The Ffield of Dreams, Cardigan to Aberporth

The first part of the Coastal Path that we walked was Ceredigeon and we planned to walk from Cardigan in the south to Aberystwyth at the northern end. The plan was to stay in accommodation along the way and carry our rucksacks as we went. The first day was Cardigan to Aberporth and the value in the book was 13 miles. As we were to learn, the book often lies. We spent the night at Rhian’s house and drank far too much wine. I woke, jaded and sluggish, not in the best of conditions of a long walk.

Nick gave us a lift to Cardigan where we would start our walk. I can’t remember that much about it as we zipped along the country lanes other than feeling very car sick. Rhian changed seats with me, which was kind, and I stood in the fresh air for a few moments trying to settle my stomach. A severe hangover did not help, did it? I’ve always suffered from car sickness. As a child I would have to sit in the back of the car, with closed windows, as my parents chain-smoked. There was no oxygen in there, we were metabolising pure nicotine and CO2. We were evolving chloroplasts and cork filters at the same time. My mother once accused me of not really being car sick, I just wanted to make a fuss. Amusingly, she said this about 30 seconds before I threw up over her as we were driving up Pentre Hill about three miles from home. This still didn’t buy me much more oxygen but she was a little less disbelieving, at least in my presence. But I digress. Rhian was far kinder and we arrived, safe, sound, and slightly green, in Cardigan.

The Ceredigion part of the path starts at a small statue of an otter, between a bridge and the old Quayside. It used to be one of the busiest ports in the UK after London and Liverpool and now it’s it quiet and peaceful. Busy, busy then time passes and then nothing. A bit like my sex life. But at least the sun was shining, and Nick was taking our rucksacks onto the hotel. This bit of the walk was going to be fun. A doddle. We took the obligatory selfie, Rhian kissed Nick goodbye and off we went.

The Otter at Cardigan Quay, dressed in a Pink Frock, which becomes relevant later in our story.

I didn't set this picture up.

The Pink Frock is proof, if proof were ever needed, that Rhian is a really good and forgiving person.

The path started by cutting up through a park in the town and then along the side of the Teifi estuary. Everything was green and the sun was warm on our backs.

‘This was such a good idea; I don’t know why we left it so long.’

‘Yes, a great idea of mine’

‘What do you mean, your idea?’

‘Well mine, it was my idea’

‘No, it wasn’t’

‘Was’

‘Wasn’t’

It doesn’t matter which one of us is seen as saying either part of this conversation. In a sense we were both saying all of it and we back to teenage, good natured squabbling. It was lovely.

‘I like your tee shirt’

The tee shirt said,’Aberteifi and Fish’ a play on a well-known trademark. I took a photo. Aberteifi is the Welsh name for Cardigan, meaning the mouth of the river Teifi.

Proof of the Tee shirt.

You can see that we started the walk at low tide. That's the river estuary behind me and the Pembroke part of the path. it was going to be a few years before we walked that bit and it nearly killed the pair of us. It looks easy. But looks are deceptive.

‘Yeh, my kids had it made up for me, they are bonkers‘

‘Apples and trees, mate, apples and trees’.

‘Thanks.’

‘ Look, I think we have taken the wrong turning.’

‘How can we? The river is there. And we are here, on a path. That’s the coast, this is a path. So this is the Costal Path.’

‘Yes, but that is a farmhouse, with a dog, and a Private no entrance sign. So, on balance, I think we are going the wrong way’. She gave me a steely look but softened it with, ‘Have a yoghurt coated raisin’. And she was right, of course, she’s always right when it comes to maps and raisins. We back tracked for about 10 minutes and got back on the correct path, skirting the local sewage works and following very closely a barbed wire fence. This was not what I was expecting. I had envisaged wide grassy pathways lined with idyllically beautiful and shady trees, not a ditch next to a fence next to a sewage farm.

‘How far have we been walking?’

‘About a mile and a half’

‘And we have already got lost?’

‘Yup’

‘Bodes well’

‘Yup.’

The path skirted the side of the farm we had almost trespassed on and stopped, abruptly at a field of maize.

‘We must have missed the path again,’ I said

‘No, look, there is the wall we needed to follow and a gap in the fence, this is it’.

‘But it’s into a field’

‘What did you expect?’

‘Well, a path. That maize is higher than my head’

‘Well you are quite short’

‘Look it’s higher than your head too, and you are taller’

‘This is the path’

Walking into the field was disorienting. The wind was rustling the leaves and it was hard to make out exactly which direction we should take. Behind me I could hear Rhian saying, ‘If you build it , they will come. Look, it’s Shoeless Joe Jackson.’

