Pembrokeshire Coast Path : Part I

I know I’ve mentioned my walk in Pembrokeshire more than once, and it was a few years ago now, but I recently unearthed my diary of the walk and, magazine material being as hard to come by as it is, I thought why not serialise it for the faithful readers!

“I’m going to walk the Pembrokeshire Coast Path”.  That’s what I had decided and that’s what I had been telling people who asked where my next holiday was going to be.  South Wales sounded a bit anti-climactic after Ecuador and Madagascar but I fancied a different kind of challenge and this one was 186 miles of official route and an overall ascent the equivalent of Everest, carrying a tent, cooking equipment and as little clothing and food as possible on my back.  To walk the coast path was my aim.  Perhaps to state, so confidently, that I would was a little presumptuous.

I set off from Poppit Sands car park at 3 pm on the first of June (1998), walking the route from north to south.  The first leg was 14 miles over a most strenuous part of the path.  I had trained well in the previous weeks, doing progressively longer distances with a heavier pack, but, my favourite boots had more or less collapsed on me the previous Monday and I am wearing a rather heavy and inflexible pair that I haven’t put on for two years.  Also, despite all the walking I have done in the previous 5 years, it was over 10 years since I had done significant walking on a number of consecutive days.  Nevertheless, I am in buoyant mood as I stride out between the banks of bluebells and foxgloves on a bright and sunny day.  Stonechats “chat” beside the path and in the distance a pair of buzzards soar on the thermals that rise above the interface where the sea meets the cliffs with their dramatic folds and fissures of rock.

I stop at a farm to fill my water bottle.  I sense the farmer is keen for me to stay the night there on his camping field (£1 a night).  He says it is 6 hours walk to the next campsite, but I have only just started and I know I can do it quicker than that.  However, I didn’t reckon on his dog adding to the argument in a rather more direct manner.  Having not noticed it steal up behind me, the agonising pain of his fangs in the back of my calf makes me shout out in surprise and pain.  Luckily he didn’t break the skin, but the cynical smile on the animals face as he backs away from me makes me hope it isn’t an omen of things to come!

That is soon forgotten as I push on and drink in the heady views – the purity of the sea air and the intense and tranquil blue of the ocean; the mass of wild flowers that I’d heard such rave reviews of – I wasn’t going to be disappointed.  I only pass one other walker until I get within strollers’ reach of Newport.  I walk along the sands and ford the river, my bare feet appreciating the soothing coolness of water and soft mud but then complaining about the sharp stones that have to be crossed to reach the boat club jetty.  I find a pleasant campsite – the only campsite – but with a good congregation of midges – cook my spaghetti and tuna, take a short stroll and go to bed.  I feel fit and eager to get going again the next morning.  My training has obviously paid off and I feel I could eat this walk for breakfast!  I relish the fact that my home for the next ten days would be my little tent and this rugged path together with the sea, the cliffs and the soaring skies.  I pray that this would also be a pilgrimage for me.  

I awake at 4.30 am to the patter of rain.  I enjoy the rain when I am snug in my down sleeping bag in my ‘storm master’ tent, but the rain gets harder and so does sleep.  By 7.30 am, when my superfluous watch alarm goes off, it is pouring down.  I ‘lie-in’ till 8.15 thinking “is this dismal watery world going to be my home for the next 9 days?”   Cancelling my plan of cooking porridge, I make for the campsite shop to purchase toast and tea.  A woman of 45 ish is there who is walking solo from south to north.  She has got there in 9 days.

The rain always eases just after you’ve packed all your gear away.  I set off at 9.40 feeling comfortable in my swimming shorts and waterproof jacket.  The long wet grass soon soaked boots and socks and I have the first intimations of blisters on the outsides of my little toes.  Oh dear!  Despite this and the weather there is plenty of interest: the ruined Celtic chapel of St Brynach; Dinas “island” with the seabird colony on Needle Rock; and some fellow walkers.  Three men of pensionable age hoping to do the route in 14 days using Bed & Breakfasts.  “It’s getting to me” one of them confides.  I share the news of my nascent blisters to show solidarity and try to cheer him.  “It’s not blisters for me” he says, “it’s my back!”  I look at his pack and his stooping posture and I fear there’s not much I can say.  Admiring his courage, I hope things get better for him and not worse.  The path continues down and up and down again.  Two pieces of toast isn’t really a breakfast, I discover, and start to top up on chocolate bars and bananas.  I stop briefly to watch a fisherman checking his lobster pots and to watch intrepid canoeists out on the growing swell.  A two-person canoe had capsized.  They would have been in real trouble but under the guidance of their instructor the four single canoes form a raft over which the canoe can be lifted and emptied and refloated and from which the displaced persons can re-embark to try once more.

