May 30, 2015: Pentraeth Beach to Moelfre
Wonderful foliage lines the path between Pentraeth and Red Dwarf Bay.
A cooked breakfast was not an option at our Moeflre b&b but this was hardly missed as we sampled the freshly delivered breads and the homemade croissants, jams and jellies. A new cab company had been enlisted to take us back to Pentraeth beach at 9:30 and with our driver we discussed a pickup time for the next day, when we would be returned to Bangor Station for the journey home. It was a bright and brisk morning as we sped through the inland precincts of the coastal route we would be walking along in just a few minutes.
We were able to start our walk at 9:45, crossing the two stone bridges that mark this spot on Pentraeth Beach and, leaving the Afon Nodwydd behind us, we endured some mucky though level footing on a tidal road still wet from the retreating waters. The marshy territory presented us with quite a number of choices – where to put our dry feet next? On our left we had a number of cottages and streams and Naomi, who took many flower photos on her phone, was delighted to discover wild yellow iris growing in a streambed.
Gradually our direction shifted from a westerly to a northern one as we inched along the mushy margins of the shore, emerging at last on to a more solid footing at Porth Llondy Uchaf. Here we met a horsewoman, descending on a tarmac lane we would soon use, and she asked us about the footing ahead, trying to decide whether her huge brown animal would survive the muck. This horse was making a lot of noise but the rider explained that the animal was just answering some of her nearby equine pals.
We made at early stop at the Ship Inn, Red Dwarf Bay.
A coastal footpath was now on offer and we followed its twists and turns, with descending streams and high cliffs on our left and the sea out on our right, for several minutes before descending into the village of Red Wharf Bay itself. The much-touted Ship Inn was soon located and I prevailed on the others (including the ever-impatient Adrian) to wait the ten minutes for this establishment to open its doors at 11:00. We sat on benches out front and ate our daily installment of trail mix while an old gentleman kept an ancient Westie named Polo busy chasing his rubber balls. I had a Diet Coke when the doors opened and we had a nice rest, with lots of photos of local maritime history on the walls to keep us well-occupied.
After half an hour or so we continued our northerly march, continuing forward on tarmac and almost doubling back on ourselves to climb uphill. Near a caravan park we returned to a true coastal path, with the limestone block called Castell Mawr on our right. More caravans appeared as followed a well-marked footpath through the trees, pursuing a number of ups and downs and twists and turns often enclosed in deep foliage. A water treatment facility on our left was a sign that we were nearing our noontime goal, the quite sizeable town of Benllech. There was no great desire to leave the beachside portion of this town in search of a likely looking pub and we disdained some of the more louche outposts catering to the kids and their families here in their legions. Instead we persisted to the end of the enclave where we located a likely lunch spot, the Bay Café.
We found a corner table where I had a second Diet Coke and a prawn sandwich in Marie Rose sauce. The place was quite crowded and it was amusing to see a little kid dressed in the livery of the place trying to perfect his craft in clearing the tables. We had covered only half of our distance to this point and so, after using the loos, it was time to get a move on. If the morning had been sunny enough the afternoon was turning grayer and we certainly wanted to complete the day’s march before encountering any moisture.
After lunch in Benllech Naomi and I make our along the gentle ups and downs of the cliff path.
Our route now crossed in front of the café and climbed up to the sea cliffs. Here we resumed the same pattern of ups and downs, ins and outs that had dominated the morning’s march, but I would add that increasingly we shared our surfaces with large numbers of strollers, children and dogs. The latter, in particular, were omnipresent – they were having a great time on their outings and it would have been even greater had some of them been permitted to jump all over us as they were straining to do.
I was growing a bit weary at this point but the thick foliage prevented any opportunity of peeking ahead up the coastline or of gauging how far we had come. Finally we reached more open territory on the Penrhyn Peninsula as we began a descent at a cottage – Adrian speculated that this might once have been the “roofless ruin” described in the guidebook.
At the bottom of the hill we took to a tarmac road heading inland and, some two miles from our destination, I decided to conduct an experiment. We would now be sent on a merry but well sign-posted chase along lanes out into fields, down onto the shingle, up and down steep steps, past caravans and cottages, along roads and paths – in all I counted thirty-six changes of surface during this progress – so much for any notion that here we would be following a coastal footpath. I particularly resented being overtaken by footie-obsessed kids and their dogs and by the fact that, this close to the end, you could not actually see much of our destination, Moelfre.
Adrian and I agreed that our b&b was probably on the side of the village we were approaching but we were both surprised (happily) when at the end of a blind alley what should we discover right across the street but our evening restaurant, Ann’s Pantry. It was 3:35, we had walked seven and a half miles (45 in all on this trip) and to celebrate the successful completion of our walk we continued on down the hill for some liquid refreshment at the Kinmel Arms.
Then I returned to our b&b for a little rest and at 6:00 we all reported for dinner – both Naomi and I had the lamb chops, though I had enjoyed those served in Rhosneigr last year a bit more. There were by now just a few flecks of moisture in the air and they were present as well after another early night and a final b&b sleep. I brought my OS map with me to breakfast for I wanted to confer with our host on a plan I was already hatching for our third and final assault on the Anglesey Coastal Path next year. Adrian and I had been conferring on which of the guidebook stages seemed practical for us and which might have to be subdivided and I had discovered that three or four miles beyond Moelfre, a stretch we should be able to cover on arrival day, a PH symbol appeared on the map – a perfect pickup point for next year’s cabbie. Mike identified this at the Pilot Boat Inn in City Dulas and this was useful information if we wanted to avoid a long opening day. (In the event, we decided not to adopt this strategy.)
This year’s cabbie picked us up at 10:20 on Sunday, May 31st, and in half an hour we had been deposited at the Bangor train station. (A melancholy note was sounded when our driver, pointing to the Menai Bridge on our left, said that a local football player had plunged to his death here the day before.) We now had time for a second coffee in the crowded platform café and after half an hour we went outside to await the 11:22, a through-train to London.
We had no difficulty finding seats but the train was very crowded and the conductor kept getting people to move their luggage off the seats; screaming kids made it a less than restful journey and we were glad to reach Euston at 14:44 – after a very successful outing indeed. Naomi had noted that there was still a little trail mix left over and I suggested that we consume this en route – if only she would substitute the “l” in trailmix for a more appropriate “n”
To continue with this journey, which we resumed in 2016, you need: