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Pembrokeshire Coastal Path | Day Three

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Living life on the wine, and the edge

We’ve started! As always, I got battered the day before and start the trip off with a hazy brain. As expected, the hike is hard and the days are long; the elevation, particularly at the start of the trail is mental, but the views are spectacular.

At the time of writing, we are only three days in, and have already found a routine in which we stop after about four hours of hiking in order to sit on the side of the trail and drink wine. Like, who do we think we are?

On the first day, we missed our target (Newport) by a mile or so, but had to stop as the sun was shrinking in the sky. We found a nice place to camp, whereby I immediately slipped off the cliff and dad had to unfortunately put down his cup of wine in order to make any attempt to save my actual life. I imagine the inconvenience was real.

When I say nice place to camp, what I really mean is a bed of loose rocks, where I had my feet up on a mound of stinging nettles and thorns, and father’s legs were simply dangling precariously off the cliff edge. We both utilised a pile of shale for a pillow. Honestly, I’ve never found his snoring more comforting; knowing he hadn’t fallen into the sea in the middle of the night.

In contrast to that level of success, I managed to light the gas canister with fucking flint (because I forgot a lighter) and I’ve never been more empowered in my life. We also brushed our teeth the next morning with stream water; we really are embodying this nomad lifestyle already.

On a diet of noodles and the equivalent of three bottles of wine on the first day, energy levels were low by the second. I’ve been hallucinating, and the old man has been falling asleep everywhere. I blame delirium as the reason why we managed to find a Tesco to stock up at, but only came out with a single box of white wine rather than any essentials; a lighter, food, water…

One of the highlights so far has been seeing a colony of seals washed up in one of the coves. Apparently it’s birthing season this time of year, and unfortunately we had just missed witnessing the delivery of a fluffy bright white baby. They are actually massive though when they come out the womb so actually that sight might have been a bit harrowing to watch.

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Pembrokeshire Coastal Path | Day Two

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Pembrokeshire Coastal Path | Day One

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Pembrokeshire Coastal Path 2021 Mutha Fuckas

Oh hello lifelong fans. Here we are again. We’re taking on the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path this time; almost 200 miles, and 11,000m elevation. This is a hike one needs to be prepared for, right?

I’ve been a lazy shit; I will partly blame it on COVID, but will also blame it on my want to lie in bed summoning Deliveroo takeaways and being horizontal for the last three months.

Father, on the other hand, has been smashing out 20 mile day hikes, ending in wholesome evenings under the stars consuming hallucinogenics and not pissing in his pants.

Needless to say, he is much more prepared.

Here’s to another memorable hike! All the highlights will be posted here sporadically, as always, and daily movements will be uploaded to Strava.

Fucking good luck to us.

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North Downs Way | Day Two

Link to see detailed route on Strava:

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North Downs Way | Day One

Link to see detailed route on Strava:

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School shoes & bare bums

This story starts like every other story. I am very disorganised, we get wasted the night before, I am hungover, I convince everyone it’s ok to hike in socks, dad convinces everyone he can cope, someone forgets something... honestly, I sound like a broken record.

The old man forgot his fucking walking boots. Notoriously the item in which you have to break in, and become comfortable with, significantly before the main event. The shoes he had opted to wear on the drive down from Manchester to Surrey, were his school shoes, because they “fitted with his outfit”. Wearing these for the entire hike was genuinely one of his options. They do not fit with his hiking outfit.

We detoured to Go Outdoors on Friday morning to purchase some walking boots, because I simply cannot have him hiking in his leather finish, ankle length, charcoal flavoured Chelsea boots.

We purchased some boots, and needless to say, after a few miles of walking, he has blisters on his feet, the size of his feet.

Cut to present day, 28 miles later, and I am performing plastic surgery on said blisters, trying to piece back together the skin which has inadvertently fallen away from his body in excessive amounts.

I thought the first two days of this trip were fairly uneventful, walking though miles of flat forest without a view in sight, until...

I turned around and unwillingly saw my fathers bare white arse staring back at me as he went for an alfresco shit in the bushes. He looked like a large child without a nappy. He describes the event as successful, despite the fact he unknowingly pissed all over his shorts as he was doing his business. At the time, he was embarrassed, and I felt sorry for him and I could empathise. But now, as I write this, I cannot breathe, for the joy and hilarity it has bestowed upon me is too much to ever express in words.

The rain has been sporadic, and frustrating at times, but we’re currently in the comfort of the tent drinking wine and living our best life.

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Offa’s Dyke: Day Ten

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Offa’s Dyke: Day Nine

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Trenchbody & electrocuting horses.

I’m not even gonna beat around the bush about this; I electrocuted a horse the other night. I’m not proud. An incredibly friendly horse came to say hi, and as I was stroking his face, an unknown part of my body touched an electric fence and a powerful shock flashed through both of us. We both suffered very different symptoms, however. While I had a dead arm for quite some time, the horse generated quite a lot of energy and proceeded to sprint several laps of the field. The most harrowing thing is, I captured it on film.

Being electrocuted has been a theme during this trip, seemingly. I recall walking on a very thin path of dried cow shit, in between an electric fence and sloppy cow shit when we took a wrong turning one time. I kept losing my balance, and as I fell toward the cow shit in slow motion, I actively opted to reach out and save myself by clutching the electric fence. The things we do to avoid falling in faeces.

We’ve made it to Llangollen for our rest day, and the old mans birthday. Three cheers for him, he’s “59 don’t you know”. It’s a beautiful place, but the rain last night was so relentless the tent couldn’t handle it much longer and we woke up essentially drowning. Everything I own is sodden.

We have three days of hiking to go before we reach the end, and the weather forecast suggests we also have three days of relentless rain. What’s the whole body version of trenchfoot? Trenchbody? This could be interesting.

Finally, an update on injuries; I have two swollen tendons (probably a product of walking barefoot...) and dad pulled his calf muscle just as we were getting near to Llangollen. My toenail still hasn’t grown back. We both have extremely weathered faces. Hopefully after resting today, we should be fresh to take on the final few days!

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Whereabouts are you today? (8 may) Which town? So we can look at map.

We’re in Llangollen!

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