Penrhos to New Quay July 29, 2017

What is it about boats in a harbour that is so appealing?  

After yesterday's hellish nine hour walk in the pouring rain and whipping wind, today's at only 17 miles on a grey but rainless (though it did threaten) day was a trifle.  It did have challenges of a different sort.  Right at the beginning, it was not clear wether to walk on top of a huge pile of stones along the beach or through a field alongside.  First I tried some of one and then the other.  Neither seemed right.  Finally I opted for the stones and felt quite proud of myself when I saw that there was no exit from the abandoned field.  Pride doth cometh before the fall because I could not figure out where to escape the miserable stones. The path was weaving around elsewhere, and I had to meet it.  I came to a swiftly flowing river.  I swear it was a river and it could not be crossed.  Espying a bridge, I climbed some cliffs—don't ask how—then trespassed (not the first time) climbing over a metal gate, one of those huge ones, and finally scaled a wall (not very high, but a little hard on the tuchas), and, voila! I met the path.  Now, I may be conflating a few misadventures here, but every action narrated was, in fact, executed.  

Have I mentioned that except for when it rains my hair is looking quite miserable?  But because the greater orb to light the day is so rarely manifesting its presence, HAT, the great disguiser, is not needed.  Oh, and I am not exactly tearing though the sunscreen.  But in just a couple of days it will be August, and doubtless the entire weather system will change.

Great sight of the day was this waterfall:

 At the base of which was a frothy, meringue-like collection of foam floating about: 

Then off it all went, except for the meringue, rushing to the sea:

And the little wooden bridge that allows one to safely cross:

Machynlleth-Borth-Llanryhstud//Penrhos

Two days after the warning,  I find the pile of logs one was told not to climb on:

A few days ago, as I was coming down a steep, stony hill, a cyclist, riding up the hill, dismounted and was pushing his velo, tires full of cow dung and he full of sweat, up the hill with as much vigour as he could muster, which was a lot.  Unable to restrain myself, I blurted out, "Why would anyone want to ride a bicycle up here?"  Reply, "I have problems."

Does the picture need a better comment?  Well, I can hardly wait!

After it finally stopped raining, the humidity came out just as it was time to walk through this nature reserve.  I always get excited when I see nature reserve signs, only I think I don't stick around long enough to catch the surprises.  All I see is a lot of this:

It rained a lot yesterday and there were lots of boggy patches and tricky directional changes.  Mileage was up at about 18 partly because I "had to" go to the grocery store, which I thought would be 1/3 mile from the B and B, but it was almost in the next town.

Today was another 18 mile day or maybe more, I forget, in the P O U R I N G rain, some of it like icicles, and mucho mucho viento.  After about five hours of this punishment, it actually stopped raining for a few minutes, but then it began again.  It was relentless.  I think the scenery was supposed to have been quite spectacular, but I cannot affirm that.

Finally, in the last hour of the walk, just when I am enjoying the thought of actually arriving at B&B and having a peanut butter and jam sandwich after a hot shower, I turn to go on the muddy as all get out narrow path framed by thick gorse, but who got there first?  A heard of cows.  There they were, so many of them, huddled together against the bloody rain, cows up ahead as far as the eye could see, which, granted was not very far, but still, there was not an inch of space to pass.  As I got very close, one bossy tried to push her way ahead, but her bovine companions would not budge, so rather than risk getting kicked in the face by a big muddy hoof, I turned back, chagrined, to search for another way to pick u the path. Fortunately, after a few tries, I found one, and, after almost nine hours of what has become a daily endurance contest, arrived at the Penrhos Golf and Country Club (yes!).  THERE IS A TOASTER in the room, so the long desired sandwich was all the more satisfying and delicious for its being made on crisp, hot toast.  It is the little things that make life sweet!

Machynlleth, rest day, July 26, 2017

It rained, but that did not affect the day very much. In the morning went to MoMA!  Not related to the New York original, but it did have a small exhibit featuring local artists.  My favourite was this piece made out of fine jewellery wire.  Since a title had not been given it, I am calling it Uncontainable Woman:

This watercolour(?) was done by a nine-year old girl.  Would you believe?

The one piece of embroidery was charming:

A detail:

The afternoon's event was the reason for the rest day.  It was a Just For You Falconry Experience.  To see better photos than I took go here: <http://www.raptorexperiencewales.co.uk/just-for-you/page17.html>  

You go to this falconry place a few miles outside of Machynlleth, which you are still trying to pronounce, and Luce will bombard you with such an array of facts about these birds that your head will be swimming or spinning in just a few minutes.  I cannot remember the half of it, but what I can tell you is that the birds are weighed every day because their weight, to the ounce, determines whether they will fly, which determines how much raw chicken (if any) they get, y es muy complicado.  

Now, if I am not mistaken, the eyes of this bird (yikes, but it could have been a different owl) can change from yellow to blue when necessary....they have a blue membrane sort of like a cataract that comes down when needed:

This is Barry with a bigger fellow:

And with a bald eagle.  Isn't he majestic?

No, you can't get away:

You really can't.  (You have to stay just like that to have your silhouette drawn for the USPS logo):

This is a brother and sister pair of Barn Owls from South Africa.  They have the softest little feathers:

Part of the "experience" is putting on a leather glove and letting the birds land on you as they swoop in to get their little bit of raw chicken.  It is amazing how delicately they alight. When they do, they land with a talon over the bit of food to secure it, then dig it out.

Although I could not absorb the myriad facts I was told, I did get a thrill seeing the birds so close up. You get to see the the makeup of the feathers, the little pads on the bottoms of their feet, so many details normally too far away to be seen.

I am not going to tell you what these birds eat as a main course!  You will have to spend a few hours with Barry and Luce to find out!

