Day 4
Aberystwyth to Llanrhystud: 10.5 miles
Curse of the day: The guy who ruined my morning on top of Allt Wen, I intend to make a trip to the Llanychaer Cursing Well with a fistful of pins when I've thought up some juicy curses for you.
Reason: I go hiking to be away from people like you. I would also like to know at what point in my life creepy old guys saying lascivious things to me is going to stop. I thought I was old enough to be well beyond this at this point, but I guess it's just been nearly always having a guy around that stops you from doing it.
Thank you of the day: Literally every single other wonderful person I met on the trail
Reason: You probably didn't know it at the time, but I was plotting murder when we spoke. And yet as I went along, and randomly met more and more of the nicest people ever who just wanted to stop for a chat, I remembered I didn't hate everyone in the world. Just the one guy who bothered me in the morning - and so you helped me enjoy what was actually a beautiful day and a gorgeous hike.
****Expletive Alert for my friends who have children reading this, you may want to choose a different post****
Aberystwyth
Walking out of Aberystwyth in the morning was lovely. The town had that great early morning light on the Promenade (even if east is behind the town), I got to enjoy my own personal Fun With Flags episode by trying to guess them all (they have minority community flags from around the world on the promenade, so along with Wales you can see Catalan, Sardinian, Isle of Man, etc flags) and all in all I was feeling good.
Leaving town I saw the hill I was going to climb - Allt Wen, and was not particularly looking forward to it. Luckily my leg felt more than fine this morning, but P had given me the tent and a few other things I hadn't had with me the first few days, and my pack was definitely heavier.
I also ran into an adorable old man on a bridge whose job I believe is to taunt passersby who look like they might be heading to climb the hill. "Better you than me" he said to me, laughing. I'd like to be that guy when I get old.
All in all, everything was great. Then Jackass McGee ruined my morning.
Seriously? I'm climbing a very steep trail with a giant backpack on. Leave me alone.
The trail up Allt Wen was quite steep. Especially with a rather heavy backpack constantly threatening to shift my balance. But I had 'Livin' on a Prayer' playing on my headphones, and I was motivated. I stopped halfway up because I was wearing waterproofs and a sweatshirt, and I was threatening to soak them through with sweat.
So there I was, and a very nice older gentleman stopped next to me and started chatting. Where he and his group had started on the trail, where I was from, pleasant talk while we both caught our breath.
Then his friend showed up. Interrupting me mid-sentence, he said "We saw you walking up here, and I said the first one who gets up there gets to have that young girl sit on their lap, and don't you know my friend here started running." I think that's what he said anyway, he had a thick English accent of some sort I couldn't 100% understand. His nice friend mumbled something about being 67 and rather past his running days. I glared at him silently as he laughed and said something else I didn't understand.
As the men's wives showed up, they kept on going, and I said I'd sit there a bit more. When they said I'd probably catch them up I said I doubted it, as I'm quite a slow walker. Also, I'm really good at avoiding people and I clearly am going to wait until you've passed on before I go down a trail.
But of course, of course that wasn't it. While I was sitting there I had some time to think about being called a young girl in the first place. Anyway you cut it, that doesn't apply to me. Anyway, I was annoyed, but I would have been fine. I waited a healthy amount of time, and continued on what was turning into a straight up ascent up the hill. At one point I decided I needed to lie down, and really all I did was lean forward.
I was getting close to cresting the hill, and I was seriously struggling with the effort. Then I saw that that group of people was sitting there. The asshat guy looked like he was saying something to me. I stupidly took one of my headphones out of my ear, to hear what he was saying. Because I have that amount of politeness in me anyway.
What he was saying - yelling actually - to a woman who was hand over hand pulling herself up a hill, was something along the lines of 'If you keep on coming up here like that love, I wish I could promise you the kiss you want, but I'm married, and if I were a younger man you'd have it but [something unintelligible that sounded sexist] and [something unintelligible about him not being willing to kiss young men that sounded homophobic].'
My first thought was that if I just leaned back slightly, the weight of the pack would send me crashing down the hill. And that there was a chance that I'd live long enough to whisper my final wish that my headstone should read 'Killed by the Patriarchy' and how satisfying that would be.
Instead I did what I always do, I quietly continued on, sat down near this person, ignored him by playing the Meow Mix song (meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow) in my head every time he spoke (I think this might be why I couldn't understand his full sentence harassing me before, actually) and talked to his wife and the other couple.
They walked on, and I resigned myself to the fact that I would spend the next two hours reliving every time I could remember this happening to me when I was some place I just wanted to be left alone.
