September | /Octoberrrrrrrrrrrr |
S | M | T | W | T | F | S |
24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | |
30 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |
14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |
21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 |
28 |
Saturday 29 September 2007--This morning I set out to take a walk on St Davids Head. It's not a hugely
ambitious hike, but I'm a little worried, as the nagging tendinitis in my left heel, which has been bothering me for months,
is getting worse. This is the first time on this trip that I will be trying to walk any distance at all, and I'm not sure
I'm going to be able to do it. I'm surprised, then, when I pull on my hiking boots, and the pain virtually disappears. It's
my everyday Reeboks that cause it! They're supposed to be my comfy shoes. They have, however, always been a little tight.
Off I go, from the car park at Whitesands Beach, with a spring in my step. The ramble around St Davids Head is pleasant enough, with nice views, the remnants of Iron Age fortifications at the tip, and a moderately impressive cromlech called Carreg Coetan Arthur, or Arthur's Quoit, along the trail. I loop back around and ascend Carn Llidi, a tiny peak at 595 feet, but rugged at the very top, affording a panoramic view over Whitesands Beach to the town beyond. Back down, I stroll the beach for a while, watching surfers and volunteer rescue squads on drill. I return to town and have a look at St Davids Cathedral, oddly tucked into a hollow below the village. I learn that St David was ordained by St Elvis, bishop of Munster, thank you very much. A choir is rehearsing with the organist; the reverberating sound is awesome. Next door, I examine the ruined Bishop's Palace in a steady drizzle. The stonework is fascinating, lots of use of contrasting stone patterns, hinting at the grand ostentation of the palace in its heyday. There is, of course, a website for St Davids Cathedral. The Farmers Arms is again elbow-to-elbow this evening, as Wales take on Fiji in Rugby World Cup action. The local favorites fall, 34-38, and the mood is dimmed. I decide to have dinner at the Old Cross Hotel, across the square (uh, triangle). But I return to the Farmers Arms to watch Scotland defeat Italy, 18-16, on six penalty kicks. The locals' enthusiasm for their Celtic brethren's thrilling victory is dampened by their own side's loss. Next |
September | /Octoberrrrrrrrrrrr |
S | M | T | W | T | F | S |
24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | |
30 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |
14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |
21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 |
28 |