Wednesday, September 27, 2017


Hello to all my regular readers! I know there are a number of you out there.
Thank you for your interest. 
We have recently returned from our third trip to Pembrokeshire this year when we walked 33 miles of the coast from Little Haven to Milford Haven.  There we were defeated by monsoon-like rains, so brought our caravan home to store it for the winter.  We shall return next Spring, when the Summer bus timetable starts up again, to finish the Pembrokeshire coast and move on towards the Gower.  Meanwhile I will try to get this blog up to date over the Winter.
I am just so glad that I can do this coastal walking again after two successful knee replacement operations.  Thank you Mr Balint (my knee surgeon), you have given me back my life!
To all my readers, thank you for your interest in our venture.
PS  Go to  to see what is happening NOW just left of Bognor Pier! (On the website, click on  'Live Webcam')

Friday, April 11, 2014

Walk 353 -- Whistling Sands to Aberdaron

Ages:  Colin was 71 years and 338 days.  Rosemary was 69 years and 115 days.
Weather:  Brilliant sunshine all day.  A slight breeze which disappeared this afternoon.
Location:  Whistling Sands to Aberdaron.
Distance:  8 miles.
Total distance:  3644 miles.
Terrain:  Grassy paths, hardly any mud, very undulating, magnificent views.
Tide:  Mostly out.
Rivers: None.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  Nos.722 to 735 (14 in all) mostly towards the end of the Walk.
Pubs:  ‘Gwesty ty Newyold’ in Aberdaron where we drank Purple Moose ‘Canon Lan’ and Cwrw Llyn ‘Brenin-Enlli’.
‘Cadw’ properties:  None.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  We were staying in our caravan in Snowdonia.  This morning we drove to Aberdaron where again we parked the car up the steep road to save ourselves £9.00!  From there we walked to Whistling Sands along the roads.
At the end we came to our car in Aberdaron.  We dumped our rucksacks, then walked down to the pub in the village.  Returning to the car, we had our tea and biscuits, then drove back to our caravan.

