Day Twenty Seven

Monday 21 March – Carmarthen to St Clears

This was to be a short day's walk. Taking the main road would have made it even shorter, but my objective was to keep to the back doubles and avoid the A40. Carmarthen's shopping streets were waking up to the new week. I bought a very posh-looking (and, as it later proved, delicious) baguette for my lunch, and set off. As it was in the town, I was expecting that the first footpath of the day would prove actually to exist, even in sight of County Hall, and so it did. Despite the sprouting of a huge new Tesco's, the path squeezed past it with an athletics ground on the other side.

I crossed some allotments, exchanging weather talk with an early attendee, who was smoking rather than actually digging. He said he didn't like to start any big jobs in case the weather changed. This was a bit strange, as the forecast was for settled conditions throughout the week. Perhaps he just needed an excuse.

Then it was roadside pavements for a while, traffic heading into town building up at every junction. I decided to follow signs for National Cycle Route 4, which was heading in my general direction. Once over the railway – the branch for West Wales – the NCR and I turned Westwards on to a road which started as suburban and then became a rural lane with very little traffic. The lane climbed steeply, then levelled out above a valley which looks on the map as though it ought to have a river in it, when all it actually has is a few streams, along with the railway and the main road.

There were decisions to be taken. NCR4 would obviously stick to tarmac, while I had envisaged wandering off on to footpaths for part of my journey. But after my less-than-happy experiences of Carmarthenshire footpaths so far, the temptation was to stick to the lanes. I decided to be influenced by the amount of road traffic and the existence, or not, of signs for the footpaths. As it turned out, there was almost none of either.

In about six miles, I saw fewer than six cars, and no trucks. A few tractors in the fields, but they don't count. Equally, wherever I might have been tempted to turn off on to a footpath, there was no trace of one. I lie – there was one, heading in the wrong direction. But after a while I stopped caring and stuck to the traffic-free lane.

After a grey start, the cloud was breaking up and, following a watery overture, the sun came out in full strength. Even this early in the year, it turns from cold to warm as soon as the sun appears. I unzipped layers. The countryside round here is workaday. The fields are green enough, but not specially interesting. The farms are businesslike rather than picturesque. The lane passed through a nature reserve which, while all it consisted of was a narrow strip of trees either side of the tarmac, nonetheless made a nice change from the uniform hedges and fences. The air here is clean, so lichens and mosses grow in profusion.

Then I snapped. Glancing at the map, I noticed a straightforward-looking footpath heading down the valley in the direction I was heading. Admittedly, the lane and NCR4 were heading in the same direction, but I'd had enough tarmac. Of course the path was unsigned. It started as a driveway to a farm. Indeed, it went right up to the door of a very impressive white farmhouse. There was no sign of life, and a dog somewhere indoors made only half-hearted attempts to do its duty and scare me away. I found the relevant track leading away from the farmyard into the field, and followed some tractor ruts along the top of several fields, counting as I went. Only to reach the last field did I need to clamber through a hedgerow, there being no gate or other gap. The hedge was puny, and I was quickly through it and across the field to pick up another track for a few yards back to a lane – actually the lane I had briefly diverted from.

After a bit more tarmac-walking, I stopped to eat my fancy baguette, and then I looked for another footpath. I was obviously getting cocky, having successfully followed one path. Amazingly, the next one was signed at the road, waymarked at frequent intervals, and came with a full complement of stiles in good condition. Admittedly, it didn't follow the line on the map – it was on the wrong side of the hedge for a start – but I wasn't about to quibble.

Where the lane would deliver NCR4 on to the main road for the last mile into St Clears, my path would take me across the River Dewi Fawr on a farm bridge, for a quieter walk into the village. I realised why the path was so well kept when I spotted some additional signs: this is part of the county's network of coastal trails (St Clears is the lowest bridging point over the River Taf), so as a promoted route it probably gets more attention than all the other footpath orphans.

The very fine Motte (grassy mound) of the former castle stood in my way; I respectfully found my way round it, and headed for the centre of the village. I had been through here before, when I was doing my coast walk; I might well have walked the footpath I had just left, but I remembered almost nothing about St Clears. The A40 rushes past in a cutting, leaving the main crossroads in the village peaceful. Temporary traffic lights for roadworks calmed the traffic even more, so I sauntered across to the shop for supplies, and then went off to find my overnight billet.

I was staying in the Travelodge, by a roundabout on the outskirts of the village. Having had a short walk, I arrived at twenty to three. I was greeted by a friendly young woman, who informed me that if I checked in immediately, it would cost me an extra ten pounds (check in at regular prices starts at three o'clock). As I had actually obtained the fabled £19 charge for my room, I wasn't about to add 50%, so I asked the woman if I could sit in the foyer until three, which she readily agreed to. We exchanged desultory conversation about the weather – the sun had gone behind cloud again, and it was feeling much cooler – and after a few minutes she weakened and let me check in. I notice that you can also check out late for another ten quid. I wasn't planning to take them up on that offer either.