Trearddur Bay to Rhosneigr and Newborough July 7+8

Heading out on an overcast morning:

Small section of L O N G wall:

Two white goats:

One brown horse:

And one little pony:

A three-step-stone-stile:

The path is overgrown (very), but making your way through five-foot tall corn is not as difficult as pushing though nettles and gorse.  After a while, too long a while, you realize that you should put on your gaiters and you do:

What might the penalty be?

Never did figure that out, but on with the next day's beautiful walk, 14.5 miles and flat.  The hills will come!  Soon!

The nice thing about taking pictures of snails is, that unlike birds, bees, and butterflies, they sort of wait for you.  But, you cannot always capture the front AND back ends at the same time!

Another early morning sight:

This island is bunny heaven.  And the area I walked through to-day was the capital of bunny heaven.  I think the bunny, whose home is on the right, has a good piece of real estate because notice how well it is landscaped:

Cliff of the day:

Definitely the sight of the day:

Rest Day and Holyhead to Trearddur Bay

Today was a day I had been looking forward to in one way and dreading in another, each for a different reason. The exciting part was an excursion with Ken Croft, birdman of Anglesey.  He picks you up, takes you to a place where you get out of the car and start walking.  You see grasses, clover, heather, gorse, the usual stuff, but Ken stops, sets up his tripod upon which is mounted a telescope, looks through it, turns it a bit this way and that, tells you to jump in to look, and, like magic, there is a splendid creature, whose name, alas, you do not remember, but a few were:  chough, egret, guillemot,—lots and lots of guillemots—mallard, egret, oystercatcher, plover, puffin, manx shearwater, and mute swan.

A number of the birds of Anglesey migrate to Africa; some partially.  This does not mean that they stop in Spain, it means that some migrate and some stay.  (How they decide who will stay and who will go, is one of nature's mysteries.) This does not empty the island of birdlife in the winter, however, because some birds from the arctic migrate here, so it all works out.  BTW, a documentary anyone and everyone would really enjoy is Winged Migration.  Try to watch it on the biggest screen you can because it is so beautiful.  Anyway, my birding day was full of delight, an experience to remember.

The dread had to do with my having to upload data to the GPS.  I figured out, thank God, that I had better take out the map from the GPS before uploading data.  This is because the map is locked to the GPS-that-died, therefore the computer won't recognize it in the new GPS.  So why am I not using the map that I had to buy with the new GPS? Because the new GPS won't recognize IT!  This is a delicate situation, to say the least.  I breathed a huge sigh of relief when the data loaded—after I figured out some of Basecamp's quirks—and the map, reinserted into the device, showed itself.  As it is said, "It's all good!"

Today's walk, from Holyhead (a depressed town if ever there was one, but it does have a good bakery), to Trearddur Bay was not as navigationally challenging as the walks of previous days. Speaking of navigation,  I was lamenting to Ken yesterday my frustrations, and he was quite in accord that the signage and barriers, etc., were thorns in one's side!

Well, dragonflies and birds are given directions:

Nature's bathroom; it comes in many varieties.  This one offered excellent visibility in all directions, allowing one to determine whether or not another human is within viewing distance.  Notice the convenient spot for resting your poles:

A sculpture by the path:

And, in the same style, a bench:

From the top of a cliff:

A different kind of cliff and a different perspective:

This is a very bad photo, but if you were in a field with many large HE bovines, how hard would you try, and how long would you linger to get a good shot?

Goats, or maybe not goats, but definitely not scary:

Bull Bay to Church Bay to Holyhead July 3+4

Yesterday's walk was to be 16 miles and today's 14, but what is supposed to be and what is are not necessarily the same, for, in fact,  yesterday' walk was 20.81 miles and today's was 18.5.  Let's put it this way, this walk is the most navigationally challenging I have done, except maybe the first Coast to Coast when I knew nada de nada, and now, thanks be to God, I can at least use a GPS.  Just as an aside, though, A GPS cannot tell you that yes, you are going in the right direction only you can't continue in the right direction because there is a wall or a fence or barbed wire or some other impassible obstacle in your way.  This is where raw, human intelligence comes in! It helps you determine that, "No, it cannot be this way exactly because the human person cannot continue, this way having stopped  abruptly.  Example to be supplied shortly.

