Chance of rain was very high for today, somewhat greater than 200%. Chance for George to be in bad mood if forced to hike was several magnitudes higher. There was a short discussion over breakfast about what we were going to do today: George was leaning toward catching a taxi to Fishguard while we walked the path into town.
We just went ahead and suited up for rain from the getgo. It was windy enough that the extra layer felt good even if it didn’t rain. I noticed George wasn’t suiting up so I guessed he was still planning on skipping forward to give his feet and body an extra day of rest. I thought back to a conversation we had the day before: “Two aspects of hiking, overcome you must, to enlightenment reach. Pain, accept you must. Mental strength, generate you must, to pain and adversity conquer. Only then, spiritual growth, receive you.” I was in a very Yoda state of mind.
George responded: “But master, must there be pain?” Or maybe it was “What the hell are you talking about? Speak English. I’ve accepted that every other step is painful.” Jedi, young, he is not.
With George staying behind to find a ride into Fishguard, we headed out. A light mist started almost right away. The coast around this area is extremely rugged. We noticed a set of stairs cut into the side of the cliff that went all the way down to water level. I could only imagine a medieval landing in the middle of the night with a self-important man landing. We don’t know who carved the stairs or for what reason.
The path leads over Strumble Head (another high rock outcrop with great scrambles and views). From here, we could see the YHA we stayed at last night, the lighthouse further along the shore (that kept shining in my eyes the last two nights) and wild horses running in the area along the cliff tops.
Now that we knew they were actually wild horses, it was more interesting when they let us get close to them. Approaching the light house, we ran into two women just sitting on the cliffs watching the water intently. Jade and Natalie were just down to the coast for a few days and were seal watching. They seemed interested in our plans to hike so much but seemed very content to just walk out to an area and watch nature pass by them.
The lighthouse was next. We couldn’t get out to the island it was on, but there was another WWII bunker not too far up the coast from it. We headed into it to get out of the rain and have a snack. There were a lot of people already in it watching the ocean. It wasn’t until after we left that Karen and Pam told me they were dolphin watching–I thought they were bird watching so I wasn’t paying attention. I guess they were both too distracted to let me know because they had to pee so bad. I was forced to stand guard while they defiled the east end of the bunker.
Almost six miles in for the day, we headed inland to cross a small stream that was slowly eroding a valley in the coast. When we got in the woods, the area was filled with swings. If it hadn’t been so wet, we might have had more nerve to try out a few of them. As it was, I tried sitting on one to serve lunch to the two women (yes, I’m that kind of considerate guy) but I fell off the swing and landed in the mud. Did I get sympathy? No. Did I get thanks? No. Did I get sarcasm and laughs? I think most people understand the heartless women I hike with.
The rain was really coming down now after lunch. The trail was getting muddier with swampy areas developing along the trail. We came up to a long stretch of swamp with stepping stones placed for coordinated people to cross. Once again, I sprinted across to get my camera ready for Pam and Karen to cross. Once again, I was very disappointed that no one did a face splash (it’s only fair, they laughed when I allegedly fell out of the swing–no photo evidence exists).
History lesson time: In 1797, the French were feeling a little disappointed with themselves having helped America get on it’s feet and receiving little thanks. The revolution was over and there weren’t any good wars to keep them engaged, so a portion of the navy decided they needed a new mission. Let’s invade Wales! A short time ago, a boat had crashed along the shores where the French decided to begin their invasion. Unfortunately for the French, the cargo of the ship was rum and they found the cargo upon landing. The local Welsh women (who dressed rather manly if the pictures are accurate) were able to repel the drunken French naval expedition. We hiked to the site of the failed invasion. Pam and Karen reenacted the Welsh women repelling the French.
As we were rounding the point into Fishguard Bay, we managed to lose the trail. We kept to the mantra of “ocean on the left” which cost us less than an extra 1/2 mile before we were able to find the trail again. When we finally made it into Goodwick, we emerged onto the set of a bad sci-fi movie. There were no signs of life or movement in the streets. We could walk by house and see a TV on, but no people inside. It felt like an episode of “Twilight Zone”.
George sent us a text through our InReach that he had found us a hotel in Fishguard. We crossed Goodwick Sands (which is the beach in the harbor) and decided to grab a coffee to warm up while we figured out where the hotel was. We took about a 15 minute break trying to figure out that George was less than 5 minutes away. When we got there, he told us he was watching us with binoculars from the hotel bar wondering why we stopped.
After the long, cold, rainy day, we considered George to be a savior for already having us hotel rooms, and probably the smartest one in the group for skipping the day. We quickly showered and spread everything out in our rooms to dry while we went downstairs to dinner. Yet another early night.
