How do you Solva problem like Helen? Part 2: Solva to Broad Haven

Leaving Helen's car in the car park by the sea front at Broad Haven, Helen and I drove to Solva in my trusty little C1. I have to admit to feeling somewhat shabby that morning, as we had overindulged a tad on the cava the evening before, and listening to Helen bemoaning her own obliviousness and blaming me for not saying anything wasn't really helping. However, I was looking forward to the day's walk as we would be passing through Newgale, one of my favourite places in the world. The weather was decidedly damp and drizzly, though forecast to lift later on in the morning.

Driving into Solva from the South is quite a lively experience and I turned very carefully into the car park next to the pub. As I did so, Helen drew a loud breath - just to our left was a taxi and disappearing into were Long, Short and Grumpy. Helen pressed her nose to the window and as the taxi pulled away we caught a glimpse of Short, waving. It was a poignant little vignette - the potential for romance leaving Solva to catch the early train from Milford Haven. I was almost tempted to leap out of the car, flag the taxi down and hand Short Helen's mobile number. But I didn't have a pen or a piece of paper and besides, they were already disappearing onto the main road. (I am profoundly touched by this level of thoughtful, if somewhat tardy, concern for my love-life.)

I was also feeling a little shabby but like Rhian I was looking forward to the walk. This was all new to me and we had 11 miles to go. Just before we left the car I spent a little while sorting out my walking poles and boots and decided that I would leave some things hidden under the car seat. I always worried that stuff would drop out of my rucksack mid walk and leave me stranded in Pembrokeshire.

'Aren't you ready yet? I'm keen to get started.'

'Just sorting out a few things. I want to leave some stuff in your car. And I'm broken hearted, remember?'

She laughed in vaguely sympathetic way. 'Done now?'

'Yes, already.' And off we went.

As is often the case on the Path, the morning started with a brisk walk uphill. Many of the places you can access the path at are sea level so before you can get to grips with the walk you have to head up a hill and onto cliff tops. Puffing and panting we went up a set of steps, past another lime kiln, and eventually got to the grassy ridge of Gribben. The fresh air blew away the cobwebs and the day was getting better with every step. Sadly, what wasn't getting any better was the weather. It has started cloudy and we were now walking up into misty rain. The last few days had been stunning and the damp sapped our spirits a little.

'Never mind'. said Rhian, 'We will be passing the Valley of St Elvis soon'. We passed it. It wasn't that impressive in the drizzle. No wonder he went to Nashville.

We plodded on, silent for once, concentrating on staying on the path which was a little slippery underfoot when we heard some voices coming out of the mist.

'It is this way, I am sure' said a woman in an Eastern European accent. She sounded very sure of herself .

'Are you dear?' This time it was a man. He sounded terribly weary and you got the feeling that this wasn't the first time they had had this exchange. 'If you say so.'

As we got closer we could see the speakers, a middle aged woman, an older man and a boy of around 10. They were not dressed for the weather. The man had on a checked shirt, tie and sleeveless pullover. The boy had a sweatshirt on, into which the misty rain was being absorbed efficiently. The woman was jabbing at a small booklet with her finger.

'This is the path that we need to take to get to The Valley of St Elvis'. The boy and the man looked as if they had long given up arguing.

As we got closer Rhian said hello and asked them if they were lost.

'I have this map' said the woman and waved it at her. The map wasn't terribly good, just a line drawing and this instantly made me feel better. I might be too stupid to spot when someone was chatting me up but at least I had a good map. The map was very small and hand drawn and featured in what appeared to be a book from the early days of printing. Words like "forsooth" and "verily" popped out at me as I tried to make out the terrain that it depicted. I could have sworn it had "Here be dragons" printed in the top right hand corner, and bottom left was a cloud with its cheeks puffed out. I was concerned that this might not be totally accurate for 2018.

'Would you like to see our map?' ventured Rhian, helpfully.

'No, it is fine. This is a good map. I know where we have to go.' And with that she walked back into the mist with her husband and son following behind her. Trouble was she was going in totally the wrong direction, out towards the headland of Dinas Fawr.

'But you are going the wrong way!', yelled Rhian, worried now that they were going to tumble off the cliff edge.

'No it is fine, I know the way', came her disembodied voice. They vanished from sight and sound and we started to walk again, away from the head land.

We carried on along the path. There was nothing to see as we were walking in heavy mist and the path was unremarkable. I was sure that we were missing stunning views and this was more than a little frustrating. That last few days had spoiled us. After a few minutes walking we stopped to adjust our walking jackets and to put the waterproof covers on our rucksacks. As we fiddled with our kit a now familiar voice came out of the fog. It was the woman and she was ahead of us again. I have no idea how they managed this. We had sent them in the right direction but somehow they had got ahead of us.

'Oh hello,' said Rhian brightly, 'Fancy seeing you again!'

