High hopes for this Easter Break. Herself agreed we could go away on our own for 4 nights without Grumbles. I've had a site booked in the village of Cenarth, sitting on the boundary of Carmarthenshire, Pembrokeshire and Ceredigion in rural west Wales, also famous for its falls. The four weeks leading up to the break we've been under blue skies and sunshine. OK it's not been scorching hot, but it's still early spring. Three days before departure and we're back to normal, with almost continual rain and yellow weather warnings in place.
The van was in a sorry state too. The "winter" tows to both the Peak District and Cotswolds, as well as being sat below 2 wood burner flues over the dark months has ensured I'd be too ashamed to pull onto site with it tomorrow, so it gets inched out and given the good news with some snow foam, a brush and rinsed off with the Karcher (no where near the seams I may add before anyone has a heart attack) before being tucked back away until the morning.
Thursday 17 April
Expensive start to the long weekend away. In the last service, the engineer condemned the tyres on the van, nothing wrong with them of course, but the date stamp on them says they're now 7 years old. As soon as The Captain's buggered off to golf I get the van hitched up and make tracks to the garage and cry inside as the fitters get to work on removing the 4 perfectly good tyres, giving me puzzled looks while doing so.
With that pain out of the way I stop by at home to pick the dogs up before heading off into deepest, darkest west Wales. You see Herself is working and has a meeting in Carmarthen this afternoon. The plan was that she'd get a lift there and I'd double back to collect her after pitching the van and setting up camp. How convenient ....... again!
Having washed the van yesterday I spent the entire 41 mile tow studiously avoiding surface water, mud and cow shit on the roads, pulling into the site at just after 12pm. There's no reception here, just a welcoming sign instructing all to head up to the farm to check in. Another sign points up a steep single track lane to the farm which is over 1/2 mile away!
I try ringing, no answer, I try again, no answer and I try once more in vein. I log onto Pitchup and consult my booking, no info on there but a button says resend confirmation e mail. I didn't get one in the first place but pressed anyway.
The e mail says for caravans owners to dump the van on any vacant pitch before driving up to the farm. I did, and on arrival there's a sign informing anyone that they've popped out, and to take a key from the windowcill to gain access to the toilet block.
Setting up was an arduous process on my own, interrupted only by a call from Herself to say that her meeting had been cancelled and that Nursey was bringing her down. I've just finished swinging the lump hammer and I hear the gravel crunching. We is now arrived.
Neither of us have eaten yet today and are Hank Marvin, so an early tea is called for. One of Morrisons' takeaway banquet for two and the microwave come to the rescue, and at 5.30pm we're both in danger of falling asleep on the front benches.
We take a spin out and head towards Poppit Sands, where Afon Teifi meets Cardigan Bay. Never been here before, but it really is pleasant. We walked, Herself and her now very knackered knees hobbled, down onto the beach, and we take a stroll throwing a ball to knacker the dogs out.
We resist stopping off at the Teifi Waterside Hotel and its excellent beer garden (for tonight at least) and return to site to chill for the rest of the evening.
Friday 18 April
Proper mun when I wake up, and it takes all my resolve not to just say bugger it and go back to bed!
After a morning of tea, coffee and bacon butties cabin fever starts to set in, so waterproofs are thrown onto the back seat to head off out.
First stop is The Welsh Winds, a distillery just a few miles through the lanes from here. We did some sampling before deciding on a bottle of rum for me and gin for Herself.
The dogs need to let off some steam, so we follow the lanes to Mwnt, passing a house I built down here for a Bank Manager way back in 1993. It's still standing, so I'll chalk it down as a success! Pulling up in the grass carpark it's stopped raining briefly, but it's very blowy. Many brave souls are setting off for hikes in waterproofs and wooly hats. Herself didn't get out of Trude!
From there we follow the lanes to take in the delights of Gwbert. It's started raining again and the decent down to the beach from the car park would be described as "strenuous" in a hiker's guide. We didn't stop, instead heading back through Cardigan to the other side of the Teifi and Poppit sands.
Herself likes Poppit Sands. You see, her knees have deteriorated to such an extent she's now only a rubber stamp away from a Blue Badge! It's a flat walk to the beach from the car park and you're straight onto hard sand, which makes walking short distances doable for her.
We run the legs off the dogs, but the wind driven rain is stinging as it hits our chops and we're more than happy to be back in the heated comfort of Trude and heading back to Cenarth.
After a quick change of clothing the dogs get clipped on and we take the short stroll over to The White Hart Inn and settle down for the afternoon. The place is cheap, very cheap indeed. A large glass of house white coming in at only £5.25, and a locally brewed lager at just £4.40.
The Cardigan Brewery's website describes "Dai Bach" as
A Session Craft Lager—Light & Crisp Stored in the Fermenter longer for a full bodied taste but less alcohol - Hops used: Saaz
All I know is it was a bloody nice slurp, and I had far too many than is wise on an afternoon session! The landlady her also does crafts, which are on shelves dotted about the pub and are for sale. Herself was rather taken with a goblet, and asks me to take a look at the price tag. Just £8 it was and Herself is instructing me "I'll have that."
We're just a bit inebriated as we take the riverside walk back to site, wise decision or not remained to be seen!
People often ask me "Why caravanning? Why not a hotel?" Well one of the reasons is you can't do this in a hotel after a beach walk and an afternoon in the pub!
After a Dai Bach induced snooze I've dribble cascading down my chins onto my tee-shirt, the spectacle is one to rival the falls just a few meters upstream from the site. Thoughts turn to an evening meal.
The Ninja is pressed into action to warm up some tins of beans and sausages before we call it a day at 9pm, collapsing into the fixed bed.
