Had I not spent half the time wrapped in a T-shirt, two jumpers, two jackets, a scarf and hiking boots and still been shivering, it would have been the type of beach holiday sun worshippers dream of. Not that Tom minded the icy wind whipping across the Pembrokeshire beaches.
While I struggled to keep my blood flowing, he paraded out into the sea in sandals and garish board shorts, kayak over his shoulder, to catch some waves.
Anyway, my point is not about how cold it was — I became used to that after the first day camped out on the dunes with a good book and my camera — but how beautiful and sunny and pleasant Pembrokeshire was. A perfect holiday spot.
And away from the shore it really was springtime in Wales. Proper T-shirt weather.
We were on a four-night break, staying in St Davids.
Arriving four hours after setting off, we quickly located our holiday cottage. I say cottage, but this was a three-bedroom house, bigger and better than our own.
Newly refurbished and tastefully decorated, Poppy Cottage was new to Coastal Cottages for 2006. Just two families had signed the guest book, both in the fortnight prior to our stay. It had a well-equipped kitchen; spacious, bright bedrooms; a comfortable living area and good-sized bathroom. And there was plenty of hall space for my other half’s kayaking gear.
The lovely weather had us planning an activity-filled outdoors break, but the cottage hinted we shouldn’t take the good conditions for granted. It had a stereo, TV, DVD player, games console and board games. I prayed we would not need them.
No sooner were we in the cottage and we were out again. We headed to Whitesands, the nicest, nearest beach to St Davids. Tom was desperate to surf the waves, but I had my fingers crossed for not becoming a beached widow. I was in luck. The tide was low and the waves a mere ripple despite winds whipping across the sands.
Around us, families flew kites, walked dogs and dug in the sand. It was an ideal spot for some pre-summer fun, provided we kept moving.
The next morning, I didn’t have the luxury of waking up in a strange bed and wondering where I was. The bells made it clear.
Thanks to its cathedral, this town/village was granted city status by the Queen in 1995. The cathedral itself is relatively young at 900 years, but this was the site of Wales’s patron saint’s monastery, founded in the 6th Century. Don’t get me wrong, the cathedral and neighbouring Bishop’s Palace are architecturally beautiful and the history of Great Britain’s smallest city intriguing, but some mornings I wished I had the power of royal assent to shut up our great donging alarm clock.
On this particular morning, however, I was up and at ‘em, raring to go. We had booked ourselves on a boat tour around Ramsay Island, an RSPB-owned sanctuary.
With sporty, highly-trendy bright yellow oilskins, we boarded the vessel for our voyage of discovery.
It was going to be fun and hopefully shut my water-sports-mad other half up for a few hours. The trip itself went well beyond these simple expectations — I knew there was a chance of spotting seals and some rare birds, but I was really just along for the ride.
Out at the infamous Bitches — a cluster of rocks that have wrecked many a ship, and also host an annual kayaking contest — our skipper and guide eyed the water’s surface and decided conditions were perfect for porpoise spotting.
Then, there they were, tiny dolphin-like creatures breaking through the waves momentarily in twos and threes, their fins glistening in the sun. We couldn’t grab our cameras quick enough.
Still brimming with excitement, we reached the shore of the island, our guides filling us in on the wildlife and geology. No sooner had I calmed down enough to listen properly than my eyes fell on a beach of many colours.
But the surface wasn’t made up of rocks and pebbles, it was covered in adolescent Atlantic grey seals, tussling on the land and splashing in the water. I went through a spool-and-a-half trying to shoot these curious creatures.
For me, that was the highlight of the holiday. I can only imagine how special it would have been had I been a twitcher, with the kittiwakes, oystercatchers, guillemots, gannets, buzzards, razorbills and peregrine falcons added.
Satisfied, I was now ready to have the holiday hijacked by the paddler in my life.
The next few days were spent seeking out waves. The surf could have been bigger while we were there, but the Pembrokeshire bays are good for the sport when conditions are right.
On the way to and from the beaches at Freshwater West and Newgale, I was kept happy with the chance to strip off the layers and visit Pembroke, the county town Haverfordwest, which has everything a tourist could need, and pretty villages dotted along the coast.
Back in St Davids, we enjoyed a tourist walk, which was supposed to take us past sights of interest, but other than the cathedral and Bishop’s Palace, most were hidden from view as we trekked between fields and along wooded paths.
Nonetheless, it was a pleasant walk and as much as we could do in terms of exploring the tiny city.
Exploring the pubs wasn’t difficult either — there was only one. A few hotels had public bars and there were a couple of restaurants with wine bars — one boasting the most delicious homemade Italian ice cream and a cappuccino bar — but, as far as we could see, St Davids has just one standard pub.
So our nights ended either there or on the sofa with a glass of wine — nothing too strenuous, for the fresh seaside air had knocked all the energy out of me.
To round our short break off, we upped the pace and headed to Pembrokeshire’s theme park, Oakwood — definitely one to keep the adrenaline junkies happy — which now boast’s the UK’s first beyond-vertical rollercoaster.
An exhilarating end to a relaxing, refreshing short break.
Jaclyn McFadyen visited Pembrokeshire courtesy of Coastal Cottages: (01437) 765765, e-mail info@coastalcottages.co.uk or www.coastalcottages.co.uk
Prices vary according to cottage size and location, but the company has been offering deals from £99 for a four-night break.
By Jaclyn McFadyen
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