Category: Long Distance Trails
Reprising a part of the Gritstone Trail
23rd September 2013 There are times in the year when I feel the need to force a break in an attempt to rupture what feels like a headlong rush towards a certain event. Though it's only September and I writing these words, the last month leading towards Christmas is but one of these. Another is in a contrasting part of the year: that leading towards Easter. It's as if the seasons of Lent and Advent see life going in such full swing that you, that there is a strong risk of your rushing right through them inadvertently. As ever, there's little point in rushing either the start or the end of a year anyway.
Last November, I booked in one of those speed bumps, and it came up sunny enough for me to get out and about. My sights weren't raised beyond Cheshire, though, and I fancied seeing more of the nearby countryside than had been the case for a while until then. In fact, the Friday was to see me follow the Gritstone Trail from Bollington to Disley, and this section hadn't been walked by me in entirety since January or February 2003. Then, there were some vestiges of snow and ice on the ground, but it was the lack of visibility that I really remembered, along with a foolhardy episode of taking rubber soled walking boots on ice that I mentioned in a previous entry on here.
Skies may have clouded later in the day, but there was no folly with the choice of morning as I left Bollington. Indeed, it felt more like October than late in November, and looked like it too when I took in the sights of what surrounded me. After record-breaking stretches of wet weather, it momentarily seemed as if some kind of Indian summer had come our way. If it wasn't for my own lethargy, November 2012 could have seen me do better than trips to Tatton Park, a trot along the Macclesfield Canal from Macclesfield itself to Congleton and this hike. That's not to decry what I savoured, since there are times when excuses to stay local can be needed when shining sirens can call from afar.
After leaving a bus to continue on its way from Macclesfield to Stockport, I pottered up Ingersley Road, passed where it became Smithy Brow to meet the Gritstone Trail and followed it into Spuley Lane. To an Irishman unaccustomed to such conventions, such naming of rural roads has its own amazement; until relatively, recently many of those in the Irish Republic hardly merited even a number. It's not often that I stick exclusively with tarmac while walking in the countryside, so the sign showing the way through a field was a welcome thing.
Crossing that field was to get me to gain more height until I met and crossed yet another named lane: Hedge Row. In October 2007, I actually followed this as part of a weekday wander. For some reason, the lure of staying on the Gritstone Trail all the way to Disley was insufficiently strong that day. Was it the later start or a certain heartbreaking outcome to the very reason for which I had taken a day off from work in the first place? November 2012 was devoid of any such feelings as I continued towards Harrop Brook while taking any views towards Nab Head that were being granted to me.
Once across the brook, it was time to continue uphill towards Berristall Hall, where I passed a pond with fowl such as geese around it. The farmyard itself was somewhere that I bypassed through nothing more than sticking with the route of the Gritstone Trail. My surroundings felt familiar, as if I had been there recently. That was something of a memory trick because it was January or February 2005 when I last passed the way on a crisp, chilly day when I was trying out my first ever DSLR. That was on a walk that took a section of the Macclesfield Canal before going cross-country to Pott Shrigley and then heading to Disley via the Gritstone Trail after coming up from the village via a path taking me by Berristall Hall that avoided going through the farmyard at the last moment.
My course last November took me uphill by a wood while I gazed upwards at the trees and across towards Billinge Hill. Its quarries were not on show, either through shadows cast by the low sun or because they away from my line of sight anyway. That non-sighting was not what on my mind, but the similarity to the Rainow of Kerridge Hill definitely was not lost on me either. Leaving trees behind me for a while, I began to cross fields, with Bakestonedale Moor to my left. Sheep were out grazing and stuck with that task instead of being distracted by a passing wanderer. The scene may have looked exclusively pastoral to my eyes but lay a road unhidden in a cleft of the landscape. It was one that I needed to cross, but that was further ahead.
Another wood lay by my path and there was an opportunity for navigational blundering, so care was needed. With no mishaps, I skirted a quarry to pick up a track that appeared to be making a beeline for a farmyard. Though I grew up on a farm and maybe because of it, I have no desire to walk through the farmyards of others, let alone wander aimlessly around one due to a map-reading error. Perhaps, it's the fact that I am outside someone else's back door that does it, so I prefer to pick my way through the countryside without having anyone else staring at me doing so. Though the track passed a dwelling house, the initial sighting was an illusion, and I was on Bakestonedale Road instead, another part of which had been hidden from me earlier. On a return from Lyme Park by bicycle one August day in 2009, I passed its entire length without fitting together the landscape through which I was passing; it can take a walk to do just that.
