ah, ocean!
Maybe it was all
Today’s walk was short. We were dropped off 6.5 miles from our accommodation in Llandudno and walked back there.
Maybe it was the pre-trip stop at a coffee shop with gluten-free raisin scones and an Americano with real cream. (Milk is usually the only option.)
Maybe it was the animals. Baby animals!
Maybe it was the sea breeze and the ocean views.
It was probably my patient and encouraging husband, who always says yes when I want to stop and chat with furry (wool? fur?) friends. And who took me to a place that I love and that allows me to sleep in a real bed and stop to eat buns.
Maybe it’s all of these. Anyway, today was beyond lovely. Grateful.
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