We started today’s Walk in the car park above Whistling Sands Beach where a good quality gravelled path led to the cliff top.  There was a seat partway along, so we sat on it and ate our “guandos” — potato, veg and meat wrapped in a leathery bit of pastry.  (They cost £2 each and weren’t worth it — we shan’t buy them again!)  We were passed by a hiking couple while we were there.  There were fantastic views across Whistling Sands Beach, and wall-to-wall blue sky added to the breathtaking panorama.
When we were able to tear ourselves away, we turned our backs on Whistling Sands and walked south-west on a wide grassy path.  There was hardly any mud, it was much better walking conditions than the last Walk.  The path followed the wiggles of the coast with all it’s spectacular scenery.  A hiking couple came towards us, hikers seemed to be out in force today.  Until today we hadn’t met any other hikers this year — and we didn’t meet any more today!
We saw a wheatear (white-arse!) on a post and both took lots of pictures of it.  In the end I chose one of mine to display — Colin’s not the only one who can take good wildlife pictures!
There were celandines all over the place, and interesting rocks down on the rocky beaches.  After about a mile (or more!) we left adjacent fields behind and began to climb in more open moorland.  It was steep, but it wasn’t too bad and we coped.  The sun beat down and the cold wind of this morning seemed to disappear, so we both stripped off a layer.
We didn’t have to climb right to the top.  As we came round the summit I realised the next bit would be adjacent to fields again,  So, before we got that far, we chose a rock to sit on and eat our sandwiches.  The sky was blue, the views were amazing and there were no man-made sounds — PERFICK!
We carried on steeply downhill, and just as Colin had gone behind a totally inadequate bush — “It’s all right, there’s NOBODY about!” — we heard voices behind us.  It was the same couple whom we had met going the other way to us earlier, they were on their way back.  They were walking much faster than us (because we are old fogies) and we soon lost sight of them again.  Walking was a bit more challenging for the next mile or so, it was very up & down and there was a bit more mud — but not nearly as much as the last Walk.  The views and weather were still fantastic, we couldn’t believe our luck.
From almost sea level we started to climb the next mountain which was higher than ever.  Earlier Colin had seen a coach up there — that’s because there is a viewpoint at the top with a road leading up to a car park.  We thought our peace would be shattered, but when we eventually reached the top there were only a couple of family cars in the car park, and very few people about.  We sat on some rocks to eat our apples — we seemed to be on top of the world!
Far below, in the middle of a seemingly still sea, lay the mysterious Bardsey Island.  It used to be a place of pilgrimage, and was rumoured to contain the bodies of twenty-thousand saints!  (I wonder how they all fitted on that tiny rock?)  Nowadays it is a bird sanctuary.  Nobody lives there permanently, though I believe it is possible to stay there in rather basic accommodation.
A concrete path led us down towards the sea, then concrete steps took us further down to a wide ledge where there were the concrete bases of several buildings.  We guessed they were the remains of a wartime lookout post long since demolished.  The posts with blue arrows on took us down and down and down.  We had wonderful views of Bardsey Island for the next few miles.
When we seemed to be only just above the sea, the arrows pointed us along westwards.  Next we climbed a little to a footbridge over a stream, and were pointed to a narrow path with a sharp dropaway round the western and southern slopes of Mynydd y Gwyddel.  Colin reckoned that the path there was about as dangerous as the landslide path which was closed at Morfa Nefyn (a couple of Walks ago) yet it was the official way.  The path widened out, and we passed between Mynydd y Gwyddel and Trwyn y Gwyddel — we were relieved we didn’t have to climb this last mountain.
We went down to a footbridge and across a field with sheep in it.  Then we were on a wide cliffside path again.  It was obvious that a lot of work had recently been done on this part of the path to make it more user-friendly — for which we were grateful.  We sat on a rock and ate our chocolate.  We noticed a faint rainbow completely round the sun, and later Colin noticed a faint vertical rainbow colouring in the sky.  In my experience, this has always meant a storm was in the offing — certainly it was a little cooler and the visibility had deteriorated.
We continued across open moorland which had recently been cleared of gorse — it was a nice wide path.  We saw a chough on the clifftop, and wonderful geology on a cliff face.  (I wonder what it all means — I ought to know, but I don’t!)  When we reached yet another deep inlet, we were taken steeply uphill inland and then back on ourselves until we reached a gate.  (We thought we had been scuppered when we found there was no gate or stile in the corner of the field where we expected it to be, and realised the only way to go was back on ourselves!)  We went through the gate and across a field.
And there we caught our first sight of the end of our Walk — Aberdaron!  (We always feel better when we can see the end of a Walk.)  But the blue arrows then turned us round and we had to walk directly away from our goal! 
We entered a National Trust property — Pen-y-Cil.  We had to walk downhill towards the “nose” before we picked up a lower path which turned us round and pointed us once more towards Aberdaron.  We had our last views of Bardsey Island before we turned — perhaps we’ll visit it one day and do a bit of bird-watching.
The path was quite good at first, it was fairly flat and wide.  Then it got more undulating, much more narrow, and kept going in and out of the cliffside.  Aberdaron didn’t seem to get any nearer though it felt as if we had walked for miles.  We were getting very tired.
We passed very close to a grazing bull, but he didn’t take any notice of us, thank goodness.  We then passed two entrances to a badger sett, both very close to the path.  The holes were huge — luckily we saw them and didn’t trip.

The path seemed to get more and more narrow, and it was right on the edge.
It also got very undulating with steps in places.
We were tiring rapidly and longing for the end of the Walk where we planned to visit the pub.
But Aberdaron still seemed just as far away.
We noticed a fishing boat just offshore.  Later we came to a cutting where the fishing boats were kept, and the one we had seen was now being towed in by a tractor.  There must have been at least a hundred steps down to the beach, and a hundred up the other side!  There was no other way — how we wished we could fly!
It took us ages to negotiate all those steps — we were very tired by then.  The path was okay for a while, then we came to another cutting with an equal number of steps each side!  This was cruel!  We looked for a way past on the beach, for we were very near Aberdaron by now, but it was impossible — the tide was too far in.
So we laboured up the steps and into Aberdaron.  We came to the car, left our rucksacks and walking poles in the back, and walked down to the pub.

That ended Walk no.353, we shall pick up Walk no.354 next time at the pub in Aberdaron.  It was quarter to seven, so the Walk had taken us eight hours ten minutes.  Returning to the car after our sojourn in the pub — where everyone except us spoke Welsh, even the youngsters — we had our tea and biscuits, then drove back to our caravan.
That was a brilliant Walk, the scenery and the weather were perfect!  But those two gullies right at the end when we were tired was a sting in the tail!  Never mind, we coped!

