Loneliness of the coast path walker (From Western Telegraph)

Loneliness of the coast path walker

Why do men climb mountains? Answer: because they are there. The reasons that led Western Telegraph reporter, Patrick Alexander, to tackle the 186-mile Pembrokeshire Coast Path were less philosophical.

Having successfully crammed the 14th Mars bar into the last remaining crevice of my rucksack, I slumped against the armchair to take stock of my preparations.

The well-stuffed rucksack contained everything I would need for an 11-day trek along the coast path, from tent and sleeping bag to cooking stove and wooden spoon. As I already owned most of the essentials (tent, sleeping bag, rucksack), the trip was going to be very cheap, almost cheaper, in fact, than staying at home. This more than any other factor (including the scenery, the exercise or the endless thinking time) was what made me choose the coast path for my holiday. Whether this decision was influenced by my rate of pay or by the well-known Scottish attitude towards money, I will leave for the reader to decide.

Planning the trip, from Amroth in the south to Poppit in the north, involved a fair bit of browsing through the National Park Authoritys accommodation guide, which had a very useful map and information about public toilets. For every self-respecting camper planning to traverse the path, public toilets should adopt the same level of importance that the North Star held for early sea voyagers. They will become as sacred to you as Stonehenge is to the druids and the time will come when you will spring to their defence with similar zealousness.

Despite recent reductions in toilet provision, Pembrokeshire is still very well served. Throughout my trip I found the doors locked just twice, both times obscenely early in the morning. Locked toilet doors are not the end of the world as there are many streams from which water bottles can be filled. Remember, anything you find floating around wide-eyed in your bottle is going to be far more scared of you than you are of it. Treat it kindly.

The rest of the planning time was spent trying to find food that was both practical to carry and edible. This is easier said than done as a large proportion of specialist camping food, although light as a feather and nutritionally balanced, tastes more like a particularly mature pair of camping socks rather than anything you would want to put anywhere near your tastebuds. Army rations are easy to carry and are palatable enough, although they have the unmistakable taste of something that has been stored in an armoured bunker for the past 50 years. Bachelors dehydrated foods (Savoury Rice, Pasta n Sauce and Super Noodles) formed the core of my provisions, supplemented by as many chocolate and cereal bars as I could cram into my bag.

Be warned, opportunities for hunting while on the path are limited and it is almost certain that any critter you do manage to bring down will be a protected species. Nothing takes the thrill out of a primal victory more than the arrival of a hit squad of badger rangers intent on dragging you through the courts. So, pack plenty of sensible little packets of easy-cook rice and take a little piece of civilisation with you to the great outdoors. The coast path ranges from the reasonably flat to the ridiculously steep so a decent pair of walking boots are essential for anyone who intends to make any serious progress along it. Given the Welsh weathers fondness for variety and surprise, it is also necessary to take something waterproof, something warm and something light for when the sun comes out. If you have a decent pair of boots and wear two pairs of thick hiking socks, your little toes might last as long as two days before they burst. It is a strange sensation and one for which it is best to be prepared, feeling, as it does, as if a large, ripe grape has somehow invaded your boot and come a cropper. Worry not, your feet will go through worse than that and on a trip of this kind, little toes would only slow you down; best leave them behind.

Your ears, however, are worth protecting and it is all too easy to miss them out of the ritual sun-block session which should take place before leaving the tent each morning. Failure to give the tops of your ears a liberal plastering with at least factor 20 sun-block for a few days in a row will lead to a degree of blistering that would make a rugby tighthead prop wince. While you will, no doubt, wish to return home looking a little windswept and sunkissed, little bits of ear-skin falling to the floor will impress no-one.

Other than an impressive tan and a rucksack full of socks that could stun a moose at 40 paces, you will want to return home with a selection of impressive photographs. For this to happen, you will need to carry the camera in your hip pocket. If you need to take your rucksack off to get to the camera you will short-change yourself on the pictures you take home. Even having the camera in my hip pocket led to me missing pictures of a fox who sauntered across the path in front of me for at least ten seconds before catching a whiff of me and bolting into the bushes while I rummaged fruitlessly.

To sum up, keep your feet dry, your belly full, your eyes open and your spirits up and the Pembrokeshire Coast Path will give you a holiday you will never forget.