I had a fitful nights sleep, as always, when I know I have to get up early. I wake up long before my alarm is due to go off, as usual. I swing my legs off the bed and take a shower, and trying not to wake Carolynn. 04:53 and I’m pulling out of the drive on my way once again to Pembrokeshire. Four hours sleep and in front, a four hour drive.

The traffic’s light and I make good time and arrive at Pembroke Dock railway station car park at 08:56. And at 08:59 the taxi arrives to take me to Milford Haven and the place I finished at, nearly two years ago. Happily it was at a Costa café so the first ten minutes of the walk was spent drinking a decaf medium latte. Decaf, I can hear you say. You don’t drink much alcohol, you gave up smoking 22 years ago, you try and eat reasonably healthily (with the exception of cake), you’ve never taken drugs, so why have you given up the one last addiction… caffeine? Well I read a NHS article that stated Raynaud’s Syndrome can be made worse if you drink caffeine. So I thought I’d try to detox my caffeine intake and see what affect it has. It’s my last real vice so if after three or four months it has no affect, I’ll definitely be going back to it, although I have to admit caffeine free tea and coffee tastes no different than normal tea and coffee. The only thing that worries me now, is god forbid, that I’m persuaded ever to turn vegan. I could turn vegan like Penny from The Big Bang Theory, she’s vegan but ‘loves steak, I mean really loves steak’!

I appear to have deviated from the subject. Costa, had my decaf coffee and starting putting one foot in front of the other. My destination by the end of the following day is about six kilometres, as the crow flies. More to the point I’d have to swim across the Milford Haven estuary, dodging oil tankers as I swam, so not exactly flying. So I’m going to take the easier route around the estuary, 47 kilometres. I’m guided by razor wire topped eight foot fences as I walk through, what must be one of the most highly contentious (excluding nuclear power stations) industries at this moment in time… the oil industry! I have to say that I find it fascinating. Jetties that are over two kilometres long, with two or three ships either unloading crude or loading refined product. Storage units that must take up one or two kilometres square, but the biggest of all the Valero Oil Refinery, dominating the southern shore of the estuary adjacent to the gas powered Pwllcrochan Power Station.

I walk between the eight foot razor topped fence and estuary for 10 or so kilometres, sometimes ushered through fully enclosed wire mesh bridges crossing the immense pipes that the oil is transported through, I get the feeling that my presence here isn’t really welcome, just tolerated!

After being hemmed in by razor topped fences, I’m now hemmed in, in a different way… Road walking and a lot of it to come. It’s at the beginning of the road walking that I stop and talk to a local. With her pink hooped bag and funny looking walking stick, she’s quite obviously litter picking, in fact she’s just waiting for the rest of her work colleagues to arrive. I mention her, and our conversation, because she works for Valero and explains that the company contributes a great deal to the local economy and provides funding for many of the surrounding communities. She was about to spend two or three hours, along with some other work colleagues litter picking on and around the beach… I can hear you saying, ‘that’s very community minded of her’, but this is done during working hours and fully paid for be Valero. These big multi-national companies do, in some cases have a softer underbelly. I know it’s to keep the locals sweet. I don’t have a problem with that, you scratch my back!!!

I take the Cleddau Bridge across the estuary from Neyland to Pembroke Ferry. It’s a shame that the ferry is no longer there, the bridge is functional, that’s about all I can say about it. A ferry would have made the crossing more in keeping with the coast path and there’s something quite romantic about crossing the water in a bygone way. I walked through Pembroke Dock, where there were still many remnants of its Naval military history, a town bigger than Pembroke town, itself, but as with many small towns in the present climate many of the shops were boarded up and its centre looked in need of some tlc.

The path wandered by the side of the Pembroke River to the county town of Pembroke, straight back to the 11th Century! Dominating the town was Pembroke Castle, built in 1093 and the birth place of Henry VII. It was early afternoon and I was near the end of my first days walk, so I sat and daydreamed, staring at the castle wondering what secrets it hid. An elderly woman passed me and stopped by the seat I was sat on and said ‘it’s beautiful, isn’t it’ I certainly couldn’t disagree. a piece of history that’s been there nearly a millennium and looked as if it could survive another. I doubt the same could be said of the more modern type of castles in the area, although they are far larger than the castle I was looking at, they don’t look as if they belong, they look unwieldily and out of place as they pump out their black gold, down innumerous silver pipes and light the night sky up with their gas flares. Mother Nature has a wonderful way of destroying a manmade eyesore, once their usefulness has passed and I’m sure that the oil refinery and storage facilities around the Milford Haven Estuary will not even be a footnote in the journals, unlike the castle that sits in front of me, having dominated its surroundings for nearly a thousand years.

The next day I walk the last section of the Milford Haven Estuary. The path is little used, I suspect because it’s not what most people would call the most scenic section. But as I’ve said I quite like the contrast of the heavy industry and the countryside. I walked for two kilometres alongside the oil refineries jetty, where two ships were unloading their raw product. As I walk along this section of the coast approaching the Pwllcrochan Power Station, a the deep humming sound of its generator gets louder as does the roaring noise of the Valero refinery gas flares and neither recede until I get halfway round Angle Bay.

The village of Angle was a natural lunch stop… a pint went down effortlessly as I sat surrounded by a loud loquacious group of thirty somethingsand their yapping dog a signal I think, for me to move on. The final few kilometres were the most tranquil as I wandered into West Angle Bay, my destination, and a cream tea that had my name on it, followed by an ice cream, that should have also had my name on it!