After another wild night, I make my way down to Newborough Forest Nature Reserve, set in the dunes.
A sea fret hangs over the trees.
The hardy Corsican pines are resistant to wind and drought.
The trees offer welcome shelter from the strong wind blowing in from the sea.
I’d hoped to visit Llanddwyn Island, but the causeway is already underwater. Not a day to be stranded offshore.
Climbing off the beach, I find a lovely sheltered plateau, ringed by trees but open to the sea. A perfect place to sit and take in the magnificent view.
The weather follows a familiar pattern, with rain hammering down in the afternoon, everything cloaked in mist, so I put my head down and plough on to Aberffraw, before catching a bus back to the campsite.
It’s my lucky day as the model village next to the campsite is open and the cafe serves an all-day cooked breakfast. I’m the only customer and they let me stay for a couple of hours to dry out.
The cafe serves pizza in the evening and the owners invite me to return with my own beer, but once I’m back in the tent, warm in my sleeping bag, with the rain falling, nothing will entice me to put my wet gear back on and crawl outside. The rain pattering on the tarp is soothing and I drift wearily to sleep. I’m up to nine hours a day at the moment, a testament to how my body needs to recover from hiking for long periods in the cold and wet.
Next day
I’m blessed with a fine morning, revealing a wonderful view of the Snowdonia mountains from the campsite field.
Picking up the path again from Aberffraw, there are fine views back across the bay.
The 12th-century St Cwyfan’s Church — the Little Church in the Sea — rests on a small tidal island. Sadly, the door is locked. Why bar entry to such a remote church? Regardless, a lovely spot for breakfast.
My next stop is the Neolithic tomb, Barclodiad y Gawres, housing stones etched with intricate patterns of zig-zags and spirals. As the entrance is fenced-off, I can only take a shot through the bars.
The afternoon consists of a long trek round the Cymyran Strait, which separates Holy Island from Anglesey, following beautiful wind-swept dunes and crossing Four Mile Bridge.
The nearby RAF Valley military base is huge and home to fighter pilot and helicopter training schools. I’m entertained by jets constantly taking off and landing. Others have seen it all before.
The Outdoor Alternative campsite at Rhoscolyn is beautiful, although no one mentioned the training helicopters hovering overhead.
I’m the only one camping — again — and find a patch of higher ground, sheltered from the wind and not sodden.
Jacqui, the owner of the campsite, is cooking for a party of schoolchildren and very kindly feeds me. The chicken dish is delicious, and she fills my pot to the brim, such that I’m not able to finish the chocolate sponge cake — where can I hide it? I’ll sleep soundly tonight.
Walk distance: 33 miles.
Total distance: 2,908 miles.
You are approaching my territory, Trearddur Bay. I would invite you to stay, but, unfortunately, I’m in Spain!
Oh, I did not realise you lived on Holy Island itself. I passed through there on my final two days of this section hike. You are lucky to have such spectacular scenery on your doorstep, such as the South Stack Cliffs Nature Reserve. I really loved that, probably my favourite hike of the week, although it was a very, very wild day.
I know Anglesey well and can imagine what it’s like waking round the coast in that weather. At least you’re not in the Hebrides! I’ll need a full set of waterproofs just to get from my back door into the car!
I look forward to the Hebrides….perhaps in 2025? 🙂