Weekends - 2...

The following weekend was a long weekend, with a Bank Holiday on Monday. As such, Nicola and I planned a trip to Wales, which is surprisingly close to where we're living. Barely had the tent dried out from our Cornwall/Devonshire encounter, but we were packing it up again and heading off to Wales.

We left at about 7:00 Friday evening, and it was reasonably smooth sailing (well, driving actually) to get across the bridge to Wales. So far, so good! Nicola happened to be driving and me navigating, which goes against our natural roles. It turns out that we have our natural roles for a reason.

My first mistake was setting the NavMan to take us on the 'shortest possible' route, rather than the 'fastest' one. For Nav, this meant taking us on some roads which hadn't been upgraded since the days of Horse and Cart. It also meant taking a bridge which left about 10cm each side of the wing mirrors, and which Nicola and I stopped before crossing to check whether it was in fact a foot path. Making things more complicated was the fact that there were handrails at the end of the bridge, where the road took a sharp turn to the left. Once this was navigated, with much nervousness, Nav took us on a sharp right-hand turn, which required a three point turn to get around.

However, once through this rather 'hairy' section of road, all was running smoothly again. Until we got to the town nearest to where we were camping, which happened to be in a national park called Cwmcarn. By this stage it was 10:00pm. Being armed with my Navman, Google Maps and a road atlas was seemingly not enough to outweigh my utter and complete lack of ability to read maps. So after a 30 minute diversion driving on roads which were upon later reflection more suited to bicycles, Nicola decided that she would use her more than adequate dose of common sense to take us to where we should be.

Eventually we reached the campsite, where the security guard let us in, speaking in a deep, Welsh English accent. The Welsh language deserves accolades. It has generous doses of consonants and only sparing use of vowels, and those using it still manage to speak without passing out. Amazing.

The next morning, we drove to a semi-ruined abbey (Tintern Abbey), which provided some amazing photo opportunities. We then drove north on the River Wye to the town of Symonds Yat. When I say we went to this town, what I really mean is that we wasted 45 minutes trying to find it (thanks to my map reading skillz). We then hired some canoes and went for a nice paddle, cheating the rain.

We then made our way to our camp for the night, in a place called Pen y Groes. Little did we know that we had descended into the pits of human hell on earth. After setting up our tent, we embarked on our usual trek to find a pub for a drink and some food. Once again, my navigating skills were put to the test as we departed on foot to what Google Maps assured me was a nearby pub. After promising Nicola 7 times that the pub was 'just over this hill', we realised that it did not exist. Fail.

We then found another pub which I rang to verify the fact that it existed. Unfortunately (as it turned out) it did exist. Stumbling upon what appeared to be a ghost town of poorly looking homes with cars and their associated parts strewn hither and thither, we skirted along the deserted streets to find the pub. We found the place after another 25 minute walk, and upon entering I knew that this was only to be a temporary visit. The rotund old woman with the hairy face that provided us with our drinks peered half angrily, half warily at us as she poured the beverages, as the ugly looking youths in the back room played pool while smoking inside.

We sat down nervously and drank our drinks whilst 'Britain's got Talent' blared eerily from a small TV mounted in the top corner of the bar area, whereupon my attention was directed to Christmas decorations not taken down since last Christmas (although on this I wasn't sure; they may have been there since 1993). Next to these were an inflatable dragon and a strange looking thing hanging from the ceiling in a spiral.

Upon further investigation from Nicola, it turns out that this odd looking device was a roll of fly catching tape, which had dead and mummified flies stuck to it from days of yore. It had been there at least since the last summer. Finishing our beverages quickly, we took off as quickly as possible to look for food. I just wanted to go to bed.

We found a fish and chip/Chinese shop up the road, which smelled quite rank. But it would do. All I wanted was a piece of fish and some chips. For Nicola, a sausage roll would do the trick. On our walk home - me eating my fish and chips and Nicola her deep fried sausage roll (I honestly did not know you could do that) - I decided that, being the glass half full person that I am, we had at least been to the worst place on earth and that we would be highly unlikely to stumble upon as an abominable shithole as that place ever again.

The next day we packed up our tent as quickly as we could and drove to Hay on Wye which is known for its 42 bookshops. I did make a couple of small purchases in the form of some vintage Chekhov and Cervantes.

On our drive to our next destination, we decided we'd pull over to the side of the road and climb a mountain (called Pen y Fan) Armed only with the clothes on my back and my camera, we began the trek up the near 900m Mountain. Following this we called into a ruined castle, which was good fun and included a cave we were allowed to go into, used by the castle occupants who needed to escape from attacks.

Because we didn't have much time to get to our camp we decided that we must move rather quickly, which meant we ended up running up and down. The entire trek took us only 1.5-2 hours, and my legs were shaking on the way down. But the view was amazing.

We got to our camp at Saundersfoot in the late afternoon, and we set up our tent before going into the town for dinner. This beachside town was much better than the cesspool we found ourselves in the evening before.

The next day (Monday), we worked our way towards the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path, which we decided not to venture onto after our Mountain trek the previous day. We instead went and lay on the sandy beach and had a nap. After this, we worked our way home via the Gower Peninsula, which featured a nice beach area and another castle.

We followed the same formula upon arriving home as on the previous weekend. 1. Unload the car. 2. Unpack everything and hang out tents/camping gear to dry. 3. Bed.