Slova (Wales) | Rising From the Ashes - Day 78

I was asleep when the wind hit last night. The rain was still falling on my tent, consistent and light. However, the wind was slapping across the top of my tent. The noise woke me. I put my hand up and could feel the force of the wind pushing against me. I turned on my headlamp and check my tent's bathtub (i.e., the interior floor). Everything is dry; I am pleased. When I was in Ireland, I took my tent for granted and woke up in a puddle of water. I don't want that to happen again. After twenty minutes or so, the rain ends, and finally, the wind dies off. I soon fall back asleep. 

I'm startled by the wind again sometime later. This time the rain is pounding on the tent. The wind hits my tent so hard that the tent's left side is pushed against me. I turn on the headlamp again. I am still dry. I grab the side of the tent and hold it down, hoping to steady the slapping of the wind. I set up my tent to face the wind; however, it appears the wind has shifted; it is now blowing across my tent from the left. I have an ultralightweight single-wall tent (see picture below), but I doubt it was built to withstand these kinds of winds. The wind and rain are punishing my tent. I don't know how long my tent will hold up against this untamed beast. Then I hear it. A loud POP comes from the back of the tent, and the tent comes crashing down on my face.

Finally, the rain lets up, and I hear zippers and car doors opening in the distance. I need to assess the damage. The bathtub is dry, which is good. I unzip the tent and notice the vestibule has also collapsed, exposing my boots and rucksack. It has been raining in my left boot, which is now lying on its side. It is soaked on the inside. I put it on and start my inspection. Two of my tent stakes pulled out, which was the POP sound I heard from the tension being released. Everything else is in great shape. Some of my gear is pretty soaked. Fortunately, I carry a dry bag inside my rucksack, so all my essential equipment is dry, minus my left boot.

I look around and notice everyone in the campground is assessing their tents, pounding stakes, and moving their cars to serve as wind blocks. I surveyed the campground and remembered a hedgerow I had passed earlier because it wasn't flat enough. I grab my rucksack and other gear from under the vestibule, then return to my collapsed tent. After pulling all my stakes, I grab the entire bundle under my arm and relocate my tent without emptying it. A bonus of using a small, lightweight tent. 

After stabilizing his tent, my new neighbor walks over to check on me. "You alright?" I'm good, what time is it? "It's around 3 am. The weather report said 35 mph winds, but I think it was stronger," he says. How are you and your family holding up? "Great. The main tent is rated for 60 mph. The living area took a beating, but I got it re-staked. All good now." He answers. We call it a night, and both turn in. I eventually learned from another day hiker the winds we closer to 50 mph.

The rain stops around 830 am, and the stillness wakes me. I check the weather app, I need to break camp and have a small window to do it before the rain resumes. I pack my wet tent and gear, have breakfast, throw on my wet pack and head down the trail a bit past 9 am. My destination today is Solva, Wales. The hike is around 12 mi (20 km). I reflect on the events of the night. What an awful night! I am grateful for my little tent. It did great! This is the view as I leave the campground for the morning.

 

The hike is scenic; however, with the current weather conditions, it is challenging to take a good picture. The clouds are heavy and low this morning. So, I take one of the gates I must navigate along this coastal hike. Most are standard swinging gates. However, there is also this annoying version (pictured below). I call them backpacker traps and absolutely despise them. To navigate this gate, I must first get parallel with the gate. Then back into the U-box, as I swing the gate past me. Then I can proceed forward to the other side. However, sometimes the U-box is too shallow, and I have had to lift my pack over the gate. They are a real pain in my ass!

A few hours into my hike, I pass Rickets Head, one of the morning's most scenic points. I laugh as I look for the trail. Oh, it turns straight uphill here. 

 

I've realized that the Welsh have not discovered the benefits of building trails using switchbacks. Instead, the trails are built straight up and down the slope. This requires much more effort to navigate when carrying a pack like mine. Notably, to prevent erosion when the hill is too steep, they build stairs.  However, these require even more effort to navigate. The unruly steps remind me of the Manitou Incline in Colorado, where the steps are so steep and tall that I had to use both my hands to climb up some steps. A tremendous physical challenge if ever you are in Manitou Springs, Colorado!

