Saturday, May 30, 2009

Good things come

Whitesands - 6.00 a.m. this morning.

Yesterday was one of those days.

The builders turned up to re roof the cottage and within a few hours there were mutterings of 'asbestos' and  'major work' required. Then we went to collect the car - major work required there too; won't be ready for another week.  Never mind, I'm going backpacking with Dan in the Preselis - not so quick, he's stubbed his toe and it looks very nasty. By now, I'm beyond frustration; I'll have a quiet day writing at home - BANG - the electricity blows and along with it, the wireless router.  Aghhhhh!

By six in the evening I get the router working again - and manage a comment on Exmoor Jane's blog - commiserating as she's had a rough day too. Soon after, Emyr our builder tells me he's found a 'work around' to the roof problem and all will be well.  And just as the sun is dipping below the trees Dan says, 'How about we camp out at St David's Head.'  

We arrived for the last hour of light. There were hundreds of butterflies - painted ladies - more than I have ever seen.  They migrate from North Africa, often following routes of only a few yards wide - Pembrokeshire Birds reported over 3000 an hour passing yesterday.  As the light faded skiens of sheerwaters headed towards Skomer, keeping low over the water to avoid the gulls. 

Another group of ladies were at the headland too; singing and worshiping, watching the sunset. They left as we pitched our tent in the gathering dark. A perfect crescent moon lit the headland, the stars beginning to show. Dan decided to sleep in the open, every so often he'd say 'another shooting star.' He told me this morning he kept track of time by watching the Plough rotate round the Pole Star - resourceful chap.

We woke at 5.30 this morning (yes, 5.30), the beach deserted, the Painted Ladies still flying through, a porpoise in the Sound. As I made tea, four choughs hovered on the breeze at Porth Melgan. Thirty minutes later we struck camp and walked slowly back to the car, watching the morning begin.

Good things come...

No comments:

Post a Comment