Turning right onto Bakestonedale Road brought me past the farmyard that I had been seeing. As if to prove that everything takes longer while you are waiting for it, the welcome signpost for the route of the Gritstone Trail over Sponds Hill felt as if it was taking its time to come into my view. When it did so, I was on the cusp of the best part of the hike and of the day. A little height was gained and below was a gash where a hairpin or switchback twist in the B5470 lay, another reminder of the return from Lyme Park in August 2009.
What I was after, though, was something that I had been denied by fog in 2003 and clouding skies in 2005: gazing towards the Derbyshire hills from one of their Cheshire neighbours. This time around, I wasn't to be disappointed as I looked beyond Whaley Bridge towards the sort of places that I rediscovered in April of this year. Here, I am thinking of Kinder Scout and what is found around it. Below me, the Toddbrook Reservoir was picking up the blue of the skies above it.
There was no shortage of vantage points from which to survey what lay to the east while clouds rolled in from the west. There even was some straying away from the right of way to visit the 410 metres trig point on Sponds Hill before I returned to the straight and narrow. Before that, I stopped at the CPRE viewpoint, which has a multitude of landmarks inscribed onto its metal surface. A bright cloudy day ironically might be best for identifying all that's mark on it, since sun-reflected glare could stymie such an attempt.
What gleamed in the near distance was the white house where the Gritstone Trail divides into one route for those going through Lyme Park and another for those going the way at times when access to the park is less certain. It was well clouded by the time that I got that far, yet I was not grumbling as I dropped into Lyme Park. A spot of sun could have been good for some sights, but they can form excuses for returning, and I spotted some alternative route options that make such errands less repetitive. There was one such scene that I had in mind for a photo from an earlier venture, only for this to be scotched on re-examination.
Once down through Knightslow Wood, I sought out a lunching spot, and a place that would be busy in the high season was blissfully unfrequented on a November afternoon. Even with their cafés, the National Trust still offer a covered area with tables and chairs in an old outbuilding for those wanting the DIY food stop. To repay their generosity, though, I patronised their vending machines to add to the sugar going down with my sandwiches. The sun may have appeared and disappeared during my refuelling stop, but I was more than relaxed about that.
Having stopped a while, I got going again to head into Disley. There may have been no sun falling on Cage Hill as I passed it but having savoured it when it was some was a more than sufficient consolation. As the sun grew lower in the sky, it did its best to light what it could as it did so. There were some photographic experiments, even if getting through the East Gate was my priority. Once out through that, I could relax a little more but not so much that I could overlook the declining light, even if I liked the effect of the weak light on the landscape surrounding Bollinhurst Reservoir and the hills to the east of it.
Once past where both routes of the Gritstone Trail rejoined, it was time to pass Bollinhurst Bridge and turn into Green Lane. At the bridge came a surprise because it no longer is open to any traffic, even walkers, you have to use the wooden walkway instead of something that must have been in place for centuries. Taking a mountain bike this way is a less practical option now, if it ever was, given how uneven the track can be.
While the fading light was motivating to keep going as I rounded Bollinhurst Reservoir, there were others seeking to make the most of a day they couldn't use more fully. One lady was making sure of that as I passed her on my way along Green Lane and shared a few words with me, saying as much. A straight track like that can feel long in declining light, so I checked my progress on the map to ward off any pangs of impatience with my legs. As I neared Disley itself after shadowing Higher Disley, what appeared to be a maze of lanes faced me, and I picked my way through these to satisfy myself that I was sticking to an intended route and not getting myself waylaid at the last minute. There was no hiccup, and I had to decide between train and bus travel to start my way home. The latter got my vote this time around, so an uneventful journey home fitted what had been a great day out among Cheshire's eastern hills.
Travel Arrangements:
Bus service 392 to Bollington. Returned home via bus service 199 from Disley to Stockport and a train journey from there back to Macclesfield again.