Tywyn to Machynlleth July 25, 2017

From Tywyn one starts out with a 4+ mile beach walk.  I hit it at low tide, the best time to see this huge beach in its vast stunningness:

Blob with blobby finger-lik eprojections:

Yet something else one had not previously thought about:

By and by this morning I heard the sound of hundreds of bleating sheep.  Glancing off to the left, I saw hundreds of sheep being herded by a couple of border collies, and a couple of "shepherds" seated atop small tractors, and those shepherds where a whooping and a hollering, just like you think they would.  The whole scene was out of view very quickly as sheep, dogs, and men on tractors disappeared over the brow of the hill.

Where there are sheep, there are cows.  A whole bunch were committed to blocking the road as cows are wont to do.  "Please, cows, would you let me pass?"  Finally, when you get close enough, they do, but I was concerned lest their new activity cause them alarm and they decide t come after me after all:

But they went on their way:

Tree: 

Pretty view:

Just-about-to-be-consumed nectarine, on top of memorial stone to Arthur:

Everything Old Bought And Sold read the sign:

A neat and tidy little place it was.  Why it has not kept its rating, who knows:

Sort of like not abseiling in the quarry, except there were no timber stacks to be seen:

Barmouth to Twyn July 24, 2017

Tonight, in Machynlleth,  I am staying at a hotel that was built in 1870, well, not as a hotel then, but as a private residence.  There are remnants of its history.  The floors slant at such a tilt that I wondered briefly if I should use my poles whilst navigating the hallways.  To get wi-fi, the computer has to be stuck out the window.  The second option for wi-fi is to come to the lounge, where I am now.  But I am getting ahead of the story.

Yesterday started out with a super walk across the old Barmouth bridge.

A view, maybe from the bridge, but does it matter?

I was up in them there hills (looks a lot like Two Bosom Peaks):

Who gets right of way around here:

Would you believe I was just about to abseil in the quarry:

But decided to forgo the experience.  Besides, I do do not think that this pile of slate was the quarry exactly.

Speaking of the quarry, though, brings to mind an encounter with man taking a morning walk. Learning that I was walking the WCP, he offered some advice.  "When you get to the WCP sign just ahead, ignore its telling you to turn left.  Stay on this path instead.  It is much nicer."  Got to sign, took advice, and the recommended path was quite lovely, as promised, then after about twenty minutes, I met the WCP in exactly the place he told me not to turn left.  It was a pretty detour, however.

Walk to Tywyn, though stunning,  was L O N G as in 19 miles (counting navigational issues and detour), and I would have liked to checked into the B and B before 4:00, but the somewhat unpleasant host of Preswylfya Guest House would have nothing to do with my request, nor would he allow me to drop off my pack.  So, on arrival, desperately wanting to doff the boots, and with an hour and half to check in time, I took the little Talyllyn train to wherever and back.  It was a sweet, slow, but not spectacular journey, and sitting down, drinking a bottle of sparkling water, while looking at the countryside was quite pleasant.

The claim to fame of said train is that it was the inspiration for Thomas the Train, as you can see:

 The green-doored carriages are first class:

Originally the tracks were laid to transport slate from mine to port, but then it was decided to add a passenger train for families and others in the area, so around 1865 Thomas was born!

Llanbedr to Barmouth July 23

Along the way this morning, was the largest camping+car site in the EU.  Somehow, sleeping in a tent right next to your car, which is right next to hundreds of other people sleeping in tents right next to their cars, seems at odds with the experience of being one with nature.  

Just after the car+tent extravaganza, was a two+ stretch of beach walking, not the kind of beach walking where you want to kick off your boots, through them over your neck (a really great feeling), and feel the sand and water between your toes, pero bueno.  One third of the beach is devoted to people who want to cavort without being encumbered by bikinis and such:

This is where they get to cavort:

But at 8:15 on a chilly Sunday morning, not a tuchas was to be seen:

One may wonder whether the prosecution for overstepping the boundary is the same or different from that for not shutting a gate.

There was an optional mountain route today between Tal Y Bont and Barmouth.  I was kind of scared to take it because the last optional route I took way back at Mostyn was a nightmare.  But took it I did and it was just gorgeous, way more gorgeous than the photo would lead you to believe:

A sweet little waterfall en route:

Stone walls snaking through the countryside:

I don't have Ruth's name-the-mountain app, but I will call these hills Twin-Bosom-Peaks:

Now here is a structure waiting to serve as a sukkah:

I really liked my hotel, The Tilman, in Barmouth.  It didn't look at all like the sukkah.  Even though it was rooms over a bar-restaurant, not my favourite genre, everything worked so well, especially the shower, which, in these parts, tends to offer a different surprise every night.  And the wi-fi was state of the art!

Llacdecwyn Station to Llanbedr

Woke up this morning and did not hear the sound of rain striking the pavement.  It actually was not raining despite the prediction.  Oh, joy!  Let's celebrate with a bright patch of thistle:

The walk today was easy and gorgeous:

A little church surrounded by a big cemetery:

Made a stop at Harlech Castle

So now I have seen the four big ones in Wales:  Beaumaris, Caernarfon, Criccieth, and Harlech.  As it is said, that and $5.00 will get you a latte grande.  Speaking of food, I did have a delicious Welsh fudge ice cream cone, a new flavour for me, keeping with my commitment to try a new flavour whenever possible

Looking down at some artifacts(?) neatly arranged:

Boats in a mud flat:

Don't those yellow lines look like an invitation to cross?  I thought so.  But you weren't supposed to the penalty for which was just a little bit more road walking:

A different sort of penalty, £1000, will keep people remembering to close the gate even though this particular one could not be open due to its being padlocked shut.

The walking is becoming more beautiful by the day.