Many of us in the UK are reluctant to take any winter vacations
when it comes to visiting our own shores. Fear of the cold perhaps?
Maybe. In fact, when I was invited to take a six-day break on the
wonderful shores of the Pembrokeshire coast with my friend Mike, at
the end of January, I jumped at the offer. Although it would be
preferred to walk the coast and inlet countryside with the comfort of a
May day warmth, winter walking is actual better for the avid rambler.
There is very little in the way of holidaymakers invading our trek during
their fifteen-minute stroll along our treasured footpaths. How often
have you heard, or been asked the question, “have you booked your
summer holiday yet?”

I have between two and six vacations per year visiting our
excellent countryside, yet I have not taken an actual summer break
since 1990. The reason for this - is that I hate holiday crowds. I cannot
stand a beach full of half-naked city folk sunbathing on the sands like
a colony of dormant ants. My preference is to be somewhat alone;
having almost all the space to myself. Naturally this is not going to
happen, but having my vacations during any period while children are
safely tucked under their classroom desks, is the closest that I will get
when it comes to having a little more privacy when I’m out and about
in the wilds of the United Kingdom. Okay, sometimes I am glad with a
little company at times, just as long as the person, or persons that I
am with, are as appreciative to what the countryside holds as I am.
There are only a couple of people that I am confident with when I am
out in the sticks. One is my brother Rion, and the other is Mike. My
partner, Pam, is not the type of person who enjoys walking more than
a few 100 metres until she needs to return to either the car or the
holiday home. To rely solely on transport at every opportunity is utter
idleness. Most times you do need transport to get to your destination,
and from there you can do your sightseeing and such, and that is fine.
Window viewing the hills and countryside of the likes of Scotland,
Ireland, and in this case, South Wales, is all very well, but being in the
heart of the whole lot is a lot more fun.
The advantage of being with Mike is that he has transport. And as
long as the following few days are incident free we should be
venturing well afar into the pleasantries of Pembrokeshire. This should
be good for the recent depression that has hit me recently, concerning
my unfortunate medical condition, and I do believe that this is a good
opportunity to at least get my mind off it all and to concentrate only on
having a good break.
Mike was bang on late when he picked me up from my home on
the Thursday morning. I said farewell to Pam and wished Birmingham
all the worst. Within thirty minutes we were out of Brum and into the
country lanes of Worcestershire. The great thing about travelling with
mike is that he will avoid motorways at every opportunity, and this
means we will at least get to see almost back-to-back countryside all
the way to South Wales.
Mike had brought along Jake, his Border Collie cross. He lay silent
in the foot well, which was handy for keeping my feet warm. Soon we
were passing the delightful Hay on Wye, Abergavenny, and bypassing
the Brecon Beacons. Mike then informed me that we were staying at
his home in Pontardawe for the night, and that we will go to Pembroke
the following morning. This was good news for me, as I can take one
of my favourite walks alongside the Tawe River and into Pontardawe
Town Centre. The walk takes you through a giant forest before you
alight into the town itself. But when I came to the entrance to the walk
that evening it had a sign advising people that the walkway was
closed. There was a barrier that prevented the local walker from
entering, but I wasn’t a local walker, I was a visiting walker, and so I
guess that I had a right-of-way in this circumstance. Therefore, I took it
upon myself to dip under the barrier and proceed on the trail. Straight
away I was met with gigantic holes on the pathway and also noticed
that construction work was being carried out to make better the
pathway itself. Nevertheless, I just skipped over and dodged by them
and proceeded to make my way along the trail. Soon I was clear of all
life threatening obstacles and treading solid terra firma again.
I needed to get a move on if I was to return from the town centre
via this very same route later. It was 4.00pm and the light was pretty
gloomy. The thick shrubbery around me prevented a lot of needed
light, even without the summer leaves that would make it worse. But it
was very exciting knowing that I may be jumped upon by a small
colony of inbreeding Welsh zombies that hide out here in these very
scary and vast range of woodland bushes. But I managed to filter my
want through the forest without any sort of incident, and soon I was at
Tesco’s buying a few needed food items for the food table, plus an
even much needed hot water bottle.
It was as good as pitch black by 5.00pm when I had finally finished
my shopping spree. Trying to navigate my way back home through the
forest in this darkness would be sheer madness, and surely the
obvious choice would be to take the much quicker lit up road route.
But I didn’t want to get back in a hurry - I wanted a bit more of my
adrenaline to take on the jungles of Pontardawe. But surely only a fool
would try to navigated through a dark forest without the aid of a torch,
or possibly even a weapon. If there were any cannibalistic mongrels
hiding out there in the sticks, what defence would I have against
them? A few harsh words perhaps? I doubt it. But I had the antidote
for fear, and I was already on my second can of Budweiser. Alcohol
always puts aside fear, which can be dangerous at times. But I wasn’t
scaling the heights of a precarious cliff, nor was I in (or out of) control
of a vehicle. No, I was just treading ground with a can of alcoholic
nerve calming gas. I decided to go for it.