An archaeological dig
6th June 2013 It's a lovely sunny summer evening as I write this and there have been times when I was out and about in the sunshine during the past few weeks. Last Sunday afternoon saw me trot from the Cat and Fiddle Inn back to my house. Spying a useful right of way that dropped me down from Shining Tor to Lamaload Reservoir was the cause of taking me around there though my hopes of seeing the former in sunshine largely came to not as much as I'd hoped. However, there was sun to be enjoyed while I was around Shining Tor and a peaceful atmosphere pervaded much of the walk so I wasn't embittered. There was no rushing about either as I continued to Rainow and then along Ingersley Vale to Bollington. The Macclesfield Canal and the Middlewood Way were what conveyed me much of the rest of the way home without the itinerary feeling overly long. In fact, I can foresee another wander by Lamaload happening when a chance offers itself.
The previous bank holiday weekend should have seen me do more with it but for fatigue and computer tinkering taking from my resolve. The greatest extent of my outdoors wandering wasn't to be limited to various shopping errands or watching Terry Abraham's The Cairngorms in Winter with Chris Townsend, though. The latter turned out to be a pleasing use of time with there being plenty of stunning countryside to ogle; the quality of the film footage was stunning. While the Cairngorms were the star of this film, Chris got to draw us to the area by tracing his love of wild country. The realities of camping (it includes bothy usage), walking, snowshoeing and skiing in winter mountains got a necessary airing and the featuring of a walk through the Lairig Ghru that was abandoned was no harm either. If that was insufficient, there is a wealth of social outdoors history surrounding the Cairngorms that could have been added too, but the sparing of that probably got us looking at the scenery more closely. After all, that was centre stage in this production and with a stirring soundtrack too. It probably was odd to be enjoying this film with sunny weather outside, and that's how it was, but I was lured out as far as Tegg's Nose on the Sunday evening. Just like a warm summer evening among Scottish hills, it too was quiet and peaceful as I took in the views towards Shutlingsloe on a circuit that took me by Langley and Sutton along paths and tracks that I have travelled a fair few times, so often that I hardly need a map for these any more.
Alongside all of this and midweek evening walks around Macclesfield's Riverside Park, I got the idea of adding more details to photos featured in the site's photo gallery. These include the camera used and the date that the photo was made. The first of these is not too hard to recall, but dates have been the more trickery because there have been times when I have wondered if part of my memory managed to fall into some sort of black hole. The blog certainly has helped from mid-2006 on and the move to digital photography almost nails your dates for you. Before both of those, unless a certain scarcity of trips, coincidence with a memorable event or the imprinting of dates on photos helps. There also is the trawling of old emails (yes, inertia has meant that more of these have been retained than might seem conventional) to see when train tickets were booked and peering at now historical calendars. The last two of these especially have a more archaeological feel to them, hence the title of the post. The fact that dates do not surface without some effort for trips between 2004 and 2006 is a reminder to me that I should be thinking of improving records for the future. After all, you never know what another bout of stress can do to a memory and, like anyone, I have had a share of that in recent years.
The addition of that extra information to the photo gallery continues and some refreshed or new photos are to come online too when all is done. Looking at those older photos has another effect too. When you see a photo and think that it can be improved, then a trip idea emerges. It already has been the cause of retracing some steps in the Peak District and it may be that 2013 could be a year spent exploring more of this alluring part of the world. What has been in my mind for a little while is a potential walk from Edale to Hayfield or Glossop that follows Grindsbrook Clough at the start so as to replace a photo that dates from the Summer bank Holiday Monday of 2001. Hopefully, it can happen before we lose the current run of good weather. There also is walking north along the West Highland Way from Bridge of Orchy, at least as far as Kinlochleven, to see if I can better photos from previous outings along the route of that well trodden trail. With the way life is going for me now, that is a longer-term ambition and it's always good to have them.
Things may be quieter on here these days, but the walking continues and I need to add a number of trip reports, as you can see from the Trip Reports to Come page. What's needed is the summoning of energy and it's hard to commit to scribbling them when sunshine is peering in your window as it is this evening.
Within a landscape of loss
14th April 2013 It's been quiet on here since last February and part of the cause has been a life event. Within the last few weeks, my aged mother passed away after a short illness. There were other underlying medical problems too so we couldn't expect the increasingly frail lady to be around forever. Yet, she went quicker than we would have grown to expect. In fact, it was my father who was of greater concern with his nearly dying on us at the start of January. Miraculously, he came from that but still needs round the clock nursing care. That has placed him in a nursing home and it's not something that he is accepting easily; every so often, we have the pain of him inventing schemes to get away from there and it's very far from being a bad example of the breed. Loneliness, grief and perhaps a certain amount of homesickness may be behind his ever more desperate and worrying suggestions. He cannot live as he did before so it would be great to see him settle where he is.
