A couple of times I went outside to check on the caravan nearest to me, convinced that I had heard it move and sure it was about to topple on top of me. There was a break in the rain at roughly 6.00am, which encouraged me to leave the confines of the sleeping bag to break camp, hoping that the tent would have dried out slightly. Of course, as soon as I moved my gear outside the rain came back on and I ended up having to run and cram everything in to the small ablutions block to prevent it getting soaked. The tent, unfortunately, did end up wet again and I had to wait over an hour for it to dry enough that I could pack it away. After three nights of very little sleep, I was already tired and brain-addled before I had walked a mile. Fortunately, when I knew the forecast for the week, I had changed my sleeping arrangements for tonight and have a 'Pilgrim's Pod' booked so I should be able to dry things out.
It is cliff-top walking for most of the day, generally at about 20 - 30 thirty metres. However, there are two long climbs; Mynydd Mawr & Mynydd Anelog, in the morning, close together and at about one hundred and fifty metres (nearly five hundred feet), which should offer good viewing opportunities if the mist and rain eases. The weather forecast is for, at best, cloudy and overcast but, optimistic by nature, I live in eternal hope. Although the two climbs are close together, there is an almost full descent between them, the path dropping back down to thirty metres at Porth Llanllawen. After descending from Anelog to Porthorion it is a relatively low rollercoaster ride to my destination at Penralt.
From above Porth Meudwy I had a nice view round the bay to Aberdarron and beyond to the mountain, Mynydd Rhiw. Looking over the two islands of Ynys Gwylan-fawr & bach, I could see a weather system moving in and knew my hopes of at least walking without heavy rain was wishful thinking.
Walking on the clifftop, there was enclosed arable land to my right and lots of nice little bays and coves below me at the bottom of the low cliff. This first section was fairly even and not particularly hard. Heading from the gully to the headland at Pen y Cil this is the start of the walk along the bottom, western end of the Lleyn Peninsula. From Pen y Cil the first climb of the day starts (about one hundred metres), going round the small inlet of Parwyd and on to the shoulder of Trwyn Bychestyn (66 metres).
Going up Pen y Cil there were nice wild flowers to admire, including fine stands of tall, purple lupin. The general landscape was heathland-like, with lots of shrubs and ferns about. The walking was good and on the approaches to Porth Felen & Trwyn Gwyddel, it was a nice, broad grassy path, with the landscape to the front dotted by grazing sheep. The path moves about here as you cross the hillside but, if you have your wits about you it is clearly marked by upright poles. I did not and wandered off course a little, standing looking at a sheep track on the sheer cliff face thinking, 'surely they don't expect me to walk on that'. Eventually, I found it is best to locate the next pole before moving on because the right route was not always immediately obvious to me.
The strength and perhaps the weakness of my 'modus operandi', wherein my trips are all planned ahead of departure, is that I need to complete the daily mileage to stay on schedule. If you don't, you only need to make it up the next day. So whether you are tired or not, if the walk that day is twenty miles then you need to complete it. Ordinarily it is not a problem. Apart from the odd 'bad' day at the beginning of an adventure, once you are walked in it usually goes according to plan. But throw in a run of camping in heavy rain, resulting in three or four days without sleep and you have problems, physical and mental.
From Porth Felen the route crosses a number of small hills and dales until Trwyn Maen Melyn where the first big climb of the day starts to the summit of Mynydd Mawr. From Trwyn Maen Melyn I had a clear view across the waters to the island of Bardsey which was an important pilgrimage destination in the Middle Ages and, for some, still is. The island is sometimes called 'the island of 20,000 saints', owing to the practice of Christians coming to be buried on the island believing it guaranteed them automatic entry in to heaven. St Cadfan is thought to have founded a monastery on the island in the 6th C.
Another tale of the island claims it as the burial site of Merlin the Magician. To the back of the island there is a lighthouse, built in 1821 to guide shipping traffic on St George's Channel. On Trwyn Maen Melyn itself there is a standing stone (sic) that in my tiredness I forgot to look for. The stone apparently marks the position of the feature known as St Mary's Well. The Coflein website, which records the national monuments of Wales, describes it as not an antiquity but a natural, fresh water spring, fed by the rocks around it.
All along this eastern extremity of the Lleyn Peninsula from Pen y Cil onwards, there are numerous Neolithic and other historical remains including standing stones, hut circles and earthworks.
From Porth Iago the route moves on to and round the headland Penrhyn Mawr. Coming off the headland the route passes above the remote beaches of Porth Lefesig (sand) and Porth Widlin (gravel), before commencing a clifftop walk to the small cove of Porth Colmon and Traeth Penllech where there is a smattering of houses and outbuildings. There is a small launch area here for boats but, in the rain, nothing of great interest. I can imagine that in the sunshine either the small isolated cove or the sandy beach would offer a little haven of quiet.
I had phoned three or four days previously and booked one of the huts (Pilgrim's Pod) on the campsite and was now so pleased I had done so. Everything was wet and needed to be dried and the thought of another night under canvass in the rain appalled me. Once I had emptied the rucksack and set things out to dry, I showered, made a warm meal and, with the heater in the hut going full blast, fell asleep on top of the bed.
It is unrealistic to think that every day on an extended expedition is going to be all sunshine and love. There are often contradictions to be negotiated between the internal and the external conditions. Walking long distances on your own in very poor conditions the attention can move from what is externally beautiful to a potentially more desolate internal landscape where lonliness and doubt, weariness and lack of confidence lie in wait to highjack you. At such times it is useful to be able to anchor yourself in the moment and not allow the mind to rampage across the world of your own imaginary insecurities. But when you have a bad day; when there is only one gear and all the bones are aching; when the thought processes don't work and you cannot string two thoughts together, it isn't half joyful to see the day end and to have a proper bed in front of you. Of such small luxuries is happiness made.