Tuesday, April 08, 2014

Walk 352 -- Towyn (Tudweiliog) to Whistling Sands

Ages:  Colin was 71 years and 335 days.  Rosemary was 69 years and 112 days.
Weather:  Bright sunshine, but a cold wind.
Location:  Towyn (Tudweiliog) to Whistling Sands.
Distance:  9 miles.
Total distance:  3636 miles.
Terrain:  A little sandy beach, but mainly clifftop paths which were grassy and muddy.  It was slippery, very undulating and badly signed — very challenging walking and I had difficulty in coping.  We got lost, ‘escaped’ through a farm, and then marched a couple of miles of tarmacked lane.  At the end we walked over the squeaking sands of Whistling Sands Bay.
Tide:  Out, coming in.
Rivers: None.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  Nos.710 to 721 (12 in all) on the cliff tops.
Pubs:  None.
‘Cadw’ properties:  None.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  We were staying in our caravan in Snowdonia.  This morning we drove to Aberdaron where we parked the car up a steep road for free because the car park would have cost us nine pounds for the day!  From there we caught a bus to Tudweiliog, where we walked across muddy fields to Towyn.
At the end we got to Whistling Sands where we had had enough!  We failed to find anybody who could give us a lift to Aberdaron, so we route-marched it along the roads — two and a half miles in 55 minutes, not bad for two tired old fogies!  We had our tea and biscuits, then drove back to our caravan.
I felt much more lively today, I don’t know why I felt so lacking in energy yesterday.  It was good to see the sun though it was cold in the wind on the cliff tops.  We really enjoyed the first part of this Walk.  We started at a sandy beach, but there was no way off it at the other end so we had to content ourselves with walking through the mud at the top instead of along the sand.
The terrain was challenging with loads of mud, but we hadn’t washed off yesterday’s so we just added to it on our boots and trousers!  The gullies seemed deeper and the ways out of them more slippery than yesterday, but we coped.  I was really glad I had remembered my walking poles today.  There was a caravan site nestling in one of the gullies, but I wouldn’t have liked to leave my van there — it was too exposed to the elements.
It was very clear today, unlike yesterday.  The scenery was dramatic and wonderful!  Colin said one of the rocks was really an iguana!  Some of the streams running in spate had lost their stepping stones, or they never had them in the first place.  Either way, we managed to overcome the difficulties without filling our boots with water!
As we climbed out of one gully, we were completely out of the wind and it was so beautiful that we sat on rocks and ate our quiches. 
We didn’t want to move from there it was so peaceful, and as soon as we reached the top we were exposed to the elements again.  There were celandines in full flower everywhere we looked, so it really is Spring despite the windy weather.
We made very slow progress.  Eventually we came to a sandy bay which was over a mile long — but we couldn’t see a way down to it until we were halfway along.  There we had a choice of continuing along the top or taking a path down on to the sands.  We hadn’t seen any blue logo signs for ages.  The path along the top was flat, so we chose that.  We came to a fence, and the only gate through it took us down to the lower path — should we have been down there all the time?  There were no signs of any kind to help us.  Another gate led us on to the beach.
We looked at the map and guessed we were just a bit south of a car park.  We concluded we would have to go round a rock on the beach, then climb up again.  It was a lovely sandy beach in the middle of nowhere.  But, because there was a car park, a few people were about playing with their dogs.
We went round the rock and came to a steep track leading upwards.  The trouble was, a stream was running down it and bits were missing!  It was difficult to negotiate, but we got up it.  At the top we came across the first blue coast-path arrows we had seen in a long time, and they were directing us back down the very track we had just come up!  We should have been on the top all the time, and now we had to go back down, round another rock before coming up.  We were furious at the confusing signage.
It was much more difficult going down the broken path — I was terrified of slipping.  We wished we could stay on that lovely beach, but we couldn’t guarantee being able to get off it at the further end.  So we crossed a stream and climbed steps the other side.  I was tired and fed up, and insisted we sat on a grassy knoll for a rest.  I ate just one of my sandwiches, for some reason I didn’t feel very hungry.  We could see a stream falling over quite a nice series of little waterfalls.
We climbed a very steep slope to the top of the cliff —  I needed Colin to haul me up some of the steps, and I wouldn’t have managed it without my poles.  There was a proper seat at the top, the only seat we passed on the whole of the Walk.  When we eventually got to the end of the long bay (up & down, up & down) we found we could have walked the whole way along the beach after all!  We must have wasted at least half an hour not doing that.