It's at times like these that a good natter with a friend can mean so much, especially someone who intimately knows a little of the situation that is being faced. Also, there's trotting through the countryside. Most of these are short strolls in nearby parks in Wilmslow and Macclesfield. There is something about purposeful striding that gets stress out of your system (much better than taking it out on someone else anytime) while also allowing a bit of head clearing thinking. Amusing encounters with other folk's dogs lift the spirit too.
There was a longer trot in the sunshine of last Saturday from Hayfield to Glossop via Coldwell Clough, Kinder Reservoir, William Clough and Doctor's Gate. It was the prospect of going through a less peopled countryside that was the cause of drawing me there. There wasn't complete desertion though, even if there was more than plenty of space for everyone. It granted me the long episodes of solitude that allowed for gazing upon the surrounding moorland and dealing with any unevenness in the terrain; the Doctor's Gate footpath was a little tricky due to subsidence and areas of banked snow, but most of my course was less taxing than this, even those snow banks I found higher up William Clough. Mostly, I wasn't concentrating much on where my legs needed to travel and more on enjoying the experience of being out and about, of feeling that not all life comes to a stop when a loved one is lost.
Hopefully, there will be more of those longer outdoor escapades. My mother may wonder at where I went but she loved the outdoors too. Scenic parts of counties Kerry and Cork were particular favourites, but Connemara and Wicklow saw their way into her canon as well. She was the one who most appreciated any souvenir volumes of landscape photos that I ever brought as gifts. The last of these that I ever gave to her came from a trip to the Isle of Man, a gift for Mother's Day. Of special delight to her was the exposure to sea air with many a trip to Irish seaside destinations such as Ballybunion, Beale, Ballyheigue and Banna (all in County Kerry as it happened, and she was a Corkwoman) resulted from this desire. Though I do coastal walking, I have never been a seaside person with my own preferences causing day outings to Gougane Barra and Killarney. In fact, the best ever visit to the latter also had the best weather of a hot sunny Sunday in May 2010. With a decline in my father's well-being, that was our last such trip like that together and its memories are all the more important now.
It is from my parents that I got the hill country bug that has been the cause of so many excursions. Times may be trying now but they also may be the cause of my getting out and about more too. In times past, it may have caused some conflicts of its own, but the head clearing properties of a good walk are more than apt right now.
Back to Pembrokeshire
2nd January 2013 When I first visited Pembrokeshire on the first weekend in June 2006, I had no idea that it would take more than six years to get back there again. Then, I only had been a month blogging, and the terseness of the description of my weekend down there reflects this. Nowadays, my description of the ups and downs encountered between Newgale and St. David's would merit more than a little mention, though perusing the photos from that sunny summer weekend do keep my memories of how steep the drops and rises were very much alive. Similarly, the article that inspired me to go on that first trip still hasn't faded from my mind's eye either, and I might just go looking through past issues of TGO to revisit it again.
Though I only had a long weekend, I got in more than just one stretch of Pembrokeshire's coastline and its national trail. Sunday saw me take in a circular walk around Marloes, with even more rugged cliffs to be savoured. Monday may have been when I went home again, but that didn't preclude a little nibble of what lay around Newport, both the coastline and the Mynydd Preseli hills. It was but a short stop while on route to Ceredigion, but it was memorable nonetheless.
My route home saw me continue to Aberystwyth by bus before going by rail the rest of the way. That had me playing with going to see more of Pembrokeshire by reversing the route to make more again of another possible weekend stay that never came to pass. It might have been the way that I'd have gone last August, but it never entered my mind. Time's passage and my looking for a quick getaway might have had something to do with it.
Like the last time, Haverfordwest became my base and I played with different walking options with practicalities like public transport and weather governing which would be my eventual choice. Only for clouds approaching from that direction according to the weather forecast, I might have taken in the south coast between Manorbier and Bosherston. If there had been time to spend at the former's castle and the latter's lily ponds, it would have been a double bonus, but they'll need to await another visit. The Preseli Hills were another option, but I came to the conclusion that they were an escapade too far for what was a flying visit. That left the west and north-west with my looking at options around St. David's with there being a summer shuttle bus in operation. My eyes even started to follow the coastline up as far as Strumble Head, even though the distance from St. David's is no short undertaking.