Lower Fishguard was the setting for the film version of Dylan Thomas’ “Under Milk Wood”.  A chapel is being converted into a very des. res.  But I’m now seriously “out of petrol” so at the Sea View Hotel I tuck into a full English Breakfast.  I’m well and truly tired now, but mercifully the blisters that threatened seem to have quietened down again.  In the afternoon I see the lobster fisherman again.  He’s wearing bright orange leggings in an open boat with a pulley suspended over the side.  As he performs the well-worn routines of pulling in his pots, emptying them, sorting the catch, re-baiting and then casting them off as he motors away, he reminds me of the fisherman of Sua in Ecuador.  There they didn’t have outboards but worked long nets from dug out canoes and all the family came to the beach to unload and sort the catch by the light of oil lamps, however, the spirit of the two seems to be the same.

Now I am going back to basics.  At the tiny remote bay of Porthsych near Strumble Head I stamp just enough level ground out of the undergrowth and pitch my tent.  I then uphold some well worn family traditions: scouring the small pebble storm beach I collect the necessary wood to construct myself a bench and find a foam-filled fibreglass block to make a table; with more drift wood and dry bramble shoots I light a fire (it took more than one match but I had no fire lighters).  Then, careful not to dry my boots too close to the fire, I settle down to sing to the seals!  Four or five are already congregating just off the beach and are bobbing on the waves, full of curiosity.  My Dad always said that they come closer when you sing to them.  I guess that depends …!

Next Episode

Funny at the Time

Have you ever had that sinking feeling, whilst telling a story to a group of people who are totally unmoved?  You can well remember how your sides were splitting as were those of whoever was with you at the time.  But now the light of day seems horribly cold and you realise that you just ‘had to be there’ and no amount of explaining can really get people into the spirit.  Your story dies a death and you rather wish that you could too.

On the other hand we sometimes find ourselves in completely the opposite scenario – tears running down the face as an experience is re-lived along with friends.  Then as the laughter dies away someone will acknowledge the grimmer reality that “of course it wasn’t funny at the time!”

Over recent months I have preached a number of sermons on the theme ‘What is the Bible?’  Two points in particular are very important to remember.

First, is that each of the writings that make up the Bible was written at a particular time (remembering that the Bible is not really a single book but a library of books).  This has many implications for us and means, in particular, that entering into the spirit of the Bible’s message involves more than just reading it at face value.  We have to try and understand something of the situation at the time it was written, what the influences were and what the author was trying to convey – not always easy.

Secondly, as we read the scriptures more intelligently, we find within them the process of their own transformation.  Some parts of the Bible are funny, though since we tend to read it with our ‘serious hat on’ we may miss this.  Other parts of the Bible seem nonsensical or even offensive (divine instruction to destroy whole nations including women, children and animals for instance). Supremely, Jesus says “You have heard that it was said ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’ But I say to you … turn the other cheek.”  Even that doesn’t give a final answer for every situation, but it shows the tradition behind the scriptures reflecting on itself and seeking transformation, to increasingly witness to the fullness of God’s life for every generation.

As we read the Bible in this way, I think we find it a much more fascinating and relevant book.  We also find that we have both the freedom and the responsibility to bring the transforming power of its message to bear on every part of life.

One man and his dog

Welcome to the September edition of the Parish Magazine.  As I write we’re not long back from our holiday – 8 nights in Bideford, North Devon (Clovelly, Woolacombe, Westward Ho! etc) a night on the edge of Dartmoor (in my Uncle’s house, so not as bad as it sounds) and 5 nights at my sister’s home in Twickenham.  We managed to get good weather too, so a good time was had by all (except perhaps for adjacent guests in the hotel who may have been wakened by crying in the night!) 

I thought I would share with you my version of a story I was told while we were away:

Having just died, a man was amazed to find his dog, which had died a couple of years before him, standing with its front paws on his chest and licking his face.  He was overjoyed and having revelled for a while in the happy reunion, he picked himself up off the path and they set off together to see what they would find.

After a little while they came to some pearly gates attended by an angel dressed in white.

Very nervously, the man asked if he could enter.

“Of course you can,” laughed the angel, “come right in.”

The man heaved a huge sigh of relief, whistled his dog and started in.

The angel coughed lightly and said, “Just one thing, Sir, the dog must stay outside.  You’re very welcome but I’m afraid it’s got to go.”