We had another couple of miles of clifftop walking to do which took us ages because of all the gullies we had to walk down, then up the other side.  But at least we had half-decent bridges — some very decent — to enable us to get across the streams which were rushing down in spate.
We knew the Coast Path turned inland at one of the gullies and then followed a parallel road for a while.  Each gully we came to I asked, “Is this our gully?” but the blue logos pointed us on to the next one.  We came, at last, to one where the signpost had fallen over so we didn’t know in which direction it had originally been pointing.  “Surely this is our gully!” I said in despair, for I was really quite tired by then.  But a blue logo on the bridge definitely pointed us to go on.
Because of the terrain, it was difficult to see whether there were any paths in any direction.  We followed a ‘sort-of’ path in the direction of the arrow, over a knoll and along quite a way to the next gully.  There were no Coast Path signs or logos to be seen anywhere!  Colin went to the edge of the gully and said there was a bridge down the bottom and a signpost, lurching at an angle, halfway up the other side.  This post had a yellow arrow on it, not the blue coast-path logo.  There was nothing on the bridge.  We carried on, but the path seemed to disintegrate and I was not at all happy.  We needed to go inland and find the road.
I insisted we got out the map again (why is Colin always so reluctant to do this?  Is it a ‘man’ thing?) and realised that the gully with the fallen signpost was our gully!  We were well beyond it where no path is marked on the OS map.  Even Colin had to admit this.  He saw a gate right at the top of the cliff, so we back-tracked and climbed up an almost vertical grassy slope — thank goodness for my walking poles!  By zigzagging we were able to scramble up the landslips, and Colin heaved me up the hardest bits.  At least the gate opened when we got there, so we didn’t have to climb over it.
But our troubles were not over yet.  In front of us was a flat field with a farm in the distance.  We walked inland beside the gully, but at the end of the field there was no way out, just barbed wire fences, and I really feel I am now too old to climb over barbed wire fences!  There was a gate down in the gully, but we couldn’t see a way out once we had got past it.  There seemed to be fences everywhere.  Then Colin noticed that one of the fences beyond the gully was a single strand of plain wire.  So we scrambled down and climbed over the gate which obviously hadn’t been used in years and was completely weeded in.  We climbed the other side of the gully and dipped under the single-strand fence.  We looked around.  I noticed a gate in the opposite diagonal corner of the field we were now in, and had a hunch there was a track on the other side of it.  There was!  The track led us round past the farm and eventually out on to the road.  We had escaped! 
Relief!  According to the OS map, the next 2km of this road was the official coast path, but there were no signs!  We walked it quickly, much more efficiently than the cliff top path, but it was boring!  There was no traffic.  We turned on to a waterlogged track, but we were used to waterlogged paths by now — we both had mud splattered up well above our knees.  We got back to the coast at the top of Whistling Sands.  There we came across the first Coast Path sign in miles — on top of the cliff and pointing in both directions!  Aaarrgh! 
We descended through a rubbish-strewn cutting on to the sands.  There we spent a pleasant twenty minutes or so making the sand squeak under our feet!  There were several landslips on the soft cliffs, some looked quite recent.  We sat on the end of a broken-off road and ate the rest of our lunch though it was now evening.  We idly watched a youth group playing football on the beach, and decided to end our Walk there because it was far too late in the day to walk on to Aberdaron where we had parked our car this morning.  We walked up the road to the car park hoping we could cadge a lift off someone to Aberdaron.
That ended Walk no.352, we shall pick up Walk no.353 next time in Whistling Sands car park at the top of the cliffs.  It was twenty-five past six, so the Walk had taken us eight hours ten minutes.    We had had enough!  The walking had been much tougher than we had anticipated, and I was all in.  We asked the driver of the one and only car parked at Whistling Sands if he could give us a lift to Aberdaron, but he was going the other way.  So we route-marched it along the roads – two and a half miles in 55 minutes, not bad for two tired old fogies!  (We were not passed by a single vehicle going our way, and precious little going the other.)  We had our tea and biscuits, then drove back to our caravan.  
We have decided to break up this Trek into more ‘bite-size’ chunks and have more rest days in between.  Otherwise we pretty soon won’t be enjoying it, and that is the whole point.  We don’t need to go so madly at it, now we’ve finished with Scotland and are much nearer home.

