Welsh dog-sitting holiday postponed by Leukaemia

Actually we thought it had been cancelled. Probably that I would be cancelled, too, but fate and good fortune intervened. For now, anyway, and Storm Amy be damned.

Above: Doting grandmother with friends; Saturday morning is a little more optimistic after tile-rattling winds in the middle of the night and everything looks enticing for Georgie's first walk.

I'm sure regular readers of my ramblings will be familiar with the joy that occurred with the birth of Niamh Ava Lyon on the 4th of December, 2024. Life had changed for ever after a long wait for her parents, our daughter, Kate, and her husband, Andrew, whose dad, Pete, and his wife, Sue, live in Australia on the Gold Coast.

Shelley-ann (Shan), Andrew's mum, Wendy, and I were the lucky ones as it was not recommended for babies to travel on long flights (eg. to Australia) for three months. But it was inevitable and we were more than happy that Niamh should be presented to Pete and Sue as soon as possible after that.

We were to share the joys of their delightful Parson Terrier, Georgie, with Wendy and her partner Mareike during the month the new parents would be in Australia. We decided we'd spend some of that time taking Georgie on a walking holiday in one of the most spectacular parts of the country that combines rugged beauty and a magnificent coastline punctuated by sandy beaches. We booked the St David's Long House (Tŷ Hir, Rhos-y-Cribed) for 7 nights, starting from the 21st of March.

Andrew, Kate and Niamh departed on the 28th of February.

​The Sh*t hit the fan

​I was rushed to hospital with suspected diverticulitis on the 5th of March and during the same 24 hours diagnosed with suspected Acute Myeloid Leukaemia (AML). On the 7th the diagnosis was confirmed following a bone marrow sample taken by a specialist from the Churchill Hospital.

It took a day or two for this to sink in and I contacted the owner of Tŷ Hir, Catrin Howkins, to say we'd not be able to take up our reservation and were content to forfeit the cost that had been paid in full. She was amazingly sympathetic and insisted that she'd hold the amount over until we could recommence our visit.

I explained the severity of the diagnosis and that we may never be able to go but she insisted on keeping it open for us.

In the meantime Shan asserted wisely that we should tell Kate and that she would phone her in Australia. Kate wanted to fly back immediately but my dear wife was able to talk her out of it and thereby bear the brunt of what was happening in our lives.

Above: (top, l-r) Niamh at 2 days day old, almost 7 months old, 10 months old and at Ty Hir in St David's eating mild curry; (below, (l-r) Andrew, Georgie and I walked into the city and first encountered the comprehensive ruins of the Bishop's palace and attempted to rationalise the Bishop's decision to build an even bigger cathedral in such a small community.

To cut a long story short that brunt was pretty awful for anyone to bear as I was useless and non compos mentis for much of the time and a couple of weeks in hospital became more than a couple of months with me being released into home-based palliative care on the 14th of May. I was administered antibiotics by drip every day for another 5 weeks and suddenly became "free".

Not entirely free because I would continue to have AML but I was still alive with a month or two to live. A second round of chemotherapy was ruled out as "just as likely to kill you as save you". So now it's mid October and I'm still going strong and we've just come back from a week in St David's! 

Whither do we wander? I really don't know. My chances of surviving this beast remain in the low single figure %s but we are going to seize the day and the rest of this story is about a week in which we set about doing this.

And now we are six

And circumstances have forced us to be spending four hours forging our way directly into 2025's first named storm: Storm Amy. Everyone around the Northern Atlantic has been battening down the hatches as my doughty Shan is peering into the gloom on the M4 and holding on to the steering wheel for dear life[1]. We are travelling to the extreme Western edge of the UK[2] with nothing other than Ireland breaking the force of the gale across the Atlantic from Newfoundland. Gusts of around 100 km/h are not infrequent the further West we travel.

Shan's glass(es) of wine that evening were richly deserved!

Above (l-r, top-bottom): the River Alun bisects the holy ground between the cathedral and the castle; cathedral seen from a "window' in the palace; an explanation of the Great Chamber; the Great Chamber as it is today; the room opposing the chamber where matters of state were carried out; view of the East range with the grassy courtyard.

​​St David, himself, died on the 1st of March, 589. Things are a bit hazy between then and 1115 when the first Norman Bishop, Bernard, was appointed and set about building the original cathedral. Anecdotally, an incumbent Pope declared the cathedral the second most important place for pilgrimage after St Peter's in Rome.

​Evidently, a couple of centuries later, Bishop Henry de Gower decided that a more handsome edifice was needed for someone of his status and commissioned the construction of the palace a short walk from the cathedral just across the River Alun. It consisted of an east range for his private domain and a south range for show and ceremony. It was here in the great hall that Bishop Henry dispensed justice, held feasts and welcomed distinguished pilgrims.

Legend has it that the Reformation, another 200 years later, saw the beginning of the palace's descent into ruin. In fact, evidently William Barlow, the first Protestant Bishop of St Davids, decided to strip the lead from the roof, bringing about a slow decline. Nevertheless, the ruins provide a majestic counterpoint to the cathedral and are worthy of a visit.

Of course, so is the cathedral, which includes, inter-alia, a sloping floor and a central tower that has fallen over twice during its lifetime. These have been attributed to gradual shifting of the earth beneath the structure itself.
​
​​Andrew's, Geogie's and my walk from Tŷ Hir was more or less parallel to the River Afun as it meanders a mile or two from the tiny city to the St Brides Bay and the sea at Porthclais Harbour. The Smallest City in the UK is an understatement with a population of 1,751 according to the most recent census 4 years ago, a number that is slightly down on the previous count 10 years earlier.

​The choice of great food and drink is way out of proportion to its population but more about that after a brief look at the modest walks we undertook from our cosy lodgings.

