For Outdoor Pursuits this week, we were to break up into groups of 6 and plan a camping trip for one night along the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path. We were given all the equipment we needed, dropped off at our starting point, and told to head to a designated area to be picked up the next day. Throughout the day, our instructors were going to stop by to make sure that we were keeping an ok pace and to insure that we had not killed ourselves or each other, but besides that, we were completely on our own.
At first, I thought that this would go well. I really like the people in my group, and we are all fairly competent when it comes to the outdoors. The trip to our campsite was not much of an ordeal. Well, that is if you do not include our little short cut. The path on the map is rather well-defined, so there was no possible way to get lost. However, our group, being the intrepid adventurers that we are, decided to stray from the trail to cut some time. This decision took us through some random field and over a barbed-wire fence, which is quite difficult to climb when you are wearing 5 layers and are lugging a 50 pound backpack around.
After the barbed-wire, we cut through the bramble and the bog in order to reach the ocean once again. Actually five of us cut through the bog while one of us, Andy, decided to go through the bramble. As we cut through, we could not help but imagine our guide laughing hysterically at this group of six silly Americans trying to make it through such difficult ground. It turns out the bog was probably the better way to go since the five of us emerged with only slightly damp boots while Andy ended up with thorns and stickers all over. From then on we realized why there was a path and why we should stick to it.
We reached the only somewhat suitable place for camp with plenty of time to set up and cook our food before it became dark. As we scouted out the area, we could not find any flat ground, so Lauren, my tentmate, and I set up our tent on some soft, springy grass with only one small hill. However, after we had put our tent completely together, we decided to move to another location. Bad idea. We left our tent without staking it down, and right before our eyes, the wind picked it up and tossed it over the cliff. My reaction, I am sorry to say, was less than stellar. I just stared down the cliff where my tent stood at least 100 feet down, cursing my own stupidity. Bad weather was coming, and I could not see any way of safely retrieving our tent before the tide came in. Thankfully, Andy came to our rescue, ran down further along the cliffs, found a gentle slope, and retrieved our tent for us. We promptly staked the tent into the ground and settled ourselves and our bags into the tent preparing for the night ahead of us.
The night was long. The wind howled and the rain beat down. I barely slept. In the morning, we discovered five or six little pools of water that invariably soaked most of our stuff which we hoped to keep dry. When I heard that the day was to be cut short because of weather, I was glad. Even the 2 mile hike into town did not bother me as much because I knew that from there, we would be in the minibus and then back to my warm, dry room.
