Worry not, friends. I’m not in Crawley; I’m in Wales, having pushed out 40km for the first time since Dorset. And it feels ok.
First up,walking over the Severn Bridge was a spectacular experience, especially in strong wind and squally rain. On a par with Golden Gate, I’d say, if maybe less romantic. The walkway feels exposed and rattly, and the vibrations of the bridge itself are quite unnerving. Do it!
It then took an age for the second Severn bridge to arrive and even longer for it to leave as I plodded along the endless sea wall towards Newport. Only at Goldcliff did I lose sight of it.
My third bridge I had hoped would make a stunning finish to the day: Newport’s transporter bridge. But it was shut! Only operates 10-5 unfortunately. So no go tomorrow either.
The Usk is now in first place in the ugly rivers category, and I’m developing an eye for photographing mud. I’ve never seen so much mud …
Carolyn is home tomorrow so I’m on my own for a while and on to a Friday night in Cardiff. No rugby, though.