Above (l-r, top-bottom): Setting off on our coast to coast with St Brides Bay catching the morning light in the background; we encountered some similarities with the Western Cape (South Africa) in the juxtaposition of historic and modern; reached the other side and Whitesands Bay; a delighted Georgie free from her lead for a while; an external kazi reminiscent of the older Western Cape; ditto the houses[3] and the rocky outcrops.

​The vestiges of Storm Amy made walking on our first full day a little daunting but Andrew, Georgie the dog and I decided to brave it and walk into town, a distance of just over a mile. As is quite common in the British western parts the roads have centuries-old stone-wall-cum-hedgerow structures taller than a person and these, for the most part, protected us from the chilly wind and it wasn't too long before we were taking in the peripheral view of the palace and cathedral combo and contemplating a venue for lunch. The Farmer's Arms pub was first on our list but had closed its kitchen. A quick pint and we moved on to GRAIN for the most sumptuous pizzas and an eclectic list of beers, all of them seemingly good and different. A good collection of shops and interesting grocery establishments lured us back on several occasions.

Above (l-r, top-bottom): Kate and Niamh when our postponed holiday was confirmed; we've arrived and Kate and Andrew tuck in; Kate out walking; Shan and Georgie returning from Whitesands Bay.

​The "proper" walking begins

At least inasmuch as I could attempt in my temporary remission from Leukaemia. 

Our first was across country to a sandy beach at Whitesands Bay, the name being a bit of a giveaway. We had promised Georgie she could be let off her leash for a free run and her joy was worth the 5-mile round trip. I did manage the walk but staggered a bit on the last km.

The next day we did a pukka coastal path walk to another Geogie-friendly sandy beach. On the way we passed the St Non's cliff and Cathedral Cave. I have no idea who St Non[4] was but legend has it that St David was born at this spot. There is a small ruin there which might have been St David's birthplace but the Cave is the real cathedral, which hopefully one or two pics of our walk will demonstrate.

​I refrained from descending right down to the beach before turning back towards St David's due my legs being on fire but the others did before we walked into the city and The Bishops, another fine establishment for a hearty pub lunch and some local beer. I personally struggled to complete the last mile back to Tŷ Hir but the others all took the walk in their stride.

Above (l-r, top-bottom): the rugged coastline of Pembrokeshire from the mouth of the Alun to the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park with St Non's Cathedral (cave) in the middle ground; The estuary and small harbour at the mouth of the Alun; a view across the bay to St Brides and Skomer Island; close up of the cave; an inlet in St Non's Bay; the other 5 gambolling on Caerfai Bay beach; one sip into the reward of getting to St David's the long way around.

​​Last "big" walk

​Actually it wasn't a huge walk but three+two of us were keen to stroll out to the local RNLI St David's Lifeboat Station, a journey of 3.3 miles out and back and pretty gentle apart from descending and ascending to and from the beach to photograph the launching stations. It was worth it though and probably contributed a teeny bit to working off a sumptuous brunch I had had that morning of avo toast with poached eggs at the Brunch House in the city.

There are two lifeboat stations at the site. One looks as if it's really up to date and the other is a bit older but with an impressive wooden structure supporting it way above the beach below.

It seems there are boat trips from there to and around Ramsey Island. We could see the island a short distance away but had run out of time to avail ourselves of an hour or two travelling to/around it.

A bit more about food and drink in St David's

The following places caught our attention:

1. SANTOS TŶ TAPAS; really is as good as some of the better establishments in the Old Town of Donostia and even serves Burnt Cheesecake. A top notch Ribera de Duero available.
2. GRAIN; a quirky decor with mean pizzas and a beer list that requires more than one visit.
3. The Bishops: a proper pub with great food and a couple of local beers on tap.
4. The aforementioned Brunch House at the Oriel y Park Gallery and Visitor Centre.
5. A couple of fish and chip places that looked enticing but we didn't visit because one of us doesn't eat fish.
6. At least two delis that had some interesting stuff and the odd acceptable wine.
7. A groovy surf shop with very friendly staff and coffee.

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Above (l-r, top-bottom): the old lifeboat station; access to it from the cliff path; the new lifeboat station;
access to it from the cliff path; a "pleasure" boat returning from Ramsey Island and executing a bit of slalom, presumably for the passengers' thrills; a piece of the old village of Rhosson nearby.

The journey home

The 4-hour return journey seemed more gruelling than the outward trip forging its way into the teeth of Storm Amy. The traffic on the M4 around the major cities on the Welsh South Coast was pretty horrendous and Shan's back was in agony by the time we reached home. My aches and pains were trivial by comparison but nagging nonetheless.

We resolved that the travelling was worth it but, perhaps, at our age, a week's holiday should be extended at either end for interim luxury stops for the night ... and maybe take the more scenic routes in the process. Will I make another journey of this magnitude? Only time and the demon AML will tell!

Above: Last morning view from Tŷ Hir and Rhos y Cribed across St Brides Bay.

Endnotes

1. For a number of reasons, including AML, I am all but uninsurable. Driving a car would be a great folly.
2. ​Strictly speaking bits of Cornwall and Scotland stick out further but they were not in the path of the gale pummelling Wales.
3. During a subsequent telephone conversation with my old friend Mario, he reminded me that both the Western Cape and the West Coast of Wales were subject to strong winds and the similarities would probably be because of the use of gables that extended above the roofs to avoid the latter being torn off during a gale. A living encyclopaedia, my mate of around 60 years.
4. Actually there are some ideas that can be found here and that suggest she was St David's mother: https://www.stdavidscathedral.org.uk/discover/history/St-Non. Surely, if this is true, the whole place should be named St Non's and not pander to the male dominated view of those days of yore (and current ones, too, perhaps).