Before setting off in a westward direction, we thought we’d explore the area around Mermaid Quay in Cardiff. We were delighted to see a postage stamp size area of blue sky, but definitely not yet enough to make a pair of sailor’s trousers. But it expanded and we were blessed with a beautiful, sunny and later on, warm day.
Cardiff Bay looked more appealing today: well, we didn’t have to view it through mist. There was a group of male singers to entertain us down on the dock, deliberately performing songs that I couldn’t sing along to. We passed by a guided tour group, and briefly thought about joining, but I think we would have been hampered by the Welsh narration.
We spotted some TV cameras near the Welsh Parliament building, and assumed that wasn’t unusual. Well, today was the day Vaughan Gething resigned as First Minister so there was a lot of coverage on TV. Later in the evening, we failed to spot ourselves wandering around in the background of news reports.
We’re invited to hold the torch and make a wish for peace. Cardiff Bay is historically one of the first multicultural ports in Britain. Many people from across the seas of the world have come here, bringing with them their cultures and histories, their hopes and dreams. Cardiff welcomed them and now welcomes YOU.
Well, thank you very much, we did indeed feel very welcome here in Cardiff.
This memorial commemorates the Heroic Age of Antarctic exploration and in particular Captain Robert Falcon Scott’s Scientific Expedition of 1910-13. The memorial overlooks the point from which Scott’s expedition ship, the SS Terra Nova, left Cardiff on the 15th June 1910.
The memorial overlooks the point from which Scott’s expedition ship, the SS Terra Nova, left Cardiff on the 15th June 1910.
Designed and created by the sculptor Jonathan Williams, the memorial depicts Scott and the faces of his four companions, Wilson, Oates, Bowers and Evans, who died with him on the return journey from the South Pole.
Torchwood‘s HQ is accessible by a secret lift secretly accessible via a paving stone next to the water tower in Roald Dahl Plass plaza. I never knew Roald Dahl was born in Cardiff. So of course, we had to visit the water tower along with many other visitors, fans, pilgrims even.
Barry Island is the setting for another TV series, Gavin and Stacey and as we drove past a road sign pointing in that direction, we thought, why not? It’s not really an island any more, not since the 1880s, but that fact doesn’t detract from the fun we had here in the resort. And the Barryians(?) are very proud of Gavin and Stacey.
Liesel and Leslie had an ice cream but I chose to have that most Welsh of delicacies, a cheese and onion pastie. And we walked the length of the beach along the promenade. The funfair attractions weren’t in operation, so there was no debate about whether or not to have a go on any of the rides.
Nor did we have a go on the climbing wall, but we know Martha and William would love this.
The beach looked very inviting and by now, it was very warm. I’m sure it will be chocker once schools have broken up for the Summer holiday. Today, though, we just came across groups of children from three different schools, and they were all very well behaved.
I do like shop names that are good puns, and to see two so close together in one location, well, it made my day.
I think after our relatively long walk, we could have relaxed here in Barry all afternoon, but we had a bit of a journey ahead of us. Liesel drove us to our next port of call, in Haverfordwest, and I was surprised that our route included a bit more of the M4. We stopped just one more time en route. Our b&b was above a now non-operating launderette and after unloading the car, we had to park a bit further along the road.
We had a wander around town. Let’s just say, it was challenging being incredibly hilly. Again, it reminded us just how flat Northenden is!
There seems to have been an outbreak of yarn-bombing here in Haverfordwest. Many lampposts, fences, pillar boxes, bollards, trees brightly and brilliantly decorated.
And after walking up a long, steep hill back to our b&b, we were all hot and sweaty. Liesel did some work on her laptop and even had a chat with her boss, Amrit. No, of course I wasn’t in the background heckling…
After a rubbish night’s sleep, we drove to St David’s, the main reason for visiting Pembrokeshire at all, really. We explored the cathedral, and the lady who welcomed us there was repeating ‘no entry fee but donations are always welcome’ in such a way that we couldn’t not make a donation.
I admired the organ but I wasn’t allowed to have a go. I just wanted to hear the 32-foot long pipes making a very low note.
We loved eating a pile of Welshcakes for lunch thanks to Mamgu’s little place right next to the Cathedral.
We drove the short distance to St Justinian’s, the idea being to walk along a short segment of the Welsh and Pembrokeshire Coast Path. The views over the sea were of course spectacular and I’m sure some of the many islands we saw don’t even have names.
We found the path and followed it for a mile or so. Two of the reasons I enjoyed this hike were that I never once felt short of breath, my intermittent but chronic and annoying condition, plus, even though we were at times close to the edge of high cliffs, I didn’t have sweaty palms. And I even get sweaty palms even when I see certain views on TV. By now it really was a hot, sunny day, no sign of rain at all.
This lifeboat launched at some point while we out on the path, having walking around a couple of headlands, so we didn’t see nor hear it go out to sea.
We passed many other hikers, and their dogs, on the path and I’m sure some of them were walking a long distance. But I am glad I wasn’t wearing a backpack as heavy as some of theirs looked.
The Pembroke Coast Path is 186 miles in length while the Wales Coast Path is 870 miles in total. Today, I think we managed a bit over a mile before turning round and walking back. Still, it’s a start, maybe 0.11% of the whole.
Another night’s, let’s say, challenging sleep, up in the attic of our b&b above the erstwhile launderette. The place was lovely and comfortable, in a quiet(-ish) area. I say (-ish) because we did hear people walking by and talking late at night, and then we heard the refuse collectors in the morning.