There was a long moment while the man looked at his four-legged friend and the dog looked at him, turning its head beguilingly to one side.  Finally the man’s mind was made up:

“If he’s not coming in then neither am I!”

“On your own head be it.” called the angel, “Think carefully about where you might find yourself …”  but man and beast were already on their way.

After a long but strangely pleasant walk they came to a place where the path broadened out.  A wooden gate had broken off its hinges and stood permanently opened wide.  There were some farm buildings and the familiar smell of cattle.  As they wandered into the yard a human face appeared that seemed to be that of a farmer.  She carried a tray on which were a mug of tea and an old ice cream tub full of cold water which she plonked down in front of the travellers.

“Hello!” she said with a beaming smile.  “Welcome.  Make yourselves at home and stay as long as you like.”

Man and dog somehow knew that they would do just that.  But the man, being a man, had one thing that he wanted to clear up first. 

“What’s this place called?” he asked.

“Oh, this is heaven.” said the woman, “Why?  Isn’t it quite what you expected?”

“Oh!  Well …” stammered the man, “I don’t know.  But the thing is … we passed another place on the way, you know, pearly gates and angels and so forth and I presumed …”

“Lot’s of people think that,” said the woman, “but the fact is, you won’t find anything like heaven in there.  We tried to get them closed down at one point but now we realise that they are actually quite useful.”

“Useful?” queried the man.

“Yes,” she said, “they weed out all the travellers who are willing to forsake their friends.”

From the Archives …

Report to the annual church meeting for the year ending Easter, 1924

Council Members: Mr WN Addey, Rev F Appleton, Mrs F Appleton, Miss Banham, Mrs Elmhirst, Mr WE Fowkes, Mr GA Habbeshon, Mr HL Humphrey, Mr L Humphrey, Mr WC Johnson, Mr R Littledyke, Mr F Morland, Mr EN Taylor, Mr F Thompson, Mr EH Wakefield, Mrs Wakefield, MTR Whitelock, Miss B Wright, Mr AW Wright, Miss E Elmhirst, Mrs Whitelock.

Electoral Roll – The Electoral Roll has been revised in accordance with the Constitution, and a copy is now presented to this meeting.  It contains the names of 952 Parochial Electors.

Banham Memorial Hall – The Building Fund has increased to just over £800, invested in War Loan.  The Committee submitted to the Council a tentative design by Mr Arthur Whitaker for a Hall at an estimated cost of £2,900, but the council did not feel justified in adopting provisionally a scheme which would involve so great an expenditure.  The Committee will reconsider the question of design, and will continue its efforts to increase the Building Fund.

Sunday Schools – an encouraging development is the opening of a Primary Department under the direction of Miss Wright in the Mixed School.  The Department is conducted on modern educational principles, and provides admirably for the younger children for whom the Infants’ School in Park road is too far distant.  There is urgent need of more teachers in the Boys’ and Girls’ Departments to fill vacancies caused by retirements.  The number of scholars is approximately 145 Boys, 165 Girls; Bible Class Members, 100 – totals 410.  An important step was taken by the teachers in the purchase of an excellent piano for £47.  of that sum £39 was lent and has yet to be found, and the need provides an opportunity for others than the teachers to show their practical interest in our Sunday Schools.  A mutually beneficial agreement with the Education committee has been made, whereby the Sunday School piano (on the upper floor) may be used for Day School purposes, and the Day School piano (on the ground floor) for Church purposes.

Swaithe Mission – Last year’s Report spoke of the necessity for larger accommodation than that afforded by the Mission Room.  Towards the end of the year the use of that room was brought to an end by the tenant of the house, who required it for his own purposes.  A good Army Hut was bought for £68 by means of funds raised in the Mission, donations and loans, and a site, at a nominal rent, was kindly granted by Mr CE Smith of Swaithe Hall.  This hut was inaugurated as the “Swaithe Mission Hall” on Sunday, March 30^th, when a large congregation filled the building for a service conducted by the Vicar, the lesson being read by Mr Fowkes and the music being led by the organist and choir of the Parish Church.  About £35 is needed to repay the money lent to defray the cost of erection and equipment.

Girls’ Friendly Society – Meetings for Members have been held twice weekly, on one evening (under Miss Banham’s guidance) for work in preparation for a Sale, the proceeds of which are to support a bed in a Missionary Hospital; on the other for devotion, education or recreation.  Interesting lectures were given by Mrs Dransfield, Mrs Elmhirst, Mrs Fryer, Mrs Wakefield, Miss Smith, Miss Woffinden and Miss Wright.  The candidates, numbering 80, show a slight increase.  Their weekly meetings have been occupied in games, singing, sewing (for the bed in the Mission Hospital), and Missionary and other talks.  Thanks to the good work of Mrs Buckley, Miss Banham and Miss Wright, these gatherings have been greatly appreciated by the girls.

