Laugharne – Tenby

The less said about last night the better. Let’s just say I was almost warm enough (disappointingly, my recent sleeping-bag refurbishment hasn’t achieved its objective), and I almost slept. My camping neighbour said there was a crunch in the grass when he got up, so it can’t have been much about zero. That makes me feel better. Anyway, fuelled by three bowls of muesli, and the energy of adventuring, I hit the road in good spirits.

I choose Tenby as a manageable day trip, hooking in the NT woodland gardens at Colby on the way. Good old Komoot (app) routes me SW along empty lanes. Occasional wind turbines loom, majestic white forests. If wind is truly the way forward I think I could embrace these awesome monsters.

The most impressive thing about National Trust Colby is the range of cakes. I eat the biggest piece (of supposed to be apple) cake I can see, with an A1 coffee. (It keeps me going for most of the rest of the day.) However, I can’t be persuaded to sign up for the Easter-egg hunt in which everyone else is participating – adults and children alike – all wearing Easter bunny headbands.

I find that on this occasion, I can’t relate to NT’s main offering – the extensive natural woodland and “hidden” valley. I am riding all day through such places, past displays of laneside spring flowers. And the Colby “wildflower meadow”, with fritillaries obviously just out of their nursery pots, seems more botanic zoo than authentic natural space. (Does Carmarthenshire even have meadows? I know we have to start somewhere, but the more I think about it the more nonsensical it looks.)

I descend to the coastal road at Wiseman’s Bridge and the density of holiday makers at the pub is hallucinatory. 

From here on, and including the wonderful tunnels into Saundersfoot, it is a bit intense – walls of shuffling families with no concept of shared right of way. At Saundersfoot I lower my eyes and peddle swiftly on. 

Tenby, on the other hand, a few miles on, is a delight. I thought I had visited it once before but it is very unfamiliar. 

Once again, it is a bit of a fight to get along the narrow streets. Leaving the bike alone for any of the time doesn’t seem wise, but I find a small garden overlooking the harbour, described as “a quiet space for use by the public”. Perfect. I sit with eyes closed for 20 minutes.

Caldey Island will have to be for another time. It’s mid afternoon and I need to start thinking about getting back to base. How to make that as easy as possible… And then I remember that there is a station. Cutting a corner is an attractive option – I haven’t recovered from yesterday’s ride and feel quite tired. At the station a 2-carriage train heading east is poised to depart. Happy days. I’m on it, and speeding through darkest Carmarthenshire to Whitland, 7 hilly miles from camp.

Back at the barn, after a beautiful ride looking across to the Prescelli Hills on the horizon, a dad is investigating his malfunctioning air mattress. I feel bad for him – I have been there. And I hate to break the news to his lovely lady that no, there is no Argos in this neck of the woods.

I head down to Laugharne, returning to “Poon’s Thai street food” restaurant. Not-so-cheap, but comfort, nosh, and a friendly vibe. I have a starter and main course. But, even after a follow-up coffee-and-walnut cake, I don’t feel full. Calorie deficit, or what?

Tomorrow’s forecast looks reasonable. I will have to decide whether to turn east…