Day 12
Newport to Goodwick: 13.5 miles
Thank you of the Day: The Youth Hostel Hosts at Pwll Deri
Reason: Not only is this the most beautiful set youth hostel I may have ever been in, you allowed me the run of the place alone in my pajamas this afternoon.
Fastforward to Day 12.5
For anyone who might be wondering 'is she just going to power straight through this walk without taking a day off?' the answer is no. There are a couple of reasons for this. First, the human body, in particular my human body, needs rest. Second, I'm not stuck on a set schedule (I have no place to be), so there's no reason to rush. And thirdly, and possibly most importantly, with the alternation of super-hot and super-wet days, and my not bringing more than three changes of clothing, at times there is a smell and dampness factor where for real I just need to stop somewhere and do laundry.
So at the end of my hike on Day 12, I decided to stop for a rest at the beautifully set hostel in Pwll Deri, which I'd booked in advance because it's a Bank Holiday weekend and I figured if I left it to the last minute everything would be overrun.
So currently it's 2pm, and I'm sitting in the sunny dining area of that hostel, overlooking the fantastic views south towards St. David's, wearing my moose pajama pants and Ps long underwear shirt while I wait for my laundry to dry. I'm entirely by myself, and I can't say I'm not tempted to put on music, slippery socks and then come sliding into the scene singing into a hairbrush and wearing sunglasses.
But I won't. Because I'm an adult. In my pajamas at 2pm in a hostel.
Anyway, travelling life. It's something.
Back to Day 12 - Newport, at high tide
So the first thing I did after getting a coffee at the Newport Spar, and after having had a quick chat with a random guy who happened to come out his front door as I went past, was mistakenly step mid-calf deep into sea water. The tide had come in over night - and the difference between high and low tide here, given how far north we are, is gigantic.
Apparently I'd left at the highest of high tides, because part the path was inundated, and I stupidly followed an Eastern European woman who seemed to walk through with ease. After I had water slosh down into my shoes I suddenly noticed she was wearing very high-ankled walking boots. I was not.
So with one wet foot I pressed forward - and noticed that the water was creeping up everywhere. Apparently waterfront in Newport truly does mean on the water. Many of the cobblestone streets ended in ramps that at the moment were inundated. In one case, the sea path seemed to end at a stone wall T junction, and suddenly the sea rushed in from the right hand side, where a small road ran perpendicular down to the water.
While not particularly practical for rough weather - it certainly was a cute area (I'm actually not entirely sure whether this was Newport or the nearby village of Parrog). Lots of stoned in patio spaces right over the water (that I was surprised weren't flooded), and I also ran across what looked like an old boat house. Charming.
Of course the weather wouldn't cooperate
When we'd been in this area in March we'd done a walk around Dinas Head as recommended to us at the Gwaun Valley Brewery, but as we hit the end of the peninsula (soon to be island with rising sea levels), a giant rain storm came in on us from the sea. So I was hoping the weather would be better this time (and also that I wouldn't end up falling on my face in a patch of thorn bushes this time either).
Well, I succeeded at one of those things.
On the other, I'd noticed when I got halfway to Dinas Head that there seemed to be a hole in the otherwise pervasive cloud cover over Newport, and that this hole was getting smaller and smaller as I went on. Pretty much right when I got to Dinas Head, the black clouds moved in, with the attendant sea fog, and of course, the rain.
So basically I didn't get any better views this time than I did last time. So I'm using the pictures from March here - because the scenery really is grand here - and also because I want to use the caption 'LAMPEDE!!!' again.
Forts to protect Wales from Americans
After the wet drudgery of Dinas Head, I stopped in at the Old Sailors Arms in Pwllgwaelod for a coffee and hopefully to warm up a bit. Really, after I left my coffee, and besides some more ups and downs and charming rock formations (and the fact that it stopped raining), nothing much more of note happened until I got to Fishguard Fort - aka the fort built to protect against Americans, but eventually used (sort of) to protect against the French.
Long story short, after the Boston Tea Party in 1776, the Americans began issuing 'Letters of Marquee' to private ship owners allowing them to attack British vessels and seize their cargoes. There were more than 1700 of these privateers out raiding British ships and ports, and in 1779 one of the best known of these the 'Black Prince' demanded a ransom from Fishguard for a ship it had overtaken. When Fishguard refused, the American ship bombarded the town, causing serious damage.
To prevent further similar attacks, the people of Fishguard built a fort with cannons to defend the harbor. While never used against the Americans, in 1797 during the French revolution, a French vessel tried to land in Fishguard (apparently in an operation intended to cause a Welsh uprising that would divert attention from a French attack of Ireland, then under English rule), and the fort fired a cannon at it.
The French ship retreated - not realizing the entire fort only had 3 rounds available to it. They sailed to a nearby point and offloaded 1400 men, 1000 rifles, and dozens of barrels gunpowder. Meanwhile, a local volunteer militia armed with crude weapons started to march toward the same place, followed by local interested bystanders.
The volunteers quickly dispersed on seeing the size of the French force. But what's funny is that the next day - the French force surrendered at the Royal Oak pub in Fishguard. The story goes that they thought they'd seen British redcoats coming towards them, and that they were up against the full force of the British army. When in reality what they thought were red coats were likely the national costumes (red capes with black stovepipe hats) of the local village women.
One of these ladies - a woman known (enviously as far as I'm concerned) as Jemima Fawr (Big Jemima) decided it was her duty to get a pitchfork and round up and imprison some French troops herself. Apparently she caught a dozen and locked them in a church.
Anyway, you can still find the fort, the cannons that only ever fired one shot, the Royal Oak pub and various memorabilia commemorating the last invasion in Britain, in Fishguard. The last few things are a bit of a hike off of the path - as it goes through the charming seaside lower town, and it does take a bit of effort to get up to the upper part of Fishguard.
But once up there, even in somewhat gritty Fishguard you can find fresh farm-to-table restaurants, a farm green grocer, and a fantastic hipster-worthy specialty food store called the Gourmet Pig that stocks all the local microbrews, cheeses, teas and meats you could ever want.