I was actually pretty angry. Maybe it doesn't seem like a big deal - but there has always been that guy there, when I wanted to be alone. And in this case, I was struggling up a hill while this guy basically mocked me for no good reason. Because he thought it was funny. By the end of my wandering through the history of every guy whose bothered me for no reason (including a healthy dose of recalling my American Psycho-esque internal monologue whenever this happens), I realized I was at this point peering around bushes to see if this group was in front of me or if they'd moved on.
I saw them twice again, and stopped walking for a long time and had a snack while I waited for them to move. They clearly should have been well in front of me. Then suddenly out of nowhere, up pops the guy whose demise I'm currently plotting, and he's running towards me. So I turn to the right and stare at. . . a small caravan park that happens to be there.
He doesn't seem to notice I have my back to him, and tells me he dropped his glasses. I say I haven't seen them. He keeps talking about whatever, finds his glasses and, with my back still to him, tells me he has a one-time offer to make me. Now, you're bracing yourself for something awful, and don't worry, it wasn't actually awful. What he offered was to carry my pack to the top of the hill for me.
Maybe you think that's nice of him. To me, given he previously suggested I wanted to kiss him and that he had a bet with his friend about who could get to me to have me sit on their lap, I had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn't the kindness of strangers. But he seemed to notice that I smiled, and repeated his one time offer. I said no thank you. What he didn't realize was that the reason I smiled was it occurred to me for a second that if I gave my heavy pack to him to carry, it might just be enough to kill him. Like I said, American Psycho.
But the rest of the walk was stunning
Given the bad taste this guy left in my mouth, it's saying something that I ended up feeling like I had a really good day. After stewing a little longer, I ran across an older lady and we had a chat about how gorse smells like almond blossoms, and how she mistakenly wore her sister's shoes out for a walk the other day. Then I was walking past a beautiful farm overlooking sea cliffs, and a man stopped tilling his small house garden to talk to me about where I was walking to. He clearly just saw me walking past and wanted a chat. We were actually yelling to each other from a long distance across his yard. I'm not sure I've ever had that happen before - the people are just so friendly here (though it does make getting any place quickly difficult).
Then I passed a farm that the guidebook had said was derelict - and I was terribly disappointed to see that people were fixing it up. Happy for them, but disappointed because when I had seen 'pass derelict sea cliff farm' in the guidebook I immediately thought 'where do I sign' - but clearly someone else had beat me to it.
Then I sat down for lunch, and 20 minutes later three gentleman coming the other way sat down and joined me. They'd been walking parts of the path since 2013, and they were almost finished. We had a very nice talk - but the best part was when they found out I was American and from Massachusetts, one of them said, 'Oh, my wife's boss lives in a town outside Boston. It's called Onset.' To which I said 'Did you just say Onset? Seriously?' 'Yes' 'Oh, well yes, that's where my parents live, and where my home address is these days - it's funny because usually people don't know that town, they know Wareham. Wow, that's crazy.'
And the best part was that I realized I didn't for a second think that that coincidence meant they were Russian spies. . . Maybe I'm over being a diplomat!
Then I saw several kites circling the fields, and I walked around the breathtaking Penderi Cliffs. The series of rising and falling green hills, undulating cliffs and stone beaches fronted by an aquamarine sea rivaled the sea views I've seen anywhere else in the world. And even better (despite having run into 5 people on the trail beforehand) there was no. one. here.
So it turns out I love caravan parks
When I finally saw the Llanrhystud caravan park down a valley, I was pretty beat. I also suddenly realized I was sunburnt. So when I stumbled into their reception, I was thrilled that they even allowed campers (though apparently it's pretty common), and more specifically, that they allowed disheveled me in. Laundry, bathrooms with showers, dish cleaning facilities, meticulously cared for caravans with porches, flower beds and sea views - this place had it all. Despite that I've gathered that this type of tourism is looked down upon in some British circles - I'm all in and now want to rent a caravan.
But even better, when I went to set up the only tent in the middle of a bunch of caravans, Alan came over. Alan is Welsh, from inland Pembrokeshire, and he said even when he was in the army 30 years ago he didn't carry a bag as big as mine was. He offered any help I might need, and then we had a lively discussion about Nashville and country music. Considering I know little and less about either of those things, I was pretty proud of myself for keeping up my side of the conversation (though from many years of travelling, I've learned most everyone has an American story they would like to tell their first captive American audience, which role I serve dauntlessly regardless of knowledge of the subject).
Anyway, apparently Alan and his friends are here for a charity Welsh country western night at the 'club' - i.e. the pub and restaurant semi-attached to the caravan park. I went for a cider later, and it was nice - I have to admit, I was really very sorry to have to say that I wouldn't be staying tomorrow. I actually considered staying just for country western night - but I'm going so slow, I really should get on to Aberaeron. . .
