Land’s Abrupt End, St Davids, Pembrokeshire

Pembrokeshire juts like Wale’s chin right out into the Atlantic, at the southern end of the Irish Sea. The land here ends abruptly, dropping like a stone down sheer cliff faces into the sea. Last night we very much knew where we were, high up in a rather exposed position! After a couple of days where sunshine battled showers the wind and rain won, blowing up and coming straight in from the sea. Howling away, the weather gods shoved and pushed as we tried to sleep. Even with the steady legs down and (luckily) facing directly into the prevailing wind, it was hard to kip. Over a bleary-eyed breakfast I supped a brew, sat in the van’s passenger seat, turned to face back into the van as it usually it when we’re parked up. The windscreen behind me fogged up, raindrops steadily falling down the outside. Only the sloping grass fields were visible, the broad blue of the sea beyond has gone. Nope, it’s not a good day for exploring folks, but it’s a great day for blogging.

That was our third night here at Caerfai Bay campsite (N51.872658, W5.26082). We’re about a mile south of St Davids (there is no apostrophe, I’ve no idea why not), and just a stone’s throw from the 186-mile coastal path which runs right past the site entrance.

Saturday morning’s Parkrun at Haverfordwest was on an old racecourse, which was last used around a hundred years ago. As we run around part of it, you could imagine the horse charging along between the hedges. Our campsite was perfectly placed just across the park from the start and finish. After our morning bout of exercise and shower, we drove here via the town’s Tesco. There’s a CK supermarket in St Davids, so we could get everything we need here, but we’d eyeballed Tescos on Google Maps and it had a huge car park. Very handy for parking a motorhome up in without feeling bad for taking up two spaces.

The A487 brought us all the way here. Not a fast road in this lumbering boat. Sometimes winding and a tad narrow in places, even a tad steep when it crawled back up from the impressive Newgale, but it only really got tight on the final stretch of road into the site. We could have sworn the grass wafted both sides of the van at once. At least we thought so until we saw the rows of static caravans and realised it couldn’t have been that narrow. There are some skilful drivers out there squeezing a truck laden with a small house down roads like that.

Pembrokeshire is awash with cracking campsites. As the road drops down to Newgale Beach you’re treated to a drone’s view of one sat just behind the sea, protected by a wall of loose stones. We’d have been tempted to pull on the handbrake but we were already booked in here. There’s a ton of choice, and we’re finding the Pembrokeshire coast rivals that of the Gower while having cheaper campsites. We need to be home in a week or so, but we’re already thinking we’ll head back down this way at some point. It’s a beautiful and peaceful part of the world, although we guess it’ll be rammed come summer.

We opted for Caerfai Bay as it’s close both the sea and the city, had great reviews on all the usual websites, wasn’t too expensive and had availability. Just. The website said they were full on the Saturday night when we wanted to arrive but Ju called them and they found us a spot. Only when we arrived did we realise the Tour of Pembrokeshire was on, and the site was awash with cyclists staying here to take part. They gradually returned in ones and twos, marked out with numbers attached to handlebars, looking surprisingly fresh after hilly rides of up to 105 miles.

By Sunday afternoon half the pitches were empty. As Ju went out running I sat out front people watching, enjoying the warmth of the sun, wondering what all the noise was about. I could hear whistling and sing-song noises from a motorhome to one side of our pitch and slowly realised it was likely coming from a parrot. I guess I’d not have sussed this out if we hadn’t met a couple of full-timers travelling with a parrot (called Ozzie) in Sicily. I nipped over and asked if I could have a look, the couple very kindly introducing to me to their African Grey sat in a cage outside. She was enjoying being stroked, in between chewing chunks of fresh apple. I forgot to ask her name (or the names of her owners), but learned she could say over 600 words, including telling the dog to “get down”!

I’m unable to run at the moment, having done both my feet in running too much these past few months, but we’re able to walk a few miles together, into the city and along the coastal path. Starting with the first, despite being little bigger than a village, St Davids became a city in 1995. I was under the impression anywhere with a cathedral automatically became a city but nope, that’s not right. A town becomes a city if the monarch says so, that’s all there is to it. And becoming a city is just a sort of municipal ego thing (more in this BBC article), it doesn’t change anything about how the place works, access to funds, taxation etc (although I’m guessing it’s handy for tourism).

It’s a pleasant little place to wander, complete with a chippy and a butchers. We spent most of our time in the cathedral and visitor’s centre, both fascinating places with lots of information plaques to explain what you’re resting your eyes on. I recall reading Ken Follet’s The Pillars of the Earth about a cathedral being built. Although that was in medieval England, rather than Wales, it really got across how hard it was to get these huge buildings completed. Managing the politics, raising vast sums of money, dealing with design and collapses and sourcing building material. A nigh-on impossible job, but they got it done. This particular building has the added interest of slowly sinking at one end. I looked this up after we’d left, as it felt like I was walking uphill along the nave!

Out on the coastal path we’ve had a nose around the bay adjacent to the site (time your visit, when the tide’s in there is no sand). Walking west brings you to the small stone ruins which mark the spot St David was supposed to be born, on a cliff-top during a storm no less. The cliff views along this section are huge, really impressive. Further along there’s the small harbour of Porthclais, now a resting place for small pleasure craft but once the domain of the Vikings.

The sea around here looks crystal clear. We passed a chap off out from the site for an hour’s sea swimming and asked him about the temperature after seeing a few folks splashing about without wetsuits. His advice was to get suited up. I’ve left my wetsuit and snorkelling kit at home to make room for the Jackery and I’m regretting it! I’d love to get some snorkelling done around here. The suit I have is quite thick with a hood, plus I’ve some old gloves, which have been enough to keep me warm swimming in the Arctic (in spring at least). We’ve been on hook-up for much of this trip as the fridge has been playing up on gas, so apart from being a bit of nerdy fun, the Jackery’s and the solar panels been of no use. Ah well, next time.

The weather’s cleared up a fair bit now and we can see ships moored up in the huge bay in front of us, with the thin line of Skomer Island in the background. We’re guessing they’re waiting to enter Milford Haven (I say guessing, but Ju has been eyeing them up on her ship tracker app). More rain is forecast, so we’re expected to be cooped up in the van for much of the day. It’s days like this we really appreciate having a larger vehicle. There have been some very cool-looking VW campers knocking around in here, both modern and classic. They look easy to drive and set up (and probably use half the fuel this thing does), but they don’t look so great when the rain’s coming in sideways. Plus Zagan’s still only 6m long, so he’s not a large motorhome by any stretch.

So, the plan’s now to head over to a cliff-top site near Fishguard tomorrow for a couple of nights. We’ve been able to book in online (lots of sites around here seem to use the same online availability and booking system) so know we have a place. After that we’ll head north along the coast, maybe to New Quay, before turning back east and across central Wales to head back home to Nottingham. That’s the plan at least!

Cheers, Jay