From Tywyn one starts out with a 4+ mile beach walk. I hit it at low tide, the best time to see this huge beach in its vast stunningness:
Blob with blobby finger-lik eprojections:
Yet something else one had not previously thought about:
By and by this morning I heard the sound of hundreds of bleating sheep. Glancing off to the left, I saw hundreds of sheep being herded by a couple of border collies, and a couple of “shepherds” seated atop small tractors, and those shepherds where a whooping and a hollering, just like you think they would. The whole scene was out of view very quickly as sheep, dogs, and men on tractors disappeared over the brow of the hill.
Pretty view:
Just-about-to-be-consumed nectarine, on top of memorial stone to Arthur:
Everything Old Bought And Sold read the sign:
A neat and tidy little place it was. Why it has not kept its rating, who knows:
Sort of like not abseiling in the quarry, except there were no timber stacks to be seen:
Grandma Goes Coastal 