Anyway, almost 21 miles through difficult terrain is a lot of miles.  It was not so much the hillage, although there was some, it was things like lots and lots of tall wet grass (there must be a physics theory that deals with the resistance of tall wet grass and the energy it takes to push through it, and maybe also a variant theory relating to stony beaches and stuff), and loose stones and more tall wet grass.

I was tired by the end of it, I have to say, and at the end of today's, too, though the distance was slightly more modest.  Yesterday was a Pu&Do day, and Eurwyn, the guy, knowing I wasn't keen on restaurants, but preferred to have a sandwich in the room, stopped at a Super Tesco so that I could pick up a few things.  That store was so big, sort of like a super WalMart, that I had to ask someone where the food was.  Turns out it was in the middle of the store, but so vast was the place that it was not easy to find what you wanted, and besides my mental faculties were not the keenest at that point. Whilst seeking out egg salad (not found), I did find potato salad, and discovered that it, too, makes a pretty good dressing on those mini romaine lettuces they sell here.

Back to the walk.  Every day should have at least one shot of scenery:

And one rock, which, you could say, is a subset of scenery:

This was a place where I could not find my way, not because I was looking for the house that was not, although that could have been a factor:

The aptly named Shale Beach:

The important part of this picture is not the impressive rear end of the cow, it is the slightly blurry walker-guy to the left.  (He is the first walker person I have met, only he was going in the other direction.) Walker guy was scared of the cows.

He was especially afraid of this bull, but I told him that anatomic evidence suggested that this was a she animal.  Horns can throw one off:

Cow on left is telling walker guy, "Walker guy, I am going to eat you for lunch." Cow on right does not care:

Cows looking satisfied after lunch:

Anyone walking the length of this beach—it must have been between 1/2-1 mile long— need never take a Pilates class:

Name of this house:  New House;

Now, you see this huge area of green, which, when walking through it, you do not know how you are going to get out of it?  Because there is either nothing or a wall, even though you are doing it right, You think and you try and wander and you try again and wander some more, and finally slog back to the last "thing" you remember, which, in this case, was a wooden gate, and, yes, there is a little sign telling you to go this way, but, ha, you are supposed to be on the other side of the barbed wire and walking along the estuary instead.  You are so filled with joy at finding the estuary that you forgive the "not-error" you made and all the wandering you did and all the time spent trying to figure it out:

The estuary you are supposed to be walking along.  But guess what?  When you emerge from the length of this estuary, you find yourself in a field that looks JUST LIKE THE ONE ABOVE, only it is not, thank God, the one above, but its neighbour and twin, and it did have egress:

Some ducks near a parking lot:

p.s. I should not be hard on walker guy because later in the day, again cursing a field whose exit could not be located, I was about to head for a a large, high metal gate, which I was planning on scaling had it been locked (that would not have helped, it turns out) when all of a sudden a herd of huge bovines came charging though said gate and were heading straight for me at full gallop. "I am getting out of this field, " I said, "Even if I have to call a taxi to finish this segment"—and it is a good thing I did not have to because there is no reception on most parts of this island—and I swear, just as I was reaching safety, a creature of gargantuan dimensions was breathing hotly down my neck,  All that said, I think the cows are more curious than dangerous, but still!

Moelfre to Bull Bay July 02

The sun shone today!  AND it was not overly hot, a good thing, too, because this was a L O N G day: 16.5 miles.  Fortunately, the last bit was strikingly beautiful, but maybe that would have been better earlier on when your little toe is not hurting so you could enjoy the drama more better.  

Like I said yesterday, this is a ruse:

Hey there Cap'n Jack!  (I have no idea what this guy did to earn himself a stature.)

In Wales one can be warned bilingually.  

 In places like this it is hard to know in which direction to go.  Even the walker guy (above) might not be striding so confidently:

But here you do:

A trio of lovelies:

This is a huge, I mean huge cargo ship sitting in a queue—like planes on the tarmac—waiting for high tide so that it can dock at Liverpool:

Shots of rock formations never capture the grandeur of the real thing, pero bueno:

Caim to Moelfre, July 1, 2017

Such a gorgeous day to day!  There were some navigation problems, though, for example, I got off the path at the wrong place so missed about a mile of coast line.  I would go back to do it tomorrow, but tomorrow's walk is long enough without adding a mile from the B and B to the "wrong spot" + the extra mile.