Monday, April 07, 2014

Walk 351 -- Nefyn to Towyn (Tudweiliog)

Ages:  Colin was 71 years and 334 days.  Rosemary was 69 years and 111 days.
Weather:  Persistent rain for the first few hours.  Clearing up this afternoon and eventually turning sunny.  A cold breeze in exposed places.
Location:  Nefyn to Towyn (Tudweiliog).
Distance:  7 miles.
Total distance:  3627 miles.
Terrain:  Some sandy beaches, but mainly grassy clifftop paths.  Undulating and boggy.
Tide:  Out, coming in.
Rivers: None.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  Nos.698 to 709 (12 in all) on the cliff tops after the golf course.
Pubs:  None — the only pub at Morfa Nefyn was closed due to a private function taking place there.
‘Cadw’ properties:  None.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  No.81 on the cliff top because of a landslide.  (We ignored the notices and walked round it, there was only one dodgy bit!)  We ignored no.82 as well, where some steps were a bit washed away — we walked on the beach instead ‘cos the tide was out.
How we got there and back:  Yesterday we towed our caravan from home to a site near Maentwrog in Snowdonia.  This morning we drove to Tudweiliog where we parked the car.  From there we caught a bus to Nefyn, and alighted at the exact spot where we finished the last Walk.
At the end we turned inland through a caravan site at a beach called Towyn.  From there we walked nearly a mile across very muddy fields to Tudweiliog.  We had our tea and biscuits, then drove back to our caravan.

We were both fed up with the awful weather this morning.  It was teeming down with rain, very grey and the visibility was poor.  But we started the Walk anyway, having come so far and set up our caravan.  It meant I took very few photos at the beginning of the Walk because it was too much bother to keep hoicking the camera out of it’s polythene bag and sheltering it under Colin’s umbrella while I took a picture.  I would like to have taken several photos of Nefyn Beach, but we could hardly see it in the mist.
From the bus stop we walked down the road past the War Memorial, then down a steep road to the beach.  The tide was out, so we were able to walk along the beach almost to the little harbour.  We sat under part of a building to eat our pasties, trying desperately to keep out of the rain.
We then took a very steep path with lots of steps up the cliff.  The path along the top was surprisingly sheltered — despite the dreadful weather it wasn’t actually very cold.  We were amused by a seat which supposedly overlooked a view, but it didn’t because the hedges surrounding it had grown too high.  (It was too wet to photograph.)  Colin noticed some unusual bright orange fungi, but it was too wet to photograph that too.
We came to a small headland and decided to walk out to the end of it as it wasn’t too cold.  The views were very misty, so it wasn’t worth it.  The view along Morfa Nefyn beach was much clearer, but I still didn’t photograph it.  We came to a notice telling us there was a diversion because there had been a landslide.  It explained in great detail how to walk inland in a great big loop to avoid the next bit of cliff.  We decided to ignore it because experience has taught us that you can often get by with care, and we could always come back if that was not so.  We came to a high fence blocking off the path, but people before us had beaten a path round the end of it.  We followed.  The path narrowed and was ill-maintained — we wondered if the diversion was just an excuse for not keeping up the path, but we had to take these ‘impure’ thoughts back as we came to a real landslide!
We could just about step round it with extreme care — it was a vertical drop to the beach if we got it wrong, but neither of us were fazed at all.  It looks worse in the photo than it actually was, though I do admit I wouldn’t have gone round it if I’d approached it from the other direction.
The blackthorn alongside the cliff path was in bloom, and looked lovely despite the rain.  Further on we realised we would have to descend to a road at beach level and then climb up the other side — this cleft was not apparent on the map.  The steps down were steep, and the path up the other side was “closed”.  Another landslide?  They didn’t say.  We could probably have got up there without much trouble, but we decided to walk along the flat of the beach instead.
It was really nice to walk along a sandy beach.  The sky brightened and at one time I even had a shadow (of sorts), but it was still raining!  There was a house on stilts built on a rock pile, and we had to get past it before the tide, which was coming in fast, reached the rocks.  We were amazed to learn, a little later, that the only access to this house by vehicle was along the beach at low tide!