‘It’s the Ffield of Dreams reborn. But with two fs because we are in Wales’

She laughed at that. She’s easily pleased. The wind rustled the maize, eerie but rather spiritual, as we crossed in silence. Now this was the kind of thing I was hoping for.

At the end of the field there was a signpost with the route marker on it. It’s so reassuring to see it. And annoying because it means that Rhian was right in her map reading. The path went through a field of grass, hugging the fence to one side. At the top of the field was a gate.

‘There are cows in there’

‘Well done Rhi, you are right up there with your farm animal spotting abilities. Next you can move on to spotting horses, like a big girl.’

‘I don’t like cows’

‘They’ll be fine, anyway what’s not to like? They are pets you can eat when you get bored of looking after them.’

‘They’re big and they slobber a lot’

‘Like lots of people we were in school with, Rhian, but you aren’t scared of them’

‘But they didn’t chase me through fields’

‘Some probably would if they had a chance but these will be fine. They’re busy eating grass.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes’

We entered the field and the cows turned to face us. Staring at us.

‘Christ, it’s like a bovine version of the Village of the Damned’, she said

‘It is a bit. But we will be fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes’

The path ran across the field diagonally and most of the cows were to the left of it. After about 10 yards in they started to move towards us.

‘They are gaining on us.’

‘Just relax, they’re fine’

‘They are bloody not fine, they are slobbering everywhere. They are getting closer.’

We picked up a little speed.

‘Don’t show them you are scared!’

‘But I am bloody scared!’

Our walk was now turning into a light jog, with the cows matching our pace. I cunningly placed myself with Helen between me and the herd. Our nerve breaking, we ran for the corner of the field, the cows now running behind us. Pamplona by the Sea. She didn’t quite trample me in her rush to get the gate open, but it was a close thing.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you are scared of cows?’

‘Oddly enough it’s never come up before’

‘And you didn’t think it was relevant?’

‘I didn’t expect to find them on a bloody Coastal Path. Not known for their aquatic skills, are they?’

‘Fair point’, I said, catching my breath and looking back over the fence at the cows. They were all back to eating grass, the day’s diversion over.

We walked down to Gwbert , taking in some stunning views of the mouth of the Estuary and Poppet Sands on the Pembroke side of the bay. This area has many old associations for me - my mother lived on her grandmother’s farm some miles inland from here in the late 30s and during the war and she told stories of happy times spent at Gwbert and Mwnt after school and at weekends. It was lovely to finally be there myself.

The path cuts inland for a bit, skirting the land of a farmer who has refused to have the path on his land.

This is Cardigan Island and sadly you can't walk round that headland as the farmer who owns the land has denied access. He makes his living using his farm as a paid attraction so I suppose I understand his actions. But it is a real shame to have this chunk of the path 'missing'.

We are on the Pen Tew side of the path, looking back at the island which looks a bit 'Enid Blyton'. We needed some lashings of ginger beer at this point. It was bloody hot.

For a while we walked along quiet country roads, the sun shone and we relaxed. The path was easy, mostly along the tops of cliffs past Pen Tew and Pen yr Hwbyn and we stopped for lunch in Mwnt. Rhian had packed some excellent sandwiches and we had a cup of tea and some welsh cakes from the small shop.

Mwnt is a stunning beach below the hill of Foel-y-Mwnt and there is a wonderful white church of the Holy Cross.

Rested, after our lunch break, we walked along the cliff tops. The walk took ages, just ages. None of it was exactly difficult but the path just stretched on and on and on. I had never walked this far in one day. After a while we could see the MOD installation on one side of the town of Aberporth, but it took us a very long time to reach it. We were getting hotter and more tired with every step. Finally, we started the walk down into the town and got into a café minutes before it closed.

‘Two large soft drinks please’

‘We are about to close’

‘We will be quick, I swear, and we have walked a long way’, said Rhian, looking pleadingly at the owner.

‘How far is a long way?’

‘Cardigan’

The woman looked us up and down. Two sweating, and in my case extremely red-in-the-face middle aged women.

‘Cardigan?? Really?’

‘Yes, really’, There was an edge of pride in her voice at this.

‘Good god, all that way?’

‘Yup’

A Fanta never tasted so good as we basked in her amazement. We were proper walkers now.

I had booked the hotel way back in the middle of winter. If I’m being honest what I initially booked was a night for two in the Chinese Restaurant in town. I thought they sounded a bit confused when I said I wanted a room with twin beds. This was an easy administrative error to make, which I’m sure most people will have done at some time. I’ve never felt the need to admit to this until now. Thankfully I spotted it and corrected my mistake. I eventually found a hotel in Aberporth, the chap on the other end of the phone was a little grumpy but took my booking for a twin room.