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Skomer Island? Where? And Why? To see Puffins, of course :)

Although my laptop chose today to breathe its last internet sigh....Mom saves the day with letting me access her photo files.  Enjoy the photos which can be found at the end of this story ....and as we are off on another travel adventure in the morning, I better get busy posting Part II of our Skomer Island/ puffin adventure....

I knew I was in trouble when Mom sent me an e-mail about an island called Skomer Island off the coast of Wales.

"Did you see the information I sent you about Skomer Island?,"  Mom asks me.  "They have puffins there."  Please allow me to translate this statement for you.  This is Mom-speak for, "We need to go see these puffins.  You need to figure out how to get us there."

And so it begins....

It is a little difficult to get a lot of detailed information about Skomer Island...or more to the point, how to get there.  It is not like the Staten Island Ferry where ferries run on a set schedule - rain or shine - and one just walks up, gets on the boat and goes.  No, this is very different.

Before we get to Skomer Island, we have a few other challenges to overcome.  We have spent a good portion of our vacation circling around in traffic roundabouts one too many times and trying to read directional signs that are either non-existent or hidden behind tree branches...but it is okay because we are traveling to a small town called Dale for a very specific reason.....

More specifically than trying to find the town of Dale, we ultimately need to reach an even smaller town called Martin Haven.  A little town where the road does end literally at the water's edge and at the launching area for boats to Skomer Island.  A little town that has nothing more than a parking lot, a boat launch and a hut run by the National Trust.  This hut is a pivotal part of the puffin story.

But back to trying to find the town of Dale because without Dale...we can not find Martin Haven...and without Martin Haven, we can not find the hut...and without the hut we can not buy the boat tickets to go see the puffins of Skomer Island.

The directions to Dale and our bed and breakfast accommodations went something like this..."Drive to Dale (only one road so we are good so far).  If you have gone past the hut where we usually start the dinghy races, you have gone too far."

Hhhhhmmm....Mom and I read the e-mail knowing before we even arrived close to Dale that we will get lost.  We know this because we have spent a good portion of our weeks in Wales getting lost.  Driving from Bristol, U.K. to Wales? Lost as we took the wrong bridge, crossing the wrong river in the wrong direction.  Trying to find our bed and breakfast accommodation in Bristol? Lost.  Trying to find our bed and breakfast accommodation in Parc le Breos on the Gower Peninsula ? Lost.  We have become so proficient at getting lost that if someone tells us it will only take one hour to get from point A to point B we allow three hours.

But back to gettting lost on our way to Dale.  We tried several times to explain to the proprietress of Allenbrook, the B&B where we would be staying in Dale if we can ever find it, that being that we are not locals and have never been to Dale, we would not have a clue as to where the dinghy races start.  We simply could not get better directions so off we went.  It's okay.  We have become rather joyfully accustomed to getting lost during this trip.

Now before you suggest GPS, know that we literally do not roll that way.  We like maps.  Yes, the old-fashioned ones that are made of paper and one actually folds.  I know, you have heard of them or seen them in museum exhibits.  I drive.  Mom navigates.  Our system works.  Usually.  To a point.

We do manage to get to Dale.  We stop at a terrific place (which ultimately became our dinner go-to place, our place called The Mooring Inn) to ask directions.  Whilst asking for directions, we inquire about dinner too.  I have to admit I am a little surprised when I am told that I need to make reservations for dinner.  My inner voice is thinking, "Why?  This is a very small town on the edge of the earth in the back of beyond.  Reservations, really?"  My outer voice says, "Okay, let me make a reservation" even though we still have not found our B&B nor have we figured out where the "dinghy hut" is so we still do not know if we have "gone too far" and granted we are running out of road options being at the water's edge here...but at least we have reservations for dinner.

The owner, Mike, gives us directions to the B&B but because the one road in town is a one-way road and yes, of course, we have passed the dinghy hut, we have to circle around the town again and re-enter it.  We do just that.  After about a 5 minute drive, we end up right back at the restaurant ! We try again one more time but this time I think, "No, not back at the restaurant a third time!"  I park the car on the side of the road, leave the car running and decide to explore the area on foot.  That's how I meet Tilly who is tending to her garden.

"I'm sorry to bother you but would you happen to know where the Allenbrook B&B is," I ask.

She says, "Oh wait let me ask my husband. Come on inside."

Okay: note to self.  Things that would never happen in NYC.  I will help a stranger with directions but you, stranger, are not coming into my house.

"Phil, do you know where Allenbrook is?  Isn't it down the road from the dinghy hut - down the road - but you can't go right but of you go about 50 yards or maybe it's 100 yards - the road where the Smith's live - you know where the garage used to be...."

Phil has no clue.

Tilly looks at me, starts to explain but it must be the look on my face as she says, "Where is your car?"

I tell her I parked at the end of her driveway.

"You know what?, Tilly says, "Come on.  I'll drive with you and get you there and walk back."

I am delighted by the kindness of strangers.

"Mom, this is Tilly.  Tilly, this is my Mom, Estelle," I say as we pile into the car.

Down the road - turn right at what we now know is the "dinghy hut", we arrive at our B&B.  That was a whole lot of lost.

But we arrived.  Thank you, Tilly.

In the midst of all that, we also worked  up quite an appetite.  Thank goodness we made reservations for dinner.  The Mooring Inn is packed upon our arrival - definitely a testimony to its excellent food (truly) but as we now know it is one of only two restaurants in town (I told you Dale is a small town).

It has so far taken two airplanes, two rental car moments, lots of "lost" time to arrive oh-so-close to the puffins of Skomer Island.  We are close but not quite there yet.

They better be home :)























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