THE BITCHES

It had been some time since I visited Pembroke but with high winds and rain forecast for the north-west while the south of Wales was due to bask under blue skies, it seemed a good time to endure the drive south. We set out with aspirations to round St Davids Head, taking in Ramsey Island and, if things went well, take a sly look at the race between the two: The Bitches. 

It didn’t quite go to plan. Fog was not on the agenda. Neither were snakes. Needless to say, we got both.

Cloud cover at Abercastle made for a slow start as we loaded the boats, waiting for the sun and the tide to turn. On the water, the south going stream now in our favour and the sun burning through, things started well, the coastline immediately impressive, stacks, arches and caves all demanding attention.

That night, the fog closed completely, the air thick with water, though it seemed to be lifting in the morning by the time we launched, Ramsey Island doing its best to shrug off the blanket.

But crossing the sound, things deteriorated rapidly. We attempted the ferry glide anyway, nosing cautiously across the channel, heading for the northern tip of the island. But it seems it there is little scope for doing anything cautiously in Ramsey Sound and after paddling steadily on a bearing for longer than it should have taken to cross, with visibility less than 50 yards, it was time for one of those difficult decisions. We turned and began the ferry glide back, doubts crowding in. Were we where I thought we were? Had we been pushed much further north? Was that St David's Head looming out of the fog? In fact, on regaining the cliffs, we were no more than 300 yards north of where we started.

Paddling south, the fog cleared, though Ramsey remained hidden. We continued down through The Sound, leaving Ramsey for a day when it would be possible to see both the island and the RIBs which bore down on us at alarming speed out of the fog while offshore.

Exploring the coast, now heading for Porth Clais, we paddled deep into a cave where Chris spotted a strange fish wriggling on the surface. On closer inspection it appeared to be an adder, swimming strongly but unable to escape the water. It’s not every day you paddle out of a cave with a snake resting on the front hatch.

Seemingly none the worse for the experience, he slithered off among the rocks quickly enough. The adder, not Chris.