While all the above threw up appealing options, I decided to trim my cloth to my measure to settle on a hike from Strumble Head to Fishguard, and it rewarded me copiously too. Of course, it helped that Sunday morning came sunny after a Saturday with plenty of wet moments. Though its situation is imperfect, Haverfordwest's castle ruins still caught my eye and became a target for photographic capture before breakfast and before my departure for Fishguard. To my mind, the photo above could have been taken in May or June, such is the green colour of the surrounding foliage. Maybe the wetness of the year we got meant that the onset of autumn became delayed.
After a little wait, a busy Strumble Shuttle bus conveyed me and others to Strumble Head while others may have gone the whole way to St. David's, a journey of around two hours along narrow country lanes. This would make good use of a day with suspect weather, but it was that of the glorious variety that I was lucky enough to have. There may have been a white cloud approaching in the distant, but its leisurely approach meant that it was no spoilsport while I was around Strumble Head, though it did end the sunny spell early in the afternoon.
Strumble Head's lighthouse is on an island called Ynys Meicel and there is a footbridge across to it. However, this was locked so no one could ramble about the spot. Even so, I went down to the bridge for a look and took in the sight of the narrow channel that it crossed while a dog started barking; apparently, he took exception to the walking poles attached to my rucksack or so his owner said. Leaving that ostensibly odd situation after me, I decided to make my way south along Carreg Onnen Bay before starting in earnest for Fishguard.
As I looked to the south, I fancied that I could discern Carn Llidi near St. David's in the distance. There still is nothing that would convince me otherwise, unless another visit were to see me proven wrong. As I went south along the joint rote of the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path and the Welsh Coast Path, I lost sight of the more distance view, but there was more than enough to keep me busy in the sunshine. The path was narrow enough and others had the same idea as me, some going slower than others. Going south opens up views of the islands of Carreg Onnen and Ynys Onnen, along with keeping that of Ynys Meicel. Those of the coastline by which I was passing were attractive too with their sea-eroded wild ruggedness, and there was no trepidation intruding on the proceedings as I did so.
Because I was planning to go in the other direction, I eventually had to find a southern turning point, despite how glorious it felt. A piece of higher ground in access land near Carn Melyn did the job for me. It allowed one last panoramic view of what lay around before I retraced my steps. By the time that I reached Strumble Head's car park again, there had been a change that couldn't be missed. The approaching bank of white cloud had come much closer and was encroaching on the sun's space, too.
Before there was any more in the way of change, I set to shortening the distance to Fishguard. Given how expansive the eastward views were from there, I stopped for a bit of lunch near Carreg Gybi. Hurrying on ahead of the cloud might seem tempting to me now as I write this, but it had no bearing after what I had got from the day by then. As I was stopped, the sights of the likes of Dinas Head and Cemaes Head were within my line of sight, albeit in the far distance.
To reach those far-off places from my location would have taken several days of walking, so I was happy to enjoy the views and leave it at that. After all, there was plenty of this coastline to pass before I ended up in Fishguard again. Ups and downs lay ahead, yet they were nothing like what I met between Newgale and St. David's. There were to be twists and turns too because of the indented coastline, but I hadn't cut myself short on time and was happy to ease myself along. Each inlet was a marker of progress and there were many, many of which with names. Watercourses and muddy stretches were passed too, and the civilised world felt further than being a kilometre from a public road would suggest.
There were human intrusions aside from other walkers too. For instance, there was the house near Penryhn and the Carreg Goffa Monument commemorating the ill-fated French landing at Carregwastad Point; rough seas, drunkenness and a wily Welshwoman saw off that foreign invasion. The drop into Cwm Felin and the subsequent rise to sweep around Aber Felin may give clues as to why the landing happened there.
Beyond that site of that historical intrigue, the distance to my destination very clearly was receding. The access land of Ciliau Moor lay in surroundings that felt well isolated, even if I were to pass barking dogs just afterwards; they were on the other side of a hedge, thankfully. As my southward turning was approached, I met up with a local man going in the opposite direction who told me about a miniature Giant's Causeway around Anglas Bay that he found for the first time when he got a little lost while out on a then recent walk, though I never did confirm this for myself; my (southern) Irish accent had given me away as it always does.
