Day 34
Carmarthen to Ferryside: 9 miles
Wizard of the day: Merlin
Reason: Born just outside of Carmarthen, I imagine he spent his entire life really, really annoyed. Why? He was probably just some really super smart guy for the time who spent his whole life face-palming and muttering 'yes, sure, it's magic, god you're all such idiots' every time people were amazed at something he did.
Leaving Carmarthen
To be honest I'd thought I'd spend more time in Carmarthen. I mean, it has a castle, it was Merlin's birthplace, he's in theory buried under a hill here, it's the oldest continuously inhabited city in Wales, it used to be the largest city in Wales, etc. But it being so hot when i got here, combined with there not being much left to the castle, meant I moved on pretty quickly. I mean maybe if Merlin's Oak hadn't been removed - a very old tree in Carmarthen about which Merlin supposedly prophesied 'When Merlin's Oak shall tumble down, Then shall fall Carmarthen Town.' But as it was it seemed like I'd better get going.
It was raining a bit, which was fine with me. I hadn't brought waterproofs with me but after the last few days, I was actually thrilled to be a little cool, and the rain felt nice. Once again, the path followed mostly roads and skirted in and out of fields. There were some really tremendous views of the river after some stiff uphill climbs - but the rain made it difficult to capture in a photo.
So I'm actually supposed to go here?
At one point, after taking a wrong turn about half a mile out of my way, I walked back toward a very cute looking farm looking for a sign I could not find. My guidebook described a turn at a house, and I didn't want to turn into the wrong house.
Finally I found it, it was overgrown, but it was there. Pointing between a farmhouse and its outbuildings, like the book said. I followed the sign straight to a gate, but then there wasn't a further sign. Unlike many of the general rights of way here, the WCP is really, really well signposted, so when occasionally a sign is missing or turned the wrong way it's easy to lose track of where you're supposed to be.
Anyway, I backtracked a bit and re-read the book. I noticed it said go up steps. So I went up steps. I was now firmly in someone's backyard. Crouched next to a tree I read the book again, and it told me to go through a hedge. I looked around and spotted the tiniest sliver of light through a hedge.
But just let me be clear - I was literally in someone's backyard. I was about 15 feet from their back window. I was standing in their garden, between a tree and their children's trampoline. I was wet and probably dirty looking. And when I looked over to the house to see if on the off chance someone was watching me angrily for being in their yard, someone was. Except they weren't angry. They smiled at me and waved, and I smiled and waved, and they walked back out of their living room with a cup of coffee that I could clearly see because I was standing in their backyard, and I walked toward the three inch wide space in the hedge and squeezed out of it into the dirt path beyond.
I know I said this when P and I were taking a navigation class at Plas-y-Brenin, but the way rights of way work here still amazes me. I mean there's a long distance trail literally running through this person's backyard. If they were out back having a bbq you're just supposed to walk on through. I know many farmers probably get mad about interference with their livestock, and some people try to block the rights of way but. . .
Really, at home it wouldn't work like this. Of course, it doesn't have to because even in the congested east, there's still far, far more space for people than there is here. So if you make a trail you don't actually have to put it in someone's backyard.
But the reason I'm mentioning it is that I find it kind of nice. This path has areas where you feel complete isolation, and like you're miles away from anything (like Moylgrove to Newport, but it also has you go straight through Welsh towns. And in some cases, like this, Welsh backyards. So you seem to pass in and out of little snippets of peoples' lives, and actually get a tiny sense of what life is like in this place.
And that's nice for a hike. If I want complete isolation I can join the several million people a year who hike the Appalachian Trail. . . Which when you think about it makes the term 'isolation' seem kind of silly in that context. But in theory you're outside of society by wild camping, so having half of humanity with you at your campsite doesn't count, I guess. Anyway, here, there are definitely busier parts (and I'm sure they're overflowing in August), but there are truly isolated parts, and also parts that feel isolated because you're hiking by yourself - but you're actually among other people because you're in a small town.
I'm not entirely sure what I'm getting at here, but I guess I've just travelled and walked and explored enough in my life to appreciate the novelty of being able to hike through someone's backyard, and have them smile and wave at me. Because, I assume, I'm not the thousandth person to have walked through today.
This fact of being relatively in solitude was nowhere more in evidence than when I finally got to Ferryside, where to leave I had to hail. a. train. If you don't flag the train down, it doesn't stop, because the station doesn't merit a full-blown required stop. So it was kind of like hailing a taxi. Except that it was a train.
So yeah, as I was saying - isolated. Even this close to Swansea.