The woman looked at her. You could see the flicker of indecision cross her face. She couldn't decide if she wanted to admit our previous meeting of ten minutes ago.

'Ah yes, you gave us bad advice on how to find the Path of St Elvis.'

'Hang on,' said Rhian 'We didn't...'

She never got the chance to finish; the woman cut in, 'I know the way to get to Elvis.' And with that she strode off, Pullover Man and Sodden Boy trotting to keep up with her.

'What an odd woman!'

'And ungrateful to boot!'

Odd Woman vanished and we walked along the clifftop wrapped in our waterproofs and the mist surrounding us. It was making for a rather dull day and we were making slow progress. After another 10 minutes a young couple loomed out of the mist towards us and we stopped to share a few pleasantries. Being British the weather was a good conversational gambit but after a few minutes the man said, 'We just had to help a family find the Path to St Elvis, they had a terrible map!' and the woman chipped in, 'And someone had given them bad directions and they had got lost in the mist.'

Rhian rolled her eyes, 'Odd woman, man in a pullover and a very soggy boy? Yes, we met them.' There was a strained pause and boots were shuffled in the mud. 'Oh, well, we had better get going' and off they shot. We walked on, alternately fuming and laughing at the Odd Woman. We passed the headland of Dinas Fach, came out of the cloud and saw a huge set of steps that took us down into Porthmynawyd with another set of steps leading out of it. It looked daunting. Mud was a feature, of course, and slippery steps carved out of the rock.

'Come on Master Frodo, I have some lembas bread for us when we reach the top of the steps.'

"Thank you, Sam, but I think I would prefer a Mars Bar."

We had just got to the bottom when a man and woman walked down the steps towards us. we stopped and chatted for a while before we both took on the climb out of the valley.

'Its been a dull walk in the cloud' I ventured, 'Apart from the family who kept getting lost.'

'Oh did you see them? We put them on the right track a few times but they kept going wrong. They have just headed inland following that path." He pointed and we saw a marker post for a footpath pointing inland, and just faintly, above the sound of the waves crashing to our right, a strident female voice could be heard. We exchanged looks with the couple, bade them farewell and set off again. I just hope that the Odd Woman and her long-suffering family made it to St Elvis and there was no crying in the chapel, or anywhere else for that matter.

It was about two miles to Newgale and soon we could see the beautiful beach stretching ahead of us. The surf was amazing, even from this distance.

This photo was taken on a sunnier day but shows Newgale in the near distance. Once again the views were expansive and stunning and the misty rain had eased as we walked this stretch.

Gerald of Wales passed this way in the twelfth century and saw a submerged forest at Newgale. We didn't see it as we passed as the tide has to be very low for it to be visible at the northern end of the sands. We did see one when we walked to Borth (see the Ceredigion walks for details.)

There is a lovely café, a pub, a shop and a campsite at Newgale, making it a perfect place for camping trips. There is also a surf school. I love it (not surfing, the place!). The landscape could be described as bleak in bad weather, there are no trees and only low-lying bushes because of the strength of the winds that hit this west-facing stretch of coastline but it has a wildness that is exhilarating. The beach is backed by a huge bank of pebbles which, in the winter, is sometimes engulfed by the sea, flooding the road and the camping field.

Another older photo of Newgale taken from the other direction, as it were. The view as you reach this point always makes me gasp.

We came down the hill and walked along the two miles of sand, watching kitesurfers and windsurfers and discussing the craziness of such people. We were flagging at this point and were in need of sustenance and a rest. Ahead of us was the welcome sight of the Pebbles Café.

I was tired and my feet were in really bad shape. It had been too wet to wear my walking sandals and my two missing toenails were really hurting me. As we came to the end of the beach and to the small café the smell of chips wafted enticingly.

'Shall we get some lunch, Master Frodo' I asked?'

'Good idea, I'm sick of Lembas bread, Sam'

We sat down and were soon staring at plates of chips and cheese with a mug of steaming tea.

'I wonder if that woman has got to Elvis yet?'

'No idea. I wouldn't bet my blue suede shoes on it.'

'God, my feet are hurting. Between them and the lack of views I haven't enjoyed this walk much.'

'Nor me.' We sat in silence, enjoying the calorific joys of our lunch. Chips, enveloped with cheddar cheese and anointed with tomato sauce. I could hear my arteries harden with every mouthful but I didn't care. This was oleaginous ambrosia of the finest kind. Very reluctantly we got to our feet when we finished, paid and staggered our of the café.

'So how far have we walked so far, Rhi?'

Rhian pulled out the guide book and checked the distance table. Her face fell.

'Christ, 5 miles. All of that was only 5 miles!'

