Off on Offa’s – Prestatyn to Bodfari

In the last blog the first photo was a map of the area I was walking. This contained the hidden message. The map was from Google and there were two other tabs open at the top which, if you read them across, spelt ‘You can kiss my arse’. Funny that eh?

The first stage of the Offa’s Dyke Path today and it’s going to be a warm one. I upped tent, bought a sandwich at Tesco for later and found a great cafe for brunchfast. 

It’s difficult to imagine how you can beat chips with a full English, and two cups of tea. Full as a fat person might be I set off up into the hills with Offa’s Dyke badges cast into the pavement. 

Christ it was steep. And long. There was a fret over the sea but it was clearing in the sun. As I got higher the views became more spectacular. I’d never rated Prestatyn, with it being a seaside town for Scousers, but it was very pleasant. 

At the top of the first hill Snowdonia opened up to the west, still slightly shrouded in mist. Fabulous views in these hills.

And a 1920s sophisticated lady looks permanently out to sea, waiting for Freddy to come back on his yacht with a jaunty smile and a jug of Pimms. “Marry Freddy?” That’s what happens when you let a woman in your life and grow accustomed to her face. Aaah. The long ago miracles of vinyl. Other worlds leaping out of the Dansette and taking you away with the stars. My Nan singing along as she dusted her small terraced house with the voice of an angel. Well, she sang with the voice of an angel but dusted the house with a duster. Eliza, fetch my slippers. 

The path cut over the top and inland, revealing the Clwydian Range of hills. There was no-one else on the path and it was peaceful, but hot and rollercoastering over hill and down valley. 

Today was a 12 mile jaunt which I thought would take four hours. It took 7. I sweated like a pig lugging that rucksack around. I wondered if I was getting too old for this caper. But the views and the peacefulness were worth the effort. 

South Pacific. There was a film. There is nothing like a dame, nothing in the world. There is nothing you can name, that is anything like a dame. 

The A55 runs across North Wales joining northern and central England to Holyhead and ferries to Ireland. You can see it in the bottom of the valley in the photo above. The A55 not Holyhead.

The smells are amazing, much like the skylark songs and the vistas. There were huge banks of gorse in full bloom, identifying themselves to the sightless with fragrance. 

Ooooooh! To the sightless with fragrance sergeant-major. Getting all poetic are we, you orrible little man. Eventually the path ran down into Bodfari and the first house was Bellavista. Spanish for beautiful view; and it was. The owners were just getting in their car and pointed me in the direction of the Station Caravan site, which they thought was great and they hadn’t heard of the one I had earmarked. Not a good sign in a small village. 

So I went to the Station, they allowed tents as well as caravans, I pitched mine up and had a great ham sandwich in the local pub. A long and sweaty day but only 165 miles of Offa’s Dyke left. Sleep well my dears.

Night night.