Once past Crincoed Point, the breakwater of the Stena ferry harbour was growing in view. Earlier, I had seen the same ship coming and going from there, so it would have been much busier than the quiet desolation that I found on my own passing. Before reaching that lower ground, the coastal path was to take me onto tarmac again for the first time since Strumble Head. It would be tempting to think that navigation from there would be a simple matter but, if anything, it was more complex than following the coastal path while away from conurbations. The intricacy was greater than what the map could show, so it was up to signage to point out secluded pathways that dropped me from one road to another, taking me near a hotel at one point. Once over the footbridge across the railway, matters became simpler again. Passing the ferry terminal, I made for the tourist information centre to see what food might be served. However, I instead found my way to a useful public convenience and ended up at the local Tesco. My next stop was a seat in a nearby park to partake of an ice cream before going further.
The final stretch of my wandering made use of the coastal tarmacked walkway around Penyraber. It's a pleasant place to be strolling even without the sun, and seeing Fishguard's older and more sheltered harbour full of pleasure-craft made me wonder what the sight would be like if clouds hadn't filled the sky as it had. There was a bus to be caught for Haverfordwest and that was playing on my mind too, so I didn't dally. In fact, I timed things just right and had a little wait before it came. When en route, another matter of timing was brought to my attention: there was a rain shower around Wolf's Castle and hills to its west, so my hiking had stopped before the rain to get a dry day's walking. The next day came even wetter, so thinking about the blue skies and sunshine was at odds with the soaking I got on the way to Haverfordwest's train station. That won't stop me pondering a return, though.
Travel Arrangements:
Return train journey from Macclesfield to Haverfordwest, changing at Stockport on each way. Return journey on bus service 412 between Haverfordwest and Fishguard. Single journey on Strumble Shuttle (bus service 404) as far as Strumble Head.
Why go elsewhere when there are good things nearby?
9th October 2012 The past few weekends have seen me enjoy walks through some local countryside. For instance, Sunday saw me drop from the Cat and Fiddle Inn into the Goyt Valley before walking along its length as far as Whaley Bridge. Skies may have filled with cloud as I went and much mud may have been encountered, but that reminder from last January while on another walk from the same starting point that landed me in Buxton at its end was set to prove its worth and I wouldn't mind having another hike around there either.
The Saturday of the previous weekend came up sunny too, and I used the afternoon for a walk from Bollington back to my house that took in the Saddle of Kerridge and Tegg's Nose Country Park as I revisited parts that I should frequent more often than I do. In fact, that was a thought that occupied my thoughts as I took in my surroundings. Given that there is so much on my doorstep, I have been wondering about the reason why I am not out there more often.
That may get corrected on the evidence of the Saturday before that again when I followed part of Macclesfield Canal while en route to Lyme Green Retail Park on a shopping errand. A short snippet like that neatly fits into a life with other things that need doing. Little outings often have their uses in getting outside to build up to bigger ones, and that certainly has been happening over the last few weeks.
During that time, thoughts of wandering around Teesdale from Middleton-in-Teesdale has surfaced more than once, only for working week fatigue to put paid to the scheme. The same thing has defeated a trip to Abergavenny to go up and down Sgyrryd Fawr. Another is playing more of a part now as well: local attractions. That's quite a change, given how delights that were further away once blinded me to what lay nearby.
For instance, Sunday offered choices that I struggled to decide between them. One possibility was a walk that took me from the Cat and Fiddle Inn, over Shutlingsloe and then onto home. It was one that would have been my choice but for the sight of cloud advancing from the south. Reprising the Gritstone Trail between Bollington and Disley was another, and there's walking along the Macclesfield Canal between Macclesfield and Congleton in mind too. Then the sun shone and decision needed overcoming to get out the door. The Goyt Valley may have got my vote on the day, but the others remain tempting though and would make ideal walks for shorter days too.
However, that is not to imply that walks have been discounted because the list of trip reports that need writing include a range of destinations: Loch Ericht and Glen Tilt in Scotland, Cumbria's Howgill Fells, the Gower in south Wales and Pembrokeshire in west Wales. Of these, I scarcely have made any mention of those August visits to Wales. The Gower saw me walk from Rhossili to Port Eynon, and it is a hike that I can recommend. On a long deserved return to Pembrokeshire, I sampled part of the coastal path between Strumble Head and Fishguard. Cloud may have filled the skies on both of these - is that becoming something of a feature for me, I wonder? - but the walking was good and that's all that I ever ask.
So, I have some sharing to do and more ideas on places to explore and revisit. The shortness of some of my designs should mean that the shorter days of winter should not be an excuse for hibernation. Getting in (at least) one longer walk every month has become my target, and it seems to be happening so far. It's a habit that I wish to continue.
