More Irish (and American) Running

International cross country this time, having been selected for Wales in the V70 category we flew over to Dublin. Not that we saw much of Dublin this time round since we caught a shuttle bus straight to our hotel and, the following morning, walked to Santry Park where the event took place. Back on the midday flight the following day. Still it was a good trip enabling us to meet old friends and make new ones. The run was a bit of a blast round Santry Park, no hills, no mud, wind or rain so none of the elements that usually work to my advantage. However I was the first Welsh V70 runner and ahead of all the English runners in the category.

Greetings from America! (Heather in the purple - her favourite colour.)

 And here's a happy trio  of ladies at the Lillee  parkrun in Ann Arbor,  Michigan, USA. Vicky  and Teresa visited from  the UK to introduce  Heather to parkrunning  at her local event. She  was clearly pleased to  be taking part. (Gosh  this sounds like a local  newspaper report  doesn't it!) It was a  scenic course which  involved several  crossings of a lake on a wooden bridge which I guess might be a bit of a hazard on a frosty morning. What fun!

So just by way of highlighting the latest stage of Vicky's international parkrunning career here are her stats for the last 10 events. This lists two runs in Namibia, one in South Africa, one in the US, two in Wales, two in England, one in Northern Ireland and one in the Republic of Ireland. How's that for park globe trotting?

Joburg

Anyone at home?

Flying into Johannesburg in the late afternoon, the view from the plane is of a huge sprawling city - ten million people live here in the metropolitan area - fortunately for us we're staying at our Mandy's only 20 minutes away from the airport. We're in a suburb called Edenvale and Mandy's place is in a large gated community, my training runs consisted of tortuous routes circling the estate.  Glad of a chance to escape from the Johannesburg suburbs we took a trip out to an area nicknamed the 'Cradle of Humankind' and we went down a hole in the ground. About an hour and a half into the veldt in a not very special area of countryside is a site that contains the largest concentration of remains of early hominids, wow! 

Mrs Pies or Mr Pies - who knows?

 They've found lots of  bits of Australopithecus  Africanus, who were  the predecessors to  Homo Erectus and  Homo Sapiens,  including this young  lady whose skull was  found not too long ago  in the Sterkfontein  Caves where we were  now standing down in  the murky depths of an  underground network.  She was  discovered in  the late  1940's and  identified as  a lady,  she became known as Mrs Pies for some odd reason, however more recent analysis of her teeth, or lack of them, indicates that she might have been a man! Notwithstanding all of this we spent a fascinating hour or so in the cool underground chambers away from the African noonday sun. It seems that part of the reason that there were so many intact bits of skeleton down here was that they belonged to folk who had fallen down some of the many potholes present at the surface of the limestone complex and they'd failed to make it back up. 

Flying tonight!

Despite Johannesburg's bustling residential suburbs and teeming townships and vast industrial estates there are, nonetheless, some good sized parks and we visited the 300 acre Johannesburg Botanical Gardens (now dedicated to Walter Sisulu one of Nelson Mandela's buddies.) And focussing my binoculars on a flurry of activity in a distant group of tall trees I spotted a huge eagle. This was a Verreaux's Eagle one of the largest birds of the prey in the world. My photos were a bit fuzzy so this impressive snapshot is courtesy of Wikipedia. A couple of pairs of Verreaux's Eagles live and breed in the park but sightings are apparently not easy to come by. These birds take sibling rivalry to the ultimate - two eggs are laid and hatched but within days the stronger of the chicks kills its brother or sister!

Hot running!

 Joburg has plenty of  parkruns and Vicky's  sister took us to her  favourite at Gilloolys, a  former farm (owned by  Mr Gillooly) which is  now an attractive and  extensive recreational  park. Event number  248  started at 8 am but  even by then the  temperature had  started to rise, what's  more this is at altitude -  we were getting on for  6000 feet above sea  level - so it was hard work! Nevertheless we sped round and I finished in 23 minutes exactly, beating the existing V70 record by nearly two minutes. 

(Postscript 1: So.....it's well known that elite athletes use altitude training to enhance their performances; well it didn't work for me, on our return to Wales I felt as if I was running through treacle for the following week or so!) 

