Day 1 - backwind; day 2&3 - fighting the wind; day 4 - no wind. Suspicious.
Skipped Holyhead, but still wanted to get to the edge of the mainland to take my 'end of the land' photo, and because I have a childish penchant for bridges and lighthouses. So, I've chosen Penmon as my end-point of Wales.
After discussing Tito, Milosevic, Yugoslavia, Austro-Hungarian Empire and all the good old questions in the last few days, I was wondering where my Yugo nostalgia was coming from. How do I have one at all?
When the smell of the sea hit my face as I cycled along the coastline, a memory came back, clear as playing a tape back. My godparents once took me to Brela, a village on the Croatian seaside - that's the bluest water I've ever seen. I think when I stayed there with them (a mix of ex-yu adults) that was a magical feeling, seeing their common memories, even though we were in international company. I think, to me, Yugoslavia means a very nice blue, the integrity of the strongest language boundaries, and holidays with whipped cream on the top - which I could have everyday for brunch. What brought all this to mind was the funny smell of the dead seashells.
Magic! There is a saying in Hungarian: every piece of magic lasts for three days. True. After three days without rain (lasting longer than 10 minutes, at least), I got it all on the fourth. Because of that, my day was cut short by 10 miles. I couldn't make it up to Snowdon. :(
BUT, luckily my very kind host Annie saw that sad smiley, and offered me a ride up to the top.
I've named this day my luxury day: bridge, lighthouse, car-ride, reggae music, huge dinner, live music - where the band dedicated one of their songs to my charity cycle, and listening to looooooots of Welsh talk (I didn't hear any English, except when they were talking to me). Beautiful language - hopefully gonna have enough rain not to dry out these green valleys.
