We’ve realised we’re not used to coming away in peak season. What’s prompted that realisation is us now starting the day by trying to book somewhere for tea, and then heading in that direction if achieved.
Not going well again at the start of today with attempted bookings at:
The Brewery Inn, Cosheston – voicemail message “we are booked up all week”
Milton Brewery Inn, Milton – closed because the building is falling down around us (source: https://www.westerntelegraph.co.uk/news/19910918.milton-brewery-closes-alleging-buildings-falling/)
Grain, St David’s – “sorry fully booked for tonight & tomorrow. Maybe risk a walk in earlier on?”
We’ve eventually managed to book a table at the St Govans Inn, in Bosherston), so that’s where we’ll head today! No bad thing, as that means Stack Rocks, the Lilly Ponds, puffin & seal potential.
After a long wait for Romeo to come down from his Juliette Balcony, we eventually got going and headed south east via Pembroke Dock, but give the fuel light had com on we dreaded having to stick diesel in the van. It’s got a very big tank, so with fuel prices as they’ve been it can be a £145 fill-up.
Spotting a Texaco, I reluctantly turned in, expecting £1.90+ litre , but was delighted to see £1.76. Happy days, so I did fill to the brim, avoiding the need to stop until we get home on Friday evening.
Off the main roads, and down the wiggly-windies again, until we reached the tank crossing & headed across the Castlemartin Firing Range. Over the years we’ve parked up and watch tank & infantry exercises, with the best being the firing of live shells out into the sea. With a good pair of binocs & a keen eye, you can see them hit the sea on a clear day.
At the end of the road, literally, is the Stack Rocks car park, where we stopped, and the key to the Van finally snapped.
It’s a design fault on the flip-out key fobs and is a PITA (pain in the arse) to sort. The Amazon or EBay copies have differing locking pin sizes, so for our model it requires ‘fettling’. I can get it to work in the short term, but we do have a spare back at the cottage, if needed.
Anyway, we sorted that and then headed out with Captain Miserable in tow, heading for the sheer, vertical cliffs, needles & arches of Stack Rocks.
I think the last time we were here was with Jane’s Dad, my Mum & Dad & my Auntie & Uncle, Judith & Frank. Charlie was a toddler, and we’ve a raft of embarrassing photos of him, ready for when required. What I will divulgeHe used to have a ‘poo-light’ – a birthmark on his scalp that ‘lit up’ when he’d filled or was filling his nappy. Quite a handy feature at the time, tbh.
The coastline here is once again different to other areas with another change in the geology. The Carboniferous Limestone is being worn away by the crashing waves, meaning cracks appear, they can then join either side to create an arch (the Green Bridge of Wales being the nearest example from the car park), the top of which eventually collapses to leave the ‘stack’ – a pillar of rock.
I hope Mr Smith, my ‘O’ Level geography teacher would be proud of me. He definitely encouraged my love of physical geography (you can stick yer human geog up you’re arse, though), with it’s mohorovic discontinuities, thalwegs and dry adiabatic lapse rates!
We had a good old wander around the coastline, adding more Choughs, Razorbills, Fulmars, Guillemots, Black Back & Herring Gulls & Cormorants to our spotted list, as they swooped around the cliff faces.
And on top of that we once again saw loads of seals. We’re pretty sure they are grey seals, which are some of the rarer species in Northern European seas, with their pups being born right about now, accounting for white ones we’ve seen – as they turn mottled grey after a month.
on this one.
Having had our fill of vertigo for the day, we decided to head over to Broadhaven 2 (South), but as we parked up, we saw our first raindrops of the holiday, although they were light and lasted about 5 minutes. So instead we had a moral argument about paying for a parking ticket.
My view was shouted down on the basis that a) the machine didn’t take cards; b) we didn’t have £3 in change; c) there wasn’t enough internet connection to pay using the app; and d) we were parked for about 15 minutes maximum.
On that basis, I still protested however as we are using facilities run by the National Trust and the payment helps other sites not just covering our limited use of the car park. As such, I refused to stay any longer and we headed back towards St Govans where we were due to eat.
Although the table was only booked for 6pm, and at the point we parked up it was 5:30, we decided to go in and eat earlier and/or have a pint.
Stepping out of the van onto the verge next to the tea shop & garden, I managed to step in some dogshit. Annoyingly there was plenty to step on. As dog owners ourselves, we cannot understand how people don’t pick up their own dogs turds. It’s disgusting. Good news was that my shoe soles were turd-friendly and it was an easy clean up, thankfully.
It turned out that the pub only started taking food orders at 6pm, and it also seemed that other diners knew that, so we’re getting orders ready and we’re limbering up ready for the 6pm sprint to the ordering terminal. I wound up my knee spring, stretched my various sections of Achilles & readied myself.
Delighted to say, I came second in the bullrush & our orders soon arrived from the kitchen. Jane made the best decision having the Cawl, with cheese & bread. I wish I’d copied her as it looked & smelled superb, and having tasted it later, it was a great choice.
Cawl, if you’re not familiar is a cross between a soup & a stew, classically made from pheasant meat, but typically now chicken and/or lamb, with the expected base veg (potatoes, carrots, leeks, onion, parsnip), but the twist being you then add mature Caerphilly cheese to the bowl as it’s served. Bloody lovely!
Food eaten, and with Captain Miserable reaching new heights (due to a complete lack of internet/working Wifi), we paid up, dodged the dog-crap, and then headed “home”.
Only to spot that Romeo, whilst left alone last night, must have spilled some of his pizza when taking it out of the top oven, and it’s dribbled into the door of the bottom oven. Between the outer glass and one of the inner panels.
So I sit here having stripped down an oven door, cleaned it, then reassembled it. I’m having a beer. It’s deserved!
Night folks,
Chris
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