Date walked: 15th August 2015
Distance: around 14 miles
Map used: OS Explorer 264: Vale of Clwyd and OS Explorer 265 Clwydian Range
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I had stayed last night at Gwesty Glyndawr. I won’t be staying there again. I thought the safest breakfast was a bacon butty, which was fine.
It was a fresh morning, windy and sunny: invigorating. Just what I needed. A spit of sand stretched out into the distance, sandwiched between the grey shingle beach and the grey sea and sky.
For about three miles the path shares a cycle way, separated from a large caravan park by the railway line.
Way off shore, dozens of wind turbines were making their modest contribution to the National Grid, no doubt causing havoc to marine bird life in the process.
There is only so much fun you can have on a beach (discuss) so the caravan park dwellers have Kinghtly’s Famous Fun Park on hand in case no one can face another game of sandy cricket or football.
I didn’t really take in what this massive sign addressing cyclists was about; I presumed it was some kind of safety thing.
Over to the left of me was the Kinmel Dunes Nature Reserve. I opted to walk on top of the path wall for a while in hope of seeing some nature but was disappointed.
Approaching Rhyl, the path takes a dramatic twist inland, borrowing the Pont y Ddraig…..
…. to cross over the River Clwyd……
….and then re-assuming its promenade character into Rhyl.
A few hopeful fishermen had turned their back on the sea in hope of luck in fresher waters.
I’m sure that Rhyl has its good points but it wasn’t selling them very well.
The gulls were making the most of the paddling pool, though….
…..and on the beach, the ever-optimistic detectorists were waving their wands over the empty beach, hoping to create some magic.
It was difficult to believe that this was the height of the summer holidays. According to the map I passed the Sun Centre without noticing.
This may seem bleak but I was perfectly happy to be marching along, enjoying the sound of the waves breaking onto the concrete-stepped defences.
I passed a little group of striking turnstones (I think).
Not much further along, a warning sign with plastic bouquets attached were a reminder that coasts can be dangerous places.
I don’t know if I had been sent into a trance by the the sound of the sea but it seems that I passed by Prestatyn without taking any pictures; the next thing I recoded was walking through the Gronant dunes.
The path reaches the shore and as the tide was out I thought I would take the firmer surface of the beach. Here death was presented in several forms.
A seal.
An oddly shaped balloon.
And a gull.
Three were lots of gulls on Presthaven Sands, just standing around as gulls do.
I found myself on the seaward side of a marsh that was just too squishy and lush to contemplate crossing to get back to the shore and although the map might have encouraged me just to carry on, I took Falstaff’s advice and doubled back to the beach.
I was rewarded with more death.
I could see from sight and from my map that the beach would offer a secure surface again so had a pleasant mile, beckoned on by the Point of Ayr lighthouse. As I approached a couple of riders were trying unsuccessfully to get their animals to go into the sea. All they were prepared to do was paddle.
Suddenly this felt like a very significant moment in this two-and-a bit year project. This was the last open sea on my path (and the most northerly point of mainland Wales); I was about to enter the Dee Estuary and the lighthouse was a very clear marker of this turning point.
As if to emphasise this change of direction, a tall way-marking post pointed the route off the beach.
After the curious little settlement of Talacre, the sea was now replaced by the marshes of the Point of Ayr Nature reserve.
The topography of the estuary dictated a brief sharp right turn, skirting two sides of the gas terminal.
Passing through a path of scrubby woodland, my attention was caught by a monkey which had been hung very deliberately from a branch of a tree.
The path follows the railway line that I had been walking by on or off for several days before taking an underpass….
… and then heading across a field towards the village of Ffynnongroyw. It had been a long day and I did not want to miss my pub, so my anxiety rose a little as I walked down the main street passing several watering holes. The Linegar Inn was the very last building, just set back from the A548.
It was round 4 when I arrived. My room was facing a courtyard at the back; I loved it.
Contemporary, spacious, comfortable and the large bathroom had a bath. Time for a cup of tea, a leisurely soak and a snooze before supper. Perfect.
Later: although I was very happy with my room, the main part of the pub was just awful. Bare floors, a massive TV dominating the room, nasty musak playing and it had no real beer. I was shocked. I was glad that it was still relatively warm outside so I had my (perfectly nice) burger at a table outside with a couple of glasses of Chardonnay. How can people get things so wrong?
What no comments ! It is a breathless walk – were you conciously speeding up toward the finish line ? I like the distressed lighthouse – very textural and indicative of the weather it must face season on season.
Well, a few now! Thanks for yours. I might have been rushing the writing of it up; I don’t remember speeding up as I walked. Yes, I see your point about the lighthouse.
Paul bemoans the lack of comments. When I read this post this morning (Sunday) and reached your “significant moment” my first thought was that if I didn’t comment, maybe, somehow, your walk would last a bit longer. In this 2+ year coastal walk we’ve had life, death, playtime, vistas, fences, caravan parks, a diversion from Porthcawl to Cornwall, ….. ; a broad experience that none of your other walks could deliver. Do we have one or two instalments left before I stick that label on my new watering can in tribute? And will a breakfast of bacon and a dinner of burger bring forward the demise that the killjoys who would have us eat nothing but Brussels sprouts predict?
As your link will indicate, that lighthouse will probably be left to disintegrate into a wreck. And a bit of history will be lost. The road to nowhere will go on being a road to nowhere. And we will go on being thankful that someone walked the walk and photo-ed the photo. And missed that run-down Sun Centre. Though the people of Prestatyn may never forgive you.
And maybe those bare floors were a response to the number of walkers calling in with muddy boots ….. Easier to clean than carpets.
Thanks, John, for your extended contribution!Indeed it has been a wide-ranging experience. But don’t forget the sheep. We,like sheep,…..
Two instalments to come!I hope you enjoy them. You will be mentioned in despatches.Yes, I indulge myself with much unhealthy eating when walking.
I thought you were quite poetic here. I gather the Sun Centre is closed. Come to think of it I think I did pass a big building that was being refurbished.
Nope, those floors were not for walkers benefit. Walkers like decent beer.
“I love a good gas terminal”
Love it – one of your best. Xxx
Why thanks, love. High praise indeed.
Do you tell your B&B hosts that you are writing a blog, or just a select few of them?
The hanging monkey was a great spot – wild-eyed with anger at having his drum pinched, but ready to whack anyone who ties to pinch his ball. Great.
Good question. I seldom tell anyone. Which is silly as it would guarantee some extra visits. I thought many times that I should leave one of my blog business cards on the pillow when I leave. Too late now! Yeah the monkey. Almost surreal.
I’ve sometimes mentioned that I write a blog to B&B owners but all they want me to do, really, is post on Trip Adviser (I don’t). What a day? Death, gas terminals and a frankly scary monkey. Was the latter a warning of some kind do you think? Like a shrunken head? It is a jungle out there, Charles – do be careful. I can’t say I share your love of gas terminals but I like that you like them and that they make you happy and I look forward to more examples. (Not bothered with the dead animals though, ta). Dave