Missionary Enterprise – The number of CMS Magazines now in circulation is 147 monthly.  A study circle on the text book, “Women Workers of the Orient,” was conducted.  Miss Irene Gregory has been giving a monthly Missionary address at the Children's Sunday morning service in the School. An interesting Lantern Lecture was given by Mrs. Wakefield, describing the work in China, and showing pictures of Funing Hospital, in which one of the beds is already supported by this Parish. At the Diocesan Missionary Festival, held at Sheffield in June, our Choir supplied its full proportion to the massed Choir, and the Parish was represented by a party of 35.

Parish Magazine – Under Mr. Taylor's vigorous management the Parish Magazine more than paid its way during the first year of its restored existence. The circulation has steadily increased to about 450.

Finance – The £40 fixed by the Council as the Parochial Contribution to the Diocesan and Central Funds for 1923 (as against the £100 at which the Parish was assessed by the Ruri-decanal Conference) was attained, but only by the gifts of a few donors supplementing the collections in Church. Church expenses showed an increase of £17 over the previous year, mainly accounted for by repairs, including the making good of a breach in the north wall of the Churchyard, and books, including a supply of new Prayer and Hymn Books for the use of visitors. Under Special Objects the payments were £3 less than in 1922. For the present year the position is one of uncertainty. The income from the Church Trust property on Worsborough Common will largely be absorbed in meeting municipal requirements for road making. On the other hand, a -Free-will Offering Scheme has been launched with the two-fold object of providing a steady income for the Memorial Hall Building Fund, and also for meeting the general needs of the Church with a special view to the Diocesan quota. Mr. W. N. Addey has undertaken the secretaryship of the scheme, and has secured 52 members, contributing the equivalent of about £1 10s. Od. per week. If this scheme were more widely taken up a reliable income, sufficient to meet all our needs, would be assured.

Interdenominational Christian Council – A Special joint Committee, representative of the various Denominations, organised a united procession of the Sunday Schools on Whit Monday. The undertaking was successfully carried out, and obviously made a favourable impression on the minds of the inhabitants generally. As a sequel to this co-operative venture, a permanent Council was created by the governing bodies of the several denominations to secure common and united prayer and action upon spiritual, moral and social questions, and to bring Christian principles to bear upon such questions. This Council is composed of representatives of this Church and St. James', Worsborough Bridge; of the Wesleyan, Wesleyan Reform, and Primitive Methodist Churches, and of the Salvation Army.

General – The congregations on Sundays have continued to show a slight increase, though they represent a lamentably small proportion of the nominal Church inhabitants of the Parish. The Council would specially appeal to the large body of Parochial Electors on the Roll not to forsake "the assembling of ourselves together." The candidates presented for Confirmation were 5 males and 13 females. The small number of those seeking Confirmation is a cause for concern, for apart from it there cannot be a full growth either in personal spiritual life or in the corporate life of the Church. The average number of Communicants per week was 30.5, or practically the same as last year. An impressive Service was held on Armistice Day, when the Church was quite filled with a congregation representative of the District Council, Ambulance and Fire Brigades, and Friendly Orders. Such a gathering suggests a thought of the possibilities of common worship and of the inspiration to be found in a great congregation.

The Council would conclude this Report by asking its constituency, that is, the Parochial Electors, as well as the congregation in general, to join with it in thankfulness to Almighty God for every token of His Presence and Blessing in the past year, and in the prayer that the coming one may be marked by inward growth in grace and outward activity in every work of faith and labour of love to which He shall call us in the fellowship of His Church,

F. APPLETON, Chairman.

A. W. WRIGHT, Secretary. 31^st MARCH, 1924.

Getting through

This morning we were up at 6.15 (not my choice) and shortly afterwards set off on the bike to go round the reservoir.  We stopped a little way up the mill stream where it is easy to get down to the water and there is enough flow to make throwing sticks in worth the effort.  Willow leaves become little fish, and sticks are canoes, but most of them get stuck within a foot or two of beginning their journey – a trailing weed, muddy shallows, some other debris – stuck fast and the current too feeble to free them and set them moving again.