 

As I near Slova, I enter a recent burn. I can still see hot spots smoldering despite the rain last night. Fortunately, the trail is still passable. As I pass a family on the trail with their beach gear. The patriarch says, "You are color-coordinated! Even your beard matches!" I laugh out loud at his comment and tell him cheers. I laugh partially because he is right. I'm hiking in drab grey-green pants, a grey shirt, with a green-grey rucksack. My beard is primarily grey now. I enjoy hiking in drab colors. It makes me less conspicuous on the trail.

As I walk through the burn, I notice lots of small white spots in the burn area. As I take a moment, I notice they are burnt snail shells. Two thoughts come to mind immediately: first, there are a lot of snails in this landscape that I don't see; second, I wonder how long it will take for snails to recolonize this area completely void of them. 

It is incredibly uncommon for the coast to burn in Wales. Most people I encounter say it is due to Climate Change and the hot, dry year that is outside of the norm in Wales.

Once I make it through the first burn and descend towards the beach, I take a break and drop my rucksack. After working out the stiffness in my neck, a pair of women day-hikers close to my age stop to chat as they pass by. We talk about the burn. They want to know if they can drop to Newgale Beach (in the picture above). I let them know I had already looked, only cliffs here. The shorter of the two is named Esta and lives in Bristol. She takes a Holiday every year in Wales. I tell her how impressed I was with Bristol and Wales during my travels. We part ways, and Esta jokes that I will probably pass them on the way to Newgale, their destination for the day. Esta is in the lead in the picture below and is about to start up some unruly stairs.

 

Newgale is the halfway point for my hike today; I've covered 5.7 mi (9 km), and it's a quarter past noon. I decide to stop at the yellow building of the Duke of Edinburgh for lunch. I find a plug to charge my phone while I have lunch. Esta and her friend walk in as my food arrives. "I told you it was him," her friend says. We all laugh. One recognized my pack, the other my clothes. 

Esta stops to chat. "You are a brilliant phoenix," she says. I felt like she could see right through my drab attire for a moment. "You are the first traveler I have encountered since Brexit and Covid. You are inspiring me to travel again," she says. I thank her for the beautiful compliment. She has no idea about my past experiences. I am rising from the ashes in more ways than she knows, and I am humbled by her powerful compliment. It resonates loudly with me today.

She tells me how much she misses traveling. We briefly discuss destinations and British politics. Brexit was the wrong decision, and I have yet to encounter a person in the United Kingdom who thinks it was a good move. Most feel they were misled by the British Government. Esta believes Northern Ireland and Scotland will soon leave the United Kingdom because of it. I agree with her. I encourage Esta to renew her passport and to start traveling again before she rejoins her friend outside. Below is a picture of Newgale Beach, which is nearly 2 miles (5 km) long. You can also see the burned areas in the back of the photo.

This stretch of the trail is not easy and very strenuous. This stretch has more steep ups and downs than I've experienced thus far. I remember a lady at the Duke telling me the climb out of Newgale was just a baby hill. She was right. I rest at the bottom of a hill leading to another secluded beach.

Shortly after, I continue down the trail. The clouds finally lift.

I can see Slova off in the distance. I'm still 2.0 mi short of my destination. The rain finally starts. I am surprised it held off this long. I am already saturated from the humidity. However, I decide it is far worse to be soaking wet from the rain. So, I pull out my rain gear, and put it on. I think, this will make the humidity more unbearable.

Along my descent into Slova harbor; I can't believe the leaves are falling off the trees already. Then I remember it is the end of August. Most days, I find it hard to remember which day let alone which date. I finally make my way around the very long Slova harbor.

I arrive at my campground and am instantly impressed. The universe provides again. "We sure can take a coastal walker without reservations." the kind lady serving as the camp host says. The campground has free untimed hot showers, laundry facilities, electricity to charge my phone, and free WiFi. All this convenience for a measly 10 quids, well, 15 if you count laundry. I am humbled and grateful to be blessed with such kindness. I waste no time. I take a hot shower, change into dry clothes, and throw all my wet and stinky laundry in the wash. Then I sit back and enjoy this beautiful sunset. It is the only one I've seen on this trip. What a fantastic spectacle!