Day 146: St Davids to Trefin

I slept well, too well, such that I’m a little late heading off for what is a challenging 21-mile hike through one of the most remote parts of Pembrokeshire. The cliffs are lit up by the gorgeous early morning light. What a difference the weather makes.

A small modern chapel overlooks the ruin of the Chapel of St Non, which marks the birthplace of St David.

“Chee-ow Chee-ow” — the distinctive sound of a chough, heralding a breathtaking view of several small islands on the horizon, just off Ramsey Island, a RSPB nature reserve.

Across the powerful tidal currents of Ramsey Sound, I can see a farmhouse on the island, home to the two wardens, the only human residents. What an interesting life that must be.

Rounding the headland, there is another wonderful view across Whitesands Bay beneath Carn Llidi.

St Davids Head is all moor and rock, as wild a place as any.

The path winds through brown ferns and green gorse, autumn colours spread across the hillside beneath the rocky carns.

A woman is trying to protect a seal pup in a small cove. It needs to rest but is too scared to approach the rocky shore due to barking dogs that appear from time to time, off the leash despite her efforts to signal the owners. The waves simply wash it off the flat rocks at the base of the cliff. Fingers crossed.

Despite the fading light, I can’t resist a small diversion to explore brickworks outside Porthgain.

Dipping through the attractive harbour, a helicopter flies overhead. It’s picking up a lady that I passed earlier, surrounded by rescue workers, as she had fallen and injured her hip.

My headtorch is on when I finally arrive at Trefin village and Camping Wild Wales. The owner, Norman, likes to keep things wild, which means there are no signs. I follow his instructions to walk down a long dark country track. Can this really be the way? There are no lights visible in the distance. Eventually, I reach his farmhouse and a hearty welcome. The site is basic but just what I need, with a lovely sheltered spot to pitch, ringed by trees.

I’m really tired after a tough day, but that has to be one of the finest stretches of the British coastline — magnificent.

Next day

I wake to another wild morning, made worse by a patch of sky visible through a small tear near the ridge of my tent. On closer inspection, there are three small slits. My sleeping bag is also damp as the rain has gradually blown its way in. This is not good. I brought some gaffa tape, wrapped round my hiking poles, following a tip I picked up on a hiking site. Bad advice. It’s lost some of its adhesive quality and won’t stick to the DCF tarp. I pack quickly and head through the rain to a small drying room to take stock.

The weather forecast has deteriorated. My Windy app is not showing a single three-hour period without rain for the next three days, with wind gusts over 50 mph. I could cope if my tent was weatherproof, but the combination is not going to make this much fun. Time to catch a bus to a B&B in Goodwick tonight and head home tomorrow. This coastline is to be enjoyed not endured. I’ll be back!

Walk distance: 21 miles.

Total distance: 2,355 miles.