This was awful, I was aching all over, my feet were agony and I was exhausted and we still had 6 miles to go. The problem hadn't been just this day. It was the fact that we has walked 24 miles in the previous two days. Every day gets that little bit harder on a long distance walk and the fatigue suddenly hit me. Trouble was, my car was 6 miles along the path in Broad Haven carpark and Rhian's was 5 miles back in Solva. We were stuck and had no choice but to carry on.

The Path took us briefly along a small road and we started to climb up the slope at the end of Newgale Beach. And then we saw it: a bus. This was something new. We had never seen a bus on any of the route so far. We knew that they must exist but like helpful Ofsted Inspectors we had never actually seen one. Imperceptibly we had started walking a little faster as if by some unspoken agreement.

'Its a bus, Master Frodo.'

'No shit, Sam.'

'But we don't take buses to Mordor, do we Master Frodo?'

'In the main they are full of orcs, but this one looks empty.'

'It might not be going to Mordor, it might be going back to the Shire.'

'And it is called the Puffin Shuttle, Sam. I think this might be a sign from Gandalf.'

We were getting breathless now, our walk had almost became a slow jog as we sped up, desperate to catch the bus but still pretending that we weren't. Panicked seconds passed and we got ever closer. If this bus went before we got there I was going to cry real tears.

We got there and the door was open.

'Where are you going to?' I said, breathless now from our jog up the hill.

'Broad Haven.'

We exchanged glances, this was a no brainer.

'Two singles to Broad Haven', said Rhian.

The glorious Puffin Shuttle - pictured here somewhere else on its route - that saved our poor feet that day.

And on we got, collapsing into our seats and enjoying the view as The Puffin Shuttle sped along the 6 miles to Broad Haven and my car.

'This was meant to be.' I said. 'And we can rest up today and pick up the path at Newgale tomorrow so we aren't really cheating. We are just rearranging the days a bit.'

'Yes, good idea. You can be quite sensible sometimes, Hel, when you aren't being daft.'

I had to laugh, she was harsh but fair. The Puffin shuttle covered what would have taken hours in a few minutes and we soon arrived at our destination. The sun was beginning to come out, there was an ice cream van on the front and the day had perked up no end.

I said, "Aha! Look, Hel, there's your car in the car park! Not too far to walk!" as the bus crossed the bridge at the sea front and pulled up to let us off.

Getting off the bus, walking towards carpark I put my hand in my pocket, ready to get...

Christ, she was going to kill me. She was really going to kill me. Push me off a cliff or strangle me with the straps of my ruck sack. This was going to be my last day on earth. My best mate was going to kill me, on the sea front, between the Mr Whippy van and the litter bin. What's more, I couldn't blame her. I had left the fucking car keys under the seat of her car in Solva 'for safety'. Nothing for it, I had to be honest, 'Err Rhian, I have done something stupid'.

She was looking at the sea, sparkling in the sun that had just come out from behind dark clouds and smiled, 'What now?'

'No, really stupid.'

"What?" I said again. A sinking feeling had hit me as I sensed what she was just about to say.

"You're going to kill me." she said. She looked genuinely scared. (I was.)

"Go on. Tell me," I said.

"Oh god, Rhian. My car keys - "

"You've left them in my car, haven't you?" I said. "I knew as soon as you started rummaging for them. I just knew!"

She looked at me with an expression that I can only describe as pathetic. She seemed to shrink back in fear at what I might do, like Dobby the house elf when faced with a member of the Malfoy family.

She had been fannying around with "stuff" when we parked up at Solva. Why had I not questioned her about this at the time? I was culpable in this as well, and I knew it. I had colluded in this catastrophe. So I couldn't kill her. I restrained myself. (Frankly, I couldn't have blamed you if you had killed me.)

"Yes" she whispered. (I couldn't believe that she hadn't killed me)

"Oh well, we will just have to catch the bus back to Solva," I said, calmly.

Relieved that I had spared her life, she went to ask the bus driver when the next bus back to Solva was due. It wasn't great news. "Three pm," he said.

It was only 12.30. We couldn't make an ice cream last two and a half hours, and the weather wasn't good enough for a paddle and some sunbathing. As the one who had left her car keys in my car and was desperate to try to make amends, and also the one with some phone signal, Helen rang for a taxi. She kept apologising (which was beginning to irritate) and saying with incredulity, "I don't know how you are so calm! I would have killed me if I were you!" (I still don't know how she didn't kill me.)

The ice creams were finished and eventually the taxi arrived. We sat in the back while the driver laughed at my idiocy. 'You never did?! How didn't you kill her?' Rhian rolled her eyes, 'Practice', she said, 'Lots of practice.'.

I kept silent and resolved to pour her wine with a very generous hand when we got back to the chalet.

This section of the walk is dedicated to Steph Bees, who laughed a lot when we first confessed it on Facebook. She nagged us to write up the walks for many years. So you can blame her for this blog!