(Postscript 2: Unfortunately the skull illustrated above is not that of Mrs (or Mr) PIES, it's Mrs (or Mr) PLES the name being derived from 'plesianthropus' which was the initial latin name applied to this poor creature. My mistake, I misread my research source. And by way of additional information the skull was intact until its discovery when it was blown into fragments by a stick of dynamite, the archeologists carefully put it back together again with that endless patience that archaeologists must have.

Under African Skies

A fine pub!

Just what the doctor ordered!

Leaving Ireland we took a flight to Heathrow from Dublin and stayed overnight near Kew Gardens by the Thames. Following a fine beer and food supper at the Express Tavern on Kew Bridge we slept well and enjoyed an early morning jog along the riverbank. Back to Heathrow we relaxed in the lounge and found that Brewdog had brewed a special ale for British Airways to see us on our way. Our journey had, by now, consisted of a train to Holyhead, a ferry to Dublin, a hire car to and from Clonmel, a plane to Heathrow, a tube to Kew and even a bus the following morning to the tube station. We knew that this was going to be the modus operandi for our first week away from home so we travelled light with hand luggage only. We're not going to need warm clothing in Southern Africa are we? Or so we thought!

Plenty of room for expansion!

 We arrived at the tiny  Walvis Bay Airport, the  second largest in  Namibia, on a sunny  afternoon and drove  into town and to our  small hotel. to find that,  as the day drew to a  close it began to get  quite chilly! So our first  job on day two was to  buy some warm  clothes.  The coast of  Namibia is extremely  dry but  cool due to the influence of the Benguela Current which brings cold water up from the South Atlantic. This major ocean current also brings a rich soup of nutrients from the depths which gives rise to an astonishing ecosystem of fish, birds and mammals. The fishing industry of Walvis Bay has declined somewhat but it's still a major port and a base for those seeking wildlife and the desert scenery. 

All got your suncream?

Early seafarers on their way down the African coast called in here for a breather in the huge natural harbour which  is adjacent to an expansive lagoon which teems with birdlife. Flamingoes are all over the place and they're on most of the local postcards but we also spotted a wide variety  of waders and other seabirds many on holiday from up north, they'll be in Morecambe Bay come our winter. But what really impressed us were the hundreds of thousands of cormorants that we saw sunning themselves - half the world's population must be here!

Gosh that was quick!

 By sheer coincidence  we discovered that    there are parkruns in  Namibia. We  determined this before  we planned our trip so  we arranged to stay  one weekend in Walvis  Bay and the next  weekend in  Swakopmund so that  we could fit in both of  the coastal Namibian  parkruns. Friday night  found us sitting in the  bar in our hotel opposite the parkrun start - we checked the parkrun facebook page - oh heck, the run was cancelled at short notice! No panic though, we drove the 20 odd miles up the coast to Swakopmund, ran the parkrun there and repeated the operation the other way round the following weekend - thankfully the cancellation was for one week only. Here's the finish of the Walvis Bay event - Vicky ran her fastest of the year - hurrah!

Swakopmund is quite a contrast to Walvis Bay. Its German colonial origins are very evident and the architecture has some clear Teutonic influences. The population is a little smaller than that of its neighbour and the town is much more geared up for tourism. We found the perfect place to stay - a hotel with its own brewery, what a pleasant spot it was to stay for a few relaxing days. 

On the outskirts of town is the curiously named Swakopmund Municipal Restcamp. During a short early evening jog I stepped inside the front gate and took a photo of the rows of identical angular guesthouses - there are nearly 200 of them sitting serenely in the desert.  Constructed in the 1950's these were designed as cheap holiday accommodation - you can still hire them out for around £50 a night! And here's the somewhat oblique connection between Wales and Namibia. A few weeks previously we'd stayed in the village of Portmeirion on the North Wales coast which was used as the setting for the 1960's Prisoner TV series. The cottages in 'The Village' housed the various detainees including the central characters. The Prisoner was subject to a remake in 2009 and was filmed in Swakopmund using footage of the remarkable dunescapes - the equivalent of Portmeirion was the restcamp which featured as 'The Village' in the more recent series. How about that!

Before we left we realised we couldn't completely ignore all the touristy stuff and we had a trip down the coast into the desert to ride up and down some of the enormous sand dunes. It's on an impressive scale - to my right in this photo there's a long drop down to the sea of around 100 metres, and yes it was still chilly!