Saturday 19 April
I slept soundly until 3am, but after a nighttime excursion to open the pressure relief valve I was wide awake and no further sleep would come. I sat up front for an hour or so and noted the rain had stopped. There is hope for the day ahead!
At 4.30am I returned to bed where sleep came once more. Herself was up with the dogs at 6.30am, by which time she informed me it was hammering down. By 8.30am when I got up for the second time we have a swimming pool feature in the sagging roof of the canopy!
We've plans for today after seeing a road sign yesterday, but first the dogs need a good run. Pulling into the car park at Poppit Sands we're happy to note the weather has improved. It's not raining and we even have a bit of sunshine, even if it's blowing a bit.
With the dogs worn out we head back into Cardigan. We'd I'd seen the sign yesterday, and even looked up the website which waxes lyrical ...
Barley Saturday has since the 19th Century, been held on the last Saturday in April – it is an unique event in Cardigan. Barley Saturday saw farmers from surrounding area come to town to hire workers and to inspect stallions that are put out to stud. These days the horses are the centre of attention. After the 11.30am, judging of various horse competitions, the crowds gather to watch the horses do their parade around the Cardigan at approximately 2pm. The horses are followed by of vintage cars, motorbikes, tractors, carriages, milk floats and gypsy wagons.
We parked up at Quay St Car Park and as we clip on the dogs we're very much looking forward to the spectacle. High Street is busy, and Herself is grimacing with every step. I know she's reached her limit, and with 2 hrs until the parade we dive into the Sports Bar at The Bell Hotel and procure a few pints of Cider.
We ask the barmaid if the parade passes here, as we could stay seated until the very last minute, saving Herself any unnecessary agony. She comments that it's next week! I check the picture that Herself took yesterday, and she's right. I also rechecked the website too. She's right again.
If it's any comfort she did remark that another two couples has also asked the same question! I think she was just patronising me.
We're just having a look around on our way back to Trude and my phone rings, it's Nelson asking if we minded having visitors? Turns out they're already on their way, so just the one courtyard with a wicker fox is explored before we head back to site and await their arrival.
Beastie and Bwmps arrive in no time, they also brought along their parents! We sit around for a bit before clipping on the dogs to take a stroll along the river, over the bridge and along the path up following the falls.
The cobbled path was too much for Herself's cartilage-less knees, so leaving them explore further we retreat the The White Hart Inn and wait their return.
Back at the van everyone gets fed before they head back home at Beastie and Bwmps' bed time.
Sunday 20 April
5.45 am and Herself prods me in the back.
"I'm awake now."
"So I see."
"Shall we go for a walk? Before it gets too busy."
I let out a long deep sigh, knowing I'm not going to be able to win this one. Another prod
"But I'm awake now."
At least she had the good grace to light a flame under the kettle and produce a pack of Hobnobs from the locker!
7am and we're cruising through St Dogmaels on the way to Poppit Sands, where under blue skies and in bright sunshine we have the beach virtually to ourselves.
The wind is biting though down here this early, and I've dew drops that even Siadwell would be proud of by the time we get back to Trude. With Nelson and Co having depleted our reserves last night we need some provisions. It's Easter Sunday though, and finding a shop open took some doing. Nothing in Cardigan at all, we've driven back through Cenarth and are in Newcastle Emlyn before we find a Morrisons Local that's serving.
Back on site a breakfast is thrown together, including cockles and lavabread, and devoured before Herself declares that she's tired and takes herself off back to bed for a few hours! I fire up the dodgy box and watch an episode of "The Take" starring Tom Hardy. It was good and I'll probably watch the rest at some point.
Not as windy here on site and the sun is hot this afternoon. The recliners get dragged out and we soak up some vitamin D and I may have fallen asleep at some point. Well I did actually and was woken up abruptly as I dropped my can, soaking my feet in the process.
We take the opportunity to drop the canopy and pack it away whilst dry and I take a walk drive up the hill to do something I've been meaning to do since we arrived, that is take an ariel photo of the site, please excuse the dirty caravan roof.
I drag Herself up the road to The White Hart. We take a table outside with some shade for the dogs, where we're watched eagerly by a one eyed cat, who's existence seems to rely on controlling the rat population around here.
We spend the next few hours debating whether we'll eat at the pub or back at the van, whilst gulping down a few Dai Bach's obviously! The van won, and after consuming enough to ensure Herself's knees are lubricated sufficiently we amble back at a leisurely pace and get tea on the go.
With everything squared away I drag the recliner out to enjoy the last of today's sunshine with a rum for company.
Monday 21 April
Great night's kip last night, so great in fact that Herself was unable to tolerate my snoring, instead trying to get some kip on the front bench having closed the two doors between! I wake up at 8.45am and Herself has been up some time and packed away everything inside ready for the off.
I jump into Trude to drive up to the farm and reception so that I can return the toilet block key before hitching up ready for the off. 9am and we're pulling out through the gate for an effortless and incident free tow home.
It's still quite early on a BH Monday morning, and the road outside Home is Where You Drag it Towers is quiet. I'm swinging the van round into the driveway using the mover when a blue Mazda rocks up and proceeds to lean on his horn. He continued to lean on it while gesticulating at me, obviously very annoyed at being delayed by me for about 15 seconds.
I turn to face him and he's still leaning so I start to approach him to see what his problem is. At this point he appears to panic, engages first and makes off hastily, bouncing over the kerb on the other side of the road. Maybe it had something to do with me swinging the motor mover wrench I was carrying? Who knows?
Mixed bag weatherwise, but a thoroughly relaxing few nights away. We walked the dogs a fair bit on the sands, had a few good drinks and we actually slept a lot.
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