Except that, eventually, one of the many (many) does miraculously sail on, perfectly avoiding every obstacle, merrily down the stream out of sight, and we can only imagine some wonderful adventure just beginning …

How many prayers do we pray, how many dreams do we dream, how many good intentions do we cherish in our thoughts, only for them all to get snagged up or bogged down before they have really got anywhere.

In the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes it says, “Cast your bread upon the waters and after many days it will return to you”.  I’m not sure if I really know what the writer was on about, but he seems to be encouraging a kind of reckless generosity (albeit with a pay back) – Don’t worry how much of your effort is wasted – if one prayer, or dream or good intention really does get through, then that is something beautiful and beyond the cold calculation of efficiency.

St Thomas

The third of July is the festival of St Thomas, our very own saint.  We don’t usually have a service on a Wednesday so we will be marking the festival on the following Sunday.

We all know the expression ‘a doubting Thomas’.  It’s not one that I like, because the way it is usually used suggests that to be like Thomas is to be weak and wishy-washy, someone who sits on the fence and doesn’t have the courage to make and sustain commitment.  Thomas certainly wasn’t perfect, but neither was he weak.  He was his own man and the way he doubted showed, I think, strength rather than weakness.

It is only in John’s Gospel that we are given any insight into Thomas’s character.

Jesus said to his disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.”
“But Rabbi,” they said, “a short while ago the Jews tried to stone you, and yet you are going back there?” ….
Then Thomas said to the rest of the disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”  John 11vs7,8,16

Okay, so it’s not exactly the most positive contribution to the conversation, but at least it shows a deep sense of loyalty when the others are probably more concerned about their own safety.

(Jesus said) “In my father’s house are many rooms … I am going there to prepare a place for you … You know that way to the place where I am going.”
Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”  John 14vs1-5

Jesus is trying to paint a reassuring picture; but such rosy ideas simply bounce off Thomas’s hardened head!  He’s down to earth and stubborn.  Perhaps not the easiest person to have around when you’re trying to develop a vision of better things.  But then how often have we failed to challenge someone when, to be honest, we haven’t got a clue what they are going on about?  As a little boy Thomas might well have been the one to challenge the emperor’s birthday suit!

And then we come to Thomas’s main scene (John 20vs19-31).  From what we’ve seen already, it’s not surprising that he doesn’t take the word of the other disciples – after all it’s not everyday news that they are telling him.  But why does the situation arise in the first place?

The disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews.

… but Thomas was not with them.  That seems to sum him up.  While all the others were huddling together in secret, he was out and about, doing his own thing!  And I don’t suppose the rest were best pleased with him.

But when Thomas does see the risen Jesus for himself his exclamation “My Lord and my God” and the subsequent response of Jesus (vs39-31) are considered to form the climax of the whole of the Gospel of St John.

TRINITY

Trinity Sunday always reminds me of my 10 day trek along the Pembrokeshire coast path: physical challenge, mental freedom and spiritual pilgrimage all rolled in to one – in constant communion with the cliffs, the ever-changing sea and the all encompassing sky.

I felt sorry for the preacher in the church I attended in Pembroke on the evening of Trinity Sunday that year – after all I had picked my holiday dates wisely to avoid that particular sermon.  He tried to give some explanation of what the Trinity was and inevitably ended up by apologising.  If we get bogged down in mathematics or give too much emphasis to three leafed clovers then we inevitably ‘dumb things down’, as they say nowadays. 

Perhaps the power of the idea of Trinity lies in the fact that it is beyond explanation.  Rather it symbolises the complexities of life, the interplay of various contradictions, contrasts and competing interests; but also the relevance of God and the strength which God gives to the believer in the midst of all of these.

Take the basic ‘trinity’ of Self, Family and Community.  A key process in all our lives is to work out the balance between these three.  It would be great if each one was always in harmony with both the others, but of course that’s not the way it is in practice – perhaps it would be if we were all perfect but we’re not. 

Having said that, it is clear that some of the most beautiful things emerge out of conflict – how many of the greatest artists have conceived their works in response to the painful conflicts within body, mind and spirit.  The beauty of the coast is by no means lessened by a dramatic clash between wind, rock and wave. 

God is not a simple idea, nor is he a kindly old gentleman.  God is greater and more beautiful and more awe inspiring than anything we can think or imagine.  As the Old Testament patriarch Jacob found out: in wrestling with God we find strength, even as we are made painfully aware of our humanity.  But again, as St Patrick prayed:

I arise today through a mighty strength, the strong name of the Trinity.

Through belief in the three-ness, through the confession of the one-ness

of the creator of creation.