Liesel was still working so I went for a solo jaunt around town. Of course, I smiled at the newly enhanced church gates as I walked by.
And the stone-built houses are very attractive. I wonder if they keep warm and cosy, or are they old and cold and draughty?
‘Seen one river, seen ’em all.’ Well, maybe, but it’s always good to walk beside a waterway for a while. And I’m glad I did because I came across a very good guitar player on the bridge.
Busker, or not? He wasn’t expecting cash from passers-by for his entertainment, he was just promoting his guitar lessons.
And if you haven’t yet been convinced of just how steep some of the roads are in theis lovely town, this is a good example.
It must be great living here, with gorgeous views over the countryside, but I wouldn’t want to have to carry too much shopping up that slope every day.
Today’s excursion took us to Pembroke Castle. And, following our experience with Dyffryn Gardens a few days ago, I double, triple and quadruple checked that I had set Google Maps to take us to the actual, real Pembroke Castle, in Pembroke, and not, say, a pub in Yorkshire named The Pembroke Castle.
We could have hired boats and rowed around the moat, but we didn’t need to risk any interaction with the swans. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it. Instead, we walked up the hill from the car park and wandered around the castle, not joining the official guided tour on this occasion. There’s a lot of history here, including some familiar and a few unfamiliar characters, some familiar historical events and some new to me. Ask me to tell you about the history of Pembroke, Wales, England, the kings, the wars, the battles, and I don’t think I’d be able to give you a coherent story.
Many battles have been fought in this castle and beyond, of course, not forgetting numerous invasions fought off with skilful swordsmen and archers and so on. But the main deterrent to any future incursions must surely be this, the simplest of obstacles.
We climbed a few of the towers, and I was pleased to see that from such high vantage points, you could look down on the whole of Wales.
After lunch in the large courtyard, we bade farewell to the fish in the moat and made our way back to the car.
Our downstairs neighbour at home had recommended a beach in Pembrokeshire, and now was our chance to visit as it’s not too far from Pembroke.
Barafundle Bay is a 20-minute walk from the car park, but the trek is well worth the time and effort. And it’s not until you’re right above the beach that you see it.
The sign said: You may be on your way to the beach for some sunshine, but Wales has been heading north for hundreds of millions of years. The rocks here tell the story of its incredible journey. And don’t worry – we still get plenty of sunshine!
The only sounds we heard were the wind whistling and the sea crashing on ricks below. And even the few sea birds were having a sponsored silence day.
Another thought crossed my mind today, too. The seaside doesn’t smell like the seaside any more, not the same as it did when we were young children. That odd mix of the sea, ozone, fish and chips maybe, it’s just not there any more. Barafundle was no different. Maybe there are just too many other chemical pollutants in the atmosphere.
We sat on the beach for a while watching the water and the people. We should have brought a picnic. And a blanket to sit on: that would have been more comfortable that the scratchy marram(?) grass we plonked ourselves down on. Oh well, we’ll plan better next time.
I walked up and down the beach, spotting only two jellyfish just above the water line. It was approaching high tide, so I suspect the young girl trying to rescue the jellyfish was wasting her time. I’m sure there are days when the beach is much more crowded. Under these circumstances, it must be hard to find your family and friends if you become separated. But they’ve thought of everything here. In the middle of the beach, there is a prominent meeting point in the form of an old, dead tree trunk.
We returned to the car, and back to our place in Haverfordwest. Being our final night here, our evening meal was mainly finishing stuff off. No need to take food back home with us.
In the morning, Liesel and I again discussed our rotten night’s sleep. But, you see, neither of us have slept on a water bed before so it’s been a bit of an adventure. Every time one of us moved, so did the other. It got to the point where we had to issue tsunami warnings whenever we needed to roll over. Or even scratch an itch. So altogether now, to the tune of Split Enz’s Six Months in a Leaky Boat: 🎶 Three Nights in a Water Bed… 🎶 Even climbing on and off was difficult. Why was it so bouncy, we wondered? Because they filled it with spring water, said Liesel.
After packing in the morning, we set the controls for a 5-hour drive home. A long journey, yes, but uneventful. We passed through a town called Bethlehem. And we passed by several opportunities to buy produce. The range eggs were free, but we didn’t stop. We could also have bought potatoes (Pembrokeshire potatoes are the best), straw, fish and chips, oil paintings, interlocking concrete blocks, budgies and more eggs.
The nice open, empty roads gave us beautiful views of the Welsh hills and valleys. Until we gained some altitude, and then we were almost in the clouds.
We stopped for lunch at a great place, Dolwen Valley Café. Liesel and Leslie’s first choice was fish and chips, but they had no fish left. My first choice was the vegan burger, but they’d run out. But, it was a great place, and the staff, well, she was very friendly enough and the coffee was good too. And I had exactly the right amount of chips and salad to keep me going for the rest of the day.
Welcome to England, said the sign, as we entered Shropshire. Seeing raod signs in only one language now seems weird. Shrewsbury was within a short distance, a place where Liesel once fell off her bike, an incident that she’s still trying to blame me for!
This visit to England was short lived, as we found ourselves back over the border, approaching and then bypassing Wrexham. The second time we entered England, there wasn’t even a welcome sign, just a small embarrassed sign telling us this was Cheshire.
Back at home, we unloaded the car, unpacked, and opened our mail box. Guess how many letters were delivered by Royal Mail while we were away for a week? That’s right: zero. Just the way we like it.
And I can’t tell you how much we loved being back in our own bed. So comfortable, relaxing, and… stable. A good night’s sleep was much appreciated by us both.
Mick and Liesel's Antics 