Not here to sunbathe!

Medallion Man

 

Every one's a winner!

 Not quite winners but  this is the silver medal  (70 years) team from  the World  Mountain  Running Champs at  Clonmel in Ireland. The  photo depicts me  (Wales), Alex  (Scotland)  and Ernest  (Northern Ireland). We  were beaten to the gold  medals by a team of  Italians none of whom  were taller than Ernest  so, as you can imagine,  I towered over most of  the field.

She won a tin of coke!

And just to remind you that there are two athletes in the family here's Vicky finishing her second Aquathon of the year at Chester. This particular Aquathon consists of a swim in the River Dee followed by a run around The Meadows which is the open parkland by the riverside. It's a very friendly evening event and I might even be persuaded to give it a go next year - provided someone else does the swim leg first. (The tin of coke is handed to everyone as the finish - it's to neutralise the interesting water of the River Dee!) Then again I can happily cycle - what I need is a Duathlon which is a Triathlon without the swim! Whilst we were swanning around Ireland Vicky ticked off the Clonmel parkrun - I was about to start my mountain race and (there was just enough time) I could have done the parkrun and then sprinted on a few hundred yards in time for the big race, but I took the (sensible?) decision to back off on this ambitious double. Just the sort of thing I'd have attempted a few years ago!!

Far flung corners of Wales

 

Beating the English!

It's a bit of a trek to Tenby from Prestatyn but I'd been asked to run for the over 65 Wales team in the international 10K versus England. Tenby is a pretty little walled seaside town in the bottom left corner of Wales, the best part of a five hour drive away so we thought we'd make a weekend of it. I hadn't bargained for the fact that on this particular weekend the place would be packed with swimmers, cyclists and runners all competing in a series of events over three days. However we'd booked a very handy AirBNB apartment (just outside the city walls and close to the beach) just far away enough from the noise and bustle of town. The run was fun but tough, I was the fourth Welsh V65 counter but we were comfortably ahead of the English V65 team - I even managed to finish in the first V70 slot - and got a nice medal! 

A 1960's TV series that was ahead of it's time, The Prisoner was vastly different to most of the other humdrum fare that was beamed to us from the three TV channels that we had at the time - and BBC2 had only been going for a few weeks! Each week I eagerly awaited the next episode. The series starred the enigmatic Patrick McGoohan and was set in the Welsh village of Portmeirion which, in the TV programme, was supposed to be in a secret location well away from British shores (there was much speculation that this was somewhere in the Baltic Sea.)

Not in Italy!

 Portmeirion is off the  beaten track    somewhat, it's at the  southern end of  Snowdonia where the  mountains meet the  sea and was developed  into an Italianate  village by the eccentric  Clough Williams  incorporating fragments  of and materials  from  demolished buildings.  It's now a bit of  a  tourist draw but, by being booking in as  paying guests we were able to stay for a  couple of nights and explore the village and  grounds at our leisure after the riff riff had  gone home.

Check Mate!

North Wales Pilgrims Way (Stage 10 Nefyn to Llangwynnad)

Oh dear - slipped again!

 If only I'd seen this  before I set off down  the cliffside. On the OS  map there looked to be  a clear right of way  footpath down to the  beach - Skip and I  would trundle down and  have a pleasant flat  beach run for the first  section of our day's  pilgrimage from Nefyn  westwards. The problem is that this section off coastline is subject to periodic landslips due to the friable nature of the hillside - this photo is from just a few years ago and of course this meant that our long established footpath had been eliminated leaving us scrambling about on a very unstable hillside amidst brambles, etc. Skip was quite discomfited! So back up we went having lost quite some time out of our allotment for the day

Llyn Cliffs!

We managed to drop down onto the next beach and had a pleasant jog along the strand but we were then faced with a climb up to Nefyn Golf Course which must be one of the most exposed courses in Wales. A stiff breeze faced us on the cliff tops and the constant ups and downs as we progressed from inlet to inlet on the narrow paths became somewhat wearing. To add to our troubles a steady fall of rain worked its way through my waterproof top and even Skip lost his usual zip. At our rendezvous some miles further on near Tudweiliog I sat in the car, ate an early lunch and took stock. Vicky very kindly trekked over to the cafe to fetch me a hot cup of tea. Suitably invigorated I decided to press on using the alternative inland route minus Skip. It couldn't get any worse I thought!!

