Pembrokeshire, Wales!

Primary school is back in session in Great Britain. The shadows are growing longer. The nights are getting chilly. Most days you need both a fleece jumper and a rain jacket. Even some of the trees are threatening to change colour.

Summer ’09 is all but over. Where did it go?

Recognising the approach of autumn and the futility of resistance, a group of friends and I decided to go camping in Wales this past weekend as a final summer hurrah.

We set up our tents at a prepared campsite near the coast in Pembrokeshire, South Wales. As I’m sure you know the United Kingdom is made up of the countries of England, Wales, Scotland, and Northern Ireland. Wales (‘Cymru’ in Welsh) is bounded on the east by England and on the west by the Atlantic, and is known for its rugged coastline, picturesque countryside... and coal mines/heavy industry.

Pembrokeshire is a peninsula in the southern part of the country, consisting mostly of dairy and sheep farms, unruly hedge rows, sunken roads, and old stone churches. Pembrokeshire is on a plateau that drops off dramatically into the sea fifty metres below. It’s scenic, but with the roads sunken a good metre or two below the ground level and with the tall hedges, you often can’t see past the next bend in the road... so, usually about 10 feet.

Our first order of business was a day on the beach at St David’s. We had a picnic under the shelter of the cliffs, played cricket on the beach (which is surprisingly harder than it looks), dug a formidable sandcastle, and went swimming in some massive waves. It was the iconic English seaside holiday, and it was a blast.

That evening was some homemade curry, a pot of hot tea, and a WWII history lesson from our resident historian/storyteller. We spent a blustery night in the tents and then headed back to St. David’s the next morning to explore the town.

St. David’s is the smallest city in the UK, with a population of just a couple thousand. It’s technically a city because it has a cathedral – and it’s a majestic, ancient cathedral at that. In fact, the Pope once said that two visits to the cathedral were worth one trip to Rome, and four visits were equivalent to a trip to Jerusalem. I personally didn’t feel half way to Rome, but I did feel like I was in middle-earth with all the dragon flags, the sing-song local accent, and the bizarre place-names. The Welsh, like the Scots and the Irish, are a Celtic people, which is clear from the Welsh language. Consider: “Mae fy hofrenfad yn llawn llyswennod” = “My hovercraft is full of eels.”

Welsh and English are both official languages, so everything has to be printed double, which makes for amazingly cluttered and confusing road signs – especially with their peculiar place names, such as the honest-to-goodness town named “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch” (Welsh for "St Mary's church in the hollow of the white hazel near to the rapid whirlpool and the church of St Tysilio of the red cave").

This train timetable was in the Haverfordwest (Hwlffordd) train station (Gorsaf).

The unmistakeable Welsh-English accent is also fun. When I first heard it I thought they must have been joking. They have some favourite phrases too that became our trip catch phrases: “There’s lovely for you” and “That’s lush.”

It was wet and rainy the whole time we were at St. David’s, but that only made the whole experience more atmospheric. That evening we ate dinner at a rubbish pub, got back to the wet campsite, brewed a pot of hot tea, had another history lesson, and buttoned down for a damp night.

We drove back to ‘Sheffers’ the next afternoon, Monday, since it was a bank holiday, but not until we stopped at St. Govan’s Chapel, a truly ancient hermitage nestled in the cliffs overlooking the sea. Parts of the tiny, one-room dwelling date back to the sixth century. Legend has it that St. Govan was fleeing pirates when the rocks of the cliff opened up and hid him until the pirates were gone. Some also say that Sir Gawain, one of the knights of the round table (King Arthur’s nephew), lived out his days there and is now buried beneath the alter.

We sat at the foot of the cliffs for a long time, just watching the waves crash relentlessly against the rocks like they have since long before King Arthur, long before the first stone was ever laid for the chapel.

Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said:

"Who is this that darkens my counsel

with words without knowledge?

Brace yourself like a man;

I will question you, and you shall answer me.

"Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?

Tell me, if you understand.

Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!

Who stretched a measuring line across it?

On what were its footings set,

or who laid its cornerstone-

while the morning stars sang together

and all the angels shouted for joy?

"Who shut up the sea behind doors

when it burst forth from the womb,

when I made the clouds its garment

and wrapped it in thick darkness,

when I fixed limits for it

and set its doors and bars in place,

when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther;

here is where your proud waves halt'?

Job 38:8-11