Day 106
Talsarnau to Harlech: 5.5 miles
Band of the Day: Greenday
Reason: There's something about decades old really loud music that is so out of place in this setting that it really helps me move along!
Lessons Learned
Well, after yesterday's weather debacle today I took a few additional steps to try to make sure I didn't end up curled up shivering in the fetal position at the end of the day again. And no, I didn't buy another pair of waterproofs, nor did I ask P to drive my waterproofs to me (though he offered, I'm still stupidly assuming that since I only have like 40 to 50 miles left I'm sure it will be fine).
What I did was bring a second set of clothes. Because what I learned yesterday is that the problem wasn't actually the hiking in the rain. That was actually kind of fun and I laughed a lot. Even though I couldn't see. But I'm now practically jogging along the path, and because of that I'm pretty warm as long as I'm moving.
But when I stop, like yesterday, I suddenly realize I'm wet, and the wind kicks up and all of a sudden my fingers are yellow and I wonder whether I'm going to die on a bench at a request only station, and whether the conductor would see my prostrate body from far enough away to try to stop the train and help me.
Anyway, to avoid dying at an unpronouncable coastal train platform, I took the serious step of bringing an extra pair of socks, trousers, a tshirt and even my flip flops with me. Because I've always found that if my feet are in wet socks and it's cold, it's frankly better to just be wearing dry socks and flip flops. That way the only thing I'll die of is embarrassment. Or would if I cared in the slightest what I looked like, which, given the fact that my hair has practically become dreadlocks, I clearly don't.
Bad Memories
So the train dropped just me off at Talsarnau (after I notified the conductor I wanted to stop there of course, as it's a request stop) and so I started the day feeling like I had taken my own private chartered train to the trail. I practically started shivering just seeing the platform, and frankly my body is still a little achey.
While it wasn't pouring out, it was off and on drizzling, and when I got to the coast the dirt track was still covered in puddles. So I tried to walk along the embankment, which was at times full of large, naked, smooth rocks - great for navigating in the rain with shoes with no traction. Eventually I just went down to the road for fear that I was going to break an ankle, and was once again amazed by the fact that the bottom half inch of my shoes appear to be entirely waterproof. I feel like they're made of whatever that rubberizing spray is that they sell on infomercials let's you turn a screen window into a watertight boat.
Anyway, it was easy going, and I even got to see a rainbow over Portmeirion. Granted, it would have been a lot better if I had a camera with an actual zoom to take a picture of it with, but at this point, beggars can't be choosers, and I'll always have the memory.
The greyness continued, but unfortunately the waterproofing of my sneakers did not. Or rather, to be fair, I suddenly found myself walking in squishy waterlogged grass that came up over the watertight bottoms of my sneakers. Which immediately made me very glad I'd brought dry socks.
After crossing a small river, I walked past some houses, where I was very glad I hadn't brought my jet ski. Since apparently they are banned, as I learned from reading a giant sign on a house. Also I learned when high tide was - a more important piece of information given the fact that the road I was on tended to flood. After a left turn off of said road, I immediately went the wrong direction, and persisted in going the wrong direction until I returned to a further point on the road I'd previously been on. Rather than simply turn around and start over, I for some reason then went down the road the wrong way. Until it hit a house with an entrance to a caravan park, which, because of the high tide and the lack of a trail, I couldn't get past (legally anyway). So it was at this point that I decided to turn around (I really don't know why I couldn't have just done it earlier!)
After I got back to where I'd gone wrong, with no visible direction besides the initial sign off the road, I just randomly chose a different direction to go, and as it turns out, it was the right one. And I was rewarded for my perserverance when I came upon a church just as it was about to start raining. Little St. Michael's on the Shores by Ynys had a very cozy interior (made all the more cozy by the fact that it was sheltering me from the rain) with charming stained glass windows.
Interestingly, it was historically a sea-farers church, as it was originally built on an island. Which is weird, considering I couldn't actually see the water from here - the church is now on a hill inland. Apparently, the sea started receding from the land in the Middle Ages, and then in the 19th century it was formally kept out and the marshland drained by building sea walls (I'm fairly certain this is different than the draining of the immediate area abound Porthmadog I was talking about yesterday - but I'm not actually 100 per cent sure). In any case the church is now firmly inland - as is the town called Ynys - which, as it means 'island' is a bit strange.
In the graveyard, there's the grave of Mary Evans, who founded a religion based on her claim to be the Bride of Christ. There's also the grave of Lord Harlech, UK Ambassador to the US during the Cuban Missile Crisis (Ted Kennedy and Jackie Onassis attended his funeral here). And to cap it off, there's the pillar with the 12th century inscription memorializing Wledr mother of Hoedliw who first built the church in Owain Gwynedd's time.
After walking down, then up, then around a bit more, I was again on the coastline with views of Portmeirion, and it cleared up enough so I could even see a bit farther down the Llyn Peninsula. Great views even in the grey (would be spectacular views in the blue). The path then went through a farm yard, where I took a wrong turn (although I followed the exact direction the sign was pointing) and I was effectively corralled into a fenced in dead end with mini horses on one side and sheep on the other.
Lost for the second time in one day, I retraced my steps, and soon found myself in a giant field where I couldn't tell whether the animal in the far corner was a bull or not. But I decided to trot along at a decent pace anyway, and hug the wall while maintaining a tension in my legs like a coiled spring in case I needed to jump.
The rest of the walk involved a very straight concrete road, a field with bullocks who started edging toward me, and then views of Harlech Castle getting closer and closer. As I visited Harlech rather early on in my time in Wales, I won't go into the details about it again here - but it still makes an imposing presence, including over the train station where I decided to stop for the day. I'd gotten lost enough times that even this few miles took a while - and the next bit of walk doesn't have any clear breaks in it, so unless I wanted to walk ten more miles today I was stuck.
So I sat on the train platform, with Harlech castle looming over me. And I found out that changing all my clothes to dry ones actually does make a difference. Even if I did have to wear socks and flip flops all the way back to my guesthouse.