So, navigation.  You see this photo?  You see the little brown post behind the leaves?  That is a marker.  Then, heretofore, unbeknownst to me, it turns out that little posts with bright yellow caps on top are also markers (I missed one today) along with the regulation circles that have birds on them. But a picture of a walking person + an arrow is not.  

Thank God the dogs had not yet been let out for the day:

Beach walking.  It was harder than it looks, but on a dry day, it's not so bad:

But THIS was gorgeous!  Four miles of gorgeous!  Took off my boots after about ten minutes and went barefoot.  You just have to watch our for those razor like shells:

Of course, if you are going to walk barefoot on wet sand, you are going to have to put your socks and boots back on your sandy feet.  So what do you do?  Why you go into your back pack and fetch that cunning, thin little piece of red and white cotton fabric that you had bought two years prior in a museum in Paris because it was pretty and it was inexpensive even though you had no actual use for it at the time—nor could you think of one—but boy, does it make a good little towel when you need one!

Menai Bridge to past Beaumaris June 30

Today, at the end of the walk, I was met by Car Talk's chauffeur, PickupandDropoff (from now on to be referred to as Pu&Do) to be transported back to Beaumaris, then, to be returned tomorrow to recommence.  This is one of my least favourite arrangements because I like to be in charge of my schedule, pero bueno, it worked out fine, and besides, Eurwyn, planner and driver, is helping me pronounce Welsh, a definite bonus.

A few words about guilt!  I was feeling guilty that I had bought a new backpack and new rain gear for this walk, oh, and new boots, but those I had to buy, the resoling of the old ones having turned out to be a total waste of money, but now I am so happy that I made these purchases.  The left at home raincoat and pants (from Zpacks) as lightweight  as can be, but the raincoat makes the left side of my face itch like crazy.  Both coat and pants (very large) make an annoying sound as you walk, besides.  Now, the OR Pertex Shiled Plus ensemble fits perfectly and does not make my face itch nor do these garments make an annoying sound when you walk!  But I hope I won't need the pants and jacket quite so regularly because at this very moment, local time 7:15 p.m., it is not raining and the sun was out for a few minutes a little while ago, which reminds me of a story:

Yankel always had bad luck.  Nothing ever went well for him.  For example, every morning after he put jelly on his bread, he dropped it, and it landed jelly side down. Day after day, the bread fell and landed jelly side down. One morning, Yankel put jelly on his bread, dropped it, only this time it landed jelly side up!  He could hardly believe it!  He ran to the rabbi and with great excitement shouting, "Rabbi, rabbi, this morning when I dropped my bread on the floor it landed jelly side up.  Does this mean my luck is changing?"  The rabbi stroked his beard,  thought carefully for some time, and finally replied, "No, Yankel, I am afraid it does not.  It just means that his morning, you put the jelly on the wrong side of the bread."

We'll leave the virtues of the new backpack for a slow news day.

Despite the rain, which you cannot see, I could not resist struggling to take off the gloves and mittens, and  get the camera out to capture this bull breakfasting:

But back to the rain....there was walking on the beach, which, in the rain and wind would be fine, or maybe not so fine, except this beach had huge slippery, slimy stones.  Before you know it, you are no longer vertical, but uttering expletives from a prone position, but really happy that your iPhone did not shatter.  Some of the scenery was quite bucolic.  I am guessing there will be more of it as the circuit around Angelesy continues.

In Beaumaris there is a GAOL and an old courthouse, but they are closed on Fridays, which means that today you couldn't go to court and you couldn't go to jail!  I really sulked about this:

Beaumaris also has a castle—the remnants of a castle—that was never completed due to financial issues: the money ran out and the workers deserted when Edward I turned his attention to Scotland.  What there is, though, is intricate and impressive, having been designed by James of Saint George, the most famous designer of castles in all the land.  He also designed Conwy Castle (seen) and Harlech (yet to be seen).  (I think the statue of James was designed by someone who specialised in religious art.)

Anyway, the castle's moat is still there for all to see:

And so is an old saw (ha):

The castle walls may not keep out enemies of undetermined origin, but they do offer a home to baby gulls: