Redwick to Chepstow , September 6, 2017

6:10 a.m. departure for bittersweet final day.  Such a strange feeling to know that the finish is just some six hours away.  

No rain for the finale!  

The end of the sheep:

Traffic on the M4 at 8:00 a.m. (Would you believe?)

What are these dogs loving?

Turns out they are crazy for blackberries!

Pseudo Golden Gate, but quite stunning in its own right:

A fish out of water:

And, after walking since June 22 in heavy rain and wind, and occasional sun, with a good mix of ups and downs and flat terrain, and facing a rich variety of challenges, which kept each day interesting, finally entering Chepstow:

Third set of poles that serviced the last stages of the 985 miles from Chester.

  Suzie, apparently, had ordered a band to be playing, but, alas, they never showed up!

 What's next?  No idea.........yet!

Cardiff and Newport to Redwick, Sept. 4+5, 2017

Second rest day, unexciting.  Went to the local Castle that has a number of exhibits and took a "house tour" conducted by a guide who could have easily passed for a robot, and not only was he utterly boring, but he got things wrong, which drives me nuts.  The most impressive part of the castle was the air raid shelter.  Long, very long, narrow, dark corridor furnished only with a bench that ran the length of, oh, some city blocks. Very affecting to walk through that space.

What Cardiff has to offer—an active amusement area near the harbour–is not in my realm of interest, so the city felt bland.  The shopping area is dull; no boutiques or galleries, just lots of shopping centers and a tired, almost shabby indoor market.  The parks are lovely, though.

Art in Bute Park:

The wall surrounding the castle is famous for its carved animals that decorate the top:

Would you believe it was raining on this penultimate walking day?  It was.  Started out on the other side of the Transporter Bridge:

More walking through industrial areas:

If the lights were flashing, you could not cross the little rusty bridge, but the lights were not flashing, so I did cross:

Cows after me again.  (Look at the beady eyes of the one on the right.)  But I won!

Cows uninterested in chasing me:

A horse in semi-hot pursuit:

Sheep not running away, which is unusual, just thinking about running away:

This is a sad tale/tail:  These two little lambies were lying by their very dead as in torn apart maa-maa before my presence made them move away.  (Had I noticed her, I would have walked farther away.) They were so covered with flies and forlorn.  They were not even bleating

Walking along a sea wall when it isn't raining is so much more pleasant than doing the same when it is.  Oh, it had stopped raining by this time:

Cardiff to Newport, Sept 3, 2017

The fifteen-mile walk from Cardiff to Newport wins no prizes for beauty or scenic interest, but it is flat and in the wind a rain, that is not so bad, except when you are walking for miles on top of a dike sort of thing, you really get hit by the wind and feel very much like Jane Eyre or someone who used to go out in blustery rainy weather on the heath or the moors, and they didn't even have proper boots or rain gear or anything, but they just pulled their hooded cloaks close around them and set out with firm purpose to where ever it was they had to go, and you hope a cup of tea is waiting for them at the destination.  

There was industry to see:

I think it may have been a scrap metal yard:

People here add to the urbanscape by throwing their old used things like carpets by the road just like at home:

Guess I am going to miss this gala.  But I found the first shop since Morfa Nefen, way back a long time ago when I smashed the phone, that can repair, while-U-wait, an iPhone 7+ for $120.00.  I will wait until I get home and hope I bought the Applecare plan!

A sad-looking lone horsie in an industrial wasteland:

 Two horsies, one quite small, behind a gate:

Swans never fail to delight.  Here are some in a nature preserve near Newport;

I did this segment today en exchange for a rest day tomorrow so that I might cross the famous Transporter Bridge in Newport, which is open only Wednesday through Sunday from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.  But I worried that the bridge would be closed due to the badness of the weather, and it almost was because guess who was the only person to have crossed it by 12:30 today?

Looking up at the part you walk on.  Why, that might be called "The Span!"

These are the 270 steps you have to climb, and two heavy metal doors you have to shove open to get up to the part you walk on:

And here is how it looks once you are up there:

Going back, if that is your plan, you can take a gondola, so I did, just for fun.  It has room for six cars, but it held just one lone passenger:

I'd love to say something dramatic about walking across this bridge, but since climbing the stairs and walking across the span took only ten minutes, I cannot, except to say I would have hated to miss doing it!  And, when I returned, they were contemplating closing for the day since customers, even for the gondola ride, were, shall we say not showing up. 

Cardiff rest day, Sept 2, 2017

Spent most of the day in the National Gallery of Art in Cardiff.  The art museum and the national history museum are in the same building.  A special exhibit on worms attracted my attention, so I headed there first, only to be disappointed to discover that there were no tanks full of live wriggling creatures to delight and amaze, so went off the see art.

There were three special exhibits.  Gillian Ayres was the main one.

  I took a photo:

because they said at the desk that you could, but apparently you couldn't, so a guard rebuked me very nicely and we ended up having a really interesting conversation.  He told me that a particular set of three paintings (maybe it was four) were owned by a school.  "It must be a very wealthy school," I commented, because God forbid I should withhold comment.  "No," he told me. "The school bought them a long time ago for £100 and apparently they were not appreciated because they were covered over with wall paper.  When the school realized what they had, they removed the paper."  Another very large canvass was rolled up and forgotten about for a long time. When found, it was discovered that a mouse had made its home in it, so the painting had to be repaired.

The works were exhibited in reverse chronological order, but in such a way that when you got to the end, and the earliest work, you then passed through the exhibit the other way, so got to review the later pieces in light of the earlier ones.  It was really effective.

You can see some more of Gillian Ayres' work here:

https://images.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search;_ylt=A0LEViMH9qpZU28AMxcPxQt.;_ylu=X3oDMTByMjB0aG5zBGNvbG8DYmYxBHBvcwMxBHZ0aWQDBHNlYwNzYw--?p=gillian+ayres+art&fr=yhs-adk-adk_sbnt&hspart=adk&hsimp=yhs-adk_sbnt#id=1&iurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.myinterestingfacts.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2014%2F02%2FGillian-Ayres.jpg&action=close

But click on an image to create a slide show 'cause seeing all those paintings together is just a hodgepodge.

One other exhibit I almost did not bother with, but I am so glad I did, was an autobiographic display of Agatha Christie's life in photos.  It was so wonderful!  Because all the commentary was taken from her autobiography, you really felt as if you got to know her, a so sensitive, smart and genuinely honest, lover of life person!  More than an exhibit it was a moving experience.

Ad for a coffee shop:

Barry to Cardiff September 01, 2017

Taxi pick-up at 6:45 at the cute little Hay Loft to ride to Barry whence to start the walk to Cardiff. In the cool, no, make that cold, rainless morning, I was treated to a number of South Wales best four and two lane highways, all of which had sidewalks.  Since it was neither hot nor pouring, who could complain?  What I could complain about were some horrid fields full of thorns, thistles and other growth that had to be crossed, so complain I will since my legs are still stinging.   But it was a flat 16 mile walk, easy....except for those horrid fields.

Navigated my way through the sizeable city of Cardiff to the luxurious B&B/hotel where I am camped out for four nights. Two rest days were scheduled for Cardiff, and then the next stop was supposed to be Newport (unlike the Newport in Rhode Island, this one is not so nice), but since the B&B there never got back to me when I tried to make arrangements for the luggage drop off and the property is up for sale, I thought that maybe they had gone out of business (they have not), so will stay here an extra night and do another of those need-a-taxi-to-the-start-point-after-the-next-stage arrangements that have dominated the walk since Mumbles.  Besides, I have a frig here, there is a modest grocery store a half mile away, the hotel people are very nice, and the shower alone is worth the price of the very big room.

It is always gratifying to learn something:

Stone bench set into stone wall:

Wooden bench with inscription:

modest wooden bench with coastal markers, which could be put to better use in places like horrible fields (see above) to tell you that, yes, you are going to trip on roots and undergrowth, and yes, you have to bushwack your way through, after which you will be picking burrs off your pants and socks for some time, BUT, it is the right way!

Bridge letting boats pass under; pedestrians waiting to cross:

Very Cardiff:

Little boy not eaten by dragon:

Not the silvery silvery silvery Tay, rather the not so silvery Taff:

Swan with attitude:

Gileston to Barry, August 31, 2017

Today's walk was a lot of fun.  Started out cold, wet and grey, in other words, rain jacket and pants weather, but, after a while, suddenly a promising sign:

And it only got better:

Directional challenges again because either there is no signage, or the signage has been sabotaged. After a few wrong decisions (made right again),  encountered a Rambler lady walking her dogs.  (The Ramblers are kind of like the AMC only much more popular throughout the UK.) Anyway, after we chatted briefly, for some reason, I decided to ask her whether there were any tricks on the path ahead.  She thought for a moment and said, "Yes, there is a diversion up ahead due to cliff slippage earlier this year.  What you have to do is go up there (she did point to "up there") and cross two, no, maybe it is three fields, and then you will get to a cut field where you turn right."  I responded, "Oy (maybe not "oy" exactly), could you repeat that for me?" because I was a little bit frantic with these vague instructions.  But guess what this nice Rambler lady named Joy did?  She accompanied me, first to the blocked off, signless diversion so that I could see it con mis propios ojos, and then to that last field where all I had to do was turn right.  This was VERY NICE of her.

Normally, diversions are very well marked because the local counties a) do not want want people falling off cliffs, and b) want you to follow the alternate route.  If these are not well marked, one has no idea which fields you can get into and out of again, or where to turn to get back on the path.  To what can we liken this?  To a detour that has nothing but a road block in front of it, but actually we cannot so liken it, because in a detour situation you can look at your GPS to see where you can reroute, but in nature's paradise, since access and egress and the length of the annoyance are not shown on a map, you could either defy the diversion, climb over the barrier, and risk falling off the cliff, which is exactly what I would have done had the Rambler lady named Joy not miraculously appeared, or you could start saying bad things to yourself.  So there you have it.

Got to Barry at 10:30 a.m., so decided that yes, I would do the optional three-mile tour around Barry Island.  It was lovely and fun.  A blend of honky tonk, sophistication, and beautiful scenery.

After completing the island circuit, I wanted to go to the local Morrisons, a large, upscale grocery store, but how to get there was not so obvious and Google Maps was not working. (I hate it when that happens.)  But, doubtless due to the morning's rainbow, I eventually happened upon the great big store, and oh joy, guess what I saw just inside?  A hot line to a local cab company, so I shopped and cabbed it back to The Hay Loft, where I have been spending the afternoon eating and lazing about.

Southerndown to Gileston, August 30, 2017

6:30 taxi from Porthcawl to Southerndown where the mostly pleasant walk to Gileston began.  The first sight, a surprise, was a walled garden just off the path, but it was so cold, dark grey, and rainy that meandering through garden paths was not enticing, so after a peek inside, the sight remained unseen.

Doesn't this gate say "NYC subway?"

View after walking short, steep treacherous path:

Big field dotted with sheep:

You should know that walking through sheep fields is preferable to walking through cow fields.  There is less poop and the sheep do not stampede toward you.

 A pair of fog horns:

And a functioning lighthouse:

Now this tree limb overhanging the path did no harm because HAT was in backpack due to rain:

This sign was remarkable for existing, the signage today being, shall we say, scant.  But it is hardly inviting or encouraging:

Cliffs:

A fossil!

Enormous field of je ne sais pas..... (turnips?):

These corn plants: straight out of Pharaoh's dream:

It is not at all helpful when someone vandalizes signage:

After enough already of walking on these stones....

I espied this little sign (now righted) pushed into the bushes:

Despite the signage issues, arrived at the Hay Loft in Gileston, a most adorable cottage:

Up these stairs to the loft where the bed is:

Did not take long to get the laundry out to dry:

Was hoping to cook a nice little dinner in the cute little kitchen, but the local "store" had the most miserable selection of food.  It specializes in chips, soda, alcohol, and packaged sweets.  Still, it was nice to eat at a table, with food on a real plate, using proper cutlery.  Rhodri, the owner, said that tomorrow he would drop off a couple of eggs—he has chickens—so there will be an omelette for dinner!