Sheltered behind the old coastguard building we munched Kurdish pasties from Kurmang, the baker in Blaenau Ffestiniog. Warming and filling - yum. A Devil’s Coach-Horse beetle came to investigate, its tail raised scorpion-like, but we had none to share. From here we could see Parys Mountain near Holyhead and to the south what looked like Pembrokeshire. With binoculars we think we saw the mountains in Ireland. Wicklow?
Choughs choughing or chowing galore and gannets swooping over the waves – no chance of spotting dolphins in all that surf. However, in a sheltered cove, a pair of seals; male and female? No sign of a pup but were the plaintive moans her labour pains?
Five hours later we made it to the beach at Aberdaron and walked through the waves into the sea; bit of a shock to begin with but a great swim. Dried off at the top of the beach; no wind here, the heat of the sun stored in the sea wall and the sand. Not a goose bump in sight. Tea, Bara Brith and home – memories are made for days like this.