Wild Camping in Wales

After I completed my horse-sitting assignment in the outskirts of Peterborough, I traveled back to London to meet up with a girl I had met by sheer good fortune named Sophie who lives in Hammersmith. Sophie is American and English, having grown up in England but still retains an "Americana vibe" that is easy for me to relate to and understand. Beyond that she enjoys surfing, camping, hiking, and all kinds of extreme sports I've never even considered but am now intrigued to try. She suggested we spend a few days in Wales, surfing and hiking along the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path, which is 186 miles along the far western coastline of Wales. It is unbelievably stunning coastline, rivaling any in California, the Mediterranean or even some in South East Asia that I have seen. What is more, is that it is such a well-kept secret even amongst Brits that the sprawling beaches are basically empty and the hillsides merely sprinkled in sheep.

Sophie packed her surfboard into her mint green VW car with plenty of "features" as Sophie described it's eccentricities, like having a different key for each car door. And I built a playlist that I called "Waves of Ephemera", thinking it apt and melodious enough for a raw Welsh coastline. The UK in late July of 2018 was experiencing a heatwave unlike any it had seen in 30+ years, and the usually lush, manicured fields and rolling, patchwork verdant countryside looked more like Oklahoma, all the grass was a dull wheat-brown and dry like California brush. The grass in London's most famous parks was all dead and uprooted in little heaps like a balding head but the government assured its citizens that it will come back. The British are famous for complaining about the weather, but this onslaught of heat seemed to strip them of even this capacity, as everyone seemed too dazed, sweaty and saturnine to even complain. This heatwave probably made for my disproportionate appreciation of Welsh beaches as the weather was so hot we were able to cliff jump and swim comfortably on mile long beaches we had entirely to ourselves.

We drove westward, setting our GPS to Pembrokeshire without any plans or bookings at all, but we had a carload of camping gear that Sophie had saved from her time backpacking around Patagonia. My recent adventures around Asia had instilled a new sense of spontaneity that embraced abandoning set plans for the unknown. We arrived at West Hook Farm Camping, near the village of Marloes as it was just getting twilight. This lonely looking stone farmhouse was adjacent to the Pembrokeshire coast path and had two large fields that allowed for drive up tent parking. We were on a slight slope with gorgeous views of the sea below us as the sun set.

By the time we arrived all the places that sold food nearby were shut so we made do out of a bag of chocolate cookies and half a bag of chips/crisps. The next morning we went for a delicious full breakfast at the local Beach Cafe in Marloes (not a full English in Wales! Best to remember this) where we both even proved brave enough to try a bite of black pudding, which was surprisingly good. I was excited to try the scrumptious little Welsh cakes that are on offer everywhere! After breakfast and some really top notch coffees we went for a long walk on the Pembrokeshire coast, walking south and soon coming across a vast, and empty beach where we changed into our swimsuits and swam in the bracing water. Sophie is preparing for a 10K swim so she did a swim down the water, explaining that she loves that shock feeling of getting into really cold water and then to start to enjoy it. I used my time to climb up on large columns of rocks and bathe in the sun. I actually got sunburned in Wales of all places for underestimating the heat.

That evening we bought a pizza from the local pizzaria Camille's, with somewhat low expectations. The pizza place turned out to be in the back of someone's private garden, with beautiful blooming flowers everywhere as you meandered through to a converted garden shed turned pizza hut. The pizza was made with only top of the line ingredients and it was incredible! We actually got two, and the goats cheese with pineapple was probably the best thing I've ever had. Who knew that such good food could be found in a small village garden in Wales?

We camped at West Hook Farm again that night but our jaunt down the Coastal Path led us to believe that wild camping would be pretty easy, if not illegal. We drove the car the next morning to the picturesque town of Solva, further north where the views were really unparalleled as we bought day parking and trekked upwards along the rugged coast, in the blazing sun towards the north. There were dozens of little coves and coastal villages all called "something-Haven", and we stopped to eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches en route. I was also forced to buy some organic suncream as we were both very burned at this point. Sophie was a bit disappointed there were no waves for surfing but we held out hope that as the week progressed there would be change. That afternoon we found a cove with lots of jutting out rocks for cliff jumping, and Sophie convinced me to take the plunge into the still-icy water and swim out to explore the rocks. The water was such an instant rush of cold that at first impact I was worried I wouldn't be able to breath and was hyperventilating a bit. But after a few moments of acclimatizing I admit that I did find it bracing and delightful. We swam and jumped and sat on rocky bits like the mermaids of Peter Pan, at least it felt that way to me. I had never swam anywhere so majestic and empty. The water was dazzlingly clear and further out appeared a dark, rich blue like soft velvet under the yellow sun. While high above us on the cliffs there were watchful, white sheep bawing at us. Sophie wondered what the name of the cove was but neither of us could get service to find out so I suggested we name it ourselves. We ended up naming it after Sophie's American grandmother in Minneapolis whom Sophie said would love this place for being like Lake Superior. So we named it Penny Cove. And by the time we returned to Sophie's car that evening we figured out which road would lead us close to it and gathered all our things to sneak down near the cove and wild camp. This proved to be magical and we were soon engulfed in a thick fog from the sea that made us a bit fearful of the strange noises creeping around the empty, dramatic landscape. But the tent was warm and comfortable and we slept through the night without any problems at all. At dawn I emerged to find the fog still settled with dew over everything around us with only the sound of the crashing waves in Penny Cove to indicate where the coast was in perspective to us. We quickly and carefully packed up all our gear and made for the car, feeling very dirty without a shower and our hair filled with salt, sunscreen and sweat.

That afternoon we drove further north along the trail towards Whitesands Beach where Sophie hoped there would be surf, but the waves still weren't there. The beach, however was huge and very tidal. Sophie went for a long swim there as I hiked to explore the area, then we met up again and hiked the other direction further north over moorlands, and the landscape changed to become increasingly wild. It was cloudy that day which was gentler on our sunburned skin and we got to see several seals poking their fat heads out of the water to look up at us with mirrored curiosity. The whole thing was too beautiful but we turned around in time to allow for enough time to get a jacket potato from the little cafe we'd parked by at Whitesands. Then we drove again to an isolated stretch we'd seen earlier, parked the car and sneaked down the trail with all our gear, like the hiking criminals we were, and wild camped in a cow pasture overlooking the sea. The sun set as we sipped on local craft beers we'd brought along and listened to Kishi Bashi on our speaker. It was enchanting.

The next day our hygiene levels had descended low enough that we sought out a campsite just to use their shower facilities. Sophie then wanted us to jump in the car to make a clean getaway but my guilty conscience made me go to the farm house door and wait as the old lady came to the door hopefully thinking we were going to camp. When I awkwardly explained we'd just used the showers and began digging into my purse for money I ended up holding up a 20 pound note ridiculously which made the old woman's kind-hearted smile turn into an incredulous frown and she said "well, it's normally just about 20 pence isn't it?" which caused me to become more awkward as I scrapped together some change and thrust it at her, basically running away. Sophie thought this story was hilarious and didn't let me forget it for the rest of the trip.

On this day we drove back south a bit away from Pembrokshire towards the Gower Peninsula. I did not have any expectations because I had been so awed by Pembrokeshire that I assumed nothing could compare to its natural splendor. I was so wrong. The sweeping beach of Rhosilli was unlike anything I had every imagined could exist in the UK. Wide, long and empty below huge cliffs, the extremely tidal beach was constantly revealing itself as a visual wonder and the best part was when we arrived there were waves! Sophie and I donned wetsuits and we headed down to the water, of course I was hopeless as the surfboard was too short for a newbie. But Sophie caught wave after wave after wave and I watched her for a bit from the shore do happy twirls off the board every time. I then went for a mini hike down the length of the beach and looked out over the windswept bluffs. Every sport was possible here, cliff jumping, rock climbing, surfing, swimming, hiking, etc. That night we ate a the pub overlooking the beach, bathed in the majestic sunset and then wild camped in a nearby sheep paddock overlooking a separate cove. The sky was filled with shoots or red and orange, so we kept our tent door open until it was completely dark.

On our last day in Wales we hiked up to the top of the mountain by Rhosilli beach where we encountered the World War II ruins of lookout towers and stunning views of the Peninsula. Then Sophie went for a swim while I thought about how life constantly offers unexpected adventures with kindred spirits and it is usually for the best to "say yes" to these opportunities that life offers. Then we drove back to London.