A Picture Postcard Setting!

Porth Towyn is the closest beach to Tudweiliog. I'd been here before but not for 41 years. I'd hitchhiked up in a hot early September following the Isle of Wight Music Festival (highlights included Bob Dylan being booed for his being more electric and less folky than before). I'd been travelling on back roads sleeping at night under hedges in an extra-large fertiliser bag. On arrival I promptly fell asleep on the Towyn beach and woke up with a sore red nose! It certainly wasn't picture postcard weather today as I emerged from the car into the gale and  slogged the last few miles to our AirBnb at Llangwynnad just an hour or so short of the Pilgrims Way endpoint at Aberdaron. We already knew that our ferry to Bardsey Island had been cancelled due to the foul weather so our journey is not yet complete - we fight another day.

North Wales Pilgrims Way (Stage 9 - Clynnog Fawr to Nefyn)

Big church!

 The population of  Clynnog Fawr is round    about 1000. So what's  a big church like this  doing here? We've  seen cathedrals not  much bigger than this.  Well it was a rather    important staging post  for the medieval Welsh  pilgrims on their way to  Bardsey  Island. The  church is dedicated to  St Beuno   who lived here and there's a holy well just outside town where the pilgrims could bathe their sore feet.

Well, well, well!

And here's the well itself which I found on my way out of the village. This is one of a number of Welsh holy wells ascribed or dedicated to Beuno, maybe he had connections at Dwr Cymru. The signboard explains that the waters of this well are a cure for epileptic children and in medieval times folk would bring their affected offspring from miles around and fling them into the icy water. I can see how this might work perhaps! (My trusty rucksac has also found it's way into the picture to prove I was there!) From here it's a fairly direct route parallel to the main road before dropping down into Trefor where Skip and then I faced the big climb up towards the three summits of Yr Eifl. Our path upwards was clearly centuries old and has been used by pilgrims, quarry workers and shepherds over the years. It was a clear calm day and, away from the traffic noise, we began to relax and enjoy the far reaching views down the length of the Lleyn peninsula. Our route widened out into a track along which granite was transported from the high quarries down to the sea at Nant Gwrtheryn which is the modern name for Porth Nant.

Not my photo but I think this is a stunning snap of a quite extraordinary location, the former isolated village of Porth Nant which was the export outlet for vast quantities of granite setts quarried further up the hill in the 19th and 20th centuries. These cobbles for the roads of Manchester, Liverpool and further afield were chiselled to size in the quarries and then transported down a zig-zag winding track (known as the Screw!) to the coast;  they were then loaded into steamers which carried their cargos up the Mersey and the Manchester Ship Canal to the newly built Coronation Streets and Penny Lanes of the late 19th century. Though very isolated Porth Nant was a thriving community, however after the second world war, tarmac became the road surface of choice and the cobble industry declined. The village was gradually abandoned and the dwellings fell into disrepair. However a forward thinking GP from Manchester, whose mother was Welsh speaking, had practised in North Wales and developed a strong Welsh affiliation to the extent that he set about reviving the village - it's now a busy residential Welsh Language centre, a new tarmacked (!) road enables vehicles to descent the steep tour down and the ruined buildings have been restored for accommodation for the students. It's a lovely spot and Skip and I were delighted to see the wonderful views as we wound our way down the 'Screw'.  

Little church!

We had a good look at the harbour and imagined the tramp steamers loading up their cargos of cobblestones and then proceeded on and upwards on the coastal path, the only other route out of Nant Gwtheryn which follows a cliff top route for a few miles. Having started the day by St Beuno's Church in Clynnog Fawr, we finished several hours later in Nefyn and, on the way down at Pistyll we were pleased to see yet another St Beuno's Church. This one is a much smaller building, apparently this is where Beuno went when he wanted a bit of peace and quiet. It's in a lovely spot overlooking the sea and, I learnt that it had a thatched roof until the 20th century, although all the photos I found depicted its current slate roof. A more recent claim to fame is that the churchyard contains the grave of Rupert Davies who played Inspector Maigret in the 1960's TV series. 

We're getting closer to the end of the pilgrimage, the historical links are more frequent and we seem to be moving further away from civilisation and the 21st century. Running away from the present perhaps? Well why not!