A disappointment occurred at Pendine Sands. There, up on a high cliff, I gazed with happiness at a L O N G stretch of beach at low tide. Oh joy, I thought, what a delight that will be to walk along. Desafortunadamente, almost the entire beach is a military site, so no can go, or, in guide book speak, 'The walker is forced inland." Several miles of road and field substituted as the alluring sands remained out of sight.
There were other sights on the way, however, like this grassy waterfall:
And some important signage;
No place for fish and chips wrappers;
Arrived at Laugharne, I sought out my hostess in the parking lot to the castle where, she had told me, she sells cakes every Wednesday. Our plan was that I would leave my backpack in her car before visiting the few attractions of the town. Instead, I bought a cake, she gave me the key to the B and B, I plodded a mile or so uphill, let myself in, took a plate and fork from the dining room (shhh), made tea, and ate that lovely variant of a Victoria Sponge. How delicious it was!
Turns out that the places I wanted to visit did not take much time, which was a good thing, because it did start to rain—and hours later has not stopped—so it was nice to get back inside again.
There was ye olde castle:
in a setting strange for such a ruin:
And of course, a hero praised by Dylan Thomas who lived here and is beloved and much esteemed by the town:
Then there was a museum of sorts called The Tin Shed Experience, but when the guide spoke a few words of Welsh to demonstrate to the visitors what it is like to hear a language you don't understand, I fled. I'm thinking that many guides specialize in speaking to groups of (very) young school children.
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