Day Twenty Six

Sunday 20 March – Upper Tumble to Carmarthen

A pattern was emerging. I'm on about the footpaths of Carmarthenshire again. If a path is across fields, away from causing any inconvenience, it is often marked. But if is, say, near a farm, or in any other way inconvenient, a conspiracy of silence comes into play. The council don't mark it, there are no stiles or gates, and landowner simply deny it existence. I was to meet this technique in action many times in the next couple of days.

Today's first footpath was admittedly in place and signed, but since this led from the main road to a housing estate in Tumble, this is hardly surprising. Tumble grew to accommodate workers in the Great Mountain Colliery, and I suspect it is the former colliery workings which have become the Mynydd Mawr Woodland Park. This is evidently still being developed.There were more paths through it than are shown on the map, but I soon found the one I was looking for, hopped over my first barbed wire of the day, and reached a road.

Across this, a handy footpath consisted (on the map) of a two farm tracks joined up by a path across a couple of fields. The first bit was signed and easy to follow. The linking section was non-existent, so I found my own way. As I approached the second farm, I saw a young woman with her hand on a recumbent cow. Getting nearer, I could see a calf sticking about half way out of the cow. The woman was agitated, with good reason, and she asked me what I was doing. I said I was trying to follow a footpath. “There's no footpath, and you are on private land,” she said. “If my mother sees you, she'll go mad. She pointed the way to the drive, and I walked towards it.

Up drove an older woman on a quad bike. Same question, same answer from me. And she was indeed mad, but not with me.“Oh,” she said, “we've had the council up here, and even they can't find a footpath!” I said I would leave by the drive, and she continued to moan about the situation, until suddenly she stopped, looked at me hard, and asked, “Are you strong? Can you pull?” I said yes, and she said, “Come on,” driving off towards the maternity ward. But when we got nearer, we could see that the calf had completed its journey into the world, and as I left it seemed to me that mother and son (bovine) were doing well, with mother and daughter (human) in attendance. I confess I was a bit disappointed: I would quite like to have been able to write here that I helped deliver a calf.

The next two and a half miles was on quiet lanes, so at least I was able to make faster progress. The next footpath – gasp! - was well marked and a joy to walk. Even the bridges were in place and in good condition. Admittedly the last few hundred yards were unsigned, but by now I was near enough to my next burst of peaceful road. There were no signs of the next path, except for a stile in slightly the wrong position. I found my way using the map and my phone (for GPS and Google Maps), and a wood above a stream was a lovely lunch spot.

After more traffic-free lanes, I turned on to a route marked with green crosses on the map, indicating a “byway open to all traffic.” Well, all traffic could tackle the first 100 yards on tarmac; after that, a four-wheel drive vehicle could tackle the boggy fields between frequent gates. Once the gates finish, you'd probably be better off switching to a tank! As for me, I hopped, plodded and climbed until I joined a driveway serving a few cottages, which ended at a main road. This had a pavement, and soon I could turn on to a minor road for the walk into Carmarthen.

I crossed the River Towy in the shadow of Carmarthen Castle, in the ruins of which stands County Hall, where they plan all that sterling work on footpath maintenance!

Carmarthen is about 8 miles from the Towy's mouth at Carmarthen Bay. The Romans built a fort here, on the site of the local tribal HQ, including an amphitheatre which partially survives. Then the Normans built a castle, which was pretty soon destroyed. The town was then walled, sacked, rebuilt and brought low by the Black Death. Merlin, King Arthur’s mentor, might have been born in a cave just outside the town. Or possibly not. What is more certain is that Carmarthen was affected by the industrialisation of the 19th Century much less than the areas further South and East. The town’s hopes for future commercial success depend largely on a new shopping centre opened last year.

The centre of the town was very quiet indeed on this Sunday afternoon. With the aid of my phone, I quickly found my b&b, passing my supper choice (Wetherspoon's, of course) on the way.