Day 28: Tudweiliog to Porth Oer
Plan for the best and prepare for the worst
My cold has gotten worse. If I were at home, I would stay in bed and rest. Kate’s nighttime leg problems kept her from sleeping into the wee hours of the morning. It was a long night and a bleary-eyed morning for both of us.
I used my insomnia to read a few quotes from the blog, but I was so uninspired that I mostly played Hearts on my phone until I finally fell asleep. Kate researched her condition and discovered that symptoms worsen with sustained, intense exercise. Like climbing hills all day.
There’s not much you can do for me besides Tylenol, fluids, and sleep. Or at least two of those, since I’m not going to stop walking around Wales because of a stupid cold.
For Kate, with what she learned, we decided to try going slower (less intensity) and taking more breaks (less sustained). If that doesn’t help right away, you might start skipping the day every other day or just walk half a day and take a bus or taxi for the rest.
If jumping doesn’t work, we will stop walking and take her back to the United States for medical help. She doesn’t think it’ll come to that. If things get that bad, our trip will still be what she calls it every day: «The best vacation of my life.»
Friendly neighbors
It rained all night but stopped during breakfast, following the weather forecast perfectly. As we left Tudweiliog, everyone else in town came out of their homes with dogs and friends for another holiday weekend walk.
We continue to be pleasantly surprised by how friendly the people of Llyn have been. This morning the trail descended into a small valley where eleven caravans had set up in what looked like a semi-permanent cluster not far from a small beach.
An older couple was gardening outside their trailer, which had a low wooden platform in the back with some raised beds. I waved to the woman as we passed and she yelled, «Are you okay?» Kate gave the correct answer (Are you okay?), which started a nice conversation.
They asked about our walk. I asked him what it was like when big storms came out of the water. By then the husband and his little Spaniel had already joined. His family had spent summers in this small glen since 1928. They all knew each other. His son had married one of the neighbors’ sons and waited years for one of the eleven positions to open.
We talked for 30 minutes, counting it as our first break of the day. I set my alarm so I wouldn’t miss anyone else.
Beach wedding
Our next break came when we accidentally missed a turn and ended up on a quiet sandy beach where a young couple was taking wedding photos. If you have friends from the UK who had a traditional Asian wedding on a beach in Wales last weekend, don’t look for us in the background of their photos. We chatted briefly with them between takes, but stayed away from their photographer’s lens.
I took a photo of myself but didn’t get permission to use it, so here’s one of some sheared sheep, the first one we’ve seen.
Living the good life
We were about to stop for our third break, when I realized we were only a quarter mile from a cafe. Since it was a holiday weekend, we took the opportunity of it being open. Was.
Typical hiker lunch, right? I had a lamb empanada, with double chocolate brownie and ice cream. Kate ordered a gluten-free chicken and cranberry panini, with lemon meringue pie. Bad road on the road.
Deviation? What detour?
Our plans got a little out of control after that. We were told to expect two trail detours today, both related to beach erosion. Our instructions said that one shown on the OS map should be ignored because the damage had been repaired. But the other was essential.
We miss you both. I don’t use an OS map. And because the official trail app opens very slowly and is clunky, and eats up phone batteries, I only use it if we can’t find the trail.
We never saw any evidence of the first detour. The second must have been signed incorrectly. We discovered it by walking to a pedestrian bridge with a trail closed sign.
There were no advance warnings. There was no alternative trail description at the closure. No map. No other trace. Then two fishermen came from the other direction, crossed the bridge, waved and continued. When we were in Rome… we also moved on.
The path had not been traveled for some time, except by cows and fishermen, so it was covered with weeds and with holes, which made progress slow. And we had to climb another walkway that had fallen. But the trail was easy enough to follow. We kept the ocean to our right and enjoyed the solitude.
Sheep and sun shelves
The no detour was a bit of extra work and we never knew when it rejoined the «real» trail, but we had a great afternoon. Despite the early forecast of rain all day, the sun came out and stayed out.
At one point, Kate noticed the small stepped ledges on a steep slope and asked about them. Sheep footprints. Grassy hunting trails. In the wind, he thought I had said, «sheep racks.» Why not? Fits.
This coast is so beautiful. We passed sandy beaches and rocky coves. We walked on spectacular cliffs with stunning views of the crystal clear water. We wandered in and out of small valleys with streams, wildflowers and songbirds.
We are truly blessed.
Porto or something like that
Our breaks and openings cost us time. We arrived at the last beach around 4:30, making it by far our last arrival. We hadn’t had cell coverage for the last two hours, so we hadn’t been able to confirm our taxi pickup.
I finally got a coverage bar in the parking lot where our provider had told us to wait. But when the driver answered, neither of them could understand the other’s accent. I think he started in Welsh and I thought he said okay at the end, but I wasn’t sure about anything else.
When I hung up, Kate asked if I was coming. I honestly didn’t know.
Part of the problem was that I was calling the place Porth Oer, which is what our itinerary said. But the driver kept saying another word, or perhaps the same one pronounced so differently that it was unrecognizable to me.
The two maps and the app used different spellings and names for this place. It took me an hour last night comparing the geometry of the coast at each source to convince myself that Porthor, Porth Oer, Traeth Porthor and Whispering Sands were the same beach.
Sources couldn’t even agree on what made the sand hiss. It was either the wind and the geometry of the beach or the uniquely shaped squeaky sand crystals. We had a lot of wind and sand, but no squeaks or whistles.
another long
Kate’s step counter said we had gone 12 miles, but the guide swore it was only nine. My feet coincided with Kate’s phone. We were both done.
As I waited for our ride, fingers crossed that the driver knew where to find us, a car pulled into the parking lot. He stopped next to us and the window rolled down. I thought he might be our driver, so I approached him.
The driver, a middle-aged woman, got out and said: «I don’t have my National Trust permit with me, but I’m a member. Can I still park here?» I was caught off guard and responded, «I’m sorry?»
Which apparently she took as a negative and began to plead her case. I tried to interrupt her, explaining that I wasn’t even a citizen here. I thought the accent would have alerted her, but she was on a roll.
When he finally stopped talking and looked at me for an answer, I smiled widely and responded, «That’s fine with me. I think you should park wherever you want. By the power given to me by the President of the United States, I approve your request.»
That broke his confusion, so I added: «I’m sorry, but I thought you might be my taxi driver. I’m not even a UK citizen. I don’t know anything about the parking rules here.»
She wasn’t amused. If that hadn’t worked, I was prepared to charge him five pounds to park.
Aberdaron
The taxi driver arrived a few minutes later and took us to a lovely inn right on Aberdaron beach. We even got a room with a fantastic view of the almost empty beach and the sea breeze in the windows.
We started our day sick and injured, thinking it might be our last on the trail. We ended up just as sick, more tired, and not knowing what tomorrow would bring. But the trail rewarded our determination to walk another day with joy and blessings.