 I photographed a car driving along there before we left the beach.  I certainly would not like to live in such a place, how do they cope in winter storms?
We just about made it past the house before the sea started lapping at the rocks in front of it.  Then Colin stopped to photograph sand martin nests in the cliff.
I rushed on to establish whether or not we could get off the beach behind some stilted sheds that we could see at the end of the little bay.  If not, we would have to get back past the stilted house before we were really cut off by the tide.  But I found an archway leading under one of the houses to a road, so we could relax and take our time.  We agreed that neither of us would like to live in any of the houses there — fine in the summer, but too close to the sea in stormy weather.
We went through the archway looking for a place to sit down and eat our sarnies.  But there was nowhere, and it was still raining!  Even the pub was closed because there was a private function going on in there — a funeral party.  Twice we met young men wearing posh suits rushing through the rain from the car park to the pub, no wet-weather gear anywhere to be seen.
We carried on.  After about half a mile we came to a narrow headland and decided to miss it out because the weather was so poor.
We turned on to a golf course and followed the coast as closely as we could.  It wasn’t very clear where the path actually was, but we kept to the very edge of the greens when we came to them.  We came to a teeing-off point where there was a seat at the end.  It was for golfers really, but since no one was about and it had almost stopped raining we made use of it.  The sun was trying very hard to come out while we were sitting there eating our sarnies.
Colin noticed a wooden hut up beyond where we were sitting, and speculated that it could be a toilet.  When we got up there he was delighted to find that it was!  It was for golfers, of course, but we both made use of it — it even had separate sections for ladies and gents.  I was amused by a notice on the wall in the ‘Ladies’ — “Changing the toilet roll does not cause brain damage!”
We exited the golf course through a kissing gate feeling that it had served us well!  The path led down through a marshy area with irises growing up everywhere, even through the slots in a duckboard bridge.
As we ascended a steep slope to the clifftop path, the sun finally succeeded in coming out from behind thick clouds.  The sky cleared and we felt infinitely more cheerful.
The views were fantastic, we could see Holyhead in the distance if we looked back, also Y Eifl, the mountain we had almost climbed on the last Walk back in March.
But the walking was challenging, mostly because of the mud — thick gooey mud which, in many cases, couldn’t be avoided.
There were lots of gullies — steep down and steep up the other side, often slippery as well.  I wished I had brought my walking poles, but I hadn’t.  It took me a long time to negotiate these obstacles.  I felt very stiff, as if I was an old woman!  (No! No! No! I am NOT an old woman!!) 
The way sometimes narrowed between gorse bushes and a barbed wire fence.  Occasionally the path sloped sideways making it very difficult to walk, especially if it was slippery.  Stepping stones had been washed away and streams were in spate.  There were lots of minor landslides — this has been a major problem for the Wales Coast Path because of the excessive rain we have experienced in recent months.  Everywhere is waterlogged.
But the streams, waterfalls and the waves crashing over rocks below the cliff were dramatic in themselves — we found them exciting!  There were celandines everywhere, and the occasional patch of early bluebells.  Views of the bays in the sunshine were magnificent!  All of this made our trials and tribulations worthwhile.
We came across a couple of hooks cemented into the top of the cliff and wondered what they were for.  Presumably to haul things up from the beach far below, or perhaps to let down a boat?
Then we saw seals!  There were several of them in the water eating fish, and poking their heads right out of the water by resting on their tails.  It is frustratingly difficult to photograph seals like this, but we managed a few poor shots.  Two young ones were playing in the surf, and humphed themselves up on to the beach.  I love seals!  It was wonderful to watch them.

Towards the end of our Walk the mud was made worse by sheep and cattle using the paths before us.  I felt extraordinarily tired, as if I had no energy.
I felt fatigued as I used to do occasionally before my under-active thyroid was diagnosed.  But that is sorted now, my levels are normal with the medication I take, so I couldn’t understand why I felt that way.  My legs ached so.  I was really glad to get to Towyn.

That ended Walk no.351, we shall pick up Walk no.352 next time at Towyn where the footpath from Tudweiliog emerges.  It was twenty-five past four, so the Walk had taken us seven hours exactly.  We walked nearly a mile across very muddy fields to Tudweiliog.  We had our tea and